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yandere-wishes · 8 months

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‧ ₊˚✧ Do Not Weep Hydro Dragon ‧ ₊˚✧

Summary: There's a crack in Neuvillette's heart that bares your name. He sheds a tear for you each day. Yet once you return to Fontaine with your fiance. The cracks and tears begin to grow.

Warnings: Yandere behavior, stalking, arranged marriages, affairs.

Author's note: I'm sorry 😭💔😭💔

There've been rumors circling around Fontaine. Ghostly whispers floating between coral-tainted lips and fervid ears. The rumors spoke a bittersweet name. One Neuvillate had long since buried. At first, the notion of your return had felt like a bad dream. like the roar of a tsunami before it crashes on shore. Terrifying yet, ultimately unreal. He'd summed the rumors up to some traveler who bore your mien. To an erroneous article by the steam bird. Anything. anything at all.

Anything that wasn't you.

It wasn't until after a particularly grueling trial that he'd witnessed the truth behind these rumors. There you were in all you're glory. Gleaming akin to the finest pearls laying dormant in the primordial sea. Your expression, when he could catch it, was gleeful, delighted, A drastic contrast to his last unfortunate memory of you. His eyes follow the delicate movement of your gloved hand as it stifles a cheery giggle pouring from your cherry lips. It's only after noting your delight that he becomes conscious of the gentleman accompanying you. A ginger with bloodthirsty eyes and a soul that reeks of carnage.

A splash of heat rolls down Neuvillet's cheek. Right before a splash of cold splatters across his temples. his attention narrows on the sky, as the

clouds begin to weep. What once was a peaceful sunny day shatters like a wine glass on porcelain tiles. Humidity threads through the air robbing him of his breath.

It's raining.

How fitting, Neuvillette thinks as he watches you and your companion run to find shelter.

Neuvillette recalls your smile almost as clearly as he recalls your pulse under his teeth. The taste of your flesh as his teeth left bloody love bites in every wrong place. He remembers saying I love you, albeit there was more to it than that. It had started with I love you and ended with every truth he'd forgotten how to tell. He had shed his human masquerade, in the hope of finding true love. You had screamed that night. You had screamed every night since.

Neuvillette thumbs through his memories. As the rain outside grows more ferocious. He remembers you standing by the sea, he remembers you telling him the phobias that ran deeper than blood.

You hadn't been from Fontaine, not originally. A fallen gear from an ancient automaton whose kin resided across the sea.

You'd been raised in the ways of the hydro court. Even if 'raised; was too generous a word. Morphed or sculpted may have been more appropriate synonyms. You grew up clawing at your own skin, trying to find who was underneath the layers of mindless expectations. You'd been raised as a lady and grew into a harrowing beast that feasted on the stars.

Yet even creatures of unparalleled strength had their weaknesses. Even ever-blessed vision wielders bore a certain Achilles heal.

Yours so happened to be your incompatibility with your foster nation. Or rather with the water itself.

When people asked, as some had tended to do. You'd weaved them tales about serrated Pisces and dorsal-finned leviathans with open maws awaiting their prey. You don't tell them about the vastness, the dark blue landscape that feels all too wide and all too endless. You don't tell them about the things you swore you've seen lurking beneath the infinite waters of Fontaine. And you most certainly leave out the parts about the creature who engraved fear upon your bones many moons ago before you even knew how to walk.

Neuvillette remembers your eagerness to leave. That had, ultimately, been your bonding point. He'd been an outcast. The supreme justice was ever only relevant when he upheld the law. And whilst Supreme Justice Neuvillette was revered and adored by all. Plain Neuvillette was nothing more than a shadow of evaporated water that hunted the streets of Fontaine. You had never wanted to mingle with the people. Keeping everyone at arm's length. Maybe it was fate that had brought two lonely souls together all those moons ago. Maybe it was something else.

He had loved you. He swears it on the Hydro archon ( or any other Archon who lacks Furina's fickleness) He'd tried to show you that the waters of Fontaine meant you no harm. He'd even shown you his true form, the utmost assurance. Maybe that's why you fled. Maybe that's why you'd left him heartbroken one morning when the sun didn't rise.

It had rained that day. As well as the following days. Until the surrounding islands ceased to exist.

You'd left him hollow and alone.

Yet your return made the cracks in his heart fester.

Neuvillette had taken it upon himself to cloak you in his watchful gaze.

He'd come to notice how you and that dreadful Fatui Harbinger you'd come to associate yourself with. Rather liked taking long walks

where the sea kissed the shore. He'd also noticed a ring of Snezhnaya Alexandrite perpetually wrapped around your finger.

Neuvillette's footsteps are heavy as they collide with the concrete. He's closer today. So close he can practically smell the scent of citrus and eucalyptus. If he reached out with his powers he could surely touch you, feel the warmth of your body bleeding into him, just like old times. He misses you, yet a part of him pities your return. Neuvillette's grey eyes follow your desolate gaze. It rips open one too many wistful wounds.

"So then Teucer said...Hey darling are you listening?"

Childe's eyes follow your frozen glare, tracing your line of sight straight to the menacing waters that refuse to part from your side. You hear your lover mumble a faint 'right'. Before you feel his silk-clad fingers dance across the back of your neck. Flirting with the chilling fear that rolls off you in waves. You pin your body to him, finding comfort in the familiar scent of his cologne as you bury your head in his neck.

"I'm truly sorry for this darling" Sincerity rolls off his tongue, percolating into the tender kiss he presses to your temple. "I've just been feeling...down lately. Like this inexhaustible sadness is going to swallow me whole. Fontaine was the only place I could convince the Tsaritsa to transfer me for a short while. I just, I need a break from it all." You answer him in a low melodic hum. You get it, truly you do. Sadness is a poison, acidic in nature. It engulfs one's soul. Melting away their purpose, their resolve. Eating away until it reaches their hearts, their desires. It leaves behind empty shells and broken pieces too fragile to ever fully mend.

Who better than you to understand the pains of being soulless, bereft? A mere shell awaiting a miracle that had died long ago.

There's a voice, carved from velvet and silk. It rolls across you like a tidal wave. Potent yet soft. It whispers your name and calls out in hopes of mending broken hearts. You turn to look behind you. All you see is the endless sea.

It's only on the fourth day of your visit that Neuvillette permits you to see him. Actually, see him. It's no longer his ghost that haunts you nor the empty waves that he commands beckoning you by name. It's him, really him. His glare is relentless as he leaves a prolonged kiss on your knuckles. You're in the middle of a conversation with that dreaded harbinger. Something about his older sister wishing to take to shopping upon your return to Snezhnaya.

"My darling it's been all too long, how fare thee my-"

He's cut short, how rude. Yet far be it from him to expect proper mannerisms from the Fatui.

"Hey, I'm having a conversation with my betrothed. Don't interrupt." Childe's eyes morph into his own glare. One which promises blood and violence. The fates of those caught on the other end of said glare are never pleasant.

"As the chief justice of Fontaine, I have to right to interrupt any conversation I see fit."

Despite yourself, you let out a laugh. Choke the fear down with a cup of Fonta and ask Neuvillette to join the two of you. It's the nostalgia talking really. Some remnants of the past collide with the present causing your heart to adopt an unsteady rhythm.

It's after that event that Neuvillet permits his presence to be seen by you and your "lover". He's always a mere breath away, following under the guise of being a gracious "tour guide". But tour guides do not wrap their arms around a lady's waist when her fiance isn't looking. Nor do they sneak kisses behind open parasols. You haven't protested about any of this. Maybe your fear of the hydro dragon has perished, replaced with a yearning for your former lover. He prays to every star in Tyvat for this to be true.

It's on the day of your departure that you receive the bad news in the form of an army of Gardemeks. Childe is being arrested, something about a serial disappearance case. Something about a trial. It's a ruse you feel it in your bones. Neuvillette personally appears at the docks and holds you in his arms as you weep. He assures you this will all be cleared up soon. That you have nothing to fear.

But you do, you have all so much to fear. Neuvillette permits you to stay at his house whilst the trial takes place. He traces the shimmering blue of your veins with his lips. He says he loves you, that he refuses to let you slip from between his fingers ever again. He'll keep you here. Keep you safe. Away from the Fatui.

Away from Ajax.

How he wishes he could tear the universe apart with his teeth. Part the oceans and bury the two of you under it. He dreams of keeping you by his side away from everyone else. Neuvillette is the chief justice of Fontaine, it's a prestigious role, one that demands trust. Yet maybe, just this once. He'll have to find the accused guilty regardless of the evidence.

Tag list: @rebeccawinters @fangirl-katwithclaws @starshiningsirius

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yandere-toons · 5 months

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Matthew Patel

Romantic Headcanons – Yandere

WARNING: violence, death, implied stalking, mentions of religious concepts, toxic mindset.

From the moment you invite Matthew into your life, he will carry that memory to his deathbed. The bond you forged that day is unbreakable and immortal for him: he will go blind to all other reasons for living, consumed with rage at your absence, and ecstatic at any sign of your favour.

Talk of other suitors sends Matthew into a frenzy from which he will not emerge until this obstacle to his happiness is laid low. Dispute over the value of certain traits leaves Matthew resentful—of himself for not being better, of the other person for possessing what he lacks, and of the universe for cursing him with such horrid luck.

When such a person speaks your name, Matthew is driven by his own insecurities to loathe them. The sound of their voice becomes like a cheese grater to his ears, a reminder of how close he is to losing his world for the second time, and from thence into a sound he will fight to the death to silence.

The look of this person, particularly when they light up at the mere mention of you and receive such a look in kind, is a ghastly thing. Matthew's takeaway is one of doubt and bad memories, of all the similarities to Ramona's waning interest that he had been too immature and inattentive to rectify. He vows not to make the same mistake twice.

Seemingly overnight, Matthew transforms from a brooding presence lurking in your shadow to a wellspring of offers to solve even the smallest of issues. He makes a habit of dropping to one knee and delivering a Pagliacci-esque soliloquy about how deep his affection runs, professing that you've become his whole world and that to lose you would leave him with nothing.

Despite your promise not to "betray" him, as Matthew so graciously puts it, he fears it would be a mistake to let his guard down. He believes you were sincere at the time, but Ramona's flippant attitude has left him anxious that you may change your tune and turn your back on him for no apparent reason.

For years, Matthew sought answers as to why she hurt him: on bad days, he blames her for playing with his emotions; on worse days, he blames himself for not trying hard enough to become someone she wanted. Now that he has another shot at human connection, this earth will burn before it slips away from him.

Matthew's actions arise from a peculiar sense of justice: he views himself as retribution sent down upon all those who have wronged you. By daring to replace him, their way of looking after you is inherently and unforgivably flawed. Someone who could, in reality, be quite decent will devolve in his mind into a parasite who takes advantage of you.

Whether they are cruel or kind-hearted, what obsesses Matthew and keeps him stewing for potentially years is the notion that they've robbed him of his one chance at happiness. So long as they keep you company, he sees his future darkening.

What should be a private affair, Matthew turns into a spectacle: he takes to the stage in his most flamboyant attire and declares war, goading his enemy to meet their doom at his hand. Everything, from the venue to the battle itself, is a power play, a performance art in which he displays his prowess for all to admire and envy.

Once he has struck the first blow, there is no version of events where Matthew shows mercy or admits defeat. The harder they fight, the prouder he is to butcher them. Their death will be a triumph, a testament to the fact that he is strong enough to win this war. Anyone who rolls over in the face of his challenge must not be truly committed to you and therefore deserves to feel his wrath for stringing you along.

Coming to over the shiny remains of his enemy, Matthew forgets his rage and revells in the thought of having the sole being who brings him happiness. Ready to pick up where he left off and confident he's earned that right, Matthew throws himself at you and proclaims how thrilled he is to be together again.

Matthew struggles to move beyond the past and to envision a future where he is alone. Having spent much of his life pursuing others, Matthew has no concept of living for himself. He stakes his survival on the volume of applause at the end of every performance, and in the home environment, his tendency to cling to petty recognition has taken root in all interactions.

This emotional hunger reveals itself in the unnecessary extremes to which Matthew proves his devotion, convinced that the obsequious nature of his company and continual sacrifices gives them meaning. He jumps at every opportunity to be near you, no exceptions, afraid that missing even one will be termed neglect and spell the ruin of his life with you.

At his best, Matthew is an unrelenting thespian who serenades you with ballads and calligraphic poetry. But at his worst, he is an unstable and violent creature full of pent-up rage, who conspires with Daemonettes to bind your soul to his, making it virtually impossible to give him up for another.

Do anything you want with my work, but never make me boring!

#Matthew Patel #Scott Pilgrim #Scott Pilgrim vs the World #Scott Pilgrim Takes Off #Imagines #Reader Insert #Yandere #X Reader #Yandere x Reader #Yandere Imagines #Yandere x You #Yandere Headcanons #Gender Neutral Reader #Scott Pilgrim x Reader #Matthew Patel x Reader #Yandere Scott Pilgrim #Yandere Matthew Patel #Yandere Writing #Fanfiction

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reginaphalange2403 · 6 months

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Never Again

Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Summary: Despite an intense dislike for one another, you and Bucky begrudgingly get paired together for a mission. You’re forced to look past your differences when things so south.

Warnings: Canon level violence, asshole Bucky (at first), enemies to lovers vibes, other mcu characters make appearances. Word count: 6.1k

a/n: AHHHH my first fic in like 6 months! this is also the first time I've ever written for Bucky or written anything like this. It was a lot of fun and I hope I did him justice lol. Enjoy!

The loud hissing of the Keurig was a rude awakening to your 7am start to the day. Unfortunately, Steve had decided to hold a team conference meeting at 8. Why he chose to annoy you all like this, you weren’t sure.

“Are you fucking done yet?” You instantly recognized the deep, rough voice muttering under his breath behind you. Bucky had his arms folded and was impatiently waiting for you to finish up at the machine so he could make his own cup.

“Already have a stick up your ass today, huh Barnes?” You spit back at him before moving to let him use the Keurig.

“Well, I wouldn’t have one if you weren’t the first thing I saw when I came down the stairs.”

Damn. That stung. “Have you ever been nice for once in your life? Or is being a dick just a permanent part of your personality?”

At your words, Bucky looked up at you and feigned offense “Oh, I’m nice” He assured you in an almost sweet tone, before turning cold again “…to people that deserve it.”

You rolled your eyes at him, muttering a ‘whatever’, and left the kitchen to go take a seat in the conference room. Unfortunately, that wasn’t an atypical conversation for you to have with Bucky. Ever since you had joined the team almost a year ago - at Natasha Romanoff’s request - Bucky had been anything but welcoming. At first, you thought it was just friendly banter, him trying to sarcastically intimidate you, but it was clear by now that he genuinely had a deep distaste for you.

Soon enough, everyone else started to file in for the meeting. Nat smiled as she took the seat next to you, her regular spot, and quietly started asking you about your morning. Bucky was the last one to enter the room, and by that point the only seat left was the one on your other side.

He glared at you as he sat down.

“It’s not my fault you’re always late to these things” You quipped under your breath.

“Don’t push it, sweetheart” Bucky frustratingly muttered, and you quickly opened your mouth to reply before Natasha interrupted,

“Don’t bother with him, Y/N. He’s always a grump in the mornings”

‘No, he’s always a grump to me’ you thought to yourself, but kept your mouth shut.

“Good Morning, everyone” Steve finally got started with the meeting, a cheery grin on his face that was all too happy for 8am, in your opinion.

“As you all know, for months now we’ve been trying to track down where exactly Ian Haverford and his men have been setting up camp and operating their illegal activities” Most recently, the team had been working on taking down a group of rouge scientists. They had somehow been creating and using a serum that was similar to the super soldier serum. A antidote that made them have increased strength, speed and agility. They then used their new enhancements to rob and kill storeowners, evade the police, and then subsequently sell the drugs and weapons that they had stolen.

