#when one of them almost got the other killed after kidnapping and torturing him for days 😭😭

[braceletofteeth]

let’s say vegas and moonjo are acquaintances in someway.

maybe vegas studied in korea for a while and noticed some people in his uni going missing, maybe moonjo was involved with the korean mafia and vegas had to secure a partnership, maybe moonjo and jongwoo relocated to thailand to start a new life.

either way, they meet, they hit off, they exchange dental torture tips. vegas looks at moonjo being an absolute simp for jongwoo and thinks ‘rip to him but i’m different.’

then pete happens.

I go a little insane every time I think about what you sent here, honestly. It opens room to so many questions... Where, when and how Vegas and Moonjo could have met; their impressions of each other and the influence their partners have over them; Pete and Jongwoo’s own impressions of Vegas’s and Moonjo’s relationship… I mean, can you imagine the four of them in the same room, having a friendly chat? It has the potential to be really entertaining, and also to go so, so wrong.

But let’s stay focused (I'm trying! I'm really trying!).

First of all, I think the idea of Vegas getting exposed to the Very Normal Relationship™ of Moonjo and Jongwoo and his inner response to it being “that could never be me” is SO funny. Especially if it's not because they're weird, but because they're cringe. Count me in on the maiming and the torture, the manipulation and the emotional instability, but finding religion in a lover? Yikes. That’s the real crazy.

Bonus points in that scenario if Vegas and Moonjo were acquaintances before Moonjo found Jongwoo. It would totally go against Vegas’s expectations. Which is to say, no fucking expectations, have you met that guy? Moonjo cares about no one. At least Vegas has Macau, and his father (that doesn’t care about him in return, but one day he will, of course). Moonjo is completely alone. By choice. He can’t stand anyone. Not even the woman who raised him. Even the people he entertains himself playing mind games with, are eventually disposed of and forgotten. Vegas might find himself in a position where the two of them are able to (almost) see eye to eye, and socialize, but he would know better than to let his guard down around him. That’s not a man you can trust your life with. Or your head. Definitely not your head.

Which probably makes Vegas wonder, as of meeting Jongwoo, just who would be stupid enough to trust their heart with him?

And here comes the shocker, for Vegas, and maybe for everyone who has ever crossed paths with those two: that’s not what happened. Jongwoo isn’t some naive darling that fell madly in love with Moonjo without knowing what he was in for; he’s not a pet Moonjo is keeping around until he finds a more amusing one (that would be Kihyuk). Jongwoo actually did something extraordinary, when he didn’t even have the intention to: he made Moonjo vulnerable. He’s the one that got Moonjo’s heart in his hands. And for Vegas, who met Moonjo pre-Jongwoo, that is… bizarre. Surreal. Unbelievable. It makes no sense, because Moonjo is supposed to be like Vegas, and people like them never show weakness in front of anyone, because they know, they learned, that when you do that, you get hurt. You lose. You die.

But Jongwoo changed something in him. Moonjo could die by his hands, and he’d still feel like he won. There’s no bad nor wrong between them, therefore, he’d take anything Jongwoo gave him. There is no one else besides him, and no one after. Jongwoo changed him.

And yet, he didn’t change. For the rest of the world, Moonjo is still the same. He still lies, he still kills, and he still regards everyone with the same indifference he always did—only he has Jongwoo by his side now, and to him it makes all the difference.

Vegas wouldn’t know what that feels like. He doesn’t even want to. Rip to Moonjo, but he’s different. He’d never let someone have so much power over him. Maybe Moonjo can afford that, because, after all, he has nothing but himself and his art, but Vegas is a businessman, who has a legacy to carry on. One day, he’s going to rule an empire, and it’s going to be all his. He doesn’t need, doesn’t want to be helped or understood by anybody that’s not family. He’s different from Moonjo, and he’s different from Kinn. They are fools. They’re going to be betrayed, or killed, or left. They are going to suffer, they are going to lose, and it’s going to be their own fault. Vegas is better than that. He does the betrayal, the killing, and the leaving, before it’s done to him.

And for some time, that's all he believes in.

… Then Pete happens. Vegas happens to Pete, Pete happens to Vegas, and Vegas finally gets it.

When he loses, but Pete stays by his side, that makes all the difference.

[gremlingottoosilly]

Slasher!König with a reader who is scared of pain so she cries, begs and does everything he wants to not be slapped, have broken bones or be starved or chained. Max "defiance" she does is begging him to prep her so it won't hurt or to not take him all the way to the base so she won't gag. Otherwise she cooks, kisses him and doesn't even run away when the doors are open. Too terrified.

Konig wasn't aware he picked up a whiny kitten during his last hunt, but he won't look a gifted horse in the teeth. Usually, he opts for someone with more fire, a bit of fight in them. However, after his last "wife" - a pretty Scottish guy who definitely served in the military and almost tore his throat open after Konig sliced his boyfriend to shreds - he understood the appeal of having a wifey so utterly terrified of you. It might not be for everyone, but it's definitely for him at the moment...besides, your crying is cute. Kinda. Makes his cock hard and ready for action, even though his abandoned and forgotten moral sense was trying to spring back to life again. You beg him to be gentle, and so he raids the next city over for lube. He usually doesn't care much for the comfort of his victims - if anything, it's a bit amusing, seeing them struggling to take his cock in - but he wants you to last. Konig is way too curious about hearing your moans and comparing them to the little whimpers of pain you exhale whenever he is, as much as tugs on your hair a bit. You're a soft, gentle creature, and he is all made of rough actions and awkward moves. Still a perfect fucking match. He was chaining you down the first few weeks until your muffled cries from the basement started bothering him a bit too much. You're better than the other pets and wives he was taking before - so you deserve the special privilege of only wearing a collar. Not even a branding mark - as soon as he got the hot iron brand out, you started sobbing and reaching to suck him off until he abandoned any idea of torture...honestly, he kinda liked it. Adored it. He knows he is being blatantly manipulated through his hug dumb cock, and he doesn't care - as long as you're being compliant and soft, it's all he needs. Waking up to a pretty lady cooking him breakfast isn't something he thought he'd ever have with one of his pretty kidnapped wives - but here he is, rolling from the bed and not even bothering with the mask. if he is lucky and you're in a particularly scared mood, he could snatch a peck on the cheek over a promise of not fucking your ass raw right on the kitchen counter. Might even get a cute little' kiss if you're desperate enough and want to convince him you don't deserve to die this day. You still don't understand that he forgot about the desire to kill you a while ago - and you still don't understand that no matter what you're doing, he won't hurt you beyond spanking you or tugging on your hair like an unruly puppy you are.

[limethefirst]

Savior

pairings: Logan Howlett x teen!reader (platonic)

warnings: torture, violence

summary: after a year of being experimented on you’re finally saved and taken to a safe place where it’ll never happen again

a/n: Logan x platonic readers always have me gnawing at the bars of my enclosure so…here’s more!!! Logan is so bbg.. also Void Runner pt3 is in the works🫡

Normality was something people were used to seeing, most people were what the rest of society would consider ‘normal’.

Those who were considered ‘abnormal’ were mutants; humans who underwent a strange mutation that gave them the X-gene. Many viewed them as dangerous, evil even, many kidnapped and would experiment on them.

Unfortunately for you, you were a mutant, and to make it worse, one who was being experimented on and exploited.

Thankfully there were a group of people who were supposed to help and save these mutants, these people were the X-men. Today was your lucky day, today was the day you’d be saved, if only you knew that.

“Transfer 26 back to their cell,” an unknown guard said to your handler. Your eyes were trained to the ground, you knew talking would only cause punishment.

You’d been here for almost a year, your powers had devolved recently and you were quickly taken away.

The power of protection, or so that’s what most of the lab workers said. You had to power to conjure force fields around you as well as others or other objects, but you weren’t able to hold it for long; another perk of the power was you could conjure half shields, something you’d be able to use if you ever needed to protect only the front part of your body.

The walk back to your cell was taking its toll on your body, the constant pain and pressure you were put through finally attacking at you. Your wrists and neck itchy from whatever metal was around it, suppressing your powers.

Finally you tilted your head up, noticing the lack of mutants in the cells as you walked, you believed you were the last one left, the others dying from neglect or refusal to cooperate.

Before being able to be put into your cell, a loud ringing began to blaring over the compound, red lights flashed and everything shut down.

That’s when you saw him, The Fucking Wolverine.

His claws looked as if they were glistening against the contrast of the red, you watched as he began to take down many of the guards, each one down by the second. Your handler grabbed his smaller pistol; hidden within his lab coat for moments like this, but instead of aiming it at the beast in front of him, he grabbed you by your shirt.

He held the gun against your temple, the cold metal making a shiver go down your spine.

“Let the kid go,” You could hear Wolverines voice, it was stern but you could tell he was pissed; his jaw was clenched and his fist got tighter, his claws covered in blood, as was the floor.

It was almost as if luck had decided to visit you for the first time in years, because suddenly, everything shut down, the power was gone. The item suppressing your powers had just fallen down. The metal clinking against the floor.

This was your chance.

Quickly you summoned a shield around yourself, hearing a gun go off by your ear; but instead of a thump of a body hitting the floor, all that was heard was the sound of a bullet hitting the ground.

This was when Wolverine took the chance the strike, killing the man in an instant.

The man turned back to you, his face held not much emotion, maybe a hint of pity.

You weren’t able to say much, before you knew it you had passed out, perhaps the exhaustion from earlier finally caught up to you.

You slowly began to wake up, the room was the bright, it looked like a doctor’s office. You looked down, your white prison like clothes not replaced with a gown.

A taller woman entered the room, she noticed your eyes had opened, she gave you a warm smile and introduced herself as Dr Jean Grey, quickly excusing herself to go get the rest of the faculty.

Each person had said their hellos and such, besides two, the man in the wheel chair and Wolverine. The man in front of you began to talk but his mouth wasn’t moving, it was strange but he let himself explain before carrying on.

“Hello there dear,” the voice echoed in your mind, “I am Charles Xavier, I’m currently speaking to you through your mind if you haven’t noticed,” he looked at you for acknowledgment before continuing, “I’ve been looking for you for quite some time now, you’re currently at my school for gifted children, a place for mutant kids to learn about their abilities away from those who fear them, I’m here to offer you a place to stay.”

Charles looked at you, a warm smile on his face. He hoped you take him up on his offer, “I’d like that a lot,” you replied in your mind, assuming he’d be able to hear you as well. This was confirmed when he nodded at you and slowly left the room, but not before saying something you couldn’t hear to whoever was left in the room.

You looked at the man who’d saved you, his arms were crossed and he stood tall before you, “Listen kid, since you’re staying I’ll be helping you out a bit around here to you get used to it,” he said looking at your bruised arms, “I’m sure Charles told you what this place is and what not,”

But before he could say anything else you cut him off, “You’re name,” was all you could mutter before he finished his sentence.

“What?” He asked, confused by what you meant.

“What’s you’re name”

“Logan, I’ll be your history teacher and combat instructor,”

You blinked, confused before understanding he was probably a teacher here.

“Y/N, I’m Y/N,” you looked at the man, seeing if he’d say anything else, “Where will I stay?” You asked him.

“We have dorms, I’ll show you to yours right now, it’ll give you time to change and explore the place,”

“Hm alright, thank you”

“Don’t mention it kid,”

Logan showed you your room, it was ten times bigger than cage they held you in. Their first thing you did when Logan finally left was shower, once you exited you saw some clothes on the bed, with a note from another teacher here who you knew as Ororo or Storm.

Quickly you changed into the clothes, wanting to see the place.

When you left the room you noticed the hallway with a bunch of other doors, many rooms were empty; there was still lots of room for new mutants to make this their home too.

Slowly you made your way to the main hall, there were many other kids your age, each one with a special ability of some sort, you saw one kid with ice, another going through walls.

You started to make your way outside next, seeing more kids playing. Suddenly you hear someone yell.

“Watch out!” You put out your hands, a shield forming around the front of your figure. The kids who threw what seemed to be a football all cheered, before asking you to throw it back to them, which you hesitantly did.

You turned back around ready to head inside when someone stopped you.

“Didn’t think I’d get to see you use your power again so soon kid,” Logan was now at your side, walking you to the door.

“Would you rather I get a football to the head?” You smiled at him, a playful tug at your lips.

“So what do you think of the place?” He asked you, slightly eyeing your figure, trying to see if you felt comfortable yet.

“It’s big,” he smirked at your words, big was an understatement in his opinion. Then a sigh left you, “I feels like too much for me to take in, I can’t believe this isn’t a dream,”

Logan stopped walking, this causing you to stop too and look at him; he put his hand on your shoulder and looking you into your eyes, “Trust me, it feels like that at first but I promise you’re safe here now, if ever need someone you can always come find one of us, got it bub?”

“I got it Logan,” You gave him a warm smile, and you felt yourself feel somewhat better. The two of you began to walk back inside, you felt safer knowing you had someone in your corner now.

“Do you guys have Oreos here?”

“I can get you some.”

[clockwayswrites]

Rumors of a Prince

“You could always ask Jason to pay her a visit,” Dick said from where he was lounging, mostly upside down, on the couch in Bruce’s study.

Bruce frowned at him. “I am not going to have Jason kill Vickie Vale.”

“Hey, you’re the one who said kill!” Dick held his hands up or, rather, given his position, down. “I just meant puts some fear into her. Maybe kidnap her for a few days so that she can’t write any more libel.”

Bruce found himself smiling, slightly and against his better judgment. It faded away when he looked back at his laptop. “At least in this case, it wouldn’t do much good. The stories is already out there and, unfortunately, Vale’s take on it has captured the public’s attention.”

“Tim knows I bet… and Babs.”

“Undoubtedly by now.”

“And if those two know, Steph knows. If Steph knows, she’s ranted to Cass.”

“Yes.” This family was impossible to keep things secret in.

“Welp,” Dick said and swung himself to be sitting up normally— or as normally as Dick ever sat. “Then I guess we better tell the others. How do you want to divide this?”

Bruce was grateful that Dick was willing to be his partner in this. “You would be best to take Jason. I’ll speak with Damian. Either of us can catch Duke when he returns from his patrol.”

Dick nodded. “And Tom?”

“I think perhaps it would be best to have as much of the family in the manor as possible,” Bruce said after a moment. “If he destabilizes, I want him to know that we are around and that he is still safe.”

“Alright.” Dick slapped his knees once and stood. “I’ll drag Jason back then. You know he’ll come if it’s for Tom.”

“Make sure he reads the article before he comes over.”

Dick grimaced. “Yeah. Yeah, that would be best. I’m going to bring some food too over with me. Good luck convincing Dami that he can’t go and stab Vickie Vale.”

Bruce pinched the bridge of his nose. “Right. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” Dick chirped as he left for his task.

Bruce dropped his hand.

‘Gotham’s Pale Prince’ stared back at him from the screen.

-

“Seriously?!” Jason burst in through the kitchen door. “Have you read this swill?”

“Yes chum, of course I have,” Bruce said. He shot Dick, who trailing behind Jason’s fury, a look. Dick was supposed to get Jason to read the article before coming over.

Dick just shrugged helplessly and motioned in a way that conveyed Jason had read it and was still clearly quite upset.

“One of the biggest questions is,” Jason said, clearly reading now from the article with the air of Bristol accent he had put on, “perhaps, why the newest Wayne is not in school. Bruce has proven himself to be a champion of the educational system. This is despite the man himself being a college drop out’ like what the fuck?”

“To be fair, I am,” Bruce said.

Jason rolled his eyes and continued. “His oldest ward’— Dick is fucking adopted now, bitch!”

“Boo!” Steph echoed and tossed popcorn at the tablet Jason was holding.

(Bruce was neither sure when Stephanie had arrived nor where she got the popcorn.)

“Never going to college,” Jason said with a jab of his free hand, “and the second oldest never completing high school.’ I was dead you narrow minded shew!”

“Well, I mean, all she knows is that you were supposedly kidnapped by terrorists and tortured for years,” Dick said. He had moved over to help himself to Stephanie’s popcorn and paused raising the next handful to his face. “Okay, no, that’s actually worse.”

“And you are clear on your line that I cannot stab this woman for the dishonor she implies about the family?” Damian asked, again, as he joined them in the kitchen.

“Unfortunately we have to handle this the proper way, with a press conference,” Bruce said. Stabbing was looking increasingly appealing though.

Jason dropped into one of the open chairs. “I’d call it a battle of the wits, but I don’t think Vale has any left with this trash she’s writing!”

“Alright,” Tim said as he entered the kitchen with almost as much fury as Jason, just more contained. Cass followed in his wake. “I am sure that B has already run through no killing, no stabbing, no maiming, no poisoning—”

“No poisoning Vickie Vale,” Bruce said, feeling so tired.

“Way to go, Timbit, now we can’t poison her,” Jason groused.

Tim sighed, “Fair, I shouldn’t have assumed. I really thought someone else would have brought it up already.”

“People went for more bloody options,” Dick explained.

“Also fair,” Tim said, pointing at him. “Anyways, since we can’t do all that, can I ruin her reputation?”

“Tim,” Bruce sighed.

“Now come on old man, let’s here Timtam out,” Jason said, holding out his arm. “You said yourself we had to handle the proper way and I’m sure that our little socialite here knows just how to ruin her through something like a press conference.”

“You I can stab,” Tim said with a shark sharp smile towards Jason.

Jason returned it with a smile like broken glass. “You can try.”

“Oh, if you keep calling me a socialite I will try and I will manage.”

“Boys, please.”

“Are people threatening blood and violence again?”

Every head in the room swiveled towards the door to the hall.

Tom almost recoiled at the sudden attention of all of the family, taking a half step back and looking a little wide eyed.

Cass walked forward and wrapped her arm around Tom’s. “Tim is. To Jason.”

It took a moment for Tom to tear his eyes away from the family to look at his sister. “Of course. What’s… it about this time?”

“Jason is reminding Tim that he’s a rich society brat and Tim hates to be reminded about that even though it’s true because Tim is also a little freak and the upper crust would be applaud if they knew even a fraction of it,” Steph said before she stuffed his mouth full of more popcorn.

Everyone in the room paused for a moment.

“No, yep, I think that’s pretty much spot on,” Dick said. He wasn’t even pretending not to laugh.

The laughter was infectious and almost everyone was either snickering or outright laughing. Bruce even quirked up a little smile. Tom still looked mostly confused but at least less nervous.

