#he tries to be nice to one (1) single human and it's not even appreciated 😞

[ruskaroma]

ordinary, corrupt human love. | chapter 1: written in blood.

Warnings: this series will include highly disturbing/dark topics such as stalking, unhealthy obsession, graphic descriptions of violence, blood and gore, manipulation, gaslighting, large age gap, emotional/psychological abuse, dom/sub undertones, bad BDSM etiquette, etc.

this is a dark fic, written in john's pov and a glimpse of how his mind works. if you still continue to read and get triggered, that is not my responsibility.

Summary: John finds himself a new obsession.

Author's note: this is my first ever fanfic for this fandom and i am beyond excited to share this with you guys! though i must say before you begin, english is not my first language and there might be a few errors in my writing here and there, so i apologize in advance.

but either way, i still hope you enjoy this piece, and i can assure you that once i finish writing this series there will be more to come! i really enjoy writing john wick be a merciless bastard who kills everything that breathes, and i hope you enjoy it too as much as i did.

please, please, PLEASE tell me what you think in the comment and reblogs and likes would be so appreciated. it motivates me to write even more :)

(also this is not edited so all mistakes are on me and i apologize)

Word count: 8.1k

also read on ao3.

It’s one of those days again.

The sound of his watch ticking is the only thing keeping his car from being too quiet. His eyes watch every single movement of his target, never leaving his sight. It won’t be too long for John to finally strike, he just doesn’t want too many civilians seeing the horror that’s about to happen right before their very eyes.

His mind is thinking of many things he could do with this target in particular. A lowlife thug that got himself involved with a very dangerous Italian mob, but then again that’s not the reason why John’s murderous intent is at its peak at the moment.

He’s angry at something, he just doesn’t know what. And this target of his isn’t helping his situation at all. Reading his criminal record made John think this could be a chance to cure his boredom. This man is not only a sex trafficker, but also a pedophile who has a history of targeting teenagers to rape and sell to the black market that’s as fucked up as him.

He doesn’t normally take his time thinking of ways to kill his targets. He points, shoots, leaves. This one in particular though, got him facing a side of him that John himself doesn’t want to face.

He would start by breaking every single one of the man’s fingers. And if that doesn’t do any justice, he’ll cut them off.

One by one, let the man savor the feeling, let John relish the nightmare.

He could slit the man’s throat, watch as life drains away from his body, watch as the man clings to his legs for mercy. John could even pull out the man’s dick, step on it, fucking cut it off and shove it so far down his own throat that he couldn’t scream for help if he tried.

It’s John’s version of Colombian Necktie. A classic, only ever tried it out four times, hopefully this would be the fifth.

John is never the one to take pleasure in killing people, but these past few months have proved him otherwise.

Maybe it’s because of Helen’s death, and the way he was basically forced to sculpt the demons he buried back into himself. His only remaining bit of humanity was taken from him, and he’s coping in the most unhealthy way possible. Perhaps Winston was right about dipping his pinky a little too much into the pond, but it was inevitable.

John has gone back to his old ways. Taking contracts here and there to distract himself from the void in his heart. He remembers how burying a knife into someone’s throat for the first time in many years has ignited something in him he didn’t even know he had.

That’s why he’s here, exiting his car in a swift move, following his target as quietly as possible into a narrow alleyway that stinks of garbage in piss. This would be a nice place to kill a guy like him – right where he belongs.

John’s movements are so discreet the man couldn’t even sense him until John wrapped his right arm around his neck and his other hand went to cover the man’s mouth. He walks them both to the back of a building as the man struggles, where John’s sure no more people are present, and he kicks him on the jaw to stop the man from making any more noises.

John can make this quick. Pull out his gun and blow his brains out. But there’s that sinister glint in his mind that’s telling him to do something unimaginable – grotesque even – a death a man like him deserves.

The man tries to swing his arm at John but misses pathetically. The poor guy’s already shaking and John hasn’t even begun.

John doesn’t respond to the pitiful attempts of questioning who he is and who sent him here, he simply pulls his knife from his pocket and wastes no time slashing it against the man’s throat, the blood spraying all over his face. The man tries to stop it by shakily covering the deep cut with his hand, but it’s useless.

He’s gargling, choking on his own blood, and John’s watching it all unravel with a familiar glint in his eyes.

John is contemplating if he should follow the plan he made in his head or just leave it like this. Somehow, the sight looks rather incomplete to him. He knows what he’s done is not enough, but that could be just the rage talking. The man’s already dead, and surely cutting off his dick and shoving it so far down his throat it comes out of the wound would leave an ugly reputation on his name. 

Would that be a good thing? John is already feared enough, would it be a good thing to make people fear him even more? But then again, this won’t be the first time he’s done it. Doing it again one more time wouldn’t make any difference.

He glances down at the dead body on his feet before he kneels down to do the unforgivable.

Slicing off a man’s cock is easy. Too easy. John’s knife is perfectly sharpened and stoned, he merely uses any strength to cut it off. The sight is so fucking ugly, too much blood, but nothing he can’t handle.

Once that’s done, John uses his other hand to force the dead man’s jaw open, immediately greeted by the foul stench of blood as he shoves the unpleasant dick into the man’s open mouth. The genitalia is definitely not long enough to reach the throat, but that won’t be any problem for John.

He grits his teeth as he forces his hand in there, not bothering to care even if the jaw breaks and the hole becomes even wider, his goal is the only thing in his mind.

The blood continues to drip and he has never been so grateful for wearing an all black uniform for this occasion. Soon enough, after a few minutes of such a brutal wrongdoing, John sees the tip of the cock reaching the deep wound on the man’s throat as it continues to peak its way out.

A sick, small smile spreads across John’s face. The smile is barely there, but he’s fucking enjoying this more than he’d like to admit. He can only imagine how the news would spread across the assassin underworld like a wildfire.

The Boogeyman’s back in business and he’s scarier than ever.

Perhaps this might be the way to lay his point across. This is a way to show them that it was not a good idea pissing him off, killing what’s his, and bringing him back in business. They’d regret it, but it would be already too late for that.

John uses his other hand to pull the cock right out of the man’s throat but not completely. Half of it is hanging out and John thinks he could even consider this as a masterpiece. There’d be flies and maggots that would make the scenery better, but the cleaning service is there for a reason. He can’t just not use it.

John stands up from his position, pocketing his knife back into his pocket before retrieving his phone with the other. He dials a number, waits for them to pick up, all while admiring his work on the ground.

His previous contracts these past few months all ended in such an unimaginable, ugly way. He figured that by showing them that he’s capable of such brutality, it would increase the numbers of people calling him in for more jobs, because this is exactly what they wanted. They wanted Baba Yaga, the ruthless killer of the underworld who stops at nothing to finish his job, and he’s simply giving it to them.

Someone picks up the call and he straightens his posture, checking the time on his watch before speaking.

“This is Wick. John Wick, yes. I would like to make a dinner reservation for one.”

The news spread faster than anticipated.

The notorious man John Wick, the hot topic of the criminal underworld at the moment, even gained the attention of The High Table, and it all happened in the span of one day. That’s how quick the news spread amongst his fellow assassins, though that’s exactly what he was going for.

John expected it so he isn’t surprised when he receives a call from Charon saying Winston wants to meet him.

He inserts a coin in the door and the small window opened briefly. The guy on the other side immediately recognized him, not wasting a single moment to open the door and let the man of the hour in. All eyes are on him the moment he steps into the club, but no one dared to murmur anything to anybody – not when the man himself is here.

They know better.

John spots Winston at his usual spot drinking his usual order, signaling John to sit beside him where a glass of bourbon is already present. 

“Jonathan,” Winston greets, raising his glass. “We have a lot to talk about, don’t we?”

“I figured,” John replies, though not interested. He slides himself to the booth and takes a sip of his own drink. “I don’t understand why though.”

“Are we really playing this game, Jonathan?” The manager raises a brow. 

“I was just doing my job.”

“In a way you don’t normally do,” Winston then adds. “Or should I say, in a way you don’t even do.”

John gives him a look, but he could tell Winston doesn’t know how to interpret it. His face remains emotionless, not letting the mask slip and grant Winston the privilege to take a peak. John will continue to play this game until he’s satisfied, until he feels something again. Surely he’ll find what he’s looking for while doing the only thing he’s ever good at – slaughtering.

“Let’s just say I was trying out a new technique,” John says, voice deep and almost sinister. Winston’s scared, though he doesn’t show it, John knows. 

“I have known you ever since you started, Jonathan. Not once did it cross my mind you would do something so.. horrifying as this. You discarded the body like he was some sort of pig, so believe me when I say I couldn’t believe it at first.”

John has no idea why Winston’s whining about him being horrifying, when that’s all they’ve been saying about him ever since he joined. He didn’t gain this reputation for no reason, now he’s just simply showing them what more he’s capable of.

“You should’ve seen his record.” His tone is menacing, swirling the drink in his hand as he stares deeply at Winston’s eyes. “He’s worse than a pig.”

The drop of the curse word takes Winston by surprise. “So is that what it is, then? You killed him that way because you think he deserved it?”

“Not really,” John simply sighs, leaning back on the leather seat as he takes another sip of his bourbon. He really isn’t planning on staying longer, but Winston seems to be taking his sweet time asking him a bunch of stupid questions. “I couldn’t care less of what he’s done. I was simply… bored. Saying that I did that because I think he deserved it gives people a reason to think that what I did was justifiable.”

The look on Winston’s face says enough. He’s afraid of John, afraid of what he has become. Hearing John say he did such an unforgiving thing just because he was bored is beyond frightening. No man has ever inflicted so much fear on him before – at least not until John.

“I think we’re done for tonight,” Winston finally says, not wanting to hear any more disturbing thoughts of John, but he remains polite and calm for the sake of their friendship. “You have a good night, Jonathan.”

John gives him a nod, standing up from his seat and downing his drink in one go. “Goodnight, Winston.”

He exits the club with an eerie aura following behind him, not caring about the way people are looking at him like he’s got Death himself walking beside him.

It makes him wonder that maybe death doesn’t follow him after all.

Maybe it is him.

Someone offered him five million to fuck up a man who allegedly stole a fuck ton of kilograms of cocaine from their warehouse, and really, who is John to decline the offer?

Hunting the man is easy. It didn’t even take a day to locate where the man lives, and John’s already breaking into his apartment to shoot the guy and leave. There’s no point in rummaging the place for the cocaine, all of it is already up the man’s system by the looks of it, and killing him is John’s job.

John wants to finish this one fast, he’s got other business to attend to. As he backs up the frightened, pathetic excuse for a man against the wall, he takes his gun out of his holster and aims directly at the head, right between the eyes, and he watches in great pleasure as the residue of his brains splatter against the walls and the floor.

This man didn’t even put up a fight. John thinks this is a waste of time.

He exits the apartment with disappointment heavy on his shoulders, slamming the door shut. Although the gun he used has a silencer, the rooms are too close to each other. He’s sure there might be other people who heard the shot of his firearm.

The apartment building is located at the filthy side of New York, where most known drug dealers and junkies do their nasty deals. It’s no surprise that as soon as John steps a foot out of the worn out building, all eyes are on him, but mainly on the clothes he’s wearing. They’re planning on mugging him out, and John would like to see them try.

Just as he’s about to walk to his car, his phone rings abruptly in his chest pocket. He retrieves it in one swift motion, not noticing that a gold coin fell out as he does so, and he continues walking to not waste any more time.

“Sir! Excuse me, sir, you dropped something!” John hears from behind. He doesn’t bother looking.

The call isn’t nearly as important as the business he needs to attend to, so he hangs up the call and pushes his phone back into his pocket. As soon as he does that, he feels a small hand touching his shoulder.

John’s hand immediately flies to wrap his large hand around the person’s wrist, turning around to see a young woman with a bewildered expression on her pretty face, little fingers holding his golden coin that looks far too big on her hand.

She looks scared, terrified, and oh how fucking awful that makes John feel. Like he’s been punched right in the fucking gut. He’s enthralled.

“I wasn’t–you dropped it and I’m just giving it to you, I promise!”

She’s looking at John with big, doe eyes. She also looks freshly showered, wrapped in a black puffy jacket that makes her even smaller than she already is. John lets his eyes linger on her lips, so plump and glossy. Her voice sounds sweet, soft, something John isn’t used to hearing.

John can’t help but to stare.

“Are you–are you gonna let me go, mister?”

The way she stutters triggers a hot feeling in John’s guts, and can’t help but to rub his thumb on the girl’s dainty wrist before slowly letting her go.

So delicate, he could snap them in half.

“Sorry,” John apologizes, taking the coin from her hold, and his fingers itch at the way her skin feels so soft against his rough hands. “Force of habit.”

“It’s okay,” she smiles a little, and there goes that hot curl in John’s stomach once again. “That thing looks expensive so be careful next time.”

Just like that, John doesn’t get the chance to reply back. She makes her leave and patters away from him, and he watches. He watches until she’s out of the view, taking a turn to a corner, leaving John with something he can’t quite figure out yet, but he soon will be.

For the first time in a while, he feels something new.

Suddenly, everything is too good to be true.

John will find himself staring at his hands for too long, still feeling the ghost of her soft skin on his fingers, fantasizing about her pretty face and soft, plump lips.

It’s scary for him to feel something again because that only means destruction. John likes to believe he has a gift of ruining everything he touches, especially the pure ones – like her. It’s a proven statement. Just look at Helen and Daisy.

This little one won’t be any different, he’s sure of it. John’s whole body is heating up everytime he thinks about her. The look on her face when she saw John’s chilling expression, her wide eyes, so glossy and innocent.

John wants to see her again.

His fingers itch, yearning to touch her again. 

Why he’s suddenly interested in a young woman he just met a few days ago, he has no idea. John’s a bit confusing – fucked up, even. He long accepted the fact that his mind is nowhere near healthy years ago. He tried to push those thoughts away when he met Helen, but now he’s out of his shell and back in business, there’s no need to.

He’s always been one of the wolves, and now that he’s laid his eyes on his next meal, he will make sure there’s not a single thing that will get in his way to hunt her down.

He had a crisis for two days before doing the unexpected. It didn’t take long for John to find her. 

Now, John has been following her around for a week, and he noticed a certain pattern his little one likes to follow as she goes on her day.

The very place where they met is where she lives, surrounded by a bunch of goons who have no idea what to do with their lives. John begins to wonder why she’s living in a place like that. He could take her, put her somewhere safe, under his care and protection. Make sure no one will dare to lay a finger on her.

John knows where she works. At a veterinary clinic not too far from her apartment, which is why she walks to work every three in the afternoon, but not without stopping by in her favorite deli and getting a large order of her favorite sandwich. She’s a part-timer. She’d be at school from seven to twelve, and at work from three to eight.

John finds the little things she does amusing. He’d be seated in a cafe right across from her work, watching how she moves around her office through a big window, petting and cooing at the animals who come and go.

She’s so perfect, so pure, so naive. She has no idea that a monster is lurking ten feet away from her, watching her every move like a hawk, thinking about the ways he could destroy her, make her his.

John is not delusional. He’s fully aware of what he’s doing and he’s aware of what people might call him. 

Stalker.

Creep.

They don’t know him though. They don’t know why he acts this way. They’d do the same if they were him, that’s for sure. He’s not the bad guy here, he’s simply just protecting her little one, even from afar. John went as far as destroying a whole Russian Bratva for a mere puppy and a car, he’d do even worse if she’s somehow taken away from him.

John sees her exiting the building and his first thought is to follow her. He stands up from his seat, the cup of coffee long forgotten as he makes his way out of the café and keeps a safe distance between the two of them. It’s risky, especially in the broad daylight, but John knows she’s too oblivious to notice.

She’s with her friends this time, and it doesn’t go unnoticed by John how she clings at the shirt of her co-worker as they cross the street, small hands fisting at the fabric. He thinks about how he won’t ever let go of her hand once she’s his. He’s not big on physical affection, having to grow up with no parents and a rather strict orphanage, but maybe he could be gentle. Engulf her hand in his, stroke it with his thumb, tuck her hair behind her ears, show everyone that she’s already owned.

They wouldn’t dare to lay their hands on her again.

John walks in the middle of the sidewalk, not bothering to move away despite seeing people approaching. He doesn’t need to, the look in his face is enough for people to give him the way. It’s interrupted however, when someone does try to get in his way, placing a hand on his chest and pushing him back a little.

John clenches his jaw, pissed. He takes his eyes from his little one and on the person who so rudely interrupted what he’s doing – it’s Marcus.

“John? I was just looking for you at the Continental.” Marcus has a small smile on his face, clearly not aware of John’s expression.

His eyes dart behind Marcus, where his little one is supposed to be, but she’s gone. John feels something curl in his stomach, his fingers itching again, eyes rapidly searching for her in the sea of people.

He looks at Marcus again, deciding he’ll just find her later, but he worries that something might happen to her now that John’s attention isn’t on her.

“Why?” he almost snaps, voice deep and laced with no emotion.

“Why? Because it’s been quite some time, John. I haven’t heard from you since the Iosef situation, but I did hear you’re back in business,” Marcus replies, but when he sees how distracted John looks, his voice falters. “You working?”

“Yeah.” The lie comes off smoothly. “I’ll see you around.”

John taps Marcus’ shoulder, trying to sound as polite as possible even though he badly wants to break a couple of his teeth for taking his attention away from her. He knows Marcus is probably noticing something, but John’s never the one to care.

Marcus drops the subject. “Alright, John. I’ll see you around.”

With that, John disappears in the crowd with no looking back.

It’s been awhile since John last took a job.

He can’t seem to take his eyes away from his little one. He can’t stop fucking stalking her from morning to night time.

John’s afraid that once he takes his attention from her even for a second, something bad might happen to her. It’s engraved in his mind that she can’t protect herself and he’s solely there to be the protector.

No one would understand. He’s doing this for her own good.

John’s absence at the Continental doesn’t go unnoticed by Winston and Charon. They’re his favorite, after all. Watch his every move carefully ever since that ugly murder John did. Perhaps he could make his next kill even uglier. To them, it’s vile and grotesque. For John, it’s special and unique.

This time, it took a good self-beating before John decided to take a contract. Three million to hunt down a rival crime lord, nothing he can’t handle, but somehow it brings an unusual feeling on his shoulder he isn’t fond of. Perhaps because John’s leaving his little one for a while and he isn’t quite sure what to feel. Worried and pissed – but mostly worried.

That is why he hired someone to trail his little one on his behalf. Everyone in business would do anything for a coin despite how fucked up disturbing it is. John offered a generous amount of coins to keep the assassin’s mouth shut, but he also held him at gunpoint and gave him a good talk before he sent the dog out in the field.

His only job is to keep an eye on her, report everything he’ll see to John, and maybe even take pictures for safety purposes.

John has been overseas in the last three days, and everything that’s been sent to him has been his only form of entertainment. There’s videos of her giggling with her friends, videos and photos of her in the library, outside her school, her work, and even in her apartment. There’s also information sent to him about the background of her friends – every single one of them, because John didn’t pay so much for nothing.

There’s one particular friend that ticks off John in all the worst way possible. He’s young, around her age, and the way he hugs and touches her just fucking sets him off. John wants to break his fingers in half. He reminds himself that once he’s home, he’ll make sure to take care of that boy himself.

“What else have you got?” John questions through the phone, and it doesn’t take long for his precious dog to respond.

“Oh, he is one creepy motherfucker. I’m starting to understand why you’re so riled up with this guy, boss. The urge to strangle him every time he gets in the picture gets stronger and stronger everyday.” He hears a laugh at the other end. The guy that’s working for him – Alex, if he remembers correctly – is young, new in business, knows not to fuck with John so he keeps his job adequate. If Alex ever notice how fucked up John is for making him follow a young woman to keep his life in order, he doesn’t say anything about it. “Just tell me when I can shoot this guy and I’ll do it in a heartbeat.”

“Leave him. Keep an eye on him, but don’t kill him,” John advises, his tone leaving no room for discussion. “I’ll handle him myself when I get back. For the meantime, focus on Y/N and keep any troubles out of her way. Fail that task and I’d serve your head hot on a platter.”

“You got it, boss.”

John is playing nicely.

He’s not going to force his way into her life. He’s gonna be welcomed, with open arms, desired.

There are times he’d thought about giving in to his desperation and act with his dick instead of his head. There are times he’d thought about following her to a dark street, where no one’s around, he’s on the prowl and ready to pounce. He’d put a fabric against her mouth and nose, laced with enough chemicals to make her pass out and for him to carry her in his car with no problems whatsoever. John thinks about how he’d make it look like he’s just picking up his very drunk and passed out girlfriend and no one would know a goddamn thing.

John would keep her in his house where she won’t need anything but him. 

But of course, he’s not that cruel.

They’re only thoughts. Thoughts that he tries hard to keep away, but at the end of the day he reminds himself that he’s better than that.

John is not going to force his way into her life.

He’ll make sure to get her addicted enough to come crawling at his feet herself. She’ll be dependent on him, won’t be able to live without him. John will make sure his plan will go out smoothly or otherwise he’ll be the one bringing Hell with him on this land and seek as much havoc as he possibly can.

The death emissary himself will strike tonight.

A Friday night out with her friends has John on high alert. That’ll only mean she’s constantly surrounded with people, god knows what could happen if John even takes his eyes off her for a second. He lurks on the side, blending himself with the crowd as much as he can all while keeping his gaze on her. 

He doesn’t need any drugs to keep his mind insane, because the sight of a specific man getting very close to what’s his is enough to make him visualize all the ugly and twisted ways to kill a man.

She’s wearing a thin silky dress that’s low on her cleavage and shows her perky breasts. She’s currently the flame in a room full of moths, John included. Everyone’s eyes are on her, observing the way she sways her hips and sings along to the loud music – John’s fingers itch.

The itch to kill is back again, driving into his veins, his hands twitch on the table. John wants to pull out his gun and shoot everyone in this fucking room. He wants to stab them in the eyes one by one and make them feed it to themselves. He wants to grab this guy on the neck and slam his head against the wall repeatedly until his brain scatter all over the fucking place and there’s nothing left for him to ruin.

This guy is getting on his fucking nerves.

John watches as the man smoothly brings his arm on her shoulder, whispering something in her ear that doesn’t make her look so impressed. In fact, she looks disturbed, uncomfortable, tense. Despite the guy being her friend, John could tell she doesn’t feel comfortable with the way he’s showing her affection.

It’s hard to see her like this, but he knows he can’t just jump in between the two of them and beat the shit out of the guy until he chokes on his own blood. He’ll have to wait, maybe after this party, he’ll strike and discard the body in a way that’ll make even Winston spook in his sleep. It’s not a major offense to kill a man that’s not in the game anyway – or at least that’s what John tells himself.

This guy wouldn’t be able to be three feet near his little one once John’s done with him. He’ll be six feet under.

John sees her swiftly moving away from his touch, trying to make her rejection look as polite as possible, which receives a not-so-amused reaction from her little friend.

This guy doesn’t deserve her at all. No one does. Except maybe John, but that’s because he knows he’s capable of actually taking care of her and keeping her safe. Nobody would understand what he feels, what he yearns, what he wants.

Good girl, John thinks. Walk away.

His gaze follow her as she makes her way to the backdoor and out to the cold air of the city. John follows in a hurry, keeping a safe distance between the two of them, then opens the door as quietly as possible so he wouldn’t let his presence known.

There are a few people on the street, either having a smoke break or making out against the piss stained wall, but she stays just beside the busy road as she wraps her arms around herself.

His gaze burn daggers on her exposed back, the urge to cover her up with his jacket and take her home. A drunk man comes stumbling out of the club, accidentally tripping over his steps and he pushes her hard enough to make her yelp as her heels lose balance and almost making herself get run over by a passing truck.

Almost.

Everything happens so fast. One moment John is standing five feet from her, the next is he’s grasping her wrists in his hand and pulling her back to her feet and dragging her back to the curb. He was already on the act once he saw the man exiting the club, he knew exactly this would happen.

The scene looks strangely familiar, one John could never forget. The same position, same hand placement, same rough fingers around her wrist and dark eyes boring into hers – their very first meeting.

“You!” she gasps, not caring about the fact that she almost just got hit by a fucking truck. “I know you! You’re the guy outside my apartment that day! What are you doing here?”

John stares. Predictable. Of course she’s talking to him like they’ve known each other for years. She’s too friendly.

“Hello to you too,” John replies, though his tone is blank as well as his face. “You remember me.”

