#I crawl out of my finals crunch to deliver this

[silverior968]

My friend and I had a vision

[Image ID: A digital doodle of Anton Shudder wearing a t-shirt with a triangle-shaped cut on the chest, and a print that says "I'm with stupid" with an arrow pointing towards the cut. / End ID]

[desires-of-chain]

A Smell So Sweet

It’s been a while, but here I am, back once more, wizard anon! This one has been sitting in my docs half finished for like, a month, and I am finally here to deliver some Twilight content for y'all. And perhaps the other things I’ve written shall see the light of day sometime soon…

Anyway, on with the show!

Content: gender neutral reader, Twilight and his enhanced nose, and his scent kink, eating out/giving head, facefucking, facials. Word count: 942

—-

You pull your hand out of your underwear frantically, standing back from the tree you were leant against. Shit, you completely forgot about Twilight’s patrol tonight.

You hear his boots crunching against the leaves and twigs of the forest underbrush, heading straight towards you, and you curse the wolf form for giving him heightened sense of smell. There’s no way he doesn’t know what you came out here to do. When he calls out your name, voice dropped an octave lower than usual, your fate is sealed.

“I could’ve helped you back at camp, y’know.” He leans up against the tree you originally rested your back on to take care of your… business.

“And wake everyone up? No thanks. I can take care of this just fine.”

You begin to back away from Twilight, if only to lessen the smell and thus make it less awkward for him, but he stalks after you. It feels like you’re being hunted, the way he keeps his eyes trained on your body. You’d be lying if you said it wasn’t incredibly hot. That he… sniffed you out, compelled to be close to you simply by smelling your own need.

“Would you enjoy if I helped you take care of it?”

Goddess, yes you would. If he had waited any longer before interrupting, you are sure he would’ve heard his name out of your mouth as you touched yourself.

You’re about to say so when you trip over a tree root and go tumbling backwards. Twilight tries to catch you, but instead ends up on top of you, almost pinning you down. If you weren’t one half stunned and the other half horny your brain would likely believe it was on purpose. As it stands, all you can think about is the weight of his bulk pushing your legs apart around his hips.

“You smell so fucking good…” He leans down and begins peppering kisses along your neck and collarbone - you’re only in your loose underlayers, since it’s the middle of the night. Twilight could get to any of you with ease, and the hands crawling across your stomach and chest confirm it. Your hands go to the hem of your trousers, trying to push them out of the way.

“C'mon then, show me a good time.”

He shifts away from you just enough to allow you to discard your trousers, lower half now bare and at the mercy of the elements - and Twilight’s mouth, as he immediately shuffles down and begins biting and kissing your thighs. You breathe heavily through the sensations, thighs sensitive and ticklish. Then strong hands push your legs to bracket his face and he moves closer to your need.

“You’re irresistible. I could smell you all the way back at camp - goddess, I needed to get my mouth on you.” He leans down and drags his tongue up the length of you. You can’t help but cry out, warmth of his mouth and texture of his tongue shocking pleasure through your system. He keeps his lips moving, shifting to your most sensitive part and taking it into his mouth. Then he sucks, looking back up at you with open pleading eyes.

“Fucking hell, rancher… you really are desperate for it.” He moans against you, and you moan in turn at the vibrations. His hands push you further against his face, back and forth, and through the haze of the pleasure you figure out what he wants you to do.

You buck up. He takes it, tongue pushing out of his mouth to catch more of you, his face the picture of bliss.

Within no time, you’re properly fucking his face, chasing your pleasure against him as he laps you up willingly. Neither of you are quiet - both too preoccupied to worry about if anyone hears, Twilight moaning against you with every buck and swirl of his tongue, yourself too caught up in the feeling to even know what sounds are coming out of your mouth.

Your hands come down to weave into his hair as you get closer to your peak, controlling his movement and really pushing yourself into his mouth. He welcomes the force easily, letting you move his head any way you wish.

When you orgasm, you cover the bottom half of Twilight’s face in your spend. Catching your breath, you try to apologise - but the words die in your throat as you take in his expression.

Pure, unmistakable happiness and satisfaction.

He sits back on his knees, dazedly wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, staring down at you. Then, he finally seems to get his wits about him - his face flushes three shades darker, and he fumbles around himself for your discarded clothes.

“Sorry, I, er– I don’t fully know what came over me. I just– you smelled so good. Sorry if I came on too strong—” You rise to your knees and grab his chin. Your hand found your trousers half way through his rambling, and you pull the bottom of one of the legs up to his face.

“This looks good on you.” You say, slowly and gently wiping his face. “Don’t apologise. I was into it.” You finish up with a kiss - still slightly tasting yourself on his lips. He just stares back. Even as you pull your trousers back on, beckoning him to stand and head back to camp with you, he kneels there with a dumb blank look on his face.

Suddenly realising he’s about to be left behind, he scrambles to his feet after you, following you with a half pleading,

“Does that mean we can do this again?” ---------------------------- jkdflsjkfhjdsflsd, THAT’S SUM GOOD SHIT RIGHT THERE. GOOD SHIT I TELL YA

[just-some-random-blogger]

Left In Hell

Dream of The Endless x Musician!Reader

Summary: You left your harp in hell, and by the domain's laws, the item was quickly claimed by a demon. Your only hope of claiming it back was a bit of luck and a bit of Dream.

Word Count: 1k+

Warnings: Insufferable!Dream, jittery!reader, gender neutral!reader, deity!reader ig, intense make out scene, typos, etc.

A/N: I originally posted this on my AO3 but yeah i wanted to bring this over here psssst a part two? "Sounds Like Heaven"

The hair on the back of my neck was raised. My stance was low as I carefully tread this annex of hell.

I let out a string of profanities once I saw exactly who was holding my instrument. I stilled in my creeping to hide behind a boulder near the swamp of torment when the demon looked over its shoulder.

I shuddered at the howls of help in the undead slurry of water and had to slap my hand on my mouth, as not to allow my squeaks from being heard.

In my anxiousness and fear, I topple backwards on my bum. I crawl away, breath hitching through my attempts to calm myself down.

I jolt up, startled when my hand pressed onto a dry branch, causing it to break with a loud crunching noise. Then I hold back a scream as I feel my back come in contact with something unanticipated.

I throw myself forward and whip my head back, in an attempt to see what I hit. Stupidly though, my frantic action nearly made me dive into the river.

I was blessed by the gods when something pulled me back and brought me to my feet.

I bring my hands up to my face in some sort of defense, although truly, it wouldn't matter, because whatever being hell would not be deterred by two fleshy limbs.

I find myself pressed against a chest with an arm around my back. I look back at the being that saved me then let out a sigh of relief, "it seems it's not the gods but the Endless that has delivered me."

Dream of the Endless, with his signature brooding look and gleaming yet tired eyes, peers down at me, inquiring with a dark tone, "what are you doing in hell?"

I place my palms on his firm chest and breathe in deeply before replying, "I was invited. The Lightbringer had always been fond of my music," I turn away from him, not bearing the weight of his gaze, "but then as I was about to leave, I realized I left my instrument."

Dream tilts his head.

"So, naturally, I came back for it, but by then a demon already laid claim on it, as it was technically already a lost item."

I hear his deep yet soft chuckle.

I make a twisted face of embarrassment and regret, and turn back to him, "I'm not causing trouble, I swear. Lucifer allowed me to retrieve my ha-my instrument, my instrument, my instrument, by my own power."

He hums then I realize I gave myself away by saying the words 'my instrument' a bit too much, "so it is your Harp of Dreamlight that got stolen?" He finally releases me, "no wonder you why you haven't begged me to help you the moment you saw my face."

"Please, my lord," I quickly change tune and grovel. I bend down and grab his coat, "there can be no forgiveness for losing your most precious gift, but surely, you cannot allow a demon make music with it."

The Lord of Dreams lowers his eyes to me, grabbing my arms, bringing me back to my feet, "the thought is most disturbing, and yet if I meddle, I would be overextending my power in a domain that is not mine."

"You wouldn't have to do anything," I shake my hand, gripping my hands on the lower part of his collar, "just allow me-- to..." I do a double take when I realize he had a raven on his shoulder. I raise my brows at the bird, "oh, hello. I hadn't noticed you there."

The raven squawks after I say my name in greeting, then replies, "I'm Matthew. I'd say it's nice to meet you, but considering we're in hell and all, I really can't."

I break into a soft chuckle, "that's true. I remember the first time I came here. It was horrible, I nearly couldn't-"

"This is exactly why you lost your harp in the first place," Dream cuts in, making me jolt in surprise and lower my gaze, "you are so fickle and so thoughtless that your focus so quickly fades."

I purse my lips at his harsh but true words as Dream brings his face down and further speaks, "well? What is your plan?"

I lift my eyes up to him and let out a nervous chuckle, "right, right. My plan. My plan. My plan." I grab his arm and point my finger very to the direction of the demon that was holding my harp closely by my chest.

Both Dream and I jerk when the demon begins to roughly rip through the chords of the instrument, playing it not only out of tune, but with such lack of care it breaks a string, then another.

I heave heavily and face the harp's maker, "That thing is a lust demon, so I was thinking I would flash it and make a run for it-"

"That is a reckless and horrible plan only one like you coul-"

"-but now that you're here!" I raise my voice, "we can just make out really, really roughly, and then Matthew could go fly over and grab it--"

"Matthew could what?!" Matthew repeats, "you are talking about that giant harp right?! There is no way I could."

"It turned giant because of that demon!" I exclaim a bit too loud because of my nerves, "it morphs itself to the size of the player. All you have to do is perch on it and-"

"You want me to perch on a harp next to a fucking mammoth demon!?"

"No!" I raise my hands and pull away from Dream to fully face the bird on his shoulder, "it's not a mammoth demon, it's a lust demon! I've never even heard of a mammoth demon!"

"I MEANT IT'S A LARGE DEMON! MAMMOTH AS IN LARGE!"

"Well how was I supposed to know that?!" I screech back.

"OI!" a cruelly loud voice calls, making all of us turn to the said demon that was holding my harp hostage, "WHAT DO YOU LOT WANT?!"

My eyes widen and my pulse quickens.

"No time," I squeak, shooing the bird away.

I then grab his master by the neck, pulling him down to crash my lips on him.

Matthew croaks in protest, flapping overhead, watching us kiss. He dares a look at the demon, and is honestly shocked to see that its angry face was now completely blank as the thing watched the two kiss before him.

He thinks about how weird and borderline disturbing this whole thing is.

My head was spinning because of the intimate exchange. Dream had placed his hands on my back and pulled me close. I had dug my hands in his already disheveled hair.

His lips were like wine I was getting drunk on. My body against him felt so at home even in a place such as this. And though I really didn't want to, I break away momentarily from the heated kiss to see how Matthew was fairing.

I let out a groan for two reasons, Matthew was still flying overhead, and Dream started kissing my neck.

"Matthew!" I whine out a plea as I looked up at him.

I squeak out in pain at the sudden nip at my earlobe. It seems Dream did not appreciate whatever I did, but I don't manage to do anything but melt against Dream's lips again as he presses his lips on mine.

I don't know if I was beginning to hear things, which would not be farfetched, considering there are echoes of misery here, but I could have sworn it was Dream that grumbled something along the lines of, "dare you say the name of another while kissing me?"

Nah.

That's probably all in my head.

I then squeak at the sudden shift in our stance; I was being lifted up by my thighs. His grip was firmly encouraging my legs to snake their way around his waist.

Matthew, at this point, finally makes way to the harp, heaving in both fear and tiredness, since he could not bring himself to fly high enough, lest he be caught up in the fog of wraiths above him.

True enough, once he perches on the harp, it rapidly begins to shrink.

"Boss!" Matthew croaks, "I got it," he says, beginning to fly off.

Instantly, Dream releases my lower lip, which he had caught in between his teeth, and my mind begins to spin.

I barely even register the sand that was suddenly swirling around us.

The next thing I know, there is a light that is irritating my eyes.

I turn back to Dream, nibbling my lips at the sight of his bitten ones, feeling my stomach flip at the sight of his eyes that were looking down at my lips.

"I got it," Matthew proudly calls again, flying over to us with a small harp hanging from his two claws. It was his voice that brought my back to reality, or so I realized as I was let down on the floor, to the main hall of the Dreaming.

I look up to Matthew as flies down to place the harp on the floor. I release a breath and crouch down to meet Matthew eye to eye, "thank you so much." I stand, then turn to Dream, whose heavy gaze was already on me. I am unable to croak out thanks at the unsorted looks of him.

"My Lord, I had not realized you have retur--" the voice of Lucienne echoes in the grand expanse of the room.

I turn to the speaker, breaking into a smile, "Lucienne! It's been a while!"

The librarian's eyebrows quirk as her eyes dart between her master's face and her master's guest. She decides not to remark on the swollenness of their lips and the unusual roughness of her master's hair, and instead readies herself with the incoming embrace.

I jog over to her and pull her into my arms.

She smiles back at me after I break away, then says, "the whole of Dreaming will be pleased to know of your visit."

"Yes, it's been a while since these halls have echoed with Dreamlight," I say, turning to Dream, who looked suddenly back to normal-- hair in its normally wild state, and lips not at all swollen, then to my harp, heart sinking at the sight of it's broken strings, "but I'm afraid I can't play you anything while its strings are broken."

I turn back to Dream and move to and fro on the pads of my feet, "unless, that is, I get some help-" "are you asking me for yet another favor, harpist?" Dream's voice booms across the expanse of what felt like the entire Dreaming.

"NO!" I squeak quickly, raising my hands up, "no, no! Psssssh," I shake my head quickly, "not at all. I can," I sigh, "collect my own materials in the abyss..." and turn to my feet with a painful look, "and forge my own strings by myself."

"Very good," Dream states, "I do hope you accomplish it quickly so you can perform for us all soon."

With that, he turns about and walks away, saying something about being terribly busy. And yet even if it was unwise to do so, I could not help myself to raise my fist at him in annoyance as I watched him leave.

[infernal-general]

@saburaito

Heeled boots rhythmic clicks echoed through the silent streets, as suspected drawing a few less than savory lingering leers.

It took tremendous effort to keep her grin hidden and play the lost rich woman with a little too high slit dress a bit longer. Flickering lamps cast ominous shadows on her face, now well aware the pair of footsteps steadily following hers, the grip on the cane's handle tightening in excitement. The flex of long, elegant fingers were misinterpreted as a gesture of fear given by the faint snickers and the "Isn't it too cold out for ya in that pretty dress? I could warm you up!" explanation followed by many others in varying degrees of creativity

The lamp was broken when she decided to stop and turn around.

“I'm afraid I'm a little lost...my friend was supposed to pick me up somewhere” which was part truth, she had to weave her way out from the charity event, unseen both by airheaded guests and her bodyguards.

"We can show the way for a favor" followed by laughter until one finally ogled something else than her legs and realized the eyepatch covering her left eye "Holy shit the bitch is half blind!" Now that caused a snarl to ripple across Rozália's face, seems like she had grown too accustomed to people knowing and fearing her enough to not let even the thought of that cross their minds out of terror.

"Maybe completely" the otherwise silent one pointed at her cane and had the gall to wave his palms in front of her face

“Afraid I won't see your dick? Perhaps I should've bought magnifying glass too.” can't fit so much to the ridiculously tiny purse died on her tongue as greedy fingers grasped her from behind while the silent guy decided to backhand her; truly a magnificently witty comeback.

Her mind mostly focused on the plan and the pleasure ahead, the barrage of insults starting or ending with slut, bitch barely registering.

“My turn.”

Was the only warning before her legs snapped close on the man's neck while using the other for leverage. A vicious roll of her torso sent all of them to the ground, her actual weight and confusion playing a large role in it. Like an agitated snake, she shot up from the ground, her left hook carrying an unforeseen amount of power behind it, quickly followed by a clean uppercut with the opposite hand. Ogler joined his friends Groper and Silent on the pavement in disbelief and considerable amount of pain.

"What the fuck! Crazy bitch!" Groper decided to swing a faulty punch despite not being far off in his exclamation. Emerald eye blazed with bloodlust as she caught the arm, already bending it the wrong way as she slid closer

“So you don't want to fuck me anymore?” the fake innocence stark contrast against her demonic expression and intention; bones breaking and poking through skin after a smooth upwards wrench, followed by her forehead slamming against the bride of his nose.

A small click

Rozália turned with amusement at the pocket knife pointed at her with utmost determination.

"You don't have to be alive for me to fuck." Silent announced and that was a new one. She lunged for the familiar silvery glint in the darkness, with a twist freeing the glistening sword from the sheath.

“Mine's bigger I'm afraid.” Rozália laughed with twisted mirth, using the moment of surprise to both deliver a slash forward and to kick Ogler in a twisted dance she mastered the steps to long ago.