“Come sit by me, little shadow,” Dick said with a smile.

When Thomas settled next to Dick, who immediately wrapped an arm around him, the room settled again into that slightly somber mood.

“What is going on?” Tom asked, voice small. There were times when he still seemed unsure if he could be a presence in a room or consternation. It was something that they were still working on as a family.

Bruce sighed. “A reporter found out about you and wrote an article with mostly speculation. Unfortunately, because of who I am in the city and my existing tendency to adopt, it’s getting attention.”

Tom chewed on his lip and Bruce just hoped he wouldn’t worry it so much it bled. “Bad?”

“Not bad towards you, but unkind. She made a lot of guesses and fact reasons about why the public hasn’t seen you,” Bruce explained.

“Oh. Am I…?”

The dropping of words wasn’t the best sign. Dick pulled Tom into his lap.

“No. Most of the children didn’t attend the press conference announcing them and you don’t have to either. But I will need to make one simply to clear up some of rumors. I wont say anything that you don’t want me to say.”

“Bruce and I can plan it out,” Tim said, “and then run it by you if you want to look over it.”

“Can… will… if anyone wants to help…”

“Of course!” Dick said cheerfully. “We can make a lunch of it or something. It will be the best press conference yet.”

“Yeah. And you don’t even have to watch it,” Jason said. “We’ll plan something fun for that day. The old man can go and do the hard work and we’ll enjoy ourselves.”

“Thank you, Jason,” Bruce said dryly, pretending he wasn’t warmed still whenever Jason refereed to him as anything approaching father.

“It’s what you deserve,” Jason said and tossed his tablet, cleared of the article, on the table. “Come on, let’s plan what we’re going to do.”

“The zoo is always enjoyable,” Damian said.

“You always say zoo,” Cass pointed out as she perched next to Jason.

“What about the park?” Steph suggested. She joined the others at the table and passed around her popcorn.

“Nah, Ivy has a new variety of tulips. I’m worried some of them might turn man eating again,” Dick said.

“We could head out of Gotham I guess,” Jason pointed out and pulled up the map.

Bruce slipped quietly out of the room with Tim on his heels.

“You can stay with them and help them plan,” Bruce offered. Tim was always too grownup, had been since before he came to Bruce.

Tim just shook his head. “I’m never the best distraction. I’ll be more use to you. Besides, I have some plans to run by you that doesn’t need the blood thirsty contingency hearing about.”

“Of course you do,” Bruce said with both a sigh and a smile.

“Nothing physical,” Tim defended himself. “I can ruin her legally.”

“That I have no doubt of.”

No matter what, Bruce had absolutely no doubt that the family would be there for Tom. They were a family, after all.

---

AN: Vickie Vale won't know what hit her. Esp after what she wrote.

Don't know if this will become a full sequel or not, but it was fun to revisit this universe and see how they've progressed!

[couldeatthatgirlforlunch]

YAY I can bother you again! \:D/ /jk

Anyways I consider asking my favorite writers stuff as my therapy, so here I go. (Sorry if this is sudden or traumatizing)

--------------

I feel so bad for saying this but I'm most attracted to any batfam member (adult obvi) when they are at their worst, Bruce and his pathetic angsty ass literally all the time? Let's make a Robin.

Angry Dick with a cheerful facade trying to just be Bruce's equal? Bra is unclipped.

Post pit Jason so angry and mercilless feeling betrayed (any iteration but mostly Arkahm knight) and vengful? Baby I'm yours.

Fanon Tim who is sleep deprived and stalkerish? I'll strip in front of any security camara in Gotham.

Stephanie feeling she needs to prove herself? Please let me top you.

Insecure about his powers Duke? Sudenly I'm a physical meta expert, please show me those abs.

Cassandra thinking she is only capable of damaging? Honey put your hands on me, I assure you it will be anything but unpleasant.

Damian after "accidentally" killing Dick? Hello my name is beloved!

Don't feel bad about it!! I'm just the same and there's nothing wrong with us!!!!!!!!!!

I mean, pathetic wet cats who would just curl in my lap and rant or cry while I indulge them and they become dependent on me and only me??

Battinson is my favorite Batman from the movies bc hello???? I mean I get it why people liked Bale but like???? A guy who's been traumatized for 20 years and got to the point of making an armour to fight against criminals unrelated to the ones that took his parents bc he got so sad that he reflected enough that he came to the conclusion that no one should ever feel like he did, and he would use his entire life to stop crime because people deserved better, even the worst criminals shouldn't die bc they can change or other people might be miserable if they miss him?? And he's ready to die for that!! He doesn't care!! And then he becomes a parent but he sucks at parenting bc he loves them but he never learned how to love?? BABY I CAN TEACH YOU

Jason at under the red hood or as Arkham Knight??? YOU CAN KEEP KILLING PEOPLE IF THAT'LL MAKE YOU FEEL BETTER BABE, especially if you keep me around bc we dated before you died/got tortured for months/years, kidnap me, love me, make me yours, I don't think killing your pops is gonna help you feel better, but no nagging will come from me I SWEAR

Fanom Tim being so neglected by his parents that he doesn't think his physical and psychological suffering is important, the fact that he obsessed over his childhood heroes, putting himself in danger, practically deciding that he was going to help them, not bc "I wanna be a hero and I can so I should be" but bc "I don't have much to lose, we all need you, and I want to help you, bc you're all I have!!!" and caring so much that he tries to clone his bff when he dies, and almost dies just to bring his dad and hero back, bc he cares about others more than he cares about himself??? Baby I'm right here!!!!

ANY Damian angst, Damian sad over Dick, over Bruce, over Talia, all while pretending he's just angry, I love him!! Damian that just wants to make them proud!! Damian that wants to be good!! To be on their level!! To be powerful!! To be good enough!! I love love love him!!! I'm with you no matter if you're a hero, a villain, or an antihero!! Damian Wayne, you will always be famous.

Dick swallowing his traumas, his emotions, breaking down at any opportunity, feeling responsible for everyone and destroying himself bc of it!! His relationship with Bruce never being quite the same after he became Nightwing, but they still know, deep inside, that they would come running if the other asked for help, but they never do. And Dick sometimes doesn't even know if Bruce sees him as his son!! And he's sad bc of it, but he can't show it bc how do you tell someone that?!?!?!

Steph thinking she's never gonna be enough, that she needs to prove herself, when this feeling never goes away, bc it's more about you than others? YES YES YES

Cassie!! Don't feel guilty about your past babygirl!!! It wasn't your fault!! You're just a victim!! They even took your voice from you!! Come spoon me and you'll feel better!!!

You're perfect Duke!! You're amazing and cool and handsome and there's nothing wrong with you!! You have the most awsesome powers ever!! Now come here let me look into those brown eyes and lets make out.

Seeing characters that are just so unreal but we can relato to, watch them suffer, feel joy in it!! I'm just like you and you're just like me! Be mine!!

This is about DC, but I'm an invincible, the boys and Marvel fan too. I'm drooling seeing Invincible and Rex Splode at their most toxic or weak moments! I love seeing homelander, soldier boy and the deep being so pathetic that they HAVE TO make it everyone's problem!! On my Winter Soldier brain rot I was constantly going over and over again on the same scenes watching this man be sad and miserable and covered in blood and not having autonomy of his own body and being alone!! Of course I got sad, but we can be sad together!!

Anyway, I love receiving fun and easy asks like that (I'm unreasonably happy that you called me one of your favs), I closed the asks bc I was just feeling I little overwhelmed with anxiety, college, future and the amount of requests I was receiving even if I knew I didn't have to write every fanfic idea people sent me and can just write what inspires me in the moment, be it something people asked, or some inspiration that came for me from another place

[francis-writes]

FEYD-RAUTHA HARKONNEN NSFW ALPHABET

A/N: btw in these headcanons as well as my other posts about Dune i kinda mix movie and book versions of character

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

Feyd-Rautha isn't the most affectionate person, even if you're together. He just falls asleep, hugged into you. He may help you clean yourself and take care of the wounds if it was particularly rough session.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

It would be a hard decision but if he had to choose, Feyd would say that he most likes his hands. The way they use a knife, how they engulf your neck... he loves how many lives he took with his hand and you still kiss them and want them on your body.

When it comes to you, Feyd would probably choose all these spots that he uses to make you shiver and writhe. He knows you body well and remember where he needs to focus when he wants to give you pain or pleasure.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

In you, almost always. He sees it as a kind of marking his territory (there was that one fanfic where Harkonnens had black cum so basically everyone could notice stains and knew that they fucked and I absolutely love this headcanon), moreover he needs to secure his line and get an heir.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

It takes a bit of time together for Feyd to accept this (and even longer to admit it) but he enjoys being soft with you. He still loves violence and rough sex but he also likes cuddling with you and being petted.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

I suppose we all know the answer. Sex and violence are two things he mastered.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

He can't choose just one. Missionary is good for keeping eye contact and observing your reactions. Anything where he takes you from behind, gives him feeling of control and domination. Also there are a lots of moment when you're restrained in all possible positions.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

Feyd isn't a very humorous person in general and sex is no exception. Smile is the best you can get from him.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

I'll go here with his 2023 movie look and say that he's as bald and smooth down there, as everywhere else.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

Well, he's not the most romantic person. Even if he loves you, he doesn't know how to show it except for being more delicate and caring with you.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

He rather doesn't do it. When he's horny, he can just find you or one of his concubines.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

You can pry that headcanon from my cold dead hands but I think that he has a mommy kink. He didn't got much affection in his life, growing up in Harkonnen's family and in movie version he killed his mother sooo lots of issues here (in comics he was just kidnapped from parents as a small kid so not much better). Anyway, he wouldn't admit it but he loves when you hug him and stroke his head as he rests on your chest or belly. Praise him, tell him that you love him, you're proud of him and he will melt in your arms.

Also, of course, all kinds of BDSM. Feyd prefers to cause pain but he's sadomasochistic and lets you torture him as well. I won't list specific things he likes because it would be easier to list things he doesn't like.

And semi-public sex? He wants people to hear how he fucks you and to know that you're his and his only.

Perhaps breeding kink (but in Dune almost everybody has breeding kink; bene gesserit is as if somebody had breeding kink and decided to make this everyone's problem). As I mentioned, he sees this kinda as marking his territory and bounding you to him? And of course, he needs an heir (not that he actually likes children).

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

His bedroom is the best. There's a big bed and all of his toys and tools... but Feyd isn't picky. If mood strikes him, he may fuck you on any surface.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

Almost everything lol

But just to give a random example, he's always horny after fight, especially if he kills someone (same if you love violence as well and kill somebody).

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

Hmm he's rather possesive so it may be hard to convince him to a threesome. But at the other hand, he's a hedonist so maybe he would like it.

It's hard to say what he wouldn't do because as I say later, this man is down to try almost everything.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

It's not his favourite sexual thing to do, but he never refuses a blowjob. He prefers receiving, giving you oral is a rare occasion. He can do this, just usually his pleasure has priority.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

Usually fast and rough, Feyd only goes slow when he wants to tease you or to torture you.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

Feyd prefers longer sessions when he can focus on the act and perhaps torture you a little but quickies are not far away in the ranking. As I mentioned, he has a very high libido, so it often happens during the day that he's busy and don't have much time so he just pulls you to the nearest room. And if some servant walks in (very unlikely, considering all the noises alarming people what's happening behind the doors)? Then that's their problem. Feyd doesn't stop thrusting into you, as they leave the room in hurry.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

Feyd is that type of man who will try anything in his life at least once, so take care of yourself.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

In general, he has amazing stamina (years of training paid off) but it depends on situation, like, whether you have a standard fast fucking just to satisfy your lust, or you have a whole session with long foreplay. Amount of rounds varies but he can go for a few hours.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

Feyd has a whole collection, whatever he could get. Dildos, clamps, spreader bars, ropes, whips, knives, needles, wax candles, dick rings, chastity belts, butt plugs and a few things that look like torture devices. Anyway, both of you use it rather frequently.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

He loves to tease you. With his voice, his words, even his gestures seem sexual. He also likes to touch (or rather grope) you through the day. Fortunately, he has a high libido so it won't take long before he pulls you to the nearest free room.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

He isn't very loud, if he moans or gasps, he does it rather quietly. But he likes every once in awhile talk to you and tease you. Maybe it's nothing special but even "How does it feel, my pet? Don't be shy, look me in the eyes" said in his low voice can make you shiver.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

He is actually a switch. Top leaning but occasionally enjoys when you take control. And, no matter who's in charge, he's still a sadomasochist so even when he's dominating, he wants you to give him pain.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

Perfectly average but he knows how to use it.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

Probably you all expected this, but yeah. Very high. There's no day without sex and not just one round.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

Rather quickly. He has a good stamina but sex takes a lot of his energy, especially considering how long you do it and how much he engages in it.

[goatcheesecak3]

I hate you too Pt.1

Adam Faulkner-Stanheight x afab!reader

Minors dni

Warnings: nsfw, alcohol use

Fic type: enemies to lovers, smut, a dash of fluff at the very end, also Scott Tibbs cameo teehee

Summary: you and Adam have been rivals for years, but after begrudgingly letting him crash at your apartment, things take an unexpected turn.

A/n: this is my first time writing a smut in YEARS so I'm a little rusty. This is just a short one, but I how you enjoy it! I've maybe got an idea for a part two of this, so let me know if you want it!

"Are you fucking kidding me? You didn't tell me he was gonna be here" you huffed to your friend, Mark.

"Was I meant to?" He asked, looking at you as if you were insane.

"Yes! I wouldn't have come if I knew he was gonna be here"

You were at some sleazy dive bar, you and a group of friends had decided you all needed to get outside and have some fun- well, you, your friends and him.

"Him" was Adam, a twenty seven year old photographer with a mean attitude. He was as much of a part of the group as you were, his friends were your friends and they all got along. However, for some reason the pair of you never clicked. You thought he was hot-headed and rude, while he thought you were vapid and snarky.

"Come on, just play nice for tonight, alright?" Mark pleaded with you, "he's been having a rough time lately. You know it's coming up on one year now..."

Almost a year ago, Adam had had a pretty terrible ordeal. He'd been kidnapped by a serial killer and chained up somewhere. He was missing for about a week before he was found, shackled, bloody and nearly dead. You hated his guts, but even you found yourself worrying for him. You recalled back to when you and your friends had visited him in the hospital...

...

"I didn't know any of you guys could bake, who made these? They're better than an orgasm" Adam groaned, munching away on a third cookie.

"That was your best friend" Mark had teased, while your other friend, Scott let out a snigger.

"You made me cookies?" Adam raised an eyebrow at you "have you tampered with these in any way?"

"No, I haven't tampered with them you dumbass. Besides, you're literally going in for your fourth one right now, would it really matter if I had at this point?" You rolled your eyes.

Mark and Scott giggled to themselves, they loved watching the two of you argue.

"So if you're not trying to poison me, then why did you...?"

"Look, this doesn't mean we're friends or anything, okay. I just... I guess getting kidnapped probably sucked" you looked away, not wanting to continue taking and accidentally say something too nice.

...

Adam came over to the booth where you, Scott and Mark had been sat, sipping on beers.

"I think that's my cue to go for a cigarette" you said, rising from your seat.

"You gotta cut down on those man, they'll kill you someday" Scott tutted, half joking.

"Don't threaten me with a good time" you called as you dissappeared into the outdoor smoking area.

It was peaceful out there, no one else but you. You huddled yourself under a grimy looking awning and struggled to light your cigarette with your shitty, dying lighter.

"You shouldn't joke about that shit" an all too familiar voice broke the silence.

You spun around, slightly startled, to see Adam stood there.

"Don't follow me, you creep" you scoffed, unable to hide the disgust in your face, even if you wanted to.

"I'm serious, don't joke about wanting to die in public. You don't know who's listening"

He was referring to jigsaw, of course. His whole "cherish your life" thing made jokes like that grounds for kidnap and torture. Adam had a good point.

"Just looking out for you" he said, his unwelcoming expression unchanging.

You glared at him, your frustration building as you struggled to light your cigarette.

"Just use this" he tossed his own lighter to you.

"Thanks".

When you had finished lighting yours, Adam lit up one for himself. The two of you smoked in silence, avoiding eye contact and shuffling your feet awkwardly.

...

Your walk home was a strange one, to say the least. Your mind felt cloudy, so you decided to take the long way home. You'd drank just enough alcohol to reach a weird stare of clarity, where your mind was alert enough for you to think coherently, but uninhibited so that you could think about things your sober mind had tried to avoid. Your dream of consciousness ran wild, leading you to all sorts of conclusions.

"Why am I still single? The guys in this city are ugly, that's why. No, that's mean. They're not ugly, just boring yuppie types. I'm friends with the three good looking guys in the city but you couldn't pay me to date them. Oh, admitting that Adam is your friend? Admitting that he's good looking are we now? Okay well maybe he's not my friend, but it's been well established that he's a good looking guy. Hate to admit it, but if his mouth never opened I'd probably find him hot.

Your train of thought took all sorts of twists and turns, but it kept seeming to take you back to thoughts of Adam. You put it down to being drunk and stupid, reminding yourself that you despised Adam, you couldn't stand to see his face, you couldn't stand his whiney, high pitched voice. Ugh. It was so irritating you could practically hear it- no, you could hear it, like really, actually hear it.

"What the fuck? Why didn't my landlord tell me he was doing this tonight?"

Adam was pacing back and forth on the sidewalk, next to his apartment building, which had been draped in a yellow and black striped tent. As he paced, he whacked his mobile phone with his hand a few times, muttering things like "shit" and "Come on, stupid thing".

It didn't take a rocket scientist to figure out what had happened here. Adam's apartment building had been fumigated, and with no working phone, he was pretty much stranded for the night. You couldn't help but laugh.

Adam's eyes shot towards you, his expression a mixture of hatred and relief. You were the last person he wanted to see him struggle, but at least he knew you'd begrudgingly help him out.

"Jesus y/n, you scared the shit outta me. Did you follow me or something?"

You shook your head.

"I was out for a walk, this little shitshow" you pointed toward him "was just a happy coincidence."

Adam bit the insides of his cheeks. He wanted to be rude to you, he wanted so bad to wipe that smug grin off your face, but he knew he couldn't, not while he needed something from you.