“We’ve finally located their compound, up in rural Virginia, we-“

“What he meant to say was I located their compound in Virginia” Tony cheekily butt in.

Steve sighed, having to stop his own eye roll, “Fine, yes, Tony located the compound. Anyway, as I was saying…We believe that that’s where they’re making the serum. The sooner we go in, the less time they have to continue using the serum and giving it to more people. Now, I didn’t necessarily think this was a task we all needed to partake in. It really only requires two people to take down Haverford and gather intel on what chemicals they’ve been using”

Steve took a big breath before revealing who he had assigned to the mission, knowing he’d have hell to pay, “Y/N and Bucky will be heading to Virginia tomorrow morning-“

“Are you serious Rogers?!” You immediately confronted Steve’s decision as you heard Bucky next you,

“You’ve got to be kidding me” He mumbled, clearly as annoyed as you were.

Steve put his hands up defensively, “I know the two of you don’t always get along, but I was hoping this assignment would allow you to work together and actually have to interact beyond your bickering”

You had never been on a mission with just Bucky before. Of course, the two of you had been on missions with the rest of the avengers together, but never just the two of you.

Steve continued, “Besides, we need someone who’s a super soldier to infiltrate the compound. Bucky has the strength and speed to match that of Haverford’s people. And Y/N, you also have enhancements, it makes sense to send the both of you in together.” He concluded by basically saying his decision was final, and that you and Buck would be leaving on a quinjet first thing tomorrow.

During your years in the red room, you had been injected with various substances and drugs that over time had enhanced your agility, flexibility, reflexes and even your sight. But you didn’t see how that made you a necessary aspect to this assignment. You were sure Steve was just using that as an excuse, he really just wanted you to get along better with Bucky.

Speaking of which, Buck stood up from his chair as you looked over at him, he glowered at you for a moment before scoffing, “Guess I’ll just have to grin and bear it” and with that he left the room.

You stayed, waiting for everyone else to file out so that you could speak with Steve privately. Natasha gave you a sympathetic look and squeezed your shoulder, as she was the last one to head out after talking to Steve for a while herself. You were always sort of jealous of their friendship. Of course, you had Nat. Who was your closest confidant in the group. But you also wanted to be close with the guys as well. You supposed Steve was your friend, but sometimes it felt like he looked at you as more of a younger sister.

Finally, it was just you and Steve alone in the room and you were still sitting in your same seat, Steve standing at the head of the table. He tilted his head towards you and quirked his eyebrows, waiting for you to say something.

“Why does he hate me?” You asked quietly. You had always wanted to go to Steve for advice on how to handle Bucky, but never wished to cause a rift in their friendship or make Steve feel like he was put in the middle of something.

His eyes went soft and he sighed, “Oh Y/N” He began gently “I know it may come off that way, but Buck doesn’t hate you. He just…” Steve looked to find the right words, “has a hard time handling his emotions and how he feels about people… especially people that bring up past trauma for him”

Steve’s little hint helped you clue in to what he was trying to imply. You knew that Bucky had a history with the red room, long before you ever did, but you never really knew the details of it or how he was involved. You were saved from Dreykov almost a year ago when Natasha returned to destroy him. You were one of Yelena’s closest friends and she had introduced you to Nat, who then saw how skilled you were and decided to invite you to join the avengers, since you really had no other home to go to. Yelena meanwhile, had wanted to enjoy her freedom a little more and chose to see the world a bit before deciding to join any sort of vigilante team. Though Natasha always held out hope that she would finally join one day when she felt ready.

“But Nat’s from the red room too!” You defended yourself, “And Bucky treats her perfectly fine! It’s not my fault that my past is what it is. I can’t help the fact that I was raised there, why does he have to hold that against me?” You started to get emotional and Steve could tell, so he began to try and explain his friends behavior.

“Well, he’s gotten to know Natasha for a few years now, so I think they’re on better terms. Plus he kinda owes her one for how she saved both our asses during the whole…sokovia accords thing” Steve said the last part quietly while sort of shamefully looking down. Despite the fact that it was worked out now, that whole incident with him, Tony and Bucky still deeply bothered Steve to even bring up.

He continued after a moment, “He doesn’t hold it against you Y/N, it’s not your fault. He just doesn’t like the memories you bring up for him, the things you remind him of. And he doesn’t know how to properly process and work through them, so instead he just takes out that pent up anger and self hatred on you. It’s not fair to you, but it’s also not your fault.”

“Get him to see a therapist then” you muttered.

Steve scoffed, “Believe me, I’ve tried.”

He then walked around the length of the table to where you were sitting and gave you a pleading look, “Just give him a chance. Hopefully this mission will be the thing that finally gets him to see you in a different light. I know it’s hard to believe, but he really does have a sweet, soft side under all that brooding, if you dig deep enough” And that was what Steve left you with as he walked out, leaving you alone to mull over what he had said.

———————

For the rest of that day, you and Bucky both avoided each other. You spent most of the afternoon locked up in your room or in the gym, perfecting a few moves with Nat’s help in preparation for your assignment. You didn’t see Bucky all day, you assumed he also was doing his best to not run into you.

Now, you were seated across from him on the quinjet, an awkward silence taking up the majority of the ride to a rural part of Virginia. He barely even looked at you for the entire 2 hour flight. Mostly staring down at his hands with airpods in, or having his head tilted back and eyes closed. As you neared the end of your trip, jet about to touch down, you noticed Bucky finally didn’t have headphones in, so you decided it would be a good time to set some things straight before you literally went into battle with him.

Cautiously, you spoke up, “Look, I know we don’t necessarily see eye to eye but we really need to-“

He cut you off sharply “Once we touch down I’ll take the northeast side of the compound and you can take the south side. They apparently keep their lab in a big room on the south side, so you head that way and ransack the lab while I take down Haverford, who’s quarters are up in the north end. Got it?” Not even listening to what you had tried to say, Bucky simply started barking out a game plan at you.

“Sure, but I was saying that we-“

Bucky sighed dramatically, “Look Y/N, we just need to do our damn jobs and get this over with. Alright?”

“But Steve said-“

“I don’t care what Steve said.” He snapped, “I’m not here to make nice.”

And with that, you sat in silence again for the last few minutes of the flight. The quinjet landed in an open forrest area, roughly a 10 minute walk away from where Haverford’s compound was supposed to be. Of course, you couldn’t land right next to it without risking them hearing and giving yourselves away. So, you and Bucky began the short trek to the complex, once again in complete silence the whole way there.

Finally, you arrived upon a large monster of a building. It took up almost the entirety of the empty field that it occupied, with no windows around it whatsoever. To anyone else, it looked like from the outside to be just an eery abandoned building. You and Buck snuck around to the backside where a hatch door was used to get into the lower level of the building.

“When we’re done,” Bucky finally spoke for the first time in over 15 minutes “How about we meet up back here at this door, so that we can leave asap and not waste time trying to find each other in this fucking maze. Good?”

You swallowed, remembering the “plan” Bucky had laid out earlier on the jet. You really didn’t feel right about splitting up with him. The compound was massive and neither of you had ever navigated it before. Sure, Steve had shown you a basic floor plan of it and talked about where he believed they were making the serum, but that was it. You didn’t know your way around this territory, and you didn’t know what Haverford’s men were like. And on this mission, it was just you and Buck. You didn’t have the other avengers around to look out for you, or be your eyes and ears over the comms.

“Bucky, I don’t know if we should separate. This place is big.” You finally admitted.

“It’s nothing you can’t handle” He grumbled out, which should have sounded like a compliment but came out as more of something to shut you up and get on with it.

“But what if one of us gets injured or can’t find our way back to the door?” You asked, embarrassed to be admitting your nerves to him. Bucky could see for a moment that you were genuinely anxious about this.

“We have the comms in our ears,” He began in a slightly softer tone than he had ever spoken to you before, “If you need help, just talk to me. I’ll be in your ear the whole time”

You nodded, still a little worried but trying not to show it.

“Splitting up is the fastest way to do this. And the faster we get this done, the less time we have to spend together.” Ah, there was the Bucky you knew. Back to making jabs at you. That was the last you spoke before he broke the door open and you were in.

—————————

As discreetly as possible, you made your way through the compound, quietly trying to get to the south wing without being heard or seen. Steve said that they most likely were keeping their lab in the largest room in the building, which supposedly should be through the last door on the south side. As long as you could find it, get the records and evidence that you needed, and get back to the exit in time to meet Bucky, you’d be fine.

You could hear Bucky through the comms, sounds of grunting and punching obviously coming from him fighting Ian Haverford’s men that he had come into contact with.

“Looking for something princess?” You immediately stopped in your tracks at the sound of a deep sinister voice snarling at you. Whipping around, you saw one of Ian’s goonies standing just a few feet from you.

Instantly he charged at you, but it was nothing you hadn’t ever dealt with. Before he could grab you, you took hold of his arm and twisted it behind his back, affectively turning his entire body away from you. Then, using the Widow’s Bite armor that were around your wrists, you tased him in the neck, causing him to fall completely unconscious.

It was then that you realized you had made it to the end of the hallway, and thus the last door which was supposed to be their lab. Prepared for men to potentially be in there, you unholstered one of your firearms, and promptly kicked down the door.

To your shock, the room had no occupants. You quickly reached over to find a light switch, and what you saw next was infuriating. It indeed was Ian Haverford’s lab. Full of tables and stations that held different mixed drugs and chemicals that he was using to create his own super soldier serum, one that he then used on himself and his accomplices. You also saw a station that was entirely made up of a large desktop connected to multiple computers.

You started to make your way towards the computers so that you could plug in your hard-drive and collect the data that would supply the team with how Haverford had been making the serums. But before you could get there, a white, powdery substance started to sprits down from what looked like emergency sprinklers that were on the ceiling. The substance reeked like chemicals, similar to that of bleach but not as strong. You began to cough a little, trying to wipe the shit out of your face and eyes. You had no idea what the fuck it was or what it might possibly do to you.

“Bucky” you half coughed half called his name into the comms, “Bucky something happened”

“What?” He grunted out, clearly still in the middle of fighting someone.

“I just got sprayed with some kind of white powder stuff. I don’t know what it was. It must have been part of some kind of booby-trap that they had on the lab, since I kicked their door in, it went off.”

“Are you okay?” Bucky immediately asked, seeming genuinely worried.

“Yeah I mean, nothings happened yet, I’m still fine. But-“

“I’m a little busy Y/N, if you’re fine for now, just get the data from the lab and head out fast. I don’t have time to keep talking” he quickly rattled off to you, and you heard a loud scream coming from a guy that Bucky obviously just injured.

You swallowed, still very nervous about whatever the hell just happened to you, but you didn’t want to distract Bucky any further and potentially get him hurt, “Alright. On it.”

Plugging the hard-drive into the main desktop, you waited patiently as thousands of files started to download from Haverford’s database. As you stood there and waited, an annoying, high pitched ringing began to go off in your ears. At the same time, your vision slowly started to blur slightly, as if you were wearing the wrong prescription glasses. A lump formed in your throat and your heart practically dropped into your stomach, you hated to admit it, but this was deeply scaring you. You’d never been poisoned before.

You rubbed your eyes, hoping maybe it would help, but nothing happened, the blurriness just got worse. On top of that, your head started to pound, most likely due to the loud obnoxious ringing. It was the powder, you knew it had to be. What else would just suddenly start causing all this?

“Y/N? You still good?” You heard Bucky ask through the comms, clearly still preoccupied with something else but wanting to check on you.

You debated telling him about your symptoms. You were teammates, he should know. But on the other hand, It was just a few mostly mild symptoms, and the files were almost finished downloading anyway. You’d grab the hard-drive, run out of the compound and meet him in just a few minutes. You could make it until then. Plus, you didn’t wish to further annoy or distract him from fighting.

“Yeah. Still good!” You tried to sound as enthusiastic and convincing as possible. It must have worked, because he didn’t question you further.

Standing over the counter, still waiting for the files to be done, you leaned over the table a bit and made the idiotic decision to close your eyes for just a second, trying to relieve the headache.

A moment later, you felt a sharp, intense fiery pain in your abdomen as someone reached from behind you choking your neck and thrusting a knife into your stomach. You were paralyzed for just a second with fear, not even able to cry out. The ringing in your ears was so bad, you must not have heard anyone come in.

Trying to ignore the pain, you instinctively kicked your right leg back hard, hitting the man in the groin and causing him to fall to the ground. However, on his way down, he didn’t miss the chance to slash you in the calve with the knife he had been holding. The stab was so quick you could only gasp in pain. A gasp Bucky must not have heard as he was fighting his own battles.

Turning around, you fumbled for your firearm for a moment before finally getting it out and being able to pull the trigger, sending a bullet right through his chest. Stumbling backwards a bit, you started to feel lightheaded and you were reminded of the red hot pain in your stomach. You placed a hand over the side the feeling was coming from, and immediately felt a sticky hot liquid coat your fingers.

You didn’t have time however to investigate the stab wound, because as you glanced up, you could see through your blurry vision that 3 more men were walking in through the kicked down door.

Lazily raising your gun again, gripping the table to keep from toppling over, you aimed as best you could, with ringing ears, blurred vision and now two stab wounds. Thankfully, your training in the red room had taught you how to aim with even a blindfold on, and with a few quick shots, the men were taken down, now lying limply on the ground in front of you.

Bucky heard the gunshots through the comm, but since you never called his name or made a noise that would indicate you needed help, he assumed you had it under control.

You let the gun fall from your hand, now that you were alone and for now, out of danger, you were finally able to feel the extent of your injuries as the adrenaline wore off. Ever so slowly, you peered down at your stomach and saw that the hand you’d been holding there was almost entirely now coated in blood. Without meaning to, you fell to your knees, which then painfully reminded you of the other deep wound in your calve. However, you were so tired, and the loss of blood was making it hard to do anything other than focus on breathing.

You knew you needed to alert Bucky. You couldn’t just lie here and wait, you didn’t have that kind of time.

“Bu-Buck” you whimpered, trying to be loud enough that the comm would pick it up. But even just trying to talk was proving to be exhausting. You knew you were losing what was probably a lot of blood. Wet hot tears started to roll down your face, you were dangerously close to just giving in to the blood loss induced exhaustion and closing your eyes.

——————

Bucky, meanwhile, had finished taking down the men on the other half of the facility and was waiting for you outside at the spot you’d both agreed you would meet. He spoke over the comms, “I took down Haverford and his men. I’m out here now. Hurry up.” Short and to the point. How he always was with you.

Immediately, more tears welled in your eyes at hearing his voice. You were desperate, in pain, and exhausted. Despite having a deep distaste for Bucky, you knew you needed him. You needed him to come and find you. You didn’t have enough strength to speak, but luckily the sound of his voice finally brought your own voice back and you mustered up a deep, pathetic and painful whine from the back of your throat…and it was enough to be caught over your ear piece.

He stood there for a few minutes, getting antsy. Especially since he didn’t hear fighting noises over comms, he assumed you were just taking your sweet time making it back to him.

After a bit of waiting he sighed, grumbling “C’mon Y/N, what the fuck could you possibly-“

His complaining ceased as soon as he heard your one singular cry through the comm. Bucky’s eyes went wide, heart dropping into his stomach. He’d never heard a sound like that come out of you before.

“Y/N?” He called your name in an almost scared tone, “Are you okay?”

No response.

Bucky swore under his breath, “I’m coming, just hang on” he made that promise to you like it was an oath, and raced back inside the building.

Sprinting to the side of the compound that you were tasked with handling, Bucky searched frantically through the hallways, popping his head into every room trying to find you….until he did.