The fencing was short lived as Silent was trying to unsuccessfully breath through his slashed throat on his knees. Sharp heel slamming down to the crawling Groper's uninjured hand, causing the man to spiral into a desperate whirlwind of pleas and apologies. He would do anything. But what to do when she only wanted him to bleed ? In a last ditch attempt Ogler decided to charge at her with a broken bottle.

The crunch of bone accompanyied by thunder of heels, the scream cut short by a sword through the throat. And this is how euphoria felt. Only slightly ruined by the fact that the victory was against such unskilled lowlife opponents. Maneuvering through the limbs of corpses for the discarded sheath of her sword was when she felt the presence.

Head cocked slightly after the precise twirl around, still full offensive position but she hasn't lunged yet.

“You must be truly lost.” she came to the conclusion after taking in the man's clothing and ethnicity. And she wouldn't sink as low as shanking a lost foreigner- “But I do hope you have no plans about telling anyone about the little show here. Police needs a few unsolved cases to run after.” her instincts told her not to sheath her blade yet. The same ones that whispered her sister was unfortunately alive and well; she was compelled to believe them. Weapon lowered slightly, still not relaxed in terms of position, the Viper was waiting.

[hollandsmushroom]

Tom and the reader at a party

And someone stares at her then tom gets jealous

Then tom starts fighting with the guy

(BTW u can add anything u want)

(Ik I'm dry😭)

Nah, i liked this one!

Read more here and request something here

Warnings: unwanted advances, slut shaming, victim blaming, harassment(like cat calling and saying reader a sl*t) Blood and fighting.

It was supposed to be a calm night, a fun night out with Tom and your friends to get drinks and dance, it was supposed to be relaxing, and it was oh it was a great time, until it wasn’t. You were standing at the bar with your palms flat on the wood that you were trying to avoid thinking about how sticky it was. You knew that Tom was near you, you just didn’t know exactly where, probably on the other end of the bar, hidden behind rows of people chatting with Harrison. You finally got the bartender's attention, leaning in closer to him so that you could assure he heard what you said, but just as you were about to open your mouth something interrupted you, well more like someone. A voice that on any other occasion would have been perfectly fine but in this moment sounded like the vocal embodiment of nails on a chalkboard, just something you don’t want around.

“What are you getting to drink?” the voice asked, making you look over your shoulder and lose the bartender to another patron.

“Well looks like nothing now, thanks” you bit at the man, he was taller than Tom but no more good looking, something you would describe as bland and if you had to guess probably had a name that started with J, Jackson or something.

“Aw, don’t be like that, let me buy you a drink and I can restart my first impressions” he offered with a smile but it resembled more of a sneer than anything else.

“Don’t be like what? Annoyed that you interrupted my ordering and now you’re trying to come on to me when I am clearly not interested” your words were harsh but you didn’t really know what else to do, this dude was really annoying you.

“You’re so much prettier when your mouth is shut” he spoke and his voice was like venom, annoying you to your very core but also making your skin crawl, you no longer felt safe in this guys presence but he was moving closer to you, motioning to trap you between the bar and his body, but just as he was about to press against you a hand gripped into his overly cologne soaked shirt, curling fingertips into his chest and pulling him away from you. Your eyes widened in shock as you looked up, seeing Tom holding a man much larger than him by the collar and delivering a blow to his cheek, letting the man fall to the floor.

“For fucks sake, what the hell?” The Jackson looking man spoke up, spitting out some pink saliva as he rubbed his jaw, Tom shook his hand out trying to rid the pins and needles that the blow had spread through his digits.

“What the fuck is with me? Really? No, what the fuck is with you, all creepy and gross and getting all up near my girlfriend” Tom seethed at the idiot in front of him.

“Sorry mate, she's not dressed like she has a boyfriend” Tom’s eyes widened comically as did yours.

“The fuck is that supposed to mean?”

“Well, dressed kinda like a slag, ya know? An ea-” The man didn’t get to finish his sentence instead being cut off by a loud crunching noise as Tom delivered a jab straight to the guy's nose. The man fell back, yelling something incoherent as blood began to stream down his face but neither you nor Tom paid attention as Tom turned to you.

“You alright love?” he asked, throwing his coat around your shoulders and pulling you into him, pressing a kiss to your temple as he guided you out of the bar.

“Yeah, my guardian angel came and saved me” you smiled up at Tom, taking his hand and kissing his bruised knuckles.

“It’s a job I take very seriously” Tom assured, squeezing your shoulder and tucking you even more into him.

[enha-woodzies]

➸ CHAPTER 5 | " ILLICIT AFFAIRS "

starring: enhypen ft. i-land daniel

pairing: jungwon x fem!reader x sunghoon

genres: royal au, romance, angst, slowburn, 18th century setting

word count: 1.8k

taglist: @serendipitysung @angeljungwon @en-sun @affectionaterainoflove @renkiv @softforjungwoo @jislix @fluffi @gyeraniee @stxrryemxlys

[ PREV. CHAPTER ] | [ M. LIST ] | [ NEXT CHAPTER ]

“The morning sun has come, and the evening moon is gone. Dearlings, I am elated to apprise you of the events at the debutantes’ ball that occurred as of late, and must I warn you, they're not for the feeble spirits!

The ton is abuzz with the most beefy tale as Northumberland’s jewel among the lovely rocks, Miss Y//n Park, has earned herself a ticket to glory! She danced with the most favored noblemen in the ton and surely, she went home with a hearty grace as she'll most likely expect an abundant roster of suitors in the following days.

Not only was she offered a dance by our dear second-born, Lord Yang, but she also had the privilege and pleasure to be twirled around the court by the most charming, Lord Lee, and the ever coveted nobleman among the ton, Lord Park, the next-in-line Duke of Northumberland!

Where's the beef you might ask? Well, it seems to me that these men are blindfoldedly playing fire with each other.

Not only does Lord Lee has women wrapped easily around his fingers, he has men too! With a sly steal of Miss Y/n’s hand from Lord Yang last night, he certainly left the chap earnestly plotting for a segue of intrusion- and Lord Yang intriguingly delivered!

With the timing in its most opportune, Lord Yang managed to finally dance with the young miss, in private! Ooh! This is new! My senses told me they spent their waltz in the Queen’s library, alone! How in the world did they let this happen to the ton’s jewel unchaperoned? That is something the Daily Tattle is unfortunately unable to unearth, but the mystery will continue to haunt us for long. Do take note: the more you hide in careful secret, the more people will know and hear about it.

What happened next will have you either boggled, or enchanted! The young lord abruptly rushed out the room before the music even ended! Should that be counted as a waltz at all? Before you ask about the enchanting part, Miss Y/n was seen dashing out the room moments later in tears and evident heartache. What do you think happened in the mere minutes of alone time in that large 4-cornered room?

But come now, enchanting stories aren't as they are without a knight in shining armor. In fact, in our young miss’ case, her knight wasn't clad in shining, silver sheath, but in magnificent and elegant, vintage red tailcoat draped over a loose white jabot shirt that’s cleanly tucked into the black, satin knee breeches, finished off with a pair of shiny Hessian boots. With skin as white almost akin to snow, it complemented perfectly with his ravishing fit. The beautiful marquess certainly dressed himself valiantly for the seasonal occasion. With that stunning presence, anyone would surely presume he went to the ball looking like a duke in careful search of a duchess.

Lord Park and Miss Y/n surprisingly became one of the ball’s highlights as they graced the Royal Court with the most heart-stopping, corset-itching, tantalizing waltz. All the while their faces are almost an inch apart from each other, a brooding identity was found hiding in the crowded corner of the hall! Under the bright gleam of the grand chandeliers, our dearest second-born, Lord Yang, was seen eyeing the two with such stare that even the buffy slice of vanilla cake on Lord Sunoo’s plate could almost melt in a blink of an eye!

Among the splendid tales told by yours truly, which tea do you think tastes like sweet ecstasy of oddity and fervor? It is the ton's tradition to portend the lady’s endgame by the person whom she had her last waltz with. From one man to another, should these prophecies dictate Miss Y/n Park’s fate?

Well, don't turn your heads away now! The story's just begun.”

The mid-morning sunrays peek through the large leaves and busty trunks of the hibernating redwood trees lining in disarray. Y/n is just about to plummet into her habitual readings in the Kielder forest and the autumnal breeze is keeping up with her bubbly morning approach, fortunately.

The sounds of the birds chirping and the dead leaves crunching under her shoes creep up through her puff sleeves making her tingle in giddiness and enthusiasm. She deeply inhales the aromatic forest and lets out a giggle in the process. With jumpy leaps and crispy leaves echoing in her every move, the young lady surely knows where she's going in this partly mysterious forest that is most often open only to men and men alone.

Somewhere deep in the evergreen woods, Y/n has built a fortress of her own for whenever she needs to run away from the seldom, mundane life in the manor. At the heart of Northumberland's famous Kielder Forest, lies a small, whimsical looking fort made up of translucent voile casually hanging on a tree branch. One of her lady maids helped her out with the fabric one time and it still stood prettily among the chaotic scenes that go around in the forest today.

She enters her slightly sheer fort and sits down on a pillow that she stole away from the comforts of her bedroom. Flipping the olden pages of the aged Jane Austen book she borrowed from a boy several years back, she heaves a sigh at the sight of a dead Catalpa flower resting on a particular page accompanied by a little, worn out parchment dating back to when she was a tiny ten-year-old lassie. She reads,

Her eyes drifted over the page to where the note and the old flower were situated. The pads of her fingers graze over the certain phrases that were underlined by the book's owner that says, “I cannot make speeches. If l loved you less, I might be able to talk about it more. But you know what I am.一 You hear nothing but truth from me.一”

She suddenly feels a gush of nostalgia and loneliness upon muttering the words she had ultimately carved in her tongue way back; reciting each word with fervor while she bask herself under the brightly-lit moonlight in their garden. How can children of ten gobble up such emotions at once? So much for a pair of hopeless romantic hearts from the distant years of ten, screaming disagreements and would later huddle on a sprawled out table cloth on the flowery fields, exchanging sentimental poesies and stolen stares.

She relives the brief moments they both shared last night in the Queen’s library, and ponders on how one could be so adjacent to the changing of tides in the sea; promptly, and mostly without warning.

“Well, well, well. If it isn't the feelings I've been trying to avoid.” She whispers to the autumn air. Unfortunately, her pondering truncates as snaps of twigs and crisps off dried leaves echoes in her corner. She hastily crawls out her hand-made canopy and brushes away any pieces of tiny crumpled leaves off her dress.

“What are you doi-”

“Who are you?” She cuts off the startled chap cladded in ragged clothing, apparently embodying that of a mainland farm boy.

“Greetings, your ladyship. I come in peace and I am just here to fetch the chopped woods I’ve laboured a day prior for the farm.” The chap with a very odd accent replies with both hands hanging mid-air. “You are fully aware that you shouldn't be in this place, especially unchaperoned, right?” He continues.

“I am fully aware. But such matters shouldn't concern you.”

“Indeed, my apologies. Furthermore, I will respect your unspoken wishes if it is truly your desire to keep your whereabouts hidden from your townspeople. My lady.”

Y/n relaxes from her bold stance as she found a hint of kindness from the odd stranger. Surprisingly, she extends her hand out to the stranger for a greeting.

“Please. Call me Y/n instead.” The boy looks at her open palm for half a minute before shaking it, looking as equally surprised as the young miss with the sudden gesture.

“You live pretty far from the town, huh?”

“I do. Life's utterly chaotic over on your end?”

“Oh, you don't have the slightest idea.” They both share laughters and inside jokes of their own livelihood that made the young miss settle her shoulders down comfortably.

“I'm Jake Sim. Just Jake Sim. Apparently, my name was originally Jaeyun, but the farm folks got used with Jake and so did I. They said it sounds more Australian.”

“Why would they associate your name with something Australian?” Y/n grew more curious as it was, after all, the first time she's ever been with a person that's not of Northumberland's proper.

“I grew up in Australia.”

“That's curious. How did an Australian boy land among the ragged farms of Europe?”

“It's complicated. The story involves a lot of conspiracies so it's definitely not for your ears. Some other time, maybe?” Y/n smirks at the sudden brazenness from her newly found acquaintance.

“Is this an Australian thing where we shift from acquaintanceship to something more?” She teases.

“Certainly, if you're down to it on your next Kielder visit?”

“For sure. But as for now, I must take my leave. My presence is very much needed for the promenade scheduled for me today.” Y/n half-covers her mouth as if reaching out for a whisper, hissing the last sentence.

“Ah! Rich people things that I could never.” The chap could only roll his eyes at the fancy thought.

“See you soon, Just Jake Sim!”

“Where have you been, princess?” The young miss scoffs at the marquess upon arriving at the town’s park, with a hand immediately sliding through Lord Park’s arm.

“Down with the flirtatious remarks now, aren't we? I went to promenade with myself, Your ever handsome Grace.” Sunghoon smirks at her tiny, playful whispers against his shoulders. They go around and about, traipsing along the cemented pavements as they give away acknowledging nods and polite smiles to whomever wants their brief attention.

The ton is still in amazed shock at the possibility of these two ending up with a ring on a finger. Everyone was subtly betting for Jungwon but as a result of his loss, a much better gent carried his girl off the floor. Something he let himself do, out of cowardice perhaps, or out of pride.

“Remind me the point of all this?” Y/n carefully whispers to Sunghoon.

“To make your man jealous and spit out his genuine sentiments in the process, as well as an advantage for me as we get to keep the marriage-minded mothers of the ton at bay. Now, all we have to do is smile, nod, and appear madly in love with each other if this is to work. Is it clear enough for you?” He jerks a brow at her paired with the most charming smirk he could ever expose.

“Crystal.”

*send me an ask or a message if you wish to be added on this series' taglist!

ㅡ © ENHA-WOODZIES, 2021

[kilannad]

Betrayal/Broken Nose

Beau tries very hard not to punch Essek.

This is rather difficult on the best of days and today, with the sky overcast in this shit town that reeks of blood and piss, her skin crawling because Molly had died and she hadn’t done anything to stop it, is not the best of days.

Essek is wearing his usual disguise, which is essentially just him with gold skin and blue eyes instead of his usual purple and violet and has, since the argument yesterday about his goals, been perfectly accommodating. He stayed quiet during the argument (read: screaming match) about rooms, stayed silent during this morning’s debate (read: only slightly quieter screaming match) about teams and has, since they began searching around, stayed silent except to ask a few smooth questions in between Beau’s own gruff demands of the townspeople. He goes a step ahead where she can keep a close eye on him, doesn’t reach for his component bag, and listens to every order she gives him.

She hates it. She wants to start screaming again, to get him to yell back, something. Push his buttons until his calm, collected demeanor snaps like a rubber band.

She wants to punch him.

They’ve just finished threatening their way into information when they stop in an alley for a break, watching the mass of unwashed bodies push themselves around.

Essek stays perfectly quiet.

She loses her patience, turns on her heel, and pops him straight in the nose. There’s a satisfying crunch under her fist that gives the briefest peace to her mind before the whirlwind slams back in.

Essek stumbles back, coughing, snorting out a lump of blood.

He doesn’t say anything.

“Gods damnit, Thelyss, say something!”

“What do you want me to say, Beauregard?” he murmurs, squinting through his streaming eyes and gently rubbing the blood away.

“Anything! Tell me I don’t understand Dynasty culture, or that you’re a loyal citizen. That your Queen will deliver us all to some paradise if we just submit. Give me propaganda, or excuses. Just fucking something that isn’t this bullshit silent submission!”

“You are…upset that I am not…fighting?” He tips his head to the side, honestly puzzled.

She sputters, looking for words, because when he puts it that way it does sound stupid. All she knows that if she was in his position, she’d be giving explanations, fighting for—whatever it is this group has. Had.

Gods above, she is in his position and she fucking hates the comparison.

She’d thought—well, she supposes it doesn’t matter anymore but for a brief moment, between the travel and the heart-pumping, soul-terrifying pursuit of their friends that this group was something that would stay. Something good that she wouldn’t fuck up. That she could maybe, just maybe, learn to trust them.

And then she finds out they have an enemy spy among their numbers, that the very mission she’s on is to turn Essek over and—

Well.

“Do you want to know why I’m not arguing, or pushing my case?” Essek finally says into the quiet between them, spitting out blood. “Because I am not a loyal citizen. I do not even like the Bright Queen very much and there are quite a few parts of my country I would seen burn to the ground if I could. But I am a noble son that has never had any option in his life but to follow his mother’s orders and her orders were to come to this country and spy. I…” He falters, eyes sliding away from hers as his shoulders hunch over. “The Nein were not in my calculations. I did not—I never knew I could make friends. And now—well. I have become very good at accepting my fate. This is just the next step of it.”

She tries to find the lie. Spot the inconsistency. She tries.

She can’t. And that burns. Because—

She knows that story. Knows how it started with a bright child desperate for a parent’s love and a person who chose to be dictator rather than guardian. She knows how he got handed over to some organization to “better serve the family”. Knows he had no choice, that he might have tried to run away and never managed. She knows that story because it’s her own.