“‘Course I do,” she giggles, a little tipsy, pupils dilated and licking her lips nervously. “You’re pretty hard to forget. I remember asking my neighbors around the area if you’re new there, turns out you were just visiting.”

John furrows his brows, hand still not letting go of her wrist. What does she mean by she’s asked around the area about him?

His face must’ve looked confused, he sees her grinning childishly. “It’s a coincidence that I see you again!”

Not a coincidence, but fate.

John doesn’t believe in a lot of things, but he believes in fate. Fate brought him Helen, and now fate is bringing him another angel. If she really went as far as asking the neighborhood about his existence, then it must be fate.

“I’m Y/N. I figured if we keep bumping into each other then you should at least know my name,” she says, completely oblivious that John already knows everything that has to be known about her. From her little mannerisms to the last name of her fucking grandmother. “May I know yours or are you just gonna stare at me all night?”

“It’s John,” he gulps, not wanting to look like a loser in front of her, not after everything he went through for her. “It’s really nice to see you again.”

He sucks at this. He fucking sucks at this.

“You haven’t answered my question, by the way. What brings you here?”

It hangs in the air, John lets go of her wrist. Luckily, he thinks fast enough and says the first thing that comes to his mind. “Work.”

“Ah, work,” she nods. “You work here? In the club? What are you, a bouncer or something?”

“I don’t. Someone I work with is in the club.” A lie, but it’s not like she would know. “We had a talk.”

“Not really a man of words, eh?” she raises an eyebrow teasingly. 

“This is the most words I’ve said in the past few days,” John says. “I’d say you’re special.”

The look on her face is enough to make his entire night even better. Blushing, lips opening and closing, not knowing what to say. John wants to graze his thumb on her lips, thinking about how good it would feel stretching over his cock.

He blinks. Where did that come from?

“For someone who doesn’t talk much, you sure make it sound smooth when you do. Are you always this slick, John?” she giggles again, music to his ear. “That’s actually better than what I heard from my friend earlier, so thank you.”

“That’s good to know.”

Before she could say anything back, the door of the club opens once again and her friends appear, waving a hand at her and beckoning her to get inside. She looks at John, gives him a sympathetic look, as if apologizing that their talk gets cut off too soon.

“I’m really sorry but my friends want me back in there. Hopefully we can continue this again, yeah?” she smiles cheekily, tucking her hair behind her ear. “If you want, you could give me your number so we can talk someplace else? You know… with no one bothering us and all that.”

There it is. John didn’t think it would be this easy to sink the hook in. All he needs to do is pull and take what’s meant to be his.

“Sure.” He enters his number swiftly, feeling that familiar burn in his guts once again when he sees the wallpaper being her pretty face. “Feel free to message me whenever you want. I’ll make time for you.”

She looks at her phone and smiles before starting to walk away from him, waving a hand goodbye, but it doesn’t feel like a goodbye. John knows it isn’t. She’s already his the moment she started talking to him again.

“Of course! Get home safe, John! I’ll see you soon!” 

“You too.”

She doesn’t know John won’t be heading home any time soon until he knows she’s safe and sound in her apartment.

Jay Lopez.

The name burns on his tongue. Bitter and resentful. He stares at the photos his precious dog sent to him and he has to stop the impulse to burn every single one of them.

Jay Lopez is the guy that’s been leeching on his girl since the dawn of time, and thankfully John is here to put an end to it. 

He’s hideous. It’s interesting how John stooped this low that he’d be willing to kill a college student for being too near his little bambi, but alas, he’s never the one to care for such things. Morals and righteousness have never been in his book, not now, nor ever.

It’s only a matter of time until he gets rid of this pest. He’s fucking creepy, follows around not only Y/N but a bunch of other women. 

John doesn’t want his death to be quick and simple. He wants to do it in an ugly way, make sure his body will never be found, make sure he’ll never get to lay his hands and eyes on what’s his. The way Jay stares at her in these pictures ignites something evil within John’s veins. It’s been awhile since he felt something like this.

“Alex.” he looks at his pet standing by the door, waiting for the next command. “Bring him to me alive.”

“Can I at least rough him up a bit?”

John doesn’t answer at first, looks back at the photos on his table. “Do what you want, just make sure he’s still breathing when you bring him here.”

“On it, boss.”

Truth be told, John doesn’t need a pet to order around for this job. He has himself – a labeled attack dog of the Tarasovs for years, their hellhound, chained and muzzled unless they need him to kill. He’s a one man army as some would say, he doesn’t need Alex running around doing tasks for him, but it sure does make the job a lot faster.

It’s not a way to downgrade his reputation nor skills to hunt, he really just needs this Jay guy gone as fast as possible.

On the same day, Alex manages to haul a very brutally violated Jay to the floor of his basement. He stinks, pants wet from piss and a face John is having a hard time recognizing.

“You said rough him up a bit, not make him look unrecognizable.”

“Same thing.”

Jay is sobbing his eyes out, his cries of pleas falls to deaf ears and John just wants to fucking bash his skull with his own foot. “W-who are you guys?! What the f-fuck did I do?! Get me out of here or I’ll tell the fucking police–”

John kicks him on the chin hard to stop the goon from rambling. “You’re not telling anybody any shit, tough guy.”

“So, what are you planning to do to him? Can I watch?”

“Can you handle it?”

Alex shrugs. He’s in the presence of the most dangerous assassin in the underworld, wouldn’t hurt to learn anything from his skills and techniques, doesn’t matter how fucked up it is.

John nods towards the chainsaw sitting at the corner of the room, and Alex turns to face him with wide eyes. “Jesus Christ, man. You serious? Last time I heard you’re a hitman, not a serial killer.”

“Same qualifications. Same thing.” John grabs the man by the arm then drags him to a chair. He takes a rope from the table and swiftly ties him up securely. “We start with the head, then arms and legs. It would be hard to put his entire body in a drum full of acid, so we need to cut him off one by one.”

Alex looks like he’s about to run off somewhere safe from what he’s witnessing. “You’re talking like you’ve done this before, holy fuck.”

John gives him a look, and Alex immediately shuts his mouth. Right. He’d done this before. This is completely normal.

“I’ve been following you for a while, Jay. You’re a creep who befriends pretty girls, then you’ll drug them and make them have sex with you,” John taunts, the sound of his heels hitting the concrete floor is enough to send shivers down his spine. “Is that what you’re also planning to do with Y/N? Be her friend and fuck her once she’s drugged up and vulnerable?”

It’s a bold statement coming from John himself since he’s no better man than Jay, but at least his intentions come from a different place.

“You-you’re fucking sick!” Jay spits.

“I’m sick? I’m not the one going around making girls uncomfortable now, am I?” he picks up the chainsaw, then watches in enjoyment as Jay widens his eyes in fear. “We’re going to have a lot of fun, Jay. You won’t be able to use your pathetic little dick of yours to any woman ever again, and most importantly –”

John fires up the chainsaw, adrenaline coursing through his veins when he sees the horrified look in the man’s face as he tries to get up and scream for help.

“I can finally sleep well at night knowing you’re not in Y/N’s life anymore.”

As John steps into the light, a roaring chainsaw in his hands, Alex could only watch in horror as the basement gets painted with blood in mere seconds.

There’s a vacant apartment just across her room, giving John the perfect view of what she’s doing while she’s alone.

Most of the time, John will pull up a seat beside the window and take pictures. The other half of the time is just him staring, observing. It seems that she’s too comfortable knowing there’s no one across the building so she doesn’t close the curtains, leaving John no choice but to keep his eyes on her.

He found this place just three days after following her. He couldn’t help it. Following her to school and work suddenly wasn’t enough for John that he had to find a way to somehow watch her even in her sleep. 

He should be ashamed of himself. He should feel guilty for what he’s doing – he should stop, but he just can’t. John’s already done too much. This is like being pulled back into the underworld all over again but this time, there’s something good that’s waiting for him on the other side.

Maybe it’s the delusion that comes with it that’s not stopping John from whatever he’s doing. Lately, he’s been thinking about how life would turn out to be if his plan goes out smoothly. They’d live happily ever after, she would end up loving him just the way he planned it out to be, and John will make sure no one will ever dare to take those peace away from him again.

He’d make sure no one will ever come close to her again once she’s his. She’d be isolated but protected. Just how John likes it.

It’s been two days since John gave his number, but he knows she’s just giddy and nervous to text him. He’d seen her staring at her phone, biting her bottom lip anxiously, thinking if it would be a good idea or not. He knows she’ll give in one way or another because he sees it in her face. She’s too easy, too gullible, too naive.

She’s lonely, just like him.

John could tell she’s waiting for someone – she’s desperate, no wonder she asked for his number the second time they met. She wants someone to take care of her, to hold her, tell her that she deserves the world. That someone is John whether she likes it or not.

This isn’t just any unhealthy obsession. John finds himself too deep to get out. He knows her little mannerisms, studied her every action, has a red room full of her pictures and no one can’t say he’s not ready to give up anything for her. John has already given up his sanity ever since he mutilated a man for being too close to her.

She’s his life now, his everything.

John watches intensely as she shreds her clothes in her room, baring him the full view of herself naked, and John grips the side of his chair too hard his knuckles turn white. This is the first time he’d seen her naked, it’s so sudden and so… perfect.

His cock fattens in his pants as he observes every curve of her body. Her waist is fucking perfect and her body is thick yet delicate. John thinks about bruising her sensitive skin, leaving a mark that will show everyone that she’s owned. He would love to see her in a collar, hear it jingle when she crawls. 

She’s completely fucking naked that John wonder just how naive she is to think there would be no one seeing her like this. What if John isn’t the only one watching her? What if somebody else sees her like this? His fingers itch, jaw clenching.

He’d kill them. He’d kill them in front of her, and the thought somehow made his cock hard even more. He grimaces, disturbed at the reaction of his body.

John doesn’t really understand the sexual aspects of killing, but now he’s thinking about how she would react if she sees him working. He’d kill someone in front of her and he’d see the look of disgust and betrayal in her face. He can already imagine how her eyes would well up with tears and fuck, his dick shouldn’t be this hard.

She’d fear him, and John would be turned on. How fucked up would that be? Just how fucked up can his mind get?

He resists the urge to wrap his hand around his cock because fuck no. He would not stoop this low, he is not a teenage boy. No matter how strong the thoughts get, the thoughts of wrapping his own hand around her neck, squeezing it hard and cutting off her airflow as John forces his cock in her cunt, hearing her mewl and scream and beg to just –

John sucks in air, eyes back on her in her room, wrapping a robe around herself and heading to the bathroom. This is fucked up. His cock is incredibly hard and leaking, and his mind won’t stop thinking about how good her pussy would feel around him.

He’d talk her through it. Whisper sweet nothings in her ear as she releases around her cock, praising her for being such a good girl. Then he’d fuck her again, in a different position, debauching her in different ways not even the devil himself could think of.

John would ruin her, and she will have no choice but to accept it.

He brings his hand to his face as he sighs deeply. He wonders what Helen would feel of what he’s doing. Disgusted, no doubt. This is not the same man she fell in love with years ago. He would never do something like this, but fate has its plans, and John believes everything happens for a reason.

She was brought into his life for a reason and it’s up to him whether he takes.

John doesn’t realize that he’s been staring at nothing for too long until she comes back in his view once again. Her hair is still wet, still wrapped up in a fluffy pink robe, and John’s fingers itch to grab, squeeze, possess.

He sees her picking up her phone, staring for a moment before her fingers start typing. John has been anticipating this moment for so long, the time has finally come.

In his chest pocket, his phone buzz silently, the vibration sending excitement in his whole body.

There it is.

13.06.15 11:46 PM UNKNOWN NUMBER : hello! this is Y/N from the club the other night

13.06.15 11:46 PM UNKNOWN NUMBER : also that Y/N who returned your super expensive looking coin hehe ;) i hope you didn’t forget about me!

There it fucking is.

John’s lips curl into a small smile. His efforts are finally paying off. 

All he needs to do is to get what’s his.

[intimidating-fettuccine]

Fettuccine’s Guide to Your Ghostly Gamer Boyfriend

BEN can be quite the catch with how sweet and cute he is, especially considering once he’s dating you he’d do anything he can to keep that pretty smile on your face and joy blooming inside of you. Of course, he’s not hard to date, but there are some tips that come with dating him, so here are some things to keep in mind. 

1. Always check your surroundings, especially if he calls out for you. When you’re a ghost, who needs stairs? Always remember to check both ceilings, walls, and floors when you’re walking about, because you never know just where you might see his head peeking out from. 

2. Remember to carry snacks on you. Even the dead like to snack around, so when you find yourself visiting BEN, make sure to have some candy or nice of his favorite snacks on you. Gifting him with snacks always means he’s going to return the favor and gift you snacks too, and it also means you’re gonna have him cuddling up to you, covering you in happy kisses to thank you for doing so. Recommended choices are Doritos (specifically Cool Ranch or Spicy Sweet Chili), Goldfish (he prefers the original Cheddar flavor), Cheez-Its (White Cheddar), Rice Krispies, Fruit Roll-Ups/By the Foot, or just about any candy you can get your hands on. Peanut butter candy scores you bonus points though. Obtaining any of these snacks for him makes him feel extra happy and loved and has him turning into a puddle in your arms.

3. This next one might seem obvious, but be interested in video games. You don’t have to be good at them or play a bunch of them yourself, but having an interest in them in general is essential. He loves playing with you, and he’s happy to teach you some tricks and play at your pace, but he also likes showing off for you. Watch him play a single player he’s really good at and cheer him on and you’ll have him feeling just about as happy as he gets. It makes him feel super loved and appreciated to have you so excited over his interests, and he always returns the favor for partaking in your interests as well. 

4. Send him silly photos of yourself. I’m sure we’ve all had a moment where someone takes a particularly bad photo of us and our knee-jerk reaction is to ask them to delete it, but you should do the opposite with BEN. He loves photography and he loves taking extremely flattering pictures of you and saving them to look at later, but he tries to avoid getting silly ones of you because he doesn’t know if it’ll upset you and quite frankly he’s too anxious to ask. Set him at ease by sending him an especially silly photo of yourself every now and then. It’ll really, really make him giddy and excited, and he’ll always send you an equally goofy photo of himself back so you’re even. Those photos you send him always end up becoming his favorite because you’re being unapologetically yourself in them. 

5. Let him ramble to you. BEN feels anxious with dominating conversations, but there are times when he really wants to rant and rave about things to you. Allowing him to do so and actually listening to him (even occasionally asking questions or making remarks in response) decreases his general anxiety about it and makes him feel much, much more comfortable with you. It allows him to get out his rambles, and it lets him share his interests with you, so it’s a winning situation.

6. Sacrifice your sleep or help reel him in. BEN, as a ghost, does not need to sleep. You, as a human, do need to. He gets so used to never sleeping that sometimes he forgets that you can’t stay up extremely late every single night and that you need to be in bed before the sun comes up. When it gets close to the time you’d actually like to go to bed, start settling down in bed and offering him some cuddles. Cuddles always relax him and put him at peace, so snuggling the fuck out of him is one way to prevent him from getting late-night zoomies and keeping you awake all night. He’ll adapt pretty easily if you keep at it. 

7. Speaking of cuddles, if you’re gonna date BEN you’ve gotta be okay with being super affectionate. This gamer is extremely touch-starved and at most points in the day wants nothing more than to be wrapped up in your arms receiving all your attention. Give him hugs and kisses whenever you see him, even if it’s in passing through the hallway, and make sure to cuddle up with him when you’re both alone. Sit in his lap or let him sit in yours, lay down together, sit side by side with an arm thrown over your shoulders. He’s basically just a needy puppy when it comes down to it and he thrives on your touch.

8. Have a sense of humor and appreciate his memes. BEN shows affection by sending you a bunch of funny memes, TikToks, and YouTube videos he thinks you’ll find really funny. You don’t have to like all of them, but take the time to look at them and send some back to him. He tries to curate it over time so he sends only stuff you’ll enjoy, so if you don’t like a particular variety be sure to tell him. He enjoys the back and forth of sharing things with you so much. 

9. Be prepared to accept the fact that you’ll probably be the chef in your relationship. BEN… Well, to say the least, is not allowed in the kitchen. There are very few things he can actually make, and although he tries his best, he really is not that great at cooking things and if it were up to him he could survive off of cereal. You don’t have to be a five star chef, but it would probably be good for both of you if you could make something other than hot pockets. 

10. The final, and one of the most important, of tips is to… Be yourself. BEN spends a lot of his time with a mask on presenting a facade because he’s too anxious to really open up to people and expose the inner, depressive, and traumatized sides of himself. Having a partner who can be 100% open and honest with him will go a long way in helping him do the same for you. After all, he loves you for who you are, and he doesn’t want you to feel the need to hide things about yourself. If you can be so open and honest with him, he can do the same for you. 

Disclaimer;

BEN would like it to be said that he had no part in making this guide and that the thoughts, opinions, and claims expressed are my own (even if they’re true). He would also like to express that you also have to be comfortable sleeping in his room with his mountains of blankets, so if you cannot handle that, he recommends investing in a high powered fan. He’ll help you purchase it. He’s now also demanding a minimum of thirty minutes of cuddling per day, non-negotiable. That is all.

(That last part is just me trying to be silly please remember that BEN does not exist, is not real, never has been, and never will be. He is a fictional entity.) 

[thatone-brightstar]

The Bear & The Fox (Carmy Berzatto x Fem!Reader)

Chapter 11: Collateral Damage

Words: 5.8k

Summary: It's been a month since your breakup with Carmy and Syd wouldn't ask for your help unless they were absolutely slammed.

a/n: 1 more chapter + epilogue to go and I don't know what to do with myselffff!!!!

Thank you for sticking around thus far and commenting is always appreciated!

Heartbreak is a funny little thing. You can walk a delicate line all your life to avoid feeling it, but one way or another it’ll find you. It’s the eternal debate: To avoid all and spare yourself from hurt, but live a life of emptiness and quiet; or to welcome the pain like an old friend, at peace and knowing you never stopped trying. Everyone chooses a side at some point, but you’re never really spared from it. 

You’ve always hated the part of you that feels too deeply. The one that created stories out of strangers, wonder struck by microseconds of eye contact, then shattered when they step off the train. The one that no matter how many times was dolefully blown into the ground, it still believes in good grace and  happy endings.

“So yeah… That’s basically it since the last time I saw you.” You say, twirling the small ring with the aquamarine stone that you had stopped wearing long ago. You look up to the woman sitting across from you and ask “What? You asked me how I was.”

“And I wasn’t expecting a two hour monologue.”

“Well what did you expect? Haven’t seen you in months, I needed to vent…” You fight back.

You can hear the soft scribbles of her pen for a couple minutes and you make yourself comfortable against the soft pillows that fill up most of her couch.

“So, how long has it been?” She speaks again.

“Bout a month…” You sigh.

“And have either of you tried reaching out?”

“No, I-” You take a breath and ponder over the question, the single unanswered text weighing heavy on your phone. “I wouldn’t know what to say. Besides, I’ve been too busy with my paintings and helping out with the auction. I don’t really have time for… anything else. I-I guess he’s been busy too.” 

“But you still know what he’s up to?” She asks with raised brows.

You shrug with a single shoulder and chew at your thumbnail with slight nerves. “Syd talks about work sometimes, when we go out. But I think she kinda feels guilty for bringing him up. I told her it’s fine.” The woman looks at you skeptically through the small circular glasses. “I’m fine.” You half lie. “I am, it's just… The auction is this weekend and they’re catering so… I don’t really know how I’m supposed to feel…”

“Because you’ll see him again?”

“...Yeah.”

The woman calls your name again and you rip your eyes from the ring on your finger, heavy inside your own head to hear her question.

“So, is your set finished?” She asks to change the conversation.

“Mhm. It only took me a couple weeks to finish but -” Your smile curls slowly at the edge of your lips. “I'm really proud of them.”

“That’s great to hear.” She whispers with a genuine smile. “You know, heartbreak can also be a beautiful thing. It’s painful, yes, but it also gives a vulnerability we don’t regularly allow ourselves. It lets us create wonderful things. It’s all part of the human experience. It truly is nice to know you’re doing better, even after going MIA for months.” She says with a practiced tone mothers use to scold you.

She schedules you in for the next month and you promise to not bail this time, then walking out the office with your bag over your shoulder and a lightweight heart. The prospect of seeing him at the auction is still heavy on your mind as you make your way to the train station and the simple thought fills your chest like a crisp breath of air. ‘He could just send Syd’ you think and you try to not engage too much with the idea in fear that it may sour your good mood.  Instead you focus on your steady steps and people watching, ‘whatever happens, happens.’ you mumble under your breath.

**********

Syd’s call had pulled you from the comfort of your home before the sun was even visible over the horizon. Her worried tone had you waking up instantly and darting frantically around your darkened room in search of anything that could shield you from the increasing cold, then out the door and in the dreaded direction of The Beef. 

It’s been a month since you last spoke with Carmy and even though in the grand scheme of time, it’s only a mere speck of dust, to you it had felt eternal. Small snippets blur together into one long strenuous day, piggy-backing off your grief and pushing your shoulders deeper into the ground. You had called him a few days after in hopes that you could talk things over, but it went straight to voicemail. So you left a text that you anxiously waited an answer for the following days. All of a sudden, one week turned into two, then three and before you knew it, a month had gone by without a response. You kept busy picking up most of the planning to avoid any crossing thought of him, only allowing yourself to break with your canvas in front and acrylics to spear. 

You had done enough to convince yourself you were fine, that even if he were to show up tomorrow and not send Syd on his behalf, you'd be fine. 

Fine. Fine. Fucking fine. 

Everything was fucking fine until this morning when Syd had called to ask for help at the restaurant. Richie had been arrested, the place was a mess and they were behind on prep for the event tomorrow because they were lacking hands. Protesting would only lose you time that they did not have, so in place of that you settle to ignore the treacherous wormhole vacuuming out the few remains of confidence you had saved for tomorrow as you wait for the train that’ll leave you on River North Station.

Twenty three minutes later, you're walking at a brisk pace through the streets with a thick knot for a stomach and a growing unease. You push through the door and stop in your tracks at the shock and disarray of the place.

“What the fuck? Ugh-” 

The potent smell of alcohol is the first thing that invades your nose, along with the stickiness of the floor the deeper you walk into the room. There’s solo cups scattered everywhere and half working Christmas lights hanging loosely over the walls. Some frames from the front wall lay broken, spewing shards of glass all around the tiles.

“Mi amor, qué sorpresa!” You hear Tina’s voice from behind the counter and you slowly walk towards her, the small pieces shattering under the weight of your boots.

She hugs you tight and kisses your cheek. “Tina, what the hell happened in here?! It smells like the fuckin’ Hangover…”

“Ay baby, don’t even get me started with these knuckleheads-”

You take another woeful look around, then follow her inside as she recounts the little information Sydney gave them from the frantic phone call she had with Carmen. How they rented out The Beef for a bachelor’s and Richie had knocked out some drunk while defending Carmen’s ass. It’s strange to you, the pair’s relationship. How they were always ready to rip each other to pieces, but would jump to save the other without a second thought. They said they couldn’t stand one another, but you’re sure they’re something either can’t live without.

“So what, he’s in for aggravated assault?” You ask.

“Only if the guy wakes up.” Marcus answers with a broom in hand, sweeping away remnants of glitter and tinsel.

“And if he doesn’t?”

“Could be 5 to 25 for accidental manslaughter…” Sweeps chimes in while carrying a full trash bag to the back.

Your throat closes up and behind your concern, you hear Marcus ask Sweeps how he knows so much about the matter. ‘Bro, I told you. I went to Harvard Law…’ ‘Oh yeah…’

You breathe in  deep while maintaining the possibility of his release still in your mind and you head to Syd’s side, pulling your hair up into a ponytail automatically. 

“Alright, brigade’s here. What d’you need?” You say after a quick hug hello.

“Guess you know more about it than I do…”

She’s flipping through the binder with all the recipes and images of the canapes they’d be serving, the one you helped Carmy assemble all those months back. Despite a few scribbles and notes at the foot of some recipes, it’s practically the same. You bend the corner lightly on the last page to find the miniature ‘C’ surrounded by purile hearts and your morning coffee grows knotty in your gut.

“Is he…” You try asking, but the sentence loses power half way through.

Syd seems to catch your drift. “No, no. He’s been down at the station since dawn.”

You nod absentmindedly with your eyes glued to the page. 

