#yeah maybe high fantasy has been done to death but i still like it

[eskumii]

yandere!incel!tomura shigaraki + foreigner!darling who can't speak japanese

TITLE: " RENT-A-GF " — navi.

NOTES: nsfw (18+ only) below the cut (non-con!! somnophilia!!) reminder: this is merely fantasy, i don't condone. will prob proofread someday lol. enjoy!

PAIRING: yandere!incel!shigaraki tomura x foreinger!reader

GENRE/AU: shigaraki is rlly misogynistic and delusional, age gap (you're older), reader is a substitute english teacher who got kidnapped by bwad gwuys and is now... yeah

CHARACTERS: shigaraki tomura (21), reader (24)

let's be for real: shigaraki was born to be an incel.

and incel!shigaraki is shamelessly self-aware of this, indeed. when he's not out terrorizing innocent citizens with his villainous coups, he takes to the internet to fulfill his insatiable need for an adrenaline rush. gorey video games and brutal death metal makes him light up in glee, but sometimes it's just not enough.

so, instead, he's a frequent on the dark web, diligently scouring sites that specialize in obscure female porn collectives that cater to his twisted kinks. incel!shigaraki glowers at the pictures of stupid, slutty women who prance around in sexy lingerie, but still gets a hard-on because he wishes he had a woman who would do that for him and him only.

and what shigaraki wants, he gets. on another sweaty night in his dark bedroom, he's boredly clicking through the hundreds of entries of women who are being sold for, what he thinks, too high of a price. not that money would ever be a problem for him; if he felt compelled to, he could just kidnap the girl he wanted all over again. so, no, it's not the price—it's what he thinks they're worth based on his attraction to them.

and, so far, all of them are worthless.

you see, the conundrum is that incel!shigaraki has a thing for foreign girls. don't ask why, he doesn't know. maybe he finds it cute that they're so clueless about his culture and language, and he's the one who'll control the narrative that rules their ignorance. maybe it's so cute how they wear their perpetual confusion on their face at all times, like a bratty kid who can't navigate the world without mommy or daddy by their side.

of course, though, women could hardly do anything on their own anyway. every time he came across one they'd wail and cry as he grabbed them by the hair and threatened to kill them if they didn't shut the hell up. they'd beg for their lives or scream for someone to save them, but it would only piss him off more at how useless and brainless they tended to be. he just couldn't help but decay them—they were so noisy and whiny, it wasn't his fault.

obviously, shigaraki has neither patience nor experience with women. in fact, he can probably count with two fingers how many times he's had a non-violent interaction with a woman in his entire lifetime. the mere thought of this drives his insecurities to the brink of rage, but it's not his fault women are so unbelievably tasteless in their choice of men. it's their fault he has to go to such lengths to find a decent woman worthy of his presence.

but imagine his delight when he happens upon a listing of you, an immediately attractive foreign woman who used to be an english substitute teacher of all things. he clicks through your pictures with a renewed vigor, his interest piqued as he studies your unique features. eagerly, he scours through your posted information and it turns out that you happen to be exactly the kind of woman he's looking for.

it's a done deal. the transaction takes less than a few minutes and incel!shigaraki couldn't be more pleased with how smoothly it went. he'll have to leave a good review later on, when and if the woman he's just bought has satisfied him.

it takes just one night before shigaraki finds you literally dropped off at his doorstep like an amazon prime package. you’ve clearly been pampered with the way you’re clad in a skimpy maid outfit; your nails, hair, and makeup are all dolled to perfection. you look exactly like you did in the pictures.

and clearly you're wise beyond your years. you don't speak much because of the obvious language barrier, but you do seem to understand a bit of elementary japanese. shigaraki is delighted by your small mutterings of broken japanese—it’s unbelievably cute. sometimes he'll force you to speak in japanese just because he loves watching you struggle with your limited vocabulary.

incel!shigaraki gets attached to you. you're very attractive in his eyes, and he's completely ecstatic that you're all his. a woman he can do whatever he wants with, and no one would dare question him. the immense power trip sends him over the edge.

that being said, the first couple of weeks are still rather... awkward. you're not happy about being in the situation you're in, but you're smart enough to keep that to yourself. you don't fuss when shigaraki orders you to fetch him liquor or tidy up his filthy room, nor do you complain when he commands you to cuddle with him or keep him company while he plays video games.

"[name], c'mere," he'd bark at you, eyes still glued to the tv screen.

"be a good girl and keep my lap warm, hm?"

he'll force you to wear cute lingerie sets like he's seen the women on porn sites do. somehow you look so much better though, and it feels as though you're teasing him with the way you bend over so much while cleaning. the outline of your pussy through the small fabric that stretches over it has him horny in a matter of seconds. you're such a tease, aren't you ashamed? you just can't seem to stay in line.

however, despite all your obvious sexual innuendos towards him, shigaraki gets no relief. he's resorted to jacking off whenever you go to sleep but no matter how hard or how much he cums, there's an itch that can't be scratched with masturbation alone. and the way you're so shy around him is adorable, sure, but your little playing-hard-to-get act wasn't cutting it anymore.

the remedy? incel!shigaraki starts slipping sleeping pills into your food and drinks.

and it doesn't take long for shigaraki to develop a routine of visiting you while you're sleeping. partly to check up on you and assure himself of your presence, but mostly to creep around the edges of the bed and feel you up. you sleep so soundly that you don't even twitch when he fondles your soft breasts or runs his spindly fingers over your curves.

he almost doesn't want to disturb you; you look so peaceful, totally different than the frightened little faces you muster when you're awake. but the bothersome tightness stretching his boxers taut against its stitches makes it hard to resist his urges. anyway, you're simply doing the only thing a woman is good for: using your body to please him.

his breath is hot and heavy, laced with lust and selfish perversion as he defiles you to get himself off. some nights he just sits and admires your beauty, caressing your face with clumsy, inexperienced fingertips. some nights your shirt is pulled up so he can marvel at how nicely your breasts sit in whatever color bra he forced you to wear.

other nights his cock is nestled between them, thrusting like his life depends on it, chasing that euphoric high he gets when he finally spills his seed across your hardening nipples. and other nights shigaraki is even more daring—cute pajama pants and panties below your knees, face buried between your thighs as he explores every inch of your sweet cunt. he knows it's wrong, but so what? he's a villian, that's what makes it feel so right.

when you make faces in your sleep, he's filled with so much genuine affection—it's almost as if you're telling him he's doing a good job. you love it, don't you? he so desperately wants to hear you cry his name in that precious accent of yours and run your hands through his hair as you lavish your praise upon him for making you cream so many times.

he can't keep his eyes off you. so soft and compliant. you're so pretty while he's stuffing his cock into you and relentlessly flicking your little clit, not stopping even when he feels you clench around him like a vice as you orgasm over and over. not stopping even though you're drooling all over the linen sheets and he's came twice already.

"that's right... y-you gonna cum again? you gonna—ngh—cum all over my cock, you dumb whore?"

shigaraki watches with glassy, intrigued eyes as you squirm ever so slightly, face warped into one of undeniable pleasure as he ravages your gushing pussy. you're such a good girl for him, letting him use you as he wishes.

you're the woman he's chosen to give his virginity to. he's so happy and content that when he cums inside of you for the third time, he doesn't pull out. instead, shigaraki gently maneuvers your body so he can spoon you from behind, whispering tender "i love you's" as if he knows what that means. absently grinding his hips because your warmth is so comforting around his sticky, softening dick.

as much as shigaraki wants to stay and pound you into the mattress all night, the sleeping medication doesn't last forever. not to mention the mess you've made; the sheets are completely ruined and your clothes are strewn about on the floor, long forgotten. it's hot in your room and it stinks of his cum and sweat, but it doesn't really matter. the only thing on his mind is you and how he'll ruin you again tomorrow night.

for now, though, he rewards you for being so good by cleaning you up, smirking whenever you unconsciously nuzzle up to his touch. when your clothes are back on, he plants a tender kiss on your forehead and admires your flushed face from the shadows of your bedside. when the sun begins to rise and you stir in your ignorance, he'll sneak out and act as if nothing ever happened.

incel!shigaraki who doesn't deny that you're just another stupid slutty woman, but you're the only woman he'll ever want to cum inside of. when he returns to his room, he remembers to pull up your archived listing on his computer and dazedly taps away at his keyboard.

"10/10 recommend"

[dutchdread]

A small rant

I've noticed that a lot of places that discuss the LTD are less focussed on analyzing and explaining final fantasy VII, and more focussed on throwing insults at either the characters, or the people who support them. I think I've done a fairly good job at making sure this place stays relatively matter-of-fact, and despite believing that "Cloti" is the only interpretation of the story that makes sense I am usually pretty positive about Aerith as a person, and more importantly, as a character. My stance tends to be that the only version of Aerith I think is fundamentally unlikable is the one presented by Cleriths. So permit me to slightly backtrack on that as I ask:

Am I the only one getting sick of Aeriths character?

And I don't mean "the only Cloti supporter who is sick of Aerith", I mean isn't the general fanbase of the game getting sick of her?

I ask this because I was watching the new Rebirth trailer, and I couldn't help but roll my eyes during the scenes where Aerith sings, or where it tries to survival-bait the viewer. In FFVII Aeriths death plays only a small part in the grand scheme of things. It neither prevents nor causes holy, holy was summoned before she died and is actually held back by the will of Sephiroth, which is the bulk of the external plot. And it doesn't cause Clouds mental break, which was an inevitable outcome of his history with Tifa, Sephiroth, and Nibleheim.

So why does the trailer make it feel like Final Fantasy VII is the story of Aeriths potential death? I thought the point of Aeriths death was that it comes suddenly and unexpectedly, without a large fan-fare, leaving nothing but a hole in its wake. I thought the point was to show a death that wasn't like "in hollywood". So why does her death now get it's own musical accompaniment and stage play?

Aerith was once a normal girl with a big destiny, one that she was as unsure of as any of us, she was just a person, just like us, with maybe a hint of something more. She got angry, she could be petty, she could be clueless. In another words, she was human.

But what is she now?

Aerith is now Jesus and Mary all in one. Fans got so upset at her death that Square-enix felt the need to include her in everything and every time Aerith became a bit less human, and a bit more idolized, until in remake she became a walking, talking, deus ex machina. In advent children she was presented as almost angelic, giving guidance to lost souls both good and bad and healing the children. But it was still ok because most of it was centered around Clouds psyche. The problem isn't with Aeriths death having importance to Cloud. The problem is square-enix trying to milk Aeriths death for all it's worth, making it into a soulless spectacle.

Aeriths death is now the horror monster that loses its terror once you see it. It's everywhere and everything has to revolve around it and because of it it's no longer a good story, but cheap emotional manipulation.

Within the remake Aerith is no longer the playful and innocent GIRL she once was. She's Gandalf the white, come back from the dead to pass down quests and wisdom from up on high. Step aside Cloud, this is Aeriths story, all you other side-characters are only here for back-up. Aerith is now a self-insert fan-fiction character. She has no flaws, everyone loves her, her death is more important than those of other people, the universe, time, and destiny will all bend to make sure the Mary-godessue doesn't die. Because everything has to revolve around her you know? So yeah, of course Aerith can sing! Who cares that there was never before any indication of this. Sure, Tifa will probably get to play the piano, but here is the thing….Tifa being able to play the piano has actually always been a part of the game! Since when is Aerith suddenly a broadway performer? Probably since the same time that she became a picasso at random wall art.

Years of fan obsession have deified away everything that once made Aerith interesting. The grand story of Final Fantasy VII, the quest to save the planet, and the internal heroes journey about accepting the past and the true self. Clouds backstory and struggles, it's all overshadowed by the once irrelevant plotpoint of "will Aerith die?".

Like with Sephiroth, fan obsession has caused square-enix to destroy all sense of mystery, magic, and restraint in order to "give fans what they want", even if it ruins the product.

While I think the cheap spectacle of hyper focussing the marketing and potentially early game around Aeriths death have already essentially poisoned the remake, making it into a mere shadow of what it could have been, I still believe that Square-enix has enough integrity left to actually kill her and move focus back on what actually matters. But I have to say, at this point it's not even just because I want the story of FFVII to be protected and experienced as it should be. But also because I am just getting sick and tired of what Aerith has become, and would now consider Sephiroth stabbing her as a mercy killing for what's left of her character.

[augory]

and here’s the mid/late act 2 update. As a warning, much discussion of actual plot stuff. Also long lol.

Lucanis’ fade quest was so bad. I’m such a sucker for “entering the mind of a person” type of fantasy plots because they typically are filled with nuclear-level cathartic revelations. But this was so clumsy and had no emotion. Just a nothing burger of an otherwise good idea.

It bears repeating but the combat is fun and clearly so well balanced. The number of times I’ve been like “shit this is harder than I thought. I gotta focus.” or, in the last big moments of a boss fight, genuinely thought I wasn’t going to make it, only to rewardingly eek through. Clearly by design and well done.

The number of 3 minute davrin “quests” are killing me. I wouldn’t mind if everyone had an equal number of low-key quests, but it seems like davrin is always hitting me up to feed apples to his horse for 5 minutes on our veilguard lunch break

The romances…. Where to begin. This game is chaste beyond belief. I’m not asking, or even want (given BioWare’s history of kinda jank romance animation) anything elaborate. But this feels bizarrely sanitized compared to contemporary titles or even its franchise predecessors.

I romanced Emmrich as a mourn watcher and have found it overall narratively fun. I can’t get enough the haunted mansion “spooky fun” shit, I admit. I will say, it’s not very… dragon age… in tone. But I am having fun so who cares.

The emmrich plotline is good. I need to sleep on it, but overall I think it’s the best in the game because the end decision is hard and has impact. I still don’t know if I made the right choice, and it’s killing me. I think that’s the hallmark of a good, tough BioWare decision.

Lich emmrich is sooooo dos2 Fane. Absolutely no way BioWare didn’t have fane’s picture pinned to their vision board. Anyway, as a fane fan, I’m not complaining.

I will say, I don’t think making emmrich a lich is the best for the romance arc. I’m doing it, but I think it’s not going to be super narratively fulfilling. I guess we’ll see but.. yeah.

The reason the emmrich arc is good because it’s probably the best “grey morality” decision BioWare has done in a bit. Putting manfred aside, the lich path is basically a cop out for emmrich and his fear of death, even if he does technically “die” in the ritual. But then again… he does die, and is much better for it. I think the game does a good job making this a toughie.

Also lmao emmrich lich does look sick as hell.

I love neve, but her plotline villain is so unmemorable. they all deserve a Johanna-level villain counterpart. Illario is also kind of boring I’m sorry

Bellara… more than ever I feel you are Merrill reboot. I like you so much, but I cannot disentangle my bitterness that Merrill is not in the game as a cameo. (It’s because Merrill would unfuck so many plot points…. )

I like all the titan and Harding plotlines. Good and interesting, no notes

I have a lot of opinions on taash, which are basically impossible to articulate. Their identity, and relationship with their mother hits very close to home. I don’t like hearing people say their dialogue/arc is hamfisted, because I’ve lived those conversations word for word. I think it’s really great that my exact lived experienced now exists, immortalized in a fantasy video game. But it’s also really weird to watch and not… fun. For me personally.

I’m not really sure if maybe this is a first playthrough thing, but it seems like companion bond is really uneven. Like I barely take Harding anywhere because her bond is always so high comparatively, but it feels like I’m always dragging taash everywhere for approval

here’s a big long read more of all my veilguard thoughts that I’m just going to update periodically. spoilers ahead 🫡

20 hours:

It’s a good game! I’m having tons of fun with the combat especially and love I can respec for free. I’m seeing so much negativity on here and I’m not sure I get it. Obviously not everything is perfect, but overall a perfectly good time

It’s extremely funny they made solas have way more chemistry with rook than lavellan. sometimes things that are a little antagonistic are hotter!

Locking me out of side quests on the Treviso/minrathous decision without warning pissed me off soooo bad. I was racing to get all the companions and was going to go back and do companion quests and now I missed out. Biggest complaint so far

Some of the abilities are just loud and bright and don’t have the dramatic weight of some spells in prior games. So far nothing feels as good as like conjuring a blizzard or fist of the maker, etc

Taash I was unfamiliar with your game…. Unexpectedly one of my fave companions

I feel like I spend 80% of my time obsessively breaking crates and I wish I wasnt… but it’s objectively not a waste of time technically so I can’t stop. I wish they hadn’t implemented this loot mechanic tbh

I don’t think the dialogue is bad but I get why people aren’t enjoying it. It’s very very polished and can sometimes feel a little inorganic. This is why I really like taash I think

Laughed out loud when I realized the gift giving cutscenes were literally just the companion saying “thanks” and then done

I can’t believe I can’t dye armor in this game. Crazy oversight

I like bellara but like. We have Merrill at home… (this was not my first impression but as time went on there are so many eerie narrative similarities she feels like a soft reboot of my girl)

Mae looked so good, and Dorian was fine. Isabela….. no comment

The heavy incorporation of your background into so many interactions is powerful! Really good stuff there

25 hours

The characterization on assan and davrin is so funny. Like, they really gave the grey warden a narrative you’d find in a horse girl movie lmao

I feel like these maps are more confusing and overwhelming than any open world map could ever hope to be

That said, I am enjoying doing the side quests and whatnot more than expected. Usually just the right size and length to be fun without overstaying their welcome

I also think the exploration puzzles are generally well done. Not hard enough to be frustrating (usually) but enough to make you feel a small sense of accomplishment for completing them. They are fairly repetitive though

I really like that you can increase your bond with companions just by taking them on missions. That feels very natural to me

Am I supposed to care about any of these recurring faction NPCs lol

I got my specialization and those spells seem to have more of the “heft” I was looking for in terms of feeling cool/powerful to cast

[naomibnova]

hey so like. what ttrpgs are out there that are dnd-like but "narrative focused" gameplay

im talking magic high fantasy, picking classes and class builds, magic, magic items, dungeons and stuff. feels like every recommendation for a new ttrpg is something incredibly not that at all.

[house-of-slayterr]

Riddle Me This…

For: @howl-fantasies

Maggie’s POV:

I got off work at the floral shop early today. Someone got shot across the street so the boss closed up early.

“Blossom, these flowers were supposed to be picked up today, turns out the guy who got shot was the guy who bought them. You want them?” My boss asked.

“Oh yikes. And sure I guess, I do love Lilies!”

“We’ll you did make the bouquet so I figured I’d offer it to you first. A young girl like you probably has a special someone to give these too.”

I chuckled.

“Stay safe out there… I need you to pay my checks” I joked.

My boss rolled his eyes.

“Just lock up before you leave kid.”

It had been just over a month since I started working here. I did take note of the black eye my boss had when he hired me. I was surprised when he had no I’ll will toward me. He simply said “you’ve got guys kid, that’s needed in a town like this.”

I smiled into the flowers, taking in their scent. I grabbed my stuff and Locked up shop, heading down to the GCPD. I found myself spending more and more time there, and Y/N was convinced it was due to my crush on Jim. I denied it of course. I enjoyed spending time with a few people who worked their, and it was much better than my time spent with Ivy, or worse, alone.

I walked through the front door and was greeted by a few cops near the entrance. I smiled at each of them and looked up stairs to notice Jim and Harvey arguing like an old married couple. I rolled my eyes. Harvey met my eyes and I waved up at him with my flower bouquet in hand. I chuckled when I realised what I’d done, before rushing up the stairs to greet the two.

“Are those flowers for me sweetheart?” Harvey joked.

I rolled my eyes.

“Knock yourself out!”

I shoved them into his chest. Jim gave me a weird look.

“Guy who bought them died before he could pick them up. Didn’t want them to go to waste.”

“You sound so nonchalant about it.”

“Jim, you should know as well as I do, you get sued to death in this town.”

He placed a hand on my shoulder before going back to his desk. I frowned at the interaction. We’d known each other for almost 3 months now and we still hadn’t progressed past interactions like this. We did occasionally flirt, but that was my personality. I’m pretty sure everyone but him knew that when I flirted with him, it was real. I sighed. I sat down on the corner of Harvey’s desk, knowing he wouldn’t mind. Jim always said it was “unprofessional”

“Rough day at work?” He chuckled.

“Yeah, flowers were talking back to me, had to put them in their place.” I joked.

“Starting to sound like Ivy.” Jim commented.

My fave visibly paled but I tried to hide it. I crossed and uncrossed my legs on Harvey’s desk. I thought of ways to change the subject.

“So how are things with you and Lee?”

I didn’t really want to know the answer, but you know what they say, curiosity killed the cat.

“There aren’t “things” between Lee and I. We had a fling last summer, that was it.”

“You sure about that? Cause I see the way you two look at each other.”

“Positive.” He grit his teeth.

I smirked at his reaction. He was being honest, maybe Lee still had feeling for him, but he was mostly over her.

“We’ll in that case, you wouldn’t mind if I asked you to coffee?”

“Maggie, you bring us coffee all the time.” Jim explained.

“Worlds greatest detective people?” I said in a show boat voice.

Harvey chuckled and gave me a pat on the shoulder. It felt more natural when he did it.

“I’ve got a reservation at the new restaurant in town with my girl tonight. But she just texted that she can’t make it. Why don’t you two kids go instead?”

I gave him a high five, best wingman ever!

“Yes, why don’t we?” I asked Jim.

“Can’t, have work.”

I frowned.

“Work will still be here tomorrow Jim.” Harvey offered.

Before we could bicker any further Ed approached. I’d seen him around a few times, the two of us sharing a few fleeting smiles, but I’d never really seen him up close before. I had to admit, he was pretty handsome in his lab coat. He talked to Jim for a moment about the case before he turned to me.

“You bury me when I’m alive, and dig me up when I die. What am I?” He asked excitedly.

“Stop bothering the nice woman you creep, go tell someone else you nonsensical riddles.” Harvey growled.

I watched as Ed’s shoulder dropped and he muttered a sorry before scurrying off in the direction of Lee’s work area. My frown only deepened.

“What the hell Harvey! Don’t be such a dick! He was just trying to start a conversation.” I scolded.

“That guys is bad news Maggie. Trust me, he’s weird.”

I hopped off his desk, plucking a flower form the arrangement I’d given him.

“Yeah, well so am I.”

I stormed off after Ed, annoyed at Jim for ignoring my advances, and annoyed at Harvey for being a grumpy old bastard. Why were men such hassles? I slipped my way into the morgue and spotted Ed pacing in the corner. He seemed to be muttering something to himself, which most people would find unsettling, but it was kind of adorable.

“A flower.” I spoke.

I cringed when he jumped.

“What?”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you.” I walked closer to him, showing I wasn’t a threat. “The answer to your riddle, it was a flower right?”

I handed him the flower. He looked at me in butter bewilderment. When he didn’t take it, I frowned yet again. He seemed so broken, and unsure of himself. I’d have to fix that. I took another step forward, cornering him against the morgue table. I gentle placed the flower into his shirt pocket.

“As a child you have many, But over time only a few hold steady. The ones who hold fast and true, You can call upon out of the blue. Together for years, We have shared laughter and tears. Side by side or miles apart, We will always be connected in heart. You are to me, but to you What am I?” I asked.

“You- you like riddles?” Ed asked.

I simply nodded with a chuckle. He pretended to think for a second before answering.

“A friend.” He concluded.

“You seem like you’re in the market for one of those.” I reasoned.

“I heard what you said to Harvey, thanks for trying.”

“You don’t have to thank me Edward, you didn’t deserve that. Is he really always like that?” I sighed.

“ unfortunately.”

“Ugh, and I can’t believe I kissed that guy.”