And if this is the end awaiting her—

Beau cuts the thought off, for once unwilling to know the truth. Instead, throat burning, chest tight, jaw locked, she turns on her heels and leaves the alley.

Essek follows silently.

[flowesona]

The Moon - Yandere! Jungkook x reader

The Tarot Series

“We can’t ignore reality, (Y/N).” Yoongi sighed, rubbing her back as she sobbed into his chest. “He’s dangerous. Even if the claims haven’t gone to court, you need to stay away from him.”

“He isn’t like that.” The young woman sniffed loudly. “Kookie wouldn’t hurt a fly.”

“Shhh, it’s okay.” With his newly acquired police badge, Yoongi had felt a sudden protectiveness over (Y/N) and her fragile demanour. “Would you like to stay at my apartment tonight? It’s a lot safer.”

She nodded, curling her hand into his with a shy smile as he led her to his car. Yoongi was safe, he could be trusted. Even if her heart was calling out for Jungkook, and he could hear her loud and clear.

(Y/N) settled into the car seat, resting her head in the hopes that she could fall asleep and erase the past twelve hours, from Jungkook arriving home with a split lip and black eye, to Yoongi arriving that morning to show her the police report being filed against her boyfriend and offering her sanctuary.

However, her wishes of a peaceful nap were interrupted by her phone vibrating in her back pocket, and when she peeled her eyes open to see who was calling her she saw her beloved boyfriend’s name in bold print accompanied by the cute heart emoji he’d insisted she added to his contact.

She glanced to the right, seeing Yoongi was still focused on the road, and shakily pressed the accept call on her phone holding it up to her ear. She knew her friend would disapprove, but she wanted to hear from Jungkook, to be told that everything would be fine.

“(Y/N)? Where are you?” The volume on her phone was way too loud, and Jungkook’s voice was heard by Yoongi.

“(Y/N). Hang up the phone.” He said, eyes still on the road but his grip on the steering wheel getting tighter until his knuckles were white. “He’s only trying to get you back. He’s dangerous.”

(Y/N) couldn’t find it in herself to respond, not to her boyfriend on the phone who was continuing to try and converse with her nor to Yoongi.

Thus, Yoongi left his right hand on the steering wheel and used his left to snatch the phone out of her hand and throw it out of the window, hearing the satisfying crunch as it hit the tarmac.

“We can get you a replacement. But for now, not giving him contact with you is of the utmost importance.”

*.·:��.☽✧    ✦    ✧☾.·:·.*

As Yoongi lay awake that night, all that she could think about was Jungkook. Maybe he had been wrong? Jungkook loved (Y/N), that fact could not be disputed. And surely he should trust his friend’s intuition about her own boyfriend?

His stomach growled loudly, having missed out on dinner due to the sick feeling in his stomach. Thus, he crawled out of bed and plodded to the kitchen to find a packet of instant ramen. 

What he found, rather than the snack that was calling his name, was a shadowy figure prying open his window with a crowbar. Upon this sight Yoongi stumbled back in surprise, reaching out to find something he could protect himself with.

The intruder immediately looked up, alarmed. And even in the darkness of the night, his moon-lit features were unmistakable. 

“Jungkook?”

He was frozen in place. But at that point, there was no doubting it was him breaking into the house.

“Min Yoongi.” He swung his body fully through the window, closing it behind him. 

“Get out of my house!” He snapped. “If you’re not back out of that window in the next ten seconds, it is within my jurisdiction as a police officer to arrest you for breaking and entering.”

“We have some serious business. I’m not going anywhere.” Gone was the sweet boy that Yoongi had first been introduced to by (Y/N). This man was intimidating, cold and had a thirst for blood. No doubt, Jungkook was the man who’d assaulted her brother.

“You are not welcome in this home. If you’d like to have a discussion I can take you down to the station first thing tomorrow morning.” Yoongi hissed, keeping his voice low in fear of waking (Y/N) up. 

Jungkook didn’t reply, simply twisting the crowbar around in his hands with a frustrated gaze.

“Where is (Y/N)? She’s not at home. And I’m almost certain that’s due to your intervention.” The young man finally spoke up. “You were with her when I called her, and I want to know where you’ve taken her.”

“You’re a threat to her safety. She’s in a safe place.” Yoongi, in the dark, had managed to find his belt lying haphazardly on the sofa and was drawing the pepper spray and handcuffs out as smoothly and silently as possible.

“Tell me.” Jungkook replied simply. “Tell me, or I will beat your damn brains in Min Yoongi. Don’t test me.”

“Threatening a police officer? Not a smart move, Jeon. Drop your weapon and leave, and we can forget all this.” Yonngi’s heart was pounding, with the fear of what could happen to him, or even (Y/N).

“I don’t think so.” Before Jungkook could attack, he found himself wrestled to the ground, with Yoongi handcuffing his wrists and whispering his rights into his ear.

Jungkook was practically seething, trying to buck Yoongi off of him but finding himself completely immobilised. 

“I can’t wait to see you rot in jail for all you’ve done.” Yoongi said triumphantly, breathing heavily. “We’ll put you under a restraining order so you’ll never see (Y/N) again, you crazy bastard.” 

His words were enough to spark a new rush of energy from Jungkook, adrenaline from the thought of being separated from his beloved (Y/N).

He managed to push Yoongi away and struggle to his feet, thankful that his hands had mistakenly been cuffed in front of him by the newbie cop.

Finding the glass jug on the counter he smashed it into Yoongi’s face, resulting in him letting out a cry of pain and falling back clutching his now bleeding features.

All Jungkook could see was red, the desire to hurt Yoongi for his gross intervention into (Y/N)’s life blinding him to everything else.

*.·:·.☽✧    ✦    ✧☾.·:·.*

Unbeknownst to the intruder, (Y/N) had woken up when she heard Yoongi’s cry of pain and had immediately gotten out of bed and found her phone. God knows if Yoongi couldn;t handle them, (Y/N) had no chance, but first she had to assess the situation. She found her way through the dark hallway to the kitchen door, trying to qualm her fears as she heard more struggling. With no other option, she peeked around the doorway for a second.

Yoongi was on his knees, clutching at his neck. Someone was behind him, using the handcuffs on their wrists to apply more and more pressure. (Y/N) unknowingly let out a gasp, causing both men to notice their audience. With his attacker now in shock, Yoongi quickly removed the cuffs from around his neck and rolled out of the way.

“(Y/N)...?” She could never forget that voice. “(Y/N), baby, I missed you.”

“Jungkook? What are you doing here? And why… why were you just about to kill Yoongi?” 

For a few moments there was silence, intermittent with Yoongi’s heavy breathing as he tried to get his breath back. Jungkook just stared at (Y/N) like a deer caught in headlights, as she tried to process the situation.

“Now do you believe me (Y/N)? Look at him, he’s off his rocker!” Yoongi spat, still breathing heavily.

“If anything he’s the crazy one!” Jungkook shot back, eyes wide to convince (Y/N). “Look, he’s trying to tear us apart! He just doesn’t understand us, he thinks he knows better when ultimately he wants you all to himself.”

The back and forth was making (Y/N)’s head spin. She wanted more than anything to believe in Jungkook with all her heart. He’d been her world for nearly a year. The soft face of the boy who’d taken her out to the lakes to watch the sunset or spent nights curled up with her in bed when the heater broke could not be that of a psychopath surely. Yet she trusted Yoongi, perhaps even more than her own heart.

“Jungkook… you want me to come with you, right?” He cocked his head, a happy grin on his face.

“Come here baby, I’ve missed you so much.” He gestured to her with his cuffed hands. “Let’s go home.”

“But all of my stuff is here! Will you help me pack?” (Y/N) whined, subtly making eye contact with Yoongi as she spoke. Jungkook blushed and nodded.

“Just let me do one last thing.” He delivered a swift kick to Yoongi’s side, the officer doubling over in pain. Jungkook found the keys to his handcuffs and dropped his former bondage besides the cop mockingly before taking her hand. “Lead the way baby. Let’s hurry.”

(Y/N) tried as hard as she could to not give off any signs of what she was planning to do. Jungkook luckily hadn’t caught on to her. He was still running on adrenaline, all of his hope renewed by (Y/N) taking his hand.

“If you start packing your clothes-” As soon as Jungkook’s back was turned, (Y/N) knew she had one chance. To make things right.

She stealthily sought out the thick hardcover book. Whilst the woes of a middle aged woman and her alcoholism hadn’t made for an easy read, the novel was going to prove itself very useful to her. Without hesitation she brought it down on the back on his neck.

Jungkook crashed to the floor, but (Y/N) didn’t hesitate for a second in straddling the obsessive freak and calling out for Yoongi.

It hurt. So much to see the tears dripping down Jungkook’s beautiful face as he was once again restrained, the officer now taking no chances and tightening the cuffs until they dug into his skin. Even with Jungkook’s crestfallen disposition threatening to guilt (Y/N), she wasn’t ready to give in to him. She knew who he truly was.

[livelivefastfree]

have you been working on any new fics?? (your stories are wonderful, ive drowned myself in polyburners thanks to you 😔 its a good place to be)

Not really anything new, although I’ve been picking away at some older ones that I never finished!  Namely the plot-heavy sequel to my telepathic soul-bond superhero AU, the intimidatingly complicated sequel to Save A Horse, Ride A Dragon, and my Burnerswap AU where the villains are all our new Burners and the Burners are villains.

Unfortunately since I’m a nurse work has been kind of stressful recently and also my brain only likes to focus on one thing at a time which is currently original novel things.  So process is pretty slow, haha.  But I’m glad I could bring more people into the polyburners fold!

I do feel bad that I haven’t had the energy to post much for a while; revamping my burnerswap doc is the most recent thing I’ve gotten work done on, so here’s a little bit of scene-setting!

Deluxe is a mass of spires and platforms, shimmering in the sunshine outside Red’s window.  Red stares up at the ceiling, at the pale golden glow of sunlight on the pale polymer.  He can hear the sound of someone loudly imitating an electric guitar, and faint thumps and thuds through the wall; Duke is taking his traditional lengthy shower and using up all their precious hot water.  From the smells drifting up from downstairs, Jacob is already up and in the kitchen experimenting.  Kaia is probably upstairs on the roof, tending to her plants, and Abraham had to go back down to the undercity last night.  His absence is a hole; no sound of him talking to Jacob in the kitchen, working out irritatingly on Red’s balcony, yelling at Duke for using up the water.  There’s always something slightly off, a little bit wrong, when part of their team is missing.

Red sits up, buckles his patch on over the remnant of his left eye, and pushes himself up out of bed to see what’s for breakfast.

Jacob is stirring something in a pan when he Red arrives.  There’s a heaping basket of miscellaneous vegetables on the counter next to him, so probably Red’s in for some kind of veggie abomination this morning—but it’s a veggie abomination Red doesn’t have to make and then burn, and he doesn’t really have a sense of taste anymore, anyway.  Red drops into a chair, and Jacob piles up a plate of fried vegetables and sets it wordlessly down in front of him.

It’s quiet for a while. Red eats as much as he can manage, and Jacob knows him well enough not to frown when Red has to push the plate away half-eaten.  

“Quiet night?” he says, eventually.

“All quiet in the pit,” Red says, and goes to the cooler to fish out a nutrient shake instead.  “No calls from Abraham.  No alerts, no bots, no Dragon.”

“Mm.”  Jacob shakes his head, making an unconvinced grumbling noise.  “They’ll come.  They always do.”

Red can’t argue that. He stayed on the edge of the platform until the small hours of the morning, looking down into the dark city far below, watching every gleam of light and flicker of movement, waiting for the first flash of red glass eyes or matte metal claws.

The others drift downstairs eventually, one at a time; Duke grimaces at the vegetable mess, but Kaia piles in with every sign of enjoyment.  Red sits back and listens to Jacob and Duke bicker, Kaia’s laughing jabs at both of them indiscriminately, and lets the sunlight soften some of the harsh, nauseated fatigue.

He doesn’t realize he’s beginning to drift off, but when his comms light up red with an urgent chime, it startles him badly enough he almost drops his drink.

“Come in,” Abraham’s voice says, flat and low.  “Red.”

“Copy,” says Red, and pushes himself up, already moving. The rest of his team reorders around him, Jacob heading for the garage, Duke and Kaia immediately running for their rooms, their weapons.  Red picks up his gloves, feeling the circuitry inside thrum hotly against his palms. “Incoming?”

“How did you guess,” says Abraham dryly.  “Three Climbers.  Two on North Side, one coming up from the East.  And she’s sending up the Dragon.”

Red falters in mid-step, then growls and heads down the staircase to the garage, taking the steps two at a time. “Can you make it up?”

“I can try,” Abraham says, but Red knows that tone to his voice, rough and grim.  “I think she’s targeting the medical complex on platform 18.  Don’t get distracted.”

“Don’t tell me what to do,” Red says, and Abraham gives a brief bark of a laugh and then cuts the call.

--

Deluxe looks beautiful in the sunlight, if beauty is something to pay attention to; Red has seen it a thousand times, growing up from the old undercity of Detroit like an indescribably huge tree made of silver and marble.  The platforms that make up the city itself look almost fragile from a distance, hovertech and superlight polymers, gleaming with solar panels and greenery.  The massive support structure that holds the city up grows dirtier and more patchwork as it descends into the bristling thicket of ancient, blocky concrete buildings.

Whole civilizations have made their homes on the platforms along that winding trunk.  Around its base, built onto the rooftops of old skyscrapers, Red can see the distant gleam of the Casino King’s sprawling compound, gaudy with red and gold floodlights.  There are urban legends about an entire lost city, one that made its living in among the building-sized struts and cables themselves, before some unspecified calamity cut all communication with them short.

Some of the midway settlements are against Kane, some of them are only indifferent, but Red can only assume that trying to bargain her way through was too much trouble.  Kane took matters into her own hands, and had her R&D invent the Climbers.

Red has eyes on one of them now; a long, low shape, slinking across the platform.  Six-legged, with four glowing eyes each, moving with an unnerving, artificial grace—the mechanical nightmare-offspring of a wolf and some kind of insect.  The tips of their claws hum faintly, lit up—plasma-cutter edges, sharp enough to sink into the polymer like hot knives through butter.  Red is a platform above them, out of their field of vision, but he’s seen the way the things scale vertical surfaces, faster than anything that size should be able to move.

As Red watches, one of them opens its mouth, showing hundreds of needle-sharp fangs lit hellish red from the inside, and lets out an awful, scraping snarl.

“I’ve got eyes on one,” Red says, keeping his voice low.  

“Yeah, yeah, we see ‘em over here too,” Duke says, tight and sharp with bravado.  “Easy.  Let’s get it done!”

“I’ve got your back,” Kaia says.  “Let’s show these things what—”

“Hey, Red,” says a voice, and something taps Red on the shoulder.  “Tag.”

The moment of shock is enough to freeze Red in place for a single fraction of a second, and that’s a hesitation he can’t afford.  A blunt edge slams into his ribs, knocks him over off his feet; he rolls, comes up on his feet again and sends out a blind shockwave of energy—throws himself to one side as a staff sweeps past where his ankles were, and this time when he lashes out he feels the impact strike true.

The Dragon of Detroit takes the hit and lets it bowl him backwards, turns the motion into a back-handspring and comes to a skidding halt, shaking overgrown brown bangs out of his dark eyes.  He’s laughing, smiling as wide and wild as he always does; the deep scar that stretches crookedly from his cheekbone to his chin twists his smile into something just slightly crooked and bitter, but his laugh sounds irritatingly, insultingly genuine.

“Chilton,” Red snarls, and the man spins his staff behind his back and sweeps a bow, grinning.  

“I’m guessing you’re not interested in doing this the easy way, kid,” he says, and Red clenches his fists, lightning crawling up his arms.  “Yeah, I didn’t figure.  Can’t say I didn’t try.”

“The fuck I can’t,” Red snaps, and Chilton huffs out a breath and shakes his head, ever-present smile never fading.  “If you really cared about not hurting anybody you wouldn’t be working for that—”

It’s the flicker of Chilton’s eyes that gives it away, and the faintest sound of scraping metal; Red dives to one side on instinct, just in time to avoid the snap of jagged metal jaws and six sets of wickedly-clawed feet.  He comes up swinging, lands a few solid hits; the Climber shrieks as one of its legs spasms and cracks, red lightning and dented metal grinding in one of its back legs.

“Backup!” Red snaps into his comm, and then there’s only the fight.