"Can I borrow your phone? I need to call scott" his voice had no inflection whatsoever.

"Negative. Out of juice"

"Ah jesus, fuck.." Adam held his head and began to pace. He looked less annoyed and more concerned now.

"Fuck!" He yelled through gritted teeth, throwing his nokia onto the floor. In an anticlimactic bounce, it landed by your feet.

"Jeez, if it's that serious you can just charge this thing at my place" you sighed, picking up his phone and noting that you had the same one.

Adam looked at you as though you were lying to him.

"Come ON, before I change my mind" you ordered, finally feeling the cold of the night, and wanting to be inside quickly.

Adam followed, and the two of you walked in silence.

...

There was something palpable in the air of your tiny apartment that night, like a storm brewing. It intensified by the second, and when Adam threw himself onto your sofa as if he owned the place it only became stronger. You marched to your bedroom to grab your charger, quietly seething. Everything he did pissed you off. The way he so arrogantly shoved your decorative cushions aside so he could sit, the way he looked at your posters, your furniture. Judging, silently judging. You tossed him the charger, and sat in an armchair. The sofa had plenty of room for you to sit too, but the thought of being in such close proximity to him filled you with a white hot burning rage.

Some time passed, neither of you had spoken, instead opting to chainsmoke. Part of you was hoping the thick cloud of smoke would obscure your view of him. The silence sat heavily above you, until Adam's voice broke through it.

"Scott's not picking up."

"Have you tried Mar-"

"Obviously I've tried Mark"

Both your sentences were short, snappy. Being alone together was uncomfortable and awkward as all hell, if just one of you could swallow your pride and break the ice it would have been bearable at least, but you were both stubborn as mules.

Adam let out a sigh.

"Look, this isn't ideal for either of us but.." You took a deep breath, "you can stay here if you're really outta options"

Adam responded to this, in what you assumed was his language for gratitude. He liberated a small bottle of whiskey from the inside pocket of hig ratty jacket and plopped it down on the coffee table.

"If this is as much of a nightmare for you as it is for me, then I think we could both use some of this" he said.

"Hey look, finally something we can agree on" you almost laughed, standing up to head to the kitchen and grab two tumblers.

The two of you drank generous amounts, you had put a record on quietly just to add some sort of ambience, because the silence had begun to feel quite oppressive.

"You know, there's probably more than just that" Adam finally said, startling you a little.

"Huh?"

"I mean, there's probably more we agree on than just the fact that tonight is a nightmare"

"Dude, that conversation was like 20 minutes ago, are you slow or something?" You scoffed.

Adam rolled his eyes

"I mean, shit y/n, I love this album. All your posters, the stacks of dvds, we pretty much have the same apartment. Maybe yours is a bit more flouncy than mine.."

"And also yours is filled with bugs judging by that fumigation tent" you quipped, unable to resist the urge to get a jab in.

Adam paused, and gave you a look. It wasn't one you knew how to describe.

"What I'm saying is, we've got a lot in common. I seriously don't get why you have such a problem with me"

You were absolutely dumbfounded. That jerk! He was acting like you were the one with a problem? You sat there with your mouth agape for a second or two, before snapping at him.

"You're the one that started this feud! Always giving me dirty looks, poking fun at the way I dress, which by the way, is ridiculous because we dress exactly the same!" You blurted out, almost raising your voice.

Unexpectedly Adam began to laugh. He threw his head back and cackled like a hyena.

"Have you lost your damn mind?" You asked, a slight tone of seriousness to your voice.

"No, no, no... I- I get out now" Adam struggled to get out between laughs, "I get why we hate eachother so much"

Your curiosity got the better of you

"Why...?"

"Okay so, there's always been something between us, we thought it was animosity, right?" His face became plastered with a devilish grin

"It's not that, it's not that at all. It's sexual tension"

"That's disgusting! You're sick in the head!" You cried out, insulted at the very notion.

"Come on, y/n, we both know it. You wanna hit this sooooo bad" he smirked, his smug, awful grin sending waves of anger throughout your body.

"That's the most ridiculous thing I've ever heard" you retorted, doing your best to ignore what felt like excitement bubbling in your chest... and other parts of your body.

"Aw, are you too much of a good girl to admit it?" He teased.

You tried to fight it, but it was absolutely no use. Those two words just did something to you. Your body, not wanting to comply with your better judgement, gave away your feelings. You blushed, and Adam saw it.

He let out a low chuckle. He was infuriating, you felt this innate, primal urge deep inside you, like you wanted to pounce on him. But to do what? Punch him? Kiss him? You'd find out in the moment.

"Get up" you ordered, rising to your feet

"Woah, are you gonna try and fight me out something?" Adam laughed, only half concerned.

"I don't know yet" you said flatly, eyes trained on Adam as he stood to face you.

Before you could make a decision, your body reacted for you. Your arms threw themselves around his shoulders, one hand running itself through his surprisingly soft hair, the other resting on the back of his neck, pulling him toward you.

Your lips immediately met his, as you kissed him hungrily. With even more fervor, Adam kissed back, his tongue slipping into your mouth. One of his hands found itself on your waist, the other was groping your ass.

Your mind was racing a hundred miles a minute, this was the stupidest thing you'd ever done, but you'd never felt more alive. It was dangerous, a little wrong even, but so right at the same time.

You pulled away for a second, only to breathlessly utter the word "bedroom".

Adam nodded, before resuming kissing you. Your bodies remained firmly pressed together as you stumbled down the hall and into your bedroom. The two of you removed your jackets and tshirts, tossing them god knows where. You honestly couldn't pinpoint the exact moment when your bodies became horizontal, it was such a blur, but somehow you ended up laying on the bed, Adam on top of you.

He had begun to kiss all over your neck, the sensation of his hot breath making your stomach flip. You let out a few moans as his hands explored your torso, feeling every inch of you. You couldn't see his face, but you knew he had that same shit eating grin as always.

You could feel how hard Adam was through his jeans, he grinded against you and you felt your hips involuntarily buck forwards, wanting more friction. Adam noticed this straight away.

"Someone's impatient" he chuckled, his voice smug as ever

"Shut up" you just about managed to get out between gasps.

"Let's pay a little more attention to your top half first, you can be a good girl and wait a little longer" he whispered as his hands found the clasp of your bra and made hasty work of it.

There was that nickname again, the one that made wetness pool in your panties, the one that made your nails dig into Adam's back as you pulled him closer.

Adam's soft lips gently brushed over your nipples, his tongue dancing across your flesh. He was surprisingly gentle, his delicate touches were just light enough to drive you wild, you desperately needed more.

"Adam..." You whined, hoping he would stop teasing you.

"God, y/n, you're such a greedy little thing, aren't you?" He grinned, "so desperate to be fucked"

He loved seeing you like this, having you right in the palm of his hand. Well aware that Adam was enjoying watching you squirm, a myriad of insults flew through your mind, and you would have called him every single one of them if you didn't want him inside you so badly.

Thankfully, Adam stopped waiting around, and removed your jeans and underwear all in one swift motion. He'd never admit it, but he was getting rather impatient too. His hands on your legs, holding them apart, he stopped for a second to admire your pussy. You were visibly dripping, and knowing that it was he who had done that to you gave Adam a real ego boost. That arrogant son of a bitch.

"So wet for me, y/n" he murmured, eyes glued to your womanhood, as his hands rubbed along the insides of your thighs, getting juuuust close enough to your pussy to make you hyper aware that nothing was touching it- and you needed that touch urgently.

"Stop talking and just fuck me, Stanheight!" You yelled, hoping your voice would sound demanding and assertive, but instead sounding desperate and weak.

"Hmmm" he hummed, as though he were deeply considering what you had just said.

Suddenly you finally felt some sort of touch between your thighs. Two of Adam's fingers ran along your slit, smearing your juices across your entrance, and up to your clit.

The gasp you let out as you threw your head back was partly in pleasure, partly in relief. When his fingers rubbed gently across your clit, your hips rolled, trying to press against his fingers for more friction, but as soon as his fingers were there, they were gone again.

Looking up to see why Adam had stopped, the sight that met you was both unexpected, and an absolute delight. It was Adam, his eyes shut and his beautiful, sharp features accentuated by the low light of your lamp. He was licking your fluids off his fingers.

You felt a brand new wetness begin to spill out of you at this, as you uttered a breathy "fuck, that's hot".

He winked cockily, as he admired the state you were in. Fully Nude, and spread open to show him how wet you were. Hard little nipples and a dazed, blushing face. He found your soft lips and open mouth particularly attractive. He would have loved to shove his cock deep in there until the Mascara ran from your eyes, he thought you'd look quite pretty all tear stained and used. But that was something he would wait for next time, it was too intense for a first time together, and quite frankly, at this point he was getting just as desperate to fuck as you were.

"You got any condoms?" He asked, standing up to unzip his jeans and yank them down with his boxers

"Top drawer" you pointed to your dresser, and sat up on your elbows to get a good look at Adam's naked body. His torso was pale and slim, at the bottom of his tummy a small trail of hairs was dusted across his flesh, leading down to some recently trimmed black hairs. His dick was a wonderful sight, a decent length and a girth that looked like it would stretch you delightfully. He had a pretty pink tip, which was glistening with precum. You made a mental note that at some point you would love to give him a real slow, sloppy blow job.

Adam positioned himself over you, and lined his cock up to your entrance, rubbing his tip up and down your folds.

"I'll be gentle to start off" he whispered, almost tenderly, as he planted a soft kiss at your jawline.

You nodded, signaling that you were ready for him to enter you.

He started off with just that pretty pink tip of his, carefully pushing it into your hole. He let out a low hum, while a gasp escaped your lips.

"More" you whined

"God, you're hot" Adam remarked, a low chuckle escaping his lips.

He eased himself in further, his girth slowly stretching you.

"Shit you're so tight" he muttered, more to himself than to you. "It doesn't hurt, does it?" Adam looked at you, there was a glint of something a little too intimate for hate-fucking in his eyes.

"No, it feels good" you nodded, feeling yourself adjust to his size.

Adam gently pushed the rest of himself inside you, until he was all the way in. After waiting for a few seconds, he began to thrust. He maintained a steady, fast pace. His face buried in your neck breathing you in, your bodies pressed tightly together.

"Oh god Adam" you cried out, loving every second of it. All that rage from earlier had transformed into an insatiable need to feel him all over you. Your hands roamed up and down his back, running through his hair and gripping onto his body, holding him close as your legs wrapped around him, letting him in deeper.

Adam lifted his head from the crook of your neck and abruptly stopped thrusting. He was looking down at you now, that cocky grin plastered over his face.

"Thought you were meant to hate me, hm?" He said.

"Who said I didn't" you uttered, breathlessly.

"Well if that's the case, then maybe I should stop"

Oh he was good.

"Don't you even think about it" you said urgently.

Adam's face could only be described as mischievous, as he pulled himself up and slowly began pulling his dick out of you. You let out a small whimper at the loss of the feeling of him filling you up.

"I wanna know how badly you want it" he smirked, absent mindedly rubbing his hand along your thigh.

He knew just how to drive you wild, his soft touches and playful teasing made your core feel like it was on fire.

"C'mon Adam, quit fucking around" you whined.

He shook his head

"Beg."

That bastard.

Never in your life would you ever have imagined needing something from Adam Stanheight so badly that you would be willing to beg for it, let alone this, but now it was actually happening, you were seriously considering it.

He rubbed his tip up and down your folds, teasing your entrance and making it nearly impossible to resist. You couldn't fight it, you needed him. You had to swallow your pride and do what he wanted.

With redness painting your cheeks, and all your pride out of the window, you uttered a small "please"

"Please what?" Adam smiled slyly.

"Please fuck me" You said, a little louder now.

"Throw my name in there and I'll consider it"

This was humiliating, this went against everything you stood for, there was no wa-

"Please Adam, please please fuck me"

"Well since you asked so nicely"

There was no build up before Adam plunged himself deep into you, and this time he went harder than before. The obscene sounds of slapping skin and moans filled the air. He held your legs open as he took in what he considered to be the most wonderful sight; your tits bouncing with each thrust, your hands clutching into the bedsheets, your mouth wide open to let out moans of his name. God how he loved the way you said his name.

"Fuck, y/n, why'd we wait so long to do this, huh?" He panted through thrusts

You wanted to respond with something sarcastic, but with Adam repeatedly hitting your sweet spot, there was no way you could form a sentence, or ever remember what words were for that matter. As you started to see stars, finally two words managed to make their way to the forefront of your mind, and you screamed them.

"I'm cumming, I'm cumming!"

"Shit... fuck, me too" Adam groaned, burying his cock deep inside you, before grinding his hips and releasing.

...

When Adam returned from cleaning himself up in the bathroom, he wore nothing but his boxers.

"I uhh.. I got you a glass of water" he said awkwardly, placing the drink on the bedside table.

"Thanks" you said shyly.

You weren't exactly sure what the protocol was for the aftermath of sleeping with your arch nemesis, were you supposed to go back to fighting? Were you meant to cuddle? You figured a good place to start was a cigarette. You fished around in your nightstand and pulled out a packet of smokes and a lighter. The ashtray was already resting on top.

"Want one?" You offered casually.

"You keep cigarettes in your bedside table?" Adam asked, raising an eyebrow. He took one from you and sat next to you on the bed.

"You're just jealous you didn't think of it first" you teased, affectionately this time.

Adam took a long drag before he spoke.

"So..."

"So..."

"You wanna cuddle or...?" He avoided eye contact, feeling foolish for even asking.

"Or what? Or do I still hate you?" You smiled

"Yeah, or do you still hate me?" He laughed.

You snuggled up to him and planted a small kiss on his cheek.

"I think you're the worst" you joked, resting your head on his shoulder and draping your arm across his chest.

"Hate you too, babe" he chuckled, kissing the top of your head.

[glade-constellation]

Okay, finally about to get all my thoughts down after yesterday’s episode. I’m going to start with Moon since he’s being the one most talked about.

This is going to be a long post, so I’ll put a cut here <3

Moon

A lot of people are hating on how Moon reacted to Sun’s current trauma. I agree that he is not handling the situation well. As much as I understand where he’s coming from, running from Sun is not going to help at all. Sun desperately needs his family with him right now. No one else may have considered Nexus daily anymore, but it was still clear that Sun cared. He basically had to kill his own brother. Not only that, he was made to feel as if he chose to kill his own brother. (There was no choice in the matter, it was physiological torture set up specifically to make Sun feel guilty for his actions. Sun may have threw the “fireball” but Dark was the one who forced him to.)

Anyways, back to Moon. I think what a lot of people are forgetting is that Moon also just lived through a trauma. He was kidnapped and tortured, almost killed before Ruin saved him. The only reason Ruin saved him, as Ruin explained himself, was because Ruin hated Dark and Nexus. It was not because he wanted to save Moon, it was because he wanted to thwart Dark and Nexus’ plans. When he’s finally on his way to getting out, he finds two of his brothers being tortured, and almost watched one of them die before he got there. (I think that’s why he started screaming when he did. He was buying time for Solar by directing Nexus’ attention at him.) He then watched Nexus die. He was not close to Nexus in any way, but watching anyone die in front of you is not great for your mental health.

After all this, Moon is then told he has to not only process his own trauma, but take on Sun’s trauma as well. Moon does want to help, but he is too overly burdened by his own problems and knows he wouldn’t be of any help. To make up of his guilt, he is coving up his own trauma response by saying he’s doing it for Sun. He very likely knows this isn’t going to help Sun emotionally, but he feels he can stop any farther trauma to Sun by stopping whatever’s causing it. It’s both genuinely feeling this is the only way he can help Sun, and feeling guilt over not being able to help him in the way that is currently needed.

Is that the best response? No. But is it a very Moon response? Yes. This is actually exactly how he used to fix problems. Moon should not have abused Sun in the way he did, and he still needs to apologize for that, but Moon genuinely thought in some of these instances that he was helping Sun. He is not an emotionally available person, so he cannot handle his own emotions on top of others. So he does the next best thing he can think of and tries to stop what’s causing the trauma. Moon has just as much trauma as Sun does, people just don’t tend to feel that way because he took out his emotions on Sun to process them. At least this time he’s not taking it out on Sun. At least he is trying to actually stop the problem.

All in all, Moon isn’t as in the wrong as everyone keeps saying. Yes, he definitely should go talk to Sun. Hell, even just sitting in the same room as Solar does all the talking would be a big help. Just showing that he is there for Sun. But then Moon would feel more guilty, because he wouldn’t see how he’s helping and would still want to go after Dark and Ruin. He may seem apathetic, but he genuinely is trying to fix the situation.

(Edit : I also think people are forgetting that Moon had absolutely no insight as to what the real situation was. Sun did not tell them he was forced to make a choice, he simply saw Nexus explode. He probably thinks Sun intentionally killed Nexus. He does not realize the true gravity of the situation like we do.)

Sun

Obviously, Sun is the most emotionally distressed over the situation. The entire time he was talking with Nexus, a few episodes before his death, Sun tried to say he didn’t care about Nexus. Nexus saw through the lies, he knew Sun for an entire year by this point. They used to be brothers, Nexus wasn’t going to believe Sun didn’t care because Sun never stopped caring. As much as Sun was hurt by Nexus, that was still his brother. It’s kind of similar to his feelings of Moon at the beginning of the show. Moon did some genuinely terrible things to him, but Sun still cared. The only reason this situation is any different is because Moon would sometimes try and show regret over his actions, and Nexus blatantly didn’t care.

Sun found out his brother was kidnapped, had to bargain with the enemy to try and get past another enemy, almost got caught in the crossfire of a deadly fight, and was then tortured by someone he used to call a brother. He was almost forced to watch Solar die purely as a revenge tactic to get back at him, and Sun would have felt it was his fault Solar died. The was only stopped by Moon rushing in to start fighting. Right when it looked like Nexus was about to kill everyone, Dark forced Sun into a rigged choice between killing his brothers. (Edit: It was Ruin’s device that killed Nexus. Sun had no part in physically killing him.)

Once again, really want people to understand that Sun did not kill Nexus. He was simply made to feel like he did. It’s psychological torture, make someone feel as if they are choosing a certain outcome when you are actually in control so that the person will be traumatized by “their own” actions. Dark was very in control of the situation. He very much knew who Sun was going to choose, but forced him into doing so in a way that would make Sun feel like it was his fault. Sun is in no way at fault for Nexus’ death. That is completely on Dark.