I groaned. Harvey was still my friend, and I’d have to work on his attitude towards Ed. But I was still upset about Jim’s rejection. I thought I was getting somewhere with him.

“You kissed Harvey?” Ed nearly shouted.

I sushed him, throwing my hand over his mouth.

“Wake the dead, why don’t you!” I dropped my hand. “And yes, it’s- it’s complicated.”

“I can understand that. My last girlfriend thought I was creepy before we got together. Her boyfriend before that didn’t treat her very nicely, guess she wasn’t used to people sticking up for her.” He explained.

“Hmmm, sounds familiar.”

I playfully pushed his arm.

“Quick question” i interrupted. He signalled for me to continue. “What are you doing in the morgue? Dressed in Lee’s apron…”

His eyes widened in fear.

“Oh, I- I have permission to be down here. Helps me think.” He stuttered out.

“We’ll, then I should leave you to think. Nice talking to you Ed.”

I leaned up and gave him a quick kiss on the cheek.

“Your last girlfriend was an idiot if she didn’t like you.”

I left the room, ascending the stairs. When I didn’t see Jim at his desk, I thought I might be able to avoid him. I tried to sneak out the front door but I was cut off.

“You really shouldn’t be alone with Nygma.” Jim said.

I scoffed.

“And you think you get to tell me who I can hang out with because?”

He sighed.

“He’s- he’s not well, and he’s dangerous. I just haven’t been able to prove it yet.” He explained.

I looked down at Jim’s hand wrapped around my bicep. Normally I’d relish at the touch, but I was tried of his teasing.

“I think I need to go.” I exclaimed.

“Look, I’m sorry about earlier if it seemed like I didn’t want to go out-“

“Just drop it Jim, ok. You’re not over Lee, I get it. Come find me when you’re done being the peoples Jim Gordon.”

I ripped my arm from his hand and pushed past him to the front door. I ran all the way back to my apartment and slammed the door, throwing myself down on the couch. Why did emotions have to be so hard? I pulled out my phone to text Y/N.

Maggie:

Why do mean suck?

My phone dinged not a moment later.

Guardian:

Need me to shoot him? I’m sure the boss won’t mind. 😈

Maggie:

No… no. If anyones gonna shoot that idiot it’s gonna be me. I just- I don’t know what I’m doing wrong.

Guardian:

Hang on a sec…

*Guardian added Mr. Smith to the chat* (Mr. and Mrs. smith reference)

Mr. Smith:

Awww trouble in paradise?

Maggie:

I will break your fucking knee caps Vickey

Mr. Smith:

Meow, when did the kitten grow claws?

Guardian:

When Jim Gordon apparently stomped on her fragile little heart. Wanna help me teach him a lesson?

Mr. Smith:

For you, sweetness, anything 😏

Maggie:

Flirting right in front of me, really? Ouch…

Mr. Smith

Sorry Kitten, Mommy and Daddy where just having a moment.

I rolled my eyes.

Maggie:

Just, don’t do anything I wouldn’t ok. I kind a need him alive to keep being mad at him.

Guardian:

Rodger that! See you soon Doll, Vic and I will bring the ice cream.

I shuttered at that nickname, but I knew better than to tell y/n what to do. I valued my life too much to tell her not to call me that.

Mr. Smith:

I’ll bring the throwing knives and my favorite candid photos I took of Jim when I stalked him a few months back.

Maggie:

…

I don’t wanna know. But thanks guys, really appreciate it.

Guardian:

You better not be crying when we get there, I don’t do tears.

Maggie:

Rodger that!

I mimicked their text from earlier. For a pair of assassins they really did know how to make a girl feel better. I groaned into the couch before picking myself up and cleaning off my face in the bathroom mirror. I threw in something more comfortable, pulling out my copies of Saw so I could watch it with my two favourite Psychos.

An: Zsasz and his girl have officially adopted Maggie, she’s an honorary Zsasz at this point. Jim’s gonna be in for the time of his life after the stunt he pulled today.



[santigarcia]

Knockout Blues

a 1940s mob au blue jones x f!reader fic~ 

word count: 8k

rating: m/e - for smut, canon typical violence for sucker punch and mob movies, some slight non con, themes of a abuse and a major character death - pls only read if you are 18+!

summary: You’re hired by the mob to sing at a nightclub, and you fall in love with the devilishly handsome nightclub host~

a/n: this one has been in my drafts for a long time, i’ve worked so hard on it!! i hope you all enjoy it!! thank you to @sergeantkane​ for this header!!! 

The nightclub Knockout Blues is lively tonight. You walk inside arm in arm with your boyfriend Sam Miller. You’re greeted with the smell of smoke and alcohol and strong perfume. There’s a bar along the back wall. The floor is full of round tables with chairs. The stage is on the far right of the entrance. Waitresses are buzzing about, men in fine suits sit at tables as they drink. Scantily clad women dance on the stage, fringe dangling from their breasts and hips, as large feather fans tease the audience.

It was much quieter when you came in earlier this week to audition.

You’re a singer, and the owner of this club expressed interest in hiring you.

You know this club is a front for the mob. Your boyfriend Sam is one of them. You don’t know what it is that he does, but it scares you. You want to end things with him, but you’re too scared to leave. You aren’t sure what would happen to you if you were left to fend for yourself.

You can’t worry about that tonight though. Tonight is your first show.

You part ways with Sam to head backstage. He gives you a sloppy kiss and a smack to your ass on his way to the bar. A nearby patron smirks at you. You can only scoff. Your dreams of being a famous singer will not be ruined. You are determined. You might have to suffer some bad gigs before you’re able to move up the chain.

Tiptoeing backstage, you see a whole other world. Costumes, make-up, wigs, props of all kinds are scattered about. Performers are getting ready, women powdering their noses. You can faintly hear the cheering from the small audience, the sound is drowned out from the bustle back here.

There’s a man in a silky white coat kissing one of the dancers, his hand is grasping her ass and stroking up her thigh. You try not to stare, though you’re not exactly shocked – just intrigued. This isn’t what you were anticipating.

Wandering around like a lost child, you freeze when you see a door with your name scrawled on a piece of paper taped to it. The door is slightly ajar, and you nudge it open. You turn on the light switch revealing a small vanity with a mirror surrounded by lightbulbs. There’s a rack of clothes with a single red sparkly dress on it. There’s also a schedule taped to the mirror with your name circled on each date you’re to perform for the rest of the month.

“You have twenty minutes,” someone with a clipboard pokes in your room and tells you. You’d only just realized you didn’t close the door behind you.

You lock it, and frantically begin to undress and change into this dress. It’s a perfect fit and flattering to your figure. But it’s a little more revealing than you’d prefer.

There’s a light switch on the wall by the mirror and this turns on the bulbs, you flick it on and get one last look at yourself before you are to go on stage.

The same person with the clipboard bangs on your door and tells you to follow them. The dancers who were on stage earlier brush past you on your way up front. You stand on the side now, looking on stage.

The same man who was kissing one of the dancers is speaking, he’s making the crowd laugh. Then you hear your name from his lips. He’s announcing your performance. Nerves shoot down to your toes, and you’re not so gently nudged onto the stage. The man walks with more swagger than you’ve ever seen past you, he gives you a little wink when you make eye contact. His slicked-back black hair, thin mustache and gorgeous smile have you dizzy for a moment before you realize there’s an audience staring at you.

Some men whistle as you step forward to the microphone. When you nod the band begins to play, and you begin to sing.

The spotlight on you is just a little too bright for you to see out in the audience, you can only make out shapes of patrons at tables. There’s a thick layer of smoke high in the air also hindering your view.

You let your voice carry and it’s a release. Release from the stressors and fears. All apprehensions about taking this job are forgotten in this moment.

Maybe this won’t be so bad after all.

The setlist you’ve been given is short, with a promise of more songs the longer you’re here. You are content with this – a couple songs for your first night at this club isn’t bad at all. In fact, you’re quite proud.

There’s a spring in your step when you head back to your dressing room. You’re all smiles, proud of a good performance. The bustle backstage doesn’t bother you as you breeze into your room.

It’s there you’re met with a shock. The man from before, with the thin mustache and white silk coat. He’s sitting in the chair in front of the vanity, smoothing his eyebrow down as he looks in the mirror. He makes eye contact with you in the reflection. His eyes are dark, but then a genuine kind smile flashes across his face.

“Hey, sugar. That was a hell of a show!” He stands, spinning to face you. He straightens his tie and practically glides over to you. He’s quick to take your hand in his and he plants a kiss to the back of your hand. His eyes flick up to yours, and he grins devilishly at the shy look in your eyes.

“Thank you,” you manage to get out.

“I’m Blue. Blue Jones.”

“You’re the owner?” The double meaning of the word owner is not lost on him, but he shakes his head no with a smile.

“No, no, that’s not me. Demetrius Fontana is the owner, I’m what you’d call a ‘figurehead.’ They call me ‘Blue’ because I’m the host of the show here at Knockout Blues,” he said as if he’s said this speech a thousand times.

“Have you met him? Mr. Fontana?”

“Boss? Course I have. He’s the one who hired me, sugar. He hired you too.”

“Did he?” You don’t remember meeting any mob bosses at your audition.

“Tall guy? Quiet? Scar under his eye? He wouldn’t have spoken. Only smoked a cigar at one of the tables.”

You nod, you remember seeing this man. It fills you with a nauseous feeling.

“Don’t worry,” Blue smiles, reaching to touch your arm, seeing your obvious discomfort. “He must have liked ya or else he wouldn’t’ have hired you.”

You don’t know if that’s better or worse. Somehow you get the feeling it’s too late. You can’t back out now. Dating Sam is one thing, you don’t want to anymore. But this? One of New York’s most powerful and feared men knows your name.

“Should I be scared?” you whisper. You don’t know why you’re asking him this, but he seems to know all the ins and outs of this place.

“Nah. Just don’t piss ‘em off,” he winks. “You’ll probably owe him a favor though.”

“Favor?”

“Yeah. A favor.” He says it so casually, but you don’t like the sound of it. “You didn’t think you got this job just because of your talent, did you? I mean you are damn good and gorgeous. But sugar, when these people do something for you, they expect a little something back.”

If you weren’t filled with dread already, now you really feel sick. You can only imagine what your favor would be.

“So, do I need to take you home or call you a cab?” Blue keeps on talking, as if nothing he’s said is worth fearing.

“Oh, my boyfriend is going to take me home.”

Blue nods, “well it was nice to meet you sugar. I look forward to working with you.” Another little wink.

A tune is on his lips, he whistles as he leaves your dressing room. Then he’s gone.

It’s not long before Sam comes to pick you up. You’ve had time to change into your regular clothes. He comes in drunk and lipstick smudged on his mouth and shirt collar. Another woman’s perfume is heavy in the air.

“Did you even see my show?” you ask.

He must think about it as if he can’t remember. He pushes you out the door and into the hallway. You hit the wall with a grunt. Down the hallway you see Blue with another dancer. The last one was a red head; this one was brunette. But he stops kissing her when he hears you.

“There a problem?” he calls down to you and Sam. The woman is kissing his neck while his hands rub up and down her back. His eyes are checking to see you’re ok.

“No,” Sam snarls, angry that Blue is interfering. “Come on,” he yanks your arm and pulls you down the hall past Blue and the brunette dancer. She’s still kissing his neck, and her knee is sliding up Blue’s inner thigh. Blue looks at you over this girl and gives you yet another wink.

It makes your face warm. His charm and charisma are enough that you’re already looking forward to coming in again despite any apprehensions you might have about favors from the mob.

When Sam fucks you that night, you wish it were Blue. You think about those hands and his eyes. Maybe it’s a foolish fantasy. But fantasy or not – you’re already developing a very real crush on Blue Jones of Knockout Blues.

Weeks pass and your crush on Blue is growing. It’s become quite the infatuation. He’s always pleasant when he sees you, and his touch gives you a thrill. Maybe it’s the idea that you shouldn’t, or that he’s nicer to you than your actual boyfriend.

So, your Blue crush keeps you eager to come back. You come early to the shows now to catch him sing. He’s always the opening act.

And the more time you spend at the club, the less scary it feels.

You’ve even met the…owner. Briefly. He was at the bar one evening. You’d just finished a performance and you stuck around to get a drink. He gave you a nod and bought your drink before he left. You’ll take that as a compliment.

You spend more time here at the club than you thought. Your evenings are busy with performances, but even after you’re done you hang around. In the afternoons you stop by for the occasional rehearsal.

You’re always on the look out for Blue, and he’s always around. Always with perfect hair and an easy smile. You’ve become friends of sorts, he’s always friendly. But you can’t help but want more. You can only assume he doesn’t flirt with you because of who your boyfriend is, which makes you want to break things off with him even more.

At least you have some interactions with Blue.

Tonight, he pops into your dressing room while you’re finishing your makeup.

“You ready for tonight?” He asks picking up your tube of lipstick. He pops the cap and rotates the stick in and out.

“Blue,” you smile at him. “I need that.”

“May I?” he grins.

“Okay,” you shrug casually, but inside your heart is pounding.

With his thumb and forefinger pressing on your jaw, he tilts your head back and opens your mouth in one movement. With his other hand, he sweeps the red lipstick across your lips. Then he reaches in his silk coat and pulls out a handkerchief. He cleans the residue of the lipstick from the corners of your mouth. He folds the small piece of fabric and tucks it back in his pocket.

“It’ll stain!” You gasp, still flustered from how close he was to you just moments ago.

“It’s a souvenir,” he clicks his tongue with a wink. He stops then and his eyes linger on your lips.

“What is it?” you turn with a furrowed brow to look in the mirror.

“I’d love to kiss those lips sugar.” He stays, standing behind you. He’s looking at your lips now in the mirror, then he leans down to whisper in your ear. “I know you want me too.”

“Blue, I can’t!” You stand up to move away from him. “Sam…”

“What about him? He doesn’t treat you right. Let me take care of you.”

“I can’t. He- won’t let me.”

“Let you?”

“I have to finish getting ready Blue. Did you need something?” You sniffle, trying not to smudge your fresh makeup.

“I wanted to ask you; would you sing a duet with me tonight? I know we haven’t practiced but I’d love to sing with you sugar. I’ll pick a song you know.”

“Really?” you look at him, your sad eyes turning bright. “I’d love to!”

“I’ll see you on stage in a few then?” His hand cups your elbow gently, his fingers leaving a heat on your skin.

Then quick as a wink, he’s out of the room whistling cheerfully. He’s always in a good mood, and it’s infectious.

Can this be happening? Are you about to sing with him? You fell deeper in love when you heard him sing. Now to be on stage with him? Seeing his stage presence up close? Your tongue feels numb.

Buzzing, you finish getting ready and dart down the hall to wait your turn. When Blue announces your name, it feels more personal this time. He’s looking right at you when he says it. The way he’s looking at you right now sends a shiver down your spine, it’s carnal.

He offers his hand, and you walk on stage happily, your game face on. Your eyes and small are bright, and the spectators cheer when they see you, you’re a new favorite.

The song begins, and thankfully it is one you know well. You’ve not even practiced with him, but the rawness that comes from it works. He holds you close and twirls you around. It’s an intimate dance, your bodies and voices intertwine as if you’d be lovers for years.

His smile is devilish, and he holds you so close you shiver. There’s a heat of excitement blooming between your legs, especially when his hand rounds your ass for a squeeze.

The song ends too quickly for your liking – but before you can even turn to exit the stage, Blue pulls you to him. He dips you down low and plants a searing kiss on your lips. His tongue delves between your lips, and his mustache tickles your upper lip. Those watching seem to cheer even louder, and when he straightens you back upright, you feel dizzy. The lights and sounds are all a blur. You can only see Blue and that wicked grin.

He lingers on stage to announce the next part of the show, while you float back to your room. You don’t even remember walking in there. Your heart feels like it could pound right out of your chest. You dance, you dance in circles around the room. You wish you could bottle up this happiness.

A knock on the door pulls you from your daydream, and with a grin you turn. Expecting to see Blue. Only you don’t see Blue – it’s your boyfriend Sam. You can smell the alcohol on him from where you stand.

“Sam, I-“

“Nice show tonight. You been practicing that?”

“No. Sam-“ he takes a step closer to you and you back away, there’s an anger in his eyes. The anger burns, and with a backhanded swing his hand hits your cheek. The skin stings and you feel blood trickle down, a small cut left behind from his ring.

He leans back to punch you this time, but you duck out of the way. His fist crashes into the mirror, breaking it, the shards fall with a loud crash.

The sound brings unwanted attention, and in moments you see Blue. Fontana is behind him. When Sam sees who is standing in the doorway, he backs off. He ducks out of the room without an apology, but you’re glad he’s gone.

Blue is at your side in an instant. Fontana is quiet, he gives you another nod when he sees Blue is with you.

“Are you alright?” Blue looks over your face, shushing you when you fall into his arms.

“Get me out of here,” you sob into his shoulder.

Blue wraps his arms around you, shielding you from prying eyes as you exit the backstage door. You leave in such a hurry that you forget your change of clothes. There’s a chill in the alley, and your sparkly red show dress does nothing to keep you warm. Blue shrugs his silk coat and wraps it around your shoulders.

“Come on, sugar. I know where we can go.”

You don’t walk far before you’re at the large hotel near the nightclub. You never even dreamed of staying here it’s too expensive. But Blue walks right in. Several people say hi to him, and it’s the first time you realize how popular his performances are – and how many connections to the mob there are.

He doesn’t even stop at the front desk; he guides you over to an elevator and presses a button. He presses the button to the top floor as if it’s nothing, but he’s puffing out his chest a little – he’s proud.

“The top floor?”

“Fontana suggested it,” Blue shrugs.

“What kind of favor did you do to get this?” you ask with wide eyes.

“I hope you’re not afraid of me,” he looks at you, his eyes softening. You know he must have done something big to get a suite on the top floor, but you do trust him.

“I’m not,” you tell him.

“Good,” he reaches for your hand and squeezes. “This life isn’t what you think it is.” He sounds almost sad, and it tugs at your heart. “I don’t want you to see me as someone in the business.”

You shake your head. No, of course you don’t. He’s been nothing but kind to you and honest.

The elevator bell dings finally, and his hand is on your lower back guiding you to his room. He fishes for his keys in his pockets and smiles at you when he slides the key into the lock.

You gasp when you step inside the room. It’s big and beautiful. So much space! It’s bigger than your apartment.

“Feel free to make yourself at home,” he says warmly.

“You’re not staying?”

“I thought you would want to be alone,” he offers, taking a step towards you.  

“I want you to stay.”

Trembling, you reach for his hand guiding his warm palm to rest on your cheek. His touch is soft, a whisper over the growing bruise on your face. Tears well up in your eyes, the gravity of the situation finally catching up with you.

“I won’t let him hurt you again,” he says smoothing his thumb over the bruise.

Feeling bold, you place your hand on his chest. His eyes flick down and he reaches up to hold your hand.

“What is it sugar?”

“I want you Blue, I need you.”

His eyebrow raises in question, you know what he’s asking. If you do this if you fall into bed with him there’s no going back. An affair of this magnitude will have consequences. But you’re ready to be rid of Sam, you want Blue.

When you close the gap further and trace your knee up his thigh, Blue pulls you in for a searing kiss. The flames lick at your body, his tongue a fierce passionate intrusion into your mouth. His hands are already working on the zipper of your dress, and he hums in delight when he feels the bare skin of your back.

He pushes your dress down then, exposing your breasts to him. You’re truly a sight. He pulls you back in for a kiss and his hand cradles the back of your head – leaning you down on the bed. Fingers dance along your body, his thumbs brush over your nipples as they pass by. He’s quick to slide off the rest of your undergarments, now leaving you naked in front of him.

He’s quick to undress himself, and you gawk as each part of his suit drops to the floor. His cock is aching with need, and he pumps himself lazily – his pinky ring catches the light, and you groan.

Blue crawls over you, kissing his way up to your mouth. His hands are everywhere. One hand cups a breast, the other teases your slick folds. His mouth is all over your neck and jaw and face. He nibbles your ear. His fingers bring you to pleasure embarrassingly quick.

“Sugar,” he bites your neck, “you did need me, didn’t you?” he purrs.

When he finally pushes himself inside after all the teasing, he whines in your ear.

“Fuck,” he groans. “Fuck!”

Your hands slip into his perfectly gelled hair and pull. You kiss at his neck. He growls and thrusts harshly. His rich cologne is in your nose, mixed with a hint of smoke and sweat. His body moves on top of yours in strong fluid motions. You’re coming again quickly, just as he spills into you.

You groan together, the sweet music of you pleasure intertwining.

Blue makes love to you all night. Heated and rough. Slow and sweet. Passionate and electrifying.

You’re overly sensitive and have tear stained cheeks before the night is over.

It’s close to 5 am when you’re finally still and tangled in the sheets with your new lover.

“I want to run away with you.” You tell him. Your fingers tracing shapes on his chest while he holds you.

“I’d love that too sugar. But we can’t.”

“Why couldn’t we though?” you sit up. “Why couldn’t we just run away right now?”

“Too many obligations,” he smooths his hair back. “You know it and I know it.

“What? As a performer?”

“I can at least help you get away from Sam.”

You flop back down on the bed. You know he’s right. You can’t just leave, even though it’s what you want. But you’d never be able to rest, you know they have people everywhere who would find you.

So, you begin to plan. It won’t be easy to end things with Sam. It makes you nervous, and after such a good night with Blue, you can hardly stand to think about it. You fall asleep in Blue’s arms making plans for your future together.

When you wake, you’re alone.

The curtains are closed but you can see the sunlight trying to peek in. The clock on the wall tells you it’s close to noon. With a groan you sit up and stretch. There’s a note on the bed where Blue slept. The ink is dark blue and in perfect smooth cursive.

‘Meet me tonight, sugar. After your show. xx Blue.’

You hold the note to your chest and sigh happily. You collect your things to get dressed, but you pause when you see the giant bathtub in the bathroom. You draw yourself a bath and sink into the tub. You’re sore from last night, not just sex with Blue – but Sam hurting you. But you try not to think about that part.

Hunger and the water cooling pull you from the bath. You take a good long look at yourself in the mirror. There are hickeys and slight scrapes from a certain mustache all over your skin. But Blue was careful to only mark you up in places that would be hidden by your dress. Your bruise and slight cut on your cheek are healing, but still hurt. They can be covered with makeup, but your face is still a little swollen.

Tears well up in your eyes, you try to think about Blue’s tender touch instead.

You get ready as best you can, realizing you need to go back to the club to get your clothes. You’re sure it would be alright if you grabbed a meal then too.

It seems so different now to go down the elevator alone, and to walk alone in the daylight to the club. You make your way in the alley to the backstage doors. Two stagehands are having a smoke break, and the door is propped open. They don’t seem to notice or care that you trot up the stairs and disappear inside.

Returning to your dressing room after last night sends a sick feeling to your stomach. All your make-up is on the floor. The mirror is broken. It’s a complete mess. But you wipe your tears away and change out of your dress into your regular clothes from the night before. Carefully, you pick up the make-up from among the glass.

That’s when you hear two voices. They’re hushed, speaking right outside in the hallway. One of them is Sam. You feel sick. You quiet yourself so he won’t know you’re in here.

The other voice you don’t recognize. But what he says scares you.

“You have to do it tonight Miller. You have to kill him.”

“I know,” Sam hisses back. “I fuckin’ know.”

You can’t catch anymore because their voices fade as they walk down the hall farther from your room. You sigh to yourself, but bristle at the thought of who they are planning to kill. You need to tell Blue.

You forget to stop by the bar to get food, instead you ask around if Blue is in the building. No one has seen him, and you take no comfort in that. The thought of Sam seeing you here fills you with dread, so you make a hasty exit back to your apartment.

