#maybe something in there about Doing The Same Thing Again in a way that appears superior on the surface while not substantially effecting

[the-shiftshop]

Shift Anomaly: Glitch?

Today was supposed to be just another uneventful day. Just like how my boredom usually gets the best of me, I ended up lying in bed, scrolling through my phone I bought from that weird shop.

As advertised, the phone was meant to help me gain confidence to talk to my crush, or at least slowly give tiny suggest in their head that they're starting to like me throughout our conversations, but for some reason, something weird happened today.

I was immediately blasted by tons and tons of follow requests from different people. My initial thought was it was some bot raid to my account, then I realized these are actual accounts of different people in my university. I scanned through all the requests and saw at least around 30 people trying to send me follow requests. That itself was already weird, then it was followed by something more unusual. I started getting message requests from about 5 people.

One in particular was from the same apartment building I currently live in. I do not know his name, but I casually bump into him a couple of times with a simple "hey" and "sup".

In his message, I was greeted by a topless picture of him, followed by a greeting.

"Hey. Just thought you'd like to see my gains."

That was his first line of message. I saw him typing again when I took so long to reply.

"Dunno, maybe you wanna come over and feel them? 💦"

Fuck. What is this? Why would somebody suddenly invite me over, let alone a stranger, on my personal account?

The thought that maybe someone told everybody that I'm a cocksucking fag only got worse when I checked another message. It was from a professor of a class I never took.

"Hey. Sorry, but somehow I kept thinking about you. Thought you'd like this pic for some reason. Haha"

I can see what's begging to be released by his shorts. Fuck. All of the sudden, everyone within the campus wants me.

Even the straightest senior jock.

"Come lie on my chest n treat me like a pillow? 😉 would be chill"

It wasn't the only thing he sent me.

"Or maybe you'd like a lollipop, twink?"

The next thing he sent me was a video, low view but this time, with his cock out, fully hard, with him stroking it.

"Doesn't have to be a one time thing"

I was shocked with every pictures I'm receiving. The more messages I open, the more I'm starting to believe this is not just some work of someone sharing my infos to other people. It was ultimately something else.

After checking the last message request, my phone suddenly vibrated like how it never did, and then was followed by a black screen, except it wasn't a quick one. It looked like black goo was filling the screen, then it was just all black.

A text appeared like a notification.

"Make a choice."

That's what it says, before I received a call.

It was my crush, Josiah.

I didn't know what's going on but I just decided to answer his call out of fear that something's wrong.

There I was greeted by his cam, showing him topless in front of a mirror.

"Hey, bud." He called to me, hoarsely.

There was something unusual with the way he spoke. He sounded monotonous.

"Thank's for choosing me." He chuckled, then started pulling on his boxers.

[yumeka-sxf]

I knew from the chapter preview that this week was going to be a short mission featuring McMahon, but it was still interesting.

After the previous chapter, there was speculation that his wife could be Lady Tonitrus, but now we know that isn't true. We also know that his wife definitely doesn't know about his secret job working for Garden, which makes sense since he stated in the last chapter that she's just a normal civilian. One thing that's still a mystery though is whether he married her out of convenience or purely out of love, perhaps before he joined Garden? We can tell from this chapter that he obviously cares about her, so maybe a bit of both? I also suspect (though I'm not totally sure) that he went to Eden at the same time as Henderson since the guy with the glasses in the below panel resembles him. The two of them are a similar age as well, but it could just be coincidence.

At first I was wondering why he didn't bring Keekee with him on the cruise ship, but then I realized she would stand out way too much among all the people. Bringing her on a trek though a jungle with no other people around while searching for a rare species of deer makes more sense.

The scene of him cutting up the dead bird for Keekee's meal was a bit...jarring. Though it's typical of Endo's style where even in short, seemingly light chapters, he throws in a single disturbing panel - reminded me of short mission 13 about Bond and Penginman where we get that one horrifying panel of Bond's memories from the lab. It also reminded me of a brief time I worked at a pet store where we bred mice solely to feed the infants to the snakes (thinking back on it, that's definitely something I would not consider doing again 😑)

For some reason I never realized that Dominic works at City Hall. I thought he was just Camilla's boyfriend who worked somewhere else, maybe an organization that works with the SSS since he's friends with Yuri. But seeing both him and McMahon in what appears to be an office break room pretty much confirms that they work at the same place (unless I'm forgetting a minor scene, I think it was mentioned only in the fanbook/anime guidebook that he works at City Hall).