“Okay, um. Marcus left the sourdough for the tapas rising all night yesterday, so we have a good start on that-” Syd began and you pull all your attention to the task at hand. “Beef’s already bracing in the oven but it’ll take a couple more hours. You can start with the ginger- tangerine compote. That’ll go on the brie.” She says, handing you one of the blue aprons. 

“Alright, heard.” The words feel unnatural rolling off your tongue after being away from a kitchen for so long.

She leaves you in search of Fak, urging him to finish fixing the backed up sink in the Steward section. You drown out the bicker and hastily make your way into the walk-in, throwing the apron over your head and tying the back securely around your waist. It’s almost as if the familiar pressure unveils a dormant sensation and you soon find yourself navigating with ease through the skills you thought forgotten. The knife feels at home under your palm -heftier than a paint brush but still requires the same level of  concentration- as you separate the tangerine supremes and add them to the pot holding clarified butter, sugar and rosemary leaves. Everyone works in a rhythmic but comfortable silence, a stark difference from the frantic, unmeasured mess they seemed to thrive in when you still worked here. 

“Yo chef?” Marcus calls from your left. 

You lift your head to him while you finish peeling the ginger. “What's up?”

“Mind tasting this for me? It’s for the gig but somethin’ bout the filling don’t feel right…”

You nod and wipe your hands on your rag, then take a bite into the miniature stuffed doughnut that doesn’t seem bigger than an Oreo. The flavors are too thick to tell them apart but  the softness of the dough allows it to almost melt in your mouth. 

“The dough’s perfect-“ You say between bites, the compliment blooming over his face into a grin. “How bout a different filling though, there’s a lot going on and you can’t really enjoy the texture.”

“Right!? See, that’s what I was thinkin’. Got anything in mind?”

“Mmm, you could try a chai cream filling.”

“Just milk and cinnamon, then?”

“Yes and also no” You answer with a smile. “Try to steep some black tea in milk with cinnamon and ginger. Then instead of sugar, add honey to your crème and the chai milk. It should be a little bit more runny so when it cools it doesn’t get that jelly-like consistency from the egg.” You finish then turn back to peeling off the skin of the ginger with your spoon. 

Marcus is still standing beside you with a pleased smile. “You really know your stuff, huh? Thought you was burnt out.” and you lightly hit him over the arm with the back of your spoon. 

“Oh, I can totally smoke your ass baker boy..” You grin.

Before he can fight back, a sudden commotion by the entrance has you lifting your head above the second level of the table and searching for the noise. The slick handle of the spoon  almost slips past your hand when your eyes capture the image of two very sleep deprived Carmen and Richie walking through the staff door. You can see everyone showering them with attention, how Tina hugs Richie tight then smacks him hard over the head, but the loud ringing in your ears and the sudden rush of cold blood prevent you from moving any closer. Not that you’d want to anyway. You try to pull yourself together, wiping your clammy hands for the tenth time and watching them advance deeper into the room. Richie’s the first to spot you and true to his nature, he lets the whole room know that he’s seen you, with outstretched palms in your direction.

“Oh, shit! This a fuckin’ family reunion?!” His hand falls heavily over the crown of your head and you swat it away with a smack.

“How’s prison?” 

“Oh, y'know…free food, can’t complain.”

“D’you get yourself a bitch?” You tease.

“Yeah, brought ‘em home, actually-” He says pointing back to Carmy, causing the forming grin on your face to fall when you see he’s been watching you. You pull your eyes from him and back to your cutting board. “Oh right, my bad…”

You shake your head, mumbling a sharp ‘asshole’ through gritted teeth. Richie takes off to the back and you’re finally left at peace.

You fall into a pronounced balance of chopping and continuously stirring the compote, until it reaches the needed consistency and you pull it off the fire to cool. You check it off Syd’s thoroughly organized list and scroll down to find the next task, then make your way back into the walk-in. With a bowl resting on your hip, you pick out a few pears you’ll need, then hear the creak of the metal door open and you assume it’s Syd coming in to take a breather from the frenetic kitchen.

“Yo, I’m gonna start poaching the pears. You’re out of red wine but I can run to the corner store and try to flirt with the clerk to knock a few bucks off a bottle-”

The slick bowl almost slips from your grip when your eyes catch his. A chill slithers from your neck, down your spine and wraps around your knees, rendering them uselessly immobile as Carmy just stares you down through tired lids. The room grows uncomfortably smaller with the two of you locked inside and you're afraid that he can hear the irregular tempo in your quickening pulse. You wonder if the slight shock in his brows is due to not knowing you were in there. It only flashes for a second, then his features conceal behind a curtain of indifference, making your stand straighter.

“H-hey.” He says with a feign coolness as he wraps his own apron around his waist and moves deeper into the room, as if it’s the most natural thing to find you between the inventory of his restaurant.

You turn back to the shelf so he doesn’t notice the multiple quivery inhales it takes for your voice to sound somewhat even. “Syd asked me for help, that’s why I’m here I-”

“No- yeah, I get it- I wasn’t-” He cuts himself off and takes a breath that has your wavering stare slowly inching towards him. “Thank you…”

You finally turn to him, only holding his stare for a second, then give him a tight smile and wrap both arms securely around the bowl that wants to slip from your clammy palms. His lips part and you wait for anything else to leave his mouth, maybe a ‘How’ve you been?’ or a ‘Can we talk?’. But nothing does and you try to not let it sting as much as it normally does when you get your hopes up. You take a reluctant step towards the door, then another and another, only stopping when your name vibrates in the concealed room.

“Yeah…?” You turn with a full chest.

He holds an unopened bottle of wine in your direction, face blank. “Bottom left shelf.” He says, shrugging.

“Oh. Right.” You take it without meeting his stare so he doesn’t see the grief slapped across it and quickly push yourself out the space.

You spend the better part of half an hour peeling the thin skin off the pears and letting the simmering wine and spices fill the kitchen with a strong sweetness. Carmy’s presence looms around the room as he checks in with every station on their progress, but doesn’t stop with you. All you get is a soft ‘Behind’ and the tingling sensation of his touch on your lower back as he passes by. You don’t know if it’s on purpose or not, although it doesn't really matter to the breath that stops in your throat when he does it. ‘Just finish this and you can leave.’ you repeat to yourself. Though you know you won’t, at least not until they’re up to schedule, even if every second sharing the same space withers at your soul.

You do your best to focus on your task, only talking to Tina when she gently squeezes your forearm to ask if you're okay, because your brows are glued into that permanent scowl that only displays your irritation outward.

“Yeah I, um- just got a lot on my plate.” You tell her and try to not let it trigger the tears you’ve hoarded in the back of your throat.

“No te hará sentir mejor-” She whispers to your side. 

“-Probably not-”

“-pero él está igual de miserable que tú. Really baby, you should have a talk with him, y’know, straighten things out.”

“T, ni siquiera me ve a la cara…” You whisper back. “How am I supposed to straighten anything out if he won’t even look at me?”

“Ay, baby I know. But I’ve known that stubborn boy all his life and let me tell you, since he came back from Madison Square Park -or wherever the fuck-, he was all different and… bitchy. And it wasn’t ‘till you came along that he finally felt like the Carmy we all knew before… pues ya tu sabes.” She says in reference to his brother.

“You two are good for each other, but you’re both stubborn as hell… talk it out, okay? Don’t lose somethin’ good ‘cause you're stubborn.” Tina rubs your shoulder reassuringly then with a final smile. she turns yelling ‘Corner!’ and disappears behind the tall stands.

You swallow down the aching knot and distract yourself with the slippery fruit in your hands.

“Can I..?” You see his hands before hearing his voice, as he lightly places a white cutting board a few feet away from you. You eye the curves of discoloring letters above his knuckles, then force your stare back to your own working hands and shrug.

“Sure… your kitchen.”

He only nods, from your side view you see how his eyes linger on you for a few moments then fall back down. The air between you feels thick despite the music playing from the hoarse stereo and a light layer of conversation from the staff. There’s a heavy pressure over your chest that only seems to expand with every silent minute passing between you. 

Then Carmy clears his throat. “How’s-uhm- your set.. for the auction?” 

Confusion and irritation brew in synchronicity with your wine and you try to hide the annoyance his question brings you. He acts as if he’s just seen you the day before, as if things had ended with a friendly handshake and a mutual agreement, not with him breaking up with you and completely vanishing from your life.

“It’s fine.” You turn to the burners and stir the pot slowly to keep it from burning and also to avoid his heavy gaze.

You taste it to make sure the flavors are correct then turn back to finally finish peeling the last of your pears. Carmy stares at you like he wants to say something else, but just contemplates the seriousness of your features and the flow of your hands as you move the peeler in a frenzy. Each stroke grows closer to your skin and he just feels the need to warn you.

“Careful you’re gonna-”

“Mierda!” You hiss, dropping the handle immediately and cradling your palm under the injured one. “Hijo de puta!”

He’s by your side in a second, with his clean towel hovering under your hands and taking the fruit that you crushed involuntarily when the pain closed your fist. 

“It’s fine- I’m fine.” 

“No you’re not, you’re bleeding-”

“I said I’m fine!” You pry your hand hard enough to hear a slight pop from your wrist.

Carmy’s hands fall to his sides and you divert your gaze to the floor walking to the nearest sink to clean your wound. You hiss again when the warm water hits your palm and a gash at the bottom of it is finally visible. Fucking perfect. You scrub remnants of puree and blood off, until the water runs a light pink and you're relieved to see it won’t need stitches. A gauze and some tape will suffice, so you wrap it in some paper towels to avoid dripping and march to the small office where you find the kit. The quicker you move, the faster you’ll be out of the confined space that makes you feel like a vulnerable prey. But your fingers tremble from the light sting and the edge of the wrapper isn’t cooperating with your dull nails. Tiny droplets of blood pool in the center of your palm, the frustration grows too quickly and you slam the unopened gauze flat on the desk.

“Fuck!”

‘It’s fine, you’re fine.’ The voice in your head circles through the same phrase, pretending that the sudden proximity of him didn’t unearth something you have tried so hard to bury down for the last month. You thought you could be mature enough to ignore the crushing weight settling over you with every stare, but the wisps of frigid indifference that radiated off him wrapped a tightening noose around your neck and you weren’t sure how long you had until it finally killed you. 

A soft click pulls your attention from the crimson in your hand. Carmy stands with raised palms, inching slowly towards your intense glare, then reaches out a hand as if trying to help a wounded animal. Which in a way, you are and the joke forming in your mind about the bear helping a fox would be rather funny if you weren’t so immensely upset with him.

With a ragged sigh, you turn in the small space and stretch out your hand to him, eyes locking on a painting on the wall to evade his stare. You ignore the furor of goosebumps that invade your skin the second his touch is on you. Carmen’s hand holds you in the cocoon of his fist, thumb rubbing delicate circles beside the battered spot while he uses the paper towel to soak up all the blood. You reprimand your wayward beats for their reaction to his innocent touch and you have to constantly pull your wandering gaze from reaching the dangerous borders of his tightened jaw. His deep exhales fan the baby hairs resting at the bottom of your neck, his attention fixed on the small imperfection. His movements are slow, asking each muscle for permission to move the next, because having you this close after so long is a luxury he does not want to rush through, not if he’s never getting it again. 

Carmy understood your anger. He could feel it radiating off you in waves that bounced in the small space, but he also understood that he’s never had enough words to properly express the turmoil of everythingness swirling constantly inside his head. He wanted to let you know how hard it had been for him too. Confess the unhealthy amount of time he was spending at the restaurant- only going home to shower then leaving again- because he was afraid of the scent of your perfume and how it lingered on every breathable space in his home… apartment- not home- at least not since you had gone.

He focuses on swabbing the sanitizing wipe tenderly in hopes that his actions can transmit what he can’t say. The alcohol makes you hiss again and his eyes flicker to your frowned brows, mumbling a soft ‘sorry’.

He only lets go to tear open the gauze and some tape, then takes you in his grasp again to wrap your palm up safely. You expect him to let go once he’s done. To create as much needed space to fit the betrayal he portrayed the last time you saw him, this would only explain why he never called back. But he doesn’t. And he doesn’t look up at you either. Your stares meet on the flesh where his thumb still brushes over the blood-stained pit, your chest raises in slow puffs and the uninjured hand grips tightly over the edge hitting behind you. This is all too familiar again, right down to the brewing anxiety trickling heat into your overworked veins. You can't help but to foolishly crawl your pupils over the navy blue of his apron, past the strained tendons of his neck, the sharpness of his nose and to the beautiful blue you had missed so much.

Neither of you notice how the space has reduced to mere inches between you until his eyes flicker to yours and every single speck is bright and visible for your admiration. He swallows down hard, the Adam's apple bouncing in his throat portrays his nerves openly to you. The last reasonable, minute voice in his head tells him to pull away, but the way you’re staring up at him has his body tilting in your direction instead. Eyes wide and glossy dance around the freckles dusting his cheeks, causing his hand to float from your wrist to the dip of your waist and his forehead finally falls against yours.

You gasp in softly when his fingers dig into the center of your spine while his nose brushes along yours longingly. You can feel his sultry exhales ghost over the curve of your parted lips with doubt still present in his movements.

“Carmy…” The voice is above a whisper and you’re not sure you even have the strength to utter the sentence that’s formed in your head.

Your voice seems to trigger something in him. His jaw hardens, his fingers bunch up your shirt in a light fist and just as quickly, his grip on you loses strength and his hand falls to rest beside your fisted one. Then a grave sigh parts his chest and he takes a painful step back, unwilling to lift his eyes from the ground.

It takes a minute for you to react, then the butterflies in your stomach turn to wasps swarming in dangerous circles, unable to fly out due to the knot blocking your throat. He’s eerily silent, eyes glued to the floor to ignore your fiery glare.

“Sorry, I…” 

You scoff and shake your head, blinking rapidly to pull back the tears threatening to spill with your anger.

“Screw you, Carmen.” You untie the apron as quickly as you can with your injured hand and throw it at his desk before walking out of the small room.

With strong footsteps, you take your bag from above the lockers and escape out the back. The door slams hard as you push yourself out, Carmen following behind but by the time he calls your name you’re already a couple steps ahead.

“Fox!” He yells and you spin in his direction with nothing but anger over your face.

“Listen, I’m sor-”

“No-fuck you- you don’t get to talk, alright?! It’s my turn.” He takes a step back before crashing into you, jaw locked tight and regardless of the deafening ring in your ears, you refuse to bite your tongue again.

“Look Carmy, I am truly sorry that I didn’t tell you earlier and I’m so sorry that I’m here instead of your brother- but that does not mean you get a fuck-it-all free card and get to pull shit like that!” Tears of anger trickle down your heated skin and tickle the curve of your trembling lips.

“I called you Carmy…” The words burn as they force themselves to spill out. “I called you, and I texted you and I waited cause I knew you were pissed - and you have every fuckin’ right to be- but it doesn’t give you the right to kick me out of your life one second, then act as if everything’s fine the next, cause it’s not!”

The sounds of the city have grown mute between your heavy breaths and the erratic beating in your skull. You don’t expect him to answer and he doesn’t seem to have anything to say. He simply stands before you, eyes glossy and brows knitted as you bare all that you kept since the last time you saw him.

“I know you’re scared. And I know you’re angry and whatever this is-was-” You say pointing between you. “I know it didn’t come at a right time. But I meant what I said, Bear, I do love you. So fucking much. But that doesn’t mean it’s fair of you to take it out on me cause you’re angry at him… I refuse to be collateral damage for whatever the fuck you got going on.”

The weight over your chest might have shrunk, but it didn’t make you feel any less better than before, especially not with the way he’s looking at you. You want nothing more than to run to his side and kiss away the few stray drops that nest in the corner of his red rimmed eyes. You want to hug him tight until the loose pieces of his brokenness stick back together into one whole man, but the last of logic inside you knows that it would only serve as a temporary band-aid. So instead you offer a speck of a smile, just a soft curve that doesn’t reach your teary eyes.

“I love you, Carmy. So I dunno, give me a call when you sort it out- I know it’s more of a ‘when’ than an ‘if’ situation-… I think I’m stupid enough to answer.”

Carmen watches from his frozen position as you rub the tears away with the back of your hand, then the gravel crunches under your boots and in a few seconds you disappear around the corner. 

He has enough energy to slump over the crates by the wall and pull the crushed package of smokes from his back pocket. While the wisp of smoke swirls in the wind around him, he rubs his eyes until the image of your tear-soaked face blurs away behind the darkness. The gravel creeks again, heavy steps move from his left then settle with a groan beside him.

“I’m not in the mood, alright?” He says, eyes focused on the street at the end of the alley.

Richie doesn’t say anything, only takes out his own cigarette and joins his cousin in silence.

“Is there, um-” His voice is thick and wavering, barely holding on to controlled breaths. “Is there a name for… when you’re afraid of somethin’ good happening cause you think somethin’ bad’s gonna happen? ”

His thumb rubs anxiously over the same spot on his palm as he waits for Richie’s response.

“Fuck it, I dunno… life?” He takes a long drag, letting the exhale occupy the empty space in front of them. “That bad, huh?”

“Yeah…” Then the silence falls over them again.

When his cigarette burns out, Carmy reaches for another, but before he can settle the lighter back down, Richie pulls out a small envelope from the pocket of his jacket and hands it to him. Carmy’s reluctant to take it, his eyes flicker between his cousin and the piece of paper, then he slowly reaches out.

“What’s this?”

“It’s from your asshole brother… R.I.P and whatnot.” Is all he says.

His hand trembles again, his breath short circuits and a new wave of dread nips at the back of his neck. He swallows hard and breathes in deep, bracing himself, before turning it over. ‘This day just keeps getting better…’

Chapter 12.

Taglist: @pearlstiare @teteminne, @beebslebobs, @harrysmatcha, @yum-yahgurt, @pussy-f41ry, @kirakombat and that’s it lmao

[kitthepurplepotato]

~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~

Chapter 2. Meet the Menace!

~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~

New to the story? Start here! -> PART 1

About this chapter:

Genre: Comedy

Pairing: Platonic Kirishima x Reader (the main story is Bakugo x Reader!)

Warnings: Swear words, mentions of old injuries (not described)

Summary: Kirishima is an angel. His intentions were nothing but pure; to find his emotionally constipated bestie Katsuki a partner, but after meeting you on a job interview he decided that having someone entertain him and the team is more important than Bakugo’s well-being. Oh well, he really tried.

~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~

Everyone loves Kirishima-kun.

Kirishima-kun is an angel.

He’s always the first one to arrive to the office, and he makes sure there is freshly brewed coffee ready for his grumpy ass colleagues, fresh cow milk and almond milk for them to choose from, and on his shopping days he always buys snackies for the staff room for everyone to munch on, even though he gets told off every time by Mr. Katsuki for making the fellow heroes “fat”.

Sometimes, Katsuki brings random veggies in and hides them between the cookies to make himself feel better about the massive amount of sugar in the room.

Needless to say, no one ever eats those veggies, mostly because they think it’s probably poisoned.

While it might look like Kirishima is nothing more than a fellow colleague in this massive office, he actually owns half of the agency.

It’s really hard to have any kind of power when your partner is Dynamight himself.

Katsuki is… a special kind of breed. Kirishima knows he shouldn’t be too harsh on his best friend but sometimes he thinks he’s not even a human.

If he is, he needs to get laid as soon as possible.

Katsuki is so emotionally constipated, it’s painful to watch. So Kirishima has a plan.

A really amazing, but slightly unprofessional plan.

Oh well, if he goes down, he wants to go down with style.

When Hanako-Chan came into his office to talk, Kirishima knew shit will go loose.

Hanako-Chan is the only person who never goes to Kirishima, as she is more than happy to consult with the grumpy one when it’s needed; for her to come to him meant nothing but trouble.

And oh boy, Kirishima can already see Katsuki’s tear-flooded eyes staring at him from his couch, the empty wine bottles around him all over the floor, spilling on his white, fluffy carpet. Katsuki might be emotionally constipated, but after a few big gulps of red wine he becomes an emotional, uncontrollable mess.

With that said, Katsuki is banned from drinking wine in front of anyone else but Kirishima.

It’s just… bad for the business.

Kirishima takes a deep breath and gets to work on his amazing plan; getting Katsuki the most badass assistant the world has ever seen.

~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~

This is not what you wanted, but you will take what you get.

You are greeted by a lovely red haired man in his absolutely gorgeous hero costume, which is basically… well… his naked, toned upper body and some black trousers.

You might feel like it’s a tiny bit unprofessional, but who are you to tell your future boss what to do with his life?

You do you, Boo. - that’s your motto.

You sit down on the sofa in your fancy, super smart looking dress - you honestly can’t wait to go home and change into your favorite boots. You miss your comfy clothes and you really hope you’ll be able to wear whatever you want after you get hired.

Talking about getting hired…

“So let’s start this, shall we?” Says the red haired hero with a friendly smile on his cute face. You are not going to lie, while you understand why chicks (and dudes) love this guy so much, you are kinda sick of seeing his puppy face all over the place. He’s your best friend’s favorite, so there isn’t a single picture on the internet you haven’t seen.

He’s a nice chap though. You can always appreciate a man who doesn’t look at your cleavage, just because it’s visible. He is definitely a good bargain. You might need to do some meddling. You are kinda in a mood to go on a wedding anyway in a “I’m going to ruin your happiness because I’m lonely and sad” kinda way.

Hm, maybe ruining your best friend’s wedding isn’t the way to go though.

Wait, this is really not a good time to have this conversation with yourself. Red Riot is talking to you.

“So why did you choose our agency?”

No, saying “Number 1 Deku’s agency didn’t have a job available, neither did Number 3 Shouto who’s great to look at at least.” isn’t an answer.

Neither is “I’m bored”.

“My friend said a lot of nice things about this agency so I decided to give it a try.” You smile politely. It’s quite a vague answer but it’s still better than “my friend is obsessed with you so she made me apply.”

“Fair enough.” He smiles back at you. Even his eyes are smiling. He is definitely a cheesy romantic guy. Eww. “Your CV is amazing and I am really surprised to see you applying for the secretary job instead of being a side kick, or to be honest, you could just make your own agency with your experience. So what brings you here today, Y/N?”

Well. Time to rip that band-aid off. You don’t really like to talk about that terrible fight with a level S villain, but the truth is, you need to. You were known to be invincible as your quirk is basically being able to have any quirk you want for a certain amount of time and you can use multiple quirks at the same time if you really put your mind to it and concentrate. This is all nice and good but you are only a human and one mistake almost cost your life.

“I… I got seriously injured while trying to take down a group of villains back in my country.” You say, feeling so weak and pathetic already. “I’m not able to do hero work for at least a year as my body gets fed up after a few days of physical work, so I decided to move to Japan as it was always my dream to be here. My best friend is from Japan and I tend to visit her quite a lot anyway. She’s obsessed with the Japanese hero system, so obviously, I got curious about them too and what’s better that to work with them?”

You hope you sounded genuine, because to be honest… you were not.

Yes, you have all the respect for the heroes but you give zero F-cks about them. You hate how idolized these heroes are and while they are all good people to a certain degree; they save lives on a daily basis after all; being a hero and being a proper human being is two different things.

You are only here because you miss the adrenaline and you miss being able to help in one way or another. If you can’t do what you want to do, then do something for the people who can.

Goddamit, that sounds so dope, you should have said that in the first place!

You are so deep in your thoughts you don’t realize the frown on your face. Kirishima, the angel he is, clocks your uncomfortable mood right away.

Damn, you might not give this man to your bestie, he is a catch.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to make you feel uncomfortable.” Says the angel himself, remorse clearly written on his face.

“Oh, no, it’s absolutely not about that!” You say without hesitation. “I just made a really cool line in my head and I was furious I haven’t said it out loud.”

Jesus, you are such an idiot, it hurts.

“For the fuck’s sake, I didn’t mean to say that.”

Oh my god, please shut up.

“Oh fuck, sorry for swearing.”

This interview is definitely over.

“Aaaaaaand I just swore again. Great. I’m just…” You stand up from the sofa in the middle of your sentence. “I remember where the exit is, no need to escort me out. Thank you for your time and all that shit.”

For your absolute surprise, instead of the awkward silence you were expecting, loud laughter fills the room. The man is literally hyperventilating. Maybe you should call an ambulance, this man is having a seizure.

I mean, the situation is awkward enough to feel like you just want to die, so you can absolutely relate.

“Oh my god, you are absolutely hilarious.” Tears are falling from the man’s face, body scrunched up, he’s literally about loose his consciousness by the sound of his wheezing. “Is this your real self? Because if it is, you are hired. We will have so much fun having you around.” Says the crying redhead in front of you. This man has lost his marbles. “You two will be the funniest together, oh my god!”