You laid there, blood seeping across your shirt and a pool of it surrounding your one injured leg. The men that you had disarmed and killed were sprawled out around you.

After his initial shock wore off, Bucky ran to you, kicking one of the dead arms dealers out of the way to get to you. He dropped to his knees, eyes scanning your wounds.

“Oh, Y/N” He whispered with guilt and sorrow dripping from his tone. A million emotions flashed across his face. Including anger at the men who had attacked you, but mostly at himself for allowing this to happen.

You looked up at him, meeting his eyes, and the tears finally flowed freely now. Aside from the pain, you were relieved. Despite you’re not getting along, in this moment you wanted nothing more than for Bucky to hold you, and tell you everything was going to be just fine.

“Okay” he whispered in a stunned tone, trying to calm both you and himself down. His hands hovered over your body as he took in your wounds and decided what he needed to do.

“Okay, alright.” That time, it came out more sure, “It’s alright, doll. Just keep breathing for me.” He tried to comfort you as he whipped out his phone and let Tony and the team know they needed medical there immediately.

Bucky then swallowed, giving you a remorseful look for what he was about to do.

“Okay sweetheart,” he began tenderly, as he took off the black jacket he had on, and then promptly ripped the sleeve of it off with his metal arm.

“I’m gonna have to tie this around your leg to stop the bleeding. It might hurt a bit, but I gotta do it” He gently explained what he needed to do, waiting to see a sign in your eyes that at least you understood. You gave him a very weak nod, and that was all he needed to then wrap the sleeve tightly around your upper calf.

He was right, it did hurt. But it wasn’t anything you hadn’t expected or weren’t prepared for. However, you believe Bucky only told you about having to wrap your leg, in order to half distract you from what he did next.

A blinding, nauseating pain quickly overcame you as he took the rest of the jacket he had, and with his metal arm and half his body weight, pressed it over your abdominal wound.

You immediately cried out and instinctively reached for Bucky’s arm, trying to push him away.

“Shhh, I know, I know baby” Bucky, who almost sounded pain-stricken himself with guilt, began to hush you, “I know it hurts, but I have to, I have to” He grabbed your hand that had tried to push him away, and let you squeeze the life out of his own as he continued applying pressure. His thumb softly grazed your knuckles, trying to soothe you.

While continuing to comfort you, Bucky began to look around as if he expected someone else to also come to your aid. It was then that he realized he’d need to get you out of the building in order to get you onto the quinjet. There was no way the medical team would be able to find their way around in here to get to you in time. And he could see that you’d already lost a lot of blood, and even with the tourniquet and pressure he applied, you were still losing some.

He took a breath, staring into your eyes with a serious yet remorseful look on his face, “Ok doll, I’m gonna have to pick you up and carry you out, but we can’t let up pressure on your wound” he explained, “So, I’m gonna need your help.”

Bucky then took the hand of yours that he was holding and gently guided it over to your abdomen. Lifting the jacket, he placed your hand over your own wound, you whimpered a little at the contact. Bucky swallowed, “I know doll, but I need you to put pressure on it like I was, okay? Can you do that for me?” He looked at you pleadingly, praying that you understood what he was saying.

Having to bite your own lip to keep from crying out again, you started to press down on your stomach with the little strength you still had. Bucky could tell you were trying by your obvious change in facial expression, “That’s it. Just like that, that’s my girl” he praised, quickly swiping one of your tears away. It wasn’t a lot of pressure, but it would do.

Ever so gently, trying to avoid hurting your injured leg, Bucky gracefully slipped his arms underneath you and scooped you up, holding you close to his chest. You moaned a little at the shift in movement, “Shhh, I got you doll. I got you” he whispered into your hair as you shoved your face in the crook of his neck.

He quickly made his way back out of the compound with you in his arms, thanking god when he saw the medevac quinjet was already out there waiting for you guys. Bucky tenderly laid you down on the stretcher, taking hold of your hand again as soon as he was able.

“She was poisoned with something and then stabbed in her lower left calve and left quadrant of her abdomen” He immediately started rambling off what had happened to the medical team and Dr. Cho.

“Poisoned with what?” Someone asked, he didn’t see who it was cause he wasn’t taking his eyes off of you.

“I- I don’t know.” Bucky admitted, “I think she said it was white and powdery, I can’t remember.” Internally, he was kicking himself so hard for not having immediately ran to you when you told him about the poison. He shouldn’t have just written you off and told you to deal with it. He shouldn’t have done a lot of things.

Bucky sat on the little bench in the quinjet right next you, still holding your hand, while the team got to work on your injuries. Technically, he should have been sitting at the front of the jet, out of their way, but no one was going to tell an upset Bucky Barnes what to do.

As they began working your leg, removing the tourniquet and getting a shot of lidocaine ready to numb the area, you saw them preparing the syringe out of the corner of your eye. You begin to hyperventilate, letting out a small whimper of fear. You hated all things medical, which stemmed from a deep rooted fear that dated back to your red room days. After years of being practically experimented on and shot up with god knows what, you didn’t particularly love the sight of needles. Even if you knew you were in a safe environment.

Bucky, who was still diligently sitting right beside you, immediately recognized your anxious reaction. He too knew that fear all too well. While he didn’t like to admit it, his time as the winter solider and being left at the hands of hydra often caused him to have visceral reactions to medical paraphernalia.

“Hey, hey” he softly called to you as he gently held your chin and brought your face to meet his, “It’s alright doll, you don’t have to look down there. Just look at me. Right at me.” He held your eyes, squeezing your hand a little tighter to let you know he was there. “That’s it. Just keep looking at me, Y/N. I’m right here” And that’s how you eventually went unconscious, staring into Bucky’s eyes as he quietly shushed you and ran his hand through your hair.

——————

The harsh lights of the medical wing practically blinded you as you tried to let your eyes slowly adjust to your surroundings.

“Hey hon” you heard a soft voice coming from your right side, whom you instantly recognized as Natasha.

“Well there she is” another voice, coming from your left who you thought was Steve, spoke up, sounding relieved at the fact you were awake. Your suspicions were proven correct when Steve leaned over slightly into your line of view.

“Welcome back, Y/N” he smiled, clearly exhausted but delighted by your opened eyes.

Your voice came out raspy and weak as you spoke for the first time, “H-how long have I been out?”

Natasha grabbed a cup from off your bedside table and offered you some water as Steve answered you,

“About three days. They had to get the bleeding under control and repair a portion of your stomach that was perforated. They also gave you some antibiotics to combat whatever the hell it was you were poisoned with,” he explained, “they seem to be working though. Doc says as soon as you’re strong enough, you can finish recuperating in your own room” He ended his spiel with a smile, but there was still one question he hadn’t answered that you were desperate for.

“W-Where’s Bucky?” You wondered why he wasn’t here, as you didn’t see him next to Steve or Nat.

“He’s right here, Y/N” Steve motioned to the back of the room where you couldn’t see, but Bucky was standing in the corner, eyes red and sunken in like he’d been crying. He immediately picked his head up when he heard you mention him.

“He hasn’t left this room in three days” Steve whispered to you in a hushed tone, hoping Bucky couldn’t hear him.

Nat cleared her throat, “We’re just gonna go get some coffee” she looked at Steve and jerked her head towards the door, beckoning him to follow her. They both left, leaving you and Bucky to yourselves.

Slowly, Buck made his way over to your bed, taking the seat that Steve was just in.

He was almost fearful of what to say, surprised that you had even asked for him in the first place. He blamed himself entirely for what happened, and was positive that when you woke up, you’d want nothing to do with him. And he wouldn’t blame you.

“Hey doll” he croaked out, voice sounding strained, “How’re you feeling?”

You swallowed, “My stomach hurts, and I have a headache” you admitted, still in a bit of pain from your wound healing.

Bucky nodded, “Do you want me to get the doctor? They might be able to give you more pain meds.” He asked, wanting to make sure you were as comfortable as possible. You didn’t know, but for the past three days Bucky had remained diligently at your bedside, alerting medical staff of any slight change in vital signs or if he thought you were cold and needed more blankets. He’d only left a few brief times when Steve had to force him to go eat or use the bathroom.

You shook your head, “no, no I’m okay. Promise” You offered him a slight smile.

Bucky stared down at his hands for a moment before he spoke up again, “Y/N, I am so so so sorry. This never would’ve happened if I had just listened to you and not had us split up.” He spoke with such guilt and shame you almost felt bad for him, “I was so focused on my own agenda and being a dick to you, that I completely ignored when you needed help. I can’t even-“

“Buck,” you interrupted him, reaching over and grabbing his hand with the little strength you had, “this isn’t your fault. It’s the fault of the men who stabbed me. That’s it. No one else’s” As much as you knew he fucked up with the way he treated you, you certainly didn’t think he should have to take responsibility for you getting hurt.

“But if I had come as soon as you said you were poisoned, if I had just listened to you instead of choosing to be an asshole, you probably wouldn’t be in this hospital bed” he insisted, eyes getting watery.

“Well, you were an asshole, I’ll give you that.” You smirked at him, trying to get him to relax, “but you also saved my life.” Bucky looked up at you, “You tied the tourniquet which kept me from losing more blood, and then made sure I didn’t have a panic attack on the quinjet. You might have fucked up a little Bucky, but you certainly made up for it” you gave his hand a little squeeze.

For the first time since you went under surgery, Bucky smiled, “All the same, I’m never separating from you during missions ever again.”

You playfully rolled your eyes, “that sounds a little suffocating, don’t you think?”

He shook his head, “Nope. Not to me. Nothings ever happening to you while you’re under my watch again”

“Well if that’s the case,” you scooted over a little in the bed, “will you keep me warm before I freeze to death in here?” You were genuinely very cold and were hoping for someone to bring you another blanket, but you supposed having Bucky there would do.

He chuckled softly, “you got it.” Lowering the hospital bed rail, Bucky climbed in and laid down next you, pulling you up close to him with his arm around your shoulders.

He placed a brief kiss along your hairline, “get some rest, doll. I’ll be right here.”

————-

Taglist: @patzammit @dpaccione @fdl305 @gh0stgurl

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barns x y/n #bucky barnes #bucky barnes enemies to lovers #bucky barnes angst #bucky barnes fluff #Bucky Barnes x red room reader #bucky barnes x avenger!reader

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nerdofspades · 1 year

Text

Bruce looked at the pop-up on the Batcomputer's screen.

"Explain," he growled, glancing down at Tim.

"Not much to explain," Tim answered, pulling up lines of code. "It showed up ten seconds ago."

"I'm starting a full diagnostic," Barbara said, voice filtering through the speakers. "So far, I'm not seeing anything."

"And yet..." Time trailed off glancing at the window again. It had a video queued up to play and the words "IMPORTANT: PLEASE WATCH. DO NOT DELETE" in large text at the top.

"There's a new folder labeled 'a gift for Batman,'" Tim said. "Not something any of us made."

"Clearly."

"I'm still not finding any viruses, corrupted files, or spyware," Oracle said. "The new folder was programmed to stay in a hidden partition for a few days after it was placed. Then, obviously, the pop-up to catch our attention."

"Folder also has a text file named 'security notes,'" Tim said. "Maybe our new hacker is friendly?"

"It's starting to look like it," Oracle agreed. "The video is clean. It should be safe to watch."

Bruce sighed. "Then let's see what they've got for us."

The video opened with a dark room. The background hidden in shadows, while the foreground was well lit, letting them clearly see the tired teen in the center of the frame as he took a heavy swig from his mug before putting it down.

"Pulling up facial recognition."

He ran a hand through his messy black hair and then down his face, pinching his nose and hiding the bags under his blues eyes for a moment before he dropped his hand and finally looked at the camera.

"I really don't want to do this," he said, "but you need it." He glanced longingly off screen in the direction of the mug he'd put down.

"First of all, I think I should apologize for hacking you. Or asking my friend to, technically. I just. You need to know about this and I didn't know of another way to get it to you that would be secure.

"I did at least make him promise to make a record of how he got in so you can patch that.

"That out of the way... to business? I'm Danny Fenton, for the last year or so I have also been the hero Phantom in Amity Park. My parents are Jack and Maddie Fenton. They are ectobiologists and ghost hunters. While extremely biased and not actually that good at catching ghosts, their tech is easily the best in the business."

"That's a positive match."

"Running a search on Phantom."

"I- fucking shit." Danny put his head in his hands again, running them back through his hair before leaning back, almost collapsing into the chair.

"This kid has... gotten into some shit."

"Everyone knows you're the League's strategist, Batman. And. I'm strong enough. I can handle my problems, that's not what I'm worried about.

"It's been about a year and I've already been mind controlled once." Danny laughed. A dry, broken, almost desperate laugh. "And that was just some lowlife that wanted to rob jewelry stores. I'm still not worried about. It's not why I'm sending you this. The magic relic he used is broken and gone now."

"Well that explains one of his problems."

"The others?"

"An attempted kidnapping and fairly standard property damage. I want to see some footage of those fights before passing judgement."

"Even more standard given he doesn't seem to have a mentor. Batman, he was fourteen."

"No. I. I've seen a version of the future. One where I go mad. Where I snap. And the Justice League can't stop me.

"I don't know if I- he kills everyone. I don't know who, if anyone, makes it out. But it's not anyone that could really do much. I... I saw ten years after he- I snapped. Earth was little more than rubble and ash. Only one city was left holding out and it was about to fall- was falling when I got there.

"I've managed to change the time line. What broke him didn't happen here. But. I can't guarantee nothing ever could.

"So. Yeah. Next best thing is making sure you're prepared. All my powers. All my weaknesses. Everything I know of that could possibly hurt me. Schematics and blue prints for anything you could need to fight me, track me, keep me out, keep me contained. All nice and giftwrapped for your convenience.

"Uh... that's everything. Why is it always so awkward to end a video? Hopefully we never see each other? I guess? Pretty sure us actually meeting is gonna be a bad sign.

"You know what. I'm gonna turn this thing off now before I say something stupid."

"Batman, who's 'Phantom'?" Superman asked, glancing up from the Watchtower computer he was working at. "Aren't we supposed to vote on new members?"

Batman grunted. "He's not a member, just someone who understands the need for contingencies."

"You know what, I'm not gonna even ask."

"Probably for the best."

#dp x dc #bruce wayne #batman #danny phantom #dc #batman's contingincies #tim drake #barbara gordon

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g4rg0y1e · 7 months

Text

I’ve been thinking about Damian leaving his life in Gotham to become a bookstore owner in Amity Park, Illinois, like he met Danny in the league and they had an arranged marriage that the Batfam did not know about and Damian didn’t want them to know anyway so he just flat out left and made a new life for himself near his beloved.

Damian owns a bookstore/coffee shop (obviously) and they live in this apartment above the building and the Everlasting Trio find out about this new place in town called The Bird’s Nest and they decide to try it out but as soon as they walk in Danny hears Damian, in this customer service voice say, “Welcome to The Bird’s Nest, make yourself at home.” and he runs to the cashier and sees his lover and breaks down. Damian hears his ugly sobs and looks up in concern.

Upon seeing Danny he rushes over to comfort him and Danny immediately latches onto him and saying things like “I thought i’d never see you again” and “please be real, please” and Damian is like “i’m here, it's me, i’m so so sorry, Beloved.” and Tucker and Sam are like freaking out a little but seeing Damian hold Danny like that they decided to just hang back for a little bit while Danny calms down, and once he can breathe without stuttering and can speak without feeling like the world is ending they all sit down in a booth together and they explaining to Tucker and Sam how they know each other.

Tucker and Sam are like a little concerned about it but they’re like “it’s fine we knew each other since we were toddlers and we got to know each other pretty well in the 15 years before our marriage.” and so Damian and the Everlasting Trio start hanging out together a lot and they all start to fall in love :]

Meanwhile in Gotham

The Batfam are freaking the fuck out.