You’ll go back to the club early tonight. Warning Blue is all that matters. Even the promise of another night tangled in the sheets is pushed from your mind from the fear.

But you’re exhausted. Your entire night last night was full of emotions and physical moments. Even if your night had not been filled with Blue, you wonder if you would have slept after such a fight in the dressing room.

You sit down on your bed for a moment, and the next thing you know, you wake with a gasp.

It’s after dark.

Panicking, you grab your purse sprinting out the door.

You make it to the club, but you’re late. You gasp a little louder than you intended when you see Blue is alive and well onstage.

You make your way backstage and look for him when he’s done with his act. You see him entering your dressing room before you can catch up with him. You run, scared there might be a trap waiting for him.

“Blue!” you gasp running into the room only to see him standing in front of a new mirror smoothing down his hair. The room is completely clean, it looks nicer than it was before. There’s no evidence of what happened last night.

“Yeah sugar?” he turns with a smile. “Something wrong?”

“It’s Sam,” you run to him, hugging him tight. “He’s going to kill someone. I heard him talking.”

“Where is he?” Blue looks angry. He moves like a man on a mission out of your dressing room. You follow behind him as he makes his way out onto the main floor looking for Sam.

He’s at the bar having a drink. It’s all a blur after Blue grabs Sam’s shoulder. Punches are thrown left and right. You watch in horror as Sam gets his punches in. You don’t know if he’s supposed to kill Blue, or if he’s angry Blue has taken you away from him.

A few men pull Blue and Sam apart, and Blue tells you to go.

“Go to our hotel, wait for me. It’ll be alright.” He slips the room key into your hand, and tears well up in your eyes. “Go.”

As you’re leaving, Sam breaks away and goes at Blue again. A brawl is breaking out in the club. You leave with tears pouring down your cheeks. You’re scared for Blue’s life.

For the second time today you’re alone in that hotel. The walk there is a blur as you’re crying and shaken with fear.

Your hands are trembling when you unlock the door, you can barely get the key in. Being in this room after last night has you feeling comforted and frightened all at once. There’s so much Blue in the room, it feels like him. But what if he gets hurt? What if you don’t see him ever again? About a million thoughts race through your mind for the next few hours.

You grow sick with worry.

Where is he?

It’s late into the night when you finally hear a knock on the door. You jump out of your skin. You look through the peephole and your gasp hurt your chest. Opening the door, you see Blue- standing there with his hands covered in blood.

His white silky jacket is gone, and his shirt has bloodstains on it. His hair is a mess, and blood is splattered on his face. His hands are the worst though, completely red. The blood has long dried and he seems visibly shaken.

“What happened?” you gasp pulling him in the room. “Are you hurt?”

“Your boyfriend, Sam, I-“ he looks down at his hands, “I killed him.”

All the air is knocked out of you. Sam is dead? As in? D-e-a-d? And Blue is the one that did it? What could have happened?? What are you supposed to be feeling right now?

“I’m sorry,” Blue cups your face with his bloodstained hands. You feel the sticky drying blood on your cheeks, a reminder of the life that used to flow in Sam’s veins.

“What happened?” you grab Blue’s wrists, securing his hands to your face. You want to know. You did love Sam long ago, you think. But there’s been so much fear and pain, you’ve grown to despise him. You decide his death now means your freedom, and a future with Blue. You want to know what happened, every gory detail.

So, he tells you.

Blue tells you how he was mingling in the crowd after his performance, trying to act casual. Someone threw a punch at someone, then it was a big blur. That’s when Sam made his move for Blue.

“He was after you this whole time?” you gasp. “Why?”

“Sam was a fuckin’ mole this whole time. He was rattin’ on us, giving up secrets to rival mobs.”

Your hand flies to your mouth in shock.

“Why was he after you?” your lip trembles.

“Hey, shh,” he traces his thumb over your trembling lip. “Don’t tremble, sugar. I’m safe. See?” he spins around showing you that he’s fine.

He continues his story, painting an awful picture of Sam charging for Blue. He had a knife out, ready to stab Blue.

“And he almost did, nicked the sleeve on my shoulder. But I got to him first.”

“How?”

Blue pats his breast pocket, “I keep a small knife in here, you never know.”

Your rational mind tells you this is dangerous, that you should leave. But killing Sam wasn’t murder, just self-defense.

“Then what happened?”

Blue stabbed Sam. Then the mob does what they do, swept the whole thing under the rug.

“Is this our chance? Blue are we free?”

Blue sighs heavily. He turns from you, pacing back and forth in the hotel room. Now you notice the ripped sleeve on his shoulder, and just how much blood is on his white silk suit jacket. His arms and hands are deep red. You feel a little dizzy.

“Boss gave me a bigger job, they’re proud of me.”

That’s the last thing you hear Blue say before you pass out.

When you come to, you’re lying on the bed. Strong, rich cologne wafts into your nose, and you slowly sit up to see Blue. He’s sitting next to you on the bed, wearing a white robe with black trim. His hair is wet and slicked back. His hands are squeaky clean.

“There she is,” Blue whispers and leans down to press a light kiss to your forehead. “You alright?”

You nod, feeling a little dizzy.

“You’re in shock,” he tells you standing up. “Let me draw you a bath? Would you like that sugar?”

“We’re still stuck Blue. Stuck in this life!” You feel like you’re going to be sick.

“Sugar, hey woah, deep breaths for me. I’m in good with them right now, we don’t have to worry.”

“But what if you screw something up?” you gasp at your own words. “I’m sorry.”

His jaw ticks and he looks angry, but then you see a soft smile.

“I understand, I do. But right now, there’s nothing we can do. Let me draw you a bath.”

You know he’s right, so you let him. The bathtub is huge, and the water is the perfect temperature. He sits on the edge of the tub and you let him wash the blood off your face.

“Blue?” you blink up at him. “What if you kill the boss?” You’re too scared to even say his name, as if he could hear you in this room. With the mob, who knows. There could be bugs in here.

“How would that help?” Blue crosses his arms and leans back a little.

“I don’t know,” you shrug and look down. “I just thought, you’ve killed before why not do it again.” You whisper.

“Wait, wait sugar you might be onto something.” He sits up. “If I kill him then I could take over! Damn, sugar. How would you like to be a mob boss’s wife hmm? Oh baby,” he pushes up his sleeve and sticks his hand down in the water between your legs. “I would spoil you rotten,” he grits his teeth on the last word to emphasize, all while his fingers tease your sex.  

He brings you closer to orgasm with his fingers while he fills your mind with promises of your future together.

“I’d kill for you, sugar. I’d burn the world down if I could give you what you want. Tell me, what do you want?” His fingers circle your bundle of nerves harder, and then he thrusts his fingers inside.

“You, Blue. I want you,” you moan as you reach your high. You whine, and he smirks. His eyes raking over your body in the tub.

When you’re done with your bath, Blue helps you out. He chuckles mischievously in your ear when he wraps a plush robe around your body. You surprise him then and nudge him back into the bedroom.

You untie his robe and shove him back on the bed. You shrug your robe and drop to your knees.

“Sugar- “

“Blue, let me. Let me suck the cock of the future boss.”

He lulls his head back at your words, and he groans even louder when you put your lips on him.

“The power you’d have,” you moan and kiss his thighs. “We could do anything we want,” you lick a stripe up to his tip and he jerks his hips. You mingle your praises with the actions of your mouth, teasing him.

He’s loud, desperate. The hunger for power and the hunger for his release have him writhing against your touch. He’s hungry, and he’ll take what he wants. He thrusts up into your mouth and comes with a loud moan.

When he sits up, his hair is disheveled, a wicked grin is on his face. You know the look; he’s got an idea.

“I know how I can become the boss.”

Blue is balls deep in your heat when he goes over the plan one last time. His thrusts are hard, erratic. You’ve come twice already and he’s nearing his end. Your thighs burn and your lungs struggle to catch a breath. This time it’s different, you both know.

Tonight’s the night.

Tonight, is the night Blue takes over the club and becomes the boss.

You’re nervous though. There are too many parts of this plan that could go wrong. But this is the only way that you and Blue will get your freedom – is if he’s in charge.

“No one,” he grunts, grabbing your hips, “Will hurt you again-“ He moans spilling deep inside you. Your walls flutter and you come a third time around him. The rush of knowing you’re going to be part of a murder scheme floods your veins. It feels so wrong, but Blue feels so good.

Blue lets himself collapse onto you, his mouth already seeking yours for a searing kiss. His tongue delves into your mouth and he moans, he twitches inside of you.

“Blue?” you purr and rake your fingers through his hair. “You getting hard again?”

“You’re all mine,” he growls and kisses all over your face and neck. “Don’t forget what I said. Be in the office right after the show ends.”

You want to stay with him, but he pulls out. There’s something on his mind. You wonder if he’s nervous about tonight.

“Stick to the plan,” he says.

The plan.

The plan is to do the show like normal. The boss will be there tonight. After the show, go in his office for a private meeting. Blue will follow behind and while he’s staring at your figure, Blue goes for the kill.

Should be simple enough right?

Wrong.

You’re trying to get dressed in the bathroom but your hands tremble. You just know you’re going to get something wrong tonight.

“I’m scared Blue,” you call to him. You’re looking at your reflection, waiting to hear his reply.

“C’mere sugar,” you hear him. He’s quick to greet you with a smile. His hands reach for your hips and he pulls down your hose. “You were right,” he growls. “I was getting hard again.” You look down between your bodies to see him stroking himself. Loose strands of hair are in his face, the veins in his neck pop from exertion as he jerks himself off over. His cum splatters all over your stomach and your bra.

“That’s my only one!” you gasp but moan, feeling yourself grow slick.

“Guess you’ll have to go without,” he smirks and buries his face between your thighs. His voice comes out in a gravelly whisper, “you’re going to be perfect, sugar. There’s nothing to mess up. You sing, and you look gorgeous.”

Blue’s mouth on your heat distracts you from the nerves. But only for a moment.

Even when you peel off your bra and clean off yourself your hand has a tremble. You can’t even apply your lipstick properly.

“Here, let me,” Blue sweeps in, swiping the red stick across you lips. “Remember this?” he grins affectionately. How could you forget? Though it seems like a lifetime ago.

Blue gives you a wink, an unspoken reminder that it’ll be alright. You want to believe him, you truly do. And you think on this on the short walk over to the club.

It wasn’t too long ago it was your dream to be a famous singer. Now you’re dating a man planning to kill and then become a mob boss. Your dream of fame seems meaningless now.

You remember that singing always calms your nerves, you hope it does tonight.

Your fingers tremble as you get dressed in your dressing room. These clasps have never been easy due to the tight nature of your outfit, but tonight it seems more difficult. Murder. You’ll helping to assist a man with a murder plot. This isn’t you. Or it wasn’t you. You look at yourself in the mirror and see the guilt and shame.

You picture Blue here. What would he say if he were with you? That Fontana is a bad man. He’s killed people. Hurt people. You’re doing the world a favor right?

Then you think about the promises Blue made to you. Being a mob wife, being spoiled with riches and affection from your doting husband.

Your face warms thinking about marrying Blue. You can picture what your wedding would be like. Him taking you somewhere fancy for your honeymoon.

Yes.

This is what you want. You’re going to help Blue with this. Besides, you’re not the one doing the actual killing. Blue has killed before, and he can again.

It’s almost showtime and you’re ready. As ready as you’ll ever be.

The backstage tech comes to get you, telling you it’s your cue. You give them a smile. This show is going to be killer.

You don’t make it a habit to look out in the audience when you perform, but you do tonight. Just to make sure the boss Fontana is there. And he is, sitting quietly near the middle.

You give it your all in this performance, it might be your last one for a while. You’ve not talked to Blue about it, but you wonder if that would be a bad idea.

You sing your heart out, and when the show is over you feel a rush of adrenaline as you head backstage. Blue is waiting for you in your dressing room with a big smile.

“You were fantastic, sugar,” he strokes your arm and gives you a deep kiss. “You ready for the second act? I’ll be right behind you, don’t be afraid.”

It’s hard not to be when you walk towards Fontana’s door. You’ve never been in here before. You take a moment to gather yourself. You smooth down the lines of your outfit and breathe. You knock on the door, and before you can even put your hand down – one of his guards is opening it.

The room is dimly lit and it’s hard to make out Fontana. There’s a window behind him. The shades are drawn but on the other side of the window you can tell is the bar.

You stand frozen, unsure of what to do when a guard puts his hand on your shoulder, pushing you back a little.

“Let her in,” you hear a voice.

It sounded like….

Blue?

As your eyes fully adjust to the light, you can see Blue sitting at the desk. He must have done it! He didn’t need you as a distraction after all!

“Blue?” You take a step forward. “Are you alright? Did you do it?”

“Do what sugar?” He chuckles softly and looks to the man standing to his right. It’s only then that you notice this man is Fontana. You gulp, you feel your blood run cold. Something’s not right.

“I thought-“

“You thought what?”

“Blue! Answer me!” You cross your arms over your chest. He’s not usually one for games with you like this.

“Sweetheart, no one tells me what to do.” He tuts with a frown that turns to a malicious smile. “But I suppose…I should explain to you what’s going on.”

A guard closes the door behind you with a click, and you hear the lock turn. You’re scared.

“You see, sugar-“ his voice sounds poisonous, not the one full of smooth honey and sensuality that you’d come to love. “We knew that Sam was the mole. We needed to get to him see? So I knew pulling you away from him would expose him.”

“You used me?”

He nods with another wicked smile.

“Oh, and I’m the boss. If you haven’t guessed that one yet. Always was. Did you really think they’d name a club after a random nightclub singer?” He laughs and so do his men. “Fontana here was my figurehead. And you fell right into my little trap sweet thing.”

“I-“ you feel betrayed. You were betrayed. You turn to leave, but a guard grabs your arm.

“I did NOT say you could leave. Sugar.” Blue yells and slams his hand on his desk. The action causes his perfectly gelled hair to flip down onto his forehead.

“What use do you have for me?” you feel hot tears pouring down your cheeks.

Blue looks up to Fontana with another wicked grin. “Well,” Blue starts and gets up, walking around the desk to face you. Two of his guards have their hands on you, keeping you still. Blue comes over to the front of his desk and leans on the edge looking at you. “You have two options.”

“Which are?” you sniffle and your lip begins to quiver.

“Aww, look at that lip,” he chuckles. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” he claps his hands together and you jump. “You want your two options.” He sighs heavily and his thumb smooths over the edge of the desk repeatedly. “You can either marry me, be a mob wife. I’ll give you anything you want. Remember? When you were sucking my cock?” he chuckles and palms his dick through his pants. “You moaned sugar, you wanted to be my little mob wife. Well, now you have that chance!”

Tears are pouring down your cheeks, your face is hot with embarrassment and you feel like you could throw up all over the floor.

“But the second option…well, that’s not as fun. Since you’ve seen too much….well. I think you can guess your second choice.”

“I don’t-“ you sniffle again. You certainly don’t want to die, but what kind of life will you live if you’re Blue’s wife? Did he ever really love you?

“C’mere, sugar,” he beckons you over and the guards release their grip. You step over to him, he’s fully seated on the edge of his desk now. He reaches for you and smooths his hands up and down your arms like he has so many times. “You’re scared. I know. But you want to marry me right?”

“Did you ever?”

“Love you? No. But I did love fucking you,” he smirks. “It’d be a shame to give that up.” He pulls you forward and hovers over your lips with his own. “And remember, you owe me.”

“Owe you?” You pull back.

He hops up and goes to sit back in his chair. He looks through files on top of his desk and hands you a piece of paper. It’s the paper saying that you were hired by the club.

“I hired you. Yeah, your voice is good, but see we needed you. And hey! You got the gig!” he sits up and pulls you around to him. “But you OWE me.” He says pulling you down on his lap. You can feel him hard between your legs. “Feel that sugar? Do you wanna give this up?” He rubs himself against you and you want to pull away.

“So you’ve made your choice then?” he asks, grabbing your face to look at him.

“Blue, no-“

“You have.” He tsks and frowns. “Such a waste of good pussy. Ah, well. I can find another.” He reaches then in his breast pocket for the knife you know he keeps in there. He’s fast, you see it for a split second before he plunges it into your chest.

“Such a waste. She really was a knockout,” he strokes your cheek gently before you fall limp onto his desk. Your blood trickling over the fallen paper in your hand.

Blue stands and he motions towards his men. He snaps his fingers, “take care of this.” He turns looking out the window and he spots a waitress he’s had his eye on for some time. “Bring her to me, I have an itch I need to scratch,” he chuckles palming his hard dick.

Blue repeats looking at your lifeless body as the men carry you off, “she really was a knockout.”

ps....don’t spoil the ending for those who haven’t read it yet!!

tagging: @punkpascal, @sergeantkane, @pascalz, @wasicskosgirl, @tintinwrites, @velvetmel0n, @huliabitch, @mandoplease, @mylifeliterally, @shadow-assassin-blix, @bisexual-space-slut, @writefightandflightclub

[generallypo]

in all sincerity, kim dokja makes me happy and he deserves to be so too :^(

incoherent yelling and sobbing under the cut. these fEELINGS will not be contained aaauuunnghhh. 

------

anyway i binge-read all 500+ chapters of ORV this week and i honest to god feel bad for this -- completely! fictional! aghhhh -- guy. in case you haven’t figured it out, the following is some spoilerly shit

i went in expecting a fun, brainless power trip fantasy for dudes with an isekai addiction. instead, it turns out ORV is actually a gigantic, self-deprecating prank on the entire genre itself. kdj plays more into the sad -- if high-functioning-- clown trope than the sexy, edgy, chuuni bastard type i was prepared to laugh at. there were -- gasp! -- female characters with personalities! parents (aka ADULTS who act like ADULTS) who actually survive and feature prominently! adorable children! a real sexy, edgy bastard! a power trio with amazing fashion! sexual tension and bickering! friendship! life and death bonding! 

*breathes in deeply* fouND FAMILYYYYYYY.

like, yeah, the plot around the first few arcs seems a little aimless, but the buildup is worth. the world-building is pretty decent. there’s discernible effort put into the fight scenes, and i can appreciate that. but -- but! what i stayed for were the characters -- namely, the fantastic OT3 of KDJ, HSY, and YJH -- who come together despite their initial rivalries and end up saving each other’s asses, like, every other day. granted, the other characters don’t get as much focus, and they do fall into certain character tropes.. 

but a trope done well is nothing i would gripe about. every significant character in ORV has a coherent, and more importantly, respectful take on their respective trope. maybe it’s because sing-shong is actually a married couple, but all the interactions between even minor characters are a convincing blend of awkward rambling, suggestive humor, sharp remarks, and casual banter. in other words, this cast of mostly working adults (plus a teen and two kids) talks like working adults. the relationships built throughout the story are, frankly, some of most realistic of its genre. sing-shong has managed to craft a dynamic that undoubtedly brims with fluffy fondness all around, but also drips with sarcastic tension, with unspoken urgency, with a wariness that softens into sincerity over the course of many, many chapters. it’s the kind of progression that makes even stock characters read like more than just the 2-bit villain or comrade or love interest. here, we have relationships both straightforward and not, strained or otherwise, romantically-oriented as well as decidedly the opposite -- and then numerous others scattered along the spectrum with the freedom to shift either way. 

it’s also an interesting point of note that our MC kdj actually does not end up with a stated romantic partner, much less a conventional heteroromantic harem. he gets teased about that fact from time to time, but it’s with less of the sleazy shonen locker room humor one would expect and more of the good-natured ribbing you’d find among friends or that one especially nosy auntie at the yearly family reunion. kdj is a grown ass man. in the background, i applaud his maturity, and he handles all the prodding like a champ. 

so instead of finding and fulfilling his horny, he builds himself a wealth of loving family. yeah, there are beautiful men and women around him. yeah, they unequivocally adore him. but they’re also adults, and they have priorities, too -- which are not so much finding a way to bang kdj’s brains out and more so simply keeping the damn guy alive. this is truly not ‘oblivious mc with his thirsty, sex kitten harem’. it just so happens that a guy proves himself to be unflinchingly gentle and capable in an apocalyptic setting despite his broken self-esteem, and lots of people find that attractive, romantically and platonically. 

it.. kinda makes sense? he’s a hard worker, thoughtful, and good with kids. kdj is the kind of guy you know would make a reliable partner, and anybody with eyes can plainly see and appreciate that. 

and it’s not that our MC’s a total brick wall. in fact, it’s likely the opposite, and he’s just too darned repressed to admit it. from what has been implied, kdj does indeed recognize and accept love, or at least a primitive concept of it. i like to imagine that the kind of love that he ends up seeking out simply manifests itself more easily as acceptance and safety, as warmth and a home of people to return to every day. even better, the people who surround him know this, and they give him exactly that. it’s refreshing, and honestly, really sweet.

(as a side note, i really, really do appreciate the cosmic bi energy radiating off of kdj, who canonically earns the title of being loved by all and is all but in name married to yjh and hsy. he also respects women and small children and honestly anyone who isn’t total scum to him or his family. i respect that.)

but the happy stuff aside, you know it it just ain’t ORV without the generous screaming dollop of angst. admittedly, there’s self-sacrifice, injury, lonesome wandering, more sacrifice, some epic fighting, reunion and confrontation. all of it is a lot to digest, sure, but never does it feel entirely hopeless, or truly, truly heart-clenching. ORV, up until the final act, is a mostly light read. you relax in your chair, thinking that nothing beyond this point can disturb you. 

yeah fucking right.

------

and then the beginning of the end arrives. when the squad finally break through to their ‘ending’, the scene that kind of breaks me is the reveal of the Most Ancient Dream. it ties so much thematically into the little tidbits that we get of kdj’s past, and it though it feels like almost a joke that the source of the goddamn apocalypse is a kid with bruises smeared across his skinny ass body -- it’s such a pathetic picture that it’s kinda poetic, actually. you’re left mystified but somewhat convinced, like a math problem explained halfway through. this.. child.. is a villain somehow, isn’t he?

and then 999th turn uriel speaks up, and she. just. hugs him. 

[[You are this universe’s most powerless existence, aren’t you.]] 

that. that gets me. kdj’s reaction immediately upon this revelation? absolute murder. seeing him essentially self-destruct upon realizing that all these people he’s surrounded himself with -- some who continuously proclaim their loyalty and affection for him throughout their journey, some who suffered eons of war and loss and trauma because of his existence -- not only forgive his younger self but smother him with unconditional acceptance and love is stifling, is too vulnerable and exposed and he simply can’t cope -- it’s so telling of his true mentality, of his crippling insecurity and crumpled sense of self-worth. kim dokja is a liar, through and through, so much that he fails, or perhaps refuses, to comprehend the veracity of others’ kindness and love towards himself. 

by some miracle, the events at the end of the world somehow resolve.. or so it seems. there is a departing train, a liberated team of ex-gods, and a child rousing from his slumber. in the aftermath, i am left shaking. somehow, despite the ending having been (happily?) reached, there’s still another chapter ahead. what is this witchcraft?