In the end, Sun is forced to watch his former brother, someone he still cares very deeply about, die a very violent and painful death. He is forced to think he is the one to cause it. He was already in high distress before hand from Moon’s kidnapping and attempted rescue. Now he is dealing with what is quite possibly his worst trauma yet. This forces him to shut down and dissociate from the problem.

Notice how Sun forces himself not to breakdown until he gets back to the house, and even then he goes to his own room and very quietly starts to cry. Even while he was in extreme emotional pain, he was trying to be considerate of the people around him. He didn’t want to force them to handle him while he was suffering, so he made his suffering as silent and unseen as he could. Because Sun never stops caring.

To say the least, Sun is in an unbearable amount of pain right now. It will be a very long road to recovery for him, if he ever recovers from this.

Solar

Solar seems to be the most level headed in the situation, which isn’t an odd thing. He will usually take on that role in these types of situations. He was also one of the first to say killing Nexus was their best option. He was probably the most prepared for this kind of outcome.

The thing is, as much as Solar might not like it, he is still an Eclipse. He still deals with his problems like most Eclipses do, though arguably better than others. He finds work to do, and he drowns himself in it to avoid his own feelings. Eclipses are kings of repression. Solar doesn’t want to acknowledge his own feelings, so he’s going to forget he even has them.

His current choice of work? Helping Sun. To him, Sun is obviously more hurt than he is, so his own emotions don’t matter. He feels Sun needs more help than him, so he’s not going to show any distress so that the others will focus on Sun and not him. If they focus on him, he will have to feel his feelings, and he doesn’t want that. He wants Sun better, because to him Sun obviously is the one more in need.

I think that’s one of the reasons he got so upset with Moon over the whole “go talk to Sun” situation. No one is helping Sun, and he’s confused on why no one is helping. Sun obviously needs it, why is everyone just leaving him alone? They need to go check on Sun, he’s obviously not okay right now. Why is no one helping Sun?

I thinks there’s a lot of factors at play here, besides just repression. I think is also somewhat projection and reliving trauma too. He basically lived the beginning of his life without help when he was in emotional distress. His Moon never cared about him, blamed him for Sun’s death, and constantly verbally and physically abused him. He was never allowed to grieve. Seeing Sun hurting like this and not getting help is reminding him of his own feelings in past situations where he never got help. He may not realize it, but it’s a possibility. Also, he still has the attachment to his own Sun. I don’t think he likes seeing any Sun (besides Dark) in any sort of pain.

Then there’s the last thing.

Solar had to kill his Moon.

This situation is striking way too close to home.

Solar is probably the only one who genuinely can feel empathy for Sun’s current situation. He’s the only one who knows what it feels like to “pull the trigger”. Nexus was also acting very similar to how Solar’s Moon used to act. And Solar never got any help when it happened. He didn’t even tell anyone, he covered it up and tried to forget. I think Lunar is the only one who knows about it, and Lunar never did anything about it. Solar was forced to go through nearly this exact situation, and he does not want to see Sun go through what he had to go through.

(On top of all this, Solar was very close to Nexus before his death. He’s not showing it, but he is very much hurt by what is happening. The only reason he is probably not in more distress is because he prepared for this being a possible outcome.)

Earth

To be completely honest, I have been way more focused on the others in this situation. Earth is also one of the easiest characters to read, as she verbally voices her feeling to everyone and has never really felt the need to hide them. We already know she’s upset by the situation, and is probably going to have some sort of mildly poor coping mechanism, but she is going to be the most emotionally okay out of everyone. Not because she is feeling okay, but because she’s the most in tune with her own feelings, and with how to properly handle those feelings.

I’m not saying she’s going to be perfectly okay over this. She is obviously still very hurt and troubled. I am also not trying to downplay her emotions. She is definitely going to need the others to help her. This portion isn’t short because I don’t like her, it’s just short because she is genuinely the best off in this situation. She knows how to find help when she needs it and, even better, she will ask for it.

Monty & Lunar

I’m sticking them together because I feel very similar ways about them.

I do not understand their reactions to the current situation.

Monty is more understandable. He was always closer to Moon than he was to Nexus. That much was very obvious. The moment Moon came back they got drunk and partied, and then feel right back into their old friendship. Monty was seemingly completely unaffected by Nexus’ change of heart. He very much only cares about themself and Earth.

The way he’s acting currently is not helping the situation. At all. It’s even worse than Moon’s reaction, in my opinion. Moon at least feels he is helping Sun. Monty is doing nothing. “Nexus is dead? Cool. Let’s hide this from Earth because it will hurt her and I can’t stand seeing that.” That is going to hurt Earth a lot worse in the long run if she was never told. She doesn’t like lies, even by omission. You already are hurting others by being apathetic, do not hurt Earth because seeing her hurt will hurt you. That’s fucked up.

Then there’s Lunar. I’ve already talked about my feelings on him, but I still cannot figure him out. He’s always been a very apathetic character when he’s not interested or running from emotional pain. But this? This feels almost malicious. He doesn’t seem to care. Usually when he is running, he’ll verbally tell everyone he knows what he’s doing. He knows it’s bad. But right now he is not saying anything. His is either dissociating from the problem to the point he is numb, or he is so genuinely unbothered that there isn’t any sort of care in his heart.

This doesn’t feel like Lunar. This has never been his reaction to anything before. We haven never seen this from him at this scale. It feels so violently out of character for someone who is very emotional and loud about it.

At this point, I am starting to wonder if the Star power is having a bigger effect on him than we think. We all know that the Astrals deal with apathy to most things. Even Castor and Pollux has said they don’t react to things like most people expect them to. They do not have the ability to care in a way the feels human. Since Lunar has been training to become an Astral, I’m starting to wonder if this will begin to mentally change him as well.

I am not saying that apathy is a bad thing to have. I am not saying Lunar is wrong to feel this way. I am simply saying it feels violently out of character, and is not helpful in the situation at all.

These two are currently being the least helpful in this situation. They do not care, and do not feel the need to soften their apathy and help the others. Lunar is actually the most unsympathetic out of the group, which is actually a stark contrast to how he usually is portrayed.

[firstfirerebel]

𝕽𝖎𝖉𝖉𝖑𝖊

Sumary: Part 2 of 𝕳𝖎𝖘

Pairing: yandere! adult! Tom Riddle/Voldemort x fem! reader

Warnings: dark content, yandere/toxic behavior, death eaters, kidnapped reader, hints to torture,

Same timeline as in Part 1

A week has passed since you got kidnapped by the dark lord himself, and it hasn't been an easy or calm week. Luckily, he wasn't around you often because he had so many meetings with different death eaters to give them new missions and updates on his plans. Much to his dismay. Every time he had to leave your side, he wasn't in a good mood, and everybody knew that.

Unfortunately, he intended to actually have a romantic relationship with you. Until now, he hasn't forced you to anything, but you knew it was only a matter of time or your behavior.

Even though he wanted to give you some time to get used to everything, he still insisted on sleeping in the same bed as you. It wasn't as bad as you imagined it at first, but it was still uncomfortable. Mostly, he suddenly hugged you from behind, hid his nose in your hair or your neck, and dozed off. Getting free was impossible. He almost clinched to you, and when you tried to escape his arms, he just tightened his grip.

Escaping would be a real problem. You didn't even know where this mansion was. Were you in England? Or was this in Scotland or completely somewhere else?

Was only the mansion surrounded by Death Eaters or the scenery around it, too?! Did Tom think you would try to escape or not?

Lost in your thoughts, you didn't hear the knock on the door. When the person entered, you were relieved that it wasn't Riddle. It was Narcissa.

"I knocked, but you didn't awnser. The Dark Lord wishes to meet you,"

As on your first day, you followed her. She was pretty fast so keeping her pace was a bit difficult. Once you reached his so called 'office', Narcissa immediately walked away and left you alone with him.

When Tom saw you, he basically ran to you and pulled you into his arms. His breath was so loud for you, and you hated his touch to be honest, but at least it wasn't something worse.

"I missed you", he whispered into your ear.

Suddenly you realised that you two weren't alone, the curly head of Bellatrix was behind Tom. He seemed to notice your discomfort.

"Bellatrix, leave. I want to be alone with her", she was obliviously mad at that but still left the room without a word.

He turned his head back to you.

"Better?"

You didn't do anything. Fearing that a wrong awnser would make him mad, you just hugged him again and hid your face in his chest. Hugging him wasn't something you enjoyed, but if you closed your eyes and just felt his warmth, it was a little comfort in this so cold building and every time you hugged him, it made him happy, and a happy Tom was better than an upset one.

His clothes smelled like a library, or just good old books, which calmed you a little. In libraries, you have always felt safe. With no bullies around or other loud students, it felt like heaven.

And a safe place was now all you needed. Since he even talked about having kids, you knew some bad things would come, though it was questionable if he intended to do it with you 'wanting' this or if he didn't care.

"Tom?" You had to ask him, even if it would make him mad...

Instead of saying something, he kissed the top of your head to show you he was paying attention.

"What if I'm not ready for kids? I mean, I would love to start a family with you, but I'm scared", Liar liar pants on fire, was all your brain screamed.

Instead of freaking out, Tom was really calm. He put his hands on your shoulders and looked straight into your eyes.

"It's okay, my love. Y'know I was scared too, I was scared that something would hurt you without me being able to protect you, but after I killed this mudblood. I realised that nothing could take you away from me",

So badly you wanted to scream 'I didn't and still don't want this! Get yourself to therapy, you creep!' But you didn't dare it and your question still had no awnser. Would he dare to harm you for his 'lust' or should you consider it a wish? Again he pulled you close and hid his nose in your hair.

You somehow found comfort in his touch and immediately you knew that you had to run away as soon as you had the chance. Otherwise you might not be able to keep your sanity.

This man kidnapped you! Killed people! Hurts and tortures others every day! He is mad! You mustn't feel this way when he hugs you! Especially if you didn't even want this touch!

But still, you were scared to end this hug. Somehow, Tom couldn't get enough of physical contact with you, and if you pulled away, he might freak out like on your first day.

Flashbacks of how he threw the whole table through the room made you shiver, and you knew if he wanted to harm you, he could easily do it. Obviously, he didn't even fear the ministry. What could you do against him?

Even your wand was taken away from you. You were literally helpless in this situation. Tom wouldn't just hand it over once you asked nicely... most likely giving you your wand back would be the proof of trust towards you.

But every day you had to stay here, increased the possibility of getting mad.

Maybe even the food or the drinks that were served to you had a little bit of love potion in it. Not enough for you to fall for Tom immediately, but enough so you would fall for him over some time.

This couldn't and mustn't happen!

Even one more day here could become dangerous. You had to flee! But you also had to be clever. If you would start to act weird, he might realize that you were up to something. Though some 'making him happy' wouldn't hurt as well...

"Tom, do you have one more meeting with your death eaters today? I don't want to be alone all this time..."Your voice really sounded sad, and you even let out a sigh at the end. Luckily, you have always been a good actress.

"Yes, one late at night. You'll be asleep when I return. And I also don't like being parted from you, but we'll find a solution, okay?" You nodded for a yes and even could fake a small smile towards him.

OK, fleeing when it was night was scary, but also easier. In the dark, you could easily hide from preying eyes and maybe even get a safe distance to this place. It had to be tonight. Another day here would be too risky.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Once you were back in your room and Tom was about 10 minutes gone, you changed from your nightgown to a comfortable jeans and a warm hoodie, beneath you also wore a T-shirt just in case and of course a warm jacket.

Silently, you opened the door towards your room. Without a wand, your survival skills wouldn't be the best, so you had to find a wand first. It didn't matter if it was your or not. As long as you could make simple spells like 'Incendio', it was enough.

Luck was once on your side. In the office of Tom, you found your own wand in the first drawer. Back on the corridor, you conjured the disillusionment charm on yourself. It wasn't the safest option but better than nothing.

You kept running the stairs down until you were at the ground floor of this mansion. Out of the front door, you sticked to the walls just in case someone wanted to look outside the window.

Surprisingly this was much easier than you thought...

It was pitch black, which was a blessing and a curse at the same time. You could barely see your own hand, but this also meant that no other person could see you from afar and chase after you the moment they saw you.

Around the mansion was a huge fence, so you had to open the old gate that was rusty and squeaky ! Not good...

When you opened it, it didn't make as much noise as you feared. But still, you had to run now, which was very hard in the dark, but you didn't dare to make any light with 'Lumos'. In the worst case, they already knew that you were gone and made up teams or something to find you. Well, 'they' were 'him' in this case.

You ran until you saw trees around you. You weren't exactly the sportiness in person, but all the fear that built up over the days you were captured started to overcome you and gave you so much adrenalin that you managed to keep running. Fear also from the fear of him finding you again and doing worse things to you than he already did.

You felt your head becoming hot and your legs getting tired. Your vision was almost blurry, so you had to stop. Though you didn't see much, you saw three trees around you, and the floor was covered in dark leaves. You tried to calm your breath so you didn't make too much noise. You also tried to hear as much as possible.

But you didn't hear any steps or any running, nor any speaking. The only thing that was heard was the wind, the chill wind that felt like heaven. Not only because you just ran away as fast as possible, but also because you never heard the wind in the mansion. Neither did you feel it against your cheeks in the past week.

The air also felt much better. It wasn't thick and warm. It was fresh and cold, and you even smelled the forest you were in. The trees had their own smell, just like anything else did.

And finally, you felt happiness again.

You wanted to scream it out, but couldn't. So, instead, you threw yourself into this feeling and started to twirl yourself around in the forest.

Now you knew how hamsters or other small animals felt. In the past week, you were in a different kind of cage, but still a cage. You weren't able to do your own hobbies that became a need to you. No going out to hear the birds or just smell the grass. Cause he didn't want it. Somehow, you felt like a little pet to him. He could do to you whether you liked it or not. You were at his mercy. He could have just let you starve when he thought you didn't act like he wanted you to. Or maybe just lock you in a room cause he thought you were annoying. But also do anything else to of with you.

The thought made you sick to the stomach. No one should live a life like that. Silently, your eyes began to burn, and then the hot tears rolled your face down.

If he would manage to bring you back, you knew you would go crazy. You weren't some kind of thing that he could possess. You were your own person with needs and wishes, but if he would ever realize that was the question.

In fact, now you saw that Tom didn't really love you. In his twisted mind, he did, but he saw himself more as your 'owner'. He 'loved' the idea of you with him but not you as the person you were. In his mind, you weren't even allowed to have any friends that he saw as bad influence, neither would he tolerate you doing something that could hurt you.

He just wanted a real-life doll of you that did whatever he wanted, but still loved and adored him. But conflicts belonged into a relationship. Two people can't always share the same opinion.

In the end, this realization was what got you captured again.

You were so deep into your thoughts that you didn't hear the mad laughter you hated. The craziness in a voice. Bellatrix. Once she saw your silhouette, she started to laugh again. Actually, she didn't want you to return at all. But maybe she could add some bloody scratches before she returned to the dark lord. If she was the one who brought you back, he would definitely praise her! That was something no one would take away from her. And again, a 'stupor' met you, and everything went pitch black. Again...

[brucewaynehater101]

I've had a brain worm enter my mind and I can't stop thinking about it warning it gets kinda violent

Imagine:

Evil alternate yj core four kidnap the og core four(I'm gonna use the hero names for the regular yj), the evil ones bring og back the their universe(the evil one) and torture them. (Evil versions are all displayed as pink)

Evil Bart locks Impulse in a freezing room and starves him almost lethally making him unable or simply too tired to use the speed force, keeping him just fed enough that he's not dead but instead just constantly hungry, keeping his body just above hypothermic ranges but too cold to actually use his abilities.

Evil Kon starts messing with superboy's DNA, while this doesn't cause much physical pain for Superboy it does absolutely fuck up his mental state, having someone unconsentually mess with his DNA in the same way he was created? It destroys him, more than getting fangs does, or growing three inches taller, or his hair growing in blonde, or having brown eyes does. Just the fact that this evil version of himself is actively making clones of them and fiddling with his DNA breaks him.

Evil Cassie is one I haven't thought much about, she might honestly just make Wonder girl listen to her friends suffering, or something like that(I don't know much about Wonder girl so if anyone has any recommendations for what to read to get to know her better I'd be so grateful).

But evil Tim....oh evil Tim starts immediately injecting Red Robin with all kinds of toxins, poisons, and drugs while monologuing(sounding like this song[nothing]...when he notices Red Robin growing a resistance to those injections evil Tim starts taking things. Non important organs, chunks of skin, patches of hair, while also starting to destroy Red Robin ability to outwardly express emotions. Like physically express emotions. He slices Red Robin's cheeks open so he's got permanent scars in the form of a smile, he fiddles with Red Robin's vocal cords so he can't raise his voice without being in pain, he surgically removes Red Robin's tear ducts yet comes in every two minutes to put hydrating eye drops in Red Robin eyes. Evil Tim doesn't want Red Robin dead or permanently blind no he just wants to ruin tim..

When they eventually escape, by Superboy getting tired and killing the evil version of himself before throwing the evil version of Bart through several walls and getting Impulse out then Getting Wonder Girl before finally retrieving Red Robin, they somehow find their way back to their original universe. Every single one of them gets hugged by their parents/mentors, Cassie and Kon are crying, Bart is still pretty cold and very hungry so he's eating and being absolutely covered in blankets while Tim is just standing there, Batman is asking him all kinds of questions and constantly repeating the question are you okay but Tim just emptily answers them. No emotion or inflection to his tone, he's completely monotone. After a couple of minutes the young justice end up all staying at Tim's apartment, every two minutes Tim goes to the bathroom and just kinda pours water in his eyes because of how dry they're getting, the other three immediately pick up on this and Kon runs to a store to get eye drops. They do this little routine of putting drops in Tim's eyes for a few weeks before one day as Cassie's getting ready to help Tim with the eye drops Jason climbs through the window, freezing slightly before walking to go grab Tim's first aid kit. As his fixing up whatever wound he has this time Jason questions what Tim and Cassie were doing as he found them with Tim sitting on the couch, head tilted back and eyes being held open by Cassie who's standing behind the couch with a bottle of something positioned over his eyes. Tim tells Jason that he's missing his tear ducts and Jason reasonably freaks the fuck out, cue batman being called and some emotional scene happens only for it to be broken by Cassie who straight up asks Tim if he'd like some artificial tears because both Jason and Bruce are crying but Tim can't. So he straight up just says "y'know what. Yeah, tear me Cassie." Making everyone laugh. A couple days later Damian is looking at Tim very intently and Tim questions him only to be met with ".. something looks different about your eyes." Only for Tim to wide eyed stare at Damian until he notices Tim's missing tear ducts. Cue crack/fluff with the rest of the fam

I ended that pretty weakly but I'm rlly tired and haven't slept yet so sorry if there are a ton of plot holes!♡

Holy shit. This was so dark, but all the colors are beautiful. I've been excited to answer this one due to how aesthetically pleasing it is, lmao.