They’re frantically searching for Damian everywhere. They call Talia and ask her but she says she hasn’t seen him since his wedding which makes the Batfam panic even more because what wedding?? But she doesn’t say anything and they are confused but that’s not their concern so they contact the Justice League and get them involved like Robin is missing and we don’t know where he could be.

So the JL are like searching and they come up with nothing and they decide to get Justice League Dark involved like Robin’s missing what do we do? and JLD is like searching until they run out of other options and decide to summon the Ghost King Phantom and his Knight and Consorts

but they don’t know that the king has multiple consorts… Or that one of them is Damian… SO they summon them and the king looms over his knight as he covers his consorts with his cloak and Batman is like “please.. please, Great King Phantom… I need to find my child..” and the JL and JLD (that dont know their identities) are like omg does batsy think of rob as his child and the King is like “Who are you looking for?” and Batman is like “Robin…Damian Wayne.” and the king tilts his head then opens his cape and Damian walks out slowly like “oh shit I forgot to tell them that I was gonna make a whole new life for myself in an entirely different state.” and just goes “…heyyy.” and the Batfam starts freaking out like “Where have you been?!?” and Damian just goes “I was with my Beloveds.”

and the batfam is like

“…”

“BELOVEDS, MULTIPLE???”

#dp x dc #danny fenton x damian wayne #dead serious #danny fenton x damian wayne x tucker foley x sam manson #i hc that damian and sam are both enby and sam uses they/them pronouns and damian uses he/him and they/them #damian wayne #danny fenton #tucker foley #sam manson #batman #batfam #batpham #?#thats probably it #i might write more later

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fkinavocado · 6 months

Text

put a price on emotion

The Honourable Judge Styles has a dark secret. He prides himself on being notorious for his cutthroat sense of justice. But is he really any better than the ones he imprisons? Or is he a victim much like the ones he acquits?

Put a price on emotion - Masterlist, Author's Notes & Warnings / alternatively, read on wattpad

Prologue (word count: 1.1k)

“All rise. The court is now in session. Honourable Judge Styles presiding. Please be seated.”

The imposing man nodded to the bailiff and the other members of the courtroom as he took his seat at the bench. “Thank you, you may all be seated. Call the case.”

“Your honour, criminal case number 23234- People of Chicago, Illinois versus Grace Gwyneth Cohen for homicide.”

The judge did a quick scan of the courtroom as he opened up his notebook for his case notes, and landed his gaze on the defendant. She’d waived her right to a jury trial, which didn’t make any sense to him. It made much more sense for her to want a jury trial. Her chances of convincing that many more people of her innocence were exponentially higher than persuading the state’s notoriously cutthroat judge.

The man usually presided over hung jury cases. It was his expertise, mostly because he was known for being just and, yes, cutthroat. In all the cases he’d presided over, not once did he have even a shadow of a doubt over who was in the wrong. He’d always served justice, he was sure of it, and as much as he’d have liked to have his innate judge of character take all the credit for it, he had to admit he’d not been this attuned before.

It was hard to tell anymore, mainly because, well, it had been such a long time since… before. If anything, he could attest that he’d always had an affinity towards justice, doing the right thing, advocating for the right cause, but now, well, he could read right through the bullshit.

He could read people like open books.

As could all vampires.

So, really, it was nothing special. What was special, though, was that not all vampires chose to put these sharpened abilities to good use. The fact that he’d chosen to do so was still something mind boggling to his… community. But Harry couldn’t fathom just doing nothing for all eternity, like they did. Sure, after a couple hundred years everyone kinda gets tired of trying to spruce things up. But he’d done it all- tried everything in the book- and at one point, you just need to try and give your existence meaning. And this, judging, was a way he could put his abilities to good use, in a meaningful way, giving him a sense of purpose.

And that was pretty valuable when you were immortal.

And besides, he couldn’t lie; the added bonus of making humans squirm- particularly those that deserved to be crushed by the law- under his gavel, albeit metaphorically, was quite thrilling.

But most of all, he enjoyed ensuring a bit of balance in this unfair world- the world that chose this existence for him. He’d not chosen this for himself, after all. He was a victim. He’d suffered a great injustice, maybe the biggest of them all- he’d been robbed of his right of living a normal life. He’d been forced into immortality, and there was nothing he could do about it. No one to turn to, no one to give him justice. There simply wasn’t any. And that had always bothered him deeply.

Sure, they had a system. The vampire that had turned him did suffer some consequences. But, really, there wasn’t much you could do to an immortal being to make them really repent. It wasn’t like they were going to be put away for “life”. You couldn’t exactly incarcerate someone for all eternity. The prospect of a death penalty was more of a treat than a threat to most vampires. And so, outside of being ostracised by their community, which ensured an even lonelier existence, there wasn’t much else a vampire could fear in this afterlife. Most of them stayed within lines and regulations just so they wouldn’t have to face the rest of eternity alone, be it as it may in a state of the art manor and not some dingy prison cell.

So what had made this young woman waive her jury trial? Had she not heard of his reputation? Looking at her, he recognized she was an outspoken person, a very headstrong personality, from the way she didn’t seem to pay any attention to her lawyer.

He recognized the defence attorney. He was someone the state had provided the young woman with, so he wasn’t her own choice. Their body language told him all he needed to know. She was not going to heed her council’s advice. He wondered if the man knew it too, but if he had to guess he’d say he was suspicious of it at the very least.

This was going to be tricky, Harry thought to himself as he narrowed his gaze and decided to proceed.

“Is the accused in court?”

“Yes, your honour,” the bailiff announced.

“Alright, arraign the accused.”

The young woman was brought to the defence panel, the bailiff addressing her “You are the accused in the trial number 23234 entitled People of Chicago, Illinois versus Grace Gwyneth Cohen, and the information charges you of the crime of homicide committed as follows: that on the night of 27 of July, current year, in Chicago, Illinois, the above named accused, with intent to kill, did then and there, wilfully, unlawfully and feloniously attack, assault and employ personal violence upon the person of one Silvian Montgomery, by then and there stabbing him with a sharp silver switchblade on the right portion of his torso, thereby inflicting upon him a serious and mortal wound which was the direct and immediate cause of his untimely death as per the autopsy report conducted by the state appointed pathologist. Contrary to law. What is your plea?”

“Not guilty.”

“You will address the bench in doing so.”

The young woman cleared her throat and turned to face the judge who was watching her intently. She took a quick breath, meeting his icy glaze. “Not guilty, your honour.”

“The accused enters the plea of not guilty, your honour.”

The young woman rolled her eyes ever so slightly, muttering something about how she’d literally just said that. And she’d been subtle about it, but Harry was extremely observant. And his preternatural hearing capabilities didn’t hurt, either.

But he was willing to let it slide, because, well, he had an affinity for innocent people.

It felt a bit like cheating, this whole ordeal, a feeling he wasn’t accustomed to. Because he was about to preside over a case knowing the outcome from head start. He knew what his verdict would be. He knew before he’d even been assigned the trial.

Not guilty.

Chapter 1

A/N: well, well well. the day has finally come. i've been planning on this fic for over a year now! i was going to post the epilogue for halloween, but life got in the way. in a way i'm glad i didn't because, well, this isn't just another vampire fic to me. it's so much more than that. it's smutty (of course), it's angsty (duh, it's me), but honestly... for a guy whose heart stopped beating a long time ago Harry sure doesn't act like it. and as for the original main character this time around, Grace... well, we'll just have to discover her alongside Harry, won't we ❤️

beta'd by the lovely @adorebeaa ❤️

special bday gift for @freedomfireflies ❤️ btw the name i chose for the mc is coincidental 😅

💕 like & reblog if you’re enjoying this, lovelies, and most importantly, please come share your thoughts on it here 💌

🧛follow me on wattpad to get notified whenever i post something new/update!🧑‍⚖️

#harry styles smut #harry styles fanfic #harry styles fic #harry styles vampire #vamprry #judgerry #vampirerry #harry styles writing #harry styles judge #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles imagine #fanfiction #fanfic #harry styles #fkinavocado #prologue #put a price on emotion

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neonghostlights · 8 months

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Listen- listen carefully- okay?

okay so

Eddie, right? Eddie, with a tattoo artist crush??!! like cmon. The possibilities are endless!

how does he confess? What are their dates like? How do they spend quality time together? So many questions, not many answers. (Fem reader pls-) 🍋-

BESTIE. I AM HEARING YOU LOUD AND CLEAR. This is great. I love it. Readers a badass. Eddie’s in love. This is amazing. This is gonna end up being a two parter with the next chapter being their relationship once the relationship is established. Thank you! also, sorry it took me so long to write this ):

Warnings: Love at first sight, Tattooing, Pain, Blood, 18+ only

Wordcount: 2.1k

Rose

The bell attached to the shop door dinged when Eddie walked in. The floors were clean, polished. That was something he always checked when he walked into tattoo shops. Back in highschool he didn’t particularly care about the cleanliness of tattoos, just getting whatever he wanted etched into his skin in his buddies trailer. After seeing the outcome of a particularly nasty skin infection Gareth got one time that left his tattoo looking like a jumbled mess, Eddie cared a little more now.

Robin had begged him to stop by and check out her new job as a part time receptionist at the best (only) tattoo shop in Hawkins, Indiana. Eddie was a little surprised to see you here since he had seen your work done in one or two magazines before. You were somewhat of a celebrity in the tattooing world, having won quite a few awards for your art.

Steve had told him that Robin had been terrified to start here, since your reputation was well known. But after the first day she came home gushing about how great you were and insisted that Eddie swing by to meet you as soon as possible.

Low rock music played from a speaker in the corner of the room. Black leather couches and chairs surrounded a coffee table full of binders and magazines. Artwork, presumably yours, covered the walls top to bottom. Eddie usually drew up his own designs when getting work done but yours were so good that he wouldn’t mind having one of your pre-drawn designs placed on his body. He could smell the fresh paint still lingering in the air, telling just how recent the shop had been opened.

“Hey!” Robin greeted him from behind the clear glass counter. “Welcome!”

“Nice looking place,” Eddie said with a low whistle.

“Right,” she said with a fake whisper. “You think you want to get something done?”

“Nah, not today. I didn’t draw anything up.”

Robin rolled her eyes, knowing Eddie was picky about what he wanted done. She couldn’t blame him. She had an orange tattooed on her foot after a drunk spring break dare from Steve that looked more like a basketball.

“Hey, Rob?” Your voice broke out, muffled by the rock still playing on the radio. Eddie heard the sound of wheels rolling across the floor as you scooted your rolling chair out of the room you were working in and backing out into the hallway. “You wanna order some lunch?” You asked once you were fully in the hallway.

Eddie had seen a lot of attractive people before but none of them had made his heart stop quite the way you did.

“Oh, hi,” you said, startled to see Eddie standing there. “Were you looking to get something done?” You asked, standing from your chair and approaching him.

Eddie froze. All thoughts escaped his brain as you walked towards him. He could see the skin of your legs through your ripped jeans and Eddie had never thought a kneecap was so sexy before.

“This is my friend Eddie. He just came by to check out the shop. Right, Eddie?” Robin plucked his cheek to try to reboot him.

The magazines had never included your picture, but he wished they had so he wouldn’t be standing here like an idiot. He had a feeling that your picture printed on glossy paper wouldn’t do you any justice.

Eddie winced at the sharp sting of his cheek, rubbing at the stubble there.

“Hi,” was all he was able to croak out, sticking his hand out to you.

You smirked a knowing smirk at him that made him feel embarrassed from how obvious he was being. He was usually the one that was smirking to make people melt, not the other way around and it made his head spin.

You gripped his hand, firmly giving it a little shake. Eddie didn’t want to let go, but finally did, realizing how sweaty his palm had gotten. He tried to discreetly wipe it against his jeans. If you felt it, you didn’t say anything.

“So, Eddie, did you want to get a tattoo today?” You asked, head tilted as you looked him up and down.

“He said no-”

“Yes. Yes I do,” he said, cutting Robin off.

Robin looked like she was about to die of laughter. Eddie knew she would be itching to grab the phone and call Steve to tell him all about the way Eddie was acting. He knew there would surely be some jokes cracked at his expense during the next family dinner. But he couldn’t bring himself to care all that much.

You tilted your head, like you were studying him, picking him apart to make sure he was actually worthy of having your art on his skin forever. Eddie would let you draw on his bones if you were able to. Shit, he’d hand you the pick and chisel.

“Okay,” you said slowly. “Have any idea of what you want to get?”

“Uh…” Eddie trailed, eyes darting to the artwork around the shop. “You choose.”

You frowned. “You want me to choose your tattoo for you?”

Eddie nodded, already too far in to back out now.

“And you’re sure? Completely?” You checked as Robin started pulling out paperwork for Eddie to sign.

“Oh, yeah. I’m sure.”

Three months later and the bell dinged over the shop door. You could hear it from your office where you had low music playing as you sketched away at an idea you had. It was getting closer to the holidays and the shop was less busy. People usually liked to spend their money on presents and food this time of year instead of tattoos. You knew January was going to pick back up again so you weren’t worried.

You could hear Robin laughing at something up front, probably at whoever just came through the door. You heard the familiar sound of boots come your way and it brought a smile to your lips.

His knuckles rapped against the door a few times. This had become a routine since Eddie let you tattoo him a few months ago. He had gotten a couple more done by you, each more intricate than the last. But some days he would stop by just to say hi to you, like he probably was today. You never let other customers come to your office like this. Eddie was special.

“Hey,” you greeted him, turning in your chair. You dropped the pencil you were using to your desk, ready to give your hand a break for a bit.

Eddie smiled as he leaned against the door frame. “What are you working on?”

You held up the sketch pad. It was a drawing of a dragon taking flight. It was small, simple with just enough detail to not overpower it. If someone ever wanted this you could of course add anything to it.

“That’s sick,” Eddie said as he came closer, humming as he assessed the drawing.

“It’s not done yet. I need a little more time with it,” you explained, feeling a little self conscious about your art, something you hadn’t experienced until you realized shortly after meeting Eddie that you always wanted to impress him.

“Is it for a customer?” He asked.

“No. Just an idea I had,” you said as you set it back down on your desk.

“Can I get it?”

You tilted your head as you looked up at Eddie. His hair framed his face where he was still looking down at the drawing with intensity, avoiding your eye contact now for some reason. You could see the rose tattoo on his arm, the first one you gave him on the day you met. You didn’t tell Eddie what you were tattooing until you were done. You knew it was a risk, not many men wanted a flower tattooed on them. But this one seemed like it fitted him.

After you had tattooed the rose he stared at it with teary eyes. You thought you had really messed up until he told you that Rose was his late mothers middle name. After that, the dynamic seemed to change, bringing you even closer even though you two had just met.

“I mean if you want but it’s really not done and I-”

“I think it’s perfect,” Eddie interrupted, finally looking up at you with a small smile.

You took a deep breath at the intensity of his stare before leading him back to the room to be tattooed.

You had Eddie lay back in the reclining chair. It was laid back to be as flat as a table so you had better access to his ribs.

You explained to him that the ribs were going to hurt pretty bad even though he was no stranger to tattoo pain. He just laughed it off and asked if you could hold his hand when he starts to cry.

You rolled your eyes, pushing away the butterflies at the thought of holding his hand in yours. You didn’t really like emotions. You’d prefer to spend your time alone, drawing with nothing to complicate your life. It had been a battle the past three months of knowing Eddie. You were constantly denying the way you felt and it was getting harder and harder each time you saw him.

Eddie closed his eyes and laid mostly still except for the occasional twitch and tapping he would do. He was uncharacteristically quiet today and you found yourself going through most of his tattoo without him even saying a word. That wasn’t normal.

“Are you doing okay?” You asked as you gathered more ink. “If it’s too much we can stop for today.”