------

and then ah, yes -- the epilogue arc. i teetered on the edge of being critical for a little bit there -- is that display of deus ex machina, of sad, self-sacrificing nobility a bit too egregious to be acceptable? is this some wild last let-me-yank-this-outta-my-ass plot twist to drag out the chapter count? i sincerely thought that the arc before it would have been the finale. i was wrong. thank god.

anyways, as an answer to the above: no, and no. i stake my firm claim on the belief that the epilogue arc was meticulously planned out well in advance of its release, confusing and time-warpy as it is. i liked it. tremendously. even if it entirely invalidates all of kdj’s supposed development (”haha lol yeah sure i won’t sacrifice myself or anything anymore guys don’t worry about me” -- KDJ, at some point because he’s a lying rat bastard). actually, our beloved MC disappears for a large chunk of this arc, and i think it’s great. in his absence, the other characters not only go absolutely fucking nuts, but they have to figure out this new problem on their own, even if the lure of peaceful complacency in the newly saved Korea might convince them otherwise. 

and then the whole time paradox thing comes around. yjh goes to space, hsy saves the only life she can, and kdj grows up. the crew waits, holding onto their hope even if it bleeds them dry. sing-shong does a damn good job of illustrating their fraying calm, their lurking madness, the unseen but pervasive depression that seeps in from kdj’s absence. the kids lose their father, lhs and jhw lose their reliable leader figure, ysa loses a best friend and confidant, lsk -- as distant as she pretends to be from her son -- loses her only child. and then there’s hsy and yjh , who are essentially bereft of the other half of their existences. their pain is palpable, is grounded in the hopeless, gnawing frustration of an utterly meaningless victory. emotionally, ORV hits all the right -- if agonizing -- beats.

however, a story can’t sustain itself just through its pathos. i’m happy to say that ORV doesn’t drop the ball after the first milestone, and after all the hurt, the characters do leap straight back into action. even better, the plot holes actually do get patches, and the poetic cycle of writer, protagonist, and reader comes full circle by making use of all those supposedly throwaway characters from the myriad world lines. 

at the end of the road, there is a distinct sense of unity, of a delicate but undeniable cohesion to the world lines and their origins. sing-shong lets us guess a little here at the finish, but there’s just enough information to feel hopeful. maybe there never had been a definite start -- or finish -- to the story of kdj company, and... that’s okay. everybody ends up where they were meant to be, where they fought and struggled to reach. it’s.. almost like a happily ever after, if we’re allowed to dream of that.

------

now, i realize, this was all an orchestrated maneuver.

i’ll take it.

to me, all of this work sounds like someone put some serious thought into this behemoth of a plot. it cements the entire original premise of the story. it suggests -- but never explicitly confirms! -- the possibility that breaking free of the cycle is possible through the exact same system that sustains it. it’s terribly interesting -- and inspirational! with all the dramatic revelations and life-threatening scenarios  and the cast’s resigned acceptance of them that essentially make up ORV’s entire mood, there’s still that last hint of rebellious and righteous anger that lights up the whole damn nebula. it’s like the kdj company blasting away at the heavens just to yell into the nether: we’re not looking for the happy end, but the free one. stay alive.

it’s subtle, and yet it’s such an emotional gut punch. i came away with the most ruinous, frustrating, bittersweet sense of longing in ages. i pined. for these fictional darlings. god, i am weak.

so. yeah. ORV is pretty good. flawed, but ambitious and impressively thought out.  i’m stoked that the webtoon is making pretty good progress, even if it’ll take an eternity and a half to meet that monstrous chapter count. i’m still gonna follow it. hell yeah. 

------

(by the way the idea that secretive plotter and co are literally gonna take care of and raise baby kdj and spoil him and be the best friggin family a kid could ever want does things to me. protect him. he’s suffered too much. let at least one worldline’s version of him know happiness. and actually, aLL OF THEM DESERVE DOMESTIC BLISS TOGETHER IN A BIG OL MANSION WITH SUN AND FRESH AIR AND TENDER FAMILY MOMENTS UGH)

------

and there you have it, folks. you made it to the end. in the far, far distance, i’m cheering you on and crying my eyes out in gratitude. thanks for tuning in!

[charmandhex]

Continuation of this

For @terezis, because Ginny was very excited about the original

~

“This is it?”

There’s a lot that Taako is conveying in those three words. Disbelief, displeasure, and disgust chief among them, though there might be some disappointment and dismay hidden in there as well. Kravitz looks between Taako and the pitiful museum the size of a handkerchief that the residents of the Astral Plane call a kitchen, clearly annoyed.

“What’s wrong with it?” Kravitz asks, throwing his hands up in exasperation. “You asked for a kitchen. This is a kitchen!”

“In the loosest possible sense of the term.” Taako waves a hand at the room that Kravitz has the audacity to call a kitchen, nose wrinkled in distaste. “That stove looks like it’s older than I am. No, older than Merle. No, older than you. You’re old, right?”

The look on Kravitz’s face says that if the Grim Reaper had any blood floating around in his construct body, his face would be tending toward an interesting shade of purple right now.

Taako clicks his tongue and steps in further, cautious, undecided if he’s worried that the antiques will fall apart around him or if he’s worried that Kravitz is going to attempt to actually dump him in the soul soup. He drags a fingertip across the counter. Dusty, no doubt from disuse spanning years. The refrigerator is running, but it’s certainly not winning any marathons any time soon. It’d be better off with its door ripped off and chucked into the Millers’ floating trash room. The stove is... clean. And hopefully won’t blow up the Raven Queen’s whole castle in some kind of magical gas explosion. The sink works, and Taako sincerely hopes it has a different water source than the one single body of water in this plane. The equipment is limited, down mostly to the essentials, plus one blender that somehow looks as though it may be haunted. The food sitch is even worse: there’s salt, a bottle of chocolate sauce, a frozen protein of some kind that’s seemingly been tucked in the back of the freezer for so long that Taako can no longer identify what it even is, a few magically preserved potatoes that are still sprouting, and some Fantasy Twinkies that have not been magically preserved but are probably still doing better than the potatoes by virtue (or sin) of being Fantasy Twinkies.

“Well?” Kravitz asks, impatient, tapping his foot, single, single, triple, over and over again. “Will this do?”

Taako slowly turns around, blowing out a long breath. “Listen. Kravitz. I have worked in some, uh, unconventional kitchens in my time. I have used the world’s most pathetic campfire to flambé in a rainstorm. I have made soufflé in a moving wagon. I cooked for seven people in a galley kitchen in a ship that flew forward, back, sideways, upside down, and in loop-de-loops for 100 years!” Taako’s voice rises in pitch and volume as he goes, ending by throwing his arms out wide. “So when I tell you I can handle any and every kind of kitchen, you know that’s true. But, uh, my guy, even I can’t pull together a decent meal with what you birdbrains call a stocked pantry!”

Kravitz at once starts angrily sputtering, flashes of the ol’ red-eyed skull coming through before he sighs and closes his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose. “You’re a wizard. Can’t you- can’t you transmute or conjure food or something!”

Taako huffs before crossing his arms, leaning back into the kitchen counter. “I... can’t.” He admits. The words hang in the air for a long moment.

Kravitz seems to have traded aggravation for confusion. “You can’t what?”

“I can’t do magic.”

“Well, yeah,” a third voice pipes up, and both Taako and Kravitz jump. A young-looking elf, maybe mid-70s, walks out of the inky blackness that has a habit of collecting in corners around here. He’s scrawny, the kind of scrawny Taako recognizes from years on the road, and there’s a shadow under his eyes that Taako thinks death should have cleared up. “It’s part of that whole mess with the deal you two made. Yeah, it’s some kind of nasty magic Fate thread tangle apparently, but ‘course Istus knows more about that.”

“So it’s your fault!” Taako shouts, pointing an accusatory finger at Kravitz.

“Now hold on, we- we both made that deal- Keats, help a Reaper out here-” Kravitz pleads with the new arrival for backup.

“No, he’s right; it is your fault,” Keats throws over his shoulder as he starts digging into the Fantasy Twinkies. Taako has a new favorite employee of the Raven Queen already.

“Now- now wait just a- wait, wait, how did you already know you couldn’t do magic then, hm? Hm?” Kravitz retorts. “Trying to escape were you?”

Taako rolls his eyes. “Uh, no shit, I would have, but not even Mage Hand worked.”

“How come you wanted to do Mage Hand?” Keats asks, mouth full of Fantasy Twinkie and eyes full of mirth as he watches the show.

“To do this,” Taako answers, flipping off Kravitz.

“That’s just rude!” Kravitz throws a hand to his chest, looking offended.

“So’s making a bad deal to trap me in the Astral Plane and steal my magic!”

“I didn’t steal your magic! It’s just... tangled! And for the last time, that wasn’t even my intention, and you shook on it, too!”

Taako inhales, preparing to (loudly) relitigate this argument.

“I have a question,” Keats announces. Taako and Kravitz look over. “Taako, right? Can you make lemon bars?”

Taako blinks. “Can I- of course I can make fuckin’ lemon bars! Best fuckin’ lemon bars on that side of the veil, but that’s not happening over here right now.”

“Make ya a deal.” Keats brushes his hands together matter-of-factly. “Better deal than the one Kravitz made too.”

“That’s not a high bar.”

“Hey!”

“If you make a list of everything you need, I’ll pop over to the Prime Material Plane and make a shopping run. IF you make lemon bars. Uh-uh, no shaking on this one. I don’t want to somehow get tangled up in-” Keats waves a hand at Taako and Kravitz. “Whatever that mess is.”

“Done. Kid, you do this, and I’ll make you enough lemon bars to be a real boy.” Taako starts writing rapidly as Keats passes over pen and paper, either from his pocket or a pocket dimension, Taako doesn’t know or care.

“Thanks, but I’m millennia older than you,” Keats says cheerily.

Kravitz is sputtering again. Taako is mostly ignoring it.

“Keats, you’re grounded.”

“Yeah, but I’m less grounded than you.”

“That’s not even how it works.”

“Is too. You’re double grounded. One, you really boned this one up. And B, you have to stay here with Taako.” Taako tunes out further arguing until his (very long, because again, there is NOTHING in this kitchen) list is done. Keats takes it with a wink and a grin and an “Okay, bye!” as he cuts off Kravitz and disappears back into the shadows.

Kravitz lets out a groan before looking back to Taako.

“Don’t look at me!”

“Keats should be out for a few hours,” Kravitz says wearily. “Time passes at the same speed in both planes, and it’s been a while since he visited.”

“Cool,” Taako says shortly before he turns away, starting to open cupboards again. Someone in the Astral Plane does at least seem to care about kitchen cleanliness, even if they don’t use the thing, and Taako pulls out dish soap.

“Aren’t you going... don’t you want to go somewhere else?”

Taako looks back. “Kitchen’s not gonna clean itself, and thanks to a certain someone, I don’t have magic to help with that.” He explains, carefully weighting the individual words with every measure of his irritation.

“But I have paperwork,” Kravitz whines.

“So go do paperwork,” Taako snaps. You know, it really is a pity that Kravitz is as annoying as he is, because any other time, it probably would have been an upgrade to go from incredibly handsome man staring at him to being indefinitely stuck with said incredibly handsome man. Not that Taako’s gonna tell Kravitz that.

“But I have to make sure you don’t cause trouble.” Yeah, Kravitz’s looks do not make up for his personality. Or his bone-headed decisions.

“Sounds like a you problem, homie.” And before Kravitz can reply again, Taako shuts a cabinet door with a little more force than necessary. “Listen. If I have to be responsible for my own Fantasy Be Our Guest dinner and a show song and dance number in this particular spooky old castle then I will, but I’m not doing that in a dirty kitchen.”

Defeated, Kravitz blows out what might be his longest sigh yet. “I’ll get my paperwork.”

[whereisten]

ghouls just wanna have fun (A Creature Feature Story)

A Taeil fic that’s part of our Halloween Series! 

Summary: After your date ends up being a dud, you stumbled upon an unusual movie theater and its most appealing visitor, Moon Taeil. 

Pairing: Ghost! Taeil x female reader

Genre: romance, angst, pinch of smut, drama, fantasy, horror

Word Count: 7k

Warnings: gore mention, death mention, smut: masturbation mention

(A/N: Hi! Special shoutout to the Creature Feature readers. I love you...It’s almost one year to the day that I posted Part 1 (I know: where the hell is the rest of it?). Rest assured, the series will continue in November. This Halloween series has gotten me out of my funk. I hope you enjoy this story. And to newcomers, welcome! This story can be read alone, if you'd like, but I think you’d enjoy this more if you read my Creature Feature updates! Anyways: SHOUTOUT TO MY BEST FRIEND AND PARTNER IN CRIME/WRITING KRYS. SHE CREATED ANOTHER SPECTACULAR MOODBOARD FOR ME. SHE’S MADE SEVERAL FOR ME. AND I AM SO SPOILED. HER BRILLIANT BRAIN AND VISION DESERVE ALL OF THE LOVE. SEND IT HER WAY. We hope you enjoy this installment and our upcoming posts! Thank you for all of the love in our stories so far!

___

“Jaebum, I’m not going. Let me off here,” you demanded.

Well, tonight was just fantastic. Fan-freaking-tastic.

Your date that your friends set you up with ended up being a bust. He wanted to take you to a house party so he can get high and you could be his side piece for the night. Your friends were all in committed relationships and they thought you were bummed because you felt single and bitter.

No, you were just bummed at the fact that your friends had blown you off too many times for their significant others. That was the actual problem.

But they were doing better with you, you had to admit. They spent more time with you as their honeymoon stages with their significant others had finally dwindled. The set-up was supposed to be for fun.

They even thought that this date could open doors for you.

Doors to what? Well, it ended up being to the stench of weed in the back of Jaebum’s old Sonata.

Jaebum’s car, which included his two stoner friends Jinyoung and Yugyeom, came to a halt at a red light near a plaza.

“You want to leave, y/n? Then here’s your stop,” Jaebum said.

You raised your eyebrows. “You’re kidding me, right?”

Jaebum shrugged. “Take it or leave it. I got places to go.” His friends muttered over how uncool you were. The least this jerk could’ve done was take you back home.

You rolled your eyes. “Fine. Go to hell.”

The car sped off as you stood near the plaza entrance. It was getting colder as midnight approached. So you decided to wait outside of an abandoned Spirit Halloween store so your Uber could pick you up from there. You walked towards the plaza and suddenly…

Bright lights appeared before you that you quickly shut your eyes. You blinked them open, wondering what just transpired when you realized...

There was an active movie theater there, with a giant sign surrounded by bright light bulbs. It read “Sinema”.

What the hell, you thought.

You walked closer and closer and saw people coming in and out of the theater. And then...oh, wow, you really had lost your mind. Little human-like creatures of different colors were flying around the entrance...They were fairies! Their pixie fairy dust landed on your shoulders. You picked off the dust that had fallen on the shoulder of your dress. The texture reminded you of Cheeto dust. It was hard to get off. You were certain your black dress was permanently stained.

Then, a man walked past you and transformed into a large purple dragon before your very eyes. He blew out fire within a few feet from you, you yelped. He set off for the sky and vanished. After, another group of men walked past you, flashing their vampire teeth as they laughed about something. They were all stunning but the one with wavy electric blue hair was the real showstopper. You couldn’t think that too long as people that looked bright and transparent walked towards you.

You thought they were going to bump into you so you said. “Hello? Watch where you’re going!”

But they walked right through you and kept going. Seemed like they got that kind of comment a lot.

You blinked a few times. Did that just happen? Were those...ghosts?

A young woman in her red and navy blue uniform appeared before you. She smiled. “Welcome to Sinema, the premier theater for the supernatural! My name is Haseul. You look like you have a lot of questions. Is this your first time here?”

“I...I…” You started. “Is this really happening?”

She laughed. “Yes...All supernatural creatures and their approved companions are welcome here!”

You frowned. “There must be some mistake. I’m not a supernatural creature.”

Haseul pulled out her phone. “Your name?”

“Uh...y/n y/l/n…” You said. “Wait, why did I say that?” You answered her without even thinking. It was like she compelled you to do what she asked.

She winked. “It’s a special little skill of mine. It’s a part of the job.” She scrolled through an app on her phone. “Well, you’re not a part of the approved human companions list so...You have to be supernatural!”

You gaped. “That’s funny…This is a joke, right? Some kind of Halloween event? Well, you’re a few months too late…”

Haseul shook her head. “Oh, no, this is no reenactment. This is the real deal. Allow me to escort you inside.”

You weren’t sure if that was a good idea but you were curious. You followed her inside.

The movie theater was elegant and modern. The latest video games were available at the arcade. The concession stand was huge. It had to be with the number of creatures that were lined up for snacks. The theater was three stories high. Posters for the latest movies were up. The music that played overhead consisted of songs from the 70s, 80s, and more. Rick Astley’s “Never Gonna Give You Up” was playing.  Sinema seemed like any regular theater.

Well, except for the supernatural creatures, of course.

“What is this place?” You asked Haseul. “This can’t be real...I’ve been drugged. Jaebum got something in my system and I’m hallucinating. That has to be it.”

Haseul gave you a confused look. “This place is very real, y/n. I know it might be a hard pill to swallow but you belong here. To the supernatural world. A part of you is connected to this world. I’m not sure why it took you so long to discover that but...you’re here now.”

Haseul’s phone rang and she answered. “Yeah, boss?...Okay, I’ll stop calling you that...Oh? I see. Well, have fun with your boyfriend…” She teased. She hung up and she continued, “Well, y/n, I must be going but if you need anything, you can reach out to anyone who is wearing this uniform.” She showed off her uniform. She looked like a very casual flight attendant. The navy blue skirt was very flattering on her. Her white blouse had a red tie over it. Her name tag had her name written in her own elegant cursive.

“W-wait…” You started.

Haseul gave you a reassuring smile. “You can stay or leave, y/n. No one is keeping you here. But know that you’re always welcome here at Sinema. We hope to see you again.” She walked off to resume working, you thought.

You stood there, confused over what to do. Going to the movies hadn’t been in the cards for you tonight. Much less finding out that the supernatural existed in the same world you did.

Unless this was a parallel world, which just made your head spin even more.

Deciding to stay, you went back out to the main entrance to buy tickets. You heard growls among the chatter of people that stood in line before you. All kinds of creatures stood in front of you: werewolves, selkies, fairies, kitsunes, and more. You felt like the only outsider. For everyone else seemed to know their place…

According to Haseul, the only reason you could access this place was because you were a supernatural creature. And that...that just couldn’t be true. Sure you were adopted but you never displayed any kind of power or ability that would indicate you were a creature.

It was impossible, you thought. A striking young man with long silver hair stood behind you and you could feel his eyes on the back of your head. He was tall and muscular. You wondered what kind of creature he was or if he was actually a companion like Haseul described. You turned to him and his stare never wavered. “Can I help you?” You asked.

He blinked a few times to snap out of it. “I’m sorry...I zoned out…” He tipped an imaginary hat. “It’s your turn.”

“Miss?” The employee at the ticket stand asked. Like the young man behind you, she seemed human. However, the red tint in her eyes told you otherwise. You wondered what she could be.

“Oh, uh... A ticket to ‘Spider-Man: The New Kid’, please,” you said.

“That’ll be 12.50,” the employee replied.

Even if this was a movie theater for the supernatural, they certainly charged like a regular theater did. You paid the employee and got your ticket. The ticket stub was actually very beautiful. It was holographic so you could collect these stubs like trading cards, if you wanted.

You hung around too long so the silver-haired boy approached you.

He smiled at you. “Hello.”

You smiled, a little uneasy. “Hi…”

“First time at Sinema?” He asked. The man was stunning with his high cheekbones and dangerous dark eyes. A devil-may-care smile that must have won over a few women.

You nodded. “Is it that obvious?”

“The look of horror on your face hasn’t faded,” he said, chuckling.

You sighed. “Yeah...Well, I’m still pretty stunned.”

He said, “Well, you’ll get used to it eventually. Something about you makes you belong to this world, right? Do you know what it is?” His eyes widened.

It was almost as if he knew the answer. But if you didn’t know, how could he?

You sighed. “I couldn’t tell you. Maybe I’m just a fluke.”

“Oh, I have to disagree…” He started.

A ghost materialized right beside you. He stood closer to you and stared down the silver-haired man. Even if he was a ghost, he was the most alluring man you’d ever seen. Although translucent, his features were striking and not to be ignored. His undercut that accentuated his face so well was bright red, like rubies. His ears were decorated with crescent moon studs. He wore a navy button down and black slacks, like he was dressed for a hot date. His tan skin cast an ethereal glow. “Yuta, give the girl some air. She just discovered she’s not human.”

The silver-haired man named Yuta sighed. “Do you ever stay out of people’s business?”

The ghost rolled his eyes. “Do you?”

You averted your eyes from them and looked at the concessions menu. Hmmm, the Sour Patch Bats looked promising, you thought. You started, “I’m gonna go.”

Yuta was about to call your name again but the ghost boy raised his hand to stop him. “You’re already messing around here too much. Leave her alone.”

Yuta rolled his eyes. “I don’t have to listen to you. I’m the alpha.”

The ghost boy made faces as he imitated Yuta’s voice. “I’m the alpha. I eat the hearts of my enemies for breakfast. I’m Yuta.”

Yuta growled and it was so animalistic that you wondered if he was going to transform into the creature he most likely was. Your money was on him being a werewolf.

Yuta stormed off and returned to his posse of gorgeous and muscular people. They all watched you and you wondered what was so fascinating about you.

The ghost boy followed you as you got in line for concessions. “What’s your name?”

“Y/n...Yours?” You looked into his soulful eyes.

He smiled. “I’m Taeil. The eyes and ears of Sinema. And you’re new.”

“Yup...And I have no idea who I am or what the world is anymore…Well, it’s time for a snack.”

Taeil chuckled. “The Sour Patch bats are really popular but they sell out fast.”

An employee at the concession stand announced over the intercom. “Sorry, folks. The Sour Patch Bats are sold out.”

Everyone groaned and moaned and growled and wailed. Even you couldn’t help the tiny huff of disappointment that escaped your lips.

Taeil sighed. “Well, lucky for you y/n. I’m friends with the manager of this joint.”

You raised your eyebrows. “Oh, are you?”

He smirked. “I know where she keeps her secret stash of Sour Patch Bats. Now she normally hides those away for her boyfriend but I’m sure she won’t miss one bag…”

Taeil led you upstairs to the manager’s office.

You frowned. “Are you sure we can be here?”

Taeil winked. “Nope. But she owes me.”

Taeil moved himself through the front door and unlocked the door from the inside. You entered the office and found a bouquet of flowers on the manager’s desk.

“How did you touch…”

He cleared his throat like he’d debated what he was going to say. “With most of my strength, y/n...Anything to impress the prettiest girl to set foot in Sinema.”

Although your concept of ghosts was completely debunked (ghosts could indeed touch inanimate objects), your face warmed up at that comment. You tried changing the subject. “Taeil, maybe this is a bad idea…”

He shook his head as he stuck his hand through the manager’s desk drawer and rummaged around before he grabbed a bag of the popular candy. He threw it over to you. You caught it.

You opened the bag and ate the bat-shaped sour gummies of lime, orange, lemon, and cherry. They were the best candy you’d ever tasted and until tonight, you’d been deprived of their existence.

Your eyes grew. “These are...Oh my God.”

Taeil smiled knowingly. “I knew you’d like them. See, the supernatural world isn’t so bad, is it?”

You were touched. He was being so kind and attentive. So quickly, too. “No, I guess not…”

His beautiful lips curved upwards as he watched you enjoy the candy.

“What movie are you going to see?” He asked.

“Well, Taeil, I thought you were the eyes and ears of this place. You should know,” you teased.

He laughed. “Well, I don’t. Is it an oldie? Sinema plays throwback movies every week to appease the masses.”

You shook your head. “I’m watching the new Spider-Man. The new actor they picked is supposed to be above all of his predecessors so I’m excited.”

Taeil asked. “Can I join you?”

You pretended to deliberate. “Well, you have supplied me with sustenance so how could I say no?”