Carrying on!

Might I say that Tim is just fucked. You really tortured poor Tim that I doubt he'd be able to express any emotions for a long time (not a criticism! Found the methods to be intriguing). Therefore, I think his loved ones would get used to his displays of affection changing.

Some days, even talking hurts. He just remains silent through both mental and physical blocks. Some ways he does this for YJ:

Bart's suit was remade with heaters and coolant that lasts for at least a week. He also hides a shit ton of calorie dense food on Bart and carries some for himself.

Cassie has access to YJ's vitals. When on a mission, she can glance at a screen that details how injured or safe her teammates are

Tim, after getting enthusiastic consent from Kon, reverses any effects. He also finds a way to prevent the DNA manipulation of Kon to his best ability (might not be perfect). He also includes a device that will get rid of all DNA substances Kon leaves behind (like blood, hair, skin, etc.) and gives it to Kon

Through science and magic and whatever, Tim's need to put eye drops in diminishes. He doesn't get them back, but he only needs to put them in every 24 hours or so.

Anyways, nifty and horrifying AU :)

[sleepisoverrated]

My headcanons about Dick Grayson

Dick is touched starved.

Think about it he grew up in a circus, that he considered family, when he was little he always got physical affection and after he was adopted by Bruce he still got some(because lets face it Bruce was a softie for Dick when he was Robin) though a lot less because Bruce isn't a touchy person, but after being fired and going solo he had a lot less physical affection from his loved ones(especially when he had a "falling out" with the Titans and YJ). I think over time he became touched starved, thats why he gives bear hugs and is more affectionate to everyone. AlsoI think it got slightly better when he was Batman and had his Robin. That's why Damian is more clingy with him and allows Dicks affection (He also knows when not to touch)(Also you can't convince me Dick isn't Damians favourite person and that they don't share a father-son relationship (mentor-student, older brother-younger brother, hero-sidekick, hero-fan all of these also aply))

Dick is still angry with Bruce about a lot of things.

How he took away Robin. How he dared give it away without his notice or permission. How he made Robin into a mantle. How he found out he took in Jason and gave him Robin from a newspaper. How he failed Jason and then blamed him. How he didn't say that Jason died. How he wasn't even invited to his funeral. How he kept secret that Jason was alive. How he used a batarang on Jason, almost killing him again, instead of Joker. How he treated Damian when he first came here and sometimes even now. How he purposely separated him from Damian, because he was jealous (of their father-son relationship). How Bruce beat him into submission to join Spyral. How that wasn't the first time Bruce hit him. How Bruce never made a backup plan to extract him from Spyral. How Bruce forgot(got amnesia) him in Spyral. How he lied to his siblings that he went along willingly with it. (If you can't tell I like Angry Dick Grayson fics)

‌Dick and Slade are frenemies.

Basically as long as Dick doesn't interfere with his jobs, they are close friends, but as soon as he interferes they don't hold back from lethal force. I know Slade kidnapped him and kinda tortured him and Dick was obsessed with him to the point of insanity, BUT they both obsessed over one another so much that they know eachother the best and after a while they sorta lost their motivation to constantly fight(though spars are still fair game, the only rule is the other doesn't die) eachother. So now they meet up monthly to bitch and complain about their lives and gossip like old ladies, with some alcohol on a random rooftop. They are the embodiment of don't mix business with pleasure, when they meet on one of Slades jobs they pull out all stops and fight viciously, mercilessly and brutally, but the next day(night?) Slade comes over with the good whiskey and they spend their night watching the rom-coms, because Dick thinks it's funny to force the Terminator to watch them and because he's endlessly amused when Slade actually gets invested in it.

Dick Grayson taught Damian.

About the Romani language/culture, acrobatics, trapeze, circus, travel, all the recipes of Romani dishes that he knows, Romani stories, Robin tricks, stories, secrets (By Romani culture Damian is his son and they both decided to keep that a secret from the others, btw he also learned about Damians Arabic traditions, foods, language). I think that Damian values this more than his inheritance as an Al-Ghul and Wayne, because Dick chose to give his culture and inheritance to him, not because he was obliged to.

...So you seemed to like my rant's/headcanon's *throws cautiously some more headcanons in your direction*... have some more?

P.S. Someone pointed out that there are a lot of canon in the last post instead of headcanon's, but I read so little of the comics that I can't really tell whats canon and whats not.

[fraugwinska]

HAPPY HALLOWEEN! 🎃 Jesus, today is a day of Uploads! xD I have to upload a buttload of more stuff, so bear with me! I didn#t think I'd finish on time - butt here it is! My take on Hazbin meets DBD! The Wheel of Misfortune gave me Angel to work with, and despite all odds, I wrote a story without SMUT! Can you believe it? :D The Masterlist can be found here - check out the works of all the other, talented writers and artists! It will be updated frequently, as Kinktober and other shenanigans came inbetween some of us and the deadline. But that only means we'll have fantastic fics and delicious drawings to look forward to! Thank you to everyone participating - for making this Event such a special one! You all are AMAZING! @redvexillum @ritualofcirice @chefskjssart @dewdropdinosaur @lumikello24

@macabr3-barbi3 @xalygatorx @melodyonthewireless @kewpikayo @jurijyuu

Warnings&Tags: Major Character Death, Pain & Torture, Physical & Psychological Abuse, Kidnapping/Abduction

Night. It was always fucking night.

Danny hadn't minded when the entity, whatever it was, had called on him. When the fog arrived, shortly after he left Roseville, he had embraced it, yeah, even felt giddy - he hated boredom, loved the thrill of the chase. And the realm the soundless voice promised him seemed to be a remedy for both. His old routine renewed by almost wickedly enhanced powers, his slaughters improved with every new, fresh meat hooked that he didn't care enough about to learn their names.

The first weeks the entity sent him alone into the woods in between trials. An unspoken pledge that once Danny has proven his worth, he'd join the others. Killers, like him, an arsenal of evil, depravity and death. He was intrigued by the prospect - acclimating in this environment was fun, but the real thing would be asserting himself next to legends like Myers or Krueger. So he did what he did best - Stalk and chase and kill, each new trial bumping up his adrenaline and fuck it was fun. Barely a trial went by where he didn't get the full set of kills, his reward plenty by the looming black thing above, sending him new powers and an overpowering sense of accomplishment. And if he missed one or two, the entity would soothe his flaring anger, the fog cold and calm on his skin when the world around him would collapse in fire and smoke - Don't worry about the pests that got away - There's next time, Danny Boy. And he always got them next time.

Finally he felt it - as the ground split in glowing reds and the heat took over the Autohaven, he felt the hot, dripping claws of the entity christen him. He had succeeded the trial by literal fire, and as he was pulled away, not north towards the lone patch of woods he had come to know, but south, the presence of evil growing bigger by the second, Danny left his old, useless name behind. The entity had given him a new one, one that he embraced with a laugh of euphoria: Ghostface.

***

While the survivors, as they called them so ironically, gathered around a campfire between trials, the hunters - killers, for a better term - were granted a real home. A shack in the same woods somewhere, filled with an Arsenal of weapons and tools for them to use as they pleased, and blood-stained, torn seats around a burning fireplace. Most of them lived in their own heads, some of them too animalistic to socialize. The ones that wanted to spend their times waiting together for ‘The Call’ on those seats, sometimes indulging in the strong, burning drinks the entity manifested along new blades or rods when she was pleased with them. And as all groups, the hunters, too, had a leader, as far as leaders can exist in a group of hungry wolves. Evan MacMillan was that one, although he, as most of the others, shed himself of that name when he became the Trapper. He was respected amongst both the vocal and silent, strong, calm and cold-blooded enough to keep brawls in between them to a minimum, one of the oldest and longest standing killers of the entity. But even he, after so many trials he had withstood, so many survivors he had killed through either the entity's hooks or his own hands, has never experienced anything like this before.

"Shit, come on, Bubba, get yourself together man." One of the Legions, Frank, clumsily patted the wailing monstrums back. The Hillbilly had never been able to speak more than just grunts and howls, making communicating with him often hard and frustrating, but the sounds he made now weren't hard to interpret - he, too, had just ended a trial with the new survivor. And as with a lot of them before, it wasn't the prey that had been scared and traumatized, but the predator.

The Nightmare took a swig of the last bottle of whiskey they had, hissing at the burn. "Can't blame the poor fuck - I've seen the dreams of that freak.... swear to god even I got nightmares after that."

"Frederick, pace yourself and leave some for the poor man." The Doctor chimed in, taking the bottle out of the sharp clawed hands and handing it to the Hillbilly with a mournful expression. "Only one chug, lad. Going at this rate, we might as well start to get accustomed to bread and water... She is not happy with us."

"Кто может винить ее? Мы все подвели ее с этим существом." (Who can blame her? We all have failed her with that creature.)

The Huntress threw another hatchet into a nearby wall, hitting the middle of the target she had painted with blood next to her previous four. Although her eyes were hidden behind the rabbit mask, Evan and the others could hear the sourness in her voice.

"Uhuh, sure, babe, whatever you say." Legion mumbled and rolled his eyes, handing the still sniffing Bubba a dirty rag to wipe his deformed nose with.

"Huntress is saying what we all think, Legion. We are failing. All of us." Evan sighed and brought one of his massive, rough hands up to wipe sweat from his temples. He knew the ropes of the entity's game, knew that some survivors had advantages, were more courageous or daring, even defiant. Evan was good, but not perfect, and he wasn't so far gone like some of the others to expect their victims to stay quivering, fearful messes like when they are freshly called upon. But the new one...

He... or it? Was so much more different than any survivor before him. Tall and lean, which would've normally make it so much harder to hide from them, flashy instead of discreet, loud and boastful instead of silent and secretive... human-like and yet so not-human at all.

"Ahhhh, another four for four, bitches!" The newcomer, Ghostface, as he had introduced himself, kicked open the door to the shack, his flowy robes drenched in blood and slimy mud that told Evan he'd been at Backwater Swamp. "Oh god, don't tell me Billy-Boy was too pussy to get over that new Survivor, too?"

The whole room growled at that remark, and Evan sighed in annoyance. The Ghostface had made more foes than allies in those few days he'd been sent to them as an addition to the entity's team of murderers. It wasn't that he was cocky, crude or obnoxious - they all were like that when they first came to the realm. What irked them all was the sense of superiority he wore so obviously on his sleeve, convinced that he was the entity's favorite, blessed by her dark energy and favored by her will.

"Fuck you, Ghostface, leave Bubba alone!" Legion spat, his facemask cracking with anger, while the Nightmare threw him a look of disgust and Michael, usually stoic and silent, turned his emotionless mask to its screaming counterpart, the blackened, hollow eyes almost flowing out with angered darkness. Evan wanted to shake the boy under the costume when he just laughed, the mockery blatant and offensive. "Are you guys telling me you, the creme de la creme of carnage, can't get a newbie under control?!"

The Trickster, who had been playing with his throwing blades with more than just an exasperated expression (which Evan could understand, given that his humiliating loss against the new survivor left too fresh of a wound in his ego), stood up with a hiss in the language none of them had been able to learn yet, but the Legion was faster, leaving Bubba in the care of the Wraith, stomping towards the cackling figure. "Listen, Fuckface - he asked the Spirit if she could give him tips about SHIBARI and yelled 'Harder Daddy' when the goddamn Executor tried to slam him into the ground... THAT'S NOT NORMAL!"

The Shape huffed in agreement, and the Nightmare added his own opinion in a raspy voice, scratching his distinctive scars around the face and neck: "I agree, he's fucking weird - insane, not scared of any of us. He doesn't even look like a normal survivor, and that's comin' from someone with that kinda face."

"That's a whole lot of words to say that you suck at your jobs, fellas." Ghostface retorted with a sneer in his voice, running his gloved fingers along his shining knife, the hilt still covered in blood spots but the blade pristine and almost glowing.

"Enough." Evan said, his voice booming across the room, effectively shutting the others up.

"You talk big, Ghostface. But you haven't had a trial with the one they call 'Angel' yet." Evan and the others felt the familiar cool wisps of air, harbingers of the arrival of the black fog for another trial. The Entity whispered the names of the prey into the winds - Evan had learned to listen for them long ago, and under his never-changing mask, he felt his lips pull into a rare smile. It was a gamble, risking to topple the weak chain of authority they had established among each other. But Evan felt that he wouldn't deserve the title nor the respect that came with being the leader if he would let this petty behavior and destructive jealousy continue. The favored one needed a well-deserved damper on his ego, and maybe the newest survivor - who- or whatever he was - could teach him that lesson. He stopped the Skull Merchant that had stood up to offer herself to take the trial with a wave of his bear-like hands and turned to the young killer, pointing his makeshift ax in his direction. "Maybe you are right. Maybe me and the others just don't have what it takes anymore to honor the Entity."

The silence that fell over the shack was heavy as the Entity's presence grew stronger, and Evan was sure the others could feel it, too, her excitement building up and electrifying the atmosphere surrounding the killer's shack. He ignored the burning fury in Legion's eyes, the angry scratch of Freddy's claws over moldy wood. The young man tilted his head in curious interest, letting his finger press into the edge of his blade until the leather broke and blood started to drip out of it in crimson pearls.

"Here's your opportunity. Show us, Ghostface, how you will fare against this new kind of prey."

***

"Oh my god, toots, move over, I can't watch this a second longer."

Angel rolled his eyes at the meek girl, brushing her dirty blonde hair out of her face as she let him take over. The other two were useless too - that Ace guy couldn't do shit even if his life depended on it - huh, which it literally did, now that Angel thought about it. And Renato was a sweet dude, a little too nerdy for Angel's taste, but he was still too rattled after his last trial with that hunk of a killer with the butt-stupid metal triangle head to be of any help except for maybe cleansing totems in between hiding in lockers. Angel couldn't blame him - he had seen how Sexy Back had Mori'd the poor dude, and it had not been the kind of gutted that Angel would've liked either. But Kate was a cool gal, a pretty face and too nice for her own good but normally very capable. She reminded him a little of Charlie, and the thought always stung faintly in his chest. Normally she would've rocked the generators, but for some reason, she was nervous and erratic this trial, her eyes always wandering around, looking over her shoulder every few seconds and fucking up the gen more than she repaired it. He let his second pair of arms grow out of his sides, cutting the time it took to finish the rest in half, and with a click the machine roared to life, steadily pumping electricity into the mainline for the exit gates. One down - four more to go.

"Jesus with a strap-on, Kate, I thought with what you look like you'd know how to get an engine going." He teased, but the girl didn't seem to even hear him, her eyes still scanning the dark woods behind them. "Sorry, Angel, sorry... it's just... don't you feel it?" "If you mean Big Mama's presence, then yeah. Pretty much hard to ignore with all the black claws and shit, but I've gotten used to it. Kinda feels like a well-worn, cheap training bra now." "No, not that... I think someone is watching us. Like... stalking."

Angel grabbed her arm and pulled her into some nearby bushes, the neon signs of the worn-down cinema blinking in the near distance. "Babes, 'ya know I can handle Mute Mikey. What I can't handle is you loosin' 'ya head now. Fuckin' Ace is hard enough to carry." They both crept along the sides of the forest nearer to the building. "It's not Michael... I can't explain... it feels different, like when Claudette told me..."

Whatever Claudette had told Kate - Angel wasn't about to hear it as Ace's screams of terror echoed through the forest from the other side of the entity's caged playground.

"Motherf... okay, 'ya go get that dumbass and heal up, imma find a gen and fuck it up so whoever it is will get distracted. Stay low, kay, sugartits?" Kate nodded with wide eyes, and ran into the darkness. Angel cursed that dumb fucker, finding a gen around a corner and let it misfire before he made a quick turn and went through the broken wall into the cinema show room of the Greenville Theatre. Fuck, a movie would be nice - watching one of making one, anything would be better than this. He silently went up the stairs into the storage room and began to work on the generator there.

Eyes on the goal.

Surviving wasn't what Angel saw as the goal. Even if he'd die in mommy's sick game, he knew from seeing the others revive at the campfire, only to be sent to another trial again a few moments later. Living or dying, Angel couldn't find himself to care, although he always chose to live, even if the others kicked the bucket and he was the last one standing. No, the goal was to get the fuck out of that shitty nightmare Val had sent him into. 

Whatever he had fucked up with 'The Entity', it must've been huge because the last time he saw him he was barely alive even by hell's standart. His wings were ripped from his back, his insides hanging out of a fat gash on his side and the studio a chaotic mass of fire, smoke and debris. And in all of it stood she. 

Roo. 

That's what Val had called her anyway, that bitch in edgy clothes and with those manic eyes, smiling in such a terrifying, blinding way with teeth sharp as an excorcist's blade that Angel thought just that smile could smite an army of sinners if she wanted to.

"Roo... I can expl...ain." Val had stuttered, blood running freely out of his mouth drenching his words.

"No need, Valentino. You and the other Vee's went all in with chips out of my own pocket, and you lost. And I don't like losing my stake."

She had summoned black, claw-like spikes, writhing like insects towards a panicking Val. He stumbled two steps back, noticing Angel creeping away, towards the crumbled wall, the running masses and the open streets of the Pentagram. Angel had seen Charlie and Vaggie forcing their way towards the burning ruins. And Husk. His Husk, wings outstreched and he was fucking flying over them all towards Angel. He had never seen him fly before.

"You can... Take! T...TTake him!!!" Val had screamed, falling to his knees as he pointed to Angel, coughing red and black onto the formerly pink, tacky tiles. His words sent a wave of hate and fear through Angel, and his eyes went from Charlie's tear-stained face to Husk screaming his name as he flapped his wings to pick up speed and fell onto her. Smiling at him, one slender, white finger with a black, pointy nail pressed into her cheek. She watched the cat demon dodge a falling beam and looked... amused as her eyes found his. She winked.