Lastly, it was nice to see a throwback to the cruise arc, particularly learning that McMahon desired to come home alive for his wife's sake - that in some way he values his life more than just being a mindless soldier for Garden.

Sometimes I wonder if Endo will kill off any of the reoccurring characters by the end of the series...it's hard to say in a series like SxF since, on the one hand it's a light comedy, but also isn't afraid to turn dark if the story calls for it. But if characters we know do end up dying, I always think that older, minor characters like McMahon are likely victims, especially if they have some sort of mentoring relationship with another character (he sort of does with Yor). Henderson is another suspect, though I think McMahon is more likely due to his dangerous line of work. Might not happen, but just something that comes to mind when I read chapters like this! 😅

Anyway, looking forward to getting back to the main arc next time!

[bower-quinn]

Grease and Glances

You're Steve Harrington’s little sister—and secretly crushing on Eddie Munson for weeks. But a broken bike brings you closer. Closer than you ever imagined. From strangers to friends to lovers. fluffy, description of sex, 18+, smut Watch out! There are severeal chapters.

<- Chapter One <- Chapter Two <- Chapter Three <- Chapter Four <- Chapter Five <- Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

The excitement in Eddie’s stomach doesn’t fade. It only gets worse the closer the 24th comes. Wayne, who has suddenly taken to humming Christmas songs and seems unusually cheerful, certainly doesn’t help. There’s a strange pressure weighing on Eddie. He has to behave, he thinks. Make a good impression. Wayne deserves to be liked. And it’s up to him.

But even though Wayne keeps insisting he’s calm, Eddie can feel his nerves. Wayne got a haircut. Had his suit pressed. He even dug out an old jacket for Eddie. Because no matter how thoroughly they tear apart Eddie’s closet—there’s nothing remotely formal in there.

But there’s something else keeping both of them awake at night: What do you give to people who already have everything?

“A car’s out of the question,” Eddie had mumbled. Then laughed a little too hysterically. If he thought about your car�� no. Way out of his price range.

Wayne had laughed too. “How about time?”

And that’s how the idea for the fishing trip was born. A handwritten invitation on thick paper, rolled up like a scroll, tied with a small wooden fish. Wayne carved the fish himself.

“I think your girl likes things with a personal touch,” Wayne said, watching Eddie stare thoughtfully out the window. Sometimes, it’s like he can read his mind.

“My girl,” Eddie murmured, cheeks tinting pink. And then—very secretly—he took off one of his silver rings, polished it with a tissue, and placed it into a small black box. Well, not that secretly, because Wayne watched him with a knowing smile.

“It’s not… you know… not like an engagement or anything,” Eddie said quickly. “Just because… she once said she liked my hands. And my rings. And—shit, help me, Wayne!”

Wayne pulled him into a hug. He had never seen his nephew so desperate. Not even when he got caught stealing a fire extinguisher. Maybe more like the time he picked up a dying pigeon from the street, his eyes huge, full of tears. He’d said shit, help me, Wayne back then too.

“You’ve got this, my boy,” Wayne murmured, brushing Eddie’s hair back. “Your girl’s at least as crazy about you as you are about her.”

“Thanks,” Eddie whispered, wiping his face discreetly.

“And now,” Wayne said, grabbing Eddie’s shoulders, looking at him seriously, “go get me a box so I can wrap the kid’s present!”

Eddie frowned in confusion. Wayne, almost bursting with pride, held up a sweater. It was deep green with small black rings around the cuffs.

“The kid acts all tough,” Wayne said, “but I bet he freezes like a puppy. He’s getting a sweater. A warm one.”

“Wait,” Eddie said slowly, “did you knit that yourself?”

“Of course! Who do you think kept you clothed when you were little?”

But it’s not just at the Munson home where a teenager is spiraling. Your house smells like cinnamon, pine needles, and somehow… yes, Christmas. Faint Christmas music plays in the background—a slightly off-key version of Jingle Bells on your dad’s old record player.

Your parents are decorating the living room: Your dad battles the lights on the fireplace, Your mom rehangs the same ornament for the fifth time because it’s “still not quite right.”

And you? You’re running through the house like a headless chicken.

“Are these napkins too tacky? Should I go with the ones with stars? Or plain? Oh God, what if Wayne’s allergic to cinnamon?!”

You trip over the extension cord you laid down, curse under your breath, get up, and dash to the kitchen—again—to check the cookies.

