#stupid toothpick using bastard

[inbabylontheywept]

xc lends itself to stories well because it has all the weird overlapping insanities of group dynamics and hypoxia and Male Bonding and definitely a little bit of masochism.

and for my second xc story in like a week, we used to do this run down to the local public pool in the summers of hs because the temp was like, 110-115. fucking bastard heat. and this one girl had The Audacity to wear this extremely normal and fine two piece swimsuit that showed approximately a half inch of waist and a bellybutton. this of course was a mortal insult to one particular group of mormons who were so scandalized that they talked to the coach who in turn talked to the group about how Someone Wore a Two Piece Swimsuit and it made Some People very uncomfortable and that the dress code was now one piece swimsuits. and of course the poor girl was absolutely mortified.

now, the varsity were actually really good people in general, but one of them, who i shall name RJ, was just awesome. that sonofabitch could run like a 14:00 5k, but he still had this big ol potbelly, and he was the only person i knew who didnt get nauseous after running. the absolute brainfuck of running in the 110 degree heat along the canals, just struggling to breathe, and then getting smoked by this potbelled toothpick eating a bag of flaming hot cheetoes is just hard to understate. hed go up into the stands during track and buy hotdogs. just a legend. fuck that guy, but you know, in the way where im really just jealous of him.

anyway, RJ took genuine offense to this girl being called out for her totally normal swimsuit so when the next public pool run came around he showed up in a speedo. and it was the xc hivemind thing, where we all knew if we could just, somehow, keep the coach from noticing this guy until we actually pulled out and started running down the block, we were golden. so me and a bunch of other guys gathered around him like the secret service, and we did our stretches, got ready and left, and then RJ, being the beautiful majestic man muffin that he is, popped his shirt off, ran directly to the front of the mormon group, and proceeded to give himself the most brutal wedgie i can describe. practically stretched the speedo over his shoulders. you couldnt get a clearer vision of this mans ass with the hubble telescope.

so the mormon group tried to pass him, which was like stupid of them - nobody passed RJ unless they were willing to piss blood. they tried, they tried so hard to get around him and avoid the blaring eyewatering burn of this mans ghost white ass, but it didnt work, so they tried slowing down which is also something RJ could do indefinitely so eventaully they just kind of gave up and tried not to notice the extremely noticable hairy white butt camped in front of them for the entire three mile run to the pool.

the coach did notice about halfway through the run, but by then there wasnt much he could do. we argued very eloquently between panting and coughing and generally suffering that a speedo is, in fact, a one piece swimsuit, and thus the letter of the law had been fulfilled. id say, i dunno, maybe a hundred of us argued the case.

surprisingly, there was no follow up conversation banning speedos. RJs disapproval of the ban wouldve been enough, but the speedo underlined it in red a few times and at the next run to the pool, several other girls wore tankinis and nobody said shit.

(RJ told me if they had, the next run to the pool wouldve just been him winnie-the-poohing it, and i almost dont doubt it.)

[pumpkinsy0]

ITS MY BIRTHDAY!!!! IM TWOBIT AND TIM SHEPARD AGE!! not to get mushy bc EW but your account had held me together this past year so THANK YOU THANK YOU

it would so so nice of you to do literally ANYTHING papercut perchance? i’ll send you non chocolate on chocolate cake should you like :D HAVE A GOOD DAY

WOOOOOO HAPPY BIRTHDAYYYY APRIL BABIES WE UP🗣️🗣️ IM SORRY IM REPLYING TO THIS LATE BUT I RLLY DO HOPE UR HAVING A GREAT BDAY AND IM GLAD I COULD SUPPORT U BUT I WOULDNT B HERE WITHOUT U🫵🏽THANK U FOR UR SUPPORT EVERYDA Y AND ALWAYS!!!! I DEDICATE THIS TO U

take a small fic!!! now this is short as shit, maybe not thee most polished but whooo caressss omfgggg 😒😒😒 i tried what i could💔💔

fun fact: i wrote this while listening to frontin by pharrell i feel like saying that w the vibes of this fic it’s a lil obvious

———————————————————————————-

“Well, why the hell is a table gendered?”

“I dont know, ask the dead bastard who made the stupid language, not me.”

For what seemed like the hundredth time that afternoon, their backsides practically imprinted onto the wooden chairs, Pony erased his mistake.

“For a French tutor, you suck at teaching— know that, yeah?”

Curly looked over at Pony, raising an eyebrow, moving his toothpick with his tongue, giving him a once-over, and grinning. Curly stretched his arms out, and usually it takes everything in Pony to not stare at his short riding up, showing off his midriff, just to not give Curly the satisfaction— but the way this French homework was getting on his nerve?

There wasn’t much of a fight for today.

“Listen here,” Curly said, gettin real close to his face for this one, the toothpick now out of Curly’s mouth to be twirled onto Pony’s thigh, the small sharp stinging pain not enough to rip himself away from Curly’s gaze. His breath on Pony’s lips as familiar as the spring breeze outside, “It’s either you get me and have a good time.”

He edged closer, and if he did any more, they would become one, but for now��� Pony feels Curly’s lips simply grazing his, almost like Curly’s mouthing a secret to Pony that he had to feel to reveal.

As quickly as he pulled in, he pushed himself right back out with a shit-eating grin, knowing what he’s done and admiring his work. “Or, you get ole Superman in here, on your ass about every little thing ya do. It seems like the choice is obvious here, huh?” ending it off with a few small pats on Pony’s left cheek mockingly.

With what little dignity pony could manage to muster up with his pale face now beet red, “Ain’t the other language you speak practically based upon French?” said Pony, hoping to change the subject.

Curly rocked his chair back-and-forth and put his feet up on the desk. Had this been any other day, Pony would push em off, but today? With how Curly’s skin practically glowed in the afternoon sunlight coming through the window, his icy eyes melted into an ocean blue. Still scary, but filled with the wonders for exploration? Pony would let it go.

“Look, knowing Kreyòl doesnt automatically mean I know French, dipshit.” He reached out to flick Pony’s forehead and almost dropped the toothpick he put back in his mouth. “At best, it just means I can recognize words from it, I just happened to also speak French.”

Pony rolled his eyes, “Yeah, barely. Hope you realize that if I fail French class again, this semester, I’m pretty much grounded for 3 weeks,” Pony teased, and try as he might, he said it with much attempted disinterest.

“Hey now, hey now,” Curly put his hands up, “my French may be rusty, but it’s the best you’re gonna get from this side of the tracks with no strings attached.”

A second or two passed before someone spoke up again— they were used to silence and they appreciated it here and there, like fine wine. Between them, though, long peaceful quiet was unattainable, and that was perfectly fine with them too.

“Besides, I’d come visit you secretly, you know that.”

“Yea?”

“Mmhm, for you?” Getting more comfortable, Curly put his arms behind his head, as if what he was about to say it was as factual as the sky being blue. “I’d even get Tim’s shitty old radio and blast The Beatles to protest outside your window.”

“Really now,” said Pony, elongating the first half, raising his eyebrows, and tilting his head away from Curly, maybe to get a better look of all that Curly was and will be.

“Like them hippies?”

“As annoying as them, yup,” Curly proudly announced while popping the p. “Don’t think you could shake me off that quickly, puddin,” Curly winked.

Pony shook his head, his eyes going back to the sloppy paper while grinning, spirit now undeterred and ready for more.

“Trust me, knowing you, I wouldn’t dare.”



[ashintheairlikesnow]

I would love to see more Chris, and especially with Branch now we know that bastard is deep in the ground

Yeah, Oliver Branch is so very, very, very dead. That was a fun day for us all.

CW: Creepy whumper, intimate whumper, Oliver Branch is gross, BBU, forced alcohol consumption, minor whump (whumpee is 17), some gross implications here

-

"They should have a Pets Unlimited feature," His Sir muses, stirring the little stick with the olive speared through it around and around the slightly-tinted liquid in his martini glass. Baldur watches it, his mind too slow and foggy for the words to sink in immediately.

There's a delay before Baldur, kneeling on the floor before his Sir's chair, tips his chin to look up. At first, Sir is blurry and completely out of focus, but when he tries, slowly the details come together. "... a what?"

"Oh, probably not that, I'm sure they'd get sued for copyright infringement," Sir hums, picking up the toothpick and biting the olive right off, bleu cheese stuffing and all. He leans down and feeds Baldur some of the olive-stained vodka, until the boy coughs and Sir laughs at him, stabbing another olive from a little bowl on the table beside him and feeding Baldur that, too.

The squeak of olive and tang of the blue-veined cheese makes his stomach turn, but Baldur refuses to show it. He hates olives, but Sir likes them, so Baldur has to like them, too.

"But..." Sir hums, sitting back. His legs, kicked out on either side of Baldur, shift around behind him, locking his ankles to pull the boy closer, until he's pressed right up against the fabric of the chair. "You know what I mean."

Baldur has no idea whatsoever.

But he nods, slowly, keeping his eyes firmly focused on his Sir's face.

"I don't think I could afford it even if they did. Hell, for all I know the damn concept is already in place, and I'm just not rich enough or enough of the 'in group' to be offered." Sir laughs, a deep, rich, warm chuckle that runs like honey down Baldur's back, settles into his mind and smothers his thoughts. His eyes close as Sir pets fingers through his copper hair, shivering. He thinks he likes the touch.

He doesn't.

But he has to, so he does.

"Order one, keep it until I'm done with it, until you're too old, until you start to look your age... then send you back and get the next one. I'd pay for that kind of convenience, if I could. Which I can't. But wouldn't it be nice?"

These words, he knows. These words aren't honey - they are sharp and spiky, terror that has his eyes flying back open. He puts his hands on Sir's knees and shifts upwards, straightening his spine. "Sir? You... you would... send me back?"

The fear breaks through the daze he lives his days in, the only feeling he has with any strength anymore. He used to feel other things, he thinks, besides fear and the odd need that gets forced out of him. He's sure he did. Once.

"Oh, Baldur, darlin'." Sir sighs, as if he's being silly, a stupid little slut with no thoughts in his mind. He rubs a thumb along the line of Baldur's jaw, along his bottom lip, watches with amusement as Baldur tries to follow it, to somehow earn the forever that is supposed to be part of the promise of the program.

You signed up for this, and now you'll be taken care of.

"Sir..." He whispers, desperate for reassurance.

What he gets instead is Sir's smile, widening like a monster's until it feels too big for his face, and Baldur can only go still and silent as the glass is tipped against his mouth again, and the vodka burns down his throat and runs cold out of the corners of his mouth, trickling over his jaw and down his neck.

He chokes on it.

It's too much too fast, as much in his lungs as down his esophagus. He coughs, bent over with the force of it, and droplets spatter across Sir's pants and his shirt. Baldur's eyes burn, his heart pounds, and he gasps. "Oh... oh, no... Sir, I, I'm sorry-"

"Ssssshhhhh. It's all right, sweetheart, don't worry... it's all right..." Sir shakes his head. "It's okay, darlin'."

Baldur's mouth is trembling and he can't stop the little coughs that keep bubbling up, how his stomach flips and drops. He can't throw up. He can't. He'll be whipped bloody if he does, he always is when he throws up. His fingers tighten into Sir's pants until his knuckles are white as he fights the violence his stomach keeps threatening.

Sir waits, patient as a tiger watching prey take a drink at a stream, fingers moving gently through Baldur's hair, again and again.

Only when Baldur goes quiet, finally getting his body until control, does Sir murmur, "I wonder who'll find you when I'm done, and what they'll do to you, then."

His smile is soft and sweet and Baldur stares up into his eyes helplessly, hating every single second. This time, it's the vodka bottle that he forces against Baldur's lips. It's pure clear burn that he has to swallow. The world dips and spins around him, but his heart keeps racing.

"... I wonder," Sir says, voice nearly a whisper, "How long you'll live when I don't want you anymore."

-

God, I'm so glad that guy is dead now.

[dndorkdoggo]

Monster of the Week

The Rangers of Power are sent to stop a monster rampaging the streets, but “its” face is too familiar for the beloved Blue Ranger.

Ranger!Glib/Skog (3,795 words)

~~

“Hey, lover boy!” Charlie coos as Glib walks through the door to their dorm. “How was your date?”

“With your totally real boyfriend,” Phlash teases from his usual spot on the couch.

Glib levels a glare at the Goliath before saying, “My date was great. We went to a restaurant on the north side of town.”

Specks is sitting in the middle of the living room with a myriad of scrolls around him, clearly in the middle of studying, but he looks up, readjusting his glasses. “Did you ask if we can meet him yet?”

Glib snickers as he nods. His friends have been hounding him for months to meet his boyfriend. The only information that they had gotten about him is that he is a full-blooded orc who is quite a bit older than Glib and has a lot of money. “Yeah, he finally agreed.” Glib shrugs off his jacket, throwing it on the coat rack.

It was less that he finally agreed and more than Glib thought it was safe enough to bring him around. While his friends had been ecstatic to learn that Glib had found someone, Ggarok had thought it was a trap that Glib was foolish enough to fall for. Rangers aren’t supposed to keep in close contact with loved ones, let alone make new loved ones.

From somewhere behind him he hears the tell-tale sound of B.B. prepping a spell blast on his latest gun. “Good, I finally get to give the tall bastard the shovel talk,” the dwarf-gnome says with manic glee.

“As if, B.B. He’ll break that damn gun of yours like a toothpick,” Glib shoots back. “And then offer to cover the costs because he’s nice like that.”

“He can’t break Baby…” B.B. grumbles as he unracks his shot.

“Yes, he can and he will, I watched him bend a damn crowbar in half because he didn’t like it,” Glib says as he joins the others in the living room.

“Baby is stronger than a crowbar!” B.B. snaps.

The human looks at the gnome-dwarf with a crooked smile. “How much are you willing to bet on that?”

They hold tense eye contact for a moment before breaking away with snickers.

“So when and where are we meeting this guy?” Phlash asks, clearly higher than a kite as he tacks on, “I wanna see if I’m taller than him.”

Glib rolls his eyes. “The shakes place we normally eat at. He said he wanted you guys to have home-field advantage.”

“So, we won’t see him all dolled up in those suits you love so much?” Charlie asks with faux worry and disappointment.

“No, you will. He’s meeting us after work, he won’t have time to change,” Glib explains as he sits next to the Goliath, reclaiming his spot.

“We should show up in suits,” Phlash says, nodding at his own statement like it was sage advice.

Charlie oo’s as she leans over the couch. “I like that idea. Suits are so my style.”

“I think he’s referring to formal suits, Chip,” Specs corrects, barely looking up from his scrolls.

“Yeah, not whatever you wore to formal,” B.B. tacks on in a clear joking tone.

Specs looks up tiredly. “That is not what I said.”

“But it is what you meant,” B.B. points out.

“You are putting words in my mouth,” Specs grumbles.

“Wouldn’t that just be sign language for Vaktaan?” Phlash, ever the philosophical man he is, points out.

“No, the mouths can talk! They would have no need for sign language because their minds are all connected see in the story of-”

“Okay,” Charlie says, cutting him off and holding the “o” for far longer than needed. “I’m going to bed before I have to listen to another stupid theology debate or lecture.” She pushes off the back of the couch and walks towards her room, calling “Night, boys!” over her shoulder and a chorus of “Night, Charlie!” following her as her door shuts.

“Yeah, I’m going to join her, night,” Glib says simply as he gets up and wanders into his room. He changes quickly before pulling out his sending stone. By now Skog should have gotten home and texted him that he was safe, but there are no new messages. Glib gets worried for a moment before deciding that the charge on his stone must’ve worn off on the walk, it was nearly gone anyway. The human dismisses his anxiety and lays down, curling up in his favorite blankets with a stuffed animal that smelled like Skog.

He’s woken up several hours later by Specs rapping on his door as he does every morning after his morning prayer.

“I’m up! I’m up!” the human calls groggily, words slurring. He grabs his sending stone off his desk, expecting to see a good morning text from Skog, who wakes up an hour earlier than he does, but finds none. No calls, no texts, nothing.

His anxiety from last night comes back in force, a sick feeling settling in his stomach. He tells himself it’s okay. Skog probably woke up late and had to rush to get to work before getting swamped in meetings.

He swallows his anxiety, trying to shake it from his head as he walks into the common area.

“Morning to all my losers who sleep in late,” Charlie announces as Phlash, Glib, and B.B. file in. “We’ve got a problem.”

“Don’t we always?” Phlash questions as he yawns.

“Tell me ‘bout,” B.B. grumbles.

Specs waves a hand, getting their attention before silently motioning for everyone to gather around. “We need to get briefed by Ggarok.”

Seeing Ggarok is the last thing that Glib wanted to do, but if the city was in danger then it had to be done.

They beam into the cave, dim and artificially warmed by charms littered around the stone, and see Ggarok standing in front of the console, rapidly flipping through drone–bird feeds that survey the city.

“Professor Ggarok,” Specs says as they step off the teleportation pad, “What’s going on?”

Ggarok looks at them through the reflection of the screens. “Rangers,” he says flatly. “I was beginning to suspect you’d never arrive.”