He’s being distracted, he knows it even while it’s happening, but he can’t break his focus away long enough to care.  Chilton is gone, he has to be raiding that medical compound, and Red is stuck here, fighting some stupid robot—

“Heads up!” yells a voice, and Red glances up and then back-pedals abruptly as a huge, blocky shape comes rocketing off the next platform up and drops like a comet onto the Climber’s head.  The back half of the bot gives a meaty crunch as Jacob’s construction rig lifts back off of it, leaking nasty, thick, black fluid as it tries to drag itself forward on its two remaining legs; Red steps forward, grimacing in distaste, tears a dented plate away and buries his hand in the things neck to deliver one final, merciless jolt.  The Climber whirrs, gives a gurgling growl, and finally goes still.

“Jumpin’ Josephat,” says Jacob, from inside the clunky, ugly cube he calls a hovercar.  “You still in one piece down there?”

“Where’s Chilton?!” Red says, and then jerks and looks up at the sound of a laugh, echoing off the white walls and walkways around them.  

The Dragon is standing at the very edge of the platform, silhouetted against the sky; he makes eye contact with Red, brief and grinning, one hand on the side of a stolen transport pod. Then he throws off a brief, mocking salute, and launches himself backwards off the edge of the platform into thin air, vanishing over the edge.

“Criminy,” says Jacob weakly, because Jacob is an 80-year-old man in a 20-year-old body.  

“Fuck,” Red hisses, and slams a fist down on the ground, leaving lightning-jagged scorch marks across the white polymer.  Takes a few breaths and repeats, “…fuck,” soft and hoarse, poisonous in his mouth.

“Yeah,” says Jacob, and his boots thump softly as he slides down, his hand settles carefully on Red’s shoulder.  “C’mon. Let’s get back to the others.”

[stilloutofmyvulcanmind]

It Takes Two Part 1

Requested by @verdonafrost (I know it doesn’t seem like what you asked for, but it’ll get there, I promise!)

Pairing: Bruce Wayne x Female!Reader

Characters: Bruce Wayne, Reader, Alfred Pennyworth, Original characters

Word Count: 5.3k

Warnings: Drug deals, arguments, discussion of death, minor violence, threats of assault

Summary: Nearly a year ago you accepted the offer to work with Batman, to train under him, learn from him, be his partner. Yet when a seemingly normal drug bust on Christmas Eve brings memories back from the past, you find that partnership tested to its limits.

Part 1 of 6

Part 2 Part 3

A solid fist to your jaw sent you stumbling backward but failed in its job to knock you down. You grabbed the wrist, moving as you twisted the arm. The other fist came up, aiming at your stomach. You blocked it, using the momentum to swing yourself around, legs hooked around your attacker’s neck, and jerked them to the ground. 

You rolled immediately back to your feet, grinning, believing you'd won. 

A foot swept your legs out from under you then came up with the other, delivering a hard kick to your middle that sent you flying backward. 

You hit the floor hard, the breath knocked out of you. Your attacker was on you in a second, gun pointed at your forehead. 

"Bang. Dead," they growled. "Never presume victory."

You lay panting, glaring up at Bruce. "Got it," you said, batting the hand that was holding the fake gun away. Bruce didn't move though, remaining where he was, keeping you pinned to the training mat. "I'd like to see a crook get up from that beating though."

"Maybe most won't, but there are some out there a lot more dangerous that won't hesitate to kill you." Bruce finally moved, knee leaving your stomach to let you actually catch your breath. He tossed the gun to the side and offered out a hand. 

You refused it, pulling yourself back to your feet instead. “Good thing I have a partner to watch my back then."

Bruce hummed, frowning. He did that a lot. "I wouldn't say partners. You haven't fully earned that mask yet."

Resisting the urge to roll your eyes, you went to grab the water bottle instead. You'd been training with Bruce for months now, and still, he treated you like a child more often than not. Occasionally you regretted your decision to take him up on his offer to take you under his wing and train you properly, thinking that maybe it would've been better to just continue by yourself. But even though he was as tough as it got, the training had made you a better vigilante, and the new kevlar suit he'd had made for you was definitely an improvement. Both design and safety-wise. Plus it was just easier to work with the Batman than against him. You'd learned that the hard way. 

"So what now? Another round?" 

Bruce nodded as he picked up the fake gun again and took his position in the center of the mat. 

You were just about to join him when Alfred appeared in the room. "Sir, the Batsignal."

Bruce dropped the gun and looked at you, "Suit up."

~

You landed silently on the roof behind Bruce, your cape billowing gently behind you. You'd been doubtful when he'd first suggested one, but you'd come to like the steady warmth of it on your shoulders especially in Gotham's harsh winter. 

Gordon was on the other side of the roof, back facing the both of you as he looked out over Gotham. 

"Gordon," Bruce greeted, voice coming out deep and gravely due to the voice modulator. 

"Jesus!" He cursed jumping and turning around. "D'you think one day you could do that without giving me a heart attack?!" 

Bruce said nothing, just walked forward into the light more with you shadowing him. "What is it?"

"Straight to the point it is then,"  Gordon muttered, glancing over Bruce's shoulder at you and nodding in greeting. He flicked the rest of his cigarette to the ground, letting it fizzle out in the snow. "We just got a tip that there's a drug deal going down at the docks tonight. I'd have sent some of my guys but what with the holiday we're already understaffed."

Bruce nodded, "We'll deal with it."

"Thanks. I appreciate it."

Bruce turned, giving you a look that meant follow, and jumped off the edge of the building. 

~

The tip-off was accurate. The warehouse Gordon had sent you too was crawling with armed goons patrolling the perimeter. 

"How did we not catch wind of this?" You whispered from where you were perched in the shadows next to Bruce. 

"We'll figure that out later. First, we stop it. Surveillance shows fifteen men outside, and another ten inside. I'll take the North-East, you the South-West and meet on the roof."

You nodded, "Got it."

The goons didn't stand a chance. Not one noticed you swoop in and take them down one by one quick and quiet. Not a peep came from Bruce's area either, not that you'd expected him to be spotted. 

You grappled to the roof, landing silently a second before Bruce, boots crunching softly in the undisturbed snow. You exchanged a look and Bruce motioned to a small panel. A vent. He made quick work of getting it loose, and you followed him, dropping down and keeping your footsteps soft against the metal as you landed. Bruce had already undone the cover on the inside and crept out onto the rafters. Joining him, you found a vantage point to spy on the people below. 

"Boss said to flog the green stuff first, keep the prices low 'til the kids get hooked, then sell 'em the blue pills. Better high, better price." One man said, talking to the others surrounding him.

"What's the deal when they can't pay?" 

"Tell 'em they owe you a favor. Boss'll call it in soon enough."

Your hand balled into a fist on instinct at the conversation. Selling drugs to kids was bad enough, but you also knew that the 'favors' owed would likely end badly, that the poor kid in debt would be more than expendable. 

Glancing over at Bruce, he was still looking down, observing. The moment they started to distribute the drugs, he pounced. 

The smoke grenade landed smack in the middle, with both of you following immediately behind it. The first time you'd tried to fight in the smoke it had ended with Bruce taking you down immediately, but now you moved through the dense cloud with practiced ease, finding your targets and eliminating them from the fight. 

Despite Bruce's insistence that you weren't partners yet, the two of you worked together near flawlessly. You were in-sync, knowing what the other was going to do before they did it. One tried to swing at you as you were fighting another, flailing near blind in the smoke but still coming close enough to land the hit. You swerved to the right, and the attacker was instead met by Bruce’s fist in his face. Another attempted to lurch at Bruce with a knife. In a second the knife was clattering across the concrete floor, and the crack of a bone-breaking filled the air. 

The smoke began to clear and in the corner of your eye, you saw a masked goon grab a gun and aim it at Bruce. Without even needing to think, you threw one of your batarangs, the metal slicing through the air until it embedded itself in the man’s hand before he could even get his finger on the trigger. The gun dropped to the floor and you kicked it to one side before taking him down.

Straightening out, you looked around. Only the two of you were left standing.

“Good work,” Bruce said, and you had to resist the urge of fake fainting. 

You simply nodded instead and turned to start securing the perps while Bruce contacted Gordon. It was a simple process until the sleeves of one of the crooks rose up exposing his wrist and the tattoo on it. 

The small symbol, a dagger through a rose, turned your blood to ice. It had been years since you'd last seen it, but the image was scarred into your memory forever. 

"I know who's behind this."

~

"Curt Roman? No, It's impossible."

You were standing in front of the Batcomputer with Bruce and Alfred, looking at several photos of a businessman. 

"Bruce, it's him."

"I know Curt, he's a friend. He's donated hundreds of thousands to Wayne Foundation programs."

"And no one who does good could possibly have a secret?" 

Bruce gave you a look. "He also has no criminal connections. Or a tattoo of a dagger through a rose."

"Of course he doesn't! He's being clever! Doesn't make him innocent!" 

"Certainly doesn't make him guilty!" Bruce turned to face you, arms crossed over his chest. "What evidence do you have?" 

"I don't have any. I just know it's him!" 

"Not good enough." The words came out in a growl, and it was tough not to wilt away under the intensity of the glare. There weren't many people who could staredown Batman, but you were damned sure you were going to be one of them. 

"It's. Him. Trust me."

"Give me proof and I'll consider it. Until then we're going to focus on what we actually know; that a gang baring this symbol is trying to flood the streets with drugs. Finding out who they are is more important than a wild goose chase."

"It's not-" 

"Enough! Go home, Y/N."

"You're benching me?!" 

"No. I'm giving you a chance to re-evaluate and come back with a clear head."

You wanted to argue. You were pissed and he was brushing you off. But he was also adamant, and arguing would be like talking to a brick wall. 

"Fine."

"Good. Be here tomorrow for patrol."

You turned and stalked your way to the back of the cave where you could change back into your civilian clothes in peace. So maybe you tossed the discarded pieces of armor to the floor a little harder than was necessary, you didn't really care. You hated that Bruce didn't believe you, thinking that by now you'd at least earned some trust. And it wasn't like he never went on gut instinct. He often followed it until he found tangible evidence. But it seemed he valued his rich friend over your thoughts. 

You looked down at the suit once you were done, and started to pick it up. You were mad at Bruce, not Alfred, and you weren't going to let him clean up your mess. 

Like he knew you were thinking about him, Alfred appeared, hands clasped behind his back. "Are you okay, Miss Y/N? Master Bruce can be a bit too brusque sometimes."

Chuckling softly, you nodded. "I'm fine, Alfred, it's nothing I've not handled before."

"He can be quite protective of his friends."

You decided not to say how you thought you were his friend too. 

"So it seems." Busying yourself with putting the suit back in its case properly, you hoped Alfred would drop the subject. 

Thankfully, he did. "Before you leave, are you sure you don't wish to join us for Christmas lunch? There will be more than enough, and as they say, the more the merrier."

"They also say three's a crowd." Facing Alfred again you smiled. "Thank you, I appreciate the offer, really, but I do have plans."

Alfred watched you a moment, looking to see if you were telling the truth no doubt, and for a second you could've sworn he looked disappointed when he saw you were. "In that case, take this." He brought his hands forward, showing you the wrapped gift he'd had hidden behind him. "It's from both of us."

Meaning it was from Alfred, but Bruce had forgotten. 

You took the gift, feeling the weight of it in your hands. It had give to it, so probably a sweater or some other item of clothing. Whatever it was, you had no doubt that it would be gorgeous. You slipped the item into your bag carefully, and kissed Alfred's cheek, feeling him smile. "I've left gifts for you and Bruce under the tree."

"Quite stealthy of you, miss. Merry Christmas."

"Merry Christmas, Alfred."

~

The present was a sweater. A deep red cable-knit sweater that was almost too soft to be real. It was beautiful and warm and comfy, and Alfred definitely knew you well. 

You wore it to lunch, laughing when the young girl that launched herself at you at the door commented on how soft it was. 

"Wow, Wayne really goes all out for his employees, huh?" Chloe, the girl's mom said, hugging you in return. 

"Not like he can't afford it." It wasn't a lie really. You had started to work for Bruce since you'd started 'working' with him, and he was a good enough boss to make sure everyone received a nice gift. Just maybe not that nice. 

"True enough."  She laughed, "Merry Christmas."

"Merry Christmas."

"Aunt Y/N! Come see what Santa brought me!" Mollie tugged at your hand, pulling you away from Chloe and over to the tree where a pile of presents sat. She started showing you each one, going on about it excitedly and making you look every individual item over before moving to the next one. 

Glancing over your shoulder, Chloe was watching you both. She mouthed a 'thank you' and you smiled. You'd do anything for either of them. Including making sure Mollie had the best Christmas possible. 

You helped Chloe make lunch while Mollie played and watched some dumb Christmas movie, and for a couple of hours, everything was perfect. Until you'd just finished clearing up and there was a knock on the door. 

Mollie ran to answer. "Hell-ah!" Her yell had you spinning away from the sink, blood running cold as four masked men barged into the apartment. One had Mollie in his arms, pistol aimed at her head. 

"Stay calm and no one gets it." Another said while the two remaining crooks aimed their guns at you and Chloe. 

"Mommy!" 

"Shut up!" The man holding her growled, pressing the barrel firmer to her temple. 

The first one to speak and one of the others started grabbing everything and shoving it into bags, the fourth keeping you and Chloe trapped in the kitchenette with his gun trained on you. 

"These two're pretty, boss. Whatcha say abou' lettin' us 'ave a little Christmas treat?" 

Chloe shuddered next to you, sniffing quietly. 

"Don't see why not. We can spare a few minutes."

Like hell that was going to happen. 

You glanced down at the counter, weighing up your options. If you were suited it'd be easier to mount an attack, but as it was there was next to nothing separating you from their bullets. 

There was a knife in the dish rack to your left, sharp enough to do some damage. To your right were some ingredients that had yet to be put away. Flour. It could cause enough distraction. 

With one hand you pushed Chloe to the floor in the same instant as you tossed the knife across the room. It hit the guy holding Mollie square on the hand gripping the gun. He yelled, the gun dropping and his grasp on Mollie loosening. The girl reacted, jerking herself loose and dropping to the floor. 

There was no time to make sure she was hidden. You grabbed the flour, tossing it over the man in front of you before he even knew what was happening. You caught the gun, wrenching it from him and tossing it aside. Using his body and the momentum, you shoved him forward, barging him into the other two. 

A gunshot rang out, the bullet flying past your ear. You pushed the one you were holding hard against another, letting him go in favor of taking down the last one steady on his feet. Another shot and you felt the pain in your leg. A quick glance down saw blood on your thigh. Just a graze it seemed. 

You moved again, disarming the one with the gun, a swift blow to the head with the butt of it knocking him down. The third went down seconds later. The only one left conscious was the one who'd grabbed Mollie. He was on his knees, knife still through his hand apparently not even taking notice of everything else. 

Not taking the chance, you jumped over the table, and in a moment he was slumped on the floor with his associates. 

You stood over him, panting. Sirens could already be heard in the distance, getting closer rapidly. You turned, facing back to the inside of the apartment. Your eyes landed on Mollie, hiding under the table. You opened your arms and she came bolting out, all but jumping into your arms as she clung to you. 

"It's okay," you whispered, "Are you hurt?" 

She shook her head and you sighed in relief. "Good girl. You're safe now." Another set of arms wrapped around you. Chloe. "You okay?"

"Yeah. Y/N…thank you."

"I promised I'd look out for you, and I meant it."

Footsteps were approaching rapidly, and the three of you were still hugging when the police burst in, guns drawn. 

This was going to be interesting to explain. 

~

"Miss Y/N, are you alright?" Alfred asked the moment you stepped foot in the cave. 

You shouldn't have been surprised, but you'd still hoped to avoid the conversation immediately. You smiled and nodded, "It was just a scratch. I've had worse."

"You were lucky," Bruce spoke from his seat at the computer, already suited up. "And foolish."

Biting back a sigh, you crossed your arms over your chest. "I suppose you would've done differently?" 

"I wouldn't have risked too many questions being asked by showing off."

"No one asked too many questions. They barely even asked any questions at all. You seem to forget that I'm from a part of town where it's perfectly common for people to know how to scrap."

"Oh, so you come across regular citizens disarming four armed robbers often, then?" 

"Not unheard of." Not wanting to argue anymore, you turned and walked away, heading to get changed and ready to go out. 

The two of you went your own separate ways on patrol, sticking to your designated areas, and only communicated when necessary over the coms. Bruce thankfully kept any further comments to himself, only speaking when necessary for the job. 

It was a surprisingly quiet night. You'd expected worse since half the police force was off with their families. It seemed even the crooks wanted to take Christmas off. 

You got back to the cave tired and cold, but not entirely unhappy. Being out in Gotham at night was surprisingly relaxing, especially when it was quieter. 

"We need to talk." There went your good mood. 

"About?" 

"Today. If anything like that ever happens again, wait it out."

"So I was supposed to just stand by and watch as they robbed the place?!" 

"We could've tracked them down tonight."

"Yeah, that would've been real easy. Track down four amateurs who just picked the joint at random. Come on, Bruce, we both know that would've been a needle in a haystack!" 

"It would still be a better option than risking yourself!" 