His name shouldn’t be Red Riot.

RED FLAG suits him better. He is insane. You need to keep your bestie as far away as possible from this lunatic.

“Your sadistic thoughts are clearly written on your face Mister, behave yourself.” You giggle, shocking Mr. Kirishima with your pure honesty.

“Is it that obvious?” The readhead bites his lips to hide his cheeky smirk, unsuccessfully.

“If by obvious you mean it’s clear that you want your best friend to suffer miserably for your own entertainment, then yes, sir.”

“Well, first of all, it’s not just for MY entertainment. It’s for the team. And keep this a secret, will ya?” Your new boss winks at you with the biggest shit eating grin on his face.

“I’m more than happy to help. I’m a hero after all.” Comes your answer.

As you are about to leave with a new contract in your hand, your eyes find a big bowl of snackies on Kirishima’s desk. You don’t really understand the chocolate chip cookie x carrot sticks combo, but with a newly founded confidence you take a carrot out of the bowl and take a big bite out of it.

You have a fucking job. In Japan. Your boss is an absolute maniac, just like you.

This is definitely the best day of your life.

… Next Chapter

~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~

Taglist: @ibkg @chuugarettes @lilmaimai

[elliesfemfics]

Alone in the stables. pt.1

Single!Tommy Miller x Fem!reader

Tags; Porn w/ plot, unprotected piv, exhibitionism, blowjob, creampie, save a horse- ride a cowboy ;), sweet & vanilla

Note- I love Tommy sm and i always find it hard to find fics that don't make him morally questionable so here's some appreciation for him! <3

It's been a few months since you've arrived in Jackson, and it's been fun, to say the least. Before you had a place to call home, you'd been wandering all states of the USA, and the sightseeing was enough to keep you going. You generally kept your groups to a minimum, since more bodies meant more deaths in the apocalypse, but after sustaining an injury too great to deal with on your own, you followed the path to a growing town that an old friend told you about all those months ago. Immediately you were met with friendly faces and hot food- it helped that you had the connection but once they saw the almost fatal injury you got as a result of the current world, they nursed you back to health and got you trained to go on patrols.

It was nice going on runs to neighboring areas collecting supplies and killing anything that tried to make you dinner, but the best part of being in Jackson was the human connections you were finally allowed to make with other people. One person that you got awfully close with almost instantly, was a fellow named Tommy Miller. Thanks to him you were able to finally live life.

Tommy was the one you went on patrols with the most, which allowed you two to get close enough that you're now moved into his place. Today you woke up to a cold right side of the bed, even though today was the only day off you and Tommy shared. Where was he at this hour? You quickly got dressed in the clothes you wore the day prior and left to the place anyone will usually find your Tommy, in the stables.

As you walked through the town and greeted the very few people who were actually awake at this point, you breathed in the cool, fresh air of the early morning. Moments like these brought you back to reality and helped forget how the world is now. You finally got to the stables where one lantern was dimly lit in the corner of the room, where you could see the back of someone you knew so well.

"Good morning, hun." You put your hand on his broad shoulder and gave him a peck on the cheek.

"Oh- good morning, darling. I didn't hear you come in." He was currently tending to a horse that was recently injured in a patrol, and it oddly reminded you of the days when you were weak and brought back to life, no thanks to the man beside you. "Did i wake you?"

"No, i guess i just knew you were up." You kneeled next to him to see the horse a little better; your hand resting on Tom's knee. "How's she looking? Any better?"

"Yeah, i think so. She just needs some rest." He yawned.

Tommy got up and closed the gate to her stable, helping you up afterwards.

"Sounds like you need some more rest."

"I'm good, i just need something to wake me up. I was thinking about having some coffee." Tommy took your body into his arms in a strong embrace, and the heat of it almost made you fall asleep. But, the soft intimacy of this hug gave you a different idea of waking your boyfriend up, an idea full of love.

"I have another way of waking you up... If you let me." You laid your hands on his chest, leaning your body into his, only a few layers of clothing separating your tired bodies.

Tommy smiled, "Sounds fine by me."

He slowly moved his hand down from the small of your back to the fat of your ass, gripping it ever so slightly, igniting a fire in the pit of both of your stomachs. It's been a while since either of you had time to be intimate you see, and he's been waiting ever since. You slid your hand down his chest, to his stomach and down to the anxious bulge growing in his jeans. It made you giggle as you felt just how much your idea of waking up worked on him. You applied a teasing amount of pressure to his trapped but eager dick, and he let out a small groan in response.

"Is it working? Are you feeling awake?"

You chuckled at how much he shivered and gently bucked his desperate hips into the palm of your hand.

"Oh yeah. But i need more, i'm not wide awake yet." He took the hand he had left on your ass and used them to lean against a table that was behind him, giving you more control of his body; which you immediately took.

You unzipped the zipper on his jean, lifting them and the black boxers underneath down until his burning cock flung out from it's imprisonment.

"Ooh, eager today, are we?" You teased, gripping his cock and giving it a light squeeze; which earned you a sweet little gasp in return.

"Yeah, i've been too busy to.. ya know, have some me time. Really pent up, hah." Tommy tilted his head up, watching you work your hand up and down his swollen cock. Anyone could tell just from his face how much he was enjoying it.

After a minute or two of just subtle rubbing and kissing, you got onto your knees, eye level with the absolute weapon his dick was. With a glistening shine, it really did look a little tasty in the dim candle lit stables, so you wasted no time of licking and savoring it. Tommy groaned as you stuck it in your mouth, bobbing your head back and forth; tongue flat against the bottom of his shaft. The sheer size of it made you gag not even half way in, but you took it the furthest you possibly could. Once his cock hit the back of your throat, tommy gave up on trying to be quiet and let out any groan and moan he had been keeping in prior. He was oh so close, and he needed this. With as much gentleness he could manage in this situation, he took two handfuls of your hair, using it to pump his hips flush to your face; over and over.

"Sorry, sweetheart- i.. i'm close. Think.. think you can h-handle it?" You looked up and nodded slightly, relishing in the way his face contorted at each thrust. Who would've thought a man like him, someone who seemed so in control all the time, could have such a vulnerable side to him? It gave for a good show I'll tell you that.

His hips grew more and more shallow as each thrust went on, making it obvious how close he was. His groans grew louder, and with two shaky pumps of his cock; he came, hard. With all the strength he had, he pushed his cock as far as he could; his dick borderline down your throat. His knees nearly gave out as he unloaded a load that he's been holding back for days, coating your whole mouth in cum.

"Ha... God damn.. That was fucking amazing." He leaned back on the table behind him, and rubbed your cheek. "Are you okay, hun?"

"Y-yeah... i'm fine." You chuckled, swallowing the load. "My knee's aren't though, haha."

"Need me to carry you home..?" He took your hand and pulled you up, embracing you once again.

"No.. I'm not done, yet."

(This is getting long so i'm gonna make a pt.2!)

[deepspacedukat]

Begin Again - Part 9

“Begin Again” has been an absolute pleasure to write. Koss deserved more attention, and it was such an honor to be able to give it to him. This is the final chapter in this wild ride, and I hope this ties everything up nicely! Thank you to everyone who has taken the time to give this a read and who has left kind comments!! I appreciate every single one of you! 💖 Without further ado, I present the finale! ✨

Part 1 here. Part 2 here. Part 3 here. Part 4 here. Part 5 here. Part 6 here. Part 7 here. Part 8 here.

Cross-posted to AO3 here.

~*~

Koss (ST:ENT) x Reader

[A/N: There is smut in this final chapter, so 18+ ONLY, MINORS DNI!!!]

Warnings: Interspecies sex, Human/Vulcan sex, gentle sex, woman on top, cuddling, kissing, telepathy, public display of affection, Koss is protective, they’re so in love it’s ridiculous, Vulcan/Human marriage, also Kollos makes his debut!

~*~

Koss had been awake for many hours by the time his ashaya awoke with a sleepy little sound that made his heart clench. She was so beautiful...so gentle as she rested in his arms. Her drowsy thoughts floated slowly into his mind through their bond.

“Warm...comfortable...” Koss was inclined to agree with her as she nuzzled farther into his embrace. A groggy murmur of his name tumbled from her lips, prompting him to press a soft kiss onto her forehead.

“Good morning,” he whispered as she blinked slowly up at him. He had no doubt that the last several days had been a taxing blur for her, but she had endured it all admirably. Koss still needed to check her over for injuries, but he was quite certain she would have, at most, a few bruises and bite marks. His pon farr was in its final hours now, so his Hunger was significantly calmer than it had been. It would never be completely extinguished, though. Not when it came to her.

“G’morning,” she mumbled as her lips stretched into an affectionate smile. After a few slow, bleary blinks, his lover reached up and cupped his cheek. Koss nuzzled into her touch, eager to show her every ounce of devotion and gratitude that he felt for her, especially after all that she had tolerated for him. “Being like this with you is...”

Seemingly searching for the correct words, she let her voice fade, but they didn’t need words anymore. Reaching effortlessly into her mind to feel her thoughts, Koss sensed contentment, love, and...belonging? She felt at home with him? Emotions that he couldn’t quell in time stampeded through him. Pride, protectiveness, and the most ardent love he’d ever felt barreled across their bond before he could temper them, and his ashaya’s eyes widened.

Startled by his own lack of control, Koss began to pull back, but his mate was having none of that. Wrapping her arms around him, she buried her fingers in his hair and kissed him without restraint. He responded - of course he did - with a passion that equaled her own. Before he even realized he’d moved, she was on her back watching through half-closed eyelids as Koss nibbled and kissed his way down her body.

He lavished every mark he’d left on her with affection, hoping that she’d see how grateful he was for her and how fortunate he felt about being allowed to touch her like this.

“Nemaiyo na’ t’nash-veh ha’kiv,” he murmured in Vuhlkansu as he kissed down the soft skin of her abdomen. Thank you for my life. He tried to convey the meaning via their bond, and when she understood, his ashaya looked at him with tears gathering in her eyes. Her fingers skimmed through his hair, coaxing him to look up at her. His chin rested softly atop her mound as he reveled in her affection. 

“C’mere,” she breathed, and he obeyed instantly, crawling up the length of her body, laying soft, tender kisses on her as he went. Koss was about to ask what he could do to please her, but instead her lips covered his own in a kiss so filled with love that Koss whimpered into her mouth. He had been prepared to apologize for his roughness and to attempt to convince her that he would be a devoted, loving mate for her, but she’d accepted him without further persuasion.

What had he done to deserve her? When they broke for air, Koss touched his forehead to hers, making sure his weight was supported by his forearms even as hers wrapped around him.

“I love you. You don’t need to thank me for doing what I would have done anyway,” she explained.

“But the pon farr is an ordeal even for a Vulcan woman to endure. It must have been quite a chore for you, k’diwa,” he protested, but she let out a quiet laugh against his lips.

“Koss, none of that was work for me,” she promised and in a final emotional upheaval from his pon farr, Koss’s eyes burned with tears. “I actually enjoyed seeing you that way.”

“Truly?” His eyes widened, and, to his astonishment, she nodded her head. “Then we both have reason to look forward to my next Burning.”

At that, she drew him into a deep, passionate kiss. He was thoroughly addicted this form of intimacy, even if he hadn’t completely mastered it yet. With a gentle push, she coaxed him onto his back and straddled his hips. What could he do but marvel at her as she took his lok inside her once more?

“Ashau nash-veh du.” Her whisper made Koss’s eyes widen. When had she learned to say ‘I love you’ in Vuhlkansu? Sitting up and wrapping his arms around her as she rode him, Koss buried his face in the crook of her neck and returned her sentiment. He loved her desperately and wanted to ensure that she knew just how much.

And she would know. They had all the time in the world, now.

--

A week after his pon farr began, both Koss and his betrothed were well enough to return to their respective occupations. Every morning since, he made a point of escorting her to the Embassy. They received several curious looks, but neither paid any attention. The pair were in a world of their own during their morning conversations. 

Several weeks after their betrothal, the two strolled leisurely down the footpath leading to the Embassy, chatting away.

“So when do I get to meet your family?” She asked smiling curiously up at him.

“It will certainly be prior to the wedding, but my parents’ schedules are separate and quite full. I cannot promise an exact date until I have spoken to them about you. I...should warn you that my parents are quite devoted to the old traditions. The idea of their son marrying a Human will likely surprise them. I will, of course, defend you, ashaya, but I cannot promise that they will not attempt to question you rather vigorously,” Koss cautioned, but she just kissed his cheek.

“Don’t worry. I’m quite prepared to be interrogated. I expect they’ll cut a more intimidating figure than you did the first time I saw you, but after sitting across a negotiating table with Andorians and Tellarites, I can handle it,” she said, and Koss’s eyes widened in surprise.

“Did I intimidate you when we met?” His voice came out smaller than usual, but the Ambassador wrapped her arms around his waist.

“A little, but not in a bad way. You were helping me, I know, but finding a Vulcan who was much larger than me hovering over me definitely made me feel small,” she said looking up at him. “I still feel like that, but in a good way. It just means I have a tall, broad, handsome protector who will soon be my husband.”

Koss lifted an eyebrow and tugged her a little closer, not caring one whit about how public this spot was. He tilted her chin up so she was looking directly into his eyes.

“I will always protect you, k’diwa,” he promised before leaning in and kissing her forehead. This public display wasn’t necessary, but he wanted the rest of the Embassy staff and visitors to be under no illusions about the Ambassador’s relationship status. She was taken. She was his. “When we are both home again this evening, I have something I wish to show you.”

“Oh? Well, I’ll look forward to that,” she said cupping his cheek. “I better get inside or I’ll be late. See you this evening, sweetheart.”

Placing a final, chaste kiss on her lips, Koss watched until his mate had disappeared through the Embassy doors before beginning to make his way to his current project’s worksite.

Koss was late arriving home that evening. He knew his ashaya would already be waiting in his home with a smile and an embrace for him upon his return, though. He ached to hold her again. He enjoyed his job, but after a long day such as today, he desired nothing more than to hold her in his arms...to feel her gentle affection as she nuzzled into the crook of his neck.

As the door slid open, Koss draped his outer robe on the hook in the entryway, glancing around to determine her location. Seeing no obvious signs, he called out.

“Ashal-veh?”

“In the kitchen!” Her answering call made Koss release a heavy, relieved breath. Toeing off his shoes, he straightened his clothes and made his way to her. When he turned the corner, though, he was met with the sight of his partner and his father sitting at the kitchen table chatting over tea. Koss hadn’t planned on her meeting either of his parents yet. “Join us for a cup of tea?”

“Of course, k’diwa,” Koss responded, and she let out a quiet huff of laughter as she poured one for him. He strode over to the table, took a seat beside his lover, and looked to their guest. Kollos’s hair had grayed further since the last time Koss saw him, but he looked more relaxed. Clearly separation had been the healthiest, most logical choice for his parents. “Father, I was not expecting a visit or I would have made a point of returning home early. You do not visit often.”

“There was no need. The Ambassador has been kind enough to entertain me in your absence. I was unaware that Humans could be so logical,” the older man said lifting an almost amused eyebrow at the woman in question. Such a reaction from a former Senior Minister of the High Command was rare indeed. What had gone on in his absence? Then again, with a diplomat for a lover, why should he be surprised that she’d handled the situation with delicacy? “From the familiarity of your language, my son, I take it you have some news for me?”

Glancing at his ashaya, Koss took her hand in his beneath the table and faced his father.

“The Ambassador and I are to be married.” Expecting a somewhat negative reaction to his announcement, Koss blinked in surprise when all his father did was nod his head.

“Though I had not anticipated that you would select a Human, I cannot say that I disapprove of the one you chose,” Kollos said setting his tea cup on the table. “I have the honor of being acquainted with your betrothed through Ambassador Soval. To my shame, I was abrupt with her when we were first introduced. She is the only Human who has possessed the courage to point out a flaw in my logic. As you can imagine, I did not accept that easily.”

Koss looked at his fiancee in askance, but she blinked innocently up at him. He would have to coax that particular story from her later.

“In my defense, I didn’t know he was your dad,” she said with a slight blush, “though, now that I know, I see the resemblance.”

“For my son’s safety and yours, Ambassador, I must ask Koss a few questions in private. I hope you understand,” Kollos said, and she nodded her head.

“Of course. I’ll leave you boys in peace. If you need me, I’ll be in the study. It was good to see you again, Minister Kollos,” she murmured placing a soft kiss on Koss’s cheek before stepping out of the kitchen. After watching her retreat toward the stairs, Koss turned to see his father looking at him.

“Why a Human?” Instead of accusation, all Koss could find in his father’s voice was curiosity.

“It was...logical. She is intelligent, nurturing, driven, kind...a more suitable match than I could ever have anticipated,” he explained, and his father nodded his head silently. “She is beautiful. When I am with her, I am complete.”

Kollos looked at him in surprise.

“Then she is the one. You love her.” Koss could hear a hint of longing in his father’s voice. His parents’ marriage had never been anything more than an arrangement of necessity. To marry for nothing more than personal desire was a luxury neither of them had been able to afford. “I offer you my sincerest congratulations, my son, though, I must ask for both her safety and yours...do you believe she will be able to withstand your Burning when it comes?”

Koss lifted his chin proudly.

“She already has.”

“Indeed?” His father’s graying eyebrows shot nearly up to his hairline. At Koss’s confirmation, the elder Vulcan nodded his head in approval. “Then you have undoubtedly chosen well. As both your occupations are based here, I take it you will remain on Vulcan?”

“Yes, although, if her diplomatic posting should change in the future, I have made it clear that I will happily accompany her to any place in the galaxy,” the architect said, and his father nodded his head.

“That is as it should be,” Kollos murmured, taking a sip of his tea. “And the wedding?”

“I have mentioned to her that you and mother follow the old traditions, and she expressed an interest in a Vulcan ceremony.” Shifting slightly in his seat, Koss asked a question that he almost dreaded the answer to. “I know mother had her heart set on my marrying another Vulcan woman. How do you believe she will react when she finds out that I am to be bonded with a Human?”

Releasing a heavy sigh, Kollos looked at his son. The mere mention of his ex-wife made the former minister’s shoulders tense.

“Truthfully, I do not know. Near the end of our marriage, your mother’s logic often escaped me. I would hope, however, that since you are content with your mate, she will be, as well,” he said observing the thoughtful way his son nodded his head. The two were much alike. “Sa-fu...I realize that I have not stated this as much as I should, but I wish you to know that I am gratified that you are my son. I have always been proud of you, but I am especially so about the man you have become. No matter what disagreements your mother and I may have, we will always agree that we love you.”

Koss’s eyes widened in surprise at the openness of his father’s expression.

“You know I feel the same, and that I have always been proud to say that I am your son,” he returned, and the two men came as close to smiling as two Vulcans could.

When his father had departed, Koss made his way upstairs to the study. His k’diwa was seated at his desk flipping through a book of Vulcan poetry that he’d been reading to her. She was still learning to read Vuhlkansu, but she knew enough to parse her way through the ones he’d already read to her.

“‘Your scent is as plentiful as the sands,’” she read as she heard his approaching footsteps, “‘surrounding me with endless grains of your katra.’”

“Tirek’s prose has become a favorite of yours, has it not? You tend to revisit his verses many days after I have read them to you,” Koss noted as he moved to her side and leaned against his desk as he watched her nod up at him.

“His voice is so clear. It’s hard not to love his poetry,” she murmured, and Koss trailed the tips of two of his fingers down her neck. Humming in pleasure, she allowed her eyelids to flutter closed as she leaned into his touch. “Just like it’s impossible not to love you, sweetheart.”

Koss allowed himself to bask in the warmth of her praise for a moment before he marked her page in the book and closed it. Setting it to the side, he shuffled a few of his blueprints and laid one on top of the stack.

“There’s a new project I’d like you to take a look at,” he said as his heart sped up. Would she like it? As his lover leaned forward to take a look, Koss saw a smile spread over her face. He wondered which part of the design had caused it.

“Wow, this is going to be a beautiful home! If it’s not breaking some sort of client confidentiality, may I ask whose it’s going to be?” When he remained silent for a beat too long, she looked up at him. Swallowing nervously, Koss looked straight into his fiancee’s eyes as he spoke.

“Ours. The caverns below will remain unchanged, but this design will combine the two houses we have into one. We will have room to accommodate a family,” he admitted quietly, “but only if you wish it. If you would prefer that our homes remain separate, I will, of course, respect your choice.”

Her lips parted in surprise.

“This is for us?” When Koss nodded his head, his ashaya’s eyes filled with tears, and she practically dove into his arms. The joy he felt from her mind reassured him as he embraced her. Her voice came out muffled as she spoke against his shoulder. “Oh, Koss, I love it! You have no idea how much this means to me. You really didn’t have to go to all that trouble, but I’m so grateful. Thank you!”

Precious girl. How could she expect any less than the best from a lover who designs homes for a living? Did she not realize that he would build her townhouses and villas, monuments and castles, all at a mere hint from her sweet lips? She was his partner, and if anyone deserved to benefit from his skills, it was her. He would ensure her comfort and safety with his labor.

Nuzzling into her hair, Koss held her as close as he physically could without crushing her.

“Such efforts are no trouble...not when they are for you, my mate,” he murmured, and her shoulders trembled as quiet sniffles escaped her. Rubbing soft, comforting circles on her back, Koss helped her through her emotions.

Vaguely, he acknowledged that once, not too long ago, such emotional displays would have seemed trivial, perhaps even an annoyance to him. Since meeting his ashaya, though, he’d learned that Humans must face their emotions head on in order to move forward. It was a similar process to Vulcan emotions, but instead of simply meditating through them and suppressing them once they were acknowledged, Humans functioned differently. They had to ride their emotions out and have a healthy, periodic emotional release in order to remain in peak condition.

How did they do it? Koss was confounded by how Humans handled such strong, volatile feelings, much less how they made them work to their advantage. They were extraordinary beings, and in Koss’s humble opinion, he’d been mated by the best among them - an honor he never would have expected, but one he was dead-set on remaining worthy of.

-- Six Months Later --

At the appointed time, Koss stood in the center of the courtyard and struck the marriage gong. Unlike his previous nuptials, this time, the weight of his ornate ceremonial robes was completely inconsequential as they billowed around him in the heat of Vulcan’s suns. He watched as his betrothed stepped through the gateway into the courtyard, and his chest swelled with pride at her beauty.

Everything about this ceremony would be done in accordance with Vulcan tradition with two notable exceptions at his ashaya’s request. First, the gown that she wore was white in color rather than purple as Vulcan tradition would have dictated. Koss couldn’t help but admire her radiance as she walked across the ancient stone with Ambassador Soval at her side. The second exception was that the Ambassador would give her away in accordance with another Earth tradition. She claimed that as he had been a close friend and confidant of her father’s, he deserved the honor. Koss hadn’t really understood the importance of this particular addition, but if it was significant to the woman he loved, then he wasn’t about to refuse her.

As the Ambassador escorted her to the center of the courtyard and gave her a polite bow, Koss couldn’t take his eyes off his bride. Hyperaware of their bond on this most important of days, he tried to convey through emotion alone how much he adored her.

Technically, they weren’t supposed to have formed the mental bond until after the ceremony, but the early occurrence of the pon farr was a commonly accepted exception to that rule. The blush that colored her cheeks at the strength of his affection was more gratifying to him than even the grandest of his architectural successes. 

Though, logically, Koss was aware of the presence of the guests and the priest conducting the ceremony, the world narrowed to just the two of them as they knelt in front of each other before the brazier. The heat of the ceremonial flames burned as hot as Vulcan blood, bathing them both in a warm glow as they touched the first two fingers of their hands together in a chaste ozh’esta.

“What ye are about to witness comes down from the time of the beginning without change. This is the Vulcan heart. This is the Vulcan soul. This is our way,” the Vulcan priest’s voice sent a hush through the crowd, but it faded into a gentle buzz for Koss and his bride. This had been a long time coming for both of them.

Afterward, as the pair were congratulated by the various guests in attendance, the crowd parted and went quiet. Koss’s parents approached the new couple, and everyone was waiting with bated breath to see what they would do. His mother’s eyes skimmed the bride briefly before turning to her son. Likely remembering the polite diligence with which her new daughter-in-law had answered her many questions, her own sense of etiquette prevailed. She murmured her congratulations, placed a supportive hand on Koss’s shoulder, and made her way toward one of the arched doorways to take her leave.