“No,” he said loudly, practically jumping off the table at your offer. He cleared his throat looking embarrassed before he slowly laid back down.

“Are you sure?” You checked again, giving him the opportunity to quit if he wanted to.

“Yeah. I’m sure,” he said with a nod as he closed his eyes again.

You went back to tattooing, trying to figure out why he was acting this way. He seemed nervous to be around you today and you weren’t sure why. It didn’t make sense. He was usually a blushing, stumbling mess around you and now suddenly he was acting like this tattoo was the most serious thing he had ever done.

“You need me to hold your hand?” You joked, trying to lighten the mood.

Eddie giggled nervously with his eyes still closed. You watched him wipe his palm discreetly against his jeans.

You had a feeling you knew what was going on here. It was a feeling you had from the first day you met him and he not so subtly asked you out. When you tattooed him that first day, he seemed to cover up his nerves well by joking with you and asking you questions about yourself. You could ask him, see what he says. The worst he could say is no. You usually had a good eye for things like this and Eddie had all the signs.

“You know next time you can just ask me out on a date instead of having me tattoo you,” you said as you cleaned the fresh ink off the now finished tattoo.

Eddie’s eyes shot open in a flash. He sat up, wincing at the tender skin on his ribs.

“Wait!” You yelled as you grabbed a cloth and cleanser. “I need to clean it before you get up.”

Eddie ignored your demands. “Did Robin tell you?” He asked, looking defeated.

“No,” you said as you wiped at the skin from the new position he sat in. “You were just acting kind of weird so I figured that might have been what was going on.”

Eddie sighed deeply.

“If I read that wrong and totally made this awkward just tell me,” you said quickly.

“No,” Eddie rushed out. “No. You were right. I didn’t realize I was that obvious.”

You laughed and shook your head. “You were just a little obvious.”

You motioned for Eddie to stand up and take a look in the mirror. He whistled as he looked at the fresh ink on his now angry skin.

“You like it?” You asked.

“I love it. It’s incredible. Thank you,” he said, still in awe of your artwork on his body.

You nodded your head awkwardly as you started to wrap it to keep it clean and uninfected. You met Eddie’s eyes in the mirror when you were finished. You froze, unsure what to do now and afraid that you had ruined everything by speaking up. You really enjoyed Eddie’s company and the thought of becoming something more made your heart race.

Eddie grabbed his things, about to head to the front to pay.

“So…was that a no?” He asked as he slipped his shirt over his head.

You laughed. “Eddie, you didn’t even ask me.”

“Oh, right. Sorry. I’m still nervous. Do you want to go out on a date sometime?”

“I’d love to.”

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson au #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson x you #eddie stranger things #eddie munson x tattooartist!reader #eddie munson x fem reader #eddie munson x fem!reader

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sinimake · 4 months

Text

Some Kenshi specific headcanons!

His parents died when he was a teenager, leaving him and his younger sister. That's when Kenshi really got into the yakuza business because there were no adult to shield him from criminal life, and he had to earn money to keep them afloat.

He's indifferent to cold weather but absolutely hates humid heat. Summers in Japan are his nightmare, especially since he has to wear long sleeves to cover up his tattoos. It is the main reason why he's so on edge and irritated most of the time.

He grips things in his hand when he's thinking and focused. God help Johnny if Kenshi's hand is on his thigh when it happens.

Has no skincare routine. He uses cheap 2-in-1 shampoo and washes his face with hand soap.

Not specifically interested in cars but he is a beast behind a wheel—difting, clutch kicking and obstacle course swerving. He knows how to drive.

Bit of an adrenaline junkie. He loves the kick but doesn't seek out danger purposedly.

He's absolute sweetheart with children, women and elders. He's that type to intentionally walk slow as he crosses road to make sure elders cross it safely too. He keeps children out of trouble and protects women from creepers. But because it is usually how the yakuza exploit people as payback from their help, people are very vary of Kenshi. So he learns to do it subtly over the time.

Very humble in nature but can be a cocky mofo when he wants to.

Constantly smells like cloves because of choji oil he uses for his katana

Has glass eyes. Johnny always tries to get him to wear wild and different prosthetics (once tried to put sharingan in him), but he just sticks to all white ones because he doesn't really show his eyes to others anyway.

He wears leather gloves to hide his tattoos on his hands.

He's a natural leader!!! This is a canon thing we need to pay more attention to!!!

Has strong sense of justice. He diligently tries to live an honest life after the yakuza and not break any laws but if it is absolutely necessary, he will take it to the extreme. Needs Sento? Doesn't wanna rob a dude blind but he's gonna break into his mansion and threaten him to give it to him.

Loves spicy food! Constantly trying to get Johnny's spice tolerance up.

I previously mentioned he never went to college, but he's always been effortlessly smart in school. He was a type of smart student who doesn't study for exams but still aces them.

He wants to have his own dojo in the future.

Very light sleeper bc old habits die hard.

I said he loves spice, but he doesn't really have that much preference in food and will eat anything. His sister cooks him debauchery of bento all the time, but Kenshi always wolves them down. (They both shouldn't be allowed in the kitchen. Bad cooking is in their bloodline)

Got no solid music taste but will listen to either angry metal or traditional japanese music on his own.

You know those plates of candies on the receptions' tables? He always grabs a candy off it to later give it to others. Many times, Johnny has received candies out of nowhere from Kenshi.

Sometimes has verbal altercations with the voice over accessibility feature of his phone.

Always gets into arguments with tsa agents bc of sento.

#we dont whumpee him in this household #kenshi takahashi #mortal kombat #kenshi takahashi headcanon #mk1 #mk1 2023 #mortal kombat 2023 #johnshi headcanon

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espinosaurusrexex · 1 year

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Just an idea :) for Sherlock, what if Enola is always trying to get him to date cuz either he's lonely or always focused on work. But he always turns down the idea. Then one day she lures him to her favorite bookshop (or cafe, etc) and casually introduces him to her favorite employee. And the pickup line just comes out of no where, even he is surprised lolz. Feel free to not use this at all if you get better ideas😂

Thank you so much for this idea! For writing purposes, this will take place in modern times (*writing purposes meaning me being too lazy to write period specific)

Cheesy Pick-up Line (Bingo Game)

!BINGO ASKS CLOSED!

College!Henry!SherlockHolmes x Female!Reader

word count: 1.3k

warnings: a little bickering, awkward Sherlock, fluffy and cute

Enola giggled excitedly as she pushed past the glass double doors of her favorite library. Her brother was following behind closely, a disinterested look on his face as they entered the small building. For Enola, it was the perfect place to be, but Sherlock just asked himself what he was doing here instead of studying for his criminal justice exam next week.

What he had not concluded yet, was that Enola Holmes had an agenda far different from the story she had told her brother about just an hour ago. He didn’t know his sister had spent weeks finding a way to finally get him to leave his stuffy, foot-smelling boy room. She had mashed her brain about it as she roamed the shelves of her favorite place and when she checked out the other day, she was embarrassed to have thought of it so late. It was blatantly obvious. Her brother needed a girlfriend. Someone that would encourage him to live outside of his schoolwork every once in a while. And you were the perfect candidate for the job. Smiley and charming, intelligent and pretty, and on top of that, someone Enola liked very much. She had established a first-name basis with you over the hours she spent in the little library you worked at. Today, she would try to accomplish the same for Sherlock.

Sherlock stood between the rows of shelves, waiting for his sister to finish collecting the mountain of books he was sure she wasn’t even allowed to check out at once. She had recruited him to ‘help her carry them’ as if she weren’t very capable of it herself. And besides, Enola was the one always underlining her independence and that women could do just as much as men. Something wasn’t adding up.

Enola placed another book in his arms. One she had mindlessly pulled from the shelve to keep her story alive. It was a small sacrifice for the gratification she would get would her brother finally fall in love this evening. She was sure of it. No more feigned disinterest in the stories their family told about cousins and other relatives having their first partners. No more annoying dismissal of their mother’s subtle hints towards his isolating himself. No more bad moods because of the uncalled-for comments Mycroft threw at him when he visited with his fiancé. It was about to change today.

“Relativity Theory?” He lifted an eyebrow before Enola could disappear behind another shelf. “Hamlet? What kind of homework is this supposed to be?”

“You wouldn’t understand,” Enola quipped before placing an autobiography in his arms.

“They’ll think you’re robbing this place.” He readjusted the books because even though he was fairly strong, they slipped in his grasp. “How are you planning on checking those all out?”

“Jokes on you, my check-out limit has been upgraded because I’m a regular.”

“To 17? That’s too many. Too many books in general. Even for your ADHD brain.”

She glared at him. “Well, that’s where you come into play. With your card, we can check out 15. And for the other two, I’ll just have to sweet talk my way through.”

“You’re impossible, Enola.” Sherlock rolled his eyes as he followed his younger sibling to the counter.

“Shut up, It’s hard carrying enough character for Mycroft and you. You should thank me, really.”

“Unbelievable,” he muttered under his breath and then he placed the books down with a thud.

Enola Smiled as she saw you approach the counter from the back office. Once you were here, the hot phase of her plan would be set in motion. And she couldn’t wait.

“Good evening, Enola. I see you brought someone new with you today?” You asked kindly with a bright smile on your face. Most people that came into the library didn’t talk much, but ever since Enola came around, she made the day a whole lot better. She grew to be a friend to you, which was why you also already knew who the handsome ‘stranger’ next to her was. But you wouldn’t reveal it just yet, that would be creepy.

“This is my Brother, Sherlock.” Enola just smiled as she placed her pile of books on the counter as well.

“Nice to meet you,” the tall brunette smiled behind his glasses, soft curls falling into his face when he nodded toward you.

“Nice to meet you, too. I would ask if you found everything you were looking for, but I guess it’s even more than that...” You counted the books, sending Enola a warning look. You had gone through the trouble of sweet-talking Old Mrs. Thomson if Enola could be an exception to the ‘only six books for home’ rule once again. Trying one more would get you on dusting duty for at least three weeks.

Your eyes locked with Sherlocks. “Do you have a library card?” And then your attention was back to the register, typing away on the little blue display.

Sherlock couldn’t see what you were doing, but he knew he wanted your eyes back on him. He didn’t know why, there was something about you that made him all excited. “Why? Because you want to check me out?” Uh oh.

Your fingers stopped hacking away at the outdated machine and your eyes wandered back to him. A deep blush tinted his cheeks and ears pink as you tried to hold back the laugh pushing at your throat.

Sherlock wanted the earth to swallow him whole. Why had he just said that? What was wrong with him?

And while her brother desperately attempted to hide his shocked face, Enola just stood beside him, equally stunned. She hadn’t known it had gotten this bad. His constant isolation must have messed with his social competence somehow. Because whatever she was just witnessing, was beyond secondhand embarrassment. He made her job harder to bring the two of you together, and honestly, right now, Enola did not see a chance for her brother.

“Yes, yes he has. Here!” Enola ripped the card from her brother's pocket and handed it to you. You, who bit your lips to hide the smile creeping on your features and shook your head.

Sherlock didn’t say another word after that. Too embarrassed to ever talk again, really, he waited out the time until you were finished scanning all the books and his and Enola’s cards. Relief washed over him when you said your goodbyes.

“I'm making an exception this time, Enola. Mrs. Thomson must not know about this and you better bring all of these books back without a single mark,” you warned.

But Enola countered weakly, matted by her idiot brother destroying the best plan ever made. “When did I ever not?” Still, she tried a sneaky smile on her lips.

When the doors fell close behind them and the siblings walked along the sidewalk home, Enola shoved her brother harshly.

“Great job, you idiot. You just ruined your only chance at not becoming a weird and bitter old man.”

But Sherlock didn’t answer. He was well aware of the embarrassment he had just presented himself as in that library and in front of you. With his head hung low, he opened the top book in his arms to retrieve his library card, but when he moved the piece of plastic and revealed the check-out receipt, all of his sister’s bickering moved to the background.

There, beneath the date and time of his visit, was your number, scribbled in blue ink with a small heart by your name. He smiled to himself as he traced the number with his finger. And just then, Enola glanced over his shoulder to find out why he hadn't told her to shut up yet.

Who would have thought that you would be hooked after a line like that?

Tags: @circe143 @valkyrie418 @mirikusashes @noideawhyimdoingthislol @nikkitc0703 @lethallyprotected @erynnnn @misshale21 @wattpaduser200 @mi-amoree1111 @xxinvisiblexx @lastwandastan @when-you-cant-think-of-anything @pevensiemadness @mrsgweasley

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coltermorning · 9 months

Text

The Outlaw’s Way (RDR2 Fanfic, Arthur Morgan x F!Reader, 18+)

Summary: You catch a notorious outlaw in the act of robbing the general store late one night. To keep you quiet, he punishes you for it.

Author’s Notes: Look at me finally learning how to write something shorter than ten thousand words :)

Tags: Arthur Morgan x reader, smut, low honor Arthur Morgan, rough sex, semi-public sex

AO3 Link

The Outlaw’s Way

Word count: 2323

“Easy, girl.”

The irony of the way Arthur Morgan purred those words was laughable. But you were far from laughing.

His hand was clamped around your throat, holding you against the wall. You would be terrified, should have been, if you weren’t so busy being aroused by his lowly, rough handling. Far from any kind of easy, no matter how much he said otherwise.

“Open your mouth.”

You did as he said, and his thumb found the edge of your lip, running across it. You watched his eyes, the only thing you could see of his face behind that black bandana. They studied your mouth like it was a complicated score, another job to run and get away with.

He stuck his thumb in your mouth, making you close your lips around it out of instinct. You saw the slightest narrowing of his eyes—a satisfied smile behind that mask.

“So good for me,” he said lowly. “You gonna keep quiet? Or do I have to keep this pretty mouth filled?”

You couldn’t answer, too busy with his finger, too worried by his hand around your throat. He was making shallow movements in and out, just enough for you to move your tongue against him.

He took his thumb away, closing in on you. “Answer me.”

You felt his thigh press against your legs, separating them until his knee hit the wall at your back.

You held in a moan when the friction of his leg scraped against your arousal. “I…”

His free hand found your backside, pitched you forward until you were fully straddling his leg. All the while, those deep, piercing eyes never left yours.

“Use your words.” He tightened his grip on your throat instead of loosening it.

“I won’t tell,” you breathed.

“Won’t you?”

Never. Not if this was what it got you. He had been robbing the general store at your back when you found him, catching him in the act. The store owner was long since retired for the night, leaving you the sole witness to the crime. And not only was it an actionable offense, but he was also one of the more famous outlaws in the state. His bounty posters were all over town. Arthur Morgan, head enforcer to the Van der Linde Gang. His picture didn’t do him justice. But it wasn’t his masculine features that were attracting your attention.

He kept your head pinned back, leaning in even closer. “What if you’re lying? Then what’ll I do with you?”

He gripped your hip hard, hard enough to bruise, and started guiding you back and forth on his leg. You let out a breathy moan.

“I won’t tell,” you repeated, the words mewled.

“I don’t trust that for a second. Maybe I’ll fill you up, give you a reminder any time you think of going to the law about what you saw.”

You moaned. You wanted that so badly you were willing to sacrifice any moral you’d ever had.

“Yeah, you’d like that would you?”

You couldn’t hold his intense gaze. Your eyes fluttered shut, all thought on moving against his muscled thigh, the heat building within you.

He finally let go of your throat. You stopped grinding against him when you heard him undoing his gun belt, looking down to watch.

“Uh uh. You keep moving until I tell you to stop.”

You obeyed but watched all the same. He unbuckled the belt, and it fell to the ground with a heavy thunk, his weapons sprawling in the dirt. You ground against his thigh a little harder when his hands worked his pants buttons apart. Were you really about to do this? Let an outlaw ravage you in the wide open? When he pulled himself out, stroking his cock as he clamped his hand around your throat once more, you had your answer.