“Unlike you, we actually need sleep,” Phlash says grumpily.

“What he means,” Specs says quickly, trying to prevent another fight from breaking out between the green ranger and their mentor, “Is the rangers were getting the rest required to fight effectively.”

Ggarok tsks. “Regardless, there is a monster loose in the city. Its rampage started this morning.”

“How long ago was ‘this morning’?” Glib questions, wondering if Skog got caught in it on his way to work.

“An hour ago.” The centaur finally turns from the monitor and eyes down the rangers, his gaze lingering on Glib, though that may just be the blue ranger’s paranoia. “The Bowenburg Guardsmen tried to handle the issue after an hour they decided to call in our help.”

“The B.G. tried handling it?” B.B. echoes. “They never try to get our monsters.”

“It does not look like a traditional Ranger’s Enemy,” Ggarok warns. “It looks like a civilian, but large and brutish. A barely civilized race, barbariac in nature. Said race is the ideal form for a clay monster to inhabit if it wants to exist among everyday people.” He levels a look at the group of Rangers and seems to stare directly into Glib’s soul. “Remember, it is still a clay monster even if it looks like a civilian. You must kill it.”

All the Rangers nod solemnly before spreading out slightly. This part had never been Glib’s favorite. It's slow and too flashy for his taste, but it has to be done because of tradition.

“It’s Morphing Time!” the Rangers say in unison, easy to do after years of practice, with varying levels of enthusiasm.

“Pink Beholder!” Specs, their leader and the most enthusiastic of them all, calls out excitedly. His suit is the best maintained out of all of them, as pink as the day it was made and constantly fixed with mending spells and a classic needle and thread.

“Red Dragon!” B.B. shouts. He’s not excited to defend the city like Specs is, he’s excited to shoot some monsters with his gun. B.B. made the suits but his looks the worst for wear. The once bright red leather is a near blood red as it is caked with dirt and accented by black soot.

“Yellow Owlbear!” Charlie has always been the middle of the road with the transformation. She wants to fight alongside her friends to defend their homes, but she would also rather not be in danger as frequently as they are. Her suit represents that ideal as it is maintained but clearly been used in battles, the yellow is bright but not as bright as it once was.

“Green Myconid!” Phlash calls out, somehow already high despite them just having woken up and clearly not wanting to go into a battle so early in the morning. His green suit is the heaviest enchanted as it stays with him as he wild shapes into a wolf. Glib isn’t sure how it’s possible but the goliath looks high while masked; although, it might just be because Glib knows what to look for.

“Blue Kraken!” Glib, always the last in the lineup and the most scared of them, says tiredly. He loves the city, but he is not a fighter. He’s strong and agile, sure, but that’s meant to avoid attacks not dive into them. His suit looks the worst, but not for a lack of trying. The once vibrant blue is now reminiscent of the ocean at midnight, a near-black blue daunting and unwelcoming. It's littered with sewn-together pieces and magically enhanced to resist more than the others. He gets hurt the most and his suit reflects that.

Specs swings around in front of them, practically bouncing up and down, as he says, “Alright Rangers, let’s go kick some monster butt!”

He’s met with a tired cheer which quickly becomes loud and excited when Ggarok levels a glare at their heads.

They huddle up and in a flash of multicolored, crackling light, they teleport into the city. Glib recognizes the street they are on, it's only a few blocks away from Skog’s Penthouse. The human tries to think about what that could mean as he and his friends identify the horrible monster they are meant to destroy so peace can be restored to their town.

But Glib couldn’t believe his eyes. The “horrible monster” they were meant to be fighting was a familiar orc in a tattered pinstripe suit, but the look in his eye was foreign. Gone are the soft smiles and kind looks he gives Glib over dinner and the low rumbling chuckle that is reserved for Glib. In its place is an orc from legends of old, filled with bloodlust and anger, foaming at the mouth, and not caring about the several deep cuts littering his body.

He lumbers forward, almost blindly, as he swings the broken light post with rage, a rage that Glib has never seen on his lover. Glib stands deathly still and can’t bring himself to move.

“Ranger Blue!” Charlie calls, dutifully using their Ranger “names” in uniform. “What are you doing?! Get the monster!”

Glib’s eyes leave the orc for only a moment as he sees the other Rangers fanned out around Skog, weapons drawn.

Glib tries to ready his weapon, a bo staff that breaks apart into chain whips, but the idea of hurting Skog makes him physically ill even if Skog is a raging “monster.”

The orc lunges at a random civilian only to be knocked back by a firebolt from B.B.’s gun, scorching the orc’s thick skin and causing him to scream. While the sound was logically from anger, Glib only hears pain.

“Don’t hurt him!” Glib screeches without thinking as he darts forward. “Skog!” he screams, trying to get the orc’s attention.

Skog doesn’t look at him and instead roars in B.B.’s direction. It's a sound that should make his blood run cold but instead, it makes him run faster. Skog doesn’t acknowledge him as grabs a chunk of concrete and hurls it at Specs who brings his shield up at the last moment, getting thrown back with the force of the hit and crashing into a building. For a moment, Glib wants to change directions to help his friend but he can’t stop.

“Skog!” he screams once he gets closer. “Skog, look at me!”

The orc goes unnaturally still as he cocks his head in Glib’s direction.

Glib gets closer, moving slowly, knowing his boyfriend isn’t in his right mind. “Skog, it’s me, it’s-” he pauses and glances around. There aren’t any civilians close enough to hear him. “It’s Glib.”

Skog twitches as turns to look at him. His green-grey skin is spotted with dark blood and cuts with black lines that crackle with energy surrounding his eyes and streaking across his face and down his neck. His scleras are black with purple lines that pulse with the same energy. He breathes heavily as he leans down to get into Glib’s face.

Glib stands still. “It’s me, baby, it’s me,” he murmurs. It's unnerving to see Skog like this. Almost unseeing as he peers into the mask and seemingly through it, staring into Glib’s soul with his discolored eyes.

Vague recognition flashes in the orc's eyes as he makes a low grumbling noise that almost sounds like “Glib?”

Glib could melt at the sound but it also makes him want to cry, throw up, and scream, but instead, he just shakes slightly, fighting hard to keep the quiver from his voice. “Yes, Glib.” He slowly reaches up to touch Skog’s face. “What happened to you?”

Before he can answer, a giant wolf in a green suit tackles the orc to the ground, startling Glib back.

“Phlash!” he screeches as he stumbles. “Get off of him!”

“Ranger Blue!” Specs yells as he runs up behind him. B.B. and Charlie get on either side of the orc and level their weapons on him as he struggles under Phlash. “Have you been compromised?! That is our monster! You can’t reason with it!”

“‘It?!’” Glib screams back. “He is under some sort of spell!”

“Ggarok said it is a creation!” Specs snaps back.

“He isn’t a creation!”

“Vaktaan damn it, why are you so sure of that?!”

“Because that’s my boyfriend!” Glib cries, the shaking in his hands having extended to his entire body.

Before any of them can respond, Phlash goes hurtling through the air with Skog getting to his feet far faster than a 7’8” man should be able to. He uses that surprise to grab B.B. and throw him into Specs and Glib sending the human, goblin, and gnome-dwarf back several feet. Before Charlie can get a retaliation strike on him, he’s lunging at a group of trapped civilians on the other side of the street.

“That’s the boyfriend you’ve been talkin’ about?!” B.B., ever the rational dwarf-gnome that he is, screeches as they untangle themselves and get up.

“Well, he’s not normally like this!” Glib growls as a chuck of concrete hurtles toward the trapped group and hits the building behind them, shattering to dust and leaving a creator on the building’s side.

Wolf Phlash dashes past them before body-slamming Skog again, this time knocking him away from a group of scared civilians and towards Charlie. “What are you talking about? He seems so chill,” Phlash says smugly.

“Yeah, you should bring him by for coffee sometime, I’m sure he’d- fuck-!” Charlie yelps as Skog swipes her feet out from under her.

Specs looks at him for a moment. “And you are sure this is him?”

“Has to be,” Glib says, letting his desperation slip into his voice. “He recognized me, Specs, he knew my voice and reacted to his name.” When Specs doesn’t seem convinced, Glib grasps at straws. “He’s bleeding, Specs. Clay monsters don’t bleed.”

The leader is silent for a moment before running back into the fight. Glib has a moment of fear that Specs didn’t listen to his pleas but then the leader shouts, “Nonlethal damage! We want to bring him down!”

B.B. audibly groans in disappointment but knows better than to argue with Specs and switches his gun’s spell into thunderclap, firing a shot at him. The blast throws him forward and off balance before Phlash tackles him again, this time simply trying to pin him to the ground instead of knocking his head into the concrete. Charlie brings her axe in front of her and begins to aggressively strum the strings that run up and down the handle.

“Go the fuck to sleep!” she says, magic lacing her words and suddenly the orc stops moving, collapsing entirely.

Glib runs over as Phlash slowly steps off him. He starts to take inventory of his injuries while also using the tattered remains of his suit jacket to staunch the bleeding in as many cuts as he can.

Faintly behind him, Glib can hear Specs talking with the others. “Clear out civilians and get the B.G. to set up a perimeter and to check for others under a similar effect.”

“Do you think there are more?” Charlie asks.

Specs is silent momentarily before saying, “Can’t rule anything out, especially since we caught this one so early. Tell the B.G. should any others become violent, to use nonlethal damage. They’re just civilians under a spell.” There is a moment of silence as the others leave to do as they were told before Specs approaches the human. He sits on the opposite side of Glib and waves his hand over Skog, muttering in an ancient language. “You’re right, he’s just-”

“Under mind control?” Glib asks hopefully to which the goblin nods.

“An enchantment.” Glib can’t see Specs' face, but he knows what he’s thinking. He clearly recognizes where the magic comes from and the magic recognizes him. “A very powerful one.”

“Can you break it?”

Specs is silent for a moment before nodding and placing his hands over Skog’s chest. “I can certainly try.” He pauses. “But that will also remove Charlie’s sleep spell.

“He’ll wake up eventually,” Glib reasons. “You could at least try to make sure he is back to himself when that happens.”

Specs sighs but nods regardless. He takes a slow deep breath before murmuring in the same ancient language. Glib and the other Rangers are supposed to be fluent in it, but the only one who seems to be is Specs.

The human watches in amazement as the dark lines slowly retract up his neck and face, but Specs begins to strain once the magic is only left around his eyes.

Glib, desperate to get his boyfriend back, begins talking to him, murmuring inconsequential things to him. His hand interlocks with the orc’s, clinging to the dull pulse in his fingers like a lifeline. He can feel Skog react to his touch but his hand still stays loose in his hand.

“I love you, I love you so much. You mean everything to me. I can’t survive without you. Come back to me, damn it all, just come back to me.” He’s not sure when he closed his eyes, nor is he sure when he started to lean over him like he was saying a prayer with Specs, but he shoots up when Skog murmurs, “I love you too, but you make it sound like I’m dying.”

“Skog!” He shrieks, abandoning his hand and diving forward to hug the orc tightly, minding his severe injuries.

“Ranger Blue,” Specs says gently, still exhausted from the spell. “You are still in uniform.”

“It’s alright,” Skog assures as he slowly raises his hands to rest on Glib’s back, running his hands up and down the suit material in a soothing manner as the human shakes like a leaf. “I was able to deduce Glib was Ranger Blue and his friends the other Rnagers of Power months ago.”

“Glib?!” Specs snaps, terrified that their secret identities have been compromised.

Skog waves a bloody hand. “I figured it out after my 5’7” husband was able to pick me up and run with me during an assassination attempt.”

“I panicked!” Glib grumbles, not bothering to lift his face from Skog’s tattered shirt.

“What about the time you managed to dive under a collapsing marble pillar, grab a little girl, throw her out of harm's way, and then catch the majority of that pillar's weight to keep it from doing untold damage?” Skog questions teasingly.

Glib grumbles before saying, “It wasn’t that heavy.”

“They weigh over a hundred thousand pounds,” Skog counters.

“I didn’t hold it for very long.”

Skog chuckles. It is a warm sound, but pained at the edges as the movement pulls on his wounds. “You held it for ten seconds when it should have crushed you.”

Glib says something incomprehensible into Skog’s shirt in response.

“Regardless, after that, it was easy to identity the constant fresh bruises as marks from weapons, not to mention it was odd how he would consistently disappear right as a new monster showed up, regardless of what we were doing,” Skog elaborates.

Specs looks between them. “Why didn’t you lie, Glib?” Specs asks more for posterity’s sake than actually expecting a good answer.

“I tried, but you know I’m a shit liar,” the human answers.

“A truly horrendous liar. It’s one of your best traits I’d argue,” Skog teases, getting an exasperated groan in response.

“So, you know who I am?” the goblin questions.

“Speckles Beauregard,” Skog answers quickly. “The leader and academically inclined of the group.”

“He read you like a book, dude,” Charlie says as she approaches. “And sorry for knocking you out.”

Skog looks at her strangely. “You did what?”

At this, Glib raises his head. “Do you remember what happened?”

“I remember making sure you got home safely, walking back to my house, then rounding a corner and having a fairly painful spell put on me,” Skog recalls. “Past that, nothing.”

“How about we fill you in over some shakes?” B.B. offers as he rejoins the group.

“And I want you to stand up so I can see how tall you are,” Phlash demands immediately.

“Phlash, he’s hurt,” Glib groans.

“If he’s well enough for shakes, he’s well enough to see how much shorter than me he is.”

“She didn’t mean getting them right now! He’s going to the hospital first.”

“And I can see how tall he is before he gets there.”

“Phlash!”

[their-pebble-bear]

Safe (KiriBaku X Reader)

Okay so indulge me for a bit here please. I've been craving this prompt for like AGES but I haven't found one I haven't read yet with my men so y'all get to enjoy it with me.

I tried to keep it gender neutral but please do be informed, I keep this in mind with a female reader. If y'all have any tips please do not hesitate to send me a message or ask.

As always, minors do not interact or follow me.

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Masterlist - Requests Are Open

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Warnings: None. Cussing at most. Maybe death threats by our pommy.

Summary: Reader gets a new man but KiriBaku absolutely despise him. I mean who else is meant to love them the way they want to be loved right?

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They anxiously waited in their shared apartment together. What was taking them so long? Did this guy NOT have a phone or watch to see it's been 20 minutes since they were meant to be here? Katsuki was already docking down points, not that they were high to begin with, and Eiji was ready to pound this guy's head in.

Finally, the lock clicked open and in you walked with, they didn't bother to remember his name. The door shut closed as they sat on the couch looking like they are ready to interrogate the poor bastard.

"You're 20 fucking minutes late. Do you not own a god damn phone?!" Kats huffed already pissed off.

"Hey sharky! Nice to meet you...bro? Sorry I forget people's names a lot! Y/N's talked a lot about you! Please sit down." Eiji pointed towards the two very obviously placed one seater opposite them as Kats grabbed you by the waist and plopped you down between them.

You pursed your lips as a blush raised to your cheek. Oh god you knew this was gonna happen. The number two hero AND number 5 hero were obviously going to interrogate this poor man and there goes your dating life...again. At least Eiji always tried to be supportive but Kats? Nobody was good enough for you. The guy sat in the one-seater looking very intimidated by these clearly very buff pro heroes in front of him who could probably snap him like a toothpick for even looking at you incorrectly.

"So tell us about yourself! What do you do for work, what's your quirk, anything!" Eiji smiled as he wrapped an arm around your shoulder.

The guy started rambling and Kats just took in a deep breath just knowing this is never going to get anywhere. After 2 long hours of the interrogation he blurted out he had to leave and kissed you a quick peck before sprinting out.

"Guys, I am 24, living with two top 5 heroes. I'm confident I can date someone." You huffed.

"He was a fucking wuss! Couldn't even look me dead in the eye. How can he fucking protect you if you ever needed it hah?!" Kats spat wrapping an arm around your waist.

Eiji smiled and ruffled your hair. "You know sharky, there's a reason we're single. We both wanna date you. I'm tired of all this hiding. Nobody is ever gonna be good in our eyes because you have us darling."

Your eyes widened as you looked left and right at the two. "W-Wait what? You both want...me? Why? You could have anyone in the world and you guys chose...me?"

"Holy hell I pick the best idiots in the world huh? Fucking yes we chose you. You're so stupid, intelligent, you actually don't make me wanna blow a god damn fuse and the human rock next to you loves you too." Kats huffed grabbing your face and pulling you in for a kiss.

"HEY I WANT TO KISS THEM TOO!" Eiji huffed as he pulled you away from Kats to kiss you too.

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Please note! This is all my original work! I do not give permission to repost, credit yourself or steal my ideas. Reblogs are appreciated! The picture is not to be saved and used! That is originally made by my fiancé!

[yutafrita]

The Eternal Tragedy- CHAPTER TWO

Chapter ONE/ TWO/ THREE/ FOUR/ P/ B

⋆☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆⋆｡°✩🪐°. ⋆ ･: ⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆☾ ﾟ｡⋆⋆｡°✩⋆ ･:

DO YOU HAVE A COMRADE?