"It's exactly what you would've done in that situation!" 

"I'd have kept my head, and not needlessly risked my own safety if there was no risk of any harm actually happening."

You scoffed, shaking your head. Liar. "They had a gun to a child's head! I don't care if they weren't planning on shooting, the threat was enough!" 

Bruce's jaw clenched. Apparently, he didn't know that. "You could've been killed."

"Worse things would've happened if I hadn't risked it." Bruce frowned, clearly not understanding. "They weren't planning on just leaving once they got the goods. They were going to stay for a little Christmas treat." 

Now he got it. 

"So don't stand there and tell me how I should've waited it out! For once get off your god damned high horse, and stop acting like I don't know what I'm doing! I know, Bruce. I know I could've been hurt or killed, that it was dangerous. Trust me, it wasn't my ideal way to spend Christmas day either. But I'm not apologizing for it. I'm not going to say sorry for protecting an innocent woman and her child, even if it had ended with me going down!" 

"Y/N-"

"I'm going home. I've had enough of being treated like a child for one night." Turning sharply, you stomped away, not failing to notice how the night had ended this way twice in a row now. 

You did love working with Bruce. Hell, you were fond of him in general, but he was infuriating recently. Maybe the two of you were just incompatible as a team. You wanted equal footing, but it always seemed that Bruce wanted someone to give orders to. And it wasn't like you weren't fine with listening to him. He had the experience. But when it came to the point that he was trying to order you about for every little thing? That was too much. 

You were midway through stripping when you heard the footsteps approach the secluded changing area. They were too heavy to be Alfred's, and much louder than Bruce usually was, which meant he was purposely giving you a heads up. 

You didn't stop. You'd been semi-nude around each other enough times over the last few months that it had long stopped being an issue. You finished taking off the outer suit and started removing the thinner layer underneath until you were down to the shorts and vest. 

"Does it hurt?" 

You glanced down at the bandage around your thigh. It had been hours since you'd taken pain meds. "It's fine."

Bruce moved to stand next to you, starting to pull off his own armor. "Are you okay? In general."

"I'm fine." You moved away from him, tugging your jeans and sweater back on. 

"If you keep saying that, it might start sounding believable."

"Didn't think you cared much either way."

There was a long pause, and yeah, maybe that was a bit of a low blow. "Of course I care, Y/N." His voice was soft enough that you were almost inclined to believe him. "What we do is dangerous, and I don't want to see you get hurt unnecessarily. But you were right in what you did today. It is what I would've done."

That was probably as close to an apology as you were going to get. "I don't need you to babysit me, Bruce." You sat heavily on one of the benches lining the wall and looked at him. "I've been through more than even you know, more out of the mask than under it."

Bruce pulled a t-shirt over his head and frowned as he walked his way over to sit next to you. "Y/N-" 

You shook your head, "I'm tired, Bruce. I don't want to argue anymore."

"I don't want to argue. I was just going to ask if you were okay again."

Oh. "Yeah," you sighed, "It's just been a day."

Bruce nodded, "Are they alright? The others?" 

"Terrified, but not hurt. Wanted me to stay with them tonight, but I put them up in my place for the night instead." You'd been looking down at your hands, but glanced up at Bruce as you smiled, "They also kinda hate you now. I told them you had me working."

Bruce chuckled, "Thanks." He fell quiet and you didn't have the energy to muster up any small talk either. You were about to get up and leave when he spoke again. "Who are they? I saw the names on the report, and I know they aren't family."

"It's…complicated. I promised someone once that I'd look out for them."

"Someone who isn't around anymore I take it?" 

"Yeah."

"You were close."

"Something like that."

"I'm sorry."

"It was a long time ago."

"With some things, it doesn't matter how much time passes, it continues to hurt."

"Yeah."

"What happened?" 

"It's a long story."

"I've got nothing better to do."

"Would've thought Bruce Wayne would be busy making the most of what's rest of his Christmas night. There must be parties going on still."

"Great. Rooms teeming with people who've had too much to drink and no longer know about personal space. My favorite."

“So you’d rather be here and share feelings? It’s a Christmas Miracle!”

“You’re deflecting.”

“I am. Surprisingly, I didn’t learn that from you.”

“Okay, so I’m not the best sharer. That doesn’t mean you should practice the same habits. I’m here to listen, Y/N.”

You sighed, fingers playing with the hem of your sweater as you debated just getting up and leaving anyway. That’s what a part of you wanted. But the other part wanted to open up. And Bruce was probably the only person you could trust enough to do so. If you got lucky it might even change his opinion on some things.

“His name was Dean. Grew up together. Same building. Same classes. Spent as much time in the other’s apartment as we did our own. Best friends. First dance. First date. First kiss.”

“First love?”

“First love. We didn’t exactly have it easy, but we were doing good for ourselves. Got into college and everything, and that was pretty rare for kids like us back then. There was an old warehouse nearby, abandoned. We used to sneak in and hang out there. About the only time, we actually got some peace and quiet for ourselves. We could stay there for hours, just sitting and...being with each other. No talk, no pretense. Just us. The night we found out we’d gotten into college, we went. It was late. Closer to the next day really. Didn’t matter. Not to us. I don’t know how long we sat there. We talked about dreams, the future, our future, everything two hopeful kids could talk about. It was perfect.”

Pausing a moment, you closed your eyes. “Then men came in. Six men. We were near the back so they didn’t see us immediately, and too busy making sure it was clear outside to notice us scrabble to hide. There were some beams in there, old, surprising they were still standing. We managed to hide behind them. One each. I thought maybe at first they were the owners of the place. Maybe someone had bought it and was checking it out, or something. But then they started to talk, and it was clear that if they did own it, they weren’t planning on doing anything legal.”

“Drugs mostly. How and where they were going to distribute it, you know the deal. We’ve heard it enough times. But one of them went on about something else. About leaving the country for a few years. He was their boss by the sounds of it, and he said that if he wasn't around suspicion would lay off him and that was what he wanted. It…was terrifying. We knew this shit was going on, but to actually listen to plans being made? We were out of our depth. I remember thinking that we just had to keep calm. Hide and wait it out then run and try and decide what to do. So simple in theory."

"Dean must've been leaning on the beam or something, I don't really know. But it creaked. Loudly. Or it seemed loud. They were on alert in a second. They found him. Dragged him out. I don't know how they didn't see me."

"They beat him. He told them what he heard, swore he'd never utter a word, but they beat him anyway. Couldn't really see much from where I was, but I could hear the hits, hear him cry. And then…then the boss ordered another to shoot Dean. Kill him. Said they couldn't risk him going to the cops. I couldn't see Dean, but I saw the gun. I watched it fire and I heard him drop. And they just left him there. They left him and walked out. Said no one would give a shit."

"I ran to him as soon as they were gone. He was still alive. Barely. His shirt was soaked and he was bleeding so fast. I didn't know what to do. He was scared. Knew he was dying. And he asked me to take care of his sister. I told him I wouldn't need to, that he'd be there, but he made me swear. Made me swear that I would and I did. He told me to go then. To get out before the cops showed up to investigate the gunshot."

"And I did. I ran. And I didn't stop running until I was home and locked away and scrubbing the blood off my hands until it hurt. I left him to die. Alone. Because I was scared. What's worse is that I let them get away with it because I was scared. Because I was too much of a coward to say anything. I let the cops brush it off, say Dean just got in with the wrong crowd, and drop the investigation. I just��made sure his sister was okay. Made sure his niece was okay. And…never said a word to anyone. Until now."

You stopped, taking a shuddering breath. Your leg was trembling, knee bouncing, your hands balled into fists so tightly your nails were close to breaking the skin of your palm. Bruce was quiet, but you couldn't bring yourself to look at him and see what he was thinking. He was probably getting ready to tell you how you should've been braver. How you should've stopped them or helped the police, or done something other than run and hide. 

Then his hand was taking yours, prying your fingers so he could slip his own under them. "You weren't a coward."

"I ran. Pretty sure that makes me a coward."

"It makes you smart. You were a kid, Y/N. A kid with no training. If you'd tried to do anything they would've killed you. And going to the cops with accusations like that would've gotten you killed too. You did what you had to to survive, and there's nothing wrong with that."

"Thank you." It didn't particularly change the guilt, but finally telling someone did feel like a relief, and Bruce saying you were right did mean a lot. 

"Of course. Do you have any idea who they were? If they're still around? We can take them down." 

You hesitated and nodded. "Yeah, I have an idea. The man with the gun. I saw his wrist. He had a tattoo." You met Bruce's eyes. "Of a dagger stabbing a rose."

"That's how you knew them. What else?" 

"Not much. It wasn't much to go on, so I left it alone. For years. Just focused on Chloe and Mollie. Then one day, a couple of years ago, I was doing some laundry, had the TV on in the background. Some announcement for a new charity in Gotham. I was only half listening. The founder came on to give a speech. The moment he spoke…I was back in that warehouse all over again. It was exactly the same. It was him. The one who gave the order. The one who disappeared. The one who was now back."

"Y/N, are you saying… "

"It was Curt Roman, Bruce. He was the one giving orders in the warehouse."

Bruce looked surprisingly shocked. "You're sure? It was years…"

"I heard that voice in my dreams every night for years. I'm sure. And I looked into it. He left for Europe days after."

"This is why you started doing this."

"Yeah. I had…some more to go on, and I…I just couldn't let him get away with it again."

Bruce nodded but was silent. You thought maybe he was going to insist you were wrong. That it must be someone else. The trauma of the night must've messed with your memory. He'd be wrong, of course, but you weren't prepared to argue the point anymore. If he wouldn't believe you, you'd take Roman down by yourself one way or another. 

"Then let's get him. Together."

That you weren't expecting. "You believe me?" 

"I do. If you say he was there, that he's involved, then he is."

You smiled. Bruce returned it. "Thank you, Bruce."

"We're going to bring him to justice, Y/N. I promise."

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Catalyst

a Prequel to the Nanny Affair

Chapter 1: Acquiesce

Before she ever noticed his alluring dark eyes...

Before he ever caressed her dangerous curves...

Before she ever tasted his intoxicating lips...

Before he ever nibbled on her delicate skin...

Before she became the nanny to his family...

Before he fell in love with her...

Brynn Schuyler was struggling to dust herself clean from her recent fall from glory when she finds herself in the prestigious office of the CMO at Dalton Enterprises. // Sam Dalton was slowly losing his grip of the control in his life-- all in the name money-- when an interview for a nanny threatened to change his life forever.

What happens next is your choice to make; but for now, I choose to share what possibly could have happened before 'The Nanny Affair'.

***Some of the characters, plots, and dialogue in the story are not mine, but rather the property of Pixelberry; this is not their vision of how the story unfolds, rather a creative interpretation between the sheets... I mean, scenes. Chances are that I will accidentally deviate from the original canon; I will edit when absolutely necessary. Please enjoy!

Rating: 18+ (Mature audiences only)

Word count: 1023

Warning: language

Catalyst Masterlist

"Sam," she clears her throat, finally breaking the silence, "I--I just think this is for the best. For us both... For all of us--" she delicately places her petite hand on his arm, attempting to add more sentiment to her words.  "--even our boys!" spills out of her crimson-stained lips like a bad punch-line.

The best? For 'our boys'? Is she taking this decision seriously?

He barely twitches the sides of his mouth into a smile, but his dimples are always ready to entertain. His chestnut eyes have flecks of amber that boast the power to melt even the coldest of hearts--possibly his secret weapon for his monstrous success as the chief marketing officer at Dalton Enterprises. Yet tonight they possess a mourning as they stare at the newly-introduced elephant in the room: a 5.5 carat emerald-cut Harry Winston diamond ring. Discarded, lacking luster.

Do I pick it up? Do I insist that it's hers for keeps?

"Maybe we should prepare a statement," She revs up again. He raises an eyebrow with curiosity. "Before the press catches wind of this, you know? Have the upper hand." Sam remains quiet, mindlessly nudging a wayward caper with a fork on his empty dinner plate.

As conflicted as he is mentally about the recent update to their relationship status, she has a valid point.  Sam was fast-tracked to the public eye back in 2017 when he was voted as one of the 'Top 35 to Watch Under 35" in Forbes Magazine. He was initially proud to receive the national recognition for his hard work in growing his father's company. But, having his chiseled, handsome physique along with several indiscretions committed by close friends and family, the tabloids were incessant. Paparazzi had become a normal part of life.

He bobs his head slowly in agreement before his gaze fixates on her beauty. He inadvertently chews on his bottom lip, carefully discerning his words as to not cause another argument over this arrangement. He exhales a long, drawn-out sigh, making the candlelight furiously dance.

He clears his throat: "I think--"

"Oh!" she exclaims, clapping her hands in glee. "Did you see Daddy's email with the numbers?"

Are you kidding me right now?

He rakes his hands across his face; a grunt escapes deep in his throat.

Please. Not here.

That doesn't stop her. "With the merger? If you reallocate 25% of the assets to marketing with the given trend, the revenue after one year--" she dramatically pauses, scoffing with dollar signs in her eyes.

Yes, we know. We know. It's more money than we made in the past 4 years. Why is it about money again? Always about the fucking money… This is more than a business transaction--we are more than a business transaction.

Her father, the president and CEO of his own multi-billion-dollar company, is a boisterous, ornery man; but then again, when your specialty is making the Benjamin's--and Paolo was damn good at it--you can act like a complete jerk, and it's called being a 'good businessman'.  Impossible to please, impossible to impress; he might actually lack the facial structure to express any type of emotion. He was a real treasure to the business world, but an absolute abusive nightmare behind closed doors.

Sam had a difficult time considering a marriage with her family; he already had enough demons reminding him he wasn't good enough. But somehow, Sam charmed 'Daddy' with his work ethic and ability to create and deliver money-making deals.

With only one immature, trouble-maker for a son, a self-proclaimed 'playboy,' naturally, everyone assumed that Paolo would leave the company to his oldest child--his daughter. But her marriage to Sam complicated his choice, not to mention Paolo's ancient, chauvinistic worldviews of women working outside of the home. The fate of his company teetered between matters of the heart--and that which mattered to his heart: money.

If he still wants this merger-- shit, if I still want this merger… is it worth my marriage? My heart? My friend?

"Do you think we should talk about, you know? Relocating your belongings? Our housing situation?"  Her words are suffocating.

Is it getting warm in here? The heater. Surely someone has turned on the heater--Jesus, Sam. Get. A. Grip. She is only talking about your home that you built--Oh God, water.

"The sooner we have a decision and a time frame--" She trails off. Maybe she was nervous; maybe she finally took notice to him panicking. She quickly downs the rest of her vintage Pontet-Canet as she watches a rosy-cheeked Sam pour water from a nearby glass carafe.

Bzzt. Bzzt. Bzzt.

The intense, awkward interaction is interrupted by his phone. It was normally turned off during dinner, but with the boys at home with the new nanny and the company being on the cusps of the Martindale agreement, his bluetooth earpiece wisely became a new appendage to his body

She pretends to inspect the diamond ring she had ejected onto the table earlier in the evening, but he knows better. She shifts her eyes, straining to see his caller ID. He sees the eyeroll, the hair flip. He hears the obvious sigh of annoyance when he answers the call.

"Hey, Kelli. Is everything okay? Whoa, whoa, whoa--slow down. He did--He did what now?"

Damnit, Mickey.

Sam pinches the bridge of nose, the exchange continuing. "Yes. Yes. I understand--completely understand. I don't know how to get chocolate out of cashmere either. Oh! Present from your grandmother--oh. Your dead grandmother."

She crunches up her eyebrows with shocking disgust and a large sigh as she begins to call Carter, the family driver. The evening was already over--truth be told, they should have left when she gave him the ring back.

After ending the call, Sam stands, extending his hand to assist her back onto her Louboutin stilts. A smile crawls across his face when he notices that she has taken the ring back; that is the most he could hope for right now. Maybe one day, hopefully someday soon, she would be proud to wear it.

Maybe she would even love him. He hopes he can learn to love again, too.

@choicesficwriterscreations

[savnofilter]

Hello! How are you doing? I really like your bnha fics. I wonder if you could write a fic in which there is a STRICT 'NO LOVE ALLOWED' rule in UA. And couples must be very careful or else they'll be punished or something if caught. (S/o) loves Bakugo but there is no way she could break the rules because she is a goddy two shoes. But if Bakugo wants something he gets it. Probably some NSFW at the end. Thank you😉

Bakugou x Reader

warnings: semi-public, dub-con, reader & bakugou need to settle some stuff, smug bakugou, passive aggressive bakugou, reader might secretly by a pathological liar when around katsuki until she confesses her feelings, #spoiler.

a/n: a chance to write a smug as shit bakugou? yea im not passin this up. something different, so if you guys want my other idea just say so. ; ) also, this is a long one,,,, lemme tell you that much. thank you anon!