That was not the negative reaction that Koss had anticipated. It certainly was not overtly positive, but he would gladly accept neutrality. That was a solid foundation upon which they could build.

Koss’s father, however, greeted the pair warmly. Standing tall and proud in his formal robes, he looked between both of them with the closest thing to affection that a Vulcan could express in public.

“My sincerest congratulations to you, my son,” he stated before fixing his son’s bride with a warm gaze. “As for you, ko-fu, I bid you welcome to our family. I believe you will fit your new role effortlessly.”

“Thank you, osu. Forgive me, but my Vuhlkansu is still a work in progress. What does ‘ko-fu’ mean?”

At her question, Kollos leaned in a little further with a twinkle in his eyes and an almost-smile tugging at his lips.

“It means ‘daughter.’” While she processed the implications of his answer, Kollos excused himself and made his way through the crowd. Barely registering his father’s interaction with one of his bride’s friends from Earth, Koss and his wife returned to the task of speaking with their guests.

His Adun’a’s friends from the Enterprise even made a point of attending, much to her joy. Commander Shran and Captain Archer in particular offered them their sincerest congratulations, as well as a large bottle of Andorian ale. Koss even got a handshake from the Andorian, though, he didn’t bother to try explaining to him the significance of such a gesture in Vulcan culture. Given the amusement in Archer’s eyes, Koss gathered that the Commander would find out once the two men were safely back on the Enterprise.

After much mingling, Koss managed to sneak his wife away for a moment alone. As soon as they were out of sight in a small stone alcove, he did what he realized he’d wanted to do since the moment he found her scratching I’Tol’s belly in her new backyard: he caught one of her hands in his, cupped the back of her head with the other, and rested his forehead against his wife’s, savoring their closeness.

This serene interlude was filled with the weight of all the sentiments they’d both dared give voice to since his initial confession in the caverns. Koss felt he’d said all that he could, but it would never be enough to fully express his feelings. He would never stop telling her how much he loved her, but this moment deserved something more.

While he held the back of her head, he used the techniques his father had so diligently taught him to initiate a brief mind meld. Their marital bond shared a great deal, but a mind meld was a more complete form of communication. She knew the significance of such a gesture and the associated risks as well as Koss did, so when she felt the connection between them open up even wider, she gasped.

But she deserved this much. To her husband, she needed to see how deeply he loved her, especially on the day of their bonding.

When he ended the meld, he wasn’t surprised to find her lips seeking his. As Koss kissed his wife, luxuriating in the simple joy of the knowledge that he was hers, he couldn’t help but feel grateful for his old mentor’s advice about beginning again and for Soval’s nudge in the right direction. Without those, he might never have grasped the unexpected warmth that had stumbled into his life and his heart, nor had the courage to tell her how he felt.

“Hey, lovebirds, how about a picture to mark the occasion?” Captain Archer asked from a few feet behind them. Giving a smile that sent Koss’s heart thudding faster in his side, his wife coaxed him into following her former commanding officer back into the center of the courtyard.

After a few shots of the new couple together, the Captain set his camera on a stone, activated the timer, and pulled Commander Shran over to join them in the frame. Koss and his wife posed in the center, the latter throwing an arm around the Andorian’s shoulders, while Soval and Archer flanked either side of the trio. Looking beside him at the small group, Koss realized there were bound to be several new frames on their mantle by the time their two homes were combined into one.

~*~*~

Vulcan Words:

Nemaiyo na’ t’nash-veh ha’kiv = Thank you for my life

Ashau nash-veh du = I love you

ashaya = love

k’diwa = a shortened version of k’hat’n’dlawa (a person who is half of one’s katra)

Ashal-veh = darling

sa-fu = son

osu = sir

ko-fu = daughter

~*~

Taglist:

@bigblissandlove1​ @darkmattervibes​ @emilie786​ @horta-in-charge​ @toebeans-mcgee​ @android-boyfriends​ @wafflingchemist​

[original-character-championship]

Bracket C Roun 1

Poll 14

Yael [Yah-EL] Edelman  (@when-wax-wings-melt) vs. Myghal Tregory - The Diminutive Scholar (@light-lost-logs)

155. Yael [Yah-EL] Edelman  (@when-wax-wings-melt)

she/her

My gorgeous gorgeous girl is your favorite mid-sized black jewish bi ace protagonist in the entire world! Have you ever haunted YOUR best friend and tried to stop him from avenging your untimely death? No? Well, guess who has! She's got it all: Judaism, attraction to women AND appreciation of a good looking boy, a tummy and thighs, brown eyes and a tongue that just don't stop trashing the hell out of the only person in the world who can hear her speak! She's permanently seventeen but she would have wanted to be a teacher, were she still alive, in order to help kids so they don't feel as much of the same undying anger she carries around with her every single day! She's traumatized, she loves her family, she's... YAEL!!

Midsized, dark brown skin, typically braids down to mid-back or so, dark brown eyes, big red glasses. She wears a star of david around her neck and also has some awesome fashion sense! She likes tighter tops w big baggy pants.

156. Myghal Tregory - The Diminutive Scholar (@light-lost-logs)

He/Him

He's a sentient rat trying to find the secret to immortality in a gothic sci-fi version of victorian london run by space bats that's underground hiding from the sun (who is sentient and will not let breaking the laws of physics and suchlike happen in the daylight) because he found out that rats only live two years and HES ONE AND A QUARTER.

He's like OH. HOLY SHIT. I DON'T WANT TO DIE. THAT'S NOT FAIR. because it's not to him, right? He's as sentient as any human or cat. And they get to live for decades. You know humans in the neath (underground) can live basically forever? Humans get to come back when they die down there. You know what doesn't? Rats. Rats have one life and they die and they only get two years but they are literally as sentient as everyone else. But also everyone treats them shittily because they're rats. Nobody takes him seriously as an academic. Nobody! they let tigers run a whole continent but they won't let a rat practice chemistry.

He has spent BASICALLY THE MAJORITY OF HIS LIFE studying and nobody even lets him check books out of the library because he's a ten inch tall rat. And everything is human sized and nobody respects him and you know he's just had enough which is why HE HAS ACCQUIRED A GUN. He WILL GET THE REQUIRED STUDYING MATERIALS FOR ACHIEVING IMMORTALITY (which is possible here) WHETHER HE GETS THEM NICELY OR HE HAS TO SHOOT PEOPLE. he's fucking fed up of not being listened to.

He is 11"" tall. He is cornish. He is a rat. He is afraid of his own mortality. He is furious about the injustices done to him. He is doing illegal science unto himself in order to get time, just a little more time, to enjoy his life. To find something worth living for. To be able to say at the end of it all ""yes, i lived a good life, i saw more of the world than my room and i experienced its wonders enough to fill my heart"".

He has a gun and he will use it.

What else could you ask from a character? Do YOUR blorbos have guns to defend their rights to academia and The Forbidden Sciences Beyond The Colour Of Time? No? Then vote for Treg. A vote for Treg is a vote for ALL ratkind.

Treg is a small, fawn blaze berkshire rat with a bristle coat. Which in rat fancier speak means he's ginger on top and white underneath, with rough fur, sort of like a cream and white german shepard. He has a pink nose, ears, hands, feet and tail, with red eyes and white whiskers. The fur on his face sort of looks like a little moustache and goatee, just a bit.

He wears a white knitted jumper made of wool, brown doll's trousers (it's sort of hard to find clothes fitted for rats) some shoes which are basically just doll's shoes that have been dipped in wax underneath so he has some semblance of soles for wearing on the hard cobblestones, and a tiny little pair of round spectacles that are held in place on his face with string and clips that hold onto the ears. His eyeglasses are stained in Violant, which is a very vibrant purple-scarlet colour from underground that forces you to remember things you otherwise might forget. He wears these because a lot of things in the neath can make you Forget knowledge you might want, and he is determined not to. He also has a woolen hat he wears sometimes if he's cold.

[thequietmanno1]

TheLreads, Vigilantes ch 116, Replies Part 2

1) “Yeah, see Koichi, there’s no escape from the nightmare”- I do appreciate that the symbolism of Koichi taking up his master’s old Knuckles was a mis-direction all along, when Koichi was really going to make his own independent and far more useful ones inspired by Knuckles’ instead. 2) “Ah now that takes me back… Back to older times… Older, more fucked up times…”- Are you sure about that? I mean, you weren’t in danger of drinking yourself into oblivion from the plot points in those days. 3) “Don’t worry, I’m sure he’s about to dedicate his heart”- He’ll dedicate his Fist, for he has learned how to punch with his heart! 4) “MOTHERFUCKER, DIDN’T YOU DO THAT ALREADY? IT LOOKED PRETTY FLATTENED TO ME”- Not flattened enough, if Koichi could stumble around the sub-basement like that. 5) “Oh no, the humanity, what will be of koichi now that he found out he can fucking use his quirk around his body like captain celebrity and thus be invulnerable to any damage~”- And that he’s learned how to punch like a cannon, putting him on a level above his master’s traditional beatdowns with a single blow? 6) “OHHHHHHHHHH

NICE ONE THERE. NOW THIS LOOKS PROPERLY SICK”- Wicked sick, even. Time for Koichi to showcase some crazy, now he’s negating all the rules of touch. (Vigilantes ch 6)

7) “What I mean is, Koichi is going to win against knuckleduster in a fist fight, mark my words.”-Welp, at the very least, his Knuckle style packs more of an enhanced wallop than his master’s, given he cracked that wall like an egg. (Vigilantes ch 77) 8) “What`s wrong Puto? You know he can make a hole on a wall with his fist-style, that`s not impressive.”- Not quite. The actual holes he can punch in walls needed the true way of the fist to realise their true potential.

(Vigilantes ch 114) 9) “Oh I think Ultras-instinct Koichi has taken over once again.

Oh boy, something magical is about to take place after all.”- Nope, Now we’re seeing the real magic. Ultra-instinct fists are go!

(Vigilantes ch 115)

10) “Impossible Koichi, you can’t squash a roach. If you do, it will come back more powerful than ever”- Nomura still tried, and now Koichi returns, with the power of Fist on his side! Poor sod will know exactly what’s about to hit him.

11) “What’s with the Jojo pose Koichi? I thought you got visited by the Ghost of Knuckles past, not Jotaro Kujo.”- If you’ve got a power fist in your arsenal, you need a Jojo pose for it to have maximum effectiveness.

12) “And with that we can pretty much mark the story as over. There’s literally nothing more that McBee can do to threaten Koichi now, because the boy has no limitations on his quirk, and he is invulnerable to physical damage- well, more invulnerable than usual that is.”- That’s not even counting the fact that Nomura’s self-destructing from his own power-up whilst Koichi’s will allow him to win even if he doesn’t land a hit anymore.

@thelreads

[athousandyearstime]

Social situation ends awkwardly, leaving 6 dead 13 injured.

[astaroth1357]

Demigod MC Series: Demeter

Have I been using this series to vicariously punish Belphie for the events of Season 1? I cannot confirm nor deny that statement.

Demigod MC Series: Intro, Aphrodite, Hermes, Hades, Dionysus, Demeter

Lucifer

Didn't think too much of the "human" when they popped out of the portal. Sure they had a straw hat and a huge basket full of produce but it wasn’t like they were… Wait… No… Were they…?

Oh no. Oh nonononono, this is not good…!!

Demeter is notoriously doting and protective of her children (see her freakout and breakdown after Hades abducted of Persephone as proof) and they've pretty much done the EXACT. SAME. THING. here!!

It was a mad scramble by him and Diavolo to contact and appease their godly Mother Bear before she came roaring down to Devildom herself to turn them all into barley. Thankfully, Zeus must have intervened at some point because though she was indeed PISSED, she didn't threaten to barge in… yet.

She made one thing very clear. Bend so much as a single hair on her precious child's head and there would be WAR…

The MC received a 24 hour security detail after that. Just Mammon wasn't going to cut it, he needed NO chances. It was a full rotation of Mammon, him and Beel for the entirety of their stay (Asmo and Levi both threw hissy fits at the prospect of babysitting, Satan couldn’t be trusted not to kill them just to irritate him, and Belphie was out for… obvious reasons).

In some ways, it wasn’t so bad. The MC was a very mild sort of person, rather even tempered. He’d dare say they were pleasant, mostly content to just tend to their gardens and be out in the moonlight…

But the problem was, he just could not convince them to stay OUT of nature. Including the forests, which were full of hellish beasts fully intent on gnawing their flesh from their bones… and their specialty was plants, not animals, sooo…

Their habit of sneaking out to wander the woods got so bad that he very nearly considered pulling a Belphie 2 and locking them in the basement for their own good. But Devil knows what damage their mother would do if she found out…

At least they make for pleasant company… And Diavolo seems to like them quite a bit himself so the mortal gets a pass from him. Now if they��d only consider their own safety for a change…

Mammon

They make him a KILLING.

Like, no seriously. Their produce is insane!! He’s never tasted food so good, especially stuff that’s come fresh from the ground! It only took a few berries for Mammon to throw on a straw hat himself and start harvesting! He’s a farmer now, baby!!

Weeellll not quite. He’s still absolutely only in it for the money, but anything he brings to a farmer’s market goes so fast that he can hardly care about the labor! He’s never made this much Grimm in his life!! And it’s totally legit for a change!

He bought himself another car, paid off half of his debt, and even got Levi back that 2 or 3 grand he leant him centuries ago. Really, Mammon’s living his best life and it’s all thanks to MC!

It’s a good thing his blatant grifting doesn’t hurt his relationship with them at all, in fact they seem to enjoy having his help regardless. They bring him drinks on hot days or invite him on picnics and stuff, it’s… it’s really sweet. They’re very nice to him and he appreciates it…

But… COULD YA JUST STAY PUT ALREADY???

It drives him INSANE that they won’t stay out of dangerous places!! After he started caring about them for more than just a meal ticket it only got even worse!!

He’s not usually one for monitoring someone’s every move (that kind of control freak behavior is more a Lucifer thing) but he eventually had to set up familiars around the House just to keep them from sneaking out at night...

What was so interesting out there anyway?? There wasn’t any kind of plant that he could bring them himself! They didn’t have any need to be out there!! 

They’d keep telling him they’d be fine but it’s not like he’s going to actually buy that. They were too… nice to be dangerous or anything so why would he believe them?

No more running off, MC! Please, he’s beggin’ ya!!

Leviathan 

Wait, gardening? Like, being outdoors and stuff? Ew. No thanks, he’ll pass.

That was more or less his first reaction when they showed up and it never really got much better than that…

He admits that they’re friendly and it’s not like he dislikes them or anything, but their thing so far from his thing that they just don’t have a lot in common… you know?

For starters, they get So. Antsy. when they’re inside for too long! He tried to invite them to a marathon once, but they could hardly keep still and kept looking around like they were searching for a window… He said, “to jump out of.” They insisted just for some fresh air, but he didn’t buy it...

They’re nice enough to listen to his rants, but they’re barely ever inside for him to do so and like HELL is he going to leave his room and stand around out there for that long. Ranting is at least a one to two hour engagement! What if he gets hot out there? And have you SEEN Devildom bees?? Hell no!!

He has, however, asked them on multiple occasions to reproduce flowers he’s seen in different anime, especially ones that have a very unique look and they’ve done some real wonders with that!

He can now claim to be the only person to ever own a Ruby-Jade Vine plant, straight from the pages of TSL when it was used to brew tea for the Lord of Lechery during his brief illness and-is anyone even still listening anymore?

The point is, it’s a flower so rare it was imaginary but now HE has it!... or had it for about a week until his utter incompetence of all things plant killed it…

He begged the MC for another but they were out of the plants they needed to make it and would have to go back to the human world to find more… He’s still mourning his loss… Poor Henry 4.0…

Satan

Well… He’s called this MC “salt of the Earth” and he does truly mean it. Take of that what you will.

He doesn’t get much in the way of intellectual conversation out of this mortal UNLESS he’s talking about plants, farming, or botany… Interesting topics and complex in their own right to be sure, but that’s pretty much their wheelhouse and they like it there.

That being said, the feats that they can perform are genuinely mind-blowing! They are the ONLY person he has ever met who can cultivate the Devildom’s own ultra-rare Phantom Orchid, a plant only blooms when it reaches a perfect state of undeath (i.e. both taken care of and neglected just enough so that it's only barely alive. The balance is so tricky to master that one hasn’t bloomed down there for centuries!)

There’s also something just genuinely relaxing about watching them work or helping them in the gardens… More so than he’d ever expected from such a simple activity.

He admits that he’s taken quite a few strolls through the flower-filled courtyard of the Demon Lord’s Castle just to admire its beauty... But anything that they can grow just blows all of that out of the water!

They even taught him several magic botanical techniques so now he can grow some pretty mad plants himself. Lucifer never expected to find that giant Venus Flytrap in his closet, but one was there regardless. 😏

Just… out of curiosity one day, he asked the MC if they could make him a new kind of catnip. Not for any nefarious reason! You know… just for research purposes…

The nip they made was so effective that the House grounds were FILLED with nipped-up cats for a whole month! He was in Heaven!! (and Lucifer practically wiped those plants from existence so he couldn’t get any more… asshole...)

That must have inspired them because they apparently made a demons-only version that they told him about WELL after the fact. Had he known, he probably would have burned the stuff on principle... Do you know how dangerous demon-nip could be to them? Experiment responsibly, MC!

Asmodeus 

Ehhhh, gardening SOUNDS like one of those things that should be super Devilgram-able, but then you realize how sweaty and dirty you get in the process and it’s a huge turn off… Sorry MC.

When they first came down to the Devildom, he thought two things: 1) Such a sweet little flower child, as adorable as they were, would never survive; and 2) even if they could, he would never ever see eye-to-eye with them on the “wonders” of getting all up in the dirt.

Well, he was right about 2, but certainly not 1. Personally, he thinks his brothers worry about them too much, they ARE still a demigod.

At one point he saw a pack of hellhounds almost trample one of their vegetable gardens and they lost it. Word to the wise, never try to take on a child of Demeter in their own garden. Those hounds were wrapped up in rose vines before they could even yelp...

Yeah, the MC would be fine.

That being said, while everybody else clamors over their produce, he thinks that their flowers are really where it’s at!

Taking just five minutes in one of their gardens is something else... He’s never seen blossoms as healthy and immaculate in all the Devildom before! Their beauty could (almost) rivals his own! What they do isn’t just a hobby, it’s an art.

He’s taken multiple pictures with their blossoms and they go viral every time. It’s so rare to actually see gorgeous, petal-filled flowers in the Devildom, most of the native plants are of the man-eating variety.

His only complaint about this MC is that they seem to feel much more at home in work clothes and dirt than they do in any sort of party-look he tries to give them… Cute as they are, they can afford to gussy up sometimes can’t they? Mud and grass stains don’t make for a good look, sorry.

Beelzebub 

Beel gardens and the MC gardens as well. Add on that they seem to be able to grow all manner of fruits and veggies and he likes this one. A lot.

They had just finished apple-picking when the portal nabbed them so they had a massive basket of apples at the time. Naturally, Beel more or less stole the thing on sight, but the apples inside were so juicy and good that he almost shook them down for more on the spot!

Imagine his surprise when they, half pleadingly, explained to him that if he got them some seeds they could just grow more… and it wouldn’t even take that long.

To be clear, the formula he saw was this: Get seeds > bring seeds to mortal > mortal grows seeds > mortal makes endless supply of food….

Congratulations MC, you’ve now earned the sixthborn’s eternal loyalty after a grand total of… two minutes. He didn’t even know their name, but he was willing to take a bullet for them (provided he got more of those apples).

The next several months were spent with Beel attached to them to the hip in some way, but honestly? It was just so wholesome anyway…

If he’s helping in the garden, he never complains. He does most of the heavy lifting and actually likes being out there with them (unlike others...)

Many afternoons were spent sitting under fruit trees and talking. Sometimes, they go to the trouble of preparing a picnic or something but it would always inevitably end with Beel plucking the whole tree clean of whatever ripe (or unripe) fruit he can get his hands on with a smile. 

The MC never minded though. That’s just another excuse to grow more, right?

His only problem was when the MC would sneak out to the forest… especially when they get too antsy and just go alone. 

He HATES it when they do that! How is he supposed to keep them safe if they just wander off?? He knows that they have a special connection to nature and all, but it isn’t safe…

He’s flown in and scooped them back up to the House on numerous occasions and his “talking tos” get sterner after every rescue... Please stay put, MC! He’d have so many reasons to be sad if you were eaten… 😔

Belphegor 

Okay, he was looking for a capable, if not gullible, human. Not a shoeless flower hippy!

He honestly wasn't expecting much out of this one... Damn their little heart because they did genuinely believed his lies, it’s just that they weren't… well… They were really good at gardening.

… And it grew kind of hard to keep hating them whenever they'd show up just to give him fresh berries or a bouquet to see him smile… He may claim that his heart is made of nightmares and orphan tears, but who doesn’t enjoy being given a batch of flowers? 

Damn their sweetness too… Right to here.

When it came time to kill them he had a heavier heart than he thought he would, but kind of saw it like putting down the sacrificial lamb. Gotta be done to reach better goals... Stiff upper lip and all that.

Unfortunately for him, they had taken to carrying packets of demon-nip with them as a self-defense measure…

He wasn’t exactly sure what he expected when they shouted “Get nipped!” at him mid-attack, but it wasn’t a face full of some smelly herb! Like, really smelly…! Actually, that smelt kind of good… Hold on.

Turns out murderous rage really doesn’t last long after you get what is effectively ultra-strong catnip thrown in your face. They ended up having to go and tell Lucifer what happened themselves because Belphie was way too blissed out on the floor to do anything... They were legitimately worried they might have fried his brain...

He’s told the effects of the demon-nip lasted three days. He doesn’t know, because he hardly remembers any of it... They described him as like he was high on “weed” and “ecstasy” at the same time but he doesn’t know what either of those are either so it wasn’t helpful…

Truthfully, they were so nice to him while he was recovering that he couldn’t even be mad afterwards so all's well that ends well? Either way, he’s sleeping under their orchard trees from now on. It’s peaceful out there...

They burnt all that nip though. It’s some strong stuff...

[i-need-air]

Hybrid!AU Wolf!Bakugou Katsuki HCs Part 2.

Summary: Part 2 is here! While in part 1 it was mostly adoption and how he'd behave with you as a roommate, part two is him ✨ realizing things ✨ followed by how he'd be in a romantic relationship.

Word Count: 2k words [ oops, I did it again ]

Notes: So I said it'll be out in a few days but three [3] people asked me for part 2 and I'm a sucker soooooooo!! I could've just written a long ass fic but whatever, I thought I'd make it shorter in headcanons... hah lol right. Enjoy!

Part 1 here!

× he's a wild wolf so he's very active; like you need to understand he needs to go outside if not he'd get impatient, more aggressive, snappy, so once you took him on an easy hiking trail near your house and he loved it so once or twice a month you both go together to different places [ he demands it ]

× it's hard to keep up with him bc he's literally genetically engineered to be better than any very fit human being but he slows down for you

× morning runs at 5 a.m. bc he's insane

× is also a grandpa

× watched all documentaries on any streaming platform you could provide to him, also loves reading

× as months pass and you start to have your routine in order, word comes to you that an acquaintance is looking for a security guard at his mechanical shop two streets away from your house

× you casually mentioned it to Bakugou because he was starting to act anxious whenever you'd leave the house, so you assumed he was extra bored

× seriously, the house was spotlessly cleaned, he cooked amazingly and was occupied with your old laptop and going around the city to explore, but you guessed he wanted more independence?

× little did you know you were right but so wrong lol

× so Bakugou stared at you intensely and asked "Where?"

× it was as easy as telling him the location, him nodding and you thought he'd consider it; you didn't put any pressure on him because he already did so much to help around anyway

× well guess what bitch, next day he comes up to you saying you gotta co-sign his contract [cuz fuck society] meaning he got the job

× he was perfect for it because tall, intimidating, muscular wolf guy? who'd even mess with him? do they have a death wish?

× well, even before this he started to be... soft

× but once you really did show him you support whatever he wants to do, you give him his freedom and liberty of choice, he just reaaally changes, man

× he gets touchy, like his hands stay one second longer on your skin, he uses any excuse to have them on you, even his eyes follow you everywhere

× like c'mon, it's obvious but you didn't wanna put too much thought into it because we're respectful here

× not like you had a big fat crush on him and slowly started to realize it too

× sike bitch he knows

× you think his super-hearing didn't catch the way your heartbeat spikes up every single time he touches you? *please*

× i think he knows before you know

× meanwhile he is working to discover his feelings too

× so your relationship slowly turns into a couple's like relationship but without anything official and of course no kissing or such [ sadly ]

× would get jealous easily

× basically because nothing is talked between you two and deep down is insecure

× why the hell do you smell like other people? was it just a hug or something else? hell, why would you even hug people when he's right there??? just ask and don't touch some extras????