Pairing(s): Mafia!Yuta x Reader, Mafia!Sungchan x Reader Reader Pronouns: She/ Her Genre: Angst, Sci-Fi, Fantasy Chapter Word Count: 6.3K Warnings: Graphic violence, blood, alcohol use, references to catastrophic sci-fi events, references to sexual assault Masterlist

⋆☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆⋆｡°✩🪐°. ⋆ ･: ⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆☾ ﾟ｡⋆⋆｡°✩⋆ ･:

It started with flowers on your mirror at work. It was a bouquet of sunflowers wrapped neatly in a red tulle. Always with a note attached.

You had no idea why Sungchan would spend as much money as he was getting you sunflowers. They were impossible to grow on Mars and could only be farmed from Earth’s moon, making them obscenely expensive. You had never even touched real ones until the day after you first declined Sungchan’s offer.

Sunflowers had always reminded you of earth and the stories from the planet your grandfather would share with you. Anytime you studied old artworks from the period when humanity was on earth, you could almost always see the sunflowers there, calling to you.

But, how could Sungchan have guessed that these were the flowers you had always dreamed about? Tulips and roses had become just as rare a commodity as sunflowers, yet it was these that he chose. 

Several days after declining Sungchan’s initial offer, you headed out to work. Opening your apartment door you saw Yuta perched outside. Annoyed, you quickly locked your door and pushed past him.

“Not even a ‘hello?’ Or a, ‘why are you here?’” he sniggered, quickly catching up and matching your pace out of your apartment complex and onto the street.

“How did you even get into my complex? You need a card to even enter,” you stopped to ask him, ignoring the toothpick jutting out from his teeth.

“I just followed someone in- your neighbors are very nice,” you wished you could punch that stupid smirk off his face. You huffed, tightened your grip on the backpack you took to work and started back down the block.

“You know, every bouquet of sunflowers costs about a half a million bucks,” Yuta continued, matching your pace easily. “Even dead, those things can go for a very pretty penny.”

“He can have them back,” you refused to have something as silly as flowers hanging over your head, no matter how much you actually did like seeing them.

Yuta shook his head, taking out his toothpick. “It’s just very bold of you to be carrying them so openly every night into your apartment.”

“Is that a threat?”

“You’re quite confrontational,” he mused. Yuta followed behind you into the alley, shaking hands with several of the vendors as he did so.

“I’ve already told Sungchan- I don’t want that job. And I don’t like you just… showing up at my home,” you hissed the last part, not wanting any of the alley patrons to hear you.

“Well, Sungchan is just concerned about your safety, and I’m no one if not a people pleaser,” Yuta kept his eyes on the alley, his eyes scanning the shuffle of vendors.

“Bullshit. He sent you to intimidate me.”

Yuta whistled, his tail wagging enough for you to see it. “You’re feisty- that’s going to get you into trouble.”

You were trying to develop a comeback before he walked away from you, whistling as he did so, tail swaying playfully. “Bastard,” you muttered.

Slipping past the security guard after you got your coffee, you were greeted by yet another bouquet at your station.

“He splurged this time,” Seulgi whistled at you. Irene was having Seulgi fasten her red corset, who nodded towards you as she tightened the fastens on her cat-clawed friend. Shotaro had themed the night Angels versus Devils. It was clearly one of Seulgi’s favorite nights judging by the fact that she temporarily dyed her bunny ears red.

Seulgi was right- he did splurge. The bouquet was a mix of yellow tulips and sunflowers, easily double the already exorbitant price he had spent on the previous ones. It was clear to you that he was ramping up the pleading. You tried to pay the bouquet no mind as you changed out from your street clothes into the outfit you had shoved into your backpack.

“Oh thank god I’m not the only one dressing as an angel tonight,” Goeun smiled as she saw you put the small white wings onto the back of your short white dress.

“Bor-ing,” Seulgi teased.

“I’m just reusing an old halloween costume,” you admitted. 

“Maybe Sungchan will think it’s boring too,” Irene hummed. 

Seulgi sighed. “I still don’t understand why you won’t just take that job.”

“Not everyone comes from a syndicate family, Seulgi. I mean- I’d take the job too, but she has every right not to,” Irene defended.

“A job’s a job,” Seulgi shrugged. You all got ready with minimal chatting before Shotaro entered, clipboard first with a small halo on his head.

“Good evening ladies!” he cheered. After you all took your assignments, you stepped out from the beaded curtain to head over to the bartop, a familiar figure speaking to the security guard outside of your dressing room.

“Pretend to be excited to see me again, at least,” Yuta teased, seeming to enjoy the irritated look on your face. Scrunching your nose slightly, you ignored him and maneuvered to the bar, noting that he was following closely behind you. You moved to take your place behind the bar to start setting up as the fox man sat in a stool in the corner of the bartop.

“We aren’t even open yet,” you snapped at him.

“I’m here under official business from the boss, so that doesn’t matter,” he took out the toothpick from between his lips and lifted it towards you. “Throw this out for me, angel?”

You frowned, “don’t call me that.”

He tapped the crown of his head, “I was referring to your costume, but I do like how much it bothers you.”

You rolled your eyes, snatching the toothpick from him and tossing it into the trash can without another thought. You continued to ignore Yuta, speaking openly with Goeun as you two continued to set up the bar.

“I’m really hoping these stupid costumes help with tips tonight,” you mindlessly admitted to her. 

“Me too! I’ve had my eye on this vintage movie collection for a while so I’m hoping I can put a bid on it tomorrow.”

“Oh that’s so fun! I was just putting it in my savings,” you chuckled. You always knew that Goeun was the cooler of you two, but it was small admissions like this that reminded you of this fact.

“I don’t trust banks,” she muttered. Goeun wasn’t alone in this hesitation. After earth became uninhabitable and humanity spread itself across the solar system, the banks crashed and caused billions of people to be penniless. Nowadays, despite most banks claiming to be extremely secure, citizens of the solar system tend to rely on older methods of finance and saving. Your mother stuck to the method of hiding the family’s savings under the mattress, and after some trial and error in your college days, you found the water tank of the toilet to be the best method for you.

“Me neither. I’m just trying to save to buy a house.”

“Bor-ing,” she giggled, gently shoving your arm. Shortly thereafter, the club was open and in full swing- customers asking for their drinks and the two of you moving as quickly and efficiently as possible.

“Can you get me some soju, angel?” Yuta asked, setting his empty glass of whiskey on the counter.

You shook your head. “You know the policy is fifteen minutes minimum between drinks.”

“I made that policy.”

You paused your mixing, shooting the fox man a glare. “Does every member of the syndicate have a hand in this god damn club?” it was getting aggravating for you. Between Jisung being trained in different areas of the club, your boss, the owner, and now the person following you around all having such ties to the club and the syndicate, you were exhausted trying to keep up.

“I'm the head of security. How do you not know that?”

“I don’t ask questions,” you returned to making drinks for those at the bar, shooting smiles as you did.

“That makes for a great accountant,” he smirked. You ignored him, forcing your smile as you poured over the drinks and slid them down to the patrons. You rubbed your sweaty hands on the hem of your dress, looking back up to meet Yuta’s gaze. He lifted his glass again, wiggling his wrist as he did so. “It’s been fifteen minutes.”

You absentmindedly handed Yuta his bottle of soju, moving down the bartop to continue your job.

“How’s it going?” Goeun maintained her smile as she mixed her drinks.

“As good as it can be!” your smile was still noticeably forced. Shotaro rarely had you working as a bartender and usually preferred to have you as a waitress as evident by your normal shifts. However, he also wanted you to occasionally bartend and not get rusty, so, during the week he found it fun to throw you behind the bar with Goeun.

As the night passed and patrons started to slowly dwindle, you began to clean up the counter, collecting tips as you went. The feeling of the cash between your fingers and weighing on your small apron made an authentic smile appear across your lips. You continued clearing out glasses and waving goodbye to your patrons, all the while well aware of Yuta’s eyes following your every movement.

“So, if you aren’t following me around to just force me into this job,” you were topping off Yuta’s last drink for the night, “what is the reason?”

“I told you. Sungchan’s worried about your safety.”

“Hm, just as I thought. He’s a bad bullshitter,” you moved away from Yuta, keeping the smirk on your face as you imagined his dumbfounded expression.

“I told him he should just move on and find another accountant,” this caught your attention, and you swiveled around on the heel of your boot to study Yuta’s expression. “It’s obvious you don’t want to deal with the price of being a part of the syndicate, and I respect you, angel.”

You were quiet, the soft hum of the closing of the bar being the only sound between the two of you. 

“You’re being serious,” it wasn’t a question, just an observation.

“Sungchan doesn’t take well to not getting what he wants. Guy like him doesn’t become the leader of a crime syndicate by taking no for an answer,” Yuta gently pushed the glass towards you. “I also haven’t seen him ever work so hard to appeal to someone's affections.”

This made you pause. “Affections?”

Yuta furrowed his eyebrows. “Affections. Duh.”

A shiver ran down your spine. “So it isn’t just about that stupid job?”

Yuta laughed, swiping under his eye before he replied, “he won’t admit it. I don’t think it’s about the job- although, it would be a plus to have that position filled.”

For the rest of the week, everytime you would step out of your apartment to work, you came to expect Yuta’s presence. Rather than lurking from a distance, he enjoyed annoying you into small talk. At the same time, whenever you would enter work, you came to expect some other object at your station.

With flowers, you found yourself accepting it mainly because of the fact that you knew they would die soon in the Mars atmosphere anyways. However, when Sungchan began leaving more permanent items as gifts- necklaces, handbags, and today, a laptop, you found yourself dumping them into Yuta’s arms on your way to your assigned place of work.

“For all he’s spending on gifts he could be paying someone else to do the damn job,” you hissed at Yuta.

“I told him the same thing,” he whistled, unphased as he handed the laptop off to another member of club security. 

Yuta had taken to being in a corner of the room whenever you worked- far away enough that he wouldn’t breathe over your neck, but always close enough that you could feel his eyes on you no matter what. 

It was still difficult to meet his gaze for a few reasons. One reason was simply because it bothered you that you had put up with Yuta following closely behind you at all times. The second reason was because you still weren’t used to observing beauty like his so closely. You may not like the fact that he was a syndicate member nor the fact that he wouldn’t leave you be, but you would be a liar if you couldn’t admit that he was one of if not the most attractive person you had ever seen. 

It didn’t help how you’d sometimes find your mind wandering whenever you did look at Yuta. You wondered if his lips really were as soft as they looked. You wondered if his fingers were as nimble as they were whenever he played cards with other syndicate members. You wondered if he was as generous as a lover as he was whenever he’d tip you and the rest of the waitstaff.

Difficult, was becoming an understatement.

All the while, you hadn’t seen Sungchan since your first encounter with him, now nearly a month ago. Despite all the gifts he had thrown your way, the note on each of them was the same: I wait for your answer -J.S.

It bugged you more than Yuta following you around did. You already gave Sungchan your answer- but it wasn’t the answer Sungchan had wanted. 

Before work one day, you were eating a small snack of dandelion cookies, scrolling through listings of houses on your laptop.

Condo on Mars!

HOME ON SATURN MOON.

Apartments for Rent on Jupiter's Moons.

You shuddered reading the ads for Jupiter and Saturn's moons. Jupiter, Saturn, and Neptune were the only planets in the solar system humans had not managed to properly colonize yet, but they have done a pretty solid job of colonizing their surrounding moons.

Begrudgingly, you shoved your costume for the night into your backpack and slipped out of the apartment. Like clockwork, you heard the sound of feet following behind you. You paused. These footsteps were different from the ones you had grown used to. Whipping your body around, your breathing halted.

“You look adorable,” Sungchan smiled, moving towards you with far too much familiarity. Instinctually, you stepped back. Sungchan stopped in his tracks, his eyes facing down at your feet.

“What are you doing here?” you asked, your voice coming out far more meek than you would have liked it to. Sungchan’s eyes moved up to meet yours and you felt the hairs on the back of your neck rise as they did. He was undeniably handsome, but unlike Yuta, there was something lingering in the back of this young man’s eyes- something you noticed the first time but only truly felt now.

Sungchan straightened out his tie before he spoke. “I asked Yuta to make sure you were safe while I was away on business, but I’m back now. Don’t need to bother the head of security if I’m available.”

“I don’t need protection. I’ve worked at your bar for over two years just fine,” you huffed. Not waiting for Sungchan to formulate a response, you started down the steps and out onto the streets. You may not have seen him in a month, but you were able to stew in your anger the whole time.

“I didn’t know that you were there, though,” Sungchan had managed to catch up to you, walking side by side with you down the sidewalk. Upon seeing his accentors, people nearly threw themselves out of the way, and you caught the corner of his lip raise in a smirk. 

“Whatever that means. Can you just… leave me alone? I already told you- I don’t want the job as the accountant,” you plead. A small, foolish part hoped that if you were direct enough, that Sungchan would understand and leave you alone. 

“I would have left you alone a long time ago if I could,” he replied blankly, his eyes watching your expression closely. Foolish.

“Why do you keep talking to me like that?” you stopped outside of the alleyway, well aware of the gazes streaming through as they watched the head of the largest syndicate speaking openly to one of his waitresses while not on the clock. “Why are you so… ominous? And why are you talking like you have no pride? Or agency? My god… I thought you were the boss.”

“I am the head of the largest syndicate in the solar system, I have more agency than you could even dream of,” this seemed to have struck a nerve in the deer as he glared down at you.

“Then why can’t you leave me alone?” 

Sungchan clenched his jaw before he ran his hand past his face and through the front of his hairline. “Just… consider my offer. I’ll see you tonight,” he brushed past you then, moving to enter the front of the Garden.

***

Shotaro had handed you an outfit to wear for the night, much to your dismay. He seemed to feel bad about it as he saw you open the box and pull out the ridiculous costume- well, ridiculous to you at least.

“This is a brand new skirt from Louis Vitriol. It was just in Paris-York Fashion week,” Irene admired the short plaid skirt, taking it from the box Shotaro handed to you.

“This is authentic Venus craftsmanship… These garters are hundreds of dollars each,” Seulgi added, her fingers tracing over the leather work. You shook your head, the heat rising to your face as you stared down at the note buried inside the box indicating who it was from.

“I’m not wearing this,” you felt your chest swell in anger. Shotaro rubbed the back of his neck, looking away from you as if he were ashamed.

“If you don’t wear it, I was told to send you away for the night.”

“Fine!”

“And then to fire you for walking off the job,” he muttered, his eyes darting away.

“You can’t do that,” Goeun spoke for you, her anger stifled by the silly schoolgirl outfit she had on. The theme was back to school, and while the outfit you had originally planned was skimpy, it paled in comparison to what Sungchan wanted you to wear.

“You’ll be working in the downstairs area tonight, so no one else will see you,” Shotaro added as if to comfort you. 

“Who would see me, then?” you asked, knowing the answer. Shotaro was quiet as he took a step back, announcing everyone else's place for the night and getting them out of the dressing room.

“I’ll be right out here. Once you’re ready I’ll take you downstairs,” Shotaro leaned in closely then, “if he tries something you don’t like, book it out of there. I’ll make sure you keep your job.” There was a weight placed into your front pocket, and then, you were alone. The outfit Sungchan had forced you into left little to the imagination, but tucked into your outer thigh and strapped in by the garter belt was the knife Shotaro had snuck to you. You had never gone to the downstairs area of the club. You knew this was where Shotaro’s office was, but never cared to learn more. 

Shotaro had led you down the marble steps and simply said, “last door at the end of the hall.”

Walking alone, the only sound was your platformed boots squeaking along the marble floor. You felt miserable. It’s not that you weren’t confident in yourself, you just hated the feeling of being so exposed- especially against your will. Your ass hung out from the bottom of the miniskirt, your button up shirt showed a little more of your torso and tits than you would have liked, and the garter belt emphasized far more than you deemed necessary. 

You were marching into Sungchan’s office fully ready to quit. You didn’t need this shit! You had saved enough money, and hell, you had a masters degree! He may be head of the syndicate and have his finger in every pie in the city, but he couldn’t control you.

Steeling yourself, you didn’t bother knocking before turning the handle to enter the space.

You weren’t sure what you expected. Maybe a large torture room where he showed you what happens to people who refuse his bidding. You even half expected a ridiculously lavish lounge filled to the brim with gold and other silly, opulent objects.

What you didn’t expect was what you got- a simple office with an oak desk, and several overstuffed bookshelves along the walls. In front of the desk sat Sungchan in a stool not meant for someone of his height as he hunched in front of a blank canvas. He was facing another small stool that stood empty. Sungchan turned his head your way and unabashedly stared at your chest.

“My eyes are up here, dipshit.”

“I guess I was never subtle,” Sungchan turned his gaze back up to your eyes. “Take a seat.”

“Why?”

Sungchan furrowed his brows, seeming to suck out the small bit of courage you were feeling as he did so. He raised a free hand and dug into his suit jacket before yanking out a paper.

“I heard through the grapevine that you’re looking to buy a home away from Nuevo Seoul.”