"Fine, you'll do."

Before Angel could even breathe to say something, or run, black fog encapsulated him, and only her glowing white smile and Husk's distressed scream of his name followed him as he fell through the darkness.

No. Surviving was just a crutch, a means to an end. His goal was to get that bitch Roo. To find his way out of this fucking mess. Back home, back to the hotel, back to Charlie and Vaggie and Niffty and even Alastor.  And most importantly: Back to fucking Husk.

Almost done with the gen his head turned as he heard two sounds at the exact same time: The sound of another generator coming alive and Renato's pained cry. That stupid man... Instead of running, Renato most likely had stayed on the gen to finish it, sacrificing himself to be thrown onto a hook. Angel shook his head, trying hard to focus on connecting cables and switch out gears. The others could get him off. They had learned that he was best at two things: Getting gen’s to work and screw with the killers.

But apparently, no one came close to Renato in time - when Angel stood up from the now running machine, he felt the dreading boom of a successful sacrifice - Renato had been swallowed by the entity, and from the muffled screams and misfiring generators him he knew that Ace had been already hung up too, and Kate was at least injured, if not on her way to be hooked by this rounds killer. Another boom told him Ace had given up - that asshole had most likely struggled too much to get himself off instead of waiting for him or Kate, and lost the fight against Roo's hungry claws. Which left him and Kate, and two generators to open the exit gates - not the best odds, with how fast this Killer acted and how idiotically nervous the usually so assured girl fumbled with the generators. He could wait for Kate to die and go for the hatch, but Angel knew he wouldn't. Not for Kate. Not after seeing so much of Charlie in her.

He made a dash down the stairs and through the arcade room, peeking his head out and spotting Kate's limp body on a nearby meat hook, swaying gently in the breeze. next to her stood an unfamiliar, cloaked silhouette, twirling a knife skillfully in gloved hands. This fucker was new, someone Angel had never encountered before. But he had heard things about him. The guys around the campfire had been wary of him, but as usual, Angel quickly had most of the girls at least interested in and friendly to him, and from the latest conversations, he remembered Feng-Min and Claudette talking about a new killer, a stalker like Magic Mike but more real, more humanlike which made them even more terrified of him. Someone that, unlike the others Angel encountered, seemed to be almost casual and gleeful to have been wisped away and thrown into trials by Roo, treating the trials like a personal, fun game... and from what he heard, he always won them.

He looked around and found an old can. Quickly and noiseless, he snuck along the Arcade walls to the opposite doorway, and hurled it with as much force as he could into the woods, trying to hit a hook to make as much noise as possible. He heard the guy's quiet steps outside, quickly but silently rushing towards his distraction, and Angel grinned as he exited the arcade room and ran towards a groaning Kate.

"Shh, babe, we ain't got much time, that fucker's fast." Angel whispered, quickly working on patching Kate up so she wouldn't leave a bloody trail behind her. "Angel, he's too good, I can't..." "'Ya can. I'll handle tall, dark and gruesome, make sure he won't get near 'ya. But 'ya gotta do two gens, okay? Open the exit the furthest away from us and go. Don't wait up for me - I can handle myself." His sentence ended as he finished closing her wound, and he shoved her into some bushes after she hesitantly looked around. "Don't argue, just move your ass, toots, and hide till the creep's found me."

Kate nodded, giving him a weak smile and a hushed 'Thanks, Angel.' before she turned and vanished between the trees. Angel looked up, the dark clouds swirling above him as the entity's - Roo's - displeasure vibrated through the air. She always hated when he did things like these - helping the others (maybe it was the general idea of doing good deeds) and her getting pissed off make Angel smug and satisfied.

"Yeah, yeah, bitch, rage all 'ya want - Bite me."

Angel didn't even try to be decent, no, he not much less than swaggered in the direction of where he threw the can. It was quiet, except for the humming of the generator Renato must've finished, but no sign of the cloaked figure. 

“Gee, look at little old me! All alone in the woods, totally helpless. Such a shame.”

Angel discreetly traced for blood or maybe footprints as he rounded a nearby hook, trailing the cold metal with one finger. He had a feeling of being watched, and yet couldn't see anything but trees and grass and dirt. The fog was thicker here, and a shiver ran through him as he could feel a pair of eyes on him, watching, waiting.

“Where are ‘ya, daddy-o? Baby lost his pacifier and needs something else to suck on…”

A quiet whir behind him made him turn and grab a lean and muscular arm, stopping the blade just mere inches away from his side. He stared not into a face, but a mask - a white, cheap looking rubber one, a white face with two black holes that looked like they were melting and a long, equally black mouth open as if in a blood-curdling scream. Angel cackled and tugged the arm, the killer surprised by his unexpected strength, stumbling forward until his head hit the hard, rusty metal of the meat hook.

"Uuuuh, what a nice long blade 'ya have, hot stuff." he cooed, putting his hands on his hips with a smirk as the cloaked figure whipped around with a grunt. "But if 'ya want to rearrange my guts, I know other things than a knife that are way more fun."

"You're a mouthy one, huh?" His voice was rough and saturated with aggravation. Young, not as young as the Legion fuckers, but younger than most of the killers Angel had met.

"Oh, daddy, 'ya don't know half of what my mouth can do. Care to find out?"

Angel dodged and tripped him as the killer pounced forward, quick but not inhumanly quick - interesting. His height was human, his voice too, his mannerisms, his motions, his speed and his abilities... not supernatural. Not like the other killers at all. He used the second of his weak momentum to lock the already twisting figure between his legs, pinning him on the waist into the dirty ground. Angel laughed as his upper pair of hands had the gloved wrists in a tight grasp, while he let his second pair of arms grow out of his sides to ram the fallen knife blade-first into the ground. In the distance, he hears a generator pop into life - Kate was doing her part, one more to go. Good girl.

"Fuck, you... survivors are not supposed to fight back." the stranger growled, squirming under him.

"Dang it, I forgot - we oughta run from 'ya! And 'yer supposed to kill me, right? And yet, here we are, handsome."

Through the layers of ragged, black clothes and cloak, Angel could feel a tight, muscular but lean body - hot, but definetly normal. Not bulky like the trapper dude, not slimy like the running Melty-face or cold and eerie feeling like the Ding-Dong-Douche. As the figure under him bucked again, he could also feel something else that was entirely human and he had to surpress a laugh.

"Ohooooo, daddy, is that a dagger in 'ya pants or are 'yay just happy to finally meet me?"

With a hot fury the killer ripped his hands free, planting a fist directly into his fluffy chest with surprising force. With a breathy sound that was half cough and half wheeze, Angel's grip around the young man's waist weakened, enough for the cloaked man to throw him off. Angel could hear a rib break at the sudden punch to his side - motherfucker, that would be a bitch to heal after the trial. As he propped himself back on his arms, the cool, dirty steel of his own knife's blade touched his throat and forced his gaze upwards to meet the mask's holes.

"Enough with the goddamn nicknames. I'm fucking Ghostface, and you better remember that name as you'll scream it when I'm done with you."

Jesus, that new guy made it too easy for him.

"Mmmmh... Kinky."

Decades of whipping around poles and fucking every porn actor pride had to offer - twice - had one or two good things going for Angel. Bendy as he was, and with strong, long legs he had no problem to just pull one of them forward and ram the pointy heel of one of his overknee boots straight into Ghostface's balls, leaving his captor sputtering and writhing while Angel pushed backwards to stand upright. He sauntered towards the disoriented man, kicking the knife further out of reach and looked at him with both pity and amusement as the last generator went off, and the blaring sirens of an exit gate about to be opened echoed through the forest. Kate was near - too near for Angel's taste, but it had to do.

"A'ight, Ghost Daddy, that's my cue. Me and Katie are gonna fuck off, was fun though, 'ya might get the hang of the whole killer thing if 'ya keep practicing."

"We'll see about that, Angel-Cakes."

Angel-Cakes.

The name echoed in his head like a bad spell, a curse. Fucking Roo must've fed him that fucking pet name, these dreaded words that Valentino had always used, along with his intoxicating pheromone smoke that had left him dizzy and weak-willed too many times to count. Using the moment of his stunned stupor, Ghostface flipped around, getting up with a speed Angel didn't deem possible or had accounted for, and rammed his elbow into his face before he started running - not to go for his blade that laid aside about four feet away or the trembling Angel, but straight for the woods. Straight for the opening exit gate. Straight for Kate.

Angel's eyes widened as a dark, content thunder roared from above - that bitch. That stupid bitch and her fucking new toy.

With a dizzy head he ran after him, wheezing from the pain in his face and stomach. There was Kate, screaming as she saw Ghostface coming, charging at her, her knuckles white from the tight grip on the lever to the saving exit. He could see her legs tense and start to bend to take off and make a dash to flee, to maybe hide, and before he could think any further, Angel lunged forward, using a tree as leverage to throw himself forward and tackle the approaching killer to the ground. There were gloved hands and black fabric everywhere, furiously trying to get him off, entangling in his limbs and his fluff and his hair, but Angel didn't care. He knew now what Roo wanted - had wanted all along. He had played her game exactly how she had wanted him to play it without realizing - Surviving the trials and saving his own ass. Good deeds upset her.

"Don'tcha let go of that fucking lever, Kate!" Angel shouted, feeling his head pulled by his hair back into his neck. Ghostface punched, pulled and clawed at anything he could find of him, but Angel held onto the fighting frame - today would be the first day he'd die in a trial. And that was exactly what Angel wanted. The signature bell sound of the dooms clock went off as Angel heard the heavy gates slide open. In the mess of his wrestling with the cursing killer he caught a glimpse of Kate, her eyes fixated on him as she started to run towards him. Her expression, her eyes... they had almost the same look in them like Husk's when Roo had pulled him away. Determined to get to him. Desperate to help him.

"NO KATE, GO!" he screamed, and was awarded another painful punch into his face and his hair pulled even further, but he didn't let go, even when tears started to wet his face, and Ghostface's laugh mingled with Kate's distressed shouts and cries as he felt cold, hard steel piercing his side. "FUCKING GO! NOW, DAMN IT!"

The earth shook with Roo's anger as the girl, sobbing his name, ran back and bolted through the gates into the nothingness. Finally, Angel let go of the heavy breathing killer. A twist of the knife and his arms gave out, his head falling next to Ghostface's masked face, only a small pool of blood escaping his lips.

"God fucking damn it - Fucking idiot, you ruined it. FUCK! What a pathetic excuse for someone called 'Angel'." The killer ranted with panicked rage, pulling on the slipped and oddly twisted mask that only clung to half of his face to pull it off and throw it on the ground with a frustrated growl as he got off him. Deep brown hair clung on his forehead from sweat, framing dead eyes with dark circles under them. His face was handsome, maybe even pretty, with sharp angles and a strong, set jaw that was locked in anger.

"Anthony."

The clock rang again, and the ground was breaking apart into deep red’s and black's.

"What the fuck did you say?"

The man stared at him, knife still in his hand as Angel smiled a bloodstained grin.

"My name, asshole. S'Anthony... Angel's the name my fucking pimp got me. Just like your stupid-ass one." He managed to throw the offended looking man before him a grin. "Can't tell me 'ya gave yourself such a lame-as-fuck name."

"You're pathetic. She honored me with that name - it's nothing like with you and your... pimp."

Angel laughed as he reached down to him with his black gloves to throw him over his shoulder. He didn't resist, no use in that anyway with the wound in his side, even if he wantted to. But Roo's anger was electrifying the air around him, she was upset in more than just one way. Not only had Angel found a way to get under her skin and sour her game - but it seemed that she was especially angry about the way her newest toy had handled this trial, and him.

"'Ya just wait, Ghost Boy. With folks like her and Val, they always show their real face, sooner or later. And I have a feeling 'ya gonna see for 'yaself real soon." ***

Ghostface's face was stoic and emotionless as he threw the skinny man on the hook. The world she had created was already crumbling - he was just in time. Three out of four wasn't bad, he knew that. But it wasn't just that he missed the perfect four. If she hadn’t helped him, he would've failed even more than he had. He felt her anger, her fury bubbling beneath the realm she created. Gone was the soothing aura and the gentle caress of her invisible fingers on his cheeks. All he felt was hot gushes of wind and unseen sharp nails scratching on his arms and neck. And for the first time, he feared the punishment.

"Danny." He said quietly, watching as the survivor's grin widened before the lights behind his unusual, unsettling eyes slowly disappeared. "I was Danny once."

The last words of Angel - no, Anthony - echoed in his head as the entity's claws ripped into the white and pink flesh of his victtim, pulling him up and ttowards the swirling clouds and the black fog, hot and scorching instead of cool and calming, wrapped around him and Ghostface fell - Not into the familiar darkness, but into a sea of fire, smoke and unbearable pain.

[gabessquishytum]

Pardon me if this gets weird.

Boxer!Dream is getting up in years. He isn't old enough yet to retire, but he's slowing down. He isn't as fast anymore. When Burgess pays him over five mil to throw a fight, despite being undefeated currently, he can't say no. That's life changing money at stake! All it'll cost him is his pride.

The fight doesn't go as expected. He ends up accidentally killing the guy in the ring. It was so easy. One punch across the side of his temple was all it took.

But now he's pissed off the wrong mobster. He sneaks out the back, mercifully missing most of the mobsters who came bursting into his locker room.

He can't go back to his apartment. To do so would be suicide. He can't leave town just yet as the money is with his agent. If Lucienne knew where he was, then they could take her hostage or torture her. So he waits. He books a cheap hotel and waits for the heat to die down before collecting the money.

What he doesn't know is Roderick's already sent a soldier after him. A loyal capo known only as the Immortal, since he's performed over a dozen hits and has never been caught or killed yet. His friends call him Hob.

A few days after the fight, Dream is heading down to Lucienne's office to collect the money and his box office cut. It's too much money to lose and he needs it to escape the country. But unfortunately, Hob sees him going down the street and attacks him in broad daylight. They fight pretty aggressively until they stumble into the wrong shop.

Cori is a well-known associate of Lucifer. He's the muscle of their organization and has a long-standing grudge against Hob for stealing his contracts. He only knows Dream bc he's been spying on Burgess and knows the old man will pay handsomely for his head. So he breaks up the fight at gun point and kidnaps the both of them, leaving them tied to chairs in the shops basement. He calls a few associates.

Dream doesn't know what he's in for, but Hob does. He knows whatever that sick bastard has planned for them will not be pleasant. They only have one chance at this. They have to escape together.

However, Hob knows that once he returns without Dream in a body bag, he might as well put a gun to his own head. Burgess does not suffer fools lightly. So he proposes a deal. Dream takes Hob with him.

- 🤜 anon

OHHH enemies to lovers!! Hell yeah!! Hob might be tough (he is) but Dream has been fighting underground for most of his life, and Hob almost gets his ass handed to him. So at least he knows that Dream can more than hold his own. They might just be able to escape together, if they can stop kicking each other for half a minute.

They do break out of their ropes (it's at this point that Hob starts making bondage jokes, and Dream starts rolling his eyes). Dream has his fists and Hob has a very sharp little knife that Cori didnt manage to take off him, and via a lot of pushing and shoving and standing on each others shoulders, they climb out of the skylight and start running. There's no real plan, except getting the money and getting the hell out. They mutually decide that Hob should go to Lucienne for the money and bring her back with him. Mostly because he's got a better chance of defending her, but also because if anyone is watching the office then Dream will definitely be shot on sight. He gives Hob his ruby signet ring to show Lucienne, and heads to try and find a ride out of town.

Delirium agrees to give Dream a lift, and he waits with her anxiously in a parking garage. Apparently she also owns a gun, so at least they have that. Finally Lucienne and Hob show up, and Hob is gripping his side but everyone seems to be okay! Time to get the hell out of there!

And just on time too, because Cori and his associates are chasing them down. Delirium drives like a maniac, Lucienne is leaning out and shooting their pursuers and Dream is like "Hob, can you DO something?!" And Hob is like "give me a second, I kind of got shot back at the office!"

He'll be fine. Probably. They don't call him the Immortal for nothing. And he promised Dream that they'd have another fight, preferably in a proper ring next time. So he can't die.

Especially not when Dream is starting to look so pretty.

[isalisewrites]

Summer after the traumatic end of the Triwizard Tournament, instead of Harry Potter getting visions of the latest evil plot from the Dark Lord, it is Voldemort who gets visions of The-Boy-Who-Lived’s childhood.

And they’re not pleasant.

---

When Newt accepted to become one of Harry Potter's secret guard as a favor to Albus Dumbledore, he hadn't anticipated being faced with a choice concerning the welfare and safety of a child: obey Albus Dumbledore's orders or stay at Voldemort's side to protect Harry.

Though difficult, the right choice was clear.

------

FIVE EXCERPT:

How fucked up was it that Harry felt safer with Voldemort than he did with the Dursleys? Had he gone mad? This had to be madness.

And yet…

Voldemort didn’t like how he was being treated. It was so bad, according to Voldemort, that even he was concerned about Harry, enough to stop trying to kill him, enough to leave Harry healing potions. He’d had plenty of tries to kill him, but Harry was still alive—hell, he was doing better because of the man.

Harry curled in on himself, wrapping his arms around his chest in a hug and wishing it were real. He searched through the park to look for any sign of Voldemort. He stepped nearby, making noise, and had left the jar, so he had to still be here, somewhere.

He almost wished Voldemort would stop hiding. What if he sat on the swing next to Harry? What would he ask him? Would he prod about Harry’s home life more or would he talk about something else?

Why do I even want to talk to him?

“I’m outside of the wards,” said Harry in a low voice, hoping the man could hear him. “You could kidnap, kill me, torture me, but you’re giving me bruisewort balm instead. I don’t get you.”

Doesn’t make any sense.

“What’s so bad about my life?” whispered Harry. “It could be worse, yeah? I only have to stay here for a few months out of the year. The rest, I get to live at Hogwarts. It’s not so bad.”

A lie, but it was better to lie to himself than face reality.

There was no sign of life. Maybe Voldemort wasn’t around. Maybe Voldemort had gone home, wherever that was. Maybe he was just talking to himself. The sun was setting finally, which meant the time to face the music was getting closer and closer. He’d better get home before it got dark or there would be more hell to pay.