× another thing he does is getting very close to you while you talk to somebody else; scoffs and glares at them too

× ok so!! gifts! he really appreciates any gift you give him but scolds you if you do because you genuinely don't need to do that

× of course he just scolds you and calls you an idiot so I do hope you already learned his language

× it basically means that you shouldn't have done it, he's really grateful but seriously you shouldn't have

× like that one time you saved up money to get him a good computer and he forgot how to speak for like an hour

× the softest thank you ever afterwards

× still sounded rough but he was shocked as fuck

× one thing that remained in your brain were his friends, as sometimes he'd mention them

× so you took it upon yourself to find them, of course with his permission

× gets genuinely overwhelmed and plays it off saying he wouldn't mind knowing where those idiots ended but you didn't miss the way his voice trembled

× for you to find them you needed names and any information he could provide so that's when he, after a long silence and a mesmerized look on his face, started really talking about his life

× which was fucked; won't get much into detail but he was indeed in a fighting ring, people came and bet on whoever was stronger, he even had to fight his friends, everything was filled with abuse and their conditions were subhuman...

× just overall awful

× you couldn't help but hug him tight, feeling him shake in your arms

× with a hesitant voice he asked if you really did think there was a chance to find them

× just couldn't believe how amazing he felt in your arms

× or how your determination that night made his heart clench and took a big weight off his shoulders

× anywho;;;; after his first paycheck he takes you out on cute dates

× never calls them that, just demands you dress up [helps you out cuz boy got style] and takes you to a nice coffee shop or something

× AND on your fifth not date cuz you're not official but there's this weird tension between you date he finally kinda s n a p s

× you honestly didn't expect the waiter to flirt with you, he came out as very pushy and even if you were a lil uncomfortable you smiled and brushed it off

× when the waiter suggested giving you his number the sandy blond hybrid growled

× which i shit you not made the whole coffee shop freeze

× and you froze too

× but neither of you could say anything because the oblivious fuck kept talking

× basically joking about how you should keep your pet in a leash, to which you got up, threw some money on the table, grabbed Bakugou by the hand and leave before he'd rip someone's head off

× it only took you to touch Bakugou's arm to calm him down as he followed behind you wordlessly

× so you stood outside, angry, deep red eyes on your figure

× and silence

× his hand still in yours

× it was warm and amazing and you felt angry but your heart was beating loudly; angry at the waiter that you wanted to go full Karen on and get fired but excited because that growl shook you to the core, as if you could tell it was territorial and it was because of that pig flirting with you and did Bakugou Katsuki just lace his fingers with you?!

× "Oi." he interrupted your thoughts

× he turned your frame towards him and pulled you [kinda harshly] into him

× you'd make a comment about it but brain empty, just Bakugou Katsuki blushing

× "You're mine, you get it?"

× skdjflglykshs

× it sounded like he asked but it was a demand so oops you're his now ok bye

× like I said, boy isn't dumb so he lowkey knew you felt something too

× legit from there on he's just soft as fuck

× has a hard time opening up but visibly tries for you

× still continues to be a pain in the ass, Bakugou Style, but with a loving teasing attitude behind it

× his eyes give him away all the time

× they shine whenever you're in his field of view so congrats because, and this is the best part:

× WOLVES MATE FOREVER 💕💓💞💗💝💟

× oh yeah, he's yours, no takebacks

× he isn't one to half-ass the relationship; you're his now and he'll do anything for you

× big time touch starved it hurts

× because he is shy

× so whenever you introduce him to hand holding and cuddles, he can't get enough

× not big on PDA [ and not recommended since human-hybrid relationships are kiiiinda frowned upon but it's getting better ]

× although at home it's another deal

× seriously cuddle him; he's big into the protector vibe so he's a big spoon almost exclusively unless it's to sleep on top of you

× speaking of! accept that even if your relationship isn't that intimate, he'd still hint about sleeping together in the same bed

× so you better catch on when he does because he'll just click his tongue and call you needy

× while dragging you to bed

× sleeps holding you, his nose in your hair or in the crook of your neck

× unless it's summer then stay on your side 💅

× you know those kisses that just scream "I can't get enough of you"? that's his whole kissing vibe in a sentence

× hell, even the gentlest kiss gives that vibe away and it'll 100% leave you breathless

× doesn't have experience but is a very fast learner

× pays very close attention to your body language

× really into biting your skin enough to leave marks

× wear his hoodies

× no, I'm fucking serious, wear them now

× his chest puffs and he turns into a blushing mess when you do it the first times because his scent is on you

× scenting is a big thing for him so of course he's gonna love it

× 10x more territorial because now he has a mate to protect

× jealous but trusts you

× still very jealous though

× let's all pretend he is definitely not scenting you before you go out because it's in his nature and it is embarrassing

× the first time he tells you he loves you it's when he's feeling vulnerable

× the search for his friends is still on-going, he feels less than adequate as a providing mate, is pissed at the world for treating him like an inferior animal when they created him, everything is piled on his shoulders and whenever than happens he closes off

× you notice immediately

× will not tell you at first

× it's only when you go to bed and he turns his back to you when you really know it's bad

× even if you fought before, he'd angrily snuggle you at night-time

× now it's so different

× hug him, whisper sweet nothings in his ear, pull a blanket all over you both and big spoon him, he'd start shaking and talking in no time

× will hide his tears from you but you'd know

× "You're the best fucking thing that happened to me, [Y/N]... I—... Shit... I love you so much."

× neither of you slept that night

× excuse you? drink some water and pray to jesus;;; you talked about feelings, ok? communication is key in a relationship, puh-lease

× [ i have this whole nsfw hcs post already cookin in my brain so maybe I'll make it happen cuz y'all know he has a mating season and all that comes with it 👀 ]

× back to being children of jesus here

× thanks the moon, the heavens and all the gods for putting you in his life; boy didn't believe in destiny but deep down he thinks you were meant to be

× you still better wash the dishes or you'll get your ass kicked.

Extra:

× you did find some of his friends, little by little, and even if he acted nonchalant, like k das cool, it was obvious he was extremely happy

× so they did get adopted too

× you got in contact with them on social media and they were all very excited about meeting

× so it was a chaotic meeting with a dog hybrid called Kirishima and a mouse like vibrat yellow guy called Kaminari

× they all were looking for Bakugou too since they were very worried about where he ended

× Kirishima shed manly tears when seeing Bakugou

× as they instantly welcomed you in their small group, they informed you both that the majority of the squad was adopted and they're in contact, while they're still actively looking for the others

× cue to the softest expression you've seen on Bakugou in public followed by "That's good"

× silence

× shock and silence

× Kaminari turning to you and whispering "You did this" with a hand on his heart, lips trembling as he wiped an imaginary tear

× insert instantly snappy Bakugou

× when everyone laughed and continued to make plans to meet up with the others, he just looked at you conversing with them, soft expression again on his features and his chest warming

× "Oh! Look, he's doing it again! Quick, take a pictur—"

× "SHINE!"

[dameronology]

it's no use, i just do {bucky barnes}

'if i just wanted someone to hold, then really anyone would do/i'd close my eyes and really try not to turn them into you, but it's no use, i just love you' - no use i just do, hayley williams

(a.k.a: the one where bucky needs a hug, but specifically from you)

eugh more bucky stuff from my drafts? yes. i think so. truth be told, I started writing this like 3 months ago (whenever flowers for vases came out) but it's been sat collecting dust. enjoy :-)

- jazz xx

p.s this is spoiler free!

The nights were always hardest for Bucky Barnes.

The dark always reminded him of the furthest corners of his mind; the ones holding his worst memories, skeletons collecting dust, rotting away until he forgot about them completely or forced them out with intensive therapy. Both were options that he was completely dreading - so he forced them down, forced them to the back and did everything within his power to ignore. It was easy enough during the day, when he was surrounded by his friends, occupied by work and the buzz of New York City.

Then the sun went away, and with the rising of the moon came the echoes and ghosts of Winter Soldier's past. Thanks to the likes of Netflix and YouTube, the modern world was filled with enough things to distract Bucky from the grips of his own mind. Sometimes it worked, sometimes it didn't.

And tonight was one of the nights where it didn't. Every time he shut his eyes - squeezed them shut and gripped onto his thin blankets like a flimsy anchor to the present - he got flashbacks. Reminders of the things he'd done and the people he'd hurt. They always had the same look in their eyes, whenever they flashed into his mind. He couldn't see it then, but now he could feel again, he knew it was fear. The same look he had in his eyes every time he was clamped into a chair and forced to have the last remaining ounce of his humanity wiped.

Bucky's hold-ups about his feelings for you seemed almost comical compared to the problems he dealt with then. But he could feel more now, which meant his brain was so hyperaware of every little thing he felt for you; love, attachment, fear. All things that were enough to send him into a spiral, even if the feeling of your arms around him and lips meshed against his was the first reminder of his humanity since nineteen-forty-fucking-five.

Distance had felt like the answer. Cutting you out completely and acting like he hadn't fallen into your bed every night for six months seeking comfort. It was kind of a dick move, but it was one you understood. Actually, no, it wasn't, because you didn't understand a single thing the man ever fucking did. That's probably why you'd let him go so easily - people came and went. Maybe he was just supposed to be the latter.

How was it going, you ask? Given that Bucky had elbowed his way into your apartment complex at 3AM and was pacing outside your front door - pretty fucking terribly. Normally, he wasn't that bad at resisting the urge to seek you out, but tonight had been hard. Too hard. His hands were still shaking, shirt still sticking to his back with sweat. The nightmares had been...visual, to say the least. He felt like a monster, and you were the only person he trusted enough to convince him otherwise.

"Hey, dumbass. I have a Ring doorbell - what the fuck are you doing out there?"

Bucky jumped at the sound of your voice. Technology: 1. Barnes: 0.

The front door swung open, revealing a tired-looking you. Your hair was pushed back off your face, large nightshirt swamping your body. He knew you got mad when your beauty sleep was interrupted, but you got even madder when he suffered in silence.

"I..." Bucky trailed off.

"Nightmares. I know." You stepped aside. "Come in."

You didn't push any further, or berate him for his radio silence over the last few weeks. He was grateful for that. You were the only person who didn't ask so many questions all the time. Bucky didn't mind talking, but recounting his entire life story to Sam Wilson whilst they drove to Walmart wasn't his idea of fun.

Your apartment still felt homier than his. The walls were covered in photos of you and your friends and family, and shitty little drawings done by your various, younger relatives. Your fridge had postcards and letters hung on it, and there was clutter all over the kitchen counter. The thousands of pillows piled high on your sofa were practically a safe haven. There was a soft scent of vanilla hanging in the air from all your little diffusers, making him smile slightly.

"You got new curtains?" Bucky helplessly pointed to your window.

"How very observant of you." You placed a hand on his arm as you brushed past him. "What's going on, Buck?"

"With my life, or just tonight?"

"I don't think we have time for the first one." You fell onto the sofa. "Sit."

He took a seat beside you; not on you, but close enough so that your knees were touching. "Every time I close my eyes, I remember."

"That wasn't you." You gently reminded him, reaching out to push his hair back. "Not then and not now."

"I still did it though." He held his hands out in front of him. "These are the hands that killed innocent people. This is the brain that felt no empathy or remorse."

"No." You firmly said. "Those are the hands that fought in Wakanda, for the good fight. This is the brain that comes up with the worst jokes I've ever heard and regularly forgets to buy toilet roll."

His blue eyes wavered from the floor, capturing your gaze. He suddenly fell back against you, wrapping his arms around your waist and burying his head in your chest. Everybody else went out their way to make him seem like a monster or a saint - but you? You just made him seem like a human. There wasn't a single perfect one of those. Steve Rogers probably came close, but he was a fucking terrible driver.

"I..." Bucky trailed off. He knew what he wanted to say. Just didn't have the courage to verbalise it. "I appreciate you."

"I know." You murmured, carding a hand through his hair.

Bucky had gone to therapy. He'd taken up exercise (and boxercise and jazzercise) and yoga. He'd tried those stupid fucking cleansing smoothies that his neighbour had sold him - at the time, he had yet been introduced to the idea of multilevel marketing schemes - and gone to meditation classes. None of it worked. Not for a single second.

Then you came in the picture, and he began to see colour etched into the edges of an otherwise black and white world. Where there had been nightmares and flashbacks, he'd found a peaceful night's sleep and pleasant dreams (normally of you, truth be told). The simplicity of it was what made it so complex - because he didn't understand it. Couldn't get his head around the fact that you actually, genuinely wanted to help him.

And he knew it wasn't just your touch or the softness of your skin against his. He'd tried it - sleeping with strangers and staying around the morning after to cuddle. Anything to find human contact with the emotion and the commitment; the very two components that were the secret ingredients to the two of you working so fucking nicely.

"Thank you." Bucky murmured.

"For what?"

"For just..." He glanced up at you, blue eyes holding an emotion you couldn't quite place, "treating me like everyone else. Like a normal person."

"You are a normal person." You softly smiled. "Maybe with a little more baggage, but to the right person, that won't matter."

"Does it matter to you?"

"That's a trap." You thinned your eyes at him. "But no, it doesn't."

He tightened his grip on you, the fear and anxiety draining from his soul. He knew now more than ever that the comfort didn't come from the way he was being held, or the way he was being spoken to. It was who was holding him, and who was speaking to him. You came out on top, every time.

That was why it worked.

It was you. And there was nothing he could do about it.

[youryanderedaddy]

Love Fuel

Summary: You were Jason’s first love before you broke his heart and rejected him. It’s all your fault that he can’t move on.

Tw: female reader, obsessive behavior, incel behavior, nice guy behavior, self - hatred, threats of non-con, implied non - con, implied masturbation, bullying based on appearance (not reader), deregatory language, kidnapping, misogyny, generalizations, stalking

this is a hot mess but its 1 am and i am tired, ik that incels are bad irl (obviously), but this is fiction and I kinda wanted to explore the dynamic and shit. 

Everyone used to call him JJ or The-Big-Jay back in high school. Well, most of the time his classmates weren’t really calling out to him or even talking to him, the names were whispered behind his back, after he had just passed the hallway, or on bad days - right to his face. The jocks, these dumb motherfuckers, would beat him up, mock him for whatever stupid reasons they had chosen to use as an excuse to torment the smaller and weaker. The popular girls would giggle like brainless bimbos as Kyle or Brad or any other football player stole his glasses or continuously punched him in the guts until he threw up all over the floor. Even the nerds, the kids at the bottom of the school hierarchy, messed with Jason from time to time when they wanted to feel the oh - so desired rush of power they so rarely managed to experience. 

Looking back, Jason could see why his classmates hated him so much - he was everything that society deemed as wrong and unattractive. He was thin, pale, “scrawny” as the others called him, on the shorter side, and on top of that the teen was terribly shy and introverted, never having the guts to stand up to his bullies or even tell someone about the abuse. The male spent most of his free time at home, playing hours upon hours of video games, watching anime and reading books he was simply too young to understand or look critically at. As he grew older, the man began to view the world as it trully was - a dark, miserable place that ate up sore losers like him. Men were primitive and foolish, which somehow managed to soften their faults. Women, on the other hand, were  calculative and manipulative, greedy and sinful. His whole life they had done nothing but reject him when he needed love and support the most. Of course, there were many other reason why the brunette detested the weaker sex. In his eyes women were evil two - faced sluts, showing off their bodies yet acting innocent and hurt once someone finally decided to use them for the only thing they were actually good for.

But you Jason hated the most. You reminded him that no matter how much he hated the outside world, he would always hate himself the most. He had to admit you were pretty, painfully so, with a perfect little body to match your looks and a sweet sugary smile that almost deceived him years ago. As much as the man regretted his weakness, he had fallen right into your trap at the time.

You weren’t the most popular girl, but you had your fair share of friends, all nice and loyal like puppies. You weren’t the smartest either, but unlike the other stupid giggling sluts you always tried to do your best. You were beautiful just like them but you were actually kind to the pathetic bullied kid no one else bothered to acknowledge even existed outside of being a punching bag. You always asked him whether he was alright and often took him to the infirmary when he looked paler and sicker than usual. You talked to him as if he was a normal human being and despite the initial doubt, Jason appreciated it. 

It was the last day of your senior year when the teen finally gained the courage to confess. He was shaking the whole time and by the end of his little speech there were small tears in the corner of his eye. You were the first girl the male cared about, the first one to show him kindness, to offer him friendship without asking for something in return. You were the only one who could make him feel deserving of love, worthy of affection. And then you took it all away in a matter of seconds.

“I am sorry, bud.” You had said that day after giving him a  half - hearted hug and an apologetic smile, that started to seem more and more like a mocking grin the longer the teen started at you. “I already have a boyfriend, but I am really flattered. I am sure that you will find a lovely girl once you start college.” You had added quickly, cheerfully, rubbing the salt all over his wounds, honey dripping from your plump red lips. He had wanted to kiss them, bruise them, bite them until your stupid lying mouth was filled with blood. Obviously you didn’t have a boyfriend or he would have known by now, he stalked your social media religiously after all. Even if you had one, he probably treated you like shit. And how could you even suggest him finding another woman? As if he wanted any of the stupid money - grabbing sluts out there. As if some of them could replace you.

The boy was too furious to form a proper response besides “Fuck you, bitch”. His cheeks turned red and he didn’t realise that the bitter words had escaped his lips before he could stop them, then his legs took him far away from that shithole of a school. He didn’t manage to see your reaction before running away but it didn’t matter anymore. You were just like the others. 

***

That day Jason swore to show you just how small and insignificant you had made him feel. He wanted to see you crumble, cry and beg for forgiveness, desperate for his love but never good enough to get it. The man formed a plan to change himself and come back for you once he had erased each and every trace of his past. The brunette came to terms with his terrible social anxiety and decided that he needed to gain social abilities more than anything. That’s why, as much as he dreamt of working from home as a boring programmer with an even more boring, but flexible working schelude, the male chose to study something that involved a lot more human interactions. The next step was to hit the gym for the first time and get a monthly subscription. It wasn’t hard to see that females nowadays liked brain - dead athletes with defined jawline and cheekbones, toned chests and strong muscled bodies, so if he wanted to impress you, he had to look his best. It wasn’t easy at first - it felt like everyone in the fitness salon had their eyes on his weak frame, laughing and pointing their fingers at his imperfections, but things gradually got better as time went on. The trainings became easier to get through and from time to time they even helped the man forget about his loneliness and nihilism. 

Jason soon returned to his old habbit of spending hours looking through your accounts - Facebook, Instagram, Twitter, he knew all of your usernames, each post, every picture and text. He couldn’t believe how much of a desperate attention whore you had become over the years. The male remembered you in your long brown skirts, cozy sweatshirts and pure-white shirts, all the gray buttons closed to the very top, blushing, laughing, smiling like the adorable Goody-two-shoes you were. Now you were smirking seductively in every photo, overconfident and vibrant, flaunting your tits for every man to see and wearing tight little dresses that barelly covered your ass combined with heels so high and sharp they could be used as a weapon. You were such a stupid slut it was disgusting, and he couldn’t stop himself from jerking off every single time he saw your pretty little face on the screen. He wanted to cum down your throat so badly it was ridiculous, and even after knowing that you had probably already had hundreds of cocks shoved deep inside your pussy, the brunette still wished to see you split open on his, taking his lenght like a good little cocksleeve. 

***

The moment when he could see you again finally came. How many years had passed since graduation - five, ten, fifthteen? It hardly mattered. Jason was successful, at last. The male had his own business that was doing surprisingly well, there were some guys from the gym he could call friends and the best thing, he looked absolutely unrecognizable. There was nothing left of the tiny scrawny kid with quiet voice that everyone stepped over, he was now replaced by a strong capable man, determined to get what was rightfully his and his alone.

It wasn’t hard to find you since the brunette knew everything about you - where your job was, what time you finished, how long it took you to go home and what path you took. You lived alone and worked as a barista in a small local cafe even now that you had finished your studies in your dream faculty. Turns out the princess wasn’t so great and smart after all, having to resort to working a minimal - wage job day and night just to be able to pay her rent. Jason was absolutely delighted though, he loved your stupid dead - end job and your endless struggles to survive in the materialistic world honestly and fairly without selling yourself like a common whore. On one hand the male was happy that you had clung onto your last bit of innocence and on the other your pitiful lifestyle gave him the chance to snatch you away much easier. And that’s exactly what he did.

 ***

You woke up confused just like he had expected, bombarding him with questions, asking him who he was was, begging him to let you go, to at least explain what’s happening. You were so dumb, but God, you were still so pretty, if not prettier than before. You cried so beautifully when Jason told you you belonged to him now and you cried even more when he slammed his cold rough lips over yours in a deep wet kiss. You whimpered and whined while the male sucked on your lower lip and bit down, good, he wanted it to hurt. The stalker couldn’t wait to be inside you, he couldn’t hold back anymore. 

He climbed on top of you and pinned your wrists to the floor before tying them up with delicate red rope and tightening it. It wasn’t like the man was scared of you slipping away and hurting him, you were too weak and tiny to stand a chance against his years of power - lifting and muscle - training anyways, he just wanted you to be as uncomfortable and squirmish as possible. Your tormentor wished for you to be in worse pain than he had been during his youthful years, and he knew exactly what to do. Next thing you knew Jason had ripped your dress apart, leaving you vulnerable and exposed in just your plain old panties and bra. Cold shivers ran down your spine when the chilly air hit your naked flesh and you finally realized there wasn’t getting away from this. You had to stay there, limbs bound together, unable to move or fight back, the stranger’s hands caressing your neck before moving dangerously close to your clothed breasts. You felt so sick you were going to throw up for sure if your abductor didn’t step back so you decided to use your last resort.

“Jason, please stop!” You screamed out of the blue, forcing the brunette to freeze instantly at the use of his birth name. You had already called him a pervert and a psycho which didn’t seem to faze him, but the name clearly caught him off guard. This only seemed to prove your theory further - the man really was your former classmate, despite the only similarity between them being the dark distant look in his eyes. “I beg you, don’t hurt me!” You continued, hoping to at least buy yourself more time before the assault took place. 

He gulped loudly and stared at your quivering form. The impossible had happened, you had recognized him and now together with fear, there was also pity in your gaze, the one emotion your captor absolutely despised. You used to be the only one who pitied him, and even now that he was bigger, better and stronger than before, you still had the guts to pity him. It drove him insane but any attempt to hurt or touch you was fruitless now - your soft skin was suddenly burning his fingers like hellfire. 

“You must be thinking that I am a monster.” Jason started out dryly, chuckling bitterly, humorlessly even. He clenched his fists unconsciously and brought them to the floor in a fit of rage, missing your head by mere inches. Your heart was beating like crazy and you only hoped the mandman couldn’t hear it. “A freak.” The man spat out the word like it was a curse and for a split second his eyes softened before turning into two spinning torches. “Right?” You were sure that if looks could kill, his would have you dead by the end of the night so you quickly nodded your head no.

“You are lying to me again, pretty girl.” The brunette replied feisty, "pretty” rolling off his tongue like an insult. Then he broke into hoarse maniac laugher and lowered his head so his face leveled up with yours, so close you could feel his warm breath on your tear - stained cheek. “When I am done with you, you wouldn’t be so pretty anymore, darling.” Your captor growled and attacked your neck, sinking his teeth deep into the flesh. “You will see exaclty how ugly my love is.”

[bestworstcase]

In what way is Rapunzel’s mindset when it comes to criminals more black and white and morally stunted?

than cassandra’s?

cass splits the difference between understanding that past behavior is a good predictor of present behavior whilst also 1. not caring about The Law for its own sake and 2. not treating people with criminal backgrounds like they’re somehow a different or lesser category of human from everyone else. e.g., she’s initially suspicious of lance for the same reasons eugene is—because he acts exactly like an unrepentant thief casing the palace would act (including trying to pocket valuables right in front of her!)—but the instant lance decides hey i’m not gonna steal anymore cass just. accepts that and never has a single problem with lance ever again. likewise she gets along fine with the pub thugs and fits right in with the vardarans. the criminals she has problems with are exclusively the ones Actively Causing Problems for her or people she cares about.