You didn’t even bother asking how he knew this, for it was obvious to you that Yuta had heard your conversations with Goeun.

“What if I told you that I have in my hand a deed to land that is yours to have?”

You shook your head. “It doesn’t matter. Plus, I doubt-.”

“It’s on the moon, the part that faces earth.”

You were silent. The community on the moon consisted of two things- the extremely wealthy families who could afford the plots of land there, and the two farmlands that managed to grow earthlike crops for a pretty penny. It was as close to earth as you could possibly get, but even on your nice salary it would be impossible to afford, hell, even with as much as the syndicate made it still didn’t seem possible.

How could Sungchan have possibly known that this was what you wanted?

Your bottom lip trembling, you forced a false confidence. “How do I even know that deed is real?”

He tucked the paper away into his suit jacket, turning back to face the canvas. “Take a seat and we can talk about it.”

You stood still at the door, glaring at Sungchan’s back. You couldn’t deny that you were curious about the deed, but you also reminded yourself of the immense distress even being in the same room as him caused you. The time ticked. Slowly, you walked yourself past Sungchan and to the empty stool across from him and the canvas. You didn’t miss the small smile that appeared on his lips that vanished just as quickly.

“You look lovely.”

“I hate this outfit. Now, tell me about the deed.”

“Can you cross your legs and place both your hands over your thigh?” he instructed, pointing at you with the pencil in his hand. Pressing your lips together, you crossed your ankles and set your two balled up fist on your overexposed thigh. “It’s a house my family has owned on the moon since humanity first colonized the solar system.”

“And why would you give that to me?”

“Because I know it’s the one thing that would convince you to stay near me,” Sungchan replied bluntly as he started to lightly sketch. 

“Why can’t you take no for an answer?”

He paused on his sketch, meeting your gaze now. You hated how attractive he was- his brown eyes seeming to pin you down where you sat. He was younger than Yuta at least at first blush, but there was something in the younger man’s eyes that showed someone wise beyond his years.

“Why the moon?”

You purse your lips at his question. You had never verbalized the truth to anyone- even in your head it felt… silly.

“It’s because the earth calls to you, isn’t it,” Sungchan looked back down at this canvas, and your eyes widened. “It calls to you, and even though you know the earth is no longer safe, you wish to be in its orbit and as close to it as possible. Is this correct?”

“H-how…?”

“I know lots of things,” he hummed, “and I could say the same. I feel called to you, and I want to be in your orbit.”

There were a lot of things wrong with his response. For one thing- the earth couldn’t speak for itself while you could. Perhaps it was because he was the first person to ever put together your fascination with the deserted planet and seem to respect it, but you stayed on the stool, watching him slowly sketch.

“Why did you put me in this stupid outfit?”

“I just wanted everyone to see how adorable you are,” he countered, a sly smile turning his face up. You looked away in embarrassment, staring at one of the many bookshelves he had in his office. He scared you, but you couldn’t deny the way you felt flattered by his attraction towards you. “Eyes on me please… I’m trying to get this lighting right.”

You turned your face back, hoping the blush faded away.

“You don’t seem like someone who does art.”

“That’s a little judgemental of you, no?”

You shrugged. “When I think of the head of the syndicate, I don’t think of someone who is as young as you who also is an artist.”

Sungchan chuckled then, still sketching. “I’m a lot older than I look.”

“Your head of security seems older than you.”

“I knew it was unwise to have you spending more time with him,” Sungchan clicked his tongue, glaring down at the canvas before his eyes flitted back to you. You looked at his deer horns, and how in the dim lighting of his office, they seemed golden, making his wings appear heavenly.

“He’s nice,” you defended.

“I’m sure that’s all you think about with him,” Sungchan sounded bored, the bite in his statement not being there in the way you would have expected. Before you could remind him of the fact that he’s the one that forced Yuta to watch you, there was a loud pounding at the office door, making you jump slightly in your seat. Within the blink of an eye, there was a weight on your lap. It was Sungchan’s blazer.

“Put this on, if you want,” while there was leniency in his words, one look in his eyes showed that it wasn’t merely a suggestion. Annoyed but all the while pleased to have some coverage, you slipped on the blazer. 

“Sir we need final input on the se-,” the man walking in paused before squinting at you, “the stuff that is legal. Hey, weren’t you that waitress who trained little Jisung?”

“One of them, yeah,” you recognized the man from the night you met Yuta. He sat a few booths down and was notable to you only for the fact that he was the only one at the booth without any accentors. Tonight, he had on a full suit and held in his hands a manilla folder. 

“I thought you only did still life paintings,” Johnny looked teasingly at Sungchan who ignored the man's comment and took the folder in his hand.

“Hm,” was all Sungchan said as he glanced over the contents. He sat back down at the canvas, leafing through a few more pages. “How distraught is she?”

“Extremely,” Johnny replied, his lips pressed tightly together. “I don’t blame her.”

“Of course not. Well…” Sungchan looked up at you, cocking his eyebrow, “can you pick a number between one and ten for me?”

Your face twisted in confusion, Sungchan’s unmoving expression giving nothing away. You caught Johnny’s chuckle and felt a small twinge of irritation.

“Three.”

“You’re much too nice… Fine. Cut three fingers and three toes- but make one of them his thumb, that’s all,” Sungchan handed the folder back to Johnny who quickly shuffled out from the office.

You jumped off the stool, eyes wide in horror and disgust. “What the fuck?”

“Hm?” Sungchan seemed bored again, looking back at where you stood. “Ah can you sit back down? I was almost done sketching.”

“Don’t use me in your sick fucking games!” You shouted, throwing off his blazer and tossing it to the ground.

“He assaulted her.”

You froze where you stood, ice flooding your veins and keeping you from moving. “What?”

“One of the syndicate-run brothels had an incident where a client ignored the boundaries of our workers. I would say he deserved to be punished,” Sungchan hummed. “I normally would want them to be castrated but we’ll just have the cops do that themselves.”

You were back on the stool for what felt like several hours then, your mind wallowing in a shame you couldn’t even begin to articulate. You hated Sungchan for pushing your own boundaries and his numerous attempts to get you to do a job you did not feel comfortable doing, yet, you were still in awe at the realization that they actually took care of all their workers. 

Sex work on Mars was illegal, but in Nuevo Seoul (especially if you were connected to the Dragon Crime Syndicate), the cops were willing to turn a blind eye to the brothels. At your job, Shotaro and the security team were always helpful. You hated working for the syndicate not because of how they treated you, but because you feared the repercussions of getting caught. 

Then, a petty, stupid, thought intruded into your brain; if Sungchan was willing to torture a man for someone he didn’t even know, what lengths would he go to for you?

You were quiet until Sungchan checked the time on his watch. “Seems like it’s closing time,” he sat up from the stool and dug into the pocket of his pants, taking out his wallet.

You stood up from your stool and brushed past him on your way towards the door. “Don’t worry about it.”

“You’ll be getting paid for your time in one way or another,” he replied, putting his wallet back in his pocket nonetheless. It was one thing for you to take money from patrons, but it felt like a whole other thing to take money from the owner of the bar, especially when you felt so sick in your gut. “I’ll be walking you home now.”

“I’d rather be alone,” you knew it was pointless, especially as you felt Sungchan set his blazer jacket back atop your shoulders.

“Neuvo Seoul may be safer than other big cities, but no way in hell you’re walking out of here dressed like that on your own.”

You clenched your jaw. “You made me wear this shit.”

He simpered, “I know.”

You followed behind Sungchan down the marble hall. When you initially made your way down, you had ignored your surroundings in a blind rage and fear. Now, you observed the different statues teeming about, the way each square inch of the walls held a priceless painting. You stopped in front of one, leaning in closely to confirm your suspicions.

“These are original paintings,” Sungchan answered for you. You didn’t turn around, knowing that he stood merely an inch away from your back. “It’s the abduction of Persephone.”

The painting was horrifying to you. The dark colors swallowed the two primary figures. There were hands clawing through the ground to try and save a struggling Persephone as she fought against her abductor. It was beautiful, this was undeniable, but you couldn’t deny the agony you felt when you saw it.

“I thought most Rembrandt paintings were destroyed when the earth was.”

“This one was a part of a big heist in the late 1900s, and whoever stole it sent it to the moon with some rich patrons decades later,” Sungchan explained. “Did you take an art history class?”

You shook your head, “my Mom works for the Paris-York Museum of Art.” 

“Ah, sounds like an interesting lady,” Sungchan’s voice sounded more distant. You turned your head back, seeing that he now stood several steps away, his eyes locked onto your own. 

The club was clearing out slowly, and as you made it back to the ground level, you saw Irene and Seulgi both gaze at you with clear looks of concern as they watched you re-enter with the head of the syndicate. 

“Good night!” Shotaro called over, his smile so bright despite the dark cloud that seemed to follow Sungchan. Maneuvering past other high up syndicate members all making sure to say goodbye to him, you and Sungchan were greeted by the chill of Mars’ night air.  While the man-made atmosphere made it possible for humans to generally survive on the planet, there wasn’t much it could do about the planet’s inclination to become frigid at night.

Begrudgingly, you slipped your arms through Sungchan’s blazer, sighing as the warmth enveloped your chest. You looked at the man who had his sleeves rolled up, arms tucked behind him as he quietly walked next to you.

“I like the cold,” he seemed to read your mind, his eyes glancing over at you. You averted your gaze, and focused on the nightlife that seemed to be slowly dwindling. You had gotten used to the odd schedule of finishing work at three in the morning, but you would never get used to Mars’ red moons in the sky and the citizens of Nuevo Seoul who also seemed to be finishing their own late night shifts. You looked back over at Sungchan, his wings fully exposed now that you wore his blazer.

“Do you cut out holes in all your shirts for those things?” you caught yourself absentmindedly asking. He stopped walking, his eyes studying you then. You realized what, to you, was an error- you felt comfortable enough around him to ask such a rude question. 

Then, he chuckled, “sometimes I do, but this shirt was tailored for me.”

You let go of a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding, nodding as you turned your gaze back down to your feet.

“You really shouldn’t be so curious,” Sungchan muttered. 

“I’ll have you know that I didn’t even know the head of security until a month ago, let alone… who you are,” you snapped.

“Ah, so you don’t know about the insane killing spree I had a year ago, that’s a shame,” Sungchan’s tone was serious. You met his gaze, and watched the corner of his mouth twitch, holding back a chuckle.

“That sounds like something you’d do,” you countered, pulling out your keys.

“Hm, not without reason,” Sungchan admitted as you entered your building's courtyard. Glancing up, you froze. Your apartment door was open and lights were turned on, and from what you could see on the third floor, men were teeming around the area.

“What the fuck?” Sungchan beat you to it, and looked over to you. “Stay here.”

“Fuck off!” you shouted, taking a step to move away from the syndicate boss before he moved directly in front of you. “This is my home,” your body trembled now as you looked up at Sungchan’s piercing eyes.

Sungchan grit his teeth, glancing up at the apartment before looking at your own shaking figure. “If I say to run, you run, okay?”

Even if you didn’t mean it, you needed the tall wall of a man to move out of your way somehow, so you nodded in agreement. 

Your apartment was in a disarray. Yuta stood at the front door, explaining himself to a visibly angry Sungchan.

“... by the time I got here the door was already broken open. They didn’t take everything, but-.”

“I don’t understand why the fuck you wouldn’t think to call me immediately,” Sungchan snarled.

You were too stunned to even interject. Yuta saw your dazed expression, and looked down in shame. “Sungchan asked me to meet you both here to make sure your place was safe… I should have gotten here sooner.”

“God dammit,” Sungchan pushed past the fox man, storming into your apartment as if it was his own. You surveyed the damage from the door, noting the two other men that greeted the angered boss as they cleaned up the broken glass scattered all over your floor. The flowers were all gone too, this much you could easily tell. 

Glancing to the side, your eyes widened in horror.

You shoved Yuta out of the way, rushing to your bathroom and seeing the worst sight imaginable.

“No no no no no no no no no no,” you repeated, your throat catching as sobs began to rack your chest. The lid of the toilet was tossed aside, and inside the water tank which formerly held your entire life savings, now just held water and two empty ziploc bags.

Gone.

It was all gone.

Tears were streaming down your face and you ran your hands against your cheeks in an attempt to stifle the sadness and anger welling up inside. All of your money was gone. You kept swiping your hands at your cheeks, snot streaking along the blazer as you stared down at the empty water tank. A hand rested on your shoulder, and you shot a quick look at the mirror.

“All of my money,” you told Yuta, your voice coming out in a croak.

“We’ll find them and get all of your money back, angel,” he tried to comfort you. “It’ll be okay.” You were so petrified and angry that you glossed over the stupid nickname he seemed to permanently assign to you.

You turned back around, meeting Yuta’s gaze. “Where’s Sungchan?”

He pressed his lips into a line, his fox ears twitching as if fighting back an urge you had no desire to decipher. “He’s on the line with some syndicate members, trying to get street camera footage.”

“Tell him… tell him I’ll take the stupid job."

CHAPTER THREE: SEE YOU COWGIRL, SOMEDAY, SOMEWHERE!

Taglist! @nini0620 @maleegayuh @projectxdemons @deakyspuff

[sebsxphia]

no bc sitting next to jake during classes and just staring at him while he plays with the toothpick in his mouth. he'd definitely call you out on it.

literally!!!!!!!! smug bastard (affectionate). he’s throwing a lazy grin your way and asking if you like what you see with the way he’s using his mouth, or telling you if you keep staring at him your eyes are gonna pop out of your head.

i just wanna slap him and then kiss him stupid UGH

thank you so much for this dear anon!! 💌

[aza-writes]

Blood Red : Chapter 3

Thank you, Mr. Fisk

Hell's Kitchen : 2016

I wake up to darkness, something that's not exactly unfamiliar. I feel a small tug at something over my head and light floods my eyes. I groan at the intense lights on my face. It takes a second for my eyes to adjust until I can check my surroundings.

Okay, my hands are tied to a mental chair, I can easily slip out of the ropes. Someone is behind me to tear off the bag over my head. There is a metal desk in front of me with a glass of water on it. Not to mention a two-way mirror in front of me. This isn't a police office due to the lack of security cameras, the man behind has no badge on, also the rope instead of handcuffs is another dead giveaway. I've made enemies in my past but I rarely leave a witness or even someone to mourn them. I'm stumped by this until I remember the man from last night. He was wearing a suit with expensive fabric so he has some money. I try to remember more but my head is pounding.

The door unlocks revealing a dark-haired skinny man with thin, black glasses. Confidence radiates off of him. I tilt my chin up to combat this, I want him to feel small although I'm the one tied to a chair. He seems to pick up on this and lifts an eyebrow. I wanna smack him.

"Thank you, Johnson, you may leave." The guard behind me leaves the room as the skinny, smackable-faced man sits down. The door slams shut, and neither of us flinches. There's intense eye contact happening, like both of us are declining to speak first, trying to gain the upper hand. He smirks then opens up a folder while keeping eye contact. This son of a bitch, now I really want to smack him. Not punch, smack.

Looking down at the folder he looks back up at me. "Ms. Alice Solovyova, 16, was born in North Dakota on February 5, 2000." He looks back up at me, emotionless. "Nice to meet you" he extends his hand "James Wesley." I keep my stoic look. Then he makes a light, fake giggle with a tiny smirk growing. "Oops, I forgot. Let's be realistic here, you're just a kid and Alice isn't your real name is it." The confidence in his voice is so annoying. "Now, tell me your real name, and I'll untie your"

"You're lying."

"Why do you think that."

"We both know you're not that stupid. I killed a man twice as old as me with double the muscle mass I do, you would snap like a toothpick."

"So you did kill him?"

"Don't patronize me."

"Don't patronize me. Drop the façade. Who are you, where are you from, and how did you kill one of our best men."

"He was your best? That's sad for you, you must not be a very good organization." His face tightens, clearly annoyed. I can't help but smirk a bit. "Ooh, that struck a cord."

He aggressively slams the folder. "If you want to be stubborn that's fine. My employer won't too pleased."

"I don't careee," I say in a sing-song way. "You think I'm afraid of any of this?" I scoff "you clearly don't know how to do your job. I killed that man with ease, and he was your best. Your boss must be incredibly soft."

Wesley is pissed, ready to say something when the lock on the door clicks. I keep my eyes on this Ублюдок (bastard).

"That's enough Wesley, I'll take it from here." I look over to see the giant of a man. His voice was a sharp baritone. Wesley wasn't the biggest threat in the room anymore.

Wesley walks over to him and whispers something in his ear, which causes both of them to look back at me. The giant then nods at Wesley, allowing him to storm out of the room. Oh, I really pissed him off.

"Hello Miss Nikitina." I look at him confused. "You can drop the act, the man at the hotel was all too ready to get rid of that stuff in your room. Of course, we also ran some background checks, then a deep dive and a little investigating. The Russian government isn't as clean as they think they are, of course not after recent events exposing the Black Widow program."

"Sir, I-"

"Mr. Fisk."

"Mr. Fisk, I have no idea what you are talking about."