Taeil usually kept to himself, occasionally confiding in his best friend. He really was the eyes and ears of the theater. He knew of all the romantic entanglements that transpired. The current feuds between species. And more.

Typically, he was stuck facing his demons and never quite got past the last thing he needed to overcome in order to ascend to heaven.

He’d sought justice so what was holding him back?

And at the sight of you, he felt an ease in his heart that he hadn’t felt since he was alive.

___

Your first night at Sinema was the first of many where you and Taeil bonded and enjoyed each other’s company. You went to the theater every weekend and met up with him. You’d see a movie together and talk about it for hours on end. He’d even sometimes accompany you back to your dorm. And even if you could see him...no one else in the human realm could. So you would have to pretend you were on the phone when you talked to Taeil. Even as he sat closely beside you. Longing to hold your hand.

You wondered just how many creatures hid from you in plain sight. Some of them could masquerade as humans and you’d never know it. That terrified and excited you.

You loved Taeil’s sense of humor, how he showered you with free movie tickets and concessions (courtesy of his best friend’s connections), his wit, his smile, the goofy, fascinated look he gave you when you spoke.

You always wanted to push back his hair and slap his arm when he teased you. And you wondered what those soft red lips would feel like on yours.

But you couldn’t.

The most wonderful person you’d ever met.

And he was an apparition.

As for Taeil, well, he loved everything about you. Your mind. Your curiosity of the world. Your inability to shut away the unknown completely. The way you adapted to Sinema so quickly. The way you looked at him.

He was convinced that you also wanted to kiss him.

It killed you both, honestly.

You told him you were in your senior year of college. You were getting a degree as a nutritionist but you felt unsure about what you would pursue after college. You felt like nothing got your heart racing. You were just going through the motions, making your parents proud. They’d given so much to you so you didn’t want to disappoint them. So you figured getting a steady paying job was a step in the right direction and maybe one day you’d figure out your passion...and how to capitalize off of it.

Taeil could tell you were frustrated and lost and he wished you didn’t feel so down. He saw the light in your eyes. You had a whole future ahead of you. You would find your dream job someday, meet a man, settle down, have his children, and grow old together.

And him? Well, maybe at that point, he would finally have moved on.

Before meeting you, he was fixated on getting even with the man who murdered him and the woman who betrayed him and got the ball rolling.

He told you all about it...Originally, he didn’t want to because the details were too gruesome. But you’d been honest with him so it was the least he could do for you. He told you about his life in the west coast town of Luna, where he aspired to be a producer and songwriter. And he told you about how his life came to an abrupt end.

Taeil’s killer had been none other than Jung Jaehyun, the man whom his girlfriend had cheated on him with. Jaehyun was a member of one of Luna’s most notorious gangs and he detested Taeil. Taeil’s girlfriend, Lexa, didn’t know how to break up with Taeil so she could be with Jaehyun. She was frustrated because Taeil was so sweet and giving. He was so good to her that Lexa chickened out and never broke up with him. She was getting frustrated and Jaehyun was getting even angrier.

One of the nights that Lexa spent with Jaehyun, she let it slip that she wished there was a way she could get rid of Taeil. And Jaehyun was more than happy to oblige.

Jaehyun and his men cornered Taeil one night. He thought he was meeting Lexa for their 300 day anniversary. He got a text from her phone saying to meet her on the rooftop of the Nectarine Hotel because she had a surprise for him.

However, she was nowhere to be seen. Jaehyun took Taeil by surprise and pushed him off of the twenty story luxury hotel.

Jaehyun’s men lingered downstairs and made sure there were no witnesses on the scene. All evidence of Taeil’s death had been covered up. Taeil’s family and friends reported Taeil as a missing person. Lexa had also disappeared off of the face of the Earth. And many wondered if she and Taeil had disappeared to start anew.

That couldn’t have been further from the truth. Jaehyun, Lexa, and his men disposed of Taeil’s body off underneath an overpass. They’d buried his body and washed their cleans of him.

Taeil always thought about whether or not an afterlife existed. When he hit the ground from his fall, everything went black. The roaring pain all over his body that hit him for one moment...Quickly vanished at the next.

Taeil opened his eyes again and instead of seeing Downtown Luna...Only white surrounded him. Surrounded by golden specks.

An angel appeared before him with stunning peach-colored wings. The angel shined so brightly that Taeil couldn’t make out their face. They spoke softly… “Moon Taeil...Born June 14, 1994...Died October 22, 2018.”

Taeil sobbed then. “Please, is there any way you can save me?”

The angel sighed. “My poor child...You’ve been wronged. I want to give you the opportunity to seek justice...And once you have seeked justice and found peace, you can ascend into Heaven and join us. Our Heavenly Father awaits you.”

Before Taeil could respond, he became a ghost. He manifested into another town he couldn’t recognize. It was the city of Mystic. Jaehyun lived a life of luxury and terrorized the new city with his gang. And who reigned right beside him in a God-awful bubblegum pink wig?

The woman he’d loved and planned to propose to: Lexa.

Lexa played around with the buttons on Jaehyun’s designed shirt as she quietly thanked him for killing Taeil. And Jaehyun murmured back a thank you for giving him the idea and for suggesting a good hiding place for his remains.

Taeil felt sick to his stomach. The love he felt for Lexa had quickly shifted into hatred. And Taeil wanted revenge. He wanted to take them both down. But how, he wondered.

It took him a few more months to figure out how exactly he could enact revenge on them. Haunting them for a few weeks was a thrill but he wanted Jaehyun behind bars. And Lexa? Well, Taeil just wanted her to drown in guilt.

And then, Taeil found Sinema, a supernatural hub in the seemingly typical town of Mystic. Taeil struck a deal with the vampires to help them dig up his body. They in turn compelled the police to find his remains and track down Jaehyun.

Taeil owed the vampires a few months of haunting humans who had deceived them when they were once humans. So both parties were happy.

Taeil decided to spare Lexa from prison. Instead, her family, her friends, and everyone from Luna shunned her for having a hand in Taeil’s murder. Although she was never charged, she was as good as guilty as Jaehyun and his men.

Lexa remained in Mystic in a run-down apartment, barely making ends meet. The luxuries she was able to afford before, because of Taeil and then because of Jaehyun, were no longer accessible to her so she lived a life full of resentment.

But Taeil visited her many nights to remind her that more than anything, she should’ve felt guilt and remorse for what she’d done to him.

How she convinced him that he’d found happiness in her. How she made him out to be a fool. And how she discarded him like a piece of trash.

Lexa’s mind slowly unraveled over time and the guilt slowly consumed her each time.

Taeil ate it all up. This felt like justice and he didn’t want to ascend just yet. He wanted Lexa to get on her knees and pray to God for forgiveness for what she’d done to Taeil.

But that day hadn’t come. So Taeil frequented her apartment at night...Having Lexa think she dreamed of him as she slept.

One late Saturday night...going into Sunday morning, Taeil waited with you at the bench for your Uber to arrive to take you back to your dorm. Sometimes he accompanied you to the dorm and talked to you. You’d have to pretend you were on the phone so your Uber driver didn’t think you were talking to an imaginary friend.

Tonight, though, he wouldn’t be taking you home.

You asked, “Are you going to see her now?”

Taeil froze. “What?”

You wondered aloud, “Lexa...Do you haunt her on the weekends too?”

“Not recently, actually...I’ve been seeing her less.”

You smiled. “Taeil, that’s great. It means you’re getting over her.”

Taeil glared. “I don’t need to get over her. I despise her.”

Your smile vanished. “I know that. It’s just-”

He shot back, “Just what?”

You looked down at your hands and played with your fingers. “It’s just...You’ve sought justice...Jaehyun is rotting in a jail cell...Lexa is guilty over what she’s done...And...I hate to say this...But I think if you stop going to see her...There’s a chance you can finally ascend.”

He looked taken aback at your words. “I can ascend whenever I want.”

You lifted an eyebrow. “Really?”

Taeil looked even more annoyed as he sneered. “Absolutely. Excuse me for wanting to spend a little more time with you before I leave forever.”

His words infuriated you. “Taeil, you...I’m not the reason you want to stay...You’re hung up on your ex. Even if it’s not in the romantic sense...You’re fixated on terrorizing her until what? She begs for forgiveness?”

“And what the hell is wrong with that?”

“Taeil, you’re meant to find peace. You have to let her go.”

“Well, y/n, thank you for your opinion. I never asked for it but it’s certainly never stopped you...Have a safe trip back to your dorm.”

“Fine! Manifest yourself back to me when you get a grip.” You crossed your arms around your chest in anger. He was unbelievable. You were right. He just wouldn’t let go. He wouldn’t give up on seeing that...that wretched bitch.

Why did you let this piss you off so much and why were you overstepping...You had no right…

Perhaps it was because you’d fallen for Taeil and seeing him jeopardize his fate over this woman infuriated you like nothing else had.

The full moon was out that night and you couldn’t help but yell in fury at the sky.

Someone crept up behind you and with his claws, he scratched deeply into your collarbone. “Hey, what the fuck?!”

You turned around to find a werewolf before you. It was a literal wolf on two legs. His muscles protruded like that of a man’s but they were so large...You knew he could easily snap your neck with a quick movement of his hands. His tawny coat shined in the moonlight. His brown eyes watched you, expectantly.

You were about to get on your knees and beg for mercy.

You saw a group of people lingering beside the werewolf. You remembered them. They were a part of Yuta’s pack.

“Yuta?” You finally connected the dots and realized the wolf who scratched you was Yuta. You hadn’t seen him since that first time.

He had been a werewolf, after all. But why had he transformed? Why was he here? Why had he done this to you?

You winced slightly at the scrapes and monitored them as they quickly vanished. You couldn’t believe your eyes.

Yuta’s fur vanished as he transformed back into his human self. He was shirtless but his pair of jeans remained on. “Y/n, I wanted to confirm something…”

You frowned. “What?”

“The scratch of the alpha is borderline lethal to any outsider of the pack...So any pack member or...descendant of that pack member can heal from his bite…”

You laughed nervously, confused. You wanted to get the hell out of here. Where the bloody hell was your Uber? “Uh...That’s interesting, I guess.”

“Can’t you see, y/n? I’m the alpha of the Nakamoto clan. You’ve healed from my scratches...Which means…”

You demanded, “What does it mean?”  

“It means you are a descendant of this clan, y/n…”

You shook your head. “No...That’s...Impossible. I’m not a werewolf…”

“You were adopted at five months, y/n...Your parents perished in a war against the vampires...Your parents led normal lives as humans for as long as they could...Much to the disappointment of my father.”

“Yuta, you don’t know what you’re saying…”

“I do, y/n. The pack and I have uncovered everything about you and your family history. You’re a werewolf. An unawakened one.”

“No…”

“Explain how your bite healed. The only way you could enter Sinema of your own accord is if you possessed supernatural blood. And werewolf blood is as supernatural as it gets.”

“Yuta, please, you’ve got the wrong person...I don’t know why you bit me and why it healed. Maybe it’s some magic trick you pulled off to please your pack...I’ve had a shitty night so if you don’t mind, I’d like to go home,” you said, checking your phone for the arrival of your Uber. It was arriving.

“Y/n!”

The Uber pulled up and you turned to him. “Just leave me alone.”

___

You visited your parents the next day. You asked them about where they’d adopted you from. They’d always been very mum about the details.

“Someone told me something crazy the other day,” you said to them as the three of you shared dinner with your adopted younger siblings.

Your parents both looked at each other, concerned.

“He said my biological parents were werewolves!” You laughed in disbelief. “How crazy is that?”

Your parents eyed each other again.

Your mom started, “Who is this man?”

“Mom, I believe the proper response is ‘That man is crazy. Where did he get that kind of story?’”

You knew your parents were hiding something and you wanted to hear the truth from them.

Your father scratched his neck as he took off his glasses. Your younger siblings all eyed each other uncomfortably.

“Why aren’t you guys saying anything?” You asked.

Your dad said, “Y/n...We hoped for you to never find out.”

You shook your head in disbelief. “Dad, you’re scaring me...Find out what?”

Your parents went on to tell you about the incidents you had when you turned eleven. After you’d had your first period, you began to experience terrible mood swings and throw tantrums left and right around the time the full moon occurred. And when you turned thirteen and the first full moon following your birthday occurred…

You’d attacked a neighbor who was walking their dog.

You’d grown teeth and hair all over your body that night. You’d become a wolf, according to your parents.

Once the night had ended, you’d transformed into a human again and fallen asleep.

Your neighbors never knew that it had been you. Your parents helped your attacked neighbor get to a hospital and they reported an animal attack in the neighborhood. Your neighbor couldn’t remember anything.

But her dog never forgot and hated you.

Your parents got a hold of the adoption agency and they had no information on your birth parents besides their names. Your parents then got in touch with a psychic, who referred them to a witch. They took you to the witch and she told them you were an unawakened werewolf. You were a fledgling. Unless you received the bite of an alpha werewolf and acquired your position in the pack, you were susceptible to these monthly full moon transformations and since you hadn’t been awakened, it would be even worse and dangerous for those around you. So the witch concocted a potion that would suppress your fledgling urges but it was critical that you consumed it each month.

Which explained why your parents were always so adamant for you to come home every month for dinner. They put the potion in your dinner. So you were able to suppress your urges up until this point.

Could this be the reason why you felt so unfulfilled? Because you never explored your true nature? Your parents never gave you the choice to control it.

Your parents had good intentions but you had the option to meet the pack all of these years...And you never knew.

You’d always felt like a part of you had been missing and your trip to Sinema had done the trick to lead you to the truth.

___

Back in your dorm and without having ingested the potion your parents had given, you’d only had a few days until the full moon. You were resolved to speak to Yuta.

You’d gotten out of the shower, letting out a shaky breath from all of the bundled up nerves you carried. You were shocked to find Taeil standing in your common room that you shared with your roommates. They were all away for the day.

“Taeil!” You started as you covered your towel more tightly around you.

“I heard,” Taeil started, worry etched all over his face, “If I could kill Yuta, I would…”

“Taeil, I’m going to him,” you started.

“What?” He asked.

“I’m going to be awakened by him.”

He looked at you in disbelief. “Y/n, what are you-”

“I’m an unawakened werewolf, Taeil. My biological parents were werewolves and if I don’t receive the official bite of the alpha, I’m going to suffer by the influence of the full moon.”

“Y/n, the full moon is in two weeks!”

“I know…” You said.

Taeil sighed. “Y/n, you have a chance to be away from the supernatural world. To avoid the dangers of these creatures. I know humans are terrible, deceitful, and cruel...But the supernatural doesn’t fare better. You didn’t grow up in this world. It could consume you and spit you right back out…”

You were resolved, though. You longed to explore more of the world and to embrace the part of you that had always been neglected. “Taeil, I’ve made my decision. My family has respected it. And I hope you will, too.”

A tear escaped Taeil’s eye. “Y/n, I’m so sorry. If I hadn’t left you alone…”

You shook your head as you wished to embrace him. “Taeil, this isn’t on you. This opened my eyes. My path is more defined now...Who knows what awaits me once I awaken? That’s for me to find out.”

Taeil extended his hand out and pretended to caress your face. “There’s nothing I can say to make you change your mind, is there?”

“No,” you said, as you leaned closer to his transparent hand.

He smiled weakly. “Y/n, I’ve thought a lot about it and you were right...I’ve given up on visiting Lexa.”

You opened your mouth wide. “Really?”

Taeil avoided your stare as he stared at the potted plant by the window. “I...wanted to stay longer but...we’re both meant to part ways...And I’m not happy...Terrorizing Lexa hasn’t given me any sense of fulfillment. Temporary pleasure? Yes...But I long to find that peace.”

You cried. “Taeil, I’m so happy to hear that. And you will find that peace, I promise you.”

“In the meantime, I’ll be by your side as you head into your next chapter.”

You smiled at him and didn’t realize your towel slipped to the floor.

“Y/n…” Taeil coughed as he quickly turned red and turned around.

“What?” You frowned.

Without looking at you, he pointed to the towel on the floor.

“Shit!” You exclaimed. But then, you watched Taeil...He was blushing…

“Did it hurt that much to look at my body, Taeil?” You asked, quietly.

“What?” He asked, confused.

“It’s okay...You can look…”

Taeil turned and was shocked to see you still unclothed.

You gave him a flirty smile. “I know we can’t touch...But it doesn’t mean we can’t have fun, right?”

You got onto your bed and slowly began to tease your clit and Taeil’s jaw nearly fell to the floor. He adored every inch of you as he scanned your body and worked his hardest to commit it all to memory.

You could see his member grow in his pants. He immediately gripped his gorgeous length and pleasured himself alongside you.

“I wish I could feel your heavenly cock on my clit…” You told him.

He grunted. “Heaven can wait...This is real paradise...Here with you.”

You muttered sweet nothings to each other and imagined that you made love to each other that day.

___

You and Taeil were more inseparable than before. Because you knew your days together were numbered.

The full moon arrived and Yuta had agreed that this was the ideal time for your initiation into his pack. You would be able to absorb the moon’s power as you transformed from Yuta’s bite.

Yuta invited you to his mansion in the woods not too far outside of town. His pack members were present and they’d arranged a massive bonfire at the center in honor of your awakening.

Taeil was right beside you, much to the chagrin of the rest of the pack members. But what could they do? Drag him out? When they couldn’t even lay a finger on him?

Yuta was dressed in his best tuxedo as he recited the pack’s code of conduct to you and welcomed you into their pack. He transformed into his wolf form and at the brightest the full moon had been, you’d taken on your fledgling form. You howled at the moon and became rabid. Yuta knew what he had to do.

Taeil watched you in concern but Yuta had sworn to protect you. For you would be one of his family soon enough. So Taeil had no choice but to trust him.

Yuta bit into your collarbone and your eyes shifted from their usual color and into a bright amber. You felt yourself regain consciousness and became aware of where you were.

“Y/n, do you know who I am?” Yuta asked.

You nodded.

Yuta continued, “Good. You are now a fully awakened werewolf. Harness your abilities with honor and know that you have a family in the Nakamoto clan forever.”

“Hear hear!” The pack members yelled out.

You’d reverted back into your human form through your own accord. You were shocked at how quickly you could turn back.

You ran over to Taeil and he beamed at you. “How do you feel?”

“I feel...whole...Fulfilled...I have no idea what will happen next but it’s a new kind of uncertainty...And I like it.”

Taeil said, “I’m glad, y/n…”

He started to pixelate before you and his voice began to fade.

Your smile faded. “Taeil?”

“I think God wanted me to stick around for this momentous occasion...Before he summoned me…”

You couldn’t help the tears that escaped you. “Taeil, I love you.”

He cried with you. “I love you, too. I will see you up there...Soon. I’d better be the first person you look up when you ascend, you hear me?”

You wrapped your arms around him and to your shock. To everyone’s shock at the party...You could feel Taeil. He was muscular and the warmth of his body was like the fuzziest blanket wrapped around you after the worst day. He felt wonderful. And you never wanted to let him go.

Taeil longed for the day he could feel your body around his...And it was only at this time when you two had to bid farewell when he could feel you against him. You were strong but at that moment, he held you tenderly. Like you would break at any second. Because this moment was the most fragile. It was fleeting. So you both soaked in the feeling of each other’s bodies as you held each other.

Taeil kissed you and you reciprocated. His lips felt just like you’d imagined them. Soft. Perfect against yours. His kiss was the euphoria you would treasure for the rest of your life.

You released each other.

“Goodbye, Moon,” you teased. You made a play at his last name. Since you were a werewolf now, you’d be highly influenced by the activity of the moon.

He joked back. “Goodbye, Wolfie. Don’t forget to howl at me once in a while. It’s kinda hot...” The cliche of werewolves howling at the moon was actually a common practice for them.

You shook your head and laughed as he faded away. You cried hard that night, missing him already.

Yuta and his pack comforted you as you cried. They celebrated you and they mourned with you. This pack had become your family.

___

Taeil finally ascended to Heaven. It was a lot like Earth but idealistic. Paradise had everything at his disposal. He could go to the movies and have an unlimited supply of Sour Patch Bats. He finally knew what they tasted like. He could get a foot massage whenever he felt like it. He could play his music and sing to his heart’s content. God was a big fan of Moon Taeil. 

But the thing he loved most was being able to look after the loved ones he left behind.

Now that Taeil had become an angel, he would accumulate power overtime in order to send blessings to the people he loved most.

Especially to you.

____

You’d gotten a better grip on your powers but you were still a long way from being Yuta’s right hand. You’d moved into one of Yuta’s apartment complexes that he owned. You were finishing up your last year of school, as well. Since you’d stabilized your powers, you could carry on with your day-to-day activities. It’s just nighttime that would be unaccounted for.

One day, Yuta visited you.

You greeted him as you welcomed him inside your spacious apartment. He sat down on your L-shaped couch in your living room as you gave him a glass of water. “To what do I owe the pleasure, boss?”

Yuta never visited his pack member’s homes unless it was important business. Usually, he summoned them to a common area, like one of his mansions in the city.

Yuta smiled. “I see you like your new place.”

You nodded. “It beats hearing my roommates screw their boyfriends every other night, I must admit.”

He laughed. “Well, I’m glad to hear that.”

“What’s up? You’re not usually one for small talk...Unless you want to sleep with them...And that girl isn’t here at the moment.” You knew about Yuta’s tumultuous relationship with Sinema’s manager.

Yuta blushed then. “You...Knock it off.”

You laughed heartily, then. You two had developed an older brother little sister relationship. Yuta was able to uncover more information about your parents and your extended family. He’d been extremely helpful during this time, providing financial support not only to you but your entire family.

When Yuta said the pack was a family, he really meant it.

Yuta was mulling over his next words and he gave you a solemn look. The light, breezy mood had quickly vanished.

The power the alpha held to control the room.

He said, “Y/n, prepare your things. The war is about to begin.”

[Fin...Or is it?]

Stay tuned for the next spooky story...

[ace-in-a-shopping-cart]

Detroit Evolution Character Studies.

If you haven’t seen the absolutely lovely Reed900 fan film Detroit Evolution by @/octopunkmedia, I highly recommend it. (This also contains spoilers for it so watch before reading this.) I’m not done with these character studies as I plan to do one more for both characters.

Essentially, these are scenes taken directly from the film where I wrote it out, action, words, and all, as well as tried to capture what I thought they would be feeling/thinking in those moments as a way of learning to write the character’s voices (or my version of them). Word Count: 2,345 TW: Cursing, blood/ injury/ death mention, brief mention of food.

Nines

Timestamp: 11:22

He carried the full coffee mug from the break room to Gavin’s desk, a spring in his steady step. Placing the mug down, he looked at Gavin, a challenge in his eyes.

Gavin looked up from his phone. “Thank god.”

Nines held back a sigh. “I hate you.”

“You love me.” Gavin sassed back.

Nines pushed at Gavin’s feet that were propped up on the desk. “Move your feet.” He listened to the small sound of surprise that came from the human and sat where the feet had been, waiting for Gavin to stop spinning. “Have you been reviewing the case?” He glanced at the inactive computer screen.

Gavin sat straighter in the chair and leaned forward. “You know me. When do I stop?” He pulled up the case file on his computer. “Our victim’s an AC900, right? That happens to be a model designed for athletics and endurance. So, her thirium pump is one of the most valuable out there.”

Nines tilted his head. “You think the killer could have black market motivations?”

“You can’t rule it out. Not with how advanced that part is. So, once I made that genius deduction, I went through a list of my contacts in the android parts market and they got back to me with some common drop sites for black market deals.”

Nines was wary of where this was going, his LED circling to yellow. “Contacts? There are black market dealers who collude with the DPD?”