You could feel his heated gaze burning the back your head. You shift in your seat, biting your lip trying to focus on your English teacher. Your brain tries to shake off the memories from a few days before. The lingered touches were tugging at your roots, tickling your skin. You shift in your shift in your seat, getting the familiar feel-good goosebumps ghosting your skin and the whisper of his breath all over your body.

What were you even thinking about?

Katsuki Bakugou.

The hot-headed ash-blonde that sinfully caught your heart over the course of your time at U.A. Not that anyone knew anyways. To keep the strongest future heroes at the top, U.A. wanted to make sure you guys were focused no matter what. Welcome to U.A strict no love rule. You’re rewarded for focus if you didn’t indulge in “taboo acts” such as, having feelings for another person. Punishment for acting on simple urges results in over the board punishments, which was way too long to explain and list. (We’ll leave it to the imagination for now.)

It was simple for you to follow the rules, usually. But like explained before, you were in quite a dilemma. You wouldn’t say you were as strict as your class president, but you just couldn’t help yourself this time. You don’t even know how you got yourself all caught up with the boy in the first place. 

You always reprimanded him for being so disrespectful, never approved of his brash behaviour until he changed his rude behaviour into one of teasing and persuasion. You wouldn’t couldn’t believe him when he confessed his feelings to you. His whole 360 threw you into a loop and somehow you were putty in his hands. Your goody too shoe nature with your mesmerizing personality earned you the nickname “Princess”, which was fairly innocent when other people called you it versus how Katsuki whispered it in your ear without you expecting it.

The butterflies in your stomach were getting stronger, the urge to smile like an idiot itching to crawl onto your face. Not only did he know you inside out, he treated you right which you had never expected. The feelings you held for him made you want to scream out in how in love you were with him, how nice it felt for him to embrace you-

You jump from the schools bell and quickly start gathering up your things. You’re already giddy, hoping to see Katsuki un-ironically. You pace is slow to your dorms as you already know that students would be eager to leave school to feel his arms around you again. 

But you, against the rules? You shant. 

But you needed to.

You see the blonde in your peripheral vision and quickly change your slow pace to one of hurry. You bite your lip, knowing that whatever was happening wasn’t going to end well.

Bakugou watched in delight, watching the bounce of your body. His smirk never left his face as he watched you peak from over your shoulder once in awhile to keep an eye on him, knowing that he wasn’t going to stop until he got what he wanted.

The very thought sent shivers down your spine and you took a deep breath when you managed to make it to the dorms. Unknown to you, the teen hot on your trail was ready to take action. You try to stay calm as you wait at the elevator, hoping, praying, wishing that’ll you make it your room in one piece. But sadly none of those affirmations made it to the heavens. You softly gasp feeling a familiar body press into your back, the warm smell of burnt-caramel filling your senses. It takes all of you not to melt into his mesmerizing aura. You feel his knuckles brush the back of your thigh, slowly rising your skirt higher.

Inch, by inch, by inch.

Your clouded head refocuses hearing the familiar ding bring you back to reality. You walk in, brushing off his hot touches. Which you knew made no sense since you guys were going to the same place anyways. You stand near the wall as you click the button and await for him to enter hoping this goes fast so you don’t succumb to your darkest needs. 

Your heart jumped when the doors closed and it was only you two in the small enclosed space. You heard shuffling behind you, no where in specific. You kept your eyes trained on the floor, unknown to you what he was doing. The sound of an explosion and the sound of crunching metal was enough to make you turn around. Your face was written with shock watching as the blonde smirked and watched down at you.

“Katsuki!” You shame him, immediately trying to think of ways to excuse why he did such a thing, how he’ll make it up, the cost to replace the thing – and why he just clicked the emergency stop button. You furrow your brows as he backs you into the corner, his mischievous face twisting into one of smugness, yet no smile graced his face. He towers over you with his large statue, arms caging you in so there was no escape.

“You don’t think you act coy forever, can you?

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Lies.

“I know can make you scream more ways than one.”

“Y-You don’t know what you’re talking about!”

Lies.

“I know you love me.”

“I was lying.” His hand was quick to wrap its way around your neck making you croak for air.

“How long are you going to keep lying (Y/N)?” He taunts, loosening his grip on your throat to hear your squeak as he presses his body flush against yours. “Huh? You can’t keep teasing me like this,” He continues, his hand that was occupied on your neck snakes to the nape of your neck then to grab your hair in a tight grip making you tilt your head back to look up at his eyes. “I’ll just ravish you.” He whispers against your lips. You whimper as his lips meet you in a condescendingly innocent kiss, his mouth swallowing all your whimpers and complaints. He pulls away with your heavy breathing against his lips.

“Katsuki…” You whine clutching his shirt with your small hands. He growls looking down at your blushing, already worked up wondering how he could how long can he old out for so long. “I-I can’t Katsuki..” You reason, more for yourself than for him. His chuckle sends a shiver down your spine as his other hand that was leaning against the wall was now inching up your thigh again.

Inch, by inch, by inch.

His burning touch leaves a lingering feeling on your thighs, to the skin of your hips, finally finding its rightful place palming your sex. You gasp at the feeling his warm touch against your sopping underwear. He tuts rubbing the damp material against your aching cunt. Your grip intensifies on his shirt when he grips your underwear to tug it against your clit. He leans down past your lips and starts marking up your neck much to your dismay if you were going to let this happen at least leave no evidence! He groans when you mewl in response to him moving your underwear to the side, allowing him to slip two fingers into you. 

“I would ask if you were enjoying yourself, but we both know you’ll lie.” He mocks, before digging his teeth into your neck. His thrusting of his fingers were making you too weak to function, your knees were about to give out if he kept on defiling your body like this. “I bet you just want to rile me up, huh? Make me want to fuck you like I did last time when you were a virgin. Ready to be such a slut just for me.” He remembers, his hot breath hitting your neck, the air making some spots cool in the areas he hadn’t graced with his lips yet. “I remember just like it was yesterday, Princess. Remember?” Of course you did, it never left your mind. The night he took your virginity and secretly placed his own right on you.

The shuffling of cloths and muffled moans sounded the room accompanied with the sounds of skin slapping against skin. His grunts made your skin feel hot and made your face burn with delight. Hands gripping tightly onto the sheets underneath you, trying to stable yourself against the rough fucking of your secret admirer.

“Fuck you feel so good Angel.” He seethes between clenched teeth, enjoying the feeling of your ass cheeks ricochet against his pelvis. “Are you ready – to finally be mine?” He questions his hand giving your ass a more than generous slap when you don’t respond fast enough.

“Suki..!” Is all you could manage, but it wasn’t enough for him.

“Oi oi oi, that wasn’t an answer.” He responds giving your cheek another slap. “Don’t make me have to ask again.” He growls gripping, your hair tight. Drool is running down your chin and your eyes are clenched shut. Your throat is dry and you can’t attempt to make a cohesive sentence.

“W-We can’t!” You remind him, a not too generous tug was delivered to your hair as he gets rougher with his movements. One tug makes you blurt out a sentence you never thought you’d be able to confess in your entire school career. “I – love you!” Although with a pause he could register every word. His grin is brought to life as he kisses a line up your back feeling elated.

“Me too babygirl.”

His absence on your body draws your attention back to the present prompting your furrow your brows in confusion. He pulls away from your body and spins you around, shoving your face into the wall, your body more than ready to take. He notes your spread legs and wastes no time in flipping up your skirt to look at how much you needed him. And only him.

Your underwear is off in an instant with his girthy length teasing your opening. He’s in one motion relishing the feeling of you not for long as his hips are quick at work. You groan from his cock stretching and filling your cunt as your last encounter was months ago before the school year started, during your training camp. And just like before, he didn’t hold back.

“Fuck tell me you love me.” He demands his hand leaving its grip on your hair to find refuge on the absent spot on your other hip. 

“I love you Katsuki! I love you so much!” You confess, tears welling in your eyes as this was too much to bare. He grunts bottoming out now, completely turning your brain to mush.

“Oi oi oi, how should I believe you? All you do is lie.” You groan in frustration. “Scream it, let everyone hear you.” And you did.

“Fuck I love you so much Katsuki Bakugou I love you so damn much please…! Only you!” you plead, tears streaking down your cheeks as you could feel yourself about to cum undone. He gives your neck a deep bite as continues to fuck you without any remorse.

“Damn you right you do.” He grits out, triumphant smirk dawning his face. “Who owns you?” 

“You do!” This new feeling of not being treated like a fragile object, being claimed, it was pulling you closer and closer to your release. With a silent cry you cum around his length. He slows down his pace to pull out and cum on your bottom with a groan. Him leaving your cunt was just as satisfying as when he was in you. He clears his throat fixing your clothes, turning you around to delicately drub your drying tears off to give you deep kiss. You couldn’t help the reoccurring cycle of being shocked, not responding until he pulls away. Leaving you absolutely spent and a blushing mess, refusing to look anyway but him. His face is back to its original annoyed state, triumph aura radiating from. He clicks the emergency the button again not giving you a chance to get ready yourself. You feel a draft and liquid drip from you as it dawns upon you that you don’t have an underwear on. 

“Hey give me back my underwear!” You tug his sleeve as he keeps his hands deep in his pants pockets.

“Nah.” Your stunned, face burning bright. The elevator opens revealing your worried class worried with their homeroom teacher accompanied with them. 

“We were so worried! Are you guys alright??” Ochako questions helping out your stiffly walking form. 

“Y-Yeah, just a little shaken.” You reassure her with the warm smile, trying your best to act how you normally did.

“Hopefully you guys aren’t hurt.” The class president checks in with you. Before you could kindly thank him, Katsuki beats you to the chase.

“You heard her, we’re fine. Stop worrying so damn much.”

“Alright enough, everyone get back to usual.” Your quick to pass by a hidden embarrassed Jirou. Your eyes connecting, gulping down your saliva that was the size of a golf ball as she mutters to you,

“I won’t tell anyone.”

[wichols]

Hi! For the ohshc writing prompt, Haruhi x Takashi for either 'Please don't cry' or 'You know I have feelings for you, right?' No need to if you don't want to though! Thanks for your time!

Dear anon, my brain craved mafia au and that is what it delivered. Much angst, such wow. Although I somehow managed to use both prompts even though the second one was more of an afterthought. I hope you all enjoy this

Brutality Mixed with Intimacy

Pairing: Takashi x Haruhi

Word Count: 1,458 Trigger Warning/Tags: Mafia AU, Violence, Blood, Vague Description of Bodily Injury, Hurt/Comfort, Human Trafficking 

“STOP!”

The sounds of fists slamming into fractured bones were finally silenced. His mind now fully aware of the pair of arms wrapped around his waist tugging helplessly. She watched the blood drip off his knuckles and pool next to the unconscious body slumped against the brick wall. His voice seemed miles away when he spoke, staring down at the body. “You weren’t supposed to see this.” His hands wiped quietly against the blood-stained denim. “But I couldn’t wait any longer.” Takashi’s voice trailed off as he gazed at her. He felt little trickles of blood and sweat run down his cheeks, soaking into his crisp button-down. 

Backpedaling unsteadily, Haruhi braced herself against the opposite wall of the body. She felt her mind reeling at the scene before her. The air hung heavy with fresh blood and a sweet scent of expensive cologne. “What?” “We didn’t anticipate you leaving the library so early.” Taking a tentative step forward he watched her shift unsteadily out into the light of the alley opening. Her head shook almost robotically while her body subconsciously created more distance between them, sliding against the wall. “The job went south. We all knew the kind of danger you were in but Kyoya wanted to wait longer. He still needed another piece of evidence to have him convicted.” It hurt to watch the way she looked at him. Like he was a monster or a wild animal that finally cornered its prey. Her eyes were blown wide and stunned by the few stray blood splatters speckled along her forearms. The night air nipped between them. Her mind was screaming ‘run’ but her feet were planted. “The way he talked about you and…...your body. I just…. I just couldn’t handle it anymore. I couldn’t let him spend another second talking about what he was going to do to you. We thought we had more time but-” “What was he going to do Takashi?” Glancing back between the unconscious man and Haruhi he sighed. “I don’t want to tell you.” “Tell me.” Her voice whimpered. “This man was a part of an underground human trafficking ring that preys on single women. They are sold to the highest bidder and never heard from again. We were just about to bust open everything but-” “But what Takashi.” His voice felt like ice running through her soul. “You were never going to make it to the drop off location.” 

She could feel her heart pounding in her ears. “He was instructed to lure you to the rendezvous point and then you were to be sent to the head of the ring, except-” his heart clenched at the thought of losing her “that he wanted you for himself. Had I not stepped in we would have not only lost you in the process but our main piece of evidence for the case.” “So I was used as bait?” Haruhi’s body felt numb, stuck somewhere between reality and another dimension. Human trafficking? Ring leader? Closing her eyes she tried to take an even breath to calm her frazzled nerves. Loose gravel crunched underfoot as he stepped closer to Haruhi. More than anything he wanted her to continue living her life. To be the successful woman she always dreamed of becoming not some subservient fuck toy for some low life bastard. 

She felt two warm hands cup her face gently, the connection made her stomach churn. The same hands that just got done pounding in someone’s skull were now caressing her cheeks like lovers would do in the quiet of the night. Brutality mixed with intimacy. “Please don’t cry.” Takashi allowed himself to stroke away a few of her tears with his blood-smeared hands. Something inside of him cracked seeing her so scared, the way her body shook in his grasp.  In his rage, he did the one thing he never wanted to do, expose her to the inner workings of the group. How could he ever begin to explain how they got here? How they used her for the greater good? Their Haruhi? His Haruhi? She was the unsuspecting black widow. Her ignorance of their group and their deals made her into the perfect candidate. She trusted without regard. Playing the role they needed. And this job was supposed to be no different. It enraged him how he allowed them to use her for so long. “Stop Takashi, you’re hurting me.” Haruhi’s voice quivered. 

Her small plea brought him back into the present. His hands gripped tightly around her face. “I’m sorry! I’m so sorry Haruhi. I would never…” His hands left her face as if she was made of fire.  She brought her own hands clutching her face, wiping desperately to remove her tears and the blood smoothed over her cheeks. Her wide eyes stared back at him. “You killed someone.” Glancing back at the barely moving body he found himself staring at the man’s mangled face. “He isn’t dead.” Yet. He didn’t have the heart to tell her that this isn’t the first time and that soon this place would be crawling with others to clean up the mess and remedy their current situation. “I need you to do exactly as I say. Can you do that for me?” His hand reached for hers. Flinching away from his touch she eyed him cautiously. “How can I trust you after this?” Real shit show we have now Ootori. Bending down on one knee he reached out again offering his hand to her. Haruhi stood there looking down at the man covered in the blood of another human. Did she truly know who was kneeling before her? How long had this been going on? Her mind raced with more questions than answers she dared not ask for. Her fingers lightly settling on the tips of his hand. “You know that I have had feelings for you some time now, right?” His eyes looked up at hers, watching her face for even the slightest reaction. “More than anything all I ever wanted to do was keep you away from the cruelties of this world but myself and the others felt responsible for handling things outside the control of the government. And if you can even bear to be around me after this I will be eternally grateful but I need you to follow the instructions I give you exactly how I tell you. After that, I will tell you everything. Can you do that for me?” She allowed herself the smallest of nods, urging him to continue. “I am going to give you a business card. You need to walk two blocks south and sit on the bench next to the phonebooth. Do your best to not make eye contact with anyone. They will send an average looking black car within a few minutes. Hand the driver the card and go to the undisclosed location to clean up. Anything you need or want will be provided at no expense.” Twisting his wrist around he quickly checked the time before continuing. “Give me three hours and I will tell you everything you need to know. Deal?”

“Okay.” Springing up from bended knee he brought her into a hug tucking her swiftly into his chest. “I love you.” Leaning down he placed a small kiss into her hair before releasing her. “Three hours, I swear.” He watched her shift up her hood to cover her face before turning left out of the alley. 

Once she was out of sight he turned back to the man slumped against the wall. Pressing two fingers against his throat he confirmed that the man was still alive. Tapping the earpiece twice he activated the location feature. An additional tap to begin speaking. “You heard all of that Shadow Lord?” “Yes, I will have the additional team pick her up and bring her to the west wing of the compound.” A pregnant pause lingered between them. “Now that she knows about the operation she has no choice. You know what we have to do with her don’t you?” “I never wanted her to be a knowing participant.” “I know. We can make sure she lives a relatively normal life with him.” “But I love her. More than he ever could.” “She will suspect him the least. You know the boss doesn’t like to get his hands dirty, Tamaki is the cleanest out of all of us. She will be able to live a comfortable life. And more importantly, she will be safe. She will be here soon and I need to alert the staff. See you shortly.”

One tiny beep later and Takashi was alone with their mark. “You just had to be selfish didn’t you, fucking prick?”