"Stop the lying." He looks down at the folder that he brought in. "Aleksandra Nikitina, born March 19, 2000 in Moscow, Russia to Igor Nikitin and Vera Nikitina. Former Black Widow." He looks me dead in the eyes "Does any of that ring a bell."

My voice turns sharp allowing my accent to show. "What do you want?"

"I believe we can help each other." He looks back down at the file, he knew everything about me so there was no point in hiding anything. I could even see that he had pictures of me in there from when I was first brought into the program and everything else. "You have very high marks here. You have the highest kill percentage." He smirks. "Here it says there is speculation that you are so ready to kill due to your bloodlust." He looks at me as I visibly stiffen. I can feel my pupils widen and my heart rate pick up. "Ahh, so it's true?"

"What?"

"The legend of the Bloody Widow."

"Excuse me?" I try not to show that the word blood has such an effect on me. Shit, even the thought of it makes my throat dry.

"A young girl who is so willing to kill that she gets excited. It's a sixth sense. And now she's here, after killing one of my men."

"He deserved it," I mumbled under my breath.

"Did you say something Ms. Nikitina?"

"I said he fucking deserved it." I look him in the eyes. "He was ready to hurt me, that man was a pervert and a pedophile. He's lucky I allowed him the mercy of death." Fisk was visibly pleased to hear my confession. "I regret nothing."

"I don't expect you to Ms. Nikitina. But I think we can help each other. You killed one of my men, you need a job and a place to sleep. I can offer you both of these things and more."

"More?"

Fisk smirks like he can offer me the world. "A list." He pulls out a different folder and slides it to me already opened. There are names, statistics, and pictures of hundreds of people. I look up at him, wanting more information before I agree.

"These are people who are, let's just say they're getting in my way. I would like them away from my operations," he stands up and holds out his hand "By any means necessary."

I smirk softly and finally let the rope drop from my arms, I slipped out of the knot as soon as Weasel entered the room. I stood up and shook Fisk's hand. "Thank you, sir."

He smiles and hands me a vile of blood to me, "please, Sir is too formal. Call me Mr. Fisk."

I tuck the vile into my pocket "Thank you, Mr. Fisk."

• • • • • •

Masterlists

[hotwings0203]

PART THREE LES GOOOOO

once again, all of these are headcannons, nothing more. And so without further ado, I present you to: Muslim Hawks

Aka Hani, aka Hamza, aka Haider, aka Kashif,(for keigo) Aka Kamran

This man is nothing if not a smooth talker

Knows absolutely when to give chai to uncles and have a chat about politics and religion with them, and when to shut it off to complement blushing aunties on their lenghas

Absolute sucker for any chicken dish. I’m talking korma, karhai, butter chicken, chicken tikka, the likes and all.

Definitely can cook from all the food he inhales, but you’d have to coax him into cooking for you. Instead of Dabi’s way of refusing to cook, which is usually “that’s a women’s job”, he uses his smooth words to tell you to “show me how to do it, I doubt i could make it as good as you”

Puts the gaslight in girlboss.

Even kids love him. When he’s at a dawat or an iftaar, children are swarming him and begging to be picked up. He surprisingly likes the sound of their squeals of joy as he spins them around, and it doesn’t hurt that cute girls clad in dupattas are witnessing how good he is with kids-they never leave his presence without giggling from his notorious winks

Loves wearing subtle gold in his clothes and earrings, which gets him in trouble occasionally

He’s known for wearing some of the drippiest clothes on eid and chaand raat, or on any dinner parties. People almost eagerly look for Dabi and his counterpart to see how they’re matching this time around-Hawks with his white and gold kurta and Dabi with his black and blue kameez

Somehow weasles his way out of every chore instructed at him, whether it’s helping in cleaning up an after-party, or shoveling food into little containers for the guests take home, or if it’s helping the masjid members carry chairs away. He’s using his silver tongue to distract his friends and act like he’s helping them, but in reality he’s got a toothpick between his pearly whites and an arm lazily draped over the poor schmuck’s shoulders.

He’s that one desi dude who can actually talk to girls and not make them uncomfortable. Sure, he might fluster a few of them (as he should, in his opinion), but he ultimately actually likes having good conversation with them and discussing modern day life without it being this whole weird thing…at least in front of them, that is. No one said he wasn’t going to go back and rate them all in front of Tomura and Dabi. But he truly enjoys talking to them otherwise!!😀

Drinks chai, non fucking stop. Or tea, like the Turkish kind. His teeth somehow manage to stay white through his addiction, the lucky bastard

Definitely a lightskin kind of brown dude. He’s got thousands of followers, looks like a model, has models following him…but he’s kind of like a Muslim influencer.

100% has done photoshoots endorsing Muslim brands, like shirts (or his favorite, jewelry)

Is known to go to those big galas that host different Muslim charities. Somehow donated a couple K each time he goes

His family (or just him) hosts some of the best kind of dinner parties. This boy is loaded, the doctor kind of rich, so his mansion is always brimming with guests and food

Has rumors that he’s not a virgin, but people like him too much to actually slander his name(except maybe the guys who are jealous of him)

Is the type of annoying fucker who will not.shut.up.about those videos on tiktok with people saying “can’t wait to have this one day🥺” and it’s a video of a Muslim couple waking each other up for fajr. He likes to talk a lot, but at the end of the day he’s still following half naked models

Does not ask your baba for his number. Your baba asks HIM for his number

He’s also known for being a great Sunday School teacher, or volunteer. He always has little candies to pass out for kids who get the answers right, and he’s super patient and gentle with kids who struggle with fiqh or recitation of the Quran

^^^this doesn’t mean he doesn’t go to his boys afterwards and groans about how stupid kids are. Remember, the ladies are watching him!!

Always smells nice, like sandalwood and cinnamon. Maybe old spice too

As one anon stated, he’s also been caught at shisha lounges and playing pool with with guys

When we he leads jummah, you can hear a pin drop silence because his qirat is so beautiful. Like he deadass has the voice of an angel

[contrispos]

Episode 8 - Reunion

[Star Wars: The Bad Batch]

WARNING: This thing is long AF

—

Oh no… oh shit… stop… Okay I’ve missed Mr Toothpick here we go

PLEASE LET HIM GO

LET HIM BE WITH HIS BROTHERS AGAIN GODDAMMIT

“It’s Clone Force 99” with a completely monotone voice… stop…

Can Lama Su stop calling them Experimental Unit 99??? THEY ARE SOLDIERS BITCH GIVE THEM SOME RESPECT

TERMINATE THEM?????????? FUCK YOU RAMPASS

Omega is so focused I love it🥺

Wrecker really knows his stuff… so much for being the dumb one(no offense)

Oh my god I know the stress she’s going through… gosh I hope Wrecker has a brain and doesn’t actually blow the whole thing up

YES UNCLE WRECKER

Mom is coming… Dad wants you back on the cruiser

ECHO DID A SUPERHERO LANDING

Awwwwwww I can’t with Wrecker and Omega🥺🥺🥺🥺

FUCK YOU SCRAPPERFUCKS

OH YEAH

THIS IS THE SOLDIER STUFF I CAME FOR

Can Omega stop being the cutest thing ever??

“That’s not comforting” Tech… I can’t explain how much I love you okay???

I got a bit of a heart attack when Wrecker hit his head AGAIN… but then I remembered the last episode…

TECH WHY DIDN’T YOU SHAVE THE OTHER SIDE??????? YOU HAD A CHANCE TO ACCEPT YOUR PUNK SIDE COME ON!!!!!!

Tech’s helmet is the cutest thing, he constantly looks like a little puppy🥺

I don’t like Hunter’s helmet tho… can’t explain it

Wrecker’s undying love for explosives, I can’t

No shit Tech, the lights LITERALLY JUST TURNED ON OF COURSE THE POWER IS BACK

TECH STOP BEING CUTE

I KNOW IT’S JUST HIS VOICE BUT IT’S CUTE AS HELL

THE WAY HE SAYS OMEGA

Echo… Just join Rex goddammit we know you want to

Is it just me or did Echo’s accent just fuck up a bit?? He almost sounded drunk… aRE yOu dRuNk?

YES IT’S THE TECH SCENE FROM THE TRAILER

HE’S TINKERING

TINKER ON BOY

COME ON TECH CAN YOU JUST GET PROPER ARMOR FOR GODS SAKE???? PROTECT YOUR THIGHS!!! PROTECT YOUR NECK!!!!! PROTECT YOUR BALLS I MEAN COME ON

Oh Tech my sweet, sweet darling Tech… JUST TALK ABOUT YOUR EMOTIONS!!!! TALK ABOUT THE STRESS YOU WERE UNDER DURING THE WAR!!!! TALK ABOUT YOUR FEAR OF LOSING YOUR BROTHERS!!!! I WANT TO BE HURT REAL GOOD!!! IF I DON’T NEED THERAPY AFTER AN EPISODE YOU HAVE FAILED!!!!

Okay please tell me Omega is standing on something, I really don’t want Tech to have worse posture. I know he’s 6’4” so like Omega should be WAY shorter than that compared to him

Ah shiet

Stop

No

Company, leave!!

Go

Away

LISTEN HERE YOU GIRAFFE!!!! I WILL HUNT YOU DOWN IF YOU DO ANYTHING TO MY PRECIOUS CHILD OKAY

Oh god

Stop this right now

DAMN HE IS LOOKING GOOD

sorry

I don’t like this

Crosshair knows them so well this isn’t good

WAS THAT??? NO IT CAN’T HAVE BEEN? WAS THAT HOPE IN HIS VOICE?? IS HE HAPPY TO FINALLY BE WITH THE BATCH????

Stop it I don’t like not liking clones

Oh Crosshair I have missed you and all but can you just like leave??

Oh my god the regs really are stupid huh?

Tech I love you you little smartass

Crosshair, stop it, get some help

I am honestly pissed at Tech, like constantly… WHY DOES HE GET FUCKING PERFECT THIGHS AND I DON’T

Oh hell nah

🎶 fuck this shit i’m out 🎶

i don’t like this

i’m scared

Tech you sneaky bastard

TECH STOP BEING SO EXCITED ABOUT MASS MURDER

I don’t like when Crosshair disrespects my children like that

I’m crying

this is too much

Omega, you get a golden star for being cute as fuck

Tech, you get a golden star for being cute as fuck

The rest of you, you get to sleep on the floor

OH HELL NO

DON’T YOU FUCKING DARE

“Your issue is with me, not her” Hunter, your dad is showing. Like literally it’s consuming you

HUNTER I TOLD YOU LAST WEEK THAT THIS WAS NOT THE KIND OF HUG I MEANT

HOLY FUCK MY FAMILY IS HOME I CANT LAUGH NOW

THAT SCREAM

AHHAHAHHAAHAHAHAHAHA

Wrecker this isn’t a video game, you know that right??

TECH HOLDING OMEGAS HAND??? KILL ME NOW

WAIT

crosshair held the side of his head

DOES THAT MEAN????

weeeee a slide

Oh Wrecker I love you

We should let them have more slides

I think it could be mutually beneficial

They have fun, I get some extra serotonin

Hey! You should have let him finish!

What are the engines capable of, Tech? *blinks unnaturally quickly*

HUNTER HOW FUCKING STRONG ARE YOU???

How did you do that? I wanna save Tech too 🥺👉🏻👈🏻

Crosshair clearly isn’t used to talking this much, his voice sounds kinda sore…

Tech could you maybe like, stop being emotionless? YOU ARE ABOUT TO DIE

holy fuck they’re gonna die

no

ohhhh no

no no no no no no no

OH YEAH MY SMART BABIES I LOVE YOU

OH MY GOD

they really are a group of dads

NOOOOO TURN THEM OFF

CROSSHAIR

NO

STOP

TURN THE ENGINES OFF MY BABY IS DYING

Omegas little welps🥺🥺🥺

CROSSHAIR MY CHILD

HE LOOKED SO SCARED

okay, who did that?

CAD FUCKING BANE????????

ARE YOU KIDDING ME????

THIS JUST BECAME A WHOLE ASS WESTERN

THE MUSIC AHHHHHH

HOLY FUCK I NEVER THOUGHT ID BE EXCITED ABOUT CAD BANE YET HERE WE ARE

no

stop

nuh uh

nope

i’m out

HOLY MOTHER OF GOD

NO

HUNTER

STOP

OMEGA

Oh no

Crosshair is properly fucked

oh shit

IT CANT STOP THERE

okay not gonna lie that was a gorgeous scene

is that what it looks like in their helmets??? really? I thought is was just like, a window, but this makes more sense

HOLY FUCK

created by DAVE FILONI yeah bitch I am gunning for you. I will find you, and i will kill you.

BITCH

[out-of-control]

KIRA

words: 1528

warnings: animal neglect

summary: Jim rescues a kitten.

Jim pulls up to his spot in front of the building and steps out of the car, loitering while he finishes his cigarette. He stubs it out on the ground, and just as he goes to put his front door keys in the lock, some rustling around the corner makes him freeze. “The fuck?” he mumbles, pausing to listen. More rustling. He follows the noise to the gap along the side of the building, crouching down to peek between the garbage cans, when he sees a small shadow behind them and hears a tiny, unmistakable, Meow. 

Oh Christ, Jim thinks, as a dirty, malnourished little kitten moves closer to him, just barely into the light, and meows at him. It looks like a raggedy pom-pom perched on four toothpicks. Before his brain even processes, he reaches out, and snatches it up by the scruff before it has a chance to run. He cups it in his hand, looking it right in the eyes. It weakly hisses at him, before seeming to accept this fate and meowing again, staring back at him while it shivers in his hands. Suddenly, Jim feels a kinship.

He can’t. Can he? Well, he can’t not. Especially now that it’s getting colder out. 

Gently, he adjusts his hands to hold it up from underneath, and looks down again to see if there are any others. Nothing. Jim holds the kitten up to look it in the eyes again. “Are you fucking alone out here?” he asks it, incredulously, and he’s met with another meow. He stares at it for another minute. 

He might be about to do something stupid.

Jim, more delicately than he’s ever handled anything, hides the kitten in the front flap of his jacket, muffling another meow against his chest, and he brings it inside.

He unlocks the apartment door, walks through backwards, and just starts talking before he even gets through the threshold. “Now I know I said I was just going out to buy more picks and I’m trying not to be that boyfriend, but,” Jim shoulders the door closed and looks over at Jax lying on the couch for a moment, with one hand tucked into his jacket. Then, ever so carefully, he pulls the kitten out, cradling it in both hands. “I’m super being that boyfriend right now.”

“Fuck is that thing,” Jax says immediately, getting up on his elbows and staring. 

The kitten hisses, as if to say, Fuck do you think, asshole. 

"Hey," Jim chides the cat, turning it back to look at him. "Be nice to him, he’s my boyfriend," he says, pouting.

Jax looks between Jim, the cat, and Jim again, before putting his face in his hands. “Where did you even get that.”

“Hiding out behind the garbage cans,” Jim says, brows knitting together. “I couldn’t just leave it there. It’s getting fucking freezing out.”

“You softhearted bastard,” Jax says dismally, removing his hands and glaring at Jim. “I can’t believe this. Now we have to take it to the vet and get fucking kitty litter or baby formula or whatever.” He stands, steps closer and peers at the kitten, who hisses at him again. “Jim,” he says, looking up and raising his eyebrows. “You better pray you don’t get fleas.”

“Wouldn’t be the first time,” Jim mumbles, bringing the kitten against himself, cradling it like a baby. It gladly sucks up Jim’s body heat. He looks back up at Jax. “Babyyy, can we keep it?” he pleads.

“Landlord’s gonna fuck us if he finds out,” Jax says darkly, but he’s already grabbing his keys and jacket. “It’s not sleeping in the bed.”

“You fucking hate the landlord,” Jim points out, grinning a little. The kitten tries to bite his jacket’s zipper. 

“I do,” Jax says, resigned. “I really do.” 

Jim opens the door for Jax. "We can train it to hunt cockroaches, then he'll have to like it." 

–

By the time they reach the veterinary office’s waiting room, the cat already has a name. 

“Kira,” Jax tells the lady at the counter, while Jim hovers over his shoulder, stroking one thumb over the kitten’s tiny head. Thankfully, the waiting room is pretty sparse, and it isn’t long before Jim has reluctantly surrendered newly christened Kira to the vet’s capable, nitrile-gloved hands. 

“She’s a little over three weeks old–” The vet starts, after looking the kitten over and cleaning her off a little, white fur now much more apparent contrasted against her black splotches. The vet holds her still and gives her an injection of some fluids. “--Dehydrated and starving, fleas… she’s probably been alone since last night. I’ll be honest, there’s a pretty big chance she won’t make it.”

“Fuck that,” Jax and Jim blurt out at the same time, and the vet gives them a look.

“Just try not to get too attached this early,” she says slowly, carefully. “And don’t blame yourself if you lose her.” 

A little late for that. “Well, I’m not just gonna give up, so,” Jim says determinedly, attentively watching the vet switch to bottle feeding her some formula. 