Gavin sat back, posture relaxed. “They give me intel, I stay off their back.”

“That doesn’t seem legal.” it defied his sense of logic to work with criminals to catch other criminals, even if the method had some merit.

Gavin spun his chair to face him, voice becoming defensive. “Okay, Nines. Sometimes you gotta bend the rules if you want to catch a bigger fuckin’ fish, alright? I know it’s not your protocol or whatever but, that’s why you got me.” He took a sip of his coffee, looking pleased with himself.

Nines leaned on his hand. “How would I ever succeed without your obstinance and rule breaking?” Sarcasm was something he’d mastered soon after deviating and used often with Gavin.

Gavin set his mug down, crossing his hands over his lap. “Yeah, you got a real funny way of saying ‘experience and wisdom’.”

“Wisdom?” Nines almost scoffed. “Gavin, I have a database in my brain containing over two hundred thousand words in the English language and I believe you found the one that least applies to yourself.”

Gavin looked up at him. “Shuuuut the fuck up.” He reached forward to tap his keyboard, bringing their attention back to the case. “Look, if we can intercept some dealers and bring ‘em in, we’ll find out if our victim’s thirium pump has been making the rounds. That could lead us straight to the killer.” He looked at Nines for his opinion.

Nines hummed. “It’s a good start, but waiting for a dealer to cross our path could mean it could take weeks to find a lead.” His LED went to blue as he thought it over.

“Thought of that too, smartass. There are definitely some sites where black market activity is hot.” He pointed at the screen and Nines turned to look. “These apartments out in Ferndale and Slide Docks-” he moved to point at another part of the map on the screen. “-here.”

Nines considered the information and screen. “We’ll need to split up to cover both.”

“Nah, you won’t have to miss me.” He gestured to the new detective with his mug. “We’ll get Chris on one of them while we go to the other.”

Nines looked at Chris, who seemed to have a lot on his mind. “He’s been quiet, since Jericho.”

Gavin busied himself with gathering his things. “Okay. Maybe work will take his mind off of it.”

Nines hummed, watching him. “Burying troubles in work is your usual approach.”

Gavin stood and rounded his chair, blowing a kiss to Nines sarcastically. Nines turned his head in time to notice Gavin flip him off behind Nines’ back. He smiled at the antics and followed the detective.

Nines

Timestamp: 54:00

‘I need you to come back to me, Nines.’

Nines could hear Gavin, even as he was trying to search every line of his code for a way to fix this corruption.

‘You are my partner. Come back to me, Nines.’

Nines heard a glitch in the garden before Gavin’s voice spoke again, closer this time, different. “Hey, tin can.”

He looked up to see his simulation of Gavin standing there. Calling his name, Nines ran over to him. He said his name again as he tried to hold him, only to be met with loose pixels and glitching code. He took a step back, anger in his voice. “What did she do to you?”

Gavin’s voice was distorted and his pixels were out of sync. “Code’s all buggy from Ada. You gotta delete me. Delete all of this, start from scratch.”

“Delete it?” Nines felt panic rise in him at that. “No, I can’t do that. This is where I process everything. I can’t just erase it.”

“You can rebuild another one after.” Gavin looked up into the trees. “Doesn’t even have to be a garden. Hell, make it a theme park, I don’t know.” He looked back at Nines.

“I can’t rebuild you.” His voice softened. Nines had spent pain-staking hours programming Gavin’s code and making him as close to the real thing as possible and now he was being told to delete it all? He wanted nothing more than to just hold Gavin.

“Look. You don’t have to give a shit about me. It’s all just fucking fantasy, Nines. You got the real thing up there. And the only way to get back there is to let go of all of this.”

‘Come back to me, Nines.’

The Gavin standing before him glitched again and Nines nodded slightly. “Okay.” He moved away, unable to look at him as he did this.

‘I need you. I need you to come back to me, Nines.’

With the real Gavin’s voice echoing in his ears, Nines carefully and ruthlessly tore down every line of code he had to. Thoughts of the past few days, images of his friends and Gavin, tumbled through his mind as he destroyed his sanctuary, the place he went to relax and to process and feel safe. A place that had been tainted by Ada’s forced entrance.

As soon as the last zero was deleted, Nines regained full control of himself.

Gavin

Timestamp: 24:30

Gavin grunted as another fist connected with his face, breaking his nose. Faintly he heard a voice call his name. A hand reached out but instead of a punch- He jolted awake, hands reaching to fight off his attacker, whoever's hands were now on his shoulders, fighting him back. Nines’ voice broke through the fog of sleep and Gavin stared at him, calming down just a bit as he found one of Nines’ hands on his chest, the other holding his right wrist gently. Nines gave one more, comforting, “”it’s not real, you’re safe,” before releasing Gavin and standing up.

Gavin shifted, moving to sit up against his headboard as he tried to calm his breathing. He shifted the pillows behind him, all too aware of Nines’ concerned gaze.

When his breathing was slower, Gavin spoke. “What- What’re you still doing here?” He knew Nines had mentioned reviewing case files but thought he would have left, bored of Gavin. Most did.

“I stayed to review our case files.” Nines’ voice was soft, as if Gavin were a deer that would startle at a too-loud sound. “I heard you struggling.” He moved away from the bed a step or two. “I’ll go get you some water.”

Gavin shifted positions, shaking his head. “No, no, no, I”m fine. I’m fine.” If he repeated it enough, maybe he’d believe it himself. He cursed a few times, softly, as he tried to find a comfortable position.

Nines sat back down on the edge of the bed. Gavin cursed again, the loudest sound in the room being his still heavy breathing. He leaned his head back against the wall, too exhausted to care. “Guess now you know why I don’t sleep.”

“What were you dreaming about?” Gavin was grateful for the lack of judgement in Nines’ voice.

Gavin dropped his head down, shaking it as he stared at his sheets. “Nothing. I don’t even remember.” Not a complete lie, it was reduced to fear and feelings and flashes of memory now, so distorted from what it once was. “Probably bore you, if I did.”

There was a small smile in Nines’ voice, still soft but now holding a note of affection. “Learning more about you would never bore me, Gavin.”  Gavin didn’t quite believe him and Nines kept talking. “Would you like me to stay with you? Research shows that physical touch is good for humans, it releases serotonin which has a calming effect-”

Gavin’s skin crawled at the thought of touch and he began protesting as Nines continued. “-I think that-” Nines heard his protests and stopped.

“No.” Gavin shook his head, breathing almost under control. “I’ll take my chances with the cat.”

“Okay.” Nines stood. “I’ll be in the living room if you need me.” He turned and began to walk to the door.

Before Nines could reach it, Gavin spoke. “It was about this one night.” He looked up at Nines, wondering if the android knew the level of trust Gavin was showing. “It just makes me feel like I’m back there.”

He paused as Nines came back to sit on the side of the bed where he’d been before.

He took a deep breath. “I was a dumb kid. Dropped out of high school, fell in with some shitheads dealing red ice for a little while. I just . . . I just couldn’t do it. I stopped. And they fucked me up, kicked me out. I’m wandering around the streets of Detroit, bloodied to shit, nowhere to go. Fowler found me. He was on patrol. He just, put me in his car, drove me to a diner. Bought me coffee. Told me I could intern at the DPD for a little while. Have something to do, you know.”

Nines listened patiently, only commenting at the end. “Sounds like a happy ending. Why is it a nightmare?”

Gavin’s eyes turned haunted. “‘Cause every time it replays in my head, he doesn’t show. And I just die out there. Bleeding in the fucking snow and no one cares.”

Nines stood, looking like he was prepared to go back to the living room. “Are you sure you don’t want me to stay with you?”

Gavin looked up at him, his face illuminated by the light of the window, and didn’t trust himself to speak. Instead, he just slid over and hoped he understood.

Nines did, his LED glowing yellow in the dark room  as he moved to sit where Gavin had been. He gingerly turned so his cloth-covered back was toward Gavin. The human appreciated the gesture, feeling comfortable and vulnerable enough to extend his hand, palm up, to Nines. The android carefully took it, his synthetic skin retracting but Gavin brushed that off as him offering less skinship.

Gavin’s breathing stuttered slightly but he slowly placed his head on Nines’ shoulder blade and shoulder. He felt Nines rest his head on Gavin’s, the android’s thumb running over the back of the human’s hand.

“If you tell anyone about this, I’ll have you scrapped for parts.” There was no bite to Gavin’s words.

Nines shook his head. “Empty promises,” he said, a smile in his voice.

Gavin

Timestamp: 57:19

��I think I can help with that.” Nines’ voice came from the doorway.

Chris called his name while Gavin looked on in disbelief. Tina stood by Nines, Gavin was vaguely aware of her trying to get Chris to leave Gavin and Nines alone but he only had eyes for the android.

Nines stepped into the room as the two left. “Distracting yourself with work at two A.M.? Now I know you missed me.”

Gavin’s shock wore off at the playful banter. “You undead asshole. How did you wake up?”

They both approached, almost meeting in the middle of the room, as Nines spoke. “I heard you. Your voice broke through.”

Gavin backed up a few steps even as Nines continued advancing. “Goddammit. You mean you- you- you heard everything I said?”

Nines smiled. “Every word. A force you can’t live without?”

“I . . . hate you.” There was barely any force in his words.

Nines finally reached him, that soft smile still on his face as understanding shone in his eyes. “You love me.”

Gavin looked up at him and their eyes met. He looked down to see Nines’ skin retract on his hand, gently taking it into his own hands. Nines’ other hand came up to cup Gavin’s cheek and draw his gaze back to his face. Gavin closed his eyes, getting used to such tender touches, before opening them and looking at Nines. Then, they were kissing, both putting the emotions they couldn’t put to words into it.

When they broke apart, Gavin panted for a moment before speaking. “What dipshit programmed you to do that?”

Nines laughed, sounding just as out of breath as Gavin felt. “I’m the most advanced android ever made, detective.”

Gavin threw his head back dramatically, Nines’ hand sliding down to his neck. “Oh, you are such a fucking prick.”

“Takes one to know one.” Nines snarked back.

Gavin sniffed, finally noticing what Nines was wearing. “This is my jacket?”

“Yeah, you left it at CyberLife. They didn’t keep my clothes.” He laughed and looked around. “I see you’ve been making progress without me.”

“Yeah, uh. Guess we’ve got some catching up to do.”

Nines didn’t respond, simply leaned down for another kiss.

[bluebellhairpin]

No More

Fantasy AU!Levi Ackerman X Fem!Reader

Part One - No Feelin’ - Part Three - No Regrets 

A/N: SO I wrote a piece for a Discord Event and ummm I wrote a part two? instead of anything else I have backed up? In my drafts? And ask box? Oopsie? - Nemo

Summary: A year past, and word from you has been scarce to none. After leaving Levi high and dry last time, he’d been preparing for your return ever since. What he didn’t expect was to see you so suddenly - sitting atop the throne he was supposed to protect. 

Warnings: Violence. Language. Character Death. Blood (I feel I should emphasise this one, it’s... gorey. For me). Mentions of rape. Slight Misogyny. More of my bad poetry. MC says Zeke has a small pp. 

Listening to: ‘MORE’ by K/DA (slowed) - ‘When I go it’s for gold yeah, they cool but I’m cold. I don’t fit in the mold, I’m a rebel.’ 

Series Masterlist

Masterlist 

There was something about the eerie silence that followed your first ‘visit’ that set Levi on edge. 

He remembered how quiet you were as his subordinate. How you stood back and watched when you could, but managed to surprise everyone when you had to get in and get dirty like all those others training to be a knight. He wondered what he could’ve done to change things, to have stopped you from becoming that monster he fought in the throne room. 

He knew there was nothing he could do about that now, but something about those last words you spoke to him - ‘find your advantage’ - they just stuck with him. 

He knew the sword he was given was special. That it had abilities that no human blacksmith could’ve given it. It gave him strength. Immunity. It could heal, rebuild, and it gave him the ability to endure. Yours was not like that.

The people the King put in charge of studying it said it was destructive. That everyone who tried to wield it in the past had suffered nothing but pain, and in trying to control the power it held they’d only succeeded in killing themselves. 

Levi knew that you were not like them. Not before. Not a year ago. He knew, not now either. 

“You’re very diligent in welcoming me back, Little Captain.” 

And how he hated it. 

He was left frozen in shock, watching you as you sat atop the throne - legs crossed, the fingers of one hand tangled in the hair of the old king’s body-less head, while the other held that damn sword. The crimson of his blood matched your tainted skin, dribbling down your arms to match your bright veins, and the color of your dreaded blade. 

It was like the color of corruption was red, and you were so soaked in it that it stained the floor. With that thought he could almost fool himself into thinking it wasn’t the king’s blood at all.

Except for the stench of it. It was like he was punched in the face with the reek.  

“Oh don’t look so surprised,” you said, tutting at him and waving the kings head in his direction, “I thought you would’ve been preparing for my return.” 

“You weren’t supposed to come back.” 

“Oh, but the king was sitting so nicely on his throne just then, I had to.” You said, letting the head drop to the floor. It rolled down the stairs, meeting it’s limp and pale counterpart. “Can you just imagine my joy when he was here to welcome me with a pretty little concubine between his legs. I couldn’t help myself!” 

“You’re insane!” he said, taking his sword in his hand and rushing up the stairs to be met with the tip of your sword at his throat.

“Ah ah,” you said, “You pledged your life to the crown, to serve and protect. I killed the old king, now the crown is mine.” 

He grit his teeth, cursing himself for not noticing. For not being fast enough. Then, and now. 

“Bow. To your new Queen.”

Levi would never admit how easily he obeyed you.

Despite knowing he had the power to over-power you, he didn’t dare use it. 

The old King - Fritz - had not been laid to rest. As far as he knew you had him turned to garden mulch. Him and anyone who decided you weren’t fit to wear the crown. 

He had to say, the rebellion that broke out once your position was made public - from those that wanted you gone, and those who thought that meant they could break the law because you did - was silenced much quicker than he’d seen a rebellion be silenced in his whole life. 

You slaughtered those who stood at the castles gate, pushing those who wanted you gone with a heel to the back of their heads. They who rebelled against you had a choice - die like those who banged on the drawbridge, and have their blood and innards join the muck in the moat, or submit like the knights. 

Then you took to the streets and made those who deserved it pay back what they had taken. If they stole from a market stall, they returned with interest. If they decided to rape, their manhood was taken. If they decided to kill, they paid with their own lives in turn. 

So despite your aloof yet demanding nature, your lack of empathy, and love of - putting it lightly - a hunt, you made peace reign over the kingdom. That was something all the knights could admit.

“She’s kinda hot though.” His eyes snapped over to a newer knight, Flotch, who was muttering to Jean, who was in turn doing a very good job of ignoring him. “You know, if you take away the creepy eyes, and those nasty veins on her arms. I’d tap that.” 

He had to resist from groaning. Of course there’d be people lewding their new ruler - a murderous one no less - and one of such people had to be one of his subordinates. 

“Seriously though, look -”

“- Watch your tongue, young one.” A voice said, and Levi did a doubletake to find you behind Flotch with a clawed hand around his throat. “Diminish me to a piece of flesh like that again and I’ll brand your forehead with a big fat ‘M’.”

“W-what’s that supposed to mean?” he slurred, his own grip now ghosting over yours.

“‘Misogynist’.” you hissed, tightening your grip on his throat before withdrawing, leaving dripping red marks behind. He stood still for a few short moments, then doubled-over, clutching his neck and letting out garbled noises of pain. 

“Serves him right.” Jean said, stepping past Levi and over Flotch’s legs to follow you as you walked away. 

“Something needs to be done about him.” you mused. 

“I agree. For once.” Levi said, stepping to his side to face you before mumbling an addition, “I bet his ass looks as hairy as an ape.” You barked out a laugh - loud, and as smooth as whiskey.

“That would account for the little monkey he’s hiding in his basement.” you said, leaning down to hush the comment in his ear. Levi could tell that there wasn’t an actual monkey, nor a basement, and a rushed glance down Zeke’s body also told him it wasn’t entirely true, however you had been everything but subtle about anything anymore. 

“Do you want war?” Zeke asked, covered eyes narrowing over at you. You tutted him, reminding Levi about the time you directed such an action at him - taunting with his failure of protecting the old king. 

“Would you go to war over a dick joke?” 

He wouldn’t. That Levi knew. No one was petty or childish enough to go to war with another whole-ass country just because it’s ruler said your dick was small. But Zeke was unpredictable. 

“I’d advise against it, personally.” you said, tapping your nails along the oak table, “It’s so mediocre. If I were to go to war with you I’d do something much more grand.” 

“Like what?” 

You smiled, wide and wicked, and Levi was reminded again of who you were. You’d beheaded the old king like he was just an unneeded piece of paper. You’d painted the castle moat red. Despite the good that was no doubt still there - somewhere - you were still very much evil. 

You were still corrupt. 

You raised a hand, performing a universal signal that meant to wait, and then a man came in. Huffing and sweaty, with eyes wide and broken. 

“Ze- you highne- Sir.” 

“- What?” Zeke asked, turning in his chair. Clearly unimpressed.

“Our capital. They… She attacked it!” Zeke turned back around, now looking much angrier.

“What?”

“Oh, it’s nothing major.” You said, waving him off as if he were just a child complaining about his socks not matching. “But your place of residence might have a few scorch marks now.” 

Zeke stood abruptly, drawing his sword, and causing a chain reaction. You mirrored him, drawing your own - abhit longer and glowing red in aggression. Levi drew his, as did the other guards, Erwin and Miche. And the two with Zeke drew theirs as well. 

There wasn’t a single person in the room that didn’t have a sword on them, and not even Levi could say he wasn’t on edge. But you? You just laughed, lowering your weapon.

“Okay, this is stupid. Let’s just -” 

“If you call burning my city ‘stupid’, then I’d love to know what you’d call me lathering your streets in your blood.” 

“Oh,” you cooed, “Looks like I struck a nerve. Or maybe you’re on your period?” 

“Quiet!” He yelled, pushing his sword closer to you. “Or do you want me to slice off your tongue.”

“I’d like to see you try.”

He tried. 

And much like anyone else who crossed your path, he was lucky to have just left with his tail between his legs. However, him being Zeke, had to leave behind something to be remembered by. 

This particular time it was in the form of a huge gash, spanning across your shoulder and up your neck. 

Despite your all-powerful nature, the power your sword gave you was not one that could heal. It took what it was given, and it corrupted it. So even if all Zeke gave you was a scratch, the power of your sword meant it took that scratch, and made it into a cut. Oozing blood, and pulsating with a pain that made you wince with every heartbeat. 

You skulked away towards your chambers, a bottle of alcohol in your hand, and closed the door behind you. 

Levi knew that it could very well kill you. That’s what you were warned of. It would give the kingdom a chance to regain a sane ruler. It would be good if you died. 

‘From chaos to healing, is where to gain the sealing; 

Where they be kneeling, you’ll have no feeling.’ 

Those were the words you told him the first time you met. But later, after you started ruling and he became your own personal guard, you told him there was more. There were ruins. Books. A whole civilization even. Those two phrases were just a part of a whole. A whole that you knew. 

‘The one who stops the war, to try and reach the core;

Along the gentle shore, they will gain more.’

There was more to that sword than just corruption, and there was more to his sword than just healing. 

Leaning against the wall outside your room, he took his sword in his hands, watching as the symbols along it’s blade glowed up at him from the interaction. 

He could save you, but would it be worth it? 

[gurneyhallecks]

PAPERCLIPS | a Javi Peña x reader fic

rating: T for dramatic elements; will change to M in future parts

summary: You think your crush on Javi goes unnoticed - until Steve and Connie take matters into their own hands. 

a/n: ive had this story idea in my head for months and im so glad it’s finally out of my head and actually WRITTEN!! there will be a part two for sure, and others if i feel inspired!!

Paperclips

Being Javier Peña’s neighbor isn’t the worst thing to happen to you. Being a secretary at the DEA office is. Seeing Agent Javier Fucking Peña every day of the week is slowing killing you. His cute little ass in those tight ass jeans. He knows what he’s doing, and you hate him for it. The suits are just as bad. Displaying his broad shoulders, showing off his sharp jaw. You want nothing more than to yank him to your level by one of his ties and kiss him harshly. Yeah. You hate him.

But you won’t do anything about this hopeless crush. You haven’t done anything for weeks.

Your desk sits up higher, you look down at the boys from your perch. Javi’s desk faces away from you, which allows you to stare at the back of his head (and ass) all day. Every once and a while you get lucky and see his face when he leaves his desk to go out in the field, or when he comes into work in the mornings. He’ll turn and offer a nod or a simple wave good morning.

You are friendly acquaintances. You’ve spoken on occasion at the dreaded office parties. The only reason you ever have gone to those are the free food and the small chance to see him.

Your staring at the back of his head is the most you do lately, your crush too strong to get up the nerve to ask him for coffee. Luckily, he can’t see you pine away for him.

But unbeknownst to you, there’s a watchful pair of eyes that have seen your longing gazes at the back of Javi’s head.

One Steve Murphy.

He’s seen every glance. Every flustered look cross your face. He doesn’t want to pry, not at first. But then he remembers how his buddies set him up with Connie. And hell, Javi could use someone nice like you in his life. Someone less dangerous to get involved with than communist informants.

Steve’s told Connie every detail, it’s much more entertaining to discuss then the heavy topic of death and drug lords. Connie’s only concern is the office romance drama, but she’s your friend. And she wants the same thing for you – Javi is a good man. And being neighbors with you, she’s also seen the looks you’ve given as Javi walks down the hallway.

They are planning more on how to get you with Javi than you are.

So far, your plan is hoping he’ll need a paperclip and will come ask you for one. And then suddenly ask you to coffee and then take you back to his place and-

Oh shit.

Javi’s wearing a blue shirt today, your favorite. And you might have let your eyes linger a little too long. And you’ve just made eye contact with Steve. He quirks a brow at you, and a small smirk appears on his lips. His piercing gaze just past Javi makes his partner curious, and the object of your affections turns his head in your direction.

When Javi’s eyes meet yours, you quickly avert your gaze. Trying to busy yourself with something important. Which consists mainly of organizing your already organized desk.

Javi is none the wiser, he shrugs and goes back to work. But Steve, he saw all that he needed to see.

You spend the rest of the day with your head down. You’ve had enough embarrassment for one day. It pains you that you’re missing out on the blue shirt though.

Normally after work you come up with some excuse to try and say hi and bye to Javi on his way out. He almost never goes straight to his apartment after office hours because he’s typically working out in streets. It’s your small chance to get some form of interaction with him.

Tonight though, you get out of there as soon as possible. It kills you to leave, you can hear Javi and Steve laughing at their desks. You want to turn around and see that smile you dream of.

So instead, you get out and head home.

You look forward to a quiet evening. You need a distraction. Something, anything to keep your mind off of him. Which only seems to make you think about him even more.

It’s getting later and the wine in your system has you feeling warm. There’s a warm buzzed feeling that spreads over your body and settles between your legs.

Maybe the wine wasn’t such a good idea. And you’re being ridiculous. So, Steve saw you looking at Javi. Is that a crime? Javi is handsome. Most women in the office notice him, even the married ones get a little smile on their face when he walks by.

It’s more than that. Having your crush discovered isn’t the end of the world.

Maybe you know that if Javi was interested he would have done something by now. Maybe you know that if Steve tells Javi about your crush that something will happen. Or that something won’t.

You want to get over this crush, but all you can think about is the arousal between your legs. You’ve seen him bring women home, but it’s been some time. That’s given you a false hope you think. Regardless, you know he’s a good lover. Thin walls.

You ache.