(cassandra is also. you know. a criminal herself gkgjfjdhkg she commits treason in before ever after!)

rapunzel on the other hand has. a very egocentric model of morality—which is natural and understandable given the isolation in which she was raised and the egotistical abuser who raised her. it’s “things that i don’t like: Bad; things i do like: Good,” with a side helping of the only type of interpersonal conflict rapunzel has ANY exposure to before she turns 18 is gothel’s adversarial and narcissistic zero sum approach where someone is always 100% right and the other person has to be 100% wrong and the person who is right is always the one who cries the loudest about their feelings being hurt.

i think this is most obvious with how rapunzel reacts to varian in TAR—she’s shocked and horrified when he says he only cares about saving his dad, she treats the victimless crime of stealing a dead flower of solely sentimental value as a Morally Heinous Act and is more concerned about the fact that varian “tricked her” into stealing it (when what actually happened is more or less he went “hey i need the flower to save my dad” and she went “NO STEALING IS WRONG?!” so he tried to mollify her by hedging about how much of it he needed—the fact that his dad was encased in a block of magical amber at the time didn’t even register to her as a justifiable reason to steal something no one was using anyway).

but at the same time when a year later he demonstrates an inkling of regret and desire to be friends again she welcomes him back into the fold with zero hesitation, bc she has an underlying mindset of “nice to me = good” that makes it very easy for her to forgive people who treat her, well, nicely. which is a double-edged sword because it can make her very compassionate and willing to give second chances—valuable traits for a leader!—but it also makes her easy to take advantage of—think sugracha, tromus, or even the much less dire situation of lance taking advantage of her hospitality and willingness to turn a blind eye to obvious red flags on the grounds of lance being Charming and Eugene’s Friend.

(in a similar vein: rapunzel won’t hear a word against the pub thugs, who are *bandits,* because they have nice hobbies that she appreciates and they have a soft spot for her, in contrast to cassandra who can both acknowledge that the pub thugs are…bandits whilst still treating them the same as she treats any other person.)

all this gets muddied further by tts’ inability/refusal to deal with things like…the separatists or caine, whose crimes mostly amount to Rebelling Against The Monarchy That Fucked Us Over, which because raps ends up *in charge* of corona at the end of the series but makes zero effort to even open a conversation with caine or andrew regarding how she can alleviate their problems or make reparations for the shit her kingdom did to them, ends up creating the implication that rapunzel is only invested in reforming criminals who are willing to be buddy-buddy with her. i don’t think that implication is *intended* but it’s a valid reading of the text nonetheless.

(the very plot driven writing is also a factor here—rapunzel jumps to the conclusion that varian is evil in part because the narrative *needs* her to think he’s evil, and that’s also why neither eugene nor cass challenges her on that conclusion despite the whole… they know his dad is trapped and he’s being hunted by frederic’s secret police thing. to an extent we’ve got to rely on some of the lower stakes examples like one angry princess or the vardaros arc or how cass despite wanting to be a guard isn’t particularly interested in catching the strikers in BBOC whereas rapunzel is thinking up traps and lance and eugene have a whole elaborate investigation, etc, to get a sense of like, the baseline of their characters when not being smushed around like play-doh to fit the needs of the overarching plot.)

and for fanworks at least it’s an implication i like to take seriously as, like, a starting point for rapunzel’s basic mindset, bc it’s something she can *grow out of* through time and experience and being challenged on it by characters who are allowed to challenge her because i don’t have disney executives breathing down my neck about Not Criticizing The Monarchy In A Disney Princess Show.

ETA: this isn’t to say that cass is More Moral than rapunzel—rapunzel has a very strong (and black and white) moral code whereas i think cass is pretty amoral in general—just that *because* cass is amoral and indifferent about lawbreaking unless it’s personally relevant to herself she ends up being both more realistic and more reasonable towards people with criminal pasts (or presents) than rapunzel is

[invisibleanonymousmonsters]

no grave can hold my body down – 2/2

Character: Jason Todd x Fem!Reader

Summary: It took time to get Jason Todd away from the darkness. Sometimes it felt like he was always standing at a tipping point, at risk of completely losing himself. But not when he was with her. She made him better and she would continue to make him better.

Word Count: 9,000

A/N: I know there are a lot of contradicting opinions on Jason Todd’s height. But for my own wish fulfillment, he is 6′3/6′4ish in this fic. 

Part 1

Y/N had fallen asleep after getting home from work. She had a long day and was so exhausted that she passed out as soon as she sat down on the couch. Jason had to take off her heels and drape a blanket over her.

Now he was dressed in his armored undershirt, cargo pants, leather jacket, and tactical boots. His red helmet was tucked under his arm, but he was already wearing a domino mask. If Bruce had taught him anything, it was to be prepared to a point of paranoia.

He crouched down to his knees.

Ever so gently, he brushed Y/N’s cheek.

“Y/N,” he whispered.

She stirred and winced a bit when she opened her eyes, the glare of the quiet television was suddenly harsh.

“What’s going on?” She asked, still half asleep.

“Nothing. Go back to sleep. I just wanted to tell you I’m leaving to go on patrol.”

“Mhmm. OK.” She hummed. “Be careful, J.”

If Y/N ever found out how un-careful the Red Hood was, she would never sleep and she’d probably beg Jason to quit his vigilantism.

“I love you,” he told her before kissing her on the forehead.

“Love you, too,” she said back so dreamily that it sounded like she was talking in her sleep.

Jason slipped out of the window. He purposely chose this apartment due to the direction the windows faced, the distance from approximate apartments, and the darkness that would prevent any wandering eyes from the neighbors.

He’d been patrolling for a few hours. It was oddly a quiet night. He assumed it had to do with how cold it was outside. Sometimes criminals were weak in the most obvious ways.

Jason was standing on a rooftop, taking a breather when he felt someone drop behind him. He knew his family all too well and could differentiate all of their footsteps. Which was why he didn’t immediately shoot Dick when he thought he’d try and surprise him.

“So, Y/N was quite the hit…” Dick said without giving Jason a proper greeting first.

“What are you still doing in town?” Jason answered.

Dick sighed. “B still needs a little help on the case.”

Jason nodded, not actually caring why Dick was still in Gotham. 

Then an awkward silence washed over them. Well, Dick thought it was awkward. Jason couldn’t care less. 

“Why won’t you talk about her with us?” Dick’s teasing was gone and his tone serious now.

Jason turned his head away from the city view and finally acknowledged his brother. “You don’t need to know anything about her,” his helmet distorted his words to make them sound even harsher than they already were.

“Doesn’t seem like she completely shares that view.”

Jason didn’t respond. He didn’t appreciate Dick speaking on Y/N’s behalf.

“Bruce seems to like her,” Dick added.

Jason’s head snapped to him. “As if I give a fuck,” he snapped.

Dick had the audacity to laugh. “How did the two of you meet anyway? She was living in New York City when the two of you first met, right?”

“Jesus,” Jason growled. “Did all of you run a background check on her?”

Dick shrugged. “What did you expect?”

————

Y/N didn’t have any idea where she was going. With the sun having already set, she couldn’t even figure out what direction she was headed.

But she had typed the address to her hotel into the Uber app and trusted it from there. She was also too preoccupied still answering the dozens of work emails on her phone.

“Hey lady, we’re here,” the driver said rudely after she didn’t realize they had stopped.

“Oh, sorry!” She said, writing the last few words of a sentence before pressing send.

She jumped out of the car and yelled a thanks before slamming the door shut.

To her surprise, the car raced off without a second’s hesitation.

But when Y/N turned around, she realized she was definitely not in the right place. And for the first time throughout the drive, she realized she was definitely in a bad area.

Y/N heard all of the terrible things about Gotham. Sometimes she wondered if the things about all of the crime were exaggerated by the news or if the city was really rotting from the inside like everyone said. What she definitely didn’t believe in was all the vigilantes that seemed to be protecting the city. No one could ever offer up any proof, even with every single human having a video camera in their hands at all times.

But now she wishing she’d taken people’s warnings a little bit more seriously.

This was definitely not Gotham Heights, where her nice hotel was located.

“Fuck,” she muttered as she whipped out her phone and instantly tried to call another Uber. But the app was being finicky and she was getting a loading screen for far too long.

Then she heard a group of men whistle at her. The streets were filled with literal dumpster fires. There were countless inoperable cars with broken windshields and without wheels. The only women she spotted looked like they were working the streets.

‘Walk, Y/N. Just walk. Act like you know where you’re going.’ Her brain was screaming at her.

So she did while remaining on high alert.

No matter how much she pretended to blend in, she was obviously out of place and sticking out like a sore thumb.

Her heart was racing and she tried to walk as fast as she could without fully running. She just hoped to get to a main street soon and try to catch a yellow cab, since apparently all her car-service apps decided not to work.

But suddenly, a man stepped onto the sidewalk, blocking Y/N’s path forward.

“You lost, sweetheart?” He cooed.

Y/N stopped and started backing away. But when she turned around, she saw that two men were waiting behind her.

“No need to be scared,” the same men said behind her, closer this time. “We just want to talk.”

‘Fuck this,’ Y/N thought before she decided to make a run for it.

But one of them grabbed her and shoved her to the side, pushing her into the alleyway she hadn’t realized they were right next to.

It was so dark that she could hardly make out the silhouettes of her attackers. But that wasn’t going to stop her from fighting. She immediately tried to shove past anyone in her vicinity and hit whoever was grabbing her.

“Get the fuck away from me!” She screamed, hoping that there was someone in this poisoned city that would try and help her.

Except she was outnumbered by three men, which ended in her getting shoved up the brick wall that lined the alley.

“I don’t have any money,” she gasped as a last ditch effort to save herself.

“Who said we wanted your money?” One of them chuckled darkly.

Before their words could hearten Y/N to try another defensive attack and escape, there was a strange zipping sound that echoed down into the alley.

Next thing Y/N knew, the man that was pressed up against her and pinning her to wall was flung off.

Y/N gasped and tried to get her eyes to adjust to the darkness enough so she could actually see what the hell was happening.

“It’s the hood!” One of the men yelled to his friends before making a run for it.

Then a gun was fired off – two shots.

Y/N yelped at the noise and covered her ears.

But when she looked back up, the man who had tried to escape was now on the ground, screaming in pain as he looked down at both of his knee caps that had been shot.

When Y/N turned her attention to the other two men, she finally saw who had interrupted their assault.

It was a man – if that was even what he was – dressed in military gear of some sort. But what really caught her attention was the red helmet that was reflecting the night light and allowing her to actually follow what was happening.

Y/N watched as he punched the daylights out of one of her attackers. She saw the man’s face get more and more covered with blood with each punch.

If Y/N was scared before, she was now terrified.

Without hesitating any longer, she too made a run for it, hoping she wouldn’t be shot like the other runaway.

She sprinted around the corner. But she only got a few yards before the same behemoth landed in front of her.

He was tall, and had to be at least 6’3. Men were confusingly short in New York, so Y/N was still trying to wrap her mind around having to tilt her head slightly up. But then she realized it wasn’t even his height that was jarring; it was how utterly hulking he was. His shoulders were so wide and his chest was massive. His thighs seemed to be the same width has her entire torso.

Everything about him was intimidating and imposing.

“I gotta give you credit for being that fast while wearing heels,” he said to her as he glanced down at her shoes.

It wasn’t exactly comforting that his voice seemed to also be distorted by the helmet.

Y/N was frozen in fear, truly not knowing what he was capable of or even what he wanted.

“You can relax. I’m not gonna hurt you,” he told her with his hands raised. His guns were no longer in his grip, but in their holsters at his thighs.

“You just killed three men,” Y/N told him with a shaky voice as she took a step back.

“I didn’t kill them. But if you want me to, I’d be happy to go back there and finish the job.”

“What? No!” Y/N cried out.

He had the audacity to chuckle at her reaction.

“Where exactly did you think you were going?” He asked her.

“This whole damsel-in-distress thing is new for me. But I thought it made sense to run away from the guy who was shooting people,” she told him quickly.

Jason was grateful that his mask hid all his emotions and facial expressions, because he was smiling at her sass.

He looked her up and down, taking in her outfit and just her overall look. “You’re not from around here, are you?”

“What gave me away?”

He shrugged, ignoring the question. “What the hell are you doing in The Bowery? This is the most dangerous neighborhood in Gotham.”

“My Uber dropped me off here. I thought I was at my hotel and by the time I figured out I wasn’t, my driver had already sped away and left me for dead.”

He took a step toward her. “What’s a gal like you doing in Gotham?”

“I work for an art gallery in New York. But there was an event that I had to attend. I’ve been here all weekend.” 

Why was she telling him any of this?

Jason nodded in understanding. “Come on,” he told her.

“W-What?” She asked nervously.

“You’re not gonna get a car in this area. You should report the driver who brought you here in the first place. He knew better.”

He walked past her.

Y/N looked around her, trying to figure out if she even had any other option. She knew he was right about a car, which was probably why she’d gotten a loading screen for all of them when it realized her location.

Yes, he was technically a masked criminal. But he did just save her life, no matter how terrifying it was to watch.

Y/N decided she didn’t have much of a choice.

Before she could move, a motorcycle was being pulled up alongside her.

Y/N eyed it for a moment.

“What’s your name?” She asked him, as if it would make the situation any safer.

“Red Hood,” he told her.

Y/N nodded, not surprised that it didn’t make her feel any better. She realized she was in no position to ask for his real identity. She knew enough about vigilantes to understand that they only survived from hiding their true selves from the criminals they fought and the law enforcement who thought what they were doing was wrong.

“Where are you staying?” He asked her.

“Crest Hill Hotel,” she told him.

“Fancy,” he teased. “Hop on.”

Y/N hesitated before following his instructions. She sat awkwardly on the back of the motorcycle, unsure of what to do.

“You’re gonna want to hold on, beautiful.” He told her over his shoulder as he revved the engine.

Y/N tried to ignore the heat that rushed to her face as he called her ‘beautiful,’ and then she tried to ignore how wide and strong his torso felt as she reached to hold on.

It took 20 minutes to get to her hotel, proving that the Uber driver really hadn’t given a crap about how incorrect her original address had been.

Jason had decided to drop her off in the back entrance to avoid a scene of the infamous Red Hood dropping off an average citizen. He didn’t need that type of attention and Y/N shouldn’t be tied to him in any way.

Y/N got off the motorcycle with a surprising grace and turned to him.

“Thank you for…saving me,” she told him gently.

“It was nothing,” he told her.

Y/N just watched him for a moment, wondering what he looked like under that red helmet and without all the armor.

“What’s your name?” He surprised her by asking.

“Y/N. Y/F/N Y/L/N.” 

She didn’t know why she felt comfortable giving her surname. But it just came out.

“Nice to meet you, Y/N. Though, I wish it had been under better circumstances.”

Y/N suddenly dug into her purse, making sure she still had her phone and even just the key to her hotel room.

“Fuck,” she muttered without realizing it.

“What is it?” Jason asked.

“Nothing. I just…it sounds stupid, but I have a little notebook to write down ideas for – well, for my artwork. But it must’ve fallen out back in that alleyway when those guys shoved me against the wall.”

When she looked up at him, it was impossible to know what he was thinking.

“Anyways, thank you again.” She turned to finally walk away.

“Y/N?”

She shouldn’t love how much she loved the sound of him saying her name.

Y/N turned around.

“Stay close to the hotel. Gotham is different than New York City.”

She nodded.

————————

“So, when did you see her again?” Dick questioned after he listened to Jason’s retelling.

“I was helping out a friend with a job in NYC. Things got ugly. I may or may not have been shot when I showed up at her window. Her apartment was in the area and I needed a place to lay low.”

Dick laughed. “Uh huh. Sure you did.”

Jason ignored him. “Anyways, I’d gone back to the alley that night and found that notebook she was talking about, and gave it to her to make up for bleeding all over her couch.”

“Always the romantic,” Dick teased.

Their conversation came to a halt. Instead of talking, they both listened to the city noises that Gotham brought.  

“Listen, Jason, I know I did a poor job of being there for you and actually acting like a brother. And I also know you haven’t always been my biggest fan.”

Jason stayed quiet.

“But you deserve to be happy. And we both know Y/N does that.” Dick sighed. “But you don’t talk about her with us and you kept her from even just meeting us after years of you two dating. If we weren’t all noisy and paranoid, we wouldn’t know a thing about her.”  

“What’s your point, Dick?” Jason asked roughly.

“No one ever wants to acknowledge this, especially you…but you’re more like Bruce than any of us. And you’ve seen how he pushes people away, keeping them at a distance. Y/N wants to be a part of your life, your whole life. And that includes all of us – whether you like it or not. So, what I’m saying is you don’t have to hide her from us.”

Dick knew not to expect a response from Jason. So he left him where he found him and gave him his space once again.

Jason didn’t have anything to say anyway. 

Dick’s words made him angry more than anything. Because he knew they were true. Yes, he saw how Bruce behaved with women. It was promiscuous and casual, because anything else was too close for comfort. Bruce’s priority would always be Batman. And Bruce knew that no significant other deserved his lack of commitment – no matter how much they might love each other.

—————

Y/N was doing her nightly routine and applying moisturizer to her face when she heard it. She could be acting paranoid, but her instincts were telling her something was off. 

No, someone was here.

Jason made a point of being loud and immediately announcing when he got home as to not scare her. So, it couldn’t be him.

As quietly as possible, Y/N tiptoed out of the bathroom and to her side of the bed where she kept a titanium baseball bat. Jason had offered her multiple times to teach her how to shoot a gun. But Y/N wanted nothing to do with them.

With the bat in hand, Y/N snuck her way to the living room where she heard the sound.

She had turned off all the lights, making it hard for her to see clearly.

But she did see a large mass standing in the middle of her living room. With just a bit of hesitation, Y/N swung the bat. But the intruder caught the bat, stopping her attack.

They stepped into the moonlight, finally allowing Y/N to see that it was Batman in his full uniform, cowl still on.

“What the fuck. Are you trying to give me a heart attack?” Y/N snapped at him.

“I apologize. I didn’t mean to startle you,” Bruce defended.

But Y/N was still irritated. “Jason isn’t here.”

“I know. I came to talk to you.”

She froze. “Me?”

“I need a favor.”

Y/N narrowed her gaze. “I highly doubt I could do anything to help you.”

“You’re wrong. This has to do with your job. You work at The Drago House.”

Y/N tilted her head and crossed her arms. “Yes.”

“It’s owned by the Ibanescu family. They use it as a front for human trafficking.”

Y/N shook her head. “That can’t be possible…”

“Don’t underestimate the crime families of Gotham, Y/N.”

“So, why do you need me?”

“There are files and codecs that would decipher who their buyers are and where they hold auctions around the world. Nothings digital. They’re old school. With that information, we could shut done their operation forever.”

Y/N’s face was serious now. “What do you need me to do?”

“You have always had access to all the information. You just never knew it. All I need is for you to scan the files.”

She now looked at him suspiciously. “Don’t they say you're the world’s greatest detective? I find it hard to believe that you’d have problems breaking into the gallery after hours to get them for yourself…”

“It’s only completely lockdown as soon as it closes every night. Their security system is high-end and resets every 24 hours. Could we get into it eventually? Yes. But we’ve already been at it for weeks. And we’ve received word that there’s a big…” He hesitated. “…shipment happening any day. We don’t have time to waste.”

Y/N thought about what he was telling her.

“Why didn’t you go to Jason?” She finally asked.

“You said Jason doesn’t tell you what to do.”

Y/N glared at him for using her own words against her.

The apartment went quiet again.

Then Y/N nodded slowly. “There’s an opening tomorrow night. I can get them then.”

—————

Dick’s words haunted Jason for the rest of the night. He wanted to cut patrolling early and just get back to Y/N.

Now he swiftly moved into his apartment from the fire escape and immediately took off his helmet and domino mask underneath.

But Jason froze when he saw Y/N’s bat in the middle of the living room.

His heart raced at the immediate assumption that something happened to her. The furniture was untouched and there were no other signs of trouble, but he still rushed towards the bedroom anyway.

“Y/N?” He called out, despite it being nearly 4AM.

He let out a sigh of relief when he found Y/N slowly waking up from their bed.

“J?” She murmured, half asleep.

“Y/N, why is the bat in the living room?” Jason asked as he rubbed his face and then sat on the edge of the bed near her. Without even thinking, he cupped her cheek.

She rubbed her eyes, trying to wake up more. “I thought I heard something and freaked myself out. But it was nothing.”

“Y/N, how many times do I have to tell you? Call me when shit like that happens.”

“But it was nothing,” she repeated. “What?” She added with a sigh when he was giving her that disapproving look.

“I don’t care if it ends up being nothing. If you’re scared, then I’m going to be here. OK?” Then he finalized his point with a quick kiss to her lips.

She nodded. “OK.”

Then she looked him up and down, realizing that he was still completely in his Red Hood gear, only without his helmet.

“You OK?” She asked in a whisper. Her eyes already scanning his body for any obvious injuries.

“I’m fine,” Jason sighed. “I was just worried about you when I saw the bat. I thought something…”

Y/N quickly sat up in bed. “Hey, hey, hey. I’m fine. I’m OK. I was just being paranoid. I should’ve put the bat back. I’m sorry.”  

A comfortable and reassuring silence settled between them.

“Why don’t you take a shower and come to bed?” Y/N offered softly.

Jason nodded and kissed her again.

As soon as he was out of the room, Y/N ran a hand over her face. 

She hated lying to Jason. He didn’t deserve it. But she also knew he wouldn’t let her anywhere near an operation that Bruce was trying to pull off. This had to be the same thing that Tim had pulled Jason aside for at the gala.

But Bruce made one thing clear: he needed her help. And he wouldn’t do so if he wasn’t desperate.

———————-

The next night, Y/N couldn’t stop sweating and her heart rate was out of control. She tried to act like this was just another day of work, greeting customers, explaining the pieces, and answering questions.

But the need to get into the back offices when everyone else was gone would not stop nagging her.

With shaky hands, she tapped her ID on the scanner. Usually at this point in an event, all of her colleagues were either on the floor or had called it the end of their work day and headed home.

By some miracle, that was exactly the case.

Y/N locked the door behind her, never having seen a purpose for doing so any other day of working at the gallery.

“OK. OK. OK. Breathe,” she muttered to herself as her eyes scanned the room.

She knew where all the files were in the room. And Bruce had given her the keys to knowing what to look for. Now it was just a matter of putting the two together.

Y/N instantly went to work and started shuffling through papers, finding what was needed.

Bruce had given her a special pen that would scan every file within a second no matter what angle it was pointed at, so Y/N wouldn’t have any suspicious photos on her cellphone.

Y/N was almost done, covered in sweat and with shaking hands, when the door started jiggling.

She swore her heart was about to burst out of her chest.

With pure adrenaline, Y/N quickly put back the files that were in her hand.

But the person on the other side of the door was clearly getting impatient quickly and continued to mess with the doorknob.

Y/N jumped when it was finally kicked open. She whipped around to stare at a man who was nearly the size of Jason, but looked far deadlier. She’d never seen him at the gallery before, which meant he was definitely part of Ibanescu’s gang.

“Can I help you?” She snapped rudely, trying to use her authority to hide her fear.

“What are you doing in here?” He accused.

“I work here. Who the hell are you?”

He ignored her question. “Why was the door locked?”

“You still haven’t told me who you are,” Y/N shot back.

And with that, she straightened her posture and started walking past him. But this man wasn’t as stupid as he looked. Just as she thought she’d slipped away, the man grabbed her by the arm.

“Excuse me,” Y/N hissed.

But he ignored her and started dragging her into the back storage area of the gallery and further away from the crowd.

Y/N tried to rip her arm from his grasp but his grip was vice-like and didn’t even seem fazed by her efforts to escape.

This was not good.

While Y/N was still hopeful that she could possibly talk her way out, she was also realistic. 

Which is why she hit a button on her watch.

Jason had gifted it to her very early on in their relationship. It was a classic chronograph watch. But he had installed a panic button onto it.

“If something ever happens – even if you think you’re being overly cautious – you push this and it will send out a signal that I can track. I’ll be there before you know it.” That’s what he had told her when he gifted it, and she’d worn it every day since.

A few seconds later, Y/N was being shoved through the door that led to the back alley.

There was a group of men, just as large and intimidating as the one who still had a grip on her arm.

It was pouring rain and freezing outside. But the slight overhand of the building into the alley protected them slightly.

“What the fuck is this?” One of them asked.