“You’ll have to spray her for the fleas as soon as possible, that’s your biggest concern,” she says, warily looking up at Jim and putting the bottle down. Jax snorts, elbows him. “You’ll have to feed her a little bit to begin with and then gradually increase to avoid refeeding syndrome. Socialize with her a lot– play with her, cuddle her, get her used to people. Keep a close eye, even through the night. Make sure she’s warm, hydrated, fed, all that.”

“I don’t sleep much to begin with,” Jim shrugs. “Not a problem for me. I can handle it.” 

The vet looks at him for a moment, and Kira meows. The vet looks back down at the tiny little creature on the metal table. Then, she reaches out, and carefully pets her. The vet continues to give them an extensive care rundown, Jim paying studious attention to every word.

–

“I sent Anna a pic and she’s just replied with a bunch of exclamation points,” Jax says, walking back over to the couch, looking at his phone. “Dude, is that my shoelace?”

Jim looks up, a little guiltily, from where he has indeed been dangling one of Jax’s shoelaces over the kitten in an attempt to trigger her predatory instincts. “We don’t have cat toys.” 

Jax sighs. “We’ll get some.” They got formula and flea spray from the vet, at least, but the pet store closed before they could make a proper supply run. But she's fed, de-flead, and has a cozy little box set up next to the couch to sleep in. Jax pockets his phone and simply lies down on the floor, observing both Jim and Kira. “Where the fuck are we gonna put a litter box, man?”

“The bathroom?” Jim suggests.

“Yeah. True,” Jax says, resting his head against the floor. Kira seems to notice him for the first time, and takes little wobbly kitten-steps over to his head. Jim watches Jax’s body stiffen a little as he tries not to spook her. After a few seconds of deliberation, Kira pounces, and starts biting Jax’s hair. His eyes meet Jim’s, and he says, “This cat is so fucking weird,” as his hair is chewed upon. 

Jim snorts, and lies down on his stomach. He reaches out towards Kira and taps his fingers on the floor as a distraction. “At least she’s already livelier,” he says, as her head snaps towards Jim’s hand and leaps for it instead, chewing on one of his fingers.

“You’re gonna raise a maneater,” Jax says, and yawns. “You wanna take first watch for not-letting-the-cat-die?”

“Yeah, sure. Go get your beauty sleep, sunshine.” Jim grins a little, and scoops Kira up, who continues to lightly maul his fingers.

“Fuck you,” Jax says politely, standing up and flipping Jim off. His insult is immediately nullified by how he leans into peck Jim on the lips, careful not to jostle the kitten. “I’ll relieve you in a few hours, shithead.”

“Goodnight, baby,” Jim says, and blows him an extra kiss when he pulls away.

“You’re so embarrassing,” Jax calls, and then he leaves Jim with the cat. 

–

It’s about four hours later when the bedroom door creaks open again, casting a mellow shaft of light into the adjoining room. Jax carefully pads through, blanket wrapped around his shoulders and gaze locked on the floor, incredibly paranoid about stepping on the cat by accident. He needn’t have worried, though, because as he ventures further into the room, he can see that the cat is safely out of the way. It’s curled up on Jim’s chest, like a cherry on top of an ice cream sundae, if cherries were fuzzy and black-and-white, and if sundaes were pale and gangly and snored, just a little. 

Jax finds he doesn’t quite have the heart to wake either of them. Instead, he quietly pulls up a chair across from the couch and sits down. Bundled up in his blanket, he carefully watches over the two creatures who have, improbably, both ended up on his couch tonight.

—

[nakedmossy]

Alone, Together - Chapter 6 [JJ x Reader]

JJ x Reader

Description: JJ is not the only pogue on the cut who deals with abuse at home. Reader is an only child who lives with her mom and her abusive stepdad, has a strong relationship with JJ because they share the same home life. Reader experiences physical abuse for the first time, which changes her relationship with JJ irrevocably.

Chapter Summary: You go back to your house to confront your step dad, things don’t go as planned, JJ wakes up in the hospital to you gone and dispatches the pogues to find you.

Disclaimers: Mentions of physical abuse, swearing, alcohol.

Notes: This is it y’all. The final chapter. Hope you like it. See you in the next fix. Peace and love.

_________________________________________________________

JJ stood silently with his hands on his head, knowing that you weren’t in the hospital. He should have known not to fall asleep, after the events of the day, he knew you were a loose canon after he watched you almost flat out attack your stepdad in the hallway, he knew you weren’t thinking straight. His breathing was rapid and he felt dizzy, thinking about where you would have gone, and why Pope was gone.

“Hey man. HEY” John B snapped his fingers in front of JJ’s face, looking at him directly. “We’re gonna find her alright?” JJ and John B stared at each other intensely for a few seconds before JJ slowly shook his head and walked backwards towards the exit, mumbling.

“I think I know where she is” He said before turning and walking briskly out the door.

JJ heard the crew shouting his name as the door slammed behind him. John B followed him out, his phone still pressed to his ear.

“Wait up, where are you going?” He yelled at JJ’s back.

“To her house” He said without looking back. “She went to find him”

John B grabbed JJ’s arm and reefed on it, dragging JJ to a full stop.

“How do you know that?” John B stood in front of him now, his full attention on JJ.

“Because,” JJ looked at him hard before pushing him back to give him space to walk around him. “That’s where I would have gone.”

____________________________________________

It took you nearly 40 minutes to walk from the hospital across to the other side of the Cut and around the docks along the trail that led to your house. You had a ringing in your ears that hadn’t stopped since you heard Shoupe say the words “car accident”, and the walk had made your head pulse so hard you felt like it would pop off at any moment. Your ribs ached so badly that you had started limping from the pain, you had walked the last kilometre with your hand pressed so firmly against your ribs just in hopes of numbing them that you couldn’t feel the heel of your palm anymore. You had had 40 minutes of near perfect silence to think about what you would say to your step dad, how you would approach him, what you would use to hurt him. First you had thought about going to the shed and getting whatever sharp tool or shovel you could find. Then you thought that would look too premeditated and messy. You needed to find a way for there to be no shadow of a doubt that it was self defence. Maybe a knife...even a fire poker would do. 

You were alone for maybe 5 minutes in front of your house, staring blindly at the door you had ran out and tripped down the steps of two days earlier, when you heard your name faintly behind you.

You turned, startled, and narrowed your eyes to see better in the dark.

“Pope?” You said questioning, maybe you were starting to hear things? You couldn’t see anyone. Then, just as you thought you were losing it, you saw movement coming closer.

“Bathroom hey Y/N. Right. I’ve been calling at you to stop for 20 minutes.” He put his hands on his knees and doubled over in front of you, catching his breath. 

You took a step towards him and put your hand that wasn’t covering your ribs under his elbow, helping him straighten and pulling him away from your house back towards the road.

“What are you doing here?” You hissed at him, making sure to look over your shoulder and confirm you were out of earshot.

Pope looked at you and over your head to your house and back to you. His facial expression was the one he always gave you when he felt annoyed that he had to dumb something down to explain it to you in simplest terms.

“Making sure you don’t do anything stupid, obviously.”

You took as deep a breath as you could muster without putting pressure on your ribs and closed your eyes, trying to keep your shit together.

“Pope.” You opened your eyes and put your hand on his chest. “I appreciate it, but please go home. Please.”

Pope stood firm, setting his jaw and crossing his arms. Your face started to get hot.

“Pope GO.” You hissed, motioning towards the road. “This isn’t your business”

“Like hell it isn’t. You’re my best friend, and JJ is my best friend, and I know that sometimes you guys gotta go through some shit but you don't gotta go through it alone -” Popes voice was getting louder and louder, faster and faster. “-and I know if you do something stupid you will get hurt, and then JJ will get hurt, and then John B will get involved and then I’ll have to get involved and I really, just really really don't want you to get hurt more than you already are because look at you right now, whatever that bastard did in the past aside, you can’t take this guy on, I saw him he is-”

You couldn’t listen to his high pitched rambling anymore so you put your hand out and covered his mouth, pushing him back further away from the house until you were almost on the road, half illuminated by a street light.

“Pope, shut the fuck up” You hissed, taking your hand away. He was breathing heavily but closed his mouth, watching you. “I get it.” You said, crossing your own arms. “But this guy is ... just... I mean come on Pope” You put your hands out and motioned towards the house. “He almost killed her!” A tear came to your eye as you thought about your mom laying in the hospital bed.

“I know that. I know, but Y/N, seriously?” He looked at you expectantly. “He almost killed YOU!”

You shook your head and crossed your arms again, looking over your shoulder at your house.

“He can’t get away with it anymore. He’s...I can’t let him.” You shrugged and turned to start walking towards your house, Pope following you.

“Don’t. Y/N stop, you can’t go in there. What are you gonna do?” He whispered, his feet thumping right behind yours. You didn’t answer, so he pressed on. “You gonna kill him? Hit him with a pan? This is a STUPID idea, terrible idea.”

You spun and halted so fast he bumped into you and fell backwards a little bit.

“Pope, for Christ sake, if you want to be helpful right now, go get the fucking cops. Because lord knows I’m going to need them in a few minutes.”

Popes eyes went wide and he put his hands on either side of your shoulders, squeezing them. 

“Are you crazy?” He asked, his voice cracking.

“Yes” You said calmly, then you heard movement behind you and the door swing open loudly. 

Pope’s hands dropped as you turned to face the door, where your step dad stood illuminated under the single porch light, wearing nothing but shorts and a vest with the sleeves ripped off. You felt yourself freeze in place, adrenaline immediately pumping through you from head to toe.

He smiled crookedly, a tooth pick poking out of his mouth, before slumping against the railing and crossing his arms.

“Wondered when you were coming home” He said before taking the tooth pick out briefly and spitting on the ground near your feet. You heard Pope whisper something behind you but you barely heard it. You turned quickly and looked directly into his eyes, and told him to leave. He didn’t move. “See you brought your friend.” Your step dad spit.

You turned back to look at him and felt your chest burning, your throat tightening. He put his tooth pick back in his mouth and started to descend the steps slowly, before stopping at the bottom and reaching into his back pocket. Everything slowed down to a near stop as you watched his hand come out from around his back, and you prepared for the worst.

Then, with relief, you watching him spit out the toothpick on the ground and lift a cigarette to his mouth, lighting it. Pope audibly let out a breath behind you.

“Get out of here, boy.” Your step dad said then, dragging on the cigarette and pulling it out of his mouth.

“No” Pope said firmly, standing closer to you. 

Then, too fast for you to react, your stepdad lunged forward and grabbed your forearm, holding onto it tightly. You tried to pull it out of his grip and twisted it painfully as you heard Pope shouting for him to let you go.

“I said” He brought the cigarette in front of your face and lowered it onto the skin of your arm. You screamed out loudly and felt your legs wobble as he pressed the cigarette deeper, your flesh burning. “Leave, boy.” 

You looked up at Pope with tears in your eyes and nodded at him, screaming out again when he dropped the cigarette to the ground and started pulling you up the steps beside him towards the door. 

“I’ll CALL THE COPS YOU PIG” Pope shouted from the front steps, not daring to come closer in fear of what your stepdad would do. “Y/N!”

Pope was still shouting from the front steps when your step dad tore you through the doorway and towards the kitchen, you felt your vision tunnelling.

“Stop, please, stop” You begged as you continued to try and twist your arm, using your other hand to claw at his. “Let me go!”

His grip didn’t lessen as you entered the kitchen. He shoved you into a chair and pointed in your face for you to stay seated. He kept facing you, backing up slowly, until he reached the counter and grabbed the duck tape from the drawer. You felt the clock ticking in your ears and your adrenaline spike, you stood from the chair and almost made it to the doorway when you felt his arm around your waste, pulling you back painfully. You screamed out as he squeezed your ribs, forcing you back into the kitchen chair.

Your heart was pounding in your ears and your vision was erratic. You looked around breathlessly and saw the dirty counter, the sink covered in stains, the stacks of bottles on the ground, before they settled on the block of knives. You barely felt it when he fastened your arms to the chair with the tape. 

Your eyes stayed fastened on the knives. You just had to get there, 2 feet? Tops? You just needed to reach in, grab one, and you would be free. The plan that was so solid in your mind was slapped clean out of it when you felt your step dads fist connect with your cheek.

____________________________________________

JJ white knuckled the handle of the car door as John B sped down the road, absolutely breaking every speed limit and running every stop sign between the hospital and your house. They were only 2 blocks away when they saw the silhouette of Pope running full speed down the road towards them. When he registered it was the Twinkie he started waving his hands and flailing desperately. JJ’s stomach dropped and he felt his body tense, knowing something was wrong. John B hit the breaks and skidded to a halt as JJ flung his door open and jumped out, running towards Pope.

“What’s going on, where is Y/N?” He said hurriedly as Pope caught his breath and started to sputter out breathless words between gasps.

“House ... cigarette ....dragged her..... house” He repeated house several times as he waved his arm back in the direction he had come from as JJ tore off at full speed towards it. He was running so fast that his knees knocked together and his hat flew off his head behind him. He could hear John B yelling at him, but JJ was almost at your house by the time John B had gotten Pope in the car and driven up behind JJ. The porch light was on and the front door was open, JJ slowed to a fast walk as he got closer, trying to listen for your voice or your step dads. He stopped at the bottom of the stairs and heard the unmistakable sounds of flesh hitting flesh, then the sound of chair legs scraping across the floor. He slowly reached into his back pocket as he ascended the stairs into the house.

____________________________________________

Your cheek throbbed and your eye stayed shut, you dipped your chin and cowered, trying to deflect the next blow without hands. It never came.

“Back up” You heard a foreign yet familiar voice permeate the thrashing sounds of your heartbeat and blood pumping in your head. “I SAID BACK UP”

You winced and slowly lifted your head in the direction of the voice. There, standing in the doorway to the kitchen with a gun pointed directly at your step dads chest, was JJ. You swallowed and blinked the tears out of your eyes, an overwhelming panic forming inside you. Why did JJ have a gun and what if he shot your step dad? No. He would kill him. He would go to jail. He couldn’t do that.

“JJ” You said in a broken voice. JJ’s eyes flitted to you briefly then focussed on your Step Dad again. 

“Easy, kid. Just relax.” You heard your step dad say quietly, trying to speak calmly. Even with a gun pointed at his chest he found a way to sound condescending. 

“Back up” JJ repeated, his voice deep and stern.

Your step dad raised his hands, showing them to JJ, and backed up slowly until he was against the counter. Then, in a bust of commotion and noise, your step dad bolted for the side door and took off into the back yard towards the marsh. You watched him until he was out of sight and then looked over to JJ who slumped back and took a deep breath. You heard sirens in the distance as JJ put the gun down and rushed over to you, kneeling down to look at you, his hands working on the tape across your wrists.

“Are you okay?” He said quickly, his hands ripping the tape off swiftly, making you close your mouth and bite your tongue to keep from shouting. You nodded, trying to push out a smile. “Okay, come on. Up we come” JJ said softly as he helped you up, his face dropping when he noticed the cigarette burn on your arm. He looked like he was going to throw up. He closed his eyes and flexed his jaw then opened them and started walking with you down the hall towards the front door. When you reached it you could see the cop cars on the street, two of the officers pinning your step dad to the ground and handcuffing him.

“It’s over” JJ said quietly, maybe to you and maybe to himself as he walked you down the steps to the Twinkie, which was parked close to the house. John B rushed over and grabbed you, pulling you into a hug as soon as he reached you, giving JJ cover and some time to stash his gun under the seat before a cop walked over. You saw Pope over John B’s shoulder and winked at him, his face nervous but relieved.

When John B let you go, his eyes scanned over your face before he turned to JJ and nodded, turning his back to give you some privacy.

JJ’s hands came up to your face and he held it, gently, as he looked emotionally and deeply at you. His eyes had tears in them when he pressed a kiss to your forehead, then he pulled you into his chest and smothered you as tightly as he could without hurting you.

“Don’t ever do that again” He said quietly, so only you could hear.

“You would have done the same thing.” You retorted, holding him as tightly as you could.

“I know.” He replied as you turned your head to watch Shoupe escorting your stepdad into the back of the cop car.

 Shoupe nodded his head at you once before climbing into the drivers seat and motioning with his finger for you to come closer. You patted JJ on the back and he let you go, but followed you closely to the window of Shoupe’s squad car.

“Shoupe” You said as you approached his window.

“Come down to the station when you can, we need to have a chat. Get that looked at first.” He pointed at the bruises on your face “And don't worry about this.” He nodded to the backseat where your stepdad sat. “We will take care of it.”

You nodded and smiled tersely at him before glancing once into the back seat where your eyes met your step dads. You couldn’t do anything but stare at him, so you turned and focused your attention on JJ as Shoupe pulled the car away.

“Thank you” You said quietly, noticing that behind him on the horizon the sun was starting to rise. JJ pursed his lips and shook his head before grabbing you by your belt loops and pulling you close to him. You didn’t speak for a few moments, just looked at each other and breathed calmly.

“I uh...I think we need to get high.” You said, smiling as painlessly as you could.

JJ slowly nodded and then began to fervently nod until his hair was bouncing.