“I don’t want to go back,” whispered Harry.

Never again.

But there was nowhere to go.

A hand settled on his shoulder, warm and weighted. Harry froze, the hair rising on the back of his neck. The hand didn’t move. No words were spoken. Tears welled up in his eyes again, but he didn’t let them fall. Harry slowly turned his head towards the side, but he saw no hand there. Instead of panic and fear rushing through his veins, a calm spread throughout his body. Harry let out a low sigh.

The hand on his shoulder squeezed and disappeared.

Wait. Harry wanted it back—come back.

What the hell is wrong with me? This is Voldemort!

Dammit. This was too much—too much to process. Harry already lived on the edge of his sanity and control while living at the Dursleys. Anything could set them off. He had to constantly be careful about what he did and said around them. Even when he was obedient and submissive, he was still getting into trouble. 

He was tired—just tired.

Harry didn’t have the energy to wonder about Voldemort anymore.

Harry slowly stood up from the swing. “Guess I gotta get back,” he whispered. “Thanks again for the bruisewort balm.” 

He shoved his hands into his pockets and started the trek back to Number Four. He’d catch it worse if he were home after Dudley. He kicked a rock down the sidewalk, his thoughts in an uncontrollable whirl. He heard no other footsteps in the street, but he couldn’t help but wonder if Voldemort was following him.

Watching him.

Watching over him.

It helped, just a bit.

[eyelessjackspuppyshark]

LAUGHING JACK HEADCANONS? 👉👈

ᯓ ᡣ𐭩 YES! Okay so my Laughing Jack isn’t 100% planned out due to him not being a main muse. But I have quite a few head cannons!! These may be quite messy so bare with me! :3

‧˚₊꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶꒦꒷‧₊˚⊹

ᯓ ᡣ𐭩 Laughing Jack originated as a Angelic shapeshifter. He was made to be a “imaginary friend” to help sad and terminally children. Used to make children happy or enjoy their last moments. He was fairly weak during this period of time, feeding off the little emotions around him.

ᯓ ᡣ𐭩 Although due to being trapped in his box for years due to Isaac leaving he began loosing his colour due to his box feeding off Isaac’s mothers negativity. And eventually watching Isaac torture people he was corrupted. LJ lost his colour turning him monochrome, and his body began only feeding off the negativity and souls that were in the house. Due to this he was corrupted and ended up turning into a demonic creature instead of an angelic creature.

ᯓ ᡣ𐭩 Laughing Jack is a shapeshifter and has multiple different forms he takes. One of those forms being “Laughing Jill”, I personally headcanon them being the same person. He also will occasionally shift into child like versions of both of his forms, along with turning into animals for convenience. He’s Genderfluid!

ᯓ ᡣ𐭩 Laughing Jack doesn’t kill children. He doesn’t believe children deserve to suffer. Although he kidnaps children after killing their abusive parents. He typically takes the children and drops them off in completely different states, and sometimes different countries in hopes that they’ll have a better life. Sure it’s strange but he just wants to help children get better.

ᯓ ᡣ𐭩 Laughing Jacks box is what keeps him alive, it’s like his soul to him. He often keeps it safe with Sally whenever he’s not helping another child. He can morph it into different things as well. He turns it into a small necklace for Sally to wear, Sally also feeds off of the energy from the Box to have a physical form; so without LJs box she wouldn’t be able to touch anything. If his Box is broken he’ll die with it.

ᯓ ᡣ𐭩 Speaking of Sally. Laughing Jack adopted her almost immediately after they met. He felt bad for her due to her situation and promised he’d help and protect her. They’ve got a Father Daughter bound.

ᯓ ᡣ𐭩 The inside of Laughing Jacks box is like a huge carnival! It used to be colourful but unfortunately it lost all of its colour when he was corrupted. Although LJ is a Kleptomaniac and often steals things from his victims. He also has a compulsive hoarding addiction so his carnival is a mess.

ᯓ ᡣ𐭩 Laughing Jack claims to be Pansexual but in reality he isn’t really attracted to people. He often finds himself accepting dates just for convenience and too have fun. Never being fully interested in people. He’s too busy being a Dad to care about others

ᯓ ᡣ𐭩 Laughing Jack sees nearly everything in black and white, although he sees the colour red. He’s often fascinated by anything red and will gravitate towards it to check it out. Due to this Him and my OC ARK have a fairly confusing relationship. LJ with randomly touch his hair and he’ll panic.

ᯓ ᡣ𐭩 Laughing Jack often doesn’t understand personal space. He finds himself leaning against people and using them as shoulder rests. Or getting in their face without realizing.

ᯓ ᡣ𐭩 Laughing Jack can sense people’s emotions and will often make his body admit certain pheromones to cheer people up or to make them feel other emotions.

ᯓ ᡣ𐭩 Laughing Jack has a never ending pocket that he keeps candies and small toys in. Often handing them out to the people around him. If you need a fidget toy just ask him and he’ll give you one! He often will drug the insomniacs with melatonin candies just to get them to sleep.

ᯓ ᡣ𐭩 Laughing Jack is only at the mansion due to Sally enjoying it. If Sally wasn’t with him he would continue to do his own work alone.

ᯓ ᡣ𐭩 Laughing Jack can teleport, along with being telepathic. He knows almost everything and it’s scary.

ᯓ ᡣ𐭩 If Laughing Jack finds a love interest (although it’s very unlikely he would) he’d be obsessed with them and grow very clingy of them. He’d honestly do anything for his partner. Also he’s one loyal MF…

‧˚₊꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶꒦꒷‧₊˚⊹

[call-sign-shark]

Heaven in Your Eyes || Arthur Shelby x Reader!OC

Summary: Following the event of the kidnapping of his son, Thomas and the rest of the family learn you have killed a man. Confused and in a state of shock, the Shelbys debate whether or not they should accept you. But while they are debating, you are falling into a pit of anxiety. Now, it's Arthur's time to be there for you.

Words: 6K

TW: Light angst, canonical description of violence, mention of child abuse, smut, unprotected sex, mention of death and torture, trauma talk, fluff, hurt/comfort

Notes:

✞ Admittedly this part is longer than what I planned to do but it has plenty of essential moments and discussions. The next chapter wont be that long. As for the smut part, it is quite long too but it does have a purpose in the story. You can skip it if you want but you'll miss information.

✞ This chapter is complementary to the one-shot From Blood We'll Grow (but no need to read it)

✞ Heaven is OP's original character but written with the use of « you » (Moodboard here).

PREVIOUS || Masterlist || NEXT PART

Thomas Shelby was leaning against the kitchen counter, cigarette hanging in his lips and piercing blue eyes focused on the needle of the pocket watch he was holding in his hand. It would not be long before Arthur and John would come back, consequently he did his best to enjoy the precious quietness of the house before some family chaos. He put the watch back in the pocket of his vest and took a quick look at Polly, Ada, and Michael, who had no other choice but to wait with him. When Tommy demanded a family reunion, every one of them knew they better not missed it. The two women were sitting at the table, a smoking hot cup of tea in their hands. Polly’s dark irises were staring at an invisible spot on the wall in front of her as she lost herself in the meanders of her own thoughts. Contrary to her aunt, Ada could not stay still. She was nervously moving her leg, eyes shifting between her big brother, the clock on the wall, and her own hands.

“Where’s she?!” Arthur’s voice suddenly roared in the kitchen, alongside the loud bang the door made when he almost burst it open.

Here we go, Tommy thought even though his face remain placid. Knowing Charlie was safe at home had extinguished his anger.

“Is she okay?” John asked, sincerely worried for you. As time passed, he had grown fond of your presence more and more. He was out of breath for he had been running behind his oldest brother, trying to catch up with him. When he entered the kitchen, less than one minute after Arthur, he had leaned against one chair with his hands and tried his best not to spit his burning lungs out.

“Calm down, Arthur.” Tommy issued with a neutral voice, looking at Arthur’s face which was distorted with both worry and rage.

“Don’t fucking tell me what to do, Tom! Where the FOOK is she?” At first, Tommy thought his brother was just agitated, but when he saw Arthur coming at him with teeth bared and darkened eyes he understood it was not a simple tantrum. It was fury — the same fury that had pushed him to almost killed the man who had tried to murder Thomas at the horse race, to the point they had to choke him until he almost blacked out just to calm him. Tommy did not falter though and remained motionless.

Witnessing how enraged the oldest sibling was, Polly got up from her chair and grabbed him by the arm.

“She’s fine! I’ve taken care of her myself. She is fine.” Polly repeated louder, hoping her words would overcome her nephew’s terrifying fit. She had barely finished her sentence when Arthur turned his head to her in one vivid movement and growled like an animal. However, his facial expression relaxed a little despite his brows still furrowed and his eyes shooting bullets at everyone he was looking at. Anger was boiling in his veins, fueling his heart that was pumping to the rhythm of his growing anxiety. Breath hitching, teeth still slightly bared, Polly knew his nephew could snap at any moment. She knew he was like a jerrican of gasoline, whose slightest spark could turn into a destructive wildfire, “Arthur, please. She needs you lucid,” She paused and gently tightened her hands around his arm, “She just needs you.”

Arthur closed his eyes for a few seconds and inhaled. The gulp of fresh air managed to set his ideas straight — or was it simply because your well-being was more significant than anything else in the world? When he reopened his lids, he gathered all his strength to remain in control of his wild spirit. Another growl escaped from his lips.

“Where is she ?” These were the only words he could utter. Polly took a quick glance at Tommy and sighed. The whole family knew that Arthur, as stubborn as a dog refusing to give its stick, would not let it go. He would remain deaf to any of their explanations as long as he was not informed where his angel was.

“I’ve brought her to your house. I’ve helped her clean the blood from her skin. She was curled up in your bed when I left. See? She’s at home, safe and sound.”

“Hm.” He mumbled with his jaw clenched, right before starting to pace back and forth in the room like a caged lion under Tommy’s undisrupted eyes. The latter cleared his voice to get everyone’s attention.

“I want to know what happened in every detail. Michael?” Tommy’s voice was collected. So controlled and cold his breath almost turned the whole room into a castle of ice and frost. Michael shook his head. The latest events were still stuck on replay in his troubled mind: the sensation of Hughes's skin against his hands made him nauseous each time he thought about it. Even though he took the life of the monster who had robbed him of his innocence, the threatening shadow of the priest still floated above him, waiting for Michael to fall asleep to fill his nightmare with unspeakable and excruciating memories. Hughes was gone, but the wounds were still there, vey much opened. He lowered his head, unable to bear the weight of the family’s eyes staring at him.

“I’ve killed Hughes,” He started his left hand nervously scratching the back of his right one until his skin turned red, “I wanted to grab Charles and bring him home but he was not in there. That’s when I heard a kid screaming and a big thud. When I entered the other room Heaven was—“ He stopped, for he felt the burn of the ravaging fire that was blazing in Arthur’s eyes. The unspoken threat was clear enough for him to understand: he better be careful with the next words that were about to come from his mouth if he did not want the beast to tear him apart.

“She was?” Tommy’s authoritative and slightly impatient tone captured his attention again.

“She was covered with blood, Charles in her arms. She had killed the man who wanted to hurt your son by stabbing him with a pair of scissors. If Heaven had not been there, Hughes’ colleague would have shot me and Charlie down. I saw a gun a few inches from the corpse.”

No one dared to speak now that the facts had been spit, leaving no doubt on your implication in the whole mission. Tommy brought his hands to his face and rubbed it in an attempt to process all the information he had just learned. A part of him could not believe it: how could you so easily kill a man who was almost twice your height and weight? After all, you were such a frail and small creature he had trouble imagining you going feral and butchering someone with the sole strength of your tiny hands. Yet, he knew about the dead you left on your trail when you left France. Five men, his informants told him. Five men were found dead in the forest surrounding the village. The authorities who had reported the crime called it “inhumane”. When Tommy read the case file, his jaw almost dropped at the description of the bodies — these men had not only been murdered, they had been hunted down like animals. While he first doubt the veracity of the reports, today’s events made him realize they were not exaggerated. You were dangerous. As dangerous as unpredictable. And Tommy hated what he could not predict nor control.

“Heaven… killed him?” Arthur asked, thus breaking the silence. He had frozen, turned to an ice statue by Michael’s words. He could not believe it either. How could you, his sweet and holy angel, do such a thing? He swallowed, left utterly speechless and confused.

“She did!” Michael insisted when he saw the doubt on Arthur’s face. Then, he turned to Tommy once again, “I’d be fucking dead if she hadn’t been there. And Charles too.”

Tommy let out a loud sigh and pinched the bridge of his nose, trying to kill his dawning headache.

“There was so much blood on her Tommy.”

So much blood, Arthur thought. His mind drifted away from the conversation as he tried to recreate the scene in his head. He imagined you, entering the office bathed in the pale moonlight, crimson ink bringing a frightening touch of color to your snow-white hair and skin. It felt surreal — and exciting.

“I’ve told you she was a fucking curse but no one listened to me. What am I supposed to do for people to fucking listen to me eh? Hear me Arthur?” Tommy’s chilling gaze looked upon his oldest brother.

“You know what? Fuck you, Tom. I’m done.” Arthur’s gruff voice was underlined with an unexpected and astounding calm. He had reached his breaking point, “What are ye gonna do now, eh? Wait, lemme guess. You’re gonna come at me and stand with your bossy demeanor, telling me I need to leave me angel because she’s some kind of psychotic freak to you. Then you’re gonna pat my back and tell me to forget her and that I’ll find a better woman. Maybe buy me a whore. Yes, that sounds like Tommy Shelby.” Arthur shook his head, a sarcastic chuckle coming from his lips, “You tried to make me suspect her, eh. Can't fucking believe it.” He chuckled again, far more nervously this time. “Wanna pull everyone down in your fall, that's what you want. If you can’t be happy no one around you shall be, right?“

“You don’t seem to realize what she did. And she told me to keep an eye on my son. Everyone would have suspected her.” Tommy retorted, blizzard coating his words.

“But she saved him.” Everyone turned to Polly, whose remark caused Thomas Shelby to grit his teeth. The unpleasant truth felt like nails scratching a board. Except the board was his own bones and the nails his Aunt’s words.

“She risked her own life to save your son even though you had insulted her.”

“Polly, I do like her. But I understand Tommy. She killed someone. You get it? This is not a trivial way to resolve a problem.” Ada intervened, her fingers tapping the varnished wood of the table.

“That’s what we always do, Ada. That’s what I did too.” Polly spoke with indisputable sorrow in her voice, “Whether you like it or not this company’s license is written in blood, and its foundations are made with dead bodies. We are all standing on an empire of silent hearts and maimed flesh.” A fresh nightly breeze went through the open window, caressing Polly’s face and making her short curly hair dance in the wind. The power of her soliloquy tamed Ada’s fierce spirit, “Arthur and John have been killing for this family for years. I murdered Campbell. Regarding Michael — Michael put Hughes down. And you, Tommy, when did you lose count of the men you put to sleep?”

“Fucking right.” Arthur mumbled.

Thomas looked at his aunt with a neutral face, the only detail that betrayed him was the spark of interest shining in his piercing blue eyes.

“Think ‘bout it Tommy. She foresaw Charles’ abduction. And when her powers reached her limits, she had not been afraid to dive her own hands in shit to help us. Don’t you think she has proven her loyalty to this family?”

“She isn’t loyal to us, she is to Arthur.” He corrected.

“It makes little to no difference,” Arthur responded, rolling his eyes.

“Alright, then.” Tommy cut them all off, clapping his hands to close the debate. He had heard enough, “Since we all have different opinions about Arthur’s angel — the sarcasm in his voice was undeniable — we’re going to vote. Arthur?”

“A vote? ‘Bout me bloody life decisions? Go to Hell, Tom!” He roared in response, driven crazy by the fact you were all alone at home, aching and terrified, and that he was not here for you, “She’s the woman I’ll marry. The other half of my soul. You can go all fook off if you don’t accept her in the family.”

“Predictable. Ada?”

“I don’t know. She had been quite extreme and Finn is scared of her. “

“Gonna take this for a negative answer along with Finn’s opinion. I already know Esme’s thoughts on the topic so there are three people opposed to her joining this family and one rooting for it. John?”

John remained silent for a while, his sky-blue eyes staring at Tommy with palpable irritation, “How can you all even discuss the topic? She has done more to take care of Arthur than anyone here in this room.” He walked to his oldest brother and put one hand on his shoulder as a sign of support, “I like her, and she deserves a place in this fucking family, even though she'll soon understand she ain't the curse but this family name is.”

“Michael?” Tommy went on, unmoved.

“I did not really care until now. Don’t really trust the girl but she saved me so… “

“I’ll take that as a yes. And Polly?”

“I know I haven’t been easy with her but it was because I could not sense her intentions. I was afraid she would bring evil forces upon us but she has the gift of healing. My grandmother used to have it, you know, and it runs only through the veins of exceptionally gifted witches. She could be useful, you know. We could benefits from her powers. And tonight…” She took a deep breath, “She saved my son.” The way to a mother’s heart often was her children, and Polly Gray was no exception.

“Three against four. Seems like this whole debate is over, Tom. Now I think I’ve been patient enough with your bullshit. Stop wasting my time while my place is beside her.” Arthur took one last look at his family, fury blazing in his eyes, and left the house, making the whole building shake when he slammed the door close.

“Heaven!”

When Arthur stormed into your bedroom, he was welcomed with the sight of your quivering silhouette standing in front of the window and hugging itself. It felt like a stab in his heart as he was reminded that you had to face the latest events all alone. Worst than this, one of the last things he had expressed to you was a slight doubt about your involvement in Charles’ kidnapping. He had not only been absent, he had also been awful, and God knew how ashamed it made him feel.

“Are you okay?” It did not take more than one second for Arthur to rush toward you and cup your face between his large hands, “Fookin’ hell, angel I’m so so sorry!”

You did not reply but instead stared at his guilty blue eyes with an unfathomable expression on your face. Your silence convinced him you were mad at him.

“They told me what happened and — “

Arthur could not finish his sentence, for your small and cold fists grabbed him by his shirt and pulled him in a ferocious kiss. Your lips crashed against his like a rogue wave breaking on the shore and destroying everything in his path.

You pulled away from the kiss, leaving his mouth hanging a few inches from yours.