[streetsteel]

.: Judgement passed — Pt. Five

[COLD TRACKS drabble — All parts linked] [PART ONE] [PART TWO] [PART THREE] [PART FOUR] [PART FIVE]

With the force of the blow, the knife remains upright.

Everything rushes in at once. The inevitability of the moment. The weight of the blade as he carried the hit. The heat of the sun on his back, the blood on his hands and the beating at his temples. The nausea that overcomes him. The air making it in and out, way too fast. Breaths too shallow. Jay brings a hand to his mouth. He’s hyperventilating, gasping for air like a fish out of water, but each breath he takes in makes him even more nauseous. His head feels light and heavy at the same time.

There’s no clarity. There’s no feeling of relief that washes over him. All that grief is still here. The pain is searing.

He wants to scream. He wants to sob. He wants to be five years old again, so that his parents can hold him and tell him it’s all just a bad dream. That everything will be better in the morning.

It is the morning. It’s 6:38, and it is not better.

Jay pushes himself off and falls onto his back. A long exhale makes it out, and he tries to force himself to take long, deep breaths.

He fucked up.

He thought it would fix everything. Fix him.

It didn’t.

Jay brings his hands to his eyes. Breathe in. Out. Still shaky. Shaky, but still alive, somehow, in the flesh. The soul is in shambles, but it’s nothing new. It’s one new cut, but it also reopened the deepest one of them and forced it wider.

He doesn’t look when Becker turns his head to see the kukri that sank ten inches into the sand, a finger away from his neck. Doesn’t move when the other grunts in pain and pushes himself away. There’s movement, more pained groans, and when Jay finally decides to look, the man is using a piece of driftwood to try and get up.

Panic sets in immediately. Survival reflexes kick in. Jay scrambles, picks his knife back up again, rolls on himself and up to his feet. Becker is sitting up, hands going up to his face. There’s a sickening crunch as he snaps his nose back into place. It barely covers the sharp yelp the man lets out. He picks the piece of wood again, carefully getting up, bringing a hand up to his damaged ribs.

Jay feels himself trembling. He’s never acted this uncertain before. Everything he does, he does with certitude. There’s no place for second-guessing, no room for doubt. He has only one speed, and it’s full throttle, straight ahead.

This kind of mistake is unlike him. He should’ve carried it out, like his mother taught him. One hit was all he needed. One clean hit to the neck and there would’ve been no room for doubt of fear. No ambiguity, only an accomplished fact.

He’s a loose end. You don’t leave loose ends behind.

The other man is finally up. His motions are stunted as he hesitates to turn around and face his opponent. And takes a step back, almost synchronized with Jay, who also backs up a few feet.

Silence stretches between them. They gauge each other, looking for a movement that would betray an attack. Until Becker sighs and tosses the large branch down.

“They’d think you’ve made the right choice.”

Despite all his conflicting emotions, Jay immediately laughs. It is bitter, joyless—bordering on tears.

“Don’t speak for them. Fuck—don’t talk to me.” The pain is unmistakable in Jay’s voice, but Becker knows better than to comment on it. He instead holds his hands on his ribs, as if to protect them.

“You can sleep soundly, I won’t come after you.”

There’s a sinking feeling in Jay’s chest. Loose end. Biting him in the ass.

“An eye for an eye,” Becker continues. “Hope you won’t mind if I’m calling it quits.”

“Bullshit. That’s fucking bullshit an’ you know it.” Jay spits back. There’s a pit in his stomach, he feels like he’s going to be sick, but he can’t just leave it at that. “You can’t trust a Rocket.”

“Don’t blame you. But look where it’s led me. I’ve done my time, kid, and I got better things to focus on now. I’d rather not ruin that.”

There’s no goodbye, no adieu, no idle threat. The man only turns around and painfully walks away. Jay could stab him in the back a thousand times. There’s still this turmoil of emotions boiling inside him, mixing in with paranoia. 

He could get up. Go for it. Stab. Dispatch him without a second thought. Be done. Leave.

I got better things to focus on now. I’d rather not ruin that.

Jay stiffens. Watches as the other walks away. It’s not dismissive, it’s done with it, in the way Becker is hunched over.

“I fuckin’ let you live!” His voice is hoarse, bordering on cracking as he yells, throat tight with despair. The knife swings towards the trace of their bodies in the sand. It looks like a six-legged monster crawled onto the beach. “I had you, right fuckin’ there! Right! Fuckin’! There! An’ this? This is what I chose for you, you worthless piece of shit! You live because I fuckin’ decided it!”

There’s a prickling sensation at the corner of his eyes. Jay can’t tell if it’s sand that got in there or tears. Probably both.

Becker stops. Doesn’t turn to face him. Resumes walking.

Fuck.

This couldn’t have gone worse.

Everything, everything he’s done in his entire life was supposed to lead to a moment that would bring him peace. And there’s no peace, only frustration, and this grief that keeps burning like a white-hot iron on his skin. He feels drained. There’s nothing left. No energy, no fight, no fire.

Only the searing sting of shame and failure at delivering on the one thing he clung so desperately to.

He couldn’t do it.

He couldn’t ruin that.

Jay falls backwards onto the sand and brings himself back up, elbows in between his knees, face in his hands. A loud, broken sob makes it out. It’s the first of many. He’s held them back for so long, and he allows them to come, shaking his frame and burning his eyes. His throat feels raw. There’s a deep wound inside that’s nowhere close to healing. Grief and anger never make for pretty crying: they’re ugly. They twist someone’s features in a mask of agony. The tears feel boiling hot on his chin. His nose clogs up. Saliva comes to the corners of his mouth. His chest is spasming with each sob. It feels like the dam’s broken, after all the times he patched it up as best as he could. What a mess, what a fucking mess.

And, strange as it maybe, as Jay allows himself to process the whole ordeal, there’s what he was looking for.

It’s not absolute. It’s not implacable. But there it is, that hint of unburdened lucidity that wasn’t there before.

No one said closure was easy.

[darkwoods-darkdreams]

Imagine you’re a dancer (V)

You turned your head to look at the window. The moon was hanging high. It was late at night, well past when exhaustion should have taken you. And yet, you were still awake. You winced as another kick pressed up in your womb. In your peripheral, the outline of your belly changed and jostled from the movement. Then, an all too familiar fluttering. You knew that the creature inside of you wasn’t human. It wouldn’t be able to assume a human form until it was older. That was what you had been told, anyway. You didn’t care. Once it was out of you, you wanted to get as far away from them as possible.

Another wave of searing pain made you groan. You immediately clamped your hand over your mouth. You couldn’t let anyone hear. If you did, you would be trapped and forced to give birth in front of an audience.

Cautiously, you looked down. The swell of your womb was far more than you had ever seen on a woman before. Your stomach lurched at the sight. You watched, horrified as your womb clamped down once more. It only made you whimper. Nothing had changed. You had been like this for hours. Your womb was still carefully insulating the creature.

You huffed. Lying down clearly wasn’t helping you. You rolled onto your side. A sigh left you as the weight settled onto the bed. With some effort, you managed to prop yourself up so you were kneeling on the bed. You were forced to spread your legs in order to make room for your belly. The curve brushed against the bedsheets as you tried to get comfortable. You pulled your nightgown over the swell. It didn’t help much. Your pregnancy was still obvious. The fabric was taut over your belly. You refused to touch it. You didn’t want to give the creature any sort of comfort.

Slowly, the pain lessened. You found yourself breathing normally again. Sweat was beading on your nape. The air felt cold on your skin. It wouldn’t last long. You needed to move, or at least find a position more comfortable. Then, you would be able to worry about running away. Everyone would be so busy with the baby that you would finally be able to escape.

You carefully shifted toward one side of the bed, only to feel something different. It made you yelp, but not out of pain. You went still. Had it kicked somewhere it hadn’t before? Had it moved?

Warm wetness trickled between your thighs. You froze. With shaking hands, you reached underneath your nightgown and between your legs. The bedding was damp, but growing wetter. Your fingers lifted, stroking yourself. You ignored how the simplest touch made your back arch. You were more concerned with the same wetness. You withdrew your fingers, then moved your hand so you could look at it. The faint tinge of red was unmistakable. Your heartbeat pounded in your ears. Blood.

With adrenaline coursing through you, you got up from the bed. Turning to the sheets, there was a pinkish stain where you had been kneeling. You hurriedly bundled it all up. The man that had done this to you wasn’t human. He drank your blood like it was wine. He had tracked you down when you had tried to escape. If his sense of smell was sharp enough, he would know what was going on and seek you out. You were fortunate enough that your room was in a different wing. Maybe you would have some time to stop the smell of iron from reaching him.

You hurried into the bathroom. You started the water and dumped the sheets in. It wouldn’t be enough. Where had you put that incense the midwife had left you? You looked over all of the bottles on the counter. It wasn’t there. You turned to search the bedroom, only to double over in pain. You grabbed the doorframe in an attempt to keep upright. More fluid dripped down your thighs. Your knees buckled as a weight pressed against your cervix. You crossed the room. That little tin had to be somewh-

Something in the corner of your vision made you freeze. You turned to the window. The clouds had darkened the night sky. The rain obscured everything except the white marble balcony. Something was off. The balcony looked strange, like pieces had broken off and fallen to the courtyard below.

The weight of eyes on you made everything click into place. He had transformed into his true self and was standing on the balcony. You needed to run.

The crunching of metal stopped you. The knob of the glass doors turned. The inside handle fell to the ground with a clatter. You staggered back. Your legs hit the bed. You didn’t have enough time to crawl over it.

He stepped inside, fur dripping with rainwater. His eyes almost glowed as they remained focused on you. “What happened?”

You said nothing. You weren’t going to explain it to him. You wouldn’t give him the satisfaction. And yet, you couldn’t help but glance toward the bathroom. “I slipped,” you lied. You prayed that another contraction wouldn’t make your voice break. You pointed to your thigh. “I scratched myself by accident. It’s nothing.”

He moved closer to you. He towered over you in this form. “Show me this cut, then.”

You tensed. He knew that you were lying, and was now trying to catch you in it. “I-It’s…” Your jaw clenched as your lower back began to ache once more. You forced your back to stay straight, even though you wanted to sink to the floor. “I told you that it’s nothing.”

“My heir is not nothing,” he snapped. He stalked across the room until he was standing in front of you. Without any space to stay balanced, you fell back against the bed. The mattress was soft, but the weight of your womb on top of you in addition to the contraction made you groan. His ears swiveled. He bared his teeth and his tongue snaked out to trace over the sharp edges. He could smell the iron, even if you couldn’t. “I didn’t think you would be so disobedient. You know better than to hide this from me.”

You opened your mouth to argue with him, but it was interrupt by a gasp as his clawed hands slipped beneath your thighs. With his fingers curled around the backs of your knees, he wasted no time in lifting your legs. The nightgown slipped upwards. The skirt fell into a pile beneath your belly. You squirmed as he pushed your legs open. He had to spread them even further to accommodate for your belly. You gripped the fabric beneath you. Your face burned with shame. Your chest burned with hatred. “Stop it. Let…Let go of me.”

His grip tightened on your thighs. “No. Tonight is the night you give me an heir. I’m not letting you out of my sight. I want to see you give birth to my son.”

You reached down, trying to pry his hands off, but his body felt like iron. He was impossible to move. Fighting quickly exhausted you. Hot tears spilled from the corners of your eyes and into your hair. He talked about the thing inside of you like it wasn’t a monster. You didn’t want to hear it. “Don’t say that.”

His brow furrowed. “It’s the truth. The child inside of you is mine. He will be my successor. My firstborn son.”

Your hands fell to your sides. You were too weak. The pain was taking a toll. “You…don’t know that.”

“That it’s a boy?” He laughed. A low, rumbling noise. “I can sense it. He’s a rough little thing. He kicks because he wants attention. He squirms because he wants to be held properly. He’s only been so persistent because you refuse to acknowledge him.” He moved your nightgown further up, revealing soft skin rounded with his child. He smoothed his palm over your belly. The pain didn’t stop, but the fluttering did. “When he’s born, you’ve love him, as you should.”

“Shut up!” you shrieked. “You promised me that I only had to give you an heir. Nothing more. I didn’t-“

“Enough!” His wings flared behind him. His claws dug into your thighs. “I made no such promise. You’re not a broodmare to be discarded. You’re the mother of my children. Your role doesn’t end when he’s born. You’ll feed him. Care for him. A child flourishes with their mother. I won’t settle for anything less when it comes to my son.”

Your tears kept falling. The pain was becoming too much. Your entrance throbbed, unsatisfied with its emptiness. Your fingers curled. Your nails dug into the fabric to the point that you could feel them stinging your palms. You cried out in frustration. Your own body knew the process. It wanted to give birth. It was you to push and deliver the child he wanted so badly. You fought against that urge. Your body betrayed you, clamping down on its own accord. The ache worsened. It wanted him to take you again. To fill you with another child. You covered your face. You couldn’t do this. You don’t want to.

The bedroom doors were thrown open. Several sets of footsteps hurried inside. You knew that one of them is the midwife. He must have called for them the moment he smelled your blood. They were human, so they had taken longer to get to your room. The man lowered your legs, then released them. You quickly closed them before anyone else could pry them apart.

“Alright, girls, pull her further up onto the bed and get some pillows underneath her head and shoulders.” The midwife’s orders were rattled off one by one. The maids did as they were told, grabbing you by the arms and haul you into the middle of the bed.

You tried to pull away from them, but didn’t have the strength. It didn’t take them long to prop you up and position themselves on either side of you. With your upper body elevated, you could see the midwife move to stand in front of you. The man had returned to his human form. When she tried to spread your legs, you kicked at her. “Don’t…Don’t touch me…”

The midwife shot you a look, then turned to the master of the house. “We’ll take it from here, Sir. I’ll have one of the girls fetch you when everything is cleaned up.”

“No. I’ll stay right here. I want to see my son come into this world.”

You wished that you had the energy to get up and strangle him for watching, but you could only cry in protest as the two maids helped to pull your legs up and apart once more. You whimpered as she slipped her fingers into your entrance. The pain still hadn’t stopped. You couldn’t remember the last time it had given you a break.

“Well, you won’t have to wait long,” the midwife replied as she withdrew her hand. She looked up at you. “You need to push.”

You shook your head. You didn’t want to obey them. You didn’t want to give birth to a monster.

“Listen to me, girl. If you don’t help it along, you’ll be here for hours. You’ll still have a baby at the end of it. I’ll make sure of that.”

“I won’t…” Your vision swam. “It’s not- I can’t-“ You stiffened as she pressed her hand against the side of your belly. It wasn’t enough to hurt, but it surprised you enough that you bared down for a moment. The creature slipped further down, then stopped. You shut your eyes. Your cervix was stretched around it. It was too big. You wouldn’t be able to move it again.

And yet, the urge resurfaced. You held your breath and gritted your teeth as you begrudgingly obeyed your body.

“That’s it. That’s a good girl.” The midwife gently spurred you on. “Good, now take a break.”

You didn’t listen. You kept going. You wanted it out. You didn’t want to carry it inside of you anymore. You didn’t want it to cause you anymore pain.

“Stop. Stop, you’re going to hurt yourself. That’s enough-”

“Move,” the man’s voice thundered through the room. The maid on your right scurried off of the bed. Another, larger hand grabbed your leg before it could fall. “Relax, pet.”

You didn’t respond. You couldn’t breathe, let alone speak. Your lungs burned. You knew that you would lose consciousness, but you didn’t care. You fought against that innate desire to survive. It didn’t take long for it to overpower you. You fell back against the pillows. You gasped for air. Sweat made your hair cling to your face. You stared up at the ceiling. You wished that you would die.

The man leaned over you. You glanced to him. The fear of losing your autonomy filled you, but nothing changed. He wasn’t using his power. He was just watching you. The fingers of his free hand brushed your hair from your face. The hand holding your thigh loosened. His thumb rubbed back and forth over your skin. You swallowed. Despite everything, such little things brought you comfort. Your body sank further into the pillows.

“Slow down.” His voice was a softer now that he had taken his human form, but that familiar rumble was still there. “There’s no need to rush. I can’t lose you now.”

Your expression faltered. You didn’t understand. You didn’t have time to ask about it. The urge to push overwhelmed you. The creature moved further and further. You fell back again, panting.

“Almost done. I can see the baby’s head.”

You didn’t have the energy to argue. You could only wish that she would stop calling it a baby. It wasn’t a child. It wasn’t human. However long this took, it wouldn’t be enough for you to accept it as yours.

With the next contraction, however, your situation became all too clear. The head pressed at your entrance. It edged further and further out until the midwife slipped her fingers between the head and your walls to ease you open even further. It was almost there. It was almost born. You covered your face again as she laid towels down. You didn’t want to look.

The head pushed through. Your legs twitched as the body followed. All at once, you felt empty and cold.

“There we go.” The midwife began to clean it off with a towel. The light colour of the fabric quickly darkened with blood. The man’s grip on your leg tightened. You couldn’t tell if it was from the smell of iron or the realization that he had gotten what he wanted.