“Yeah that’s an understatement.” He said finally, resting his arm around your shoulder and walking with you back to the Twinkie. When you were close, John B turned around and held up his cell phone, shaking it. 

“It was Sarah” He said brightly. “Your moms awake.” He smiled at you lightly, and you felt a breath leave your chest. “Should we go?” He said, motioning at the van.

You nodded slowly, then looked up at JJ. “But first...” then you reached into your pocket and pulled out the joint that was slightly crinkled from the events of the last few days. “I think we could all use a little quality time with Mary Jane...just to...you know, take a load off.”

Pope put his hand over his face as John B looked at JJ and burst out laughing.

All would be well...hopefully. Well...as well as the Cut would ever be. 

But you knew you had JJ, and no matter what, you knew that with him you would never be alone. Or, you would be... alone, together.

————————————

Tag list: @ilikealotofpeople-younotsomuch​, @alexa-playafricabytoto​, @timotaychalabae​, @racerparker​, @jj-maybank-stan​, @anahgiedd, @kam-ackie, @jjsthumbring​, @ponyboys-sunsets​

[tellywoodtrash]

immj2 08.04.21 lb

why the fuck is vansh glaring at riddhima for dadi's dumb accusations???? does he not remember that siya's whole makeover came as a reaction after riddhima's "death" which means, she wasn't in the fucking house when it happened????? i swear to god, every raisinghania has horseshit for brains.

angre's back with a new injury and ishani's reacting like anyone would if their husband came back from work bleeding every single day. she's spitting nothing but facts and is so fucking right to hate vansh.

yessssssssssss ishani is here to take vansh ki class, and i fucking love it. vansh isn't even smirking this time around, coz ishani is really fucking angry and will literally snap his neck like a toothpick if he tries.

phewwwwwwwwww, ishani really going off today and I AM HERE FOR IT.

ofc he's doing that bullshit macho thing of punching shit in his anger and putting the blame on riddhima for all of it. sis idk why you're still with this man. you've obviously grown a brain now, why don't you see him for the abusive loser that he is????/

lmaooooooooooooooooo he's like "WHY WON'T YOU JUST TELL ME?!?!?!? don't you trust me riddhima????" NO BRO. NO. THE SIMPLE STRAIGHT ANSWER IS FUCKING NO. YOU'RE THE LEAST TRUSTWORTHY PERSON IN THIS SHOW. I'D TRUST A RATTLESNAKE BEFORE I'D TRUST YOUR MANIPULATIVE PSYCHO ASS.

suchhhhhh bad dubbing in this scene for rrahul.

anyway riddhima's like "nahi bataana mujhe", lol. i love it.

he stormed off in anger and she's lamenting not being able to tell him the secret until the black box is handed over to vyom. ugh. so lame.

cut to next morning, he woke up and riddhima's nowhere to be seen.

he goes and bangs on ishani's door and he's like "ishani plsssss darwaza kholo.......... main vansh." LOL OK???? BECAUSE WHO ELSE WOULD WE MISTAKE YOU FOR???

angre ready to leap outta bed but lmaoooooooo the look ishani gave him scared him back into lying down. anyway the moment she turns around he jumps up anyway.

ishani's like can you pls leave my husband alone?!?!?!?!?!?! which is well within her rights, coz vansh bhai really be doing bhangra tapdance all over the boundaries one should have as an employer, let alone brother-in-law.

lol vansh's first comment to angre is "ishani is really angry at me for you. i like that she loves you a lot." i'm sure this means more to angre than ishani's confession of love even.

anyway, he got the deets of that random jhopda from angre and is gonna go chaapa maarofy there. angre's like i'll come with, and ishani tears vansh a new one about respecting angre as the damaad of the house. phewwwwwwwww, i love it so much.

idhar bechare not-rrahul se covid ke time mein bhi kaam karwaaya jaa raha hai. baksh do bechaare ko yaar. rrahul se toh nahi karwaaya tha jab usko hua tha, aur woh lead hai. isko 2 hafte ke liye chutti nahi de sakte? kapde bhi nahi pehnne dete.

anyway riddhima is pissed at vyom for acting overfamiliar with his "partner"/"baby doll" nonsense, and is like jaane kaunse manhoos ghadi mein iske saath deal kar liya maine............ anyway, she gotta do black box shit fastttttt.

anyway, he's given her some apt or safehouse or something.

lollipop ladki and her incredibly toned legs (god, i'd kill for them!!!) are following vansh around, saying i gotta talk to youuuu. vansh is like behen, mere se meri ek bandi nahi sambhal rahi, i don't have time or energy for any sidechicks, pls baksh de. jaake aryan ko tang kar tu.

she's bc poori baat toh sun le. goes to show him the tattoo, but he gets a call and leaves. you know what, she shouldn't tell him it's the code to opening that stupid box. let him come beg. and then she can extort 2500 crore outta him.

idhar chained-up kabir is trying to attack riddhima who's like

can't say i'm not masssssssively enjoying this. i love kabir, i do, but he deserves this for all the haraamipannaa that he did to her and ruined her fucking life.

ohhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh she shot at KABIR while in the red leather catsuit, not vansh. a pity. shoulda shot both when she had the fucking chance, and lived a free life.

ugh she's doing all this coz he tried to kill vansh? not just for her own shits and giggles? how fucking disappointing.

i love helly's unbothered acting tho. too good.

riddhima's promising to kill him badeeee itmenaaan se.

she's like v 1.0 of me was a basic bitch who just wanted to marry you and live happily ever after. but you planned differently, so............... thanks for teaching me all the ropes of being an absolute bastard.

kabir warning that yeh jo abhi mera haal hai, vansh gonna do it to you, or worse. pftttttttttttt. tell us something we don't already know, loser.

aaaand now he's calling her a fool. she's not the one in chains rn, my man. matlab hadh hai, rassi jal gayi par bal nahi gaya.

anyway blah blah vansh will find out about your deal, he'll kill us both, blah blah blah. whatevs.

riddhima tells guard fellow ki vansh found out about the place and kabir needs to move. guard veryyyyy wisely removes all the chains on kabir, who then gives dhoka by shoving them out the room and slamming the door shut. wonderful.

aryan/ishani bitching about vansh bhai and plotting to bring him downnnnn so that his tyranny will finally end. good. VERY GOOD. get yours, bitchy kanji aankhon waale sibs. main tumhare saath hoon.

vansh reached the jhopdaaaaaaaaaaa. lord i hope riddhima has become nau do gyaraah with kabir by now.

god all these low angle shots of rrahul...................... UNF, man; fucking UNF. 🥵🥵🥵

phew thank god, place is fucken empty.

has something scrawled on the wall tho.

an address......... IN BLOOD. but........... how the fuck would kabir know where riddhima's moving him to and have the time to write it out on the wall???

bwahahahahahahahahahaha and they're bringing kabir to the exact same set, saaaaaame room. man i know budget kam hua hoga OTT ki wajaah se, but there's a million rooms on this set, koi bhi doosra choose kar lete.

anyway, this is the safehouse vyom gave riddhima. good on her for asking for and getting the resources she needs to carry out her nefariousness.

ohhhhhhhhhh, address kabirrrrr ne nahi, RIDDHIMA ne likha tha, galat waala.

loving how she's playing alllllllll these suckers. i know she's not gonna stay winning for long, so imma just enjoy it for the time. *sigh*

precap: vansh's dumb ass finally figured out address fake tha, while riddhima finally gets her hands on the black box. and now he's following her around as she goes to make the drop. BORING!

[peakyswritings]

Dancing with the Devil pt.4

Luca Changretta x Italian!reader

A/N: I’m sorry it took this long to write this chapter, but I was kinda stuck. I hope you like it!⭐️ Also, I took some quotes of the family meeting from the show⭐️

Warnings: swearing, drinking, mentions of death and murder

Summary: when Luca Changretta comes to Birmingham for the vendetta, he perfectly knows what he wants. “No one will survive”, that’s what he always says. Y/n, a close family friend of the Shelbys, makes a deal with Luca and tricks him into thinking that she’s on his side. They’re sworn enemies, on opposite sides, in a position where you can choose to kill, or to be killed. They both plan on killing each other. Keep your friends close, but your enemies closer, they say. But Luca and Y/n have no idea of how close they’re going to get.

The gif is not mine, credits to the owner

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3

The next morning, you and the Shelbys were all gathered around the table in Michael’s hospital room for a family meeting, John had moved from his room to attend to it. The family had previously agreed to put an end to the war between them, at least until the vendetta was over. Tommy stood up and cleared his throat, glancing around the room.

“Changretta took us by surprise on Christmas morning” he started “Michael and John were shot because we killed someone. Vicente Changretta. His son Luca has come to take revenge. Men from New York and Sicily here in Birmingham, these men won’t leave our city until our whole family is dead. That’s how it works, an eye for an eye. It’s called vendetta.” he explained the situation again for John and Michael, who couldn’t attend the last family meeting due to their critical conditions.

“With John and Michael here, there are two empty seats that must be taken. Finn” he pointed at the youngest brother, who was standing next to Isaiah “sit at the table.”

The boy had to hold back a smile as he sat between Arthur and John. He had waited for that moment for a long time. Arthur suddenly pulled him close by the neck with a proud smile on his face.

“Little bastard” he said with his husky voice “doing men’s work”

“You’re a man now, Finn-boy” John chuckled and ruffled his hair.

“Y/N made a deal with Luca Changretta”

At Tommy’s statement, the room fell silent. Everybody looked at you, trying to understand what that was all about.

“She’ll pass him information. Well, the information we want him to know. She’ll make him believe that she’s on his side, she’ll be working from the inside and passing us informations”

Polly’s head quickly turned to you, her eyes full of worry.

“That’s suicide. I vote against it.”

You had known Polly for all of your life, she loved you as if you were her own daughter, she would never put you in such a dangerous situation.

“I met him yesterday” you explained, talking for the first time “we already have a deal. I’ll see him again tomorrow, he’ll expect me to pass him some information”

All of a sudden, everyone started talking at once, no one liked the idea of you getting in trouble. You were like family to them, you were not disposable. It took you a while to convince Tommy as well, but you both knew that you had to do everything you could to survive.

“The decision has been made” he raised his voice to be heard “She’ll have all the protection she needs.”

Ada shook her head.

“You can only protect her as long as she stays in our territory. When she goes to the place the Italians are staying in, there’s nothing you can do to assure her safety. And sure as hell they won’t let her in with a gun” she argued, crossing her arms over her chest.

“He had the chance to kill me yesterday, but he didn’t. He needs me for information, I’ll make sure he needs me for a long time”

For a while, nobody talked anymore. You all knew that you were stuck in a serious situation. That war didn’t involve business or money, it was personal and for that reason, it was ten times more dangerous.

“The bullet’s been written” Arthur broke the silence, pulling a bullet out of his pocket “it says Luca. When the time comes, and it will come...me as the oldest brother, will put this bullet into his fucking head”

******

You took a deep breath before knocking on the big wooden door. You were walking right into the lion’s den, without protection or the actual certainty of being safe. One of Luca’s men opened the door with a gun hidden behind his back.

“Who are you?” he asked with a strong Italian accent.

“Y/n Y/l/n. I’m here to see mr Changretta” you said, putting up a confident facade. He seemed to recognise your name, because he nodded and put away his gun.

“I’m sorry, Miss, but you have to take off your coat and I have to verify that you’re not armed”

You nodded, handing him your coat. You tried to ignore the nasty feeling you got while he put his hands on you to check you out. Once he finished, he moved away from the doorstep, letting you in. He led you to a hallway and he knocked on the third door.

“Come in” you heard a familiar husky voice say from the inside. The man in front of you entered the room.

“Y/n Y/l/n è qui per vedervi, signor Changretta”

(Y/n Y/l/n is here to see you, mr Changretta)

“Falla entrare”

(Let her in)

The man got out of the room and held the door open for you, then he closed it behind your back. Luca was sat at his desk, rolling a toothpick in his mouth, a bunch of papers was messily scattered on it. He raised his head and he leaned back on his chair, putting away the toothpick.

“Y/n” he grinned “please, take a seat” he gestured towards one of the chairs in front of his desk. You sat down, crossing your legs, trying your best to maintain your mask of confidence.

“Now, do you have something to report?” he asked, referring to the plans of the Shelbys.

“Yes, I think you should hire some female employees to check out your female guests, mr Changretta. It’s not pleasant to have some random man’s hands on you” you stated, crossing your arms over your chest. He stayed silent for a moment, looking at you with a mixture of astonishment and amusement. He knew that you weren’t exactly an easy person to deal with, but he didn’t expect you to have the nerve of talking to him like that and criticise the way he handled things. Much to his surprise, the thing didn’t bother him not even in the slightest. He shook his head, holding back a smile.

“You’re a feisty one, aren’t you?” he pointed at you.

You have no idea, you thought, but you stayed quiet.

“Anyway, I already told you that you can call me Luca. If we have to work together, we need to be close” he affirmed, without losing the spark of amusement in his eyes.

“Of course, Luca” you said, emphasising his name “we had a family meeting yesterday. With John at the hospital, they’re a man down. Finn joined the business, but we all know that the guy cannot replace his brother, he’s too soft. Polly is too worried about Michael to actually help Tommy, and she basically hates him. I won’t go into details, you already know their story. There’s a war between them, they’re not sticking together, they’re weak, Tommy’s weak, but he has men on their side. As long as he stays in Birmingham, you can’t touch him”

You had previously agreed with Tommy on the things to reveal and the things to lie about. You both believed that saying a half truth was the best way to gain Luca’s trust.

He nodded, tapping his hand on his desk, looking at it in deep thought.

“So, the only way to kill Tommy is to bring him outside Birmingham” he stated, probably thinking about his next move.

“Precisely. But he won’t leave Birmingham alone without a reason, he’s not stupid”

He stayed silent for a while, then he abruptly got up. You followed his movements with your eyes, trying to predict his intentions. You tried to hide your nervousness, keeping your head high. He walked around the desk, placing himself in front of you, leaning on it.

“So, we have to find a way to make him go outside the city. How?” he asked, looking at you.

“I need a couple days to think about it” you said “he won’t leave the city without a valid reason. I’ll let you know as soon as I come up with something” you added, standing up, ready to go away.

Just as you were about to walk past him, he firmly grabbed your arm, without hurting you, but with enough force to make you turn to him. You raised your head to look at him, you had never noticed how tall he was until that moment. You nervously swallowed as he slowly leaned towards you.

“Se dovessi scoprire che mi stai mentendo” (If I were to discover that you’re lying to me) he said in a low voice “non avrei la minima pietà o compassione per te” (I wouldn’t have the least bit of mercy nor compassion on you)

The change in his tone and the look in his eyes sent chills down your spine. With his apparent cordiality and good manners, he could conceal his true nature. You knew what he was capable of, but somehow he was able to perfectly hide it. The way he said those words to you, reminded you of who he really was. It didn’t matter how polite and elegant he showed himself to be, he still was cutthroat and unforgiving. He carried hatred in his heart and he used it as a weapon. That was what made him dangerous.

“Non ti sto mentendo” you affirmed, looking him in the eyes.

(I’m not lying to you)

He let go of your arm and you took some steps back, neither of you taking your eyes off the other. After one last look, you turned your back, walking towards the exit.

“Our deal is still on. I think you’ll bring a lot of benefits to my company, when you’ll be working for me after the vendetta is won” he stated when you opened the door.

“I’m glad to hear that” you replied, walking out the door and closing it behind your back, without a look.

******

“So, what are you gonna do with her after you’ll win the vendetta?” Matteo asked, pouring some whiskey in two glasses. They were both sat on the couch in Luca’s office, talking about the plan.

Luca leaned back on the couch, drinking the liquid in his glass in one gulp.

“It’s simple” he shrugged his shoulders “I’m gonna kill her”

“I thought you considered killing her a waste” Matteo replied, taking a sip from his glass.

Luca thought about it for a moment, pondering the situation, then he shook his head.

“I’m going to kill them all, Matteo. Thomas Shelby has to pay. None of them will survive”

[maggyme13]

Sugar (12/?)

AN: Sorry for the long wait. But here finally is the next chapter of Sugar. As you might now, I am working as an wood-working apprentice and we have extremele much work to do at the moment. SO I had no energy or time to write. I hope it will get better in the near future.

Wordcount: around 1200

Warnings: heartbreak, angst

Masterlist

Sugar- Masterlist

Part 11

Knowing this could easily turn into a two or even three week long stay, you packed enough of everything and even called a pharmacy in Charming to see if they had your mothers medicine in stock and how long it would take to order.

Luckily they had more than enough in stock and within two hours the little group of the three of you were on the road. With Bucky driving your rental, your mother on the passenger-seat and you in the back with your dog, explaining to your aunt what had happened  and asking her to look after your house.

She promised and was very understanding, she knew how your brother ticked, and promised to look after the house until you or your Ma returned.

Bucky had informed Loki about your change of housing (and everything around that), while you were packing the bags. He had promised that it was no problem; your Ma still promised to bake him a huge pie as thanks.