“I found her snooping around in the offices,” he announced.

“I’m one of the directors of this gallery!” Y/N bit back. “I was checking the price points on pieces for a potential customer.”

“The door was locked,” the man added.

They all seemed to be looking at each other.

Y/N was frozen, trying to wait for the perfect moment to make a run for it.

But then she saw one of the men, who appeared to be in charge, eye the pen that was clipped to the pocket of her pants. She prayed that he was too stupid to think it was anything more than just a writing utensil.

But then he slowly walked up to her. He grabbed the pen from her pocket and inspected it.

Y/N swore time froze. She couldn’t hear anything. She couldn’t feel the tight grip on her arm that was surely going to bruise her.

Then the man’s gaze shifted from the pen to her eyes.

“Get her in the car,” he told the group.

Y/N’s heart dropped.

Without hesitating, she immediately started to fight the man holding her. With a swift motion, she kneed him hard in the groin, making him let out a growl and keel over. But he dropped his grip on her arm.

Despite wearing heels, she made a run for it. She didn’t get far, but she got far enough into the rain that she was already drenched.

Another man grabbed her, shoving her against the building and clenching her throat to a point of suffocation.

“You stupid bitch,” her original captor spat as he backhanded her across the face.

Y/N blinked as a ringing started in her ears and her face stung with pain.

“Get her in the car before you make a fuckin’ scene,” the leader warned.

But before they could respond to the command, the street lights went out, causing a surge of darkness to blind all of them.

Y/N tried to step away from her attackers as her eyes adjusted to the darkness. But she couldn’t see a damn thing. The pouring rain was only making it more impossible.

It wasn’t until one of the men cried out in pain and guns started firing that she could see anything. Except it was too fast for her to make out a clear picture. Every so often, a lightning strike or a muzzle flash would give her a short glimpse.

Lo and behold, Batman was taking out the men one by one. But every time Y/N’s eyes focused on his tall silhouette, he’d disappear. She couldn’t keep track of his movements. And apparently neither could any of Ibanescu’s men.

“Shoot the girl!” One of the men yelled.

Y/N’s eyes widened when two of the men turned their guns on her.

But just before they fired off their rounds, a small force tackled her to the side and behind the safety of a giant dumpster.

Y/N looked up to see a young boy shielding her with his own body.

Damian. 

Things were so chaotic that she hadn’t even registered he was there, too.

Before she could say anything to him, there was another presence that dropped down beside her. The next second, she was being grabbed and pulled into the sky.

From the feel of his arms alone, Y/N immediately recognized it as Jason.

His grappling gun had brought them to the roof of the building.

Once their feet were grounded onto the roof, Jason barely stepped away and grabbed her shoulders.

Y/N couldn’t read his face from his helmet. But the subtle movements of his head made it clear that he was scanning her body to see if she’d been hit. It only took a few seconds to be convinced that she was clear.

Then he was grasping her face. “Stay here,” he told her before he used his grappling gun to vault back down into the alleyway.

Y/N ran to the edge of the room to look down.

When Jason returned to the fight below, he was ruthless.

Damian had seen the Red Hood with a vengeance many a time. But this… this was something different.

No bone was left unbroken.

Jason wasn’t just neutralizing these men…he was out for blood and pain.

The leader of the little gang was on his knees, covered in his own blood, when he looked up at Jason, who had a gun pointed just centimeters from his head.

“Red Hood, no!” Bruce growled as he threw a batarang, knocking Jason’s gun away from its almost-victim.

Jason whipped his head around. “They were going to kill her!”

“I wasn’t going to let that happen,” Bruce countered.

While they talked, Damian knocked out the man Jason almost murdered. By now, all of them were knocked unconscious or so injured that they couldn’t even open their eyes.

Jason’s entire body froze, realizing what had really happened. Bruce and Damian didn’t just happen to be there to save his girlfriend. This was their doing. They were the ones who had put her in this dangerous situation to begin with.

“What the fuck did you do?” Jason thundered.

Just as a flash of lightening struck, he turned to face Bruce, finding his new prey.  

“She had an in and I asked her to use it,” Bruce explained evenly. “She agreed.”

“Of course she fucking agreed!” Jason yelled over the rain. “She’d never say no to helping! And you knew that, and you took advantage of it!”

Then he raised his gun, pointing it at Bruce.

“Put the gun down, Red Hood.”

“Fuck you,” Jason hissed.

The next thing Y/N knew, Jason shot a bullet towards Bruce, causing her to let out a yell from above. In her heart she knew he hadn’t aimed to kill, but Bruce dodged the shot anyway.

Now the two men were fully fighting each other. Bruce seemed to be pulling his punches and just trying to remain on the defense. But Jason wanted revenge. Yes, Bruce and him had a dark history. But putting Y/N in danger erupted something inside Jason that made him see red in a way he never had before.

Just as Y/N was going to call out for Jason to stop, she heard someone drop beside her on the roof.

Dick stood a few feet away, standing tall in his Nightwing uniform.

“Dick, do something!” She begged.

“I can stop Bats, but I can’t stop him,” he told her.

“Then get me the fuck down there! Use your zip-line thingy!”

“Zip-line thingy?” Dick repeated, clearly offended. “This is a grappling–”

“Dick!” Y/N cut him off.

“Right, sorry.” He grabbed her, held her body tight to him, and lowered them down back to the alley.

When Y/N looked up, Bruce was on his knees, trying to catch his breath.

But Jason wasn’t done with him.

“You made it clear that you don’t give a shit about me. But putting the one person I love in danger just for you to solve a case? You’ve reached a new low,” Jason yelled as he slowly started to walk towards Bruce.

But before Jason could reach him, Y/N blocked his path.

She was soaking wet and shivering from both the cold rain and the shock.

Jason could already see the bruises covering her neck and face. He also didn’t miss the small line of blood that had trickled down her nose.

“Jason,” she whimpered. “That’s enough.”

He froze.

Y/N walked to him. “Please, just take me home,” she whispered.

Just seeing her made Jason’s entire body relax. But he was also reminded that she was the priority, not Bruce.

Noticing her shivering, he took off his leather jacket and wrapped it around her shoulders.

Bruce, Dick, and Damian were barely able to see the short, loving moment before Jason flung a smoke capsule onto the ground, covering him and Y/N as he brought her into his arms.

By the time the smoke disappeared, Jason and Y/N were gone.

—————-

When Jason and Y/N got back to their apartment, Jason when into autopilot mode of nursing Y/N. He pulled her into their bathroom and immediately started helping her out of her wet clothes. Y/N couldn’t stop shaking, and he noticed.

Jason only left her side for the split moment when he turned to start the shower, making sure to make it extra hot.

Then he was right back at her side, taking off his uniform and matching her nudity.

When he gently tugged her into their abnormally large shower, there was nothing sexual about it.

Now that Y/N’s skin was bare to him, he looked at all the injuries she had.

There were a few scrapes that would heal in a week or so. But Jason’s gaze went dark every time they lingered on the bruises across her throat, face, and bicep. He should’ve killed all of those bastards.

Y/N leaned into Jason’s chest. “I’m sorry,” she muttered. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

Because she knew that’s what this was. Jason wasn’t mad at her – at least, not yet. That could very much come later. But no, right now, he was scared. He put so much energy into keeping Y/N away from his other life, only for her to be thrown right into the center of it. And it wasn’t even his doing; it was Bruce’s.

“I know,” he bent down to whisper in her ear as he wrapped his arms around her.

Y/N didn’t know how long they stayed in the shower. But eventually Jason turned off the water and wrapped Y/N around in a fluffy white towel. She looked so young and innocent.

He moved her to their bedroom and sat her down on the edge of the bed.

Y/N watched him as he moved about the room, getting each of them clothes – all from his own closet.

“Are you hungry?” He asked her carefully as he handed her a pair of his sweatpants and one of his hoodies.

She shook her head.

Jason wasn’t surprised. One of the side effects of trauma and shock was a loss of appetite. But he made her drink a huge glass of water before he let her get in bed. And he made a mental note to make a big breakfast tomorrow when her body recovered and realized how starving it was.

When they were both finally under the covers, Jason didn’t hesitate to pull Y/N completely in his arms, smothering her with his giant frame. She welcomed his touch and warmth, burying her face into his chest.

Neither of them knew who needed this closeness more.

Tonight had been scary. Y/N knew Jason’s anger was bound to show up at some point. But right now, both of them were just grateful they were okay.

————————-

To Y/N’s surprise, she woke up in bed alone.

But her concern didn’t last long as she heard Jason moving around in the kitchen and she could hear soft music was playing if she listened hard enough.

When Y/N moved to get out of bed, she felt all the soreness that came from being grabbed and thrown around like she was last night. She winced, but it wasn’t anything she couldn’t handle. But she made a mental note to hide any signs that she was in pain from Jason.

Over their time together, Y/N and Jason got disturbingly good at reading one another. So, when Y/N walked into the kitchen to find Jason making breakfast, she immediately sensed things were not good. It wasn’t the cooking that tipped her off. His naked back was to her and she could somehow see the tension in his shoulders – in his whole body.

Y/N knows he heard her as soon as she walked into the kitchen.

“There’s coffee,” he says without turning around from the stove. He’s making pancakes. Chocolate chip pancakes, to be precise.

Y/N pours herself some coffee and sits at the table, watching him.

A few minutes pass before she’s had enough of the tension.

“If you’re gonna yell at me, then yell at me,” she told him.

Jason froze for a moment, but then quickly looked at her over his shoulder. “When have I ever yelled at you?”

He had a point.

Yes, Jason was once filled with only rage. There was a reason some feared Red Hood more than the Batman. He was ruthless. Fueled by vengeance, his temper, and his disappointment in the evil that plagued the world. He fought his enemies, but he also fought with his friends and family.

But Jason Todd was none of those things with Y/N. He never lost his temper with her. He never projected his rage and hardships from what he saw as Red Hood onto her. He’d never even raised his voice with her.

“I know,” Y/N admitted. “But I also know you’re still angry.”

Jason sighed, turning off the stove and bringing a giant plate of pancakes to the table.

But Y/N couldn’t eat while having this discussion.

Jason leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“You wouldn’t have let me do it,” Y/N countered.

“Yeah, and for good reason.”

“He used you, Y/N.” Jason tried to explain. “You’re untrained… with no exposure to this world. He knew not to involve you and he went behind my back to do it anyway.”

Y/N lowered her head in shame. There was a part of her that felt useless. She couldn’t jump around rooftops and save those who needed it. She was just…normal.

“I just wanted to help,” she mumbled.

Jason leaned forward from seeing her upset. “Y/N, come here.” He reached for her hand and baited her towards him.

She took his offer and moved from her chair to straddle his lap.

Jason held her waist tightly as he pressed his forehead to her’s. “I don’t want to lose you,” he whispered.

“You’re not going to,” she reassured him.

“Please, I’m begging you, don’t ever do something like that again.”

Y/N’s heart hurt at how desperate he sounded. She had realized far too quickly that Jason wasn’t scared of death. He was only scared of her death.

“I promise,” she told him.

“You scared the fucking shit out of me, Y/N.”

“I know. I’m sorry.”

Jason accepted her apology with a kiss. But it didn’t end quickly. In fact, it got more heated and hungrier. His grip got firmer on her waist.

Y/N knew where this was going, especially as he thumbed the hem of her hoodie and sweatpants. But they both needed this.

“The pancakes, Jason.” She warned him.

Jason smiled as he pulled away from her lips. “Fuck the pancakes,” he told her in between kisses. “I’m takin’ you back to bed.”

—————————

A few weeks had passed since the incident. Y/N tried to get her relationship with Jason back to normal. He still insisted on keeping his vigilante life away from her. But there was more of an understanding for why now.

However, tension had risen again a couple days after the attack, when they received an interesting gift in the mail. They had opened a rather large envelope addressed to the both of them. 

Inside were two first-class plane tickets to Paris with their names on them and an open reservation at Hotel Le Royal Monceau.

Y/N had stared at them with more of an understanding than Jason.

She’d looked up at Jason. “I…I told him I’ve always wanted to go to Paris when I first met him at the gala.”

He’d glared at the gift. “Typical Bruce. If he can’t punch his way out of an issue, he’ll try and buy it.”

Neither of them had said anything about actually using tickets and reservation. It just collected dust on one of their end tables.

Now Y/N sat in their apartment alone, reading another one of Jason’s books, when her cell started ringing.

It was a number she didn’t know, but she decided to answer it anyway.

“Hello?”

“Ms. Y/L/N, it’s Alfred Pennyworth,” a charming voice answered back.

Y/N couldn’t help, but smile. As if she knew more than one Alfred in the world. “Hi, Alfred.”

“I thought it would be a good time to give you that lesson you asked for. Are you free today?”

Y/N looked around her apartment. All of her plans for today had consisted of laying around, drinking coffee, doing a bit of reading.

“Yes, today would be great.”

—————

Y/N wouldn’t make the same mistake twice and had given Jason the heads up on her change of plans.

Seeing as Jason had no issue with Alfred, he didn’t seem too bothered bit it all. But he did still tell her to be careful and ended the call with a sincere, “I love you.”

It was strange going back to Wayne Manor when there wasn’t a gala being held there.

Y/N thought it would seem more like a home this time around, but it still felt like a museum to her. And yet, she still had imposter syndrome as she walked through the threshold.

Alfred gave her a warm smile as he opened the door. “It is lovely to see you again, Ms. Y/L/N.”

“Alfred, please, it’s just Y/N.”

He nodded. Then he gestured for her to follow him. “Come. I have a station set up in the cave.”

Y/N stuttered to a stop. “Cave? As in the Bat Cave?”

Alfred seemed amused with her hesitation and concern. “Of course.”

“Should I be – Is that even OK?” Y/N fumbled through her question.

“Well, I don’t see the point of hiding it from you. It’s not like you don’t know all the family secrets already, dear.”

Y/N blinked at that and finally continued following him.

Alfred led her through the secret passage way as if he was taking her to the dining room. She tried to control her reactions and not come off too interested in the details of it all. But it was rather hard.

Just like Alfred told her, there was a little medical station set up in a brighter lit area of the dark and dingy cave.

Y/N half expected him to bring up the recent drama that she’d caused. But ever the gentleman, Alfred didn’t so much as mention it.

He also did as he promised, going through everything she could ever need to know while tending to Jason. He even had little models to practice sewing stitches on. He was a good teacher and Y/N was soaking it all up like a sponge.

She couldn’t imagine her going to med school at any point. But knowing these skills were going to be used to help Jason made it easier to retain.

After hours of teaching, the cave awoke as a carport opened and the batmobile sped in.

Y/N internally swore. She’d hoped not to run into Bruce with this visit. He never seemed to be home, so the odds had seemed low. But clearly she’d messed that up.

Bruce stepped out of the car, taking in the two of them.

“Any injuries, Master Wayne?” Alfred asked politely.

Bruce was about to lie, but he glanced down at his abdomen where it was quite obvious he was bleeding.

“Perfect. My pupil can practice on you,” Alfred announced. 

Y/N’s eyes widened in panic. “Oh! That’s definitely a bad idea…”

“Nonsense. Best way to learn is under pressure,” he winked. “I shall go off and start dinner. Let me know if you’re near death, Master Wayne.”

Y/N watched him leave, regretting ever having come here.

When she turned back around, Bruce was removing his cowl.

“He’s right,” Bruce admitted. “Best way to learn is under pressure.” Then he moved to sit in the medical chair.

Y/N swallowed, realizing how dry her mouth was. “Right.”

Her hands shook as she tried to remember everything Alfred had been through. But she knew in the back of her mind that Bruce was fully capable of stitching himself up. So, as much as this was a set up from Alfred, Bruce wasn’t running away from it like she had tried to.

Y/N hadn’t said a word as she cleaned his wound, only apologizing when she thought was necessary – even though he never made a sound of pain or even so much as winced.

Bruce seemed to be following her lead, not wanting to force her to talk if she didn’t want to.

But after 20 minutes or so of silence, Y/N couldn’t take it any longer.

“You know, you can’t buy his forgiveness,” she said as she focused on her stitches.

“I wasn’t only looking for his forgiveness…”

Her eyes flickered to meet his awaiting gaze. “You can’t buy mine either.”

“I owe you an apology,” Bruce began to her surprise. “I should have never involved you. It was dangerous, despite how in control of situation I thought I was.”

“I agreed to it,” Y/N offered. Then she looked at him again. “But I accept your apology.”

A moment passed before Y/N asked, “Are you going to say that to him, too?”

“I would if he would even consider talking to me.”

With that comment, Y/N put down her tools for a second and straightened her posture. “I may not know you very well, Bruce. But I do know that you and Jason are more alike than either of you care to admit.”

She hesitated on continuing. Did Bruce even deserve advice from her?

“He was hurt. And he showed all of you that hurt by being angry, because he didn’t know how else to tell you. He doesn’t feel heard and he doesn’t feel seen. He was lost. And it’s hard for him to just forget how you all handled it.” She took in a deep breath. “But I know he still sees all of you as his family. And you’re the closest thing he’s ever had to a real father.”

Then she quickly grabbed her tools again and cleared her throat. “So, get over yourself, and just talk to him. And I mean actually talk to him – not as Batman and Red Hood, but as Jason and Bruce.”

The cave went quiet.

Y/N couldn’t help herself and looked up at Bruce. Either she was losing her mind or he was giving her a very shy smirk.

“What?” She blurted out.

But before he could answer, a motorcycle sped into the cave.

Y/N would recognize Jason’s bike anywhere. But he wasn’t in uniform. Instead, opting for his black leather jacket and a normal tinted motorcycle helmet.

After he took it off, he eyed the two of them, trying to read the room.

“Hey,” Y/N said shyly.

“Figured I’d come and pick you up,” Jason answered her unasked question, ignoring Bruce.

Y/N looked down at Bruce’s injury. “Actually, I’m all done here.”

“Thank you,” Bruce said sincerely as Y/N covered the wound with a bandage. “You’ll be a better nurse than Alfred in no time.”

Y/N grinned and took off her gloves.

But then she met Jason’s unsure gaze. They had a silent conversation.

“I’m gonna go say goodbye to Alfred,” she quickly told Jason, but really she was telling both of them. “Meet me out front when you’re ready?”

Jason hesitated, but nodded.

Y/N walked to him and gave him a quick kiss for comfort and encouragement.

And then she was off, leaving the two men alone.

Jason shifted his weight, not knowing where to start.

“You’re lucky to have her,” Bruce finally spoke.

Jason winced even though it was a compliment. “I don’t deserve her.”

Bruce stood up. “That’s not true.”

“You of all people know I’m not a good man, Bruce.”

He shook his head. “We may have different views on how to save this city. But we both want the same thing. That doesn’t mean you’re not a good man, Jason.”

Jason blinked at his statement.

“I owe you an apology for... a lot,” Bruce began. “The first is putting that girl in danger.” He paused. “The second was not protecting you – before and after everything that happened.”

“You mean before and after I died?” Jason wasn’t going to make this easy for him.

Bruce’s jaw clenched at that.

“Anything else you want to apologize for?” Jason challenged.

“Yes,” Bruce confirmed. “But I get the feeling that you don’t want to hear it all right now.”

There was a pause.

“You’ll always be my son, Jason. Even if you no longer see me as your father.”

Jason’s eyes filled with tears at Bruce’s words. But he held them back. He couldn’t break down. He couldn’t be weak. Not here. Not now. Not like this. 

He couldn’t take any more of this discussion. But he knew this was what he’d been wanting to hear from Bruce for so long.

“I’ll see you around, Bruce.” He told him before putting his helmet back on.

But Bruce had one last thing to say. “Keep her close. Don’t be like me, Jason.”

‘Don’t push people who love you away and make this darkness be your only life,’ was what Bruce would never actually have the courage to say.

Jason now had the cover of his helmet to hide his expressions. But he gave Bruce one last glance before tearing out of the cave.

—————

As Jason pulled his motorcycle up to the front of the manor to pick of Y/N, Damian was playing out front with Titus on the gravel drive.

“Hey, Demon Spawn,” Jason greeted after taking off his helmet.

“Todd,” the boy replied coldly.

To his surprise, Jason got off his bike and walked to him with his hands in the pockets of his leather jacket.

Damian eyed him.

“I saw what you did that night. You saved her life,” Jason said.

Damian waited.

Jason held out his hand. “I just wanted to thank you.”

The boy hesitated before finally shaking it.

Jason didn’t expect Damian to say anything. But he did know talking to him like an adult, instead of a kid, was the only way to get through to him.

Then Y/N was walking out to them with Alfred lingering in the doorway.

“Hi, Damian,” she greeted sweetly before greeting his dog as well.

“Hi, Y/N.”

Jason was surprised he even remembered her name.  

“Ready to go?” He asked Y/N.

She nodded. But then reached up to touch the white in his hair. She seemed to have a fondness for it. And Jason didn’t seem to mind.

“You OK?” She asked.

He nodded. “Better.”

She gave him a shy but encouraging look. “I’m glad.”

“I love you, you know,” Jason breathed.

“I know,” she smiled.

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

Oh lordy. That took way longer than I was expecting. But kept my mind off of this dumpster fire of a country. And I hope reading it did the same for you ❤️

[oodlyenough]

alright i've seen arcane twice through now, here are my opinion patch notes:

jayce is hilarious i can't believe fandom hates him so much lmao... arcane boldly asks, what if steve rogers shot a child, and i think that's very fun and sexy of them

fr though i do think jayce is one of the more interesting characters precisely because he's -- well partly because i feel like he realized he's bisexual two days ago and is making it everyone's problem, which is already great. but also because watching the square-jawed hero complex guy make a series of terrible decisions and go mad with power is a satisfying thing to witness. the story seems very aware jayce is doing a bunch of fucked up stuff, and i appreciate that. unhinged bisexual rights

i was also more into the political drama once i was following it closer. i think it's handled with relative subtlety most of the time and i like that! i hope it stays that way in s2, please god. also how tf does the council work, are people appointed? i guess? based on status/wealth? it certainly doesn't seem to be a democracy.

also i love ambessa. can't wait to see more of her.

i feel like mel's writing is... kind of underbaked. her words and her actions don't always correspond (eg "i've never been able to give back!" says the single richest person in a city with severe wealth disparity who has been in political power for a decade). i don't say any of this to drag mel, because i'm very interested in who i think she is/could be, but i find it hard to decipher if this is nuanced writing or just the story not really knowing what it's doing with her -- i guess we'll see what s2 does. i'm still pretty confident she'll survive the finale, not so much because i think she'll survive the entire show (doubtful imo) but because i think if they're going to kill mel she'll get a solo death episode and the finale/fallout of jinx's bomb has too much else going on. fingers crossed anyway, lol, i think it'd be shitty if she's just dead now before they did much with her

i understand like 25% more of what happened with viktor and happy fun ball but ... still not a lot. lmao. i don't mind them keeping it vague i guess but i hope future sequences are less outright confusing to me. why did it eat sky? why did it change his hand? was that on purpose? we never saw him having issues with his hand, right? who knows.

still love that dinner scene with jinx/silco/vi. as i was watching with @firstofoctober i was saying how great it is that everyone in the scene is saying stuff they genuinely believe even if that stuff isn't factually true. i know there's Discourse over how genuine silco was being but i really do think all evidence points to him meaning it/believing what he's saying, even if *we* know vi isn't going to betray powder, etc. likewise vi obviously means it when she says she loves jinx and they're still sisters etc... but i really don't think she has a proper grasp of who jinx is now, she's projecting baby powder and expecting she can flip a switch. it's good and sad and i like it a lot.

coming out less flatteringly on rewatch:

ep 1 is so boringgggggggggg these are so many characters and i only have to care about two of them

caitvi moves at breakneck pace lol. slow down ladies it's been 72 hours tops

heimerdinger is just terrible on rewatch imo lmao he literally never does anything to help anyone or anything. i'm pretty sure jayce only deposed him for being mean to viktor, but he was still right. i GET that his whole thing is being immortal and blah blah but like what if: some guy with no perspective on human existence wasn't ruling a city full of mostly-humans. depose him again jayce.

and my least popular opinion: caitlyn i just... i tried man. i dunno. i mean she's nice and stuff... katie leung is funny sometimes. i just feel like she is so uncomplicated compared to literally every other character, with the least compelling arc. and i think the story treats her with real kiddie gloves too, which i find grating. everyone else fucks up and makes mistakes and is punished narratively for it, but caitlyn is always right bc she is a nice good cop. okay. whatever.