“You want me to fill that little cunt, darlin’?”

Lord above, what a crude way to speak to a woman. But you were aroused even more by it.

You hesitated, overwhelmed by the feeling his leg was giving you and the sight of his hand around his impressive length.

His grip tightened around your throat. “Answer me, sweetheart. I don’t like asking twice.”

“Yes, I do,” you breathed.

His lazy laughter rent the night. It drew your attention. You suddenly wanted to see his face, wanted to know if he was as handsome under that mask as the rest of him was.

Before you could go to remove it, he released your throat and stooped, gathering up your skirts. His hand slipped under them, and he had your undergarments pulled down before you could so much as blink. One of his fingers ran against your slick, and your eyes fluttered shut as you released a breath, leaning into the feeling.

He gave a satisfied hum. “All ready for me, ain’tcha? Naughty little thing, wanting me to take you so bad.”

You didn’t respond. Couldn’t. It didn’t matter anyway—he was too impatient to wait for an answer. He hitched the front of your skirts up and boxed you in against the wall, his hips lining up with yours. You felt his cock slide against the inside of your thigh.

“Tell me again why I’m having to do this to you.”

It took all your will to focus. To think. Especially as those eyes bored into yours. “Because I need to be reminded to…to keep quiet.”

You expected a quip in return, but instead he rammed his length into you in one harsh stroke. The beginning of a cry of pleasure spilled from your lips before he slapped his hand over your mouth, muffling it.

“Quiet, girl. Don’t want no one knowing what we’re doing out here.”

He retreated, the pull of his cock against your walls sinfully good. Even better was when he slammed back in, greedy and rough.

He laughed in that smug way again when you moaned into his hand. “There.” The way he drug that word out had you dripping with want.

He started to take you against the wall, your lower back pressing into the wood harshly with each thrust. His hand moved slowly down your face until it found your throat again, forcing your chin back with his need. He began to fuck you hard and fast, the sound of him slamming into you filling the night.

He gave a low grunt at a particularly hard thrust. So did you, but you used the distraction and took his mask between your fingers, pulling it up just enough to see the rest of his face. God above, was he handsome. Your heavy-lidded eyes flicked up to see him staring you down. Hungry.

He brought his hand away from your throat and pressed it against your clit as he continued to fuck you deep. You lost it.

“Please,” you moaned as you gripped his arms, needing relief and needing to get out from under that finger all at once. He had trapped you against the wall. You had nowhere to go, nothing to do but take it.

“No use begging,” he grumbled. “You won’t get no mercy from me.”

You threw your head back, trying your best to stifle your moans. Those cursed words. Why did you covet them so?

His thumb started a wild pace against you, and your orgasm came roaring awake like you had never known true pleasure before. Your moans changed pitch, shooting as high as your need did.

“Want to feel that little cunt go tight,” he growled. It was the last straw. Your body obeyed him like it spoke his language.

You let go of all your restraint and pride, letting this man have every piece of you. Your orgasm hit you like a wall, and you were holding onto the edges of a scream as he continued his abuse of you. What pitiful noises you did manage caught the outlaw’s attention. Your upper back hit the wall hard as he changed his angle. And it was worse, so much worse—he wouldn’t let your pleasure down.

“Please,” you begged, desperate this time. You moved any way you could to get away from his abuse, but he only laughed. Went deeper. Ravaged you with his finger even faster.

“Take it,” he demanded, and there was no part of you that wanted to disobey him. Even though your body was protesting, even though it had never taken such treatment, you relented.

“I-” You gasped a breath. Another orgasm rolled through you like fire, this one so intense your legs started shaking.

“There,” he said low. You could hear the smugness in the word.

You were so high you couldn’t think, couldn’t breathe for a moment. His finger finally drew away, but still he pushed into you.

His hands came around your backside and lifted you, making you straddle his waist when he pushed you back against the wall. You were chest to chest now, and he used all his strength to thrust upward. Hard. You let out such a loud whine that he shushed you.

“What’d I say?”

“To be- oh god. To be quiet.”

“I need to make myself more clear?”

“No,” you breathed, your head falling back and plunking against the wood.

“Good girl.” His voice had a new edge to it—a desperate one. He was close to his own release.

Your breathing mingled with his, and he went impossibly harder, your body never knowing such pleasure.

He let out a panting breath then said, voice faltering, “Gonna fill you up.”

You moaned again, trying your best to keep it quiet.

“You want that?” he taunted. “Want my spend dripping out of you?” You shut your eyes tight, those words stirring your desire again. He was relentless. And got off on those dirty words of his almost as much as you did.

“Yes.” It was a breath of a word. An idiotic word. But you couldn’t resist it.

He chuckled, the rumble of it through his chest so masculine and proud. “Knew you would.” And like he had been holding back before, he gripped your hips and dug into you, his cock pushing so deep you were crying out again. He didn’t seem to care this time, buried under his desire.

His grip became so tight on your skin you writhed to get away. He was pulling another orgasm from you against your will, hitting that sweet spot within you over and over again.

When it surmounted, when you fell apart and he began to, you let his name slip past your lips. He groaned at the sound. You came hard, and he slammed into you one last time, doing the very same. Spilling inside of you, just like he said. It made your high inexplicably better. You basked in it, knowing nothing but the feeling of pleasure for a few blissful moments. Then he was pulling out of you, letting your legs down. You wanted to whine at the loss, wanted him to do it all over again. You couldn’t think that for long as you realized, with burning shame, you were having a hard time standing. Your legs shook beneath you, barely holding you up.

The outlaw laughed lowly, dangerously, when he saw. “I make your knees go all weak darlin’?” You met his eye, and he closed in on you. For a heartbeat you thought he would try to kiss you through his mask, but you realized too late his hands were dropping low. He brushed his fingers along the inside of your thigh, to his spend that had indeed dripped down your legs. If your knees hadn’t already been shivering, they would have started to at the touch. Especially as he held your gaze, gathering up his spend and tucking it back into your soaked core. His fingers dragged against you, filled you with his come, served their purpose. Your knees gave.

He caught you, laughing lowly as he did, and his cursed fingers finally let you be. “You remember that the next time you think of going to the law,” he said in your ear.

You didn’t respond. Numb with pleasure.

He went on. “If I find out you did, I’ll come do it again. And another time after that, just to be sure it takes.” You squeezed your legs together at the very idea of him doing this again.

“And if I dont?” you whispered, voice hoarse.

“Then I’ll do it anyway.” You let a groan escape you, and he laughed as he settled you on your legs a little better, stepping back and tucking himself back in his pants. “Look at you, all used up.”

“Stop speaking like that,” you begged.

He just chuckled, low and deep, as he went to refasten his gun belt. “I’ll stop when you learn your lesson about snooping around on a man.”

You wanted to say it had been an accident, that you hadn’t intended to see him robbing the store blind. But you were also much too receptive to any lesson he was willing to give you to say otherwise.

When he was all put back together, his hands falling on his gun belt in an unfairly attractive way, he stepped forward. He towered over you as that gaze of his pierced your very soul. “Be here when I get back. And keep that pretty mouth shut. Understood?”

You nodded, hoping—entirely irrationally—that he would return sometime soon.

“Use your words,” he taunted, his eyes crinkling in that hidden smile.

“I understand. I’ll be good.”

He snickered as he turned, whistling for his horse. He took one last look at you, a sudden hardness overtaking his gaze. “You better be.” Your knees gave another involuntary shiver. And just like that, he made for his horse and mounted, riding away. No more than a phantom sent to torture you and gone just as soon.

#arthur morgan #arthur morgan smut #arthur morgan x reader #arthur morgan x female reader #low honor arthur morgan #rdr2 arthur morgan #rdr2 fanfic #rdr2 #fanfic #writing #nsft #lemon fanfic

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captainmera · 2 months

Note

He looked into the galderstone. It’s blue shimmer allured him. Caleb stroked the surface of it. “I’d give anything to be alive and see her again.”

this line HURTS SO MUCH especially after all that has happened in ttocw RAAAAH /pos

Ok but seriously it so much fun to go back and read TGB (especially Caleb's arc) now that we've got to see so much of how you build his character nowadays

Man some lines just hit like an emotional train like These are not my hands.” He said, curling his fingers in. “This is my thumb. And my blood. But not my life. I wouldn’t rob Hunter of his life, I know what that’s like.” yeah that whole scene where Caleb was crying in hunters body got me rolling in tears /pos

All in all it was quite entertaining to watch goofball English-man argue with the children :)

I KNOW. 😭

Not me sitting over here all "how can I make this more tragic? :)" and then build Caleb up as someone who flip-flops between trying to live day-by-day and suicidal ideation, only to find hope and freedom and everything he ever wanted. And then the consequences of his deceits and lies catches up to him and he's murdered. And then he's a ghost who haunts his brother and lives inside the hearts of Grimwalkers made in his image ---

tgb spoilers beneath

SO I ASKED MYSELF, Y'KNOW??? HOW CAN I MAKE IT WORSE? oh, I KNOW!

What if he manages to manipulate his way to an unfinished grimwalker. And gets a new body. AYE????

THAT PLAN OF HIS, YEAH? GET A NEW BODY, AYE?? AND VENGEANCE???

AYE.

FOOD FOR THOUGHT, INNIT?

So he gets a body. Luz fights Belos, defeats him. That old bugger's still going and tries to run, aye?

But instead of killing him, y'know.. Because he's done a lot of harm and edited historical documents etc, his victims needs justice, aye?

And Caleb, who blames himself for being the trigger of events for leaving, for having raised Philip and subsequently turned his brother into this maniac, feels responsible.

Caleb, who wants retribution for being robbed of his life. but also justice for Evelyn and the realm he calls home, wanting to be put to justice for his own crimes as well as Philip's, which he views as an extension of his own.

He's in this half-finished grimwalker body. Open wounds and all, managed to stagger his way to the battleground, arrives post-defeat of Belos. And just as Belos is going to pull a last power-move, Caleb's there.

And manages to trick Belos into believing he's no longer bewitched, he's free. They can take down the realm together. Belos possess him.

with this spell I declare the pain to be shared.

and locks Belos into his galderstone heart forever.

That way, Philip got what he wanted - his brother back.

Caleb gets what he wanted - to "save" his brother but also bring him to justice to face his crimes.

Like this, Caleb asks to be sentenced, to be the "guard" of his brother and be his stand-in. As a responsible big brother, he lets "belos" go to court, encaged in Caleb's heart and only let out if allowed and even then Caleb. as both blueprint and grimwalker, has the final say in how long he gets to be out.

Caleb finally gets his peace by going to jail, and can help the boiling isles regain what Belos has taken away from them. Caleb was there after all, through the eyes of grimwalkers, he knows a thing or two.

There's two sentences.

One for Belos, aka Philip Wittebane. And one for his brother, Caleb Wittebane. They are conjoined for now, and the court doesn't agree with Caleb that he should suffer the same sentence as Belos. Though it cant be helped.

But as Caleb is in control, they make accommodations in his cell. Like for example he gets a TV, and a magical window he can look through but not break so he can see the island.

He gets visitation rights, too, and mandatory therapy.

Hunter and Luz visits a lot, and once the Clawthornes find out they're related, they visit too. Old friends of Caleb's like the batqueen, visits now and then too.

Caleb spends his days learning to read and write, helping Lilith and the new government find lost documents!

It is not difficult for him to stone sleep, and he does it more often than he should probably.

To him, this prison is basically just a nice extension of his previous prison in the galderstone heart.

But he dips down to his brother. They have things to talk about, to fight about, to argue and discuss. Philip has admitted defeat and gives the information Caleb is asking of him.

The brothers love one another, but both are resentful. So it's going to take a decade or few to see eye-to-eye. But Caleb is determined to make Philip understand he's done wrong and that this punishment is justified.

"The only reason you're not dead, Pip, is because my love for you triumph the hatred and anger I have for you. I cannot forgive you, not until you are truly sorry. I need you to repent. For once in your life, admit you're not the smartest in the room 'nor the most noble. You're not." "I-" "You are not! You are but human! We are human- We aren't perfect! By god, Pip, I am not the brother 'nor man you thought or wished I was. And you are delusional to think that you are any greater than the next flawed man." "..." "You have done great evil, Pip, and you can't even see it. I need you to see it." "... If what I've done is so evil, then know I did it for you." "Why do you think I'm here?" "..." "You fool." The colourful smokes wisps up into the starry skies. Caleb looks up at the endless moving, twinkling, cosmos. It is not a normal night sky, it reminds him a bit of that Collector child's magic. But perhaps that's just the Galderstone magic looking similar. He looks down at his pouting brother, he's changed form to his young adult self. His face all crinkled up with foul thoughts. Caleb sighs. Another argument leading nowhere. But someday he'd get through to him. Someday he would. The boy he once was, was in there, somewhere, or at least so Caleb hoped. But maybe that was just an older brother's wishful thinking. He did not want to give up hope on Philip changing his ways. Perhaps it would take another 400 years to do it, but they had the time. And it's not like Philip had anybody else than Caleb and the beasts to talk to. Artemis taps around in the sand. "Ah, yes, I see you are losing to Artemis' masterful game of tic-tac-toe." Philip glances at the sand and the little pebbles. Indeed, he kept losing to the palisman. He let out a grunt. "Don't feel bad, he wins against me too. And I've gamed him for 400 years." "Mh." "...Alright, well, good night, Pip." "..." And Caleb left. Opening his eyes to the quiet of his cell. It was a nice cell, like a little flat with no privacy if someone looked in through the bars. He turned on his pillow, his soft and pleasant pillow. And saw the photograph of Evelyn by his bedside. And smiled. What wonders the modern day could conjure, huh? They took out a memory of her from him, copied it, put his memory back in his head and let him keep this copy of her - amongst other photos that donned his walls. Nearly from floor to ceiling, there were photos of his past, of Hunter and his friends, his descendants. Some posters of things he liked from the human realm and the demon realm. But near his bed, like the star on a christmas tree, was a framed picture. His Evelyn. "Oh Ev, he's stubborn." But Evelyn's photograph didn't respond. "But so am I. And he is helping, although a bit less graciously as I'd hoped. But he is giving what I'm asking for at least, with some... Persuasion." Evelyn's photo was smiling sweetly at him, and he smiled back. "Lilith is coming tomorrow, with Hunter and Amity. What do you think I should wear? Mh? Blue shirt? Red shirt? I like the red one.. It has frills!" He got lost in her eyes and cuddled down. "Yeah.. Red one." He closed his eyes to dream. "G'night Ev." And as he slept, he had another one of those dreams where she played a lyre for him. They laughed, and talked, and played in the summers and winters of his dreams. An endless forest with golden lights, her laughter, and his cheeky grins. This dream was a summer. The tulips swayed in the breeze. Caleb liked to think those dreams were her ghost visiting him. After all, he'd been a ghost for centuries, he knew what they could do. Entering dreams were one of many perks. He had his hell in his galderheart, his heaven in his dreams. He was at peace.

#tgb #tgb spoilers #ttocw #mini-story at the bottom #cus I cant help myself

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eviebakes · 4 months

Text

'til morning comes

Summary: In the twilight years of gunslingers and outlaws, Mattie is used to being on her own—and then she meets Flora.

Word Count: ~4.5K

Warnings: Violence, Explicit Language

A/N: This story was inspired by @drizzledrawings amazing cowbians art, which you should definitely go check out!! Mattie and Flora are their characters, but hopefully I did these two cowboys justice 🤠 The title is from Tessellate by alt-j. Thank you so much for reading!

__________________

Mattie stood beneath the shade of an oak tree, an unlit cigarette between her lips.

She patted her pockets, biting back a sigh when the search failed to yield any matches.