And so, you crossed the Charming County limits for the third time within a week and you hated it and knew a lot of places you would rather be; one of those was the camp you had stayed at with Monty and Bob.

Within seconds of crossing the boarder, the SUV was surrounded by the Motorcycle-crew of your brother. The group of you was escorted to your destination.

“As much as I want to tell you to just drive, follow them and hope we are not aiming for the clubhouse.”, you sighted.

“Got it.”, Bucky answered and your mother piped in as well.

“As much as I love my son. I will not stay in that house. I don´t need to see his bed-bunnies.”

“If he does, I pay for a motel-room Ma, and no arguments. I will not stay 24 / 7 in the vicinity of someone who hates me.”, you declared.

Unfortunately though did you have not other choice than to stay with your brother, he (or his club) had managed to persuade everyone in the city to not rent to you or Bucky. You had no idea why, because none of them seemed to be happy about the strange male staying at the clubhouse; but they kept your mouths shut and the two of you stayed away as much as possible, taking your mother with you.

It was a week before Christmas, when you got the call that would change a lot.

“(y/n)”, Bucky spoke, sitting down at the picnic table you and your Ma were sitting at, “Boss called. He, Thor and Sam are coming over for Christmas. Heimdal was able to organize a house.”

A smile crossed your face, finally you would be able to leave this damn place. “When will they land?”

“Five minutes ago. They are currently on their way here from the airport. Stopping on the way to get some groceries. Boss wants to have a meeting with you tomorrow.”

You understood what the man meant; a date and a (short) escape from your current hell.

“Thanks for the Info. What are you going to do tomorrow then?”

“Spending a day of with Sam. Thor is going to escort you and Boss. We will meet up again when they get you back here.”

.--..--..--..--.

“He is your Boss, huh?”, you heard your brother great you with a growl in his voice.

“Yes, why are you asking.”, you sighted. The small date had taken your mind of the situation at hand.

“Funny, looks for me like the two of you had a date and that was not a business one. More like he took you out of more personal reasons.”

“He is my boss. You want my employment contract?”

“Why? Does it tell me how often you have to fuck him a day?”, he spat and you could not believe what you heard.

“What?”

“Don´t be so stupid. NO one lent 75k without a good reason or payback. So, did you have to bent over and take it in the ass for him to give you the money? God knows it can´t be the mouth of yours, that´s not even good for talkin´.”  A dry laugh followed his statement and the toothpick in his mouth twitched from one side to the other of his mouth.

You could not believe what just happened. Blinking in surprise you tried to find words.

“Don´t be so stupid. Ya think I don´t know what a Sugarbaby is? You are a fucking glorified whore. That you can even dare to visit Ma … Disgrace won´t even fit it.”

Shock was the only thing you felt.

“Excuse me? You may hate me, but I am still your Sister.”, you breathed.

“No Lowman sells their Body for money and I sure as hell don´t have a sister who is a whore. And Ma does not need or want a hoe as a daughter.”

“What?”, tears threatened to fall.

“You, heard me Bitch.”, he growled, “Don´t let the gate hit you on the Ass on your way out; don´t want to spoil your Daddy´s fun. Do we?”

His words were so final and his eyes so cold and black, that there was nothing you would be able to say or do.

Your brother had just disowned you and now were alone.

“Hey, (y/n), what has you looking like that? Something wrong with your Ma? Or did yer boss fire you? Let me-”, the voice of one of the few Bikers you kind of liked called, pulling you out of your shocked state.

“Mr Trager. I...I am fine, thank you. Plea-please tell Mrs Low- I will leave now. Have a nice evening.”, you answered with tears in your voice.

“Mr Trager? Mrs Low- … did you just refer to your Mother as Mrs Lowman? What happened?”, the man sounded genuinely worried.

“I need to go.”, you sobbed, almost running out of the parking lot with your smartphone in hand.

“I am  sorry to call you sobb I don´t know where to go.”, you called Bucky.

“On my way.”, he answered at once, “ You alright? What is wrong? Sam, hurry up.”

“I should be at the park in a few minutes.”, you mumbled, finally able to realize where your feet were bringing you.

“Got it. I think we already see you.”

Not a minute later, a big black car stopped next to you and your friends and protectors jumped out.

“What did he do?”, the dark haired man growled, “What did your brother do?”

He pulled you into an warm embrace, one you happily accepted.

“I don´t have one. Neither a Ma, or Aunt. At least not anymore. I am alone now. ´No Lowman sells their body and no one wants or needs a whore as a daughter´”, with the last part you paraphrased your brothers words.

“That Bastard.”, this time it was Sam who cursed, “Come on girl. Let´s get you home, and then  we will go and buy you Ice-Cream and any Chick-flick you want to see.”

You really wanted to smile at him for that offer, but at that moment there were no emotions left inside you. With a nod, you let them know you understood.

“Boss has a few meetings around town and the bordering area. Is the house okay, or do you want us to get you a Hotel room?”

“House is fine.”, you mumbled.

“Alright. Then let´s get you settled.”

Part 13

AN 2.0. Will she be locked up? and what will happen once she enters charming?

REBLOGS and comments are appreciated:)

Thank you very much.

~MaggY

Taglists:

Permanent:

@jadepc​@pacifyhxlsey​ @thankyoukarenclifford​

@thankyouforanonymity​  @punkrockhufflefluff​

@scarletraine @buckycaptspideypool  @markusstraya @graveyard-groupie @markusstrayya @randomgirlkensy @the-soulofdevil

@marshyrebelcloud

MCU:

@yknott81​    @banner-and-bucky-are-life​ @forext20 @dyanlzbb​  @so-finster-die-nacht @emmii4​ @bitchwhytho​ @ladyofmyst​   @jilldsumner​ @momc95​ @appreciating-fanfics

Sugar:

@bits-and-bobs-and-kawaii-stuffs @mimmie666​   @fullranchwolfoperator

@cluelessnitwhit​ @youknowitsclouds @his-paradox @purplerainharry​

@spootgaai2000 @iamsuperjenna @nikkipea   @alexakeyloveloki @timelordy-fangirl2 @girrafeeeeeee @emilyjane44x @randomgirlwholoveskpop

I couldnt tag a few of you… sorry.

Want to get tagged as well? Comment, Reblog or send an ask to let me know.

[krisseycrystal]

rated: t

fandom: Gravity Falls

prompt: “Locked in a Freezer” + Stan & Dipper (& Ford)

requested by: @trashgoblinonyourporch

SO MY AMAZING FRIEND PAX SENT ME AN EXCELLENT CHALLENGE because i have never written a Gravity Falls fic before, w/ my choice of Stan, Dipper, or Ford locked in a freezer and I like to challenge hurt myself even further so i picked Stan & Dipper and had Ford cameo at the end

it’s a Time

hope you enjoy! if you want more angst, feel free to request something! i still have four prompts available on this bad boi alsdkjflkjsf

- o - o - o -

Gelid [Read on AO3]

- o - o - o -

“HEY!”

Maybe the first thing Stan should have felt when the thick door swung shut at their backs was panic. Maybe stupidity--he knew that ugly bastard with the toothpick between his teeth was lyin’ when he denied that there were ghosts in his quote-unquote “historic” bar; he knew it--but instead, all Stan can feel is a ravaging, crater-deep guilt. 

“Grunkle Stan?”

It was his idea to invite the twins along on this summer trip to the East Coast. It was him who first said, hey, whaddya know, we’re passin’ through their part’a town, Ford. Whaddya say? Let’s pick up the kiddos, have ‘em stuff their duffels in the back and let ‘em tag along on our haunted haunts tour ‘long the New England coast. They’re probably all goofs, anyway. What’s the harm?

This bar.

With its fucking deep-ass freezer.

That’s the harm.

After frantically pulling on the long handlebar once, twice, then heaving as hard as he could and throwing his shoulder into the door, Stan finally steps back and wraps his arms around himself. His faux-gold rings with their cubic zirconia catches on the cloth of his sleeves as he vigorously rubs his forearms. “Kid, do you wear anything else other than those dumb shorts and tee-shirt?”

Dipper’s already mimicking him, smart kid, but his teeth are chattering. Not a good sign. “It’s not like I have access to my bag right now to change! If I’d known some ghost was gonna lock us in a freezer, then I’d have worn something a little warmer!”

Stan rolls his eyes. “Got that fancy new cell of yours, don’tcha? Just call your sister!”

Dipper’s eyes light up. Had he forgotten he had it? Go figure. Shermi’s daughter had been so hesitant to give the twins cells, but after they turned thirteen, well…he’s sure Dipper and Mabel worked their own case pretty hard. It certainly paid off. It’s going to pay off.

It has to.

It only takes a few seconds tapping on the screen with shaking fingers to make Dipper’s face fall. “No service.”

“What? Let me see that.”

Dipper doesn’t fight when Stan swipes the dinky device out of his hand. But he does watch, unimpressed, tiny hands rubbing his arms, as Stan pretends to recognize what the hell it is he’s looking at on the screen. Fuckin’ tiny-ass white blobs. What do those things mean? Is that a percentage? Is 35 good or bad?

He tosses it back, grumbling. They need to get out. Fast. What’s the first thing to get frostbitten? How long does that take?

“Look, kid,” Stan huffs, his breath a white cloud glittering in the dark. “I’m putting you on cell duty. Your job is to think of a way to tell the others we’re down here so they can come rescue our asses.”

Are Dipper’s cheeks pinkening because of the cold, or because Stan cursed in front of him? Hard to tell. “Right.” 

Dipper bows his head over his phone, the bill of his blue pine-tree hat obscuring his face. His thumbs tap madly away; how the hell does he do that so fast? Then he turns, tremblingly striding the length of the walk-in freezer back and forth. At each corner, Dipper stops, raising his cell high above his head with a tight grimace. He stretches onto his tip-toes, waves the device right and left, and with a look of consternation, begins the process over again in a different corner. 

Stan watches his hands for a second more before it clicks.

“Dipper, take off your socks.”

“My what?” 

“Your socks.” Stan hurriedly bends over to do the same, peeling off his holey socks from his shoes before shoving his feet back inside. “Put them on your hands. Your dumb fingers are gonna get frostbit before anythin’ else and that ain’t gonna take more than two minutes.”

“B-but, Grunkle Stan, you just told me to I gotta use--”

“--do you want to lose your digits or not, kid?”

Is it a mercy or a worry that Dipper doesn’t fight him on this?

With his mouth set in a thin line, Dipper hands off his phone to Stan and squats to untie his shoes. Every passing second, the kid’s teeth chatter harder and harder; his fingers shake so much, he fumbles with the strings, pinching them and dropping them over and over again. He tugs and tugs to undo the shoelace, but it doesn’t budge. “G-Grunkle Stan, I can’t--I--”

There’s a terrible, terrible break in the kid’s already squeaky-ass voice.

Like an echo, a ricochet, something else breaks and cracks in the center of Stan’s chest.

He shoots forward, falling to his knee before he thinks better of it. His weary bones scream in protest, but not as badly as his skin does. It only takes seconds for the wet chill of the freezer floor to seep through his pants. He shoves Dipper’s phone in his pocket and doesn’t see the way the screen lights up as he does.

“It’s okay. I’ve got ya, kid,” he mutters and yanks the Converse laces loose himself. 

When Dipper’s hands are covered with twin stinky, middle-school white ankle-socks, Stan breathes a sigh of relief. Standing, he finds, is much worse on his creaky body immediately after kneeling.

“Remind me not to Cinderella you again, kid,” Stan groans, placing a sock-mittened hand in the center of his back.

Dipper chuckles, but it’s weak. The kid’s eyes shine a little too brightly in the dark, unshed tears making his eyelashes sparkle with frost. “Y-yeah. That was…awkward.” He clears his throat and holds out his socked hand expectantly, still shivering uncontrollably.

“Hm? What? Oh.” Stan fishes the kid’s phone back out.

Dipper’s face lights up at the same time as his screen does. “Grunkle Stan! Grunkle Stan we did it! We got a message through!”

“What?”

Dipper hurries over, pressing close to his side, and shoving his phone in his face as if he’s supposed to be able to read the tiny black font printed inside those grey boxes. 24%. There’s a funny, probably candid, photo of Mabel beside each one. Her cheek is pressed up against a wooden table with her tongue hanging out of her mouth, her face the utter look of someone who has eaten far too much cake and has icing all around her mouth to prove it. Does she even know Dipper took that picture? Who cares; it’s priceless.

“What am I supposed to be lookin’ at?”

“What Mabel said! She and Ford are on their way! They’ll be here in fifteen minutes!”

Fifteen minutes. Fifteen minutes.

“Kid, you tell her to tell my brother to step on it. We could be popsicles in fifteen minutes!”

“Y-yeah, but--”

“--and then as soon as you're done, come over here.” Stan didn’t want to have to do this, but it looks like he has little choice. He turns around, hunting for loose, broken-down cardboard boxes or crates and finds a stash of them pinned between a steel shelf and the wall. Hell yeah. “If we’re gonna last ‘till then, then we gotta hunker. No if’s, and’s, or but’s about it.”

“H-hunker?”

Stan throws several sheets of unfolded cardboard on the floor and covers the floor as much as he can.

“Hunker,” he confirms. 

- o - o - o -

The first five minutes aren’t horrible. Dipper is reluctant to huddle close and wants to stand and move around instead of sit down on a makeshift mat of cardboard. The kid admirably performs a few back-and-forth laps of high-knees and jumping-jacks before exhaustion kicks in and his body shivers too hard to do a single rep more.

Stan doesn’t even need to say anything. He holds out an arm and Dipper comes stumbling over back to him, shaking so hard, skin wane and pale, he might be as blue as his hat.

The second five minutes are spent clutching at each other, shivering tightly in a teeth-chattering huddle. In the end, Stan burrito-wraps his jacket around Dipper and pulls him over to curl against the pudge of his front. His socked hands run up and down, up and down the kid’s back as quickly as they can.

At the end of the third five minutes, Dipper begins to cry and Stan knows it’s because some part of him--his nose, probably--has frostbite setting in because it’s settling in on his nose and ears at the same time.

“Shit.”

“I-it--” It’s damn near pathetic the way the kid can barely talk. “--i-it h-h-hurts, G-Grunkle S--”

“--y-yeah. I know; I know…” 

Dipper’s breath is thin and quick under the tightness of his tears. He gasps for air, breath puffing up over and over again against his face. It’s pathetic. The way his thin shoulders are pulled up to his frozen ears; the way he can feel the tremors wrecking the kid in the middle of his hold. This entire damn thing is pathetic.

…and so is he, he thinks.

“I-I’m sorry,” Dipper stutters, voice so small. “I-I shouldn’t have--w-we s-shouldn’t have c-come here--I w-was stupid to th-think that--”

“Nope. None of that,” Stan clutches the kid tighter. “Shut up. Now.”

Dipper’s socked hands dig into the thin fabric of his button-up. Whether or not Stan actually meant to bring him to silence, that faltering apology is the last thing Dipper tries to say.

Twenty minutes pass.

- o - o - o -

Ford’s voice, when Stan finally hears it or thinks he hears it, is distant, like a dream. It washes over Stan with all the cotton-balled effect of damaged stereo speakers. Or maybe that’s just his hearing aids going out.

There are mittened hands on his shoulders, separate from the ones trying to pry away the huddle locked against his chest. As soon as the loss of a kid finally registers in his dumb, befuddled head, he writhes and fights. He rears up a socked fist to throw it--but it’s easily caught in a broad, six-fingered hand.

“Stanley. Stanley. It’s me. It’s okay.”

It takes monumental effort to crack open his eyelids and peer up. Something chilled and grainy falls down his cheeks. “Poindexter?”

“Stanley,” and the relief is so great and thick that any bitter anger Stan had in his chest at their belated rescue fizzles. “Oh, I’m so sorry. The ghost was…trying, to say the least. Mabel and I had to exorcise it before we could even get down to the basement. It…the entire process took much longer than it should have. And that never should have…I’m…” 

Dipper is pulled away from him and this time, he doesn’t resist. He can see the cool blue-black of police uniforms and the yellow jacket of paramedics.

“We tried to call you, but I suppose Dipper’s phone must have died. It went straight to voicemail.”

“Can it with the s-stupid apologies, will ya?” Stan sighs and his body shakes hard before stilling. “T-tired of it. Shit h-happened. W-we got locked in a f-f-f-fucking freezer. Just…get us the fuck out of here before I th-think about h-how I might sink s-some cruise ships.” 

Ford’s smile is rueful and exasperated. He looks over his shoulder at the paramedics that approach with a thick blanket in hand.

“I’ll make sure to keep you away from oceans, for a while, then.”

“W-water and ic-c-c-e in general. Th-thanks.”

“Noted.” Then the humor slips away and something else, something soft, gentles Ford’s face. It’s disgusting. Just like the blanket the paramedics wrap around Stan’s shoulders. “You’re going to be all right, Stan.”

“Yeah…” Stan’s eyes slip left, looking at the freezer’s now-open doorway.

“Dipper, too.”

Stan sniffs. When the paramedics pull Ford back to reach out and take his arms, he nods at his brother in wordless thanks.