Arthur, running out of breath, did not move except for his steel blue eyes that looked down at your body. You were wearing nothing but his white shirt adorned with stripes. The garment covered you down your thighs for it was far too large for your tiny being. “Christ,” He whispered to himself, struck by how the vision of you wearing his shirt as only clothes turned him on. His whiskey breath melted with yours, almost intoxicating you in the process as if you had drunk the whole bottle by yourself. But it was not alcohol that was making your head spin, but the instant relief the eldest Shelby gave you by his sole presence. Arthur’s tongue grazed your swollen lips with its tip, desperately hungry for more. He had been waiting to come back to you for countless hours, your face haunting his mind even when he had sent men to Hell in one big explosion. “Kiss me again, please.” He said in a soft but slightly impatient voice. He needed you to kiss him again. He needed to feel you did not hate him for doubting, nor for not having been there to protect you.

But you did not bless him with a second kiss despite the undeniable supplications in his fair eyes and the caress his feverish sighs left on your skin. You stood still, your irises firmly anchored in his for what seemed to be an eternity. Your lips remained sealed but one crystal tear rolled down your cheek.

“Hey. I’m here, love. I'm so sorry for everything you had to do…” Arthur said softly when he noticed you were crying.

No reply came from your tantalizing mouth. You kept staring at him, battling against the flood of emotions that was invading you now that your mind slowly but surely came to realize what happened last night. The blood — there had been so much blood.

“Heaven, talk to me.” He pressed one of his hands on your cheek, the cold silver of his rings alleviating your panic. And then it happened. You snapped out of your torpor all of a sudden and pushed him onto the bed. Arthur’s body fell on the soft mattress, leaving him both speechless and surprised by such unexpected reaction. Eyes wide opened, lips parted, he wondered what would you do such a thing. Did you — reject him?

“I need to forget this awful night.” Your voice was merely a whisper, but the power your words held shook him to his very soul. It was not anger nor resentment that coated your tone but lust. Without shifting your eyes from him, you brought your hands to the large shirt you were wearing and undid the first button, “I have to get it out of my goddamn head.” The way your French accent melted on your words like butter got him all fuzzy and weak.

“You sure, love?” He asked still surprised, taking a deep inhale through his nostrils.

“You have to erase it from my mind.” Your sentence broke up his core.

Arthur bit the flesh of his lower lip in anticipation as he understood what you wanted from him. Somehow, he got it: the blood, the adrenaline, the thrill of the kill… You had to find a way to release the tension. That was what he did with you in the shower last time he bashed someone’s head with his bare fists. Not only he got it, but he was ready to be your cure. His pale irises devoured your silhouette, desire burning within as you started to strip in front of him. You popped the second button with your frail fingers — and he flickered like a candle flame. Arthur’s fists closed on the bedsheet as frustration grew stronger at your languorous movements… And yet, that was the most exquisite form of torture he had ever experienced. He grunted, almost like an animal. If he had genuinely enjoyed the sight of you wearing his shirt, all he wanted now was to tear that bloody thing off you and exposed your naked body for him to see. When you finally popped the last button, a shiver of desire ran down his spine as if someone had just brushed him with the sharp tip of a knife.

The shirt was now open, showcasing more of your appetizing porcelain flesh. With one languid gesture, you let it fall on the floor and disclosed your whole being to Arthur’s starving eyes. The way the pale light of the sun coming through the window’s blinds drew patterns on your silky skin captivated him.

“Oh fuck — love,” His gruff voice said, carried away with a moan. The sensual sight made his whole body react, to the point he was now feeling far too tight in his trousers, and that was getting uncomfortable. Usually, he would not have waited so long for touching you, but today he could not help but admire your wildness. Petrified by a far too eery arousal, Arthur had the impression invisible ropes were wrapped around his body and pinned him to the mattress. He could not move and barely breathe. All he was able to do was to watch you with complete fascination. What stirred such a dizzying and strong effect was not only your angelic beauty, but also the dangerous energy that was radiating off you. This, combined with the few dried blood stains that were still adorning your skin from here and there left him feral. You stepped towards the bed, your hips swinging to the rhythm of your graceful walk. Arthur, hypnotized, swallowed the lump in his throat, his mouth dry and his heart racing in his chest. You hopped on the mattress and straddled him. How could such a tiny creature like you hold so much power? He thought. Hell, he could have broken your frail bones so easily with his own hands but here you were, riding him. You. The sweet angel he had met at church.

But you had a twisted something.

And it made him fall even harder.

A twisted something Linda never had nor understood.

Arthur inhaled sharply and growled, realizing you had literally taken his breath away.

“I want you. ” You said with teary eyes.

“So what are you waiting for, love?” His words managed to reach his mouth despite the awe you instilled in him. As he said so, your hands boldly began to explore his chest. The friction of your palms and his shirt’s fabric against his skin unleashed a wave of warmth within. Arthur shivered and watched you, still enraptured, while he let you take control of him. To hell with Tommy’s doubts and the family’s fear, you could pull his strings he would not mind as long as you belonged to him. After you had opened his shirt and exposed his chest, scattered with millions of freckles you often liked to kiss, your fingers made their way down his boiling skin and left frost in their wake. Another gruff moan — you were giving him fever.

Once you reached his waist, you took his suspenders off and threw them somewhere in the bedroom. Arthur replied to your boldness by grabbing your hips with his large and calloused hands — scarred from murder — and by giving them a bruising squeeze. That simple touch, combined with the feeling of his hard shaft pressing between your legs, sent surges of electricity through your entire being.

“Let your man take care of you, eh,” The gravel in his voice made your cheeks burn. He wiped your golden tears with his thumb— as beautiful as they were, he just hated to see them on your pretty face. Somehow, Arthur was well aware he was a high-maintenance man and he could not thank you enough for everything you were doing for him. How many times Linda had told him he wasn’t worth her help? He wasn’t worth saving? He had lost count after a while, but you never did. Unable to wait any longer for your bodies to unite, he then unbuckled his belt and unzipped his trousers, those noises bringing goosebumps all over your skin, “there, love.” He softly uttered before pulling his pants down just enough to free his erection. You moved your hips in response, guiding his cock between your wet folds without further ado. Welcomed by your wet warmth, he let out a long sigh of pure delight. Nothing could have prepared him to the all-consuming, almost suffocating desire you stirred in him. Sometimes he wondered if you had cast a spell on him, for no other woman had such an irresistible effect upon him. Each time you touched him, even for the simplest and most innocent interaction, desire and love hit him like a bullet.

“Arthur…” You sighed, as he started to roll his hips under you and push against your entrance with the glistening head of his cock. It was too much for him to wait anymore: all he wanted now was to dive into your flesh and conquer the wild territory of your soul. You gritted your teeth, almost hissing with excitation at the hurricane of sensations that was tearing you apart. You could not wait either, because he was the one who could fill the void. That excruciating and gaping void, as painful as a sucking wound, that had first opened a few years ago when you killed these five men. Oh, don’t get it wrong, they deserved it as much as the priest, but it had left you empty since then— so empty it hurt. But Arthur found you one night, and everything changed. You were his savior, but he was your cure.

“Look at me, Heaven. “ He said, his tone candy-coated with tenderness, for you had lowered your gaze ashamed of your tears. You obeyed and dared to look, your aquamarine eyes shining like precious stones. “The first night you saw me killed a man you told me I was pretty with blood all over my face. I could not fookin’ believe it,” He left his sentence hanging and pushed inside you, his thick cock stretching your walls. You moaned, throwing your head back and closing your eyes at the delightful mix of pain and pleasure.

“Arthur!” You whined, a louder lament escaping from your quivering lips, “I— I remember… ” You managed to answer between two sighs. Speaking became a real struggle as he worked you open, causing heat to pool in your abdomen and blood to rush to your pale cheeks. Arthur gave another thrust, and another, until your hips met and every last inch of his cock was buried deep inside you. Fire spread within his soul and yours when you finally made one — like you were meant to be. “Arthur!�� You repeated in a desperate cry, glistening love juice dripping from your pussy as he started with a quick pace from the get-go. You took a sudden deep breath and opened your eyes wide as if you had suddenly come back to life — because that was the kind of effect he had on you: he made you feel alive. With each push and pull of his cock, he fogged your mind and let you forget all the bad memories.

“F-Fuck!“ Sucking in a sharp breath, he shattered at the way you chanted his name. Head spinning, heart drumming, Arthur could not help but enjoy your beauty — How magnificent you were with your back arching and blissed out. “Well, I see you right now, and lemme tell you…” He panted, forced to make short pauses between his words to let out hoarse growls of pleasure, “You don’t look pretty,” He straightened back up to sit on the edge of the bed and wrapped your waist with his long arms while his hips kept fucking you in a rough pace. The corner of his lips curled in a fierce grin now that he could watch the emotions on your face from far closer, “You look divine with blood stains all over you and my dick deep inside that tight holy pussy of yours.” His words, carried by the gravel of his voice, chased away the sorrow and brought a smile to your swollen lips. As a reply, you kissed him with hunger. Dancing tongues left him breathless, “And now I’m gonna fuck away the pain and fill you with something else than sadness…” He whispered against your mouth before abandoning it only to lay a myriad of enamored kisses on your throat. The way his mustache tickled your skin only strengthened the coiling tension that had formed a knot in your stomach. “Tonight, I’m the one who saves you, angel.”

His thrusts grew faster and rougher as he spoke. To the point you were now bouncing on his lap, the sound of snapping flesh echoing in the whole bedroom alongside your erratic breath, his hoarse moans, and your enchanting cries of pleasure. You felt full and he did his best to keep you so. In fact, he barely pulled his hips back — rather wanting to remain as deep as he could in your oh-so tight pussy, “You’re a good girl, yes you are. The prettiest little murderous thing ever created eh. The fookin’ perfection …” He purred in your neck, and each of his praises made your very soul quiver. His pace soon became frenzied, for he could barely contain himself at the delightful feeling of your fragile walls pulsing all around his cock and the way you almost growled like an animal when he left small bites on your skin. Pleasure was escalating, rattling your bones so violently your nails dug into the freckled skin of his back. Little crimson drops of blood beaded from the kitten scratches your nails left in their wake. The pleasant pain caused him to give you one meaner thrust in response along with a snarl — Fuck, he liked it. His cock twitched inside you, feeling climax building. Clenching his jaws, Arthur reopened his eyes he had closed a few seconds, backed up a little bit from your neck, and stared at you. Yes, he wanted to watch you. His steel blue eyes burnt with a gleam of madness and blazing love, “You’re so fookin’ beautiful eh. Me little angel. Me future wife.” The spectacle of you bouncing on his lap, covered with a thin layer of sweat glistening on your porcelain skin, and your wild ivory mane all messed up was the most magnificent view he had ever seen. Arthur dived one last time inside of you, all the muscles of his body tensing, and he fell apart. He spilled himself in your pussy with a long raspy moan, his half-closed eyes staring at you during his whole orgasm.

“Please don’t stop, don’t stop!” You yelled.

“Such a hungry little angel, eh. Yell louder.” He teased, still high from his little death. His hips jerked, and he released another rope of thick cum, “Come for your Arthur.”

The sensation of his warm semen filling you was the end of you. Your pleasure finally reached its peak as well. Your thighs trembled on either side of Arthur as his hips slowly roll to accompany your climax. Almost blacking out because of the intensity of your orgasm, you let out one final scream and collapsed in his arms, your body limp. Arthur’s hands gently stroked your back. You hugged him tighter in reply, your breasts crushed against his chest, and stars still dancing behind your eyelids. Locked up in a tight embrace, you were both catching your breath and savoring this moment of pure tenderness. How long did you stay here, firmly gripping each other, sweaty and panting, as if your life depended on it? None of you could tell, for you had both lost the notion of time. After a while, Arthur’s back fell on the mattress again and he pulled you with him. You put your head on his chest, closed your eyes, and smiled.

“Feels better, love?” He inquired, concerned about your well-being. His long fingers grazed your back in a lovely caress. Despite you having both come, Arthur stayed deep inside you for he just loved the sensation of your two bodies making one in the most intimate way possible.

“Definitely… “ You sighed in relief, lulled by his presence under, around, and inside you.

“You know, “ He started, “Maybe you would feel even better if you talked to me about that troubled past of yours. We’ve been together for a while so you know I won’t judge, eh.”

You crossed your arms on his chest and raised your head a little to plunge your eyes into his, “Nosey little gangster.”

“Little? Fook me, yer the little one here.” He teased, one brow raised, “You tiny brat.”

You stuck your tongue out as a reply, which made him laugh. Yeah, you were definitely the brattiest angel God ever created.

“I’ll let you keep my shirt if ya tell me. Sounds like a deal, eh?”

“Deal. You’ve won.” You replied, "I like your shirt too much to say no," Truth be told, what motivated you was not really the shirt itself but the fact you were done bearing the weight of your past all alone. In addition, Arthur had always been completely sincere with you from the day you met. He had been true about his demons, his fear, his flaws. About everything. You definitely owed him the truth, “ Alright… I was living a happy little life in the French Alps when Hughes came.” Your smile vanished from your face at the simple mention of his name, as if you had bitten into a pill of cyanide, “He replaced the town’s priest for a few months. We thought it wouldn’t make much difference but we were wrong. No one saw it coming you know? His words were so smooth that almost everyone was hanging onto his sermons. He was the one who spread the rumors witches were hidden among us. And weeks after weeks, the whole town slipped into insanity. Superstition and fear drove them all to accuse friends, family, or neighbors of concerting with the Devil.” You paused and swallowed the lump in your throat.

Arthur gently slipped one of your ivory strands of hair behind your ear, listening to you carefully.

“Five men came into our home one night, and they assaulted my mom, my dad, and my little sister who was sleeping in their bed. It’s true my mom was a witch, but she used her power to heal the ill and the wounded. No one knew the extent of her abilities, they just believed she was a brilliant herbalist… I was in my own bedroom when it happened so the noise woke me up. I wanted to help them but what could a thirteen years old girl could do against all those strong men?” You bit your lip.

“Take your time, love.” Arthur’s fingers lose themselves in your hair in a tender sign of affection and support.

“I escaped by my bedroom’s windows and hid in a bush. They were looking for me, calling me awful names and… Laughing. Yeah, they laughed as if they were having a fucking hunting party, except I was the bloody prey.” You clenched your jaw and frowned, hatred burning in your sanctified eyes, “They took my family away. I followed them discreetly, in hopes of helping them to escape. But I couldn't.” Fighting against your tears, you buried your face in Arthur’s neck. His arms tightened around your frail body in response. He wanted you to know he was there, “They’ve hung my dad. And they sent many women including, my mom and my sister, to the pyre. She was eight. She was just a fucking kid, Arthur.”

“Bloody hell…” Words were at loss at such awful revelations. He hugged you tighter in a reflex, his instincts wanting to protect that poor frightened little girl who was still crying somewhere in your mind. The little girl who never had a chance to heal.

“I still hear her screams at night. So full of agony that it was hard to believe they came from a human being. Her screams haunt me, along with villagers' chants around the bonfires,"

"Their chants?"

"Burn witch, burn witch, burn." You whispered, shaking like a leaf.

“How did you manage to escape?” His gruff and comforting voice asked. You snuggled a bit more in his arms in response.

“I knew the woods by heart. I walked for days to the village that was at the foot of the mountains and knocked on the first door I saw. An old woman used to live there. She took care of me. But as I grew up, I could not heal from that terrifying night. My mind kept replaying the screams, the laughter, and the chants, to the point it almost drove me crazy. I had to do something to soothe the anger that was burning within. So I waited and waited until the time to avenge my family came. I tracked down the five men that broke into our house and took my family. I hunted them like animals for weeks, instilling fear in them, as they did when they were looking for me. And when they finally died, I left France and tried to build a new life here, in Birmingham. Regarding the rest of the story, I think you already know it. I fell for a gangster and here I am. In your arms.”

“Which is exactly where you belong” He corrected. One of Arthur's hand grabbed your chin and gently forced you to look at him, “I am so sorry, love. So fookin’ sorry. But don’t feel bad for the men you killed… They deserved it — just like Hughes and his colleague. An eye of an eye,” His lips kissed your head with indescribable sweetness, “I’ll never let anyone hurt you again eh. God forgive but I’ll make this city fucking bleed if someone dares to lay a finger upon you ever again,” His other hand stroke the curve of your hips, “I know no one will replace nor bring back your family. But… You have me,” He said awkwardly. As he did, he very lightly rolled his hips under you, causing you to sigh with pleasure for you had kept him warm and loved between your legs during the whole conversation. “You have me for-fucking-ever. And I’ll do my best to heal the pain and save you from your demons.”

You smiled at him, utterly touched by what he had just said. His promise was like a soothing balm on the gaping wound of your heart, “Am I not the one supposed to save you? ”

“We save each other, love.” He whispered, his lips collapsing with yours in a kiss filled with unspoken promises and undying love.

“I love you.” You mumbled between two eager kisses, barely finishing your sentence when Arthur’s lips captured yours again.

“Not as much as I do, love” He mumbled against the corner of your mouth, his mustache grazing your cheek when he did, because he refused to stop devouring your lips even for one second. The whisky taste of his tongue intoxicated you, making you so dizzy you did not understand how he flipped you on your back. Nor how you ended up gently pinned to the bed, the weight of his body on top of you. But it did not matter. All that mattered was the moment. The soft moans and sloppy kisses. The creaking bed and the endless sighs. You made love again— but this time it was more slow and sensual than earlier.

And late at night, when you finally fell asleep in his loving arms, you did not hear the screams anymore. Nor the evil laughter lurking in the shadows. Quite the contrary, you dozed off with a smile on your face and shooting stars filling your head, lulled by the soothing rhythm of Arthur’s heartbeat. His fire was the only one you would let consume you skin to bones.

He was the gasoline.

You were the match.

And if you both burnt,

The whole world would burn with you.

✞ gif by the talented @alicent-targaryen

✞ Any comment, review, reblog, or constructive criticism is welcome. Your reactions really motivate me and keep me alive, so please don't be shy. English is not my first language.

✞ Normally, each chapter of this series can be read as stand-alone but not this one. It's far more enjoyable if you have read at least the previous chapter.

Tag: @meowtastick @babayaga67 @sired-to-hybridrid @shelbyssins @kxnnxyasdfg @adaydreamaway08 @theshelbyclan @jomarch-wannabe @esposadomd @zablife