Damn. Mattie tilted her head skyward, lifting her hat and pushing her bangs back into her hair.

Dark clouds loomed on the horizon, hinting at the promise of rain. Somewhere overhead, a hawk screeched.

June grazed nearby, just visible through the trees. Mattie debated calling her over so she could look through the saddle bags before quickly dismissing the idea.

She’d resupply when she got the chance. Maybe stop at that muddy little town she’d ridden past this morning and grab a hot meal while she was at it.

Later though.

Now, it was time to rob some bastard blind.

Mattie hummed beneath her breath as she strode through the trees, her hand brushing against the worn leather of her holster. The ground, still wet from last night’s rain, sunk beneath her boots with every step.

She found a good vantage spot on the edge of the road and tucked herself against a tree, half-obscured by the surrounding foliage.

A covered wagon rolled past, a man and woman arguing loudly over supplies. Then, a group of men on horseback, all of them grim faced and armed to the teeth.

Mattie waited patiently, biding her time.

Experience had taught her that it was better to wait for the right target. Even if there were less lawmen in this part of the country, picking the wrong person could lead to trouble.

Mattie straightened from her lean when a woman appeared down the road sitting astride a piebald horse, a white hat pulled low over her face.

Mattie eyed her consideringly—but to her surprise, the woman raised her head and looked straight at her.

Their eyes met. The woman gave her a once-over and smiled, touching the brim of her hat as she rode past. After a moment’s hesitation, Mattie returned the gesture and resumed her vigil.

Half an hour passed before another single rider appeared. A man this time, unarmed and covered in road dust.

Perfect.

“Help me,” Mattie gasped, limping out of the brush and stumbling to the ground in front of him. “Oh, God—please help me!”

“Whoa!” The man pulled his horse to a stop and dismounted, eyeing her warily. “What’s wrong, miss?”

“I-it’s my ankle,” she whimpered, clutching at her foot. “Somethin’ is wrong with my ankle!”

He hesitantly took a step closer, the watch chain on his vest glinting in the sun. “What happened?”

“My horse bucked me and r-ran off into the woods,” Mattie panted. “Please, mister. Can you help me find him?”

He shifted on his feet, seemingly torn between pity and suspicion. But Mattie was a good liar and, after several days of traveling, she didn’t have to feign dishevelment.

“Please,” she said, her voice cracking, and his expression finally softened. Got you.

“Here, let’s get you up,” he said, crouching beside her. “We’ll find your horse, miss.”

He helped her to stand and, as soon as she put weight on her foot, Mattie pretended to stumble into him.

Her fingers skimmed against the watch chain right as he moved to catch her, causing her hand to knock into his stomach. Shit.

Before she could play it off, he grabbed her wrist. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

“Let go of me!” Mattie snapped, dropping all pretense.

Her free hand went to her holster when he only tightened his grip. “I should’ve known better! You’re nothing more than a goddamn—"

They both froze when a horse appeared down the road at a full gallop, heading straight for them.

The man released her with a curse, and Mattie dove away as the rider desperately pulled back on the reigns to avoid them.

The horse reared, the rider tumbling off the saddle and hitting the ground with a cry.

The man rushed over to help, and Mattie took advantage of the distraction to crawl into the undergrowth. Breathless, she peered through the leaves to watch the scene unfold.

“Miss! Miss, are you okay?”

“I-I think so. J-just a little shaken.”

“Here, let me help you sit up. Careful now—take it slow.”

Mattie narrowed her eyes. It was the same brunette who’d ridden past earlier. Why’d she come back this way…?

“Thank you, sir,” she said as the man helped her up, hastily offering an arm when she swayed unsteadily on her feet. “I truly appreciate your kindness.”

“If anything, I should be thanking you. You interrupted some ugly business—a would-be thief trying to rob me.”

“How awful!”

She clutched the man’s arm more tightly, and the sleight of hand was so subtle, so natural, that Mattie almost thought she’d imagined it.

But no—the woman smoothly tucked the watch up her shirtsleeve a moment later, her eyes never once leaving the man’s face. “I’m lucky I ran into you instead—I could’ve been in even more trouble!”

Unlike Mattie’s fumbled attempt at pickpocketing, the man didn’t so much as blink. “Don’t worry, now. She seems to have scampered off in the chaos.”

“Thank goodness for that! The roads can so unsafe sometimes.”

Mattie ground her teeth, fuming at the turn of events. This had to be a damn joke.

But as the man helped her onto the horse, the brunette turned to look right at the spot where Mattie had concealed herself—a flash of dark, mischievous eyes.

And then she winked.

What. The. FUCK.

_________

A few hours later found Mattie at the saloon, nursing a lukewarm beer while she sulked.

What a waste of a day. Hours spent staking out a decent spot along the road, and nothing to show for it but a bruised ego. She’d been outmaneuvered and out—out thieved, and it pissed her off to no end.

She took an angry gulp of beer, slamming down the bottle in a futile effort to relieve some of the frustration prickling beneath her skin.

No one paid her any mind. It was late afternoon, and the saloon was blessedly empty save for a few men playing poker.

Tomorrow, she’d start fresh. Ride to that town north of here and rob any easy targets she found along the way.

Tonight though, Mattie just wanted to forget the whole shitty day.

She drank her way through several more beers while the saloon slowly filled with people, the wall lights flickering to life as the sunlight faded. Carts and stagecoaches rumbled past outside, joining the piano music and the hum of conversation.

One of the poker players sidled up to the bar, squeezing into the open spot beside her. He was around her age, his hair slicked back with too much pomade.

He ordered a whiskey, subtly glancing at her while the bartender filled a glass for him. Mattie ignored him, keeping her gaze forward.

She bit back a sigh when he fully twisted to face her. “Well, aren’t you a sight for sore—"

“Not interested,” Mattie broke in flatly, not even bothering to look at him.

“I’m just trying to have a conv—”

“Get. Lost.”

His ears reddened, but there were too many people around for him to do more than shoot her a dirty look. “You aren’t that pretty anyways.”

“Good one. Very original,” Mattie said beneath her breath as he staggered away.

“Right? A real charmer,” someone said at her elbow.

Mattie tensed. It was the brunette—smiling at her like they were the best of friends. “You.”

“Me,” she agreed easily, resting her arms on the bar and nodding at the empty bottles. “Tough day, huh?”

“No thanks to you,” Mattie hissed accusingly, jabbing a finger at her. “You robbed me.”

“I thought about robbing you, but you didn’t look like you had much.”

She gaped. “You serious?”

“No, I’m Flora.”

“You—that’s not—!” Mattie pressed her lips together, glowering. “So…so you just came here to gloat then?”

“I came here for a drink, sunshine.”

Sunshine…? Mattie mouthed stupidly, her glare faltering. It was like she’d encountered a whirlwind—one that was two steps ahead of her.

“This was the closest town in riding distance,” Flora said, gesturing at the sunflower on Mattie’s hat in answer to her unspoken question. “And I was gonna rob the first good target I ran into out there. Don’t read too much into it.”

Her voice was friendly, but lacked the flirtatiousness from the road. It’d just been part of the act, like pretending to fall off her horse or Mattie’s damsel in distress ploy.

“Well aren’t you good at what you do,” Mattie said, like she had a mouthful of marbles.

“Awful sweet of you for noticing,” Flora said, grinning when she rolled her eyes. “Tell you what. Your next round is on me.”

“No thanks,” Mattie said, scowling. “I don’t need your pity.”

“Hey, if I feel bad for anyone, it’s that poor bastard from earlier.” Flora leaned closer, one of her braids sliding over her shoulder and grazing Mattie’s arm. “He was the one getting robbed today, one way or another.”

A laugh bubbled from the back of her throat. Mattie barely managed to turn it into a cough because—yeah, she had a point. “Just one drink.”

“That’s the spirit,” Flora said cheerfully, catching the bartender’s attention and tossing a few coins on the bar.

“But this doesn’t make us friends,” Mattie added, catching the drink Flora slid her way.

“Whatever you say,” Flora agreed amicably, clinking their bottles together. “Cheers.”

She waited until Mattie took a sip, smiling with the lip of the bottle still pressed to her mouth. “That wasn’t so bad, was—"

“Hey,” someone interrupted loudly. They simultaneously looked over their shoulders. “Hey, you. Irish.”

“Oh good,” Flora said lightly, turning and propping a hip against the bar. “Mr. Charmer is back for another round."

“Course he is.” Mattie clenched her jaw, twisting to face the man. “What do you want now?”

It took him a full second to focus on her. “I want to know what your problem is.”

“My problem is that I’m tryin’ to have a peaceful evenin’, and you keep botherin’ me.”

“I’m just trying to be friendly.” He leaned closer, his breath making her nose crinkle. “What, you’re too good for a conversation?”

“Is that what you call this?�� Mattie looked at him coolly, her lip curling. “If you want to talk so badly, go pay someone for it.”

He flushed a dark red when Flora snickered, something ugly flashing across his face. “You really think you’re better than me, huh.”

“Oh no, I wouldn’t go that far, but at least I don’t spend my time harassin’ folk and—what was that other part again?”

She pretended to mull it over before snapping her fingers. “Oh right. I don’t smell like fucking pig shit.”

Mattie raised her bottle in a sarcastic salute and turned back toward the bar, already anticipating his next move.

Sure enough, he grabbed her arm and tugged her toward him. “We aren’t done talk—"

The words cut off in a howl of pain when Mattie deftly flipped her bottle and smashed it against his face. He stumbled backwards and tripped over a chair, taking another man down with him as he fell.

The uproar was immediate. A few people ran for the exit, but the drunkest men joined the fray—hooting and hollering as they laid into one another.

Mattie didn’t wait to see the outcome. She sidestepped two brawling men and beelined it toward the exit, dodging neatly out of the way when someone ran past with a chair and threw it through the window with a whoop.

She’d almost reached the saloon doors when a hand clamped down on her arm and yanked her backwards.

Mattie twisted, catching a flash of Pig Shit’s bloodied face right before he plowed her in the cheek.

She spun with the force of the blow, tasting blood as pain erupted across her entire face. Mattie barely avoided his next few swings, landing a single punch before he decked her again.

Her vision went white. She flew into a table and crashed to the floor, shot glasses and bottles raining down around her.

Mattie struggled to her knees, shards of glass digging into her skin. Pig Shit’s boots appeared in her line of vision, the leather worn and muddied.

“Not so superior now, huh,” he sneered, kicking aside her hat as she spat out blood. “Bet you’re regretting that smart mouth of your—"

He staggered when something connected with his head, his expression frozen in surprise for the briefest second before he crumpled in a heap.

“With a mouth that big, he’s sure one to talk,” Flora said disdainfully, tossing aside the broken table leg while Mattie gaped at her. “Come on, sunshine—on your feet.”

“I’m surprised you’re still here,” Mattie panted as Flora hauled her up and pushed her hat into her hands. “Figured you’d be long gone.”

“Well, you’re glad I’m not, right?” Flora retorted, her gaze locking onto something across the bar. Mattie wiped at her bloody lip and looked over her shoulder.

Two of the poker players—likely Pig Shit’s buddies—were shoving their way through the crowd in their direction.

“Can you run?” Flora asked urgently, grasping her wrist.

“I think so.”

“Then run,” she ordered, already tugging Mattie towards the exit.

They shouldered through the saloon doors and raced across the street, Flora leading them into a dark alleyway between a row of buildings and a fence where several people were loitering.

Without warning, Flora pulled off her hat and crowded her against the wall, pinning their hats between them.

“What’re you doin’,” Mattie hissed as Flora casually wrapped her arms around her waist. “This is the opposite of runnin’.”

“It’s called hiding in plain sight,” Flora whispered, settling into the embrace. She was a few inches shorter than Mattie, her temple fitting perfectly in the curve of her jaw. “Play along.”

Mattie bit back a retort when footsteps echoed down the alley, bowing her head as the men ran past—but young lovers hiding in the shadows was nothing unusual, and they didn’t so much as spare them a glance.

Flora stepped away as soon as the footsteps receded, placing her hat on her head. “Where’s your horse? You might be able to sneak away without them noticing.”

Mattie rested against the wall, biting back a wince while she probed at her cheek. Her left eye was already swollen shut. “The only place I’m goin’ tonight is a hotel.”

“Right,” Flora said, drawing out the word into multiple syllables and somehow injecting skepticism in all of them. “And you’re doing that why…?”

“’Cause they’ll be expectin’ me to jump town tonight,” Mattie explained. “Better to hunker down now and head out early.”

“That’s…actually pretty smart.”

She sounded insultingly impressed. Mattie huffed. “Give me some credit here.”

“The hotel is just around the corner,” Flora said, ignoring her. “We should head there now before our new friends decide to come calling again.”

Mattie looked at her sharply. “We?”

“You’re not the only one in danger,” Flora said, her tone losing some of the levity that’d been there all night. “They’ll be looking for me too.”

Mattie shook her head, too tired to argue. “Fine, but you’re not—"

“—your friend,” she broke in, raising an eyebrow. “I know.”

“No, that’s not—” Mattie put on her hat and pulled some coins from her pocket, pushing them into Flora’s hand. “I was gonna say that you don’t need to pay for the rooms since it’s my fault you’re in this mess.”

Flora gazed down at her palm for a moment, looking taken aback for the first time that day. Her eyes were bright when she glanced up, a smile tugging at her lips. “Thanks, partner.”

Mattie grunted and made her way toward the street. Flora fell into step beside her, undeterred. “Buddy?”

“No.”

“Pal?”

“Ugh.”

She thought for a moment before snapping her fingers. “Compadre.”

“Don’t push your luck,” Mattie warned without heat, tilting her hat down to hide her smile when Flora just laughed.

“Maybe you should stay here,” Flora suggested when they reached the hotel. Light spilled through the windows, casting flickering shadows across her face. “You might, uh—”

Mattie snorted, sinking into a squat beside the water barrel sitting on the edge of the hotel porch. “Draw some attention?”

“Just a little,” Flora agreed. She hesitated, then untied the red bandana from her neck and held it out. “Here, sunshine. Your lip is bleeding again.”

“Mattie,” she corrected, gratefully accepting the piece of cloth. She realized Flora was staring at her after a second. “My name’s Mattie.”

“Mattie,” Flora said slowly, like she was testing the weight on her tongue. “It suits you.”

She looked up, caught off guard by the sincerity in her voice. Flora was already walking away, her boots clunking softly across the wood.

Mattie exhaled and pressed the bandana to her mouth. It smelled like clean linen and something slightly floral.

She closed her eye and leaned her head against the barrel, breathing in the scent of water-soaked wood. Her face throbbed, the pressure almost unbearable around her eye socket.

Someone was humming nearby, the tune fading in and out. A horse walked past on the street, its hooves thudding against the packed dirt road.

Mattie didn’t realize she’d dozed off until someone touched her shoulder. She jerked away, her hand shooting to her knife, but it was just Flora.

She pushed unsteadily to her feet. “We good?”

“Kinda. They only had one room left,” Flora said, trading a key and the remaining coins for her bandana. “You alright with sharing for the night?”

Mattie shrugged one shoulder. “If you wanted me dead, you’ve had a few chances.”

“And we’ve already established you have nothing worth robbing,” Flora joked, moving toward the hotel entrance.

“That too,” she said dryly, tipping her hat over her face as they passed the front desk and climbed a creaky set of stairs.

The room was surprisingly spacious, with a lit hearth and two neatly made beds.

Flora opened the window while Mattie tossed her hat onto the closest bed and went over to the washstand.

She pulled a towel from the rack and poured water into the basin, wincing when she caught sight of her reflection. Shit.

Flora was watching her when she turned around, her bottom lip caught between her teeth. “That’s looking pretty bad.”

“Feels worse,” Mattie muttered, sitting on her bed and balancing the basin on her lap.