Those nights when he’s brought a woman home have been awful. You don’t listen on purpose, and more often than not you wish you couldn’t hear. Couldn’t hear women scream out his name, wishing it were you crying out his name into the dark.

On top of all that, you know that most times when he brings someone home, it’s been a bad day for him. He brings a prostitute home to ease his sorrows with the high of a release. You want to be there for him not just sexually, but emotionally. Living next to him isn’t the worst thing, but not being able to help him when you’ve seen the weight he carries is.

You’ll see him at work the next morning and try not to pretend you didn’t hear the headboard thwacking and how much you wish it were you.

Yeah. That wine wasn’t a good idea.

You’ve created a fantasy which you entertain, maybe it’s wrong but right now the wine is talking. Your fingers tease yourself and you’re close to the edge when you hear a rapid knock on the door.

Feeling flushed and disoriented, you quickly tug your pants back on and hurry to open your door.

You’re met with the sight of a woman, obviously drunk.

“Is Javi here?” she laughs twirling her hair with her fingers. You feel sick.

“You have the wrong apartment,” you tell her and point to Javi’s front door across the hall.

Disrupted by the noise, Javi’s door opens. His eyes widen in slight shock at seeing the two of you talking. He pushes his door open, and this other woman walks past him into his place. His eyes flick up to you in a silent apology and he closes the door behind him with a click.

The silence in the hallway is deafening. You stand in your doorway in disbelief. You can hear muffled voices across the hall, and you slam your door behind you in anger. You wince at the slam, then you sink down to the floor. Tears fall from your eyes, who were you kidding?

You get no sleep that night, and every sound that drifts over from his apartment to yours fills you with dread. You’ve heard nothing sexual in nature, but that doesn’t make you feel any better.

You don’t even want to go to work. You don’t want to see him. You’re mad at him, even though you’re actually mad at yourself.

Most of the day goes by before you really get a chance to see him. And for that you are grateful.

You smell his cologne before you see him, and his tall frame hovers by your desk. His voice comes out gentle and raspy.

“I’m sorry about last night,” he starts. A small part of you hopes he’ll apologize for what it looked like, apologize for hurting you. “I’m sorry she disrupted your night.”

Oh.

“Thanks,” is your weak reply. You can’t even bear to look up at him. Shit, he smells really good too. He almost never comes up to your desk. And now that he’s here, you just want him to go away.

“Javi, I-“ you manage to look up at him. And you don’t have a clue what you’re gonna say. His eyebrows raise as he’s ready to listen to what you have to say.

“Great!” You hear Steve’s voice cut through. “I’m glad I got you both together!” he claps his hand on Javi’s shoulder. “Connie and I are having a little get together tonight, and we want you both to come! Be there at 7!” he squeezes Javi’s shoulder and gives you a nod and leave before you can tell him no.

Javi shakes his head but gives you a soft smile. “Connie’s cooking isn’t that bad,” he jokes getting a laugh from you. Even though you curse yourself for laughing, you’re still mad. But when you see him smile at your laugh, you’re not….completely mad.

You spend the rest of the day and afternoon panicking about what to wear. Who else was going to be at this “get together”?

You can only assume it’s a casual thing, but still. Knowing Javi will be there has your insides churning.

You arrive early to help Connie, and to compose yourself. You’re helping her to set the table when Javi walks in. He gives a polite nod, and Steve is quick to greet him with a beer.

You flush, and Connie sees you actively trying to avoid any looks. She gives you a gentle nudge with her elbow, getting you to look up at her.

“It’s alright,” she whispers. “He’s into you.” She looks over at the boys in the small living area. Javi’s shrugged his jacket and is sitting with Steve, one of them laughs at a joke.

You nod your head ‘no.’

“He isn’t,” you tell her with a small shrug. “Is this all that’s coming?” you ask trying to change the subject. It dawns on you then that this is a setup, a double date. You start to panic.

“Hey,” Connie’s words are soft but firm, “it’s just dinner.”

She’s right, and you know she is. But you’re not sure if you can handle looking at him. All you can think about is the woman who came knocking on your door last night and him taking her in. What else would she have been there for other than to get a little taste of Javier Peña?

It’s hard to avoid those big brown eyes when he’s sitting directly across from you at the table. The conversation is light and humorous. But the way Javi is looking at you, it’s as if he knows something. Like he can read your mind.

“Dessert?” Connie’s cheery voice tears you from your thoughts.

“I’ll help,” you tell her. You need air, you feel like you’re suffocating under his glances.

“I’d say it’s going well!” she giggles once the two of you are out of earshot in the kitchen.

“How can you even tell?” you groan. “He’s not into me Connie.”

“I don’t know, he’s been making eyes at you across the table.”

“Connie,” you hiss. “He is not into me. He brought home some woman last night. Why the hell would he be into me?”

“How do you know-“

“I know. I know!” you hiss sharply trying to keep your voice down. “He brings those women home for a fuck, I know I’ve heard! And I will NEVER be one of those women.”

And not that you want to necessarily be one of them, that he fucks only – but-

“He doesn’t want me.”

“Who said that?” Javi’s voice has you turn in the little kitchen. You almost drop the plate in your hands. Connie and Steve exchange a look. Your eyes are fixed on Javi. You wish the earth would swallow you whole.

Embarrassed and upset, tears start to well up in your eyes.

“C’mon,” Javi offers you his hand. Your arms are crossed tight against your chest, but at the softness of his voice you relax and take his hand. He guides you out of the apartment, and you turn to Connie – she gives you a smile and a nod saying, “it’s ok.”

So, you follow Javi. He guides you down the hall to his apartment. He pats his pocket but doesn’t feel his keys.

“Shit,” he laughs, “they’re in my jacket pocket-“

“We can go in mine,” you reply pulling out your keys and open your apartment door.

You’re not entirely sure what is happening, but you open the door and he follows behind.

“I didn’t bring her home for sex,” Javi tells you the moment the door closes behind him. “She’s an informant, she only pretended to be drunk so no one would be suspicious. Her idea, not mine.”

“So, you know?” your voice hesitant.

“Know what?” he leans against your kitchen counter. Your arms have crossed against your chest again.

“Know how I feel?” your face heats up.

“Yeah,” he chuckles softly. “I could feel your eyes burning the back of my head, and my ass,” he says out of the corner of his mouth. He gives a gentle wink, his eyes bright and eyebrows lifted.

You bury your face in your hands, “was I that obvious?”

“Honestly, I thought you were checking out Steve at first,” he laughs. Your laugh joins his, and you feel more relaxed. “The only reason I never said anything was-“ he nibbles on his lower lip trying to think of what he wants to say. “I thought you wouldn’t want me.”

“What?” you gasp. “How could you think that?”

“My life is fucked up baby, why would you want in the mess?” He takes a step closer.

“All I wanted was to be there for you,” you admit, fiddling with the hem of your jacket.

“That’s all you wanted?” he takes another step closer. You can feel the heat of him. You look up at his face, he’s standing so close. His brow is raised. “That’s all you wanted?” he repeats in a whisper.

“Javi,” you whisper and melt into him as he closes the gap between you with his lips. His mustache tickles your upper lip in the way you hoped it would.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers against your lips and kisses the corner of your mouth.

“You don’t have to explain,” you cling to his shirt. You start to laugh and press your forehead against his solid warm chest.

“What’s so funny?” he laughs.

“This isn’t how I thought this would happen.”

“Oh?” he raises that eyebrow again.

“I thought-“

“What?” he kisses your forehead and cheeks.

“I just thought you’d come up to my desk and ask me for a paperclip or something and then ask me for coffee.”

“Baby, I will ask you for a fucking paperclip if that’s what you want.”

You snort out a laugh and he squeezes you tight. He kisses you again, and you feel dizzy.

“I don’t do this. Ever,” you flush.

“It’s ok,” he whispers kissing you again, “all I came over for was a paperclip.”

//

MASTERLIST

[americancowgirl19]

Mutant not Monster - Part Three

Part Three: Sam falls into the cage leaving Dean to think he’s lost his brother forever. Wanting to honor his brother’s last wishes, Dean goes to Y/n.

Summary: Y/n and her twin brother, Warren, are both mutants. In a world where mutants aren’t accepted, Y/n and her brother have to go on the run as anti-mutant extremists begin hunting their kind down. Sam and Dean are hunters, just not mutant hunters. However, their paths cross and despite a rocky beginning they become allies against not only the war against mutants but the war against mankind.

Warnings: angst, fluff, talk about character death

Reader: Female Reader; Y/n Worthington

Pairings: Dean Winchester x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 2,181

Part Two

Masterlist

2010 - Y/n POV - Reader is 30

“Storm’s sending me to Baltimore. She thinks that there’s a group of mutants laying low just outside the city,” I tell my brother through the phone.

“Be careful. Baltimore has the highest mutant fatalities,” Warren warns.

“I know, that’s why we have to get them out of there and somewhere safe,” I said as I continue packing.

“Why don’t you wait a few more days?” Warren suggests. “I’ll be back by then and we can go together,”

“I’ll be fine, Warren. I’ll be in and out before anyone blinks,” I promise. Warren sighs obviously not liking this plan but not being able to do anything about it.

Suddenly my doorbell rings and there’s heavy knocking on the door.

“Look, I gotta go. I’ll text you when I get to Baltimore,” I said zipping my bag up. I grab the straps and carry out of my room.

“Alright, fine,” Warren mutters. “Don’t try to be a hero, if you have to leave Baltimore before you find anybody then leave,” Warren says sternly. “Come back to base, get reinforcements and then try again,”

“I know the drill, Warren,” I say. “This isn’t my first assignment on my own. I’ll text you, be safe coming back,” I say before hanging up. I toss my back to the side before opening the door. “Dean?” I ask seeing the tall hunter standing on my welcome mat. 

It’s been a few months since I’ve seen Dean but only about a week since I last heard from him. Over the past few years Dean and I have been through a lot. I’ve helped him hunt the supernatural while he’s helped me find mutants. I’ve worked with him against Lucifer whiles he’s worked with me against anti-mutant extremists like the Sapien League. Of course, Sam’s been right with Dean the entire time but my relationship with the younger brother isn’t quite like the one I have with Dean.

I see Sam as a brother but Dean’s always been different. Dean has a way of ruffling my feathers and making my heart jump like no one else can. I’ve never met someone who can piss me off to high heaven yet still turn me on and make me blush.

There’s always been an understanding between Dean and I. We’ve never talked about it but we both knew we could feel this unspoken thing between us. However, we also knew that with the lives we lived, we wouldn’t be able to act on our feelings. We travel far too much and we both live day by day.

Although, that doesn’t stop me from fantasizing about the perfect future. An ‘apple pie life’ as Dean likes to call it. A life where I don’t have to worry about being killed on the street because of the wings on my back. A life where Dean doesn’t have to go from town to town hunting dangerous creatures. A life just for us with Warren and Sam close but not too close.

That’s all it was though, a fantasy. 

“Dean, what’s wrong?” I whisper.

This isn’t the first time Dean Winchester has appeared on my doorstep. Usually it’s at some ungodly hour but this is the first time he’s shown up with red, puffy eyes.

“Sammy...” Dean chokes out. My heart stops. “Sammy’s...” His head hangs. He doesn’t need to finish. My mouth drops slightly. I’m frozen for a moment but I snap out of it when Dean sniffles. I grab his arm and pull him inside. My foot kicks the door closed and my arms hug him close.

“I’ve got you,” I whisper tightening my grip around him. Dean buries his head in the crook of my neck. I can feel his tears falling on my skin. My wings instinctively wrap around him as I try to provide as much comfort and security as I can. “Shh, I’ve got you,” I whisper combing my fingers through his hair when his grip suddenly tightens. I kiss his shoulder lightly prepared to hold him for as long as it takes.

2010 - Y/n POV - Reader is 30

“Here,” I say softly. Dean takes the coffee from my hands as I sit across from him at the kitchen table. “Why are you here, Dean?” I ask. His eyes flicker up to me. “Shouldn’t you be with Bobby? Or trying to find a way to get Sam back?” I ask him.

“Sam didn’t want me bringing him back,” Dean says. “He wants me to move on, stop hunting,” Dean tells me. “Try the... Apple pie life,” I tense slightly.

“Dean...” I whisper. “I can’t stop,” I tell him. “There’s still mutants out there that need to be found and protected,”

“And I’ve helped you before,” Dean says.

“Yeah, but it’s not the apple pie life, Dean,” I shake my head. “My life isn’t much different from yours, just a different agenda and a different enemy. It’s still dangerous,”

“I know,” Dean sighs slowly. “But... I’d be with you,” He says looking at me. I stay quiet for a moment and stare into his eyes trying to decipher what he’s trying to say. For so long we just didn’t talk about moving forward between us.

“Maybe you should take some time to yourself, Dean,” I whisper. “If you want the apple pie life, you won’t find it with me. Not right now, at least,”

“Guess I’ll just have to be patient then,” Dean says forcing a small smile. I mimic it. “Do you mind if I stay for a few days?”

“You’re always welcome here,” I tell him. “You can stay for as long as you want,” I assure him.

“Thanks,” He says before clearing his throat. His eyes flicker towards the door. “Were you going somewhere?” He asks noticing my bag.

“Baltimore,” I tell him. “Same assignment, different city,”

“But Baltimore-” Dean says, his eyes filling with concern.

“I know,” I cut him off.

“Maybe I can come with you,” Dean suggests.

“I’ll be fine, Dean,” I promise. “It’s a quick in and out. I’ll be back in three days. Warren will be here in two. Just stick around here and find something to do. I’m sure Baby needs to be worked on. Hell, work on my car, God knows it needs something done to it,” I tell him knowing that I was taking my brothers car to Baltimore seeing that he left town with Bobby.

“If you need help-”

“I’ll call you,” I reassure him. Dean gives me a small smile. Reaching across the table, I grab his hand. “Don’t worry about me, Dean. I can handle this. Just worry about yourself, alright?” Dean holds my gaze as he turns his hand in mine until he’s holding it.

2010 - Y/n POV - Reader is 30

As I expected, the trip to Baltimore was successful. It didn’t go as smooth as I had hoped but at least I was able to find the mutants Storm had sent me to find and bring them back to base.

When I returned home I saw Warren and Dean bonding over cars. I was relieved to see Dean smiling and continuing on with life. However, I could still see the heartbreak and sadness in his eyes throughout the day, especially at night. I knew it would take more than a couple of days for Dean to not only come to terms with Sam’s eternal imprisonment but to be able to heal from losing his brother.

Life for Dean didn’t exactly get easier as the months passed but he got set in a routine. He stayed with me at my place and helped look after the mutants. He became the unofficial head mechanic in our area. The small jobs kept him busy.

Every couple of weeks I would have to leave for either diplomacy purposes or undercover missions. However, when I was home, it certainly felt as if I was living an apple pie life. 

Dean would go to work every day and come home around the same time. We would talk about anything and everything. Warren would often join us but it was nice when it was just Dean and I.

Tonight, Warren was off on his own leaving Dean and I to ourselves. Dean’s still out working on cars while I cook us some dinner. It’s nothing fancy but it’s better than takeout.

When Dean finally came home, I was putting dinner on the table as I worked through my second glass of wine. Dean greeted me as he went into the fridge for a beer.

“This look delicious,” Dean grinned sitting at the table.

“I’m just happy I didn’t have to use the fire extinguisher,” I smirked.

“I’m proud of you,” He teases with a wink causing my smile to broaden. A few moments later he began to jabber on and on about what happened at work. It made me smile to hear him talking so fondly of the other mutants. I was relieved that he got along with them so well. I was also glad to see that he wasn’t pushing everyone away and shutting down like I had expected him too. I wish he would talk to his friend/father figure Bobby but I also didn’t want to push him.

At the end of dinner I put the dishes in the sink while Dean opened another beer. I began washing while he took his place beside me to dry. A small smile came to my lips at the domestic vibe between us.

When the dishes were done I continued to wipe down the counter. Dean disappeared behind me. I didn’t think anything of it until I felt his hands. His fingertips brushed against the black feathers on my wings. I could feel them twitch and push against his hand in response.

His fingers gently groom through them. I shudder slightly as he reaches more sensitive areas. The thought of telling him to stop, to step away never crossed my mind. I didn’t want him to stop. It felt good. Calming.

Slowly, his hands travel from my wings to my back. He drags his fingers down my spine. I grip the countertop tightly not fully registering just how much his touch is affecting me. His large, calloused hands cover my hips. His fingers dig into my skin as he steps up against my back.

“Dean...” I whisper. He hums just as quietly as his head dips to my shoulder. My eyes close as his lips press against my skin. His nose glides against my neck before he presses his lips just behind my ear.

“Y/n...” He whispers back. I don’t even notice myself leaning against his chest until his arms wrap around my waist. “You’re so beautiful,” He whispers to me.

“Wings and all?” I ask tentatively. His hug tightens.

“Wings and all,” He confirms slipping his hands under my shirt. He doesn’t attempt to take it off but the skin-on-skin contact if comforting. “You’re perfect,” He states leaning his head against mine. “I wouldn’t want you any other way,”

“Flirt,” I tease causing him to grin. 

“Is it working?” He questions.

“It always works,” I whisper back grinning widely when he kisses the side of my head.

“Sam told me I needed to man up and get you before someone else snatched you up,” Dean confesses, his arms tightening at the mention of his brother. I gently caress his forearms feeling a little happy that Dean was starting to talk about Sam on his own.

“I’ve been yours for years, Dean,” I tell him. “I don’t want anyone else,”

“Good,” Dean says massaging my hips with his hands. I grin as he begins to sway us. I lift my hand up and back to his head. My finger thread through his hair. “I don’t want you to be anyone else’s,” I lean my head back and turn it towards him.

“Are you going to hold me all night or are you going to kiss me?” I ask quietly.

“I’d love to do both,” Dean mutters before closing the gab between us. I grin turning in his arms. Dean instantly pushes me against the counter as my wings curl around him. The both of us hold the other tightly. “God, I shoulda done that when you saved my ass in the woods,” He whispers thinking back to our third meeting.

“Well, You were too busy being a stubborn asshole,” I tease and Dean smirks chuckling a bit.

“Well, I’ve got you now,” He whispers tenderly caressing my face.

“I’m not going anywhere,” I promise leaning against his hand. He presses into me more as his hand on my hip tightens.

“You better not,” He whispers. My heart clenches as I see the fear and concern in his eyes.

“I’m right here, Dean,” I whisper to him. “Just stay with me. Don’t worry about the future, don’t think about the past. Just stay with me, in this kitchen, for a little longer,” 

“I can do that,” He whispers with a small smile.

“Good,” I whisper pulling his lips back to mine.

@akshi8278​ @shipshipshipau​

A/n - I had planned on moving on with this little series but right now I think I’m going to leave it end like that. I don’t think I’m going to continue with a part four. I hope you all enjoyed it though!

[jlf23tumble]

Hey Jen. I think you’re superb like in a (not to quote anyone but) you can sit and kind of admire what you’re like kind of way. So thanks for being awesome and enjoyable to this internet stranger. In unrelated matter, do you have any angst filled fics? I mostly read HL but I’ll dive into whatever as long as the pain is there. (If I can give a preference, I’m not so much into magic, fantasy, wolves, and sorts.) In these unprecedented times, I think I’d still need a happy ending though after the characters suffer terribly lol. If you find time to put something together for little old moi, I’d appreciate it very much. Thanks! Keep on keeping on! You’re wonderful!

<bryan_cranston_me_question_mark.gif> !!!!!!!!!! This is so incredibly kind, I think you’re pretty wonderful, too! I feel like I’m probably going to let you down here, though, because I generally don’t go too hard for angst (for one, it usually translates into longer fics, for two, some areas of true angst are just things I don’t really want to read for pleasure, like messy cheating aftermaths, abuse, character death, etc., and for three, I get lost in the sauce if I try too hard to dissect if something actually IS major angst versus, say, intense pining), but I’ll do my best! I’m going to give my dirty dozen here--my top 12 for hl--then I’ll dive deeper under the cut, with authors I love who write so much angst it’s tough to pick just one, plus other fandoms, too, in case you want to dive deeper.

Fertile Ground, Blake, 4.4k. Okay, in truth, so much of what Blake writes has gorgeous lashings of angst, so definitely read all of their fic (every fandom), but this one?? HOLY MOLY, it deserves to be separated and celebrated, Harry’s angst about fertility, howwwwww is this 4.4k, I ask, constantly?

sensitive to pressure, momentofclarity/ @gaycousinlarry, 4.4k. Hockey players and pubes and scent kinks, and yet there’s still this current of angst that thrums underneath, man oh man, would I read everything in this universe.

Everything You Do, jishler/ @jishlerfics, 6.6k. The third part of a stunning series, this one focusing on Harry’s gender identity and the Dunkirk haircut, and if you saw those recent gifsets with him wearing the beanie during training, yeah, this fic is alllll about it

i’m a captain on a jealous sea, devilinmybrain/ @thedevilinmybrain, 15k. A lot of jealousy on Louis’s part about all things Gryles, both real and imagined, I’m loving the vibes this author brings to it all.

taking tips and getting stoned, alison, 24k. I don’t think I can sum this one up quickly, but taxi driver Louis comes across singer Harry, and a lot of things change after that? God, that’s bad, but this fic is not!

hard to confess, @hereforlou, 24k. I adore Maggie’s writing so much, and she’s another one where I could rec at least three more here, but the one where Harry hides that he’s pregnant until the very last second? It’ll forever be the scorpio of mpreg fics, and I say that with the highest praise.

Maybe I Miss You series, 13ways, 28k. THIS SERIES, ooooooooffffff, the angstometer is off the chart, and then the last installment? Harry in makeup? This after all the sexting and boxing and hate sex and finally they figure their shit out? All of it is so good, and I’m eternally sad the author moved on (but jesus, I get it).

hush., Wankerville, 41k. Easily in my top five fics of any fandom, the softness and the cruelty, the growth and the real-life feels, an American high school AU that is still stunning and must have blown doors off back in that particular day (I’d also rec this author’s other work, esp. for angst).

every universe but ours, 28finelines, 49k. Okay, so this one has a little bit of magic that might annoy you, but it’s mostly in a multiverse way, like you’re reading a ton of AUs, but the theme itself has an angsty core, fwiw!

Truly, Madly, Deeply (10 Things I Hate about You), sunsetmog, 54k. I know I talk a LOT about this author’s ongoing wip, Harry Styles Cooks... (which is phenomenal, please do yourself a favor if you haven’t already), but this one? Angst ahoy, Harry auditions for XFUK without telling his boyfriend/friends, becomes a success, then comes home.

Time Passed, coffinofachimera/ @belialsmiracles, 66k. For every fic rec list I make, I always have at least one fic where I say, if you read nothing else, read this one, AND THIS IS IT, all categories, it’s simply astounding, life-changing, world-ending, and it kills me that more people haven’t left comments, but if it keeps shitty comments away, I’m all for it, I’ll protect this author/fic with my life. I can’t even begin to describe it, but if you want to know what the songs Fine Line or She are about, here you go! AIMH, Tokyo Harry!

The World Turned Upside Down, dogslpdi/ @dogsliampaynedoesntinstagram, 71k. I’m really iffy on historical fics, but this fic! This fic nails it! The detail and the emotion, the way you can feel the effects of the strike in so many ways, but also how HIV/AIDS is not that far off on the horizon, it’s just so well done. Plus, I adore Ralph’s humor and the way she tagged this both “minor angst” and “miner angst,” and if I can’t end an angst rec on a light note, what more can I do?