You hesitated. There was no noise. Wasn’t it supposed to cry? You kept your eyes covered, waiting for something to break the growing silence.

A hiccup. Then a squeak. The high pitch noise slowly turned into short, uneven screeches.

“A healthy baby boy. Congratulations, sir.”

Your leg was lowered. The bed shifted. “Let me see him.”

You peeked through your fingers. All you could see was a tiny bundle being passed to the man. He held it as if it was priceless. As if it would break with the slightest strength. It kept crying, though it was softer now.

“Alright, let’s finish up.” The midwife patted your leg. The second maid resumed her position.

When everything was said and done, you were given a new nightgown and laid properly on the bed. The maids took everything out of the room, either to be cleaned or destroyed.

Mustering what little strength you had left, you sat up. You jumped a bit when you saw that the midwife was still standing next to you. She was quiet for a moment. She smoothed your hair down and readjusted the pillows so you could stay upright. You weren’t sure why she had suddenly become so kind. Maybe it was because you had proven your usefulness to her master.

“You should get some rest, if you can. I’ll be by again shortly to help you feed him.”

You said nothing. You didn’t want to feed it. You didn’t want to see what it looked like.

The midwife hesitated. You could tell that she was annoyed with your silent refusal, but she couldn’t say anything about it. She stepped away from you. She whispered something to the man that you couldn’t hear before taking her leave.

You stared at your lap. It felt strange to have it gone, to have no weight cradled by your thighs. Your attention shifted to the man. He was standing by the glass doors that led to the balcony. He was murmuring something in a language you didn’t recognize. It was probably old, one that only his kind knew.

You looked away when he turned around. You heard his footsteps grow closer.

“You did so well, my darling.” He laughed as the creature began to cry harder. “But it seems he likes you more than me.”

You stiffened as the bundle of fabric came into view and was placed in your arms. You only accepted out of instinct, not wanting to drop it. You made the mistake of looking. It looked like a small version of the man in his true form. Dark, slightly damp fur. Ears that swiveled as it tried to understand where it was. Little legs and webbed wings that wriggled underneath the blanket. It didn’t have any claws. You supposed that those would grow in. Its dark eyes were watery, narrowed and blinking as it adjusted to being out in the air. Then, it looked up at you, eyes wide. It stopped crying and relaxed in your arms. It was comforted by your presence. It knew that it was safe.

You didn’t realize that you were crying until the tears fell from your jaw and darkened the blanket. You didn’t know what you were feeling. Regret? Frustration? Instinctual love? The warmth in your chest was so foreign that, for a moment, you feared that you were dying.

The man pressed a kiss to your temple. His lips brushed over your cheek. “You’ve given me something so wonderful. Our firstborn son.”

You swallowed. Firstborn. That implied more. That dreadful thought was cut short by the creature moving its head. Its snout pressed into your breast. It whined softly. You reluctantly pulled the neck of your nightgown to one side. It latched on immediately. You groaned at the feeling. Relief mixed with discomfort. It suckled hungrily. One wing wrestled out of the blanket and draped over your breast.

The man tilted your chin up and ensnared you in a kiss.

Several moons had passed. The baby had grown bigger and heavier. He thrived in your presence. The midwife had tried to introduce a wet nurse, but he had started crying and reached out for you the moment he was placed in the wet nurse’s arms. There were times where he would only sleep in your arms, and you ended up falling asleep while leaning back against the headboard. Slowly but surely, the baby was beginning to garner your affection. You spoke to him sometimes. Usually it was to softly scold him for being so fussy. He merely nestled himself further into the crook of your arm and chirped happily.

Today, you were standing as he fed. The man had insisted that you both be moved so you would be closer to him. You stayed with him in the master bedroom. The smaller room you stood in, which was connected through a curtained doorway, acted as the nursery. The man had fallen back asleep. It was still early in the morning. He had explained earlier that his kind didn’t really need rest the same way humans did, but he had wanted to lie next to you while you rested.

You huffed as you adjusted your arm. It was beginning to get sore after holding the baby for so long. “You’re getting heavy,” you whispered. “I won’t be able to carry you for much longer.”

He jolted, unlatching himself from your breast. He stared up at you, eyes wide. He whined softly. Even though the baby couldn’t speak just yet, it understood you perfectly. You didn’t know if it was just something his kind was capable of or if it was simply the connection between a mother and her child. His little tongue licked up the milk that dribbled down his snout. The softness of his wings brushed over your chest as he reached up toward you. It keened again.

You sighed. “You can’t starve yourself just so I can keep holding you.” You padded over to the chair in the corner and sat down. You switched him to your other arm. “There. Go ahead.”

He blinked. He leaned forward, his mouth open. The sight of teeth flickered before he latched on once more. You let out a small cry of pain and surprise as his teeth sank into your skin. Your arm tightened around the baby, eyes shut as you waited for the pain to subside. He continued to suckle greedily. The sound of his slurping and swallowing filled the air.

You let out a slow exhale. You had noticed his teeth growing in, but you didn’t think that he’d bite you. Your eyes slowly opened. You looked down, wondering how bad the damage was, only to freeze.

Eyes the same colour as yours stared up at you. Little tufts of hair, dark like his father’s, stuck up haphazardly. Human legs wriggled in the blanket. A tiny, human hand had replaced the wing on your chest. The baby, a human baby, smiled a bit. It was as if he was trying to ask if you were proud of him.

You held him closer to you. He was so small. So cute. So human. And yet your heart ached. He wasn’t human, not really. A small part of you was upset that he had changed in an effort to please you. Nothing would change the fact that he was your baby. Your thumb gently rubbed his cheek. Try as you might, you hadn’t been able to stop your instincts. You loved him dearly. He was half of you just as much as he was half monster.

You looked up to see the man brushing the curtain to one side. He must have smelled the blood. His hand gently smoothed over the baby’s hair. “I thought that he would have your hair.”

You remained quiet. You watched his expression as he leaned down to kiss his son’s forehead. He had changed in the time you had spent with him. He had been so cruel before. He had hypnotized you, impregnated you, and then stolen you away. You couldn’t remember the last time he had ensnared you in his gaze. It seemed so distant now. He apologized to you every so often, seeking your forgiveness for his treatment of you, but it was only when you were drifting toward sleep. When he thought that you wouldn’t quiet hear him. He still walked with the air of someone with immeasurable power. He was still a monster that only assumed the guise of a human. But there was something different about the way he looked at you, like a part of him was at ease when you were with him.

The man’s hand came to rest on the back of the chair before he kissed you. When he withdrew, his attention was once again focused on your son. He had stopped feeding, licking his lips. The man took him into his arms. “You’ve done so well, little one. We should reward you.”

You halfheartedly glared at him. You knew exactly what he was getting at.

“I would ask if you want a little brother or sister, but I already can already tell that it’s going to be a boy.” He set the baby down in his crib.

“You can’t possibly know that,” you replied as you got up from the chair. You examined your breast. There were small wounds, but they had already closed. It was probably why the baby had stopped eating. You adjusted your nightgown to cover yourself.

His arm wrapped around your waist. He lifted you with ease and carried you into the bedroom. Rather than lying you down on the bed, he sat down on the edge and placed you in his lap. Your hands moved to his shoulders. Straddling him like this reminded you of when you had still been a dancer.

He lifted your nightgown until it was bunched around your waist. “You’re so beautiful. Even more beautiful than the day we met.” He pulled you closer, his lips brushing against yours. “You’ll dance for me again, won’t you?”

Rather than nod, you kissed him.

[jaa1682-27]

Violent Delights

Summary: Mando and Kia must figure out how to get off of Arvala-7 after Jawas steal parts of the Razor Crest.

Chapter 5

Mando and I didn’t speak much as we made the trek back to the Razor Crest. So much had happened today and now with the adrenaline out of my system, I wanted nothing more than a shower in the refresher, a nice warm bowl of soup, and a long night’s sleep in my cot.

The necklace jingled in my pocket as our boots crunched against the red brown soil of the caverns we walked through. Mando had synced the ‘egg’ with his wrist panel so now it automatically followed him wherever he went. The child inside was looking around in awe and curiosity.

My thoughts kept cycling between Nerva and the child.

How did the child get here?

How long has he been here?

Who is the client and what does he want the child?

What exactly is his species?

How did Nerva get here?

Was she captured on someone’s orders?

Who sent the message?

Why did they send the message?

And finally, what did me or my father have to do with this?

I let out a “Ooof!” when I accidentally bumped into Mando. He had stopped and was looking around. Even though the wind was whistling, there were footsteps, quiet footsteps; almost silent if you weren’t actively listening for them.

We were being followed.

Mando’s hand went to his blaster, and I pulled out mine just in case. Then, someone launched themselves from a crevice behind Mando, and the mercenary began swinging his staff at him. I noticed the tracking fob beeping loudly on his hip. When I went to blast the merc, another one jumped out and knocked the blaster out of my hand.

I dodged his staff as I reached for my vibroblade, and Mando knocked his merc on the head, sending him to the ground. The merc attacking me kept inching us towards the baby, and I guessed Mando noticed because he sent the pod flying backwards a good 10 feet away from me. The other merc got back up and Mando pulled out his long range weapon to block some of his moves.

I managed to finally punch the merc in the face, but he only paused for a brief minute. I took the pause and ducked another swipe of the staff before stabbing him in the side with my vibroblade. He screamed and hit on the side of my head with his staff. I fell to the ground with a groan, and the merc joined the other one to fight Mando.

Despite the constant throbbing of my head, I rolled onto my stomach, and began crawling towards my blaster. Mando managed to shock the one of the mercs, and hit the other one, who took off towards the baby.

I opened my mouth to yell “NO!” but was instantly silenced when Mando disintegrated him. Mando walked over to me and helped me stand.

“Are you okay?” he asked as he tried to catch his breath.

“I think so,” I answered as I picked up my blaster. The tracking fob from the merc was still beeping and the child cooed as it looked at us. I walked over to it and crushed the fob with my boot.

Later, we made a small camp around dusk once we made it out of the caverns. I snacked on a few ration bars, groaning at the terrible taste, but hey, it was better than nothing. The throbbing headache had now eased into a mild, dull ache in the back of my skull, and I took another bite as I watched the sunset.

Nearby, Mando was groaning in slight pain as he tried to cauterize the wound on his arm that he had from the skirmish. My eyes roamed over to the child, who was watching Mando with wide eyes.

“Maybe we should name him?” I suggested.

Mando let out a breath and then said, “No.”

“Why not? We can’t keep calling him, ‘the child’-“

“-And we can’t get attached. He’s not a pet. You know the rules. He’s…a means to an end. That’s all,” Mando concluded.

I nodded with a sigh, “Sorry, sorry. You’re right.”

Mando let a deep breath as he once again tried to use the small laser to fix his wound. I looked over and noticed that the gash was quite long and quite deep.

“I could help you with that.”

“I got it-“

I rolled my eyes at Mando’s stubbornness and went to sit by his injured arm. “Will you stop being so stubborn and let me help you? You got a good bit of it, but you’re exhausting your other arm now. I mean, you can still try to do it one-handed, but it will be must faster if I do it. Plus, I have numb spray in my pack; it will help it not get infected.”

I jolted a bit when I felt movement behind me. To our surprise, the child has climbed out of his pod and slipped in between us, his tiny, three-fingered hand extended towards Mando’s wound.

“What the-“ I managed to sputter out before Mando quickly stood up and returned the child to his pod.

Mando sat down and seemed to give up cauterizing his wound and moved on to tinker with his wrist panel. I looked back at the pod, and frowned when it was once again empty. I felt the movement behind me, and the child was once again reaching out for Mando’s arm.

Mando gasped and turned to him in surprise once more, before picking him up and placing him back in the pod again. The child looked up at him as Mando sealed it shut.

“He probably just wanted to stretch his legs, Mando. No telling how long he’s been in there,” I said to him.

Mando sat back beside me and said, “Doesn’t matter. He’s our bounty.”

I said nothing, and Mando reached for the small laser…and handed it to me. “You wanted to help, right?”

I nodded and proceeded to apply numb spray before I cauterized his wound. Mando let out a hiss and began breathing heavily as I worked on him. When it was done, he breathed out, “Thank you.”

“Anytime, boss,” I replied.

When we awoke the next morning, I realized that I had shifted towards Mando while I was asleep. Whereas I slept a good 5 feet away from him last night, this morning, I was maybe 5 inches.

However, the warmth of his body was quite nice, even though I quickly reminded myself that he was still my boss. Waking up to his helmet facing me was quite awkward though, but Mando didn’t comment on it, so I didn’t either; both of us packing our supplies and heading back to the ship in silence. The slight warmth in chest eased away the closer we got to the ship, and soon I had forgotten about it.

A few hours later, we finally managed to make it back to the ship…but Jawas had gotten to it first. We hid ourselves on a nearby cliff, the child watching the scene down below in awe. The Jawas were currently rustling around, dismantling the ship and loading the parts onto a Sandcrawler.

Frustrated, I cursed under my breath since it took them no time to strip the ship in the time we were gone, plus I had made a bunch of repairs to it on our way here. If we managed to get the parts back, it would take us days, maybe even weeks, to put it back together.

Mando pulled out his long gun, and began disintegrating a few of the Jawas. I shook my head at the Mandalorian. Aware that they were now under attack, they quickly ran inside of the Sandcrawler and it began to roll away. “Stay here with the ship!” Mando ordered as he took off for the large vehicle, the creature’s ball following close behind.

“What!” I exclaimed but Mando was already too far away.

“Don’t get yourself killed. You’re my ride home,” I mumbled under my breath. Jawas were not a threat for most people, but the Sandcrawler was a large terrain vehicle and they may have weapons aboard. I knew that Mando could handle himself, especially against them, but I also didn’t want him to get hurt.

I sighed and retreated to the barren ship. They had stripped it pretty good, as the ship was basically nothing more than a frame. The fuel cells, wires, panels, my add-ons, hell, even the weapons, were gone.

Even though I knew it was useless, I tried to start the ship anyways. The engines started up, but quickly blew out smoke and powered down. I groaned, frustrated, and beat my hands against the control panel in anger. Half of it was missing anyways so I didn’t really worry about breaking anything. I beat the panel so many times that I eventually made a small dent.

I let out a breath and climbed out of the cockpit. To pass the time, I took inventory of what we missing and what was left…which wasn’t very much. Then, I took a seat on the entrance ramp, snacking on protein bars with my blaster perched in my lap.

Mando and the creature returned soon after, and I stood to greet them. “He lives. Any luck?”

Mando sighed, slightly annoyed, “No,” and walked inside of the ship. I sat back down as I heard him search through the ship and grunt in frustration when I heard the weapons container slam shut. I found the baby and put him in my lap.

“Hey, are you hungry, little guy?” I asked as I handed him a piece of a protein bar.

He cooed and took a little nibble. I smiled at him as he ate the bar piece by piece. Suddenly, I heard the sound of the engines starting, and then I shook my head.

“It’s not gonna work,” I mumbled under my breath.

The engines started up, only to die down and blow out smoke, just as they did with me. The baby and I turned to Mando as he climbed down from the cockpit and leaned against the ladder.

He sighed and the child climbed out of my lap and wobbled over to him. He looked up at Mando and cooed, ears perked up.

“So what do we do now?” I asked as I took a bite of the protein bar.

“I guess we’re walking,” Mando said, exasperated.

“To where?”

The sun had started to go down by the time we made it back to the moisture farm. I figured that Mando took us back to Kuiil to see if he could help us.

“I thought the two of you would be dead,” Kuiil said to us from his post off of a lighting tower.

After some time, Mando tried to repair his wrist panel and Kuiil asked, “This is what was causing all of the fuss?”, pointing at the child, who was chasing a frog.

“I think it’s a child,” Mando answered as I watched the child play.

“It’s better to deliver it alive then. Tea?” Kuiil said as he handed me a cup. I nodded in thanks.

“My ship has been destroyed. We’re trapped here.”

“Stripped,” Kuiil corrected, “Not destroyed. The Jawas steal. They don’t destroy.”

“Stripped or destroyed, it’s makes no difference to me,” Mando replied in annoyance.

The child giggled as he finally caught the frog and looked at me, small teeth shining through. I shook my head as I smiled into my cup.

“They’re protected by their crawling fortress. There’s no way to recover the parts.”

“You can trade,” Kuiil suggested.

“With Jawas?” I asked, incredulous. I’d seen Rhonona try to trade with Jawas for ship parts a few times and it always seemed to be more of a hassle than anything else.

“Are you out of your mind?” Mando added.

“I will take you to them. I have spoken,” Kuiil said as he handed Mando a tool to help him repair the panel.

We all turned our heads to the child, who now had frog legs dangling from his mouth.

“Hey! Spit that out!” Mando scolded, but the child just swallowed it down before giggling at him.