She wet the cloth, pausing when Flora stepped in front of her and touched her wrist.

“Let me help you with that,” she offered softly, waiting until Mattie gave a terse nod before sliding the cloth from her hand.

Flora retrieved the chair from the corner of the room and sat down, shifting forward until her knee bumped into her thigh. Mattie tensed when she grasped her chin, her fingers cool against her overheated skin.

“So, ‘peaceful evening,’ huh,” Flora said, dabbing the cloth against her lip. “I hate to see when you really let loose.”

“I doubt you could handle it,” Mattie said more airily than she felt, her eye darting to Flora’s face when she laughed.

“Oh, I think what I can handle would surprise you,” she said lightly, her fingertips sliding across Mattie’s jaw as she turned her face—the pale imitation of a tender touch.

“Why’re you helpin’ me so much?” Mattie demanded, feeling suddenly defensive.

Flora glanced at her through her lashes, a ghost of a smile on her lips. “Maybe I have a soft spot for underdogs.”

She bristled. “I’m not a charity case.”

“And I’m not your enemy,” Flora said quietly, her thumb resting on the soft underside of Mattie’s chin. “Besides, everyone needs a little help now and then—even tough cowboys like you.”

Flora dipped the cloth in the basin and ran the cloth over her swollen cheek, the motion achingly gentle—and Mattie abruptly realized the answer to her own question.

Kind. Flora was helping her because she was kind.

Mattie shot Flora a subtle glance, her eye moving from the furrow of concentration between her brows to the soft curve of her face.

Flora lifted her arm to inspect the cuts left behind from the broken glass, the motion causing Mattie’s knuckles to skim against her shirt.

Thunder rumbled in the distance, followed by the soft patter of raindrops against the window. A gust of wind fluttered the curtains, filling the room with the scent of rain.

“There,” Flora said after securing a makeshift bandage over the deepest cut, sitting back in the chair as she surveyed her handiwork. “Good as new.”

“Just about,” Mattie said, cradling her arm to her chest. She hunched in on herself when Flora smiled, the skin at the corner of her eyes crinkling. “What?”

“You aren’t so tough, are you? You just need someone to look after you.”

“Yeah yeah,” Mattie muttered, her cheeks warming. She picked at a thread on her pants as Flora stood and stretched her arms over her head. “Hey, uh…”

Flora looked at her, letting her arms drop to her sides.

“Thank you.” Her eye darted to Flora and away again. “For everythin’.”

Mattie stared fixedly at the peeling wallpaper, but she could still feel Flora’s smile. “You’re welcome.”

_________

Mattie woke early the next morning, her entire face aching.

She stared blearily at the ceiling, breathing through the pain for a few minutes before sitting up and pulling on her boots.

It was still dark out, the only light coming from the dying embers of the fire. Mattie put on her hat, glancing at where Flora was sprawled across the other bed. For a moment, she thought about leaving her.

The impulse faded as quickly as it had come. It would’ve been a shit way to repay her kindness.

“Flora,” she said quietly, touching her shoulder. Flora sat up, instantly—enviably—awake. “We should go before the sun is up.”

They left the hotel a few minutes later and retrieved their horses from the hitching post in front of the saloon, following the road northeast until the town had disappeared behind them.

The ground was still wet from the rain, mud splattering onto their boots while they rode and a cool breeze ruffling their hair.

When the town was several miles behind them, they paused beside a river to refill their canteens while the first glint of sunlight pressed through the trees.

“Your horse is beautiful,” Flora said, shaking her hair loose from its ties and redoing her braids. “She seems so sweet.”

“Looks can be deceivin’,” Mattie said with a snort, glancing at where June was drinking from the river. “Tamin’ her cost me a sprained ankle and two cracked ribs. June’s a feisty one.”

“Just like her rider,” Flora teased, grinning when Mattie scoffed. She swept her braids over her shoulder and nodded at her horse. “Meanwhile, Bandit would gladly sell my soul for a peppermint.”

Mattie released a startled laugh. “Everyone has their price.”

“Oh! Speaking of...” Flora rummaged in her saddle bag and tossed Mattie a small sack. “Your cut.”

“My cut?” Mattie frowned and opened the bag, nearly choking when she saw the contents. “Where the hell you get this?”

“From the saloon,” Flora said innocently, her eyes shining. “I took the liberty of robbing the place blind after the fight broke out.”

Mattie gaped at her. “But why are you givin’ me half your share?”

“Because you started the fight.”

“You are somethin’ else,” Mattie said, shaking her head and stowing the money in her saddle bags. “How’d you get so good at stealin’, anyways?”

“Lots of practice,” Flora said, looking pleased as punch. She pulled a cigarette from her pocket and lit it, inhaling deeply. “Your brand of chaos isn’t half bad either.”

Warmth flooded her cheeks. Matie retrieved a cigarette too, more for something to do with her hands than because she wanted a smoke.

She put the cigarette between her lips and patted her pockets for a match before abruptly remembering the previous day.

“Goddammit,” she sighed, shaking her head when Flora looked at her questioningly. “I meant to pick up matches in town, but then—”

“You picked a fight instead?”

“Well—yes, but—” Mattie smiled winningly, the cigarette still between her lips. “These things happen.”

“For some more than others, I imagine,” she laughed, exhaling a cloud of smoke from the side of her mouth. “Come here.”

Flora leaned forward, tilting up her face so the ends of their cigarettes touched. Her eyes flickered up for a breath, the light catching on her face.

Mattie had spent time in Arizona before realizing how much she’d preferred the plains and forests to the unyielding heat of a semi-desert, but the land out there had been something special.

The ring of color around Flora’s pupil was the exact same shade as the rocks had been in the soft light of morning, a richness and depth of color that faded into the same warm tones found in coffee or the earth.

And then Flora straightened, leaving Mattie to take a deep, shaky drag of her cigarette.

She held the smoke in her lungs before releasing it through her nose. “So, where’re you headed next?”

“I was thinking of going to a town about twenty miles north of here,” Flora said, flicking cinders from the end of her cigarette.

“I know the place,” Mattie said, cutting her eye to the side. “It’s more of a proper city than this dump was.”

“Exactly.” Flora grinned, propping a hand on her hip. “Lots of places for folks to drop some money or lose some valuables.”

Mattie chuckled. “Oh, I’m sure.”

“What about you?” Flora asked once they’d finished their cigarettes and had mounted their horses. “More bar fights in your future?”

“Not for the time bein,’ no,” Mattie said, leaning down to stroke June’s neck. “I was plannin’ on headin’ north too. You know, if you don’t mind ridin’ together for a bit.”

“That depends.” Flora tilted her head, a mischievous glint in her eyes. “You always this much trouble?”

“Sometimes,” Mattie admitted, leaning forward in the saddle. “But I can usually make it worth your while.”

“Somehow I don’t doubt it,” Flora said, her smile as bright as the new day. “Lead on, sunshine.”

Mattie ducked her head to hide her own smile, facing the horizon.

Together, they rode towards it.

#mattie and flora #flora and mattie #cowbians #cowboy lesbians #wlw #cowboys #fanfiction #fanfic #rdr2

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eyesthecolorofarson · 10 months

Text

It’s a meme, Batman

Bruce never thought he would say this, but he regrets pushing Damian to make friends.

If he’d known all those years ago it would result in a media scandal that was practically a cosmic watergate, he would have kept Damian confined to the cave for the rest of his life. The worst part was that it was all harmless, just teenagers having fun on an improve show.

He’d gotten the link to the livestream through Oracle, who’d been laughing so hard he was worried she’d been injected with Joker venom. He got more worried when her laughter increased at the knowledge the whole family was in the cave. She insisted he play the livestream on the main computer, and like a fool, he’d trusted her and did just that.

It looked to be….the improve show Whose line is it, anyway? But the usual comedians, Ryan Stiles, Colin Morchie and Wayne Brady were sitting next to host Drew Carey and—Damian in his Robin uniform, Phantom, Superboy, Royal, Fireworks, and Wendigo. He heard the others laugh and ask the appropriate question ‘what the fuck is he doing??’ A question he himself was asking.

He took a step back to asses the situation; Royal, Dove Elopeman, was a metahuman born in Lapa, Rio Di Janiero who was apart of the new batch of superheroes. Royal had bronze skin a similar shade to Damian’s, with black wavy hair just below her shoulders and purple eyes. Royal was brought in fairly quickly after Martian Manhunter realized just how powerful her mind-control ability was, after he’d spent three months under her control, during which she found and took control of Khloé Kardashian and not only robbed her but blew up her house. She had a surprisingly pronounced figure for her age, 14, and used her body to get close to people and then take them down, usually incredibly violently. Royal showed no remorse for her incredible viciousness, due to her usual targets being sex traffickers and pedophiles.

Fireworks, Lydia Lippet, was a metahuman born in Perth, Scotland who has the odd ability to bring anything she draws to life. Fireworks was African with curly hair dyed baby blue styled in a side-parted bob, with metallic gold eyes. This ability was realized at a young age, but thankfully her parents didn’t use it for their own gain. Her parents raised her as if it was perfectly normal, and Fireworks did nothing too extreme with her powers until she was 13, when she brought a Pokémon into existence, the first time she brought something to life with her powers. This immediately made the Justice League aware of her existence, and once the JLD looked into her and went ballistic at the implications of what she was capable of, essentially forced them to bring her in as a new hero. Thankfully she was open to the idea, but unfortunately also expressed no remorse or sympathy for her actions.

Wendigo is the newest, and most unfortunate case. She had silver skin and was tall, about 6’9, and usually her hair was white but now for some reason it was hot pink. It was still incredibly long, almost touching her ankles, and her eyes were ultramarine blue. Research shows that before she was born the Native American tribe she was apart of went through a famine, in which many of her tribe resorted to cannibalism in order to survive. The reason her parents abandoned her deep in the Canadian forests is largely unknown, as is her parents location and names, but it is abundantly obvious they had committed cannibalism, which apparently caused a spirit of winter to latch onto her as a fetus and merge with her body and soul. That’s what the LJD concluded after a three-day long ‘study’ of her. This ‘study’ was concluded after Wendigo was rescued from Lexcorp, having mutilated and eaten over thirty of his men and injured Luthor himself. She didn’t speak, and only communicated with sounds and birdcalls, and, like the others, was violent without remorse.

Phantom was somehow the easiest to understand. He had light blue grey skin and pure white hair, as well as Lazarus green eyes, tongue, and blood. An Ohio resident, Danny Fenton was recruited after the Justice League investigated the Ghost Investigation Ward and the Anti-Ecto Acts, after it was found he was not only partially undead but also the only person capable of fighting against these world-ending threats without rascist-like judgement. Phantom was nervous about joining, mostly because of Deadman’s constant harassment about being ‘twinzies’ but agreed on the notion that his sister would get a full ride into any college she wanted. Phantom isn’t violent on purpose, but ends up being so due to him not knowing how to hold back.

Phantom was one stage with Damian, while the girls and Superboy were sitting with the host and other comedians. Everyone was laughing, and even Damian had a slight smirk on his face. Royal reached into the hat and pulled out a slip of paper, snorting and covering her mouth as she read the slip. “Batman….interrogating the Joker.” “Roll for an image!” Fireworks called, her accent thick as she pressed a button that caused the projector to roll through a variety of images before stopping on a very odd one that caused Tim to choke and Stephanie to begin roaring with laughter.

It was two over-sexualized wolf woman wearing skimpy clothes with different game logos with the words ‘Face it, you’d play with both of them’. Phantom leaned back and hovered in the air, laughing as Damian turned to fireworks with a raised eyebrow. “I didn’t choose it, it’s just from the internet.” Fireworks drawled, taking a hit from her vape and blowing pink smoke out through her nose. Damian and Phantom stared at each other for a second before they both smirked, Phantom cracking his knuckles before leaning forward. At Drew Carey’s mark, the bit began.

Phantom and Damian stared at each other in silence for a second before Damian, in a perfect impression of Bruces voice, said “What is this.” Phantom, in the Jokers voice, replied “It’s a meme, Batman.” Immediately the crowd, and his children, were roaring with laughter. He could already feel the building dread. “I don’t understand.” Damian said in his voice. “What do you not understand?” Phantom replied in Jokers, somehow sounding tired of him at the same time.

“I don’t get the joke.” God, how was Damian making him sound exactly like him but also so pathetic at the same time? “Well, you see, people only usually play on one console.” Phantom held up a finger as he levitated in the air in a casual position, making the room(and his children)laugh again. He motioned to the picture. “But both these woman are so attractive, you’d wanna to play with both.” Phantom playfully stuck his tongue out at the end, to the humor of everyone.

“But they aren’t consouls.” Damian said in his voice. Phantom pulled out his phone and began pretending to text. The crowd and his kids laughed again. “The shirts their wearing have the consul logos on the—“ “What are you, some kind of furry?” Oh god how did he learn that? Another part of his brain knew that realistically it wasn’t that outlandish, but it felt like just yesterday he was eight and had brought home a cat he’d named after Alfred.

“You’re the one here wearing an animal costume.” Phantom still sounded judgmental, and for a second it was silent before Damian grabbed him and slammed his head into the wall. The crowd and his kids laughed again, and Drew Carey called scene. He looked back at his kids. Dick, Tim, Duke and Stephanie were sitting and roaring with laughter. Cass was kneeling down and trying to help Jason, who was curled into a ball on the ground and crying with laughter.

“I think the best part about this….” Drew started, but stopped to laugh again before continuing, “I think the best part about this is the implication that Batman knows enough about internet lingo to know what a furry is, but not enough to understand memes.” Damian nodded at him. “That is a true statement.” The crowd, and his kids, laughed again. He felt the dread grow at Phantoms motion for silence.

“I’ve had this one saved in my note app the day the interview was shared.” He grinned, before clearing his throat and speaking in Jokers voice. “You know, my father….”

Jason gasped and sat up, whispering in joyful disbelief, “oh my god.”

“…..was a gamer.”

Everyone began laughing so hard he almost couldn’t hear his brain imploding. Jason was choking on his tears, Colin Mochrie had his head on the table, Wendigo was looking around from her seat like a confused puppy. “….And a weeb.” Jason fell back and Cass was hovering, unsure if he was actually in pain or not. Dick dropped down to help, but he was also laughing so hard he was falling over.

“And one night….he got gassed up on his G-fuel CRAZIER than usual….” Fireworks began slamming her fist on the table, wheezing with excitement and leaning again Superboy, who was coughing on his laughter. “Mommy grabs the Wi-Fi to defend herself. He doesn’t like that….” He leans forward, grinning like a Cheshire Cat. “Not…..one……bit.”

“So….” Phantom almost broke character at Wayne Brady saying ‘I’m crying’ in a choked voice. “He takes out his phone and turns on his 4G.” Phantom was leaning forward so much Damian had to lean back. “He turns off the Wi-Fi on his PC and connects to his phone….” He leaned forward again, making Damian lean back even more. “….laughing while he does it.”

“My mother can’t stand the sight of him!” Jason and Dick were now laying next to each other, Cass making very worried hand motions. Stephanie was making calls and spreading the word of this live-stream. Duke looked dead. Tim was calling Conner to inform him of his little brothers whereabouts, also crying.

“She just wants to have dinner….TOGETHER….and not have him have KFC in his room anymore!” The crowd is roaring with laughter. Wendigo was chirping worryingly at Superboy, who was crying like Royal and Fireworks. Phantom watches the crowd laugh. “They eventually get a divorce.” This causes everyone to begin laughing again. Bruce felt like dying as his phone begins to ring, the caller ID telling him it was Barry Allen.

#danny phantom au #dp x dc au #original character #really spur of the moment thing #Also sorta helping me with character design #damian wayne #jon kent #danny fenton #danny phantom

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