Let’s start with things beyond hl...lately, I’ve been reading a LOT of Untamed fic, and I feel like I should just point you to Liv’s masterlists because they are angst city (and fun city, too), plus she’s done a really good job of labeling them accordingly (right now, my fave angst is from chunk no. 2, Fire in the Blood, which is a case fic, but oof, I can’t wait to read even more in these parts).

I’m also just now getting into Merlin and reading a lot in that fandom, but it’s a bit scattershot at this stage (I haven’t finished the show yet, and I’m still working my way through one author who wrote 100+ fics, all of which are incredible; if you’re curious for something recent from over there, Phoenix wrote a short, angsty one that’s good and ouchy, this tangled thicket).

Speaking of Phoenix, EVERYTHING she has written for Cars (Lightning/Doc) is incredibly angsty, usually with that happy ending finale--I’d rec my current fave, but it’s a wip, so no happy ending yet, wahhh. Check out this link to the rest of them, though, I rec ‘em all!

I still have to watch the source material, but everything anyone’s sent me from Cobra Kai is INCREDIBLY angsty and so, so good, so I’m gonna bet there’s a fair bit of fix-it fic in my future, but we shall see! 

Now onto the hl angst, ideally things you haven’t already read a million times before. Like I said earlier, this one’s kind of tough because I’m not into intense angst (major character/close family member death, messy cheating aftermath--though @kingsofeverything’s Devil and the Deep Blue Sea is fantastic, if you’re into that [messy cheating aftermath, not death]; actually, a lot of Lauren’s longer fics have a dose of angst, so dive away!)

Speaking of authors who regularly deliver angst, I have quite a few that I would say just go check out their works because almost every single thing they’ve done has it in varying degrees, you won’t be disappointed! These authors primarily write the hl pairing, and I definitely rec ‘em all: HappyPrincess, got2ghost, mediaville, and sedfierisentio. Authors I love who write Harry/other characters and do it in a hella angsty way include vondrostes, sulkingroom, radiodurans, and wishforwishes (I swear, I still think about call me anything you like at least once a month).

[sothatmyocshauntmealittleless]

No time to die - part 1/2

->part 2

author's note: so this is a piece I started writing when I got bored in a family gathering like two years ago, and I rewrote it recently. This is the first part and I haven't finished editing the rest but I estimate that there would be one or two more parts. The story is about two high school friends that meet after five years of having no contact with each other and their confrontation. Also the name is inspired by the song with the same name by Billie Eilish 'cause I was listening to it while writing a part of this and the song really suits the relationship between the characters.

~1800 words

I’m feeling a burning ache in my abdomen, and my mind is full of different scenarios that this could lead to, one worse that the other. What if I call an ambulance? I answer myself within a fraction of a second that it wouldn’t lead to pleasant things though the alternative which is bleeding to death isn’t ideal either. So just when I’ve finally convinced myself to pick up the phone and call an ambulance before I pass out, a name crosses my mind. It’s the best and the worst thing that I can do at the same time, but well sometimes your survival instincts would take over your overthinking abilities, no matter how strong they are. And despite all my hesitation, I know the number by heart.

She picks up the phone after few rings, “Hello?”, I’m a bit thrown off by how her voice is the same but her tone is different from the last time I’ve heard her, “Hi”, my voice shakes and I don’t know if it’s from the injury or hearing her voice again. “Riley? Is that you?”, somehow she could recognize me from just that one word and at least her tone is less formal now. “Yeah it’s me, listen I wanted to ask if you could come here now if you can, but it’s totally fine if you can’t make it.” Maybe it’s the shock of hearing someone from your past, or my shaky voice that she agrees to come without any other questions and I tell her my address in the calmest pace I can.

Until she arrives I spend my time overthinking on how bad of an idea it was to call her, and why would she even bother herself with my problems anymore, like who in their right mind would hurry in the middle of the night to heal someone from their past that they tried so hard to abandon. But careful knocks on the door save me from my thoughts. I open the door and for a moment think that the option of bleeding to death at least could’ve saved me from the awkwardness of this, before I manage to say “Thank you so much for coming, I really didn’t want to trouble you”, she replies “Not that I love getting surprise calls at midnight but what’s the occasion?” and then she takes a look at me with her perfect hazel eyes and sees it, the blood soaking my shirt and says “holy fuck Ri, what did… what happen- it doesn’t matter now”

It takes her only few moments to get into her other sleeve, the doctor she was trained to be, giving orders and analyzing the situation, only stopping once to curse me under her breath that I should’ve told her to bring her medical stuff and that I’m a lucky bastard that she didn’t come totally unprepared. Then her inner doctor takes charge completely. I tell myself maybe outer, you know it’s who she is now, heal first talk later that’s what she does.

“Take your shirt off”, I obey without making a snarky comment because even I can tell it would be inappropriate. I can’t really describe the process of her stitching me up, because I’ve never been a big fan of surgeries to the point I even skip them when they come up in movies, and maybe beside how pain makes everything hazy, I can’t wrap my head around the idea of her hands on me.

When it’s done she gives me some final instructions and tells me to don’t move from where I’m sitting for at least half an hour. Then standing in front of me without taking a step, she looks at her watch and her gaze lingers to the door and I know she’s thinking about leaving, but decides against it, at least for now.

“So are you gonna tell me how this happened?”, she asks gesturing towards my wound that is now stitched and bandaged. I guess I’m too exhausted for anything but the truth so I say “I was working on a case, and it didn’t end well.” She glares at me, “Well I can see that clearly, but how did it turn that way?”, “my client was a small business going to court against a big company, I had some dirty things on them but they weren’t enough proof so I was looking for more and they sent someone to scare me off I think, but um I tried to resist and it escalated quickly and I got a nice killer knife wound.” “It wasn’t fatal,” she says, “What?” I reply a bit shocked, “I said it wasn’t fatal, the knife didn’t go that deep, what? You thought I could fix a fatal cut with couple of stiches?” to that I mumble that I really trust her abilities and she rolls her eyes. I think at this point we’re past the formal greetings and small talks and now that the crisis is over she seems done with my shit so she continues “So you’ve finally fulfilled your dreams and became the woman you’ve always aspired to be, a detective/lawyer hunting down bad guys and giving them what they deserve” she doesn’t even try to hide the bitterness in her voice, and so if we’re going there now, I won’t try to hide it from mine either, “And you’ve became a doctor, a life you have dreamed of from the beginning, never even thinking to be anything else.”

She sighs and drops to the couch in front of me, “So this is the time that you’ve finally decided to talk about it.” It doesn’t sound like a question, more like a statement. Maybe being in pain and exhausted sharpens your edges and makes the things you’ve hidden carefully to snap free because I can’t hold back when I say: “Says the one who just abandoned me overnight and decided to part ways forever without even a heads up.” The thing is I’ve imagined having this conversation so many times in so many different situations, that it actually happening doesn’t feel real, it feels like another one of those fantasies in my head except she is really here now, and my pulse is betraying me by beating so damn fast.

“I didn’t abandon you, If I had you’d still be bleeding.” And a part of me wants to just accept that and move on and embrace her, because I’ve missed her, hell I’ve missed her so much I want to hug her and never let go, and we have a lot to catch up on too, five years worth of memories. Five years that we were no more than outside observers in each other's lives, but the stronger part, the part that’s been hurting ever since wants to have this conversation, needs to have this conversation or else I would never stop imagining it in my head.

“Well maybe our definition of abandonment is a bit different, ‘cause changing your life course and treating me like a stranger and pretending like all our planning and dreaming for future never happened sure as hell fits in mine.”

“I never treated you like a stranger, you were the one who decided to not talk to me and have anything to do with me anymore and cut contact completely”

“Because I couldn’t do it like that anymore, like I was just another one in your new class, as if we didn’t have history, like what we had wasn’t something more. We used to joke about how disconnected we felt from them, not because we hated them because we were different, or at least I thought you were.”

“People change Riley.”

And for a few moments neither of us backfires anything else to the other, and my mind finds time to wonder for the thousandth time why we didn’t even call each other all these years. But well one of the things that made us close at first was how stubborn we were. I remember clearly when there was a debate competition in school and we were a team and crashed the whole thing. Beside our passion for the matter we were unstoppable, to the point that each match ended to the other team being like “dear god just let it go it’s over”, and remembering those days even now in the midst of this makes me a little calmer.

I can’t help but ask, “Was it because I tried to-“ before letting me finish she says “God no, you think I could transfer in a day? And for what? Not everything is about you, or what you do or what you want, I thought five years would be enough time to learn that”, and well I’ve always known that it was a coincidence that those two things happened successively. But deep down I couldn’t shove the idea away that it was all because she wanted to get away from me, that it was my fault and I shouldn’t have done it after all. I know that doubt has led me to be selfish, and to give up on trying to fix it, and to suffer more, and I don’t know how to defend it (or if I even should). Throughout all these years I’ve also imagined getting the answer to this question countless times, and how I’ll finally be at peace if I got this answer, but now I don’t feel relived as much as I wanted to.

“So you thought of me in those years?” I say in a hopeful tone still desperately clenching to this conversation, as if all this could be solved just if we have this talk. “Way to avoid my point right? You haven’t changed a bit, reckless and careless and always holding on to things that don’t matter much to the extent that you nearly got yourself killed,” but she says this in a kinder tone than the previous one, maybe even with a hint of worry in her voice. I finally give up on trying to get this conversation to fix it all, and decide that we’re too tired now, so I reply “I thought you said it wasn’t fatal.” A pause then, “It’s really late, are you going to leave now?” I hope that she can hear the silent ‘stay’ in what I just said. “I don’t think I can get a taxi now, can I? considering the time, and I don’t have the energy to explain all this to someone and wake them to pick me up”, “you can stay if you want?” and for all we’ve been through, I’m relieved when she agrees.

//end of part 1

->part 2

[jango-fettish]

3 - A Salacious B. Crumb vs Boba Fett Story

Summary: Salacious B. Crumb is an enigma. Boba Fett is seemingly unkillable god. So what happens when an unstoppable force meets an immovable object? 

Warnings: Canonical Violence, Character Death, OCC Salacious 

Word Count: 2744

A/N: yeah the title is another britney spears song, deal with it. this has not been edited or read over after it was written so enjoy my mistakes (i meant typos and what nots, i know this entire thing could be considered a mistake). i gave up towards the end but whatever

Tagging my mutuals who tolerate my bullshit: @a-dorin @simping-for-fives @nelba @chadillacboseman @porgnugget @cptnbvcks​ @blxwjobsforclones @clonewarslover55​ @djxrxn​ @escapedthesarlacc

Gif is not mine. i got it from here. 

Tatooine was a barren wasteland, with only two outcomes for those unfortunate enough to land on the sandy dunes: a slow death or a quick death. No one ever got to choose which one would happen to them, it just happened. You could be a young child, just walking around the corner and getting caught in an unsuspected dust storm, sand filling every crevice and making home in your lungs. Or you could live for years, your skin and soul withering away under the twin suns, the heat baking you slowly from the inside out until you breathe your final breath. 

Or, for some reason, you could actually get lucky and survive something that should have been your end. In an instant you turn into a god amongst mortals, someone who could say that Tatooine tried her best to end you, but you were just better. That is until the ever-changing dunes decided that today would be the day and become your grave. It was a rare occurrence, even more rare to happen to multiple people in the same day, in the same place. But luck and whatever greater being they believed in was on their side. And they lived. 

Salacious B. Crumb, for all intents and purposes, should have died the moment he became the jester of Jabba the Hutt. The little Kowakian monkey-lizard wasn’t built for the festering, dry heat of Tatooine. What a change from the tropical climate and landscapes of his mother planet. Nonetheless, he adapted and survived. Though there were a few times that he was almost crushed by the weight of his master, or swallowed by the great slug beast for not doing his job. The little shit was tough, tough enough to be able to stare bounty hunters, such as Boba Fett, down and laugh in his face without worry of consequences. 

But Boba Fett was the type to not forgive or forget transgressions, even the same ones. The noxious laugh of Jabba’s most loyal pet seemed to bother everyone besides the Hutt. Each time he arrived back in the dais to get a new job, Boba planned out exactly how he would kill the little creature, each growing more and more violent in nature. In the end, he had three perfectly planned out executions for the little creature. He wouldn’t be able to live out his sick fantasies, at least not when the Kowakian was wrapped snugly in Jabba’s tail, stealing the small morsels of food that broke off of Jabba’s meal. 

Even as he fell into the great stomach of the Sarlacc, Boba could hear the high laugh of Salacious B. Crumb mocking him. It was cut short when there was a great explosion and, while it wasn’t one of the three ways Boba would have killed him, he was glad that at least it was done. But, their destinies were intertwined that day. Both were supposed to die in the swirling sands of the Dune Sea. But the Sea had other plans for them.

Boba Fett sat atop the throne once owned by his employer. How the fates had changed in favor of the Mandalorian, once swallowed the decaying in the bubbling stomach of the Sarlacc, now seated in a position of power no man would dream of having. 

But Boba Fett was no ordinary man. 

***********

As he stared at the bodies flooding the chamber, celebrating the ending of Bib Fortuna’s rule over the once powerful Hutt Empire, Boba felt at ease for the first time in his life. He had his father’s armor back, he completed a quest and earned himself a new powerful ally. However, even with all that, Boba could feel the bubbling of uncertainty in his gut. 

Under the safety of his visor, Boba’s dark eyes watched Fennec Shand, his faithful partner, flirt with a purple skinned Twi’lek woman. Once unsure of trusting an assassin with a reputation such as Fennec’s, who at a moment's notice could easily blind side him and take everything he worked so hard for, Boba was sure he could trust her. He had saved her life after all. No, she wouldn’t be the one to betray him. 

He didn’t have to worry about any supporters of Bib Fortuna. The pale Twi’lek had made many enemies within the five years he was in power, growing greedy and selfish. It helped that Boba’s reputation in the galaxy was well known and feared. He was a god, been to hell and back. Who would dare try to challenge him? 

“F-F-Fett,” a high gravely voice whispered from behind him. It was like a breeze, barely there, but he could hear it. 

Boba sat straighter in the throne and tried to drown out the sounds of laughing and merriment that echoed throughout the room. The helmet could only filter out so much. He wasn’t the same bounty hunter he used to be before the pit. Though he was only in the belly for two days, the Sarlacc did more damage to him than he would like to admit. His leg, which he surprisingly was able to save, burned and ached every step he took. The heavy beskar armor just added to the additional stress. He was in constant pain, unable to fully find a sedative or pill that would dull the pins and needles he felt in his knees. His ever increasing age only added to it. But gods didn’t feel pain, so Boba didn’t either. 

“Fett,” the voice called again from his left. Boba whipped his head to the side, looking in the direct the whisper came. It was coming from deep in the many caves of the palace. The voice probably travelled not that far though to get to him. He seemed to be the only one that could hear it. Part of him wondered if he was imagining things, if the voice was just a hallucination. Maybe it was a new symptom of the pit. 

Great.

Boba slowly stood up, his knees cracking each inch he rose. 

“Leaving the party so soon, Fett?” Fennec Shand asked from the edge of the dias, getting his attention briefly, before he looked back in the direction of the whisper. She held a bottle of bright blue spotchka, her drink of choice. “What’s the rush?” 

“Want to check something out,” he muttered.

“Ah, going after the ghost?” 

“Ghost?” The vocoder crackled his voice. 

“Some of the boys were telling me that they heard laughing in one of the storage rooms. Couldn’t find anything or anyone down there though.”

“Laughing? What kind of laughing?” Boba asked, looking back to Fennec. 

She shrugged, “Beats me. Said it was annoying enough to make them not want to go back in there.” 

Boba’s hand twitched slightly. An annoying laugh. He knew quite a few people who he could easily categorize their laugh as annoying, but none of them from this part of the galaxy. Except one. But he was dead...but then again, so was Boba. 

“Crumb,” Boba growled, grabbing his blaster. 

“Crumb?” Fennec asked to deaf ears as Boba made his way to the hallway entrance. 

The winding halls that led deep into the ground were dimly lit as he made his way deeper into the cave system of the Palace. The walls were glistening, the moisture collecting into little pellets the deeper Boba ventured into the ground. Where had Fennec said the laugh was coming from? One of the storage rooms? 

As if on cue, a guttural laugh resonated in the hall. The sound hit Boba right in the gut, sending goosebumps up his arms. It wasn’t fear, but irritation that coursed through his body. Boba ground his teeth together, stomping down to the one storage room he knew would hold the little monster. For years Boba watched the little shit pick at the food that was given to him or that he stole, going straight for the dried, cured meats. His beak would tear at the muscles, ripping them into shreds before consuming the food with a hearty laugh. 

Boba stood in the doorway of the storage room where the keepers of the Palace kept the dried meats. Different cuts and creatures hung from the ceiling on large hooks, perfectly still. The room had no light, other than the faint glow that flowed through the doorway. Boba’s body shielded most of the light, his shadow disappearing within the room where the light touched. 

“Where are you, you little shit?” Boba growled. He took one step forward, shifting his visor into night vision.

“ooooAHAHHAHAHAHA,” the voice cackled loudly. 

Boba couldn’t see anything, other than hanging meat, as he stepped through the room. His blaster was drawn at the ready, finger secure on the trigger. For years he dreamed a day like this would come. No longer was Jabba around to protect the Kowakian. 

“Come on now, little monkey, how did you survive?” Boba asked, pushing a piece of Bantha thigh out of his way. 

“F-Fett!” the voice called before chuckling darkly. The sound was unsettling. Boba hadn’t known the creature to speak actual words. Was it even possible? The deeper Boba stepped into the meat cellar, the greater his uneasiness grew. 

“Did Fortuna let you sneak your way back in here? If it were me, I’d have put you on the pit roast the moment you showed your fucking face.” 

Silence: something Boba did not like. 

“Show yourself!” he called out.

A chain to his left shook and he heard a scream. He turned, but a second too late and Salacious B. Crumb landed on the Mandalorian’s shoulder, his sharp beak trying to find a soft spot to sink into. The Kowakian’s claws dragged themselves across Boba’s helmet. Salacious was laughing the entire time, the haunting noise drowning out Boba’s curses. Boba gripped the scruff on Salicious’s neck, ripping him off and threw him back into the shadows. Truthfully, Boba knew that he should have strangled the little guy there, but the nauseating laughs irritated him to no end. Boba just needed him away.

Salacious clung to one of the hanging meats, his claws ripping into the tendons. He glared down at Boba, who had fully regained himself after the quick attack. How Salacious wished nothing more than to strike again, but he knew better. He had to bide his time. Boba Fett was good, better than most if not all bounty hunters. The Mandalorian looked up at Salacious, and tilted his head to the side. 

“You always were an ugly little shit,” Boba said. 

It was true, time had not been kind to Salacious. The fires from the explosion took most of his fur, save a few patches on his back. His once oil rich skin was rough and dry, as were his claws and beak. The iron rich meals he received from living in the meat cellar had provided Salacious with enough sustenance to gain weight. He was heftier, larger than Boba remembered. But it was the frenzied look in Salacious’s beady yellow eyes that struck the Mandalorian. 

“Fett!” Salacious cried out, his high voice rattling through the tense air. “Feeds on Fett Crumb will! Gain his power Crumb shall! AHAHAHAHAHHA.” 

Being alone in a dark room had made the Kowakian delirious and wild. 

“Just as Crumb did with the others!” Salacious howled again. 

“Others?” Boba asked. But a quick glance to the side answered his question. In the farthest corner that the light could touch were stacks of bones and mangled bodies of decaying Gamorreans. Boba himself had ousted most of them, not wanting to rely on the pig creatures. 

“You’ve made quite a mess, haven’t you, little monkey?” Boba said, raising his blaster once more. 

“Fett thinks he funny. Funnier than Crumb? Never!” Salacious growled, and jumped to another piece of meat. The chains rattled and moaned under the new strain. 

“You’ve gotten fat,” Boba said. 

Salacious grin was sinister and showed what rotting teeth he had left, “Fortuna got fat! Why not Crumb?” 

“I’ll give you that.” Boba watched as Salacious jumped to another, closer, piece of meat. “Watch it, little monkey.” 

Salacious went quiet and still, his head lurching to the side. His tongue flicked out from his beak, coating the tip in spit. He began making incoherent noises, babbling to himself.

“How are we going to do this?” Boba asked, “Though, to be honest with you, little monkey, I’ve already made up my mind.”

“Crumb told Fett already!” Salacious cried out, “Crumb will eats Fett!” 

“Not a great plan.” Boba took a step forward causing Salacious to hiss. “I’ve dreamed of this moment for a long time.”

Salacious’s body curled back, his eyes flickering to the piece of meat hanging to the left of Boba and Boba himself. After a few seconds, his angered look rested on Boba. He had made his decision. He lunged forward, claws ready to attach themselves into whatever piece of Boba they could. Salacious was fast, but a blaster was faster. 

And with Boba Fett at the end of the blaster, you are sure to lose. 

Salacious howled in pain, falling just before Boba’s boots with a dull thud. Smoke rose from his chest from where the blaster shot landed. He coughed out pathetically, blood spattering onto Boba’s boots, before stilling. Boba counted to three silently and then slowly began to bend down. His knees creaked and groaned with the chains. 

Before he was in a full squat, Salacious’s eyes opened wide and he swatted out at Boba. His claws connect with the beskar of Boba’s chest armor, scratching away the forest green paint in four jagged lines.

“Fuck,” Boba shouted, jumping back. 

“F..F...Fett,” Salacious said weakly, coughing once again. His chest moved erratically before completely stilling. His glossy eyes dulled over and his tongue hung limply out the side of his mouth. 

This time, Boba waited longer than three seconds, and this time, he didn’t bend down to check to see if Salacious was really dead. Boba nudged the limp body with the toe of his boot, making a satisfied noise when the body simply rolled to the other side, blood seeping out from underneath. 

By the time Boba emerged from the depths of the winding cavens, the crowd he had left doubled in size. He found Fennec easily in the mass of bodies, lounging in a large chair with a jug of spotchka, and not only the purple Twi’lek seated on her lap, but a human woman seated next to her, drinking in every word Fennec had to say. Boba approached his partner, the crowd dispersing from his path. One of the perks of being king, though it wasn’t really an issue for him before either.

“Look who finally decided to grace us with his presence. How was your little adventure?” Fennec asked. 

“Need you to do something for me,” Boba said, ignoring her question. He was in no mood for games; he just wanted to fuck off from the world and sleep.  

Fennec smiled charmingly at the human woman, “Hold on a moment sweetheart.” 

“I need you to get some men to go to the meat cellar and clean it up,” Boba began, “Tell them to get rid of everything.”

“We just got a fresh shipment the other day, why do we-”

“It’s spoiled,” Boba interjected. Fennec stared at him, leaning back in the chair. She knew well enough that it wasn’t spoiled; she had been there when the shipment came in and checked it herself. Everything was fresh and top of the line. 

“That’s new.” Fennec said, pointing her jug of spotchka to the four lines on his armor. “What happened there?”

“Fucking monkey,” Boba grumbled. Fennec was about to question what he meant, but Boba held a hand up, silencing any words from her. “Just...just have them clean the damn meat cellar.” 

Fennec nodded, taking a sip of the blue liquid. “Did you find that ghost?” 

Boba laughed darkly, “Oh I found him alright. Fucking took care of it too.” Boba grabbed the jug of spotchka from Fennec, “I’m going to my chambers, I don’t want to be bothered.”

“I was drinking that,” Fennec said. 

But her words drifted into the noise of the crowd, becoming one with the cacophony of laughs and jests and music. But the one thing Boba did not hear was that high pitched Kowakian squeal that chased him down the Sarlacc’s mouth. And he was content with that.