Steve stands in the doorway, arms crossed, cookie in hand. At first, he smirks. Then rolls his eyes. Then lets out a long sigh.

You appear next to him, one hand clutching a hand-tied napkin, the other a sprig of pine.

“Is this too much? I don’t want it to look like we’re trying too hard. But also not like we don’t care. You know? It should look like—oh, hey, we just happen to be perfectly prepared.”

You realize your voice is shaking slightly.

“You’ve lost your mind,” Steve says flatly.

“I have not lost my mind! I’m… focused.” You whirl around, grab a candle, sniff it. “Is this too strong? What if Eddie hates scented candles? What if he has epilepsy from flickering lights?!”

“Okay. That’s enough.”

Before you can argue, Steve grabs you and pulls you into a firm hug. You freeze—for a moment—then melt into his chest with a deep breath. He smells like fresh laundry and cookies. And like home.

“I bet Eddie’s just as nervous,” he murmurs into your hair.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You think Eddie’s all calm and cool? I bet he’s had at least one breakdown. Probably two.”

You laugh softly, but your hands grip his shirt a little tighter.

Steve rests his chin lightly on your head.

“Listen to me. It’s going to be great. Really. I know you’re freaking out, but this… this is going to be a wonderful Christmas.”

You breathe in. Then out. Then again.

“You really mean that?”

“I mean it so much, I’ll skip dessert if I’m wrong.”

You pull back and look at him skeptically.

“You’d never skip dessert.”

“Exactly. That’s how sure I am.”

You smile—for the first time today, really.

“Thanks, Steve.”

He winks. “That’s what I’m here for. Now go and pretend like everything’s super chill. I’ll catch you if you start hyperventilating.”

You take a deep breath, adjust your shirt, and head back to the living room—this time moving a little more calmly.

Christmas Eve.

You park in front of the trailer and turn off the engine, but your hands stay on the wheel. Your heart is racing. Not quite like yesterday’s napkin-induced meltdown—but close.

You inhale deeply, then get out. Even before you can knock, the door opens—Wayne steps out, moving a little stiffly in his suit but beaming.

“Punctual as clockwork,” he says, tipping the edge of an imaginary hat.

He wears a grey suit, clearly older but freshly pressed. The light blue shirt underneath has a slightly crooked collar. And yet—maybe because of that—he looks incredibly dignified. Straight-backed, proud, with a small, uncertain smile that somehow warms your whole spine.

It’s a strange feeling—something between joy and tenderness that settles in your chest and leaves you breathless. Only now do you realize how much this means. That they’re really coming. That this is really happening.

Wayne notices your look and grins slightly.

“Too much?” he asks, smoothing his lapel.

“On the contrary,” you say honestly. “You look fantastic.”

Then Eddie steps out of the trailer. You blink.

He’s wearing clean black pants—no rips, no chains. A dark red shirt. His hair is… tamed. Sort of. At least enough that it doesn’t stick out in all directions. He holds a box—wrapped, with a slightly crooked bow. But he’s speechless.

You’re wearing a green dress—velvety, knee-length, fitted, with long sleeves and a simple neckline. Not overdone. But it makes your eyes shine. And it fits like a dream.

Eddie’s mouth falls slightly open. His eyes drift from your face downward—then snap back up, as if scolding himself for even looking.

“You look amazing,” he says softly, locking eyes with you.

“So do you,” you reply.

Eddie flushes to his curls.

“Wayne made me do it,” he mumbles, prompting a loud “Liar!” from his uncle.

You laugh, and something in your chest loosens. You reach out your hand, and when Eddie’s fingers close around yours, you give them a quick, firm squeeze.

“Let’s go. There’s hot cocoa and an absurdly tacky Christmas tree waiting for you.”

They get in your car. Wayne up front, Eddie in the back—though the moment you start driving, Eddie leans forward until his knees nearly touch the back of your seat.

“Your parents do know we’re coming, right?” he asks, a nervous edge to his voice.

You nod. “They’re more excited than I am. My dad sorted records, and my mom cooked four different sauces. For one roast.”

A few minutes later, you're driving through familiar streets. Eddie stares out the window, looking a little pale. You glance at him in the rearview mirror.

“Eddie. You okay?”

He looks at you, shrugs.

“I’m just… nervous. What if I say the wrong thing? What if your dad hates me? What if Wayne talks about my first metal concert and your mom cries?”

Wayne laughs loudly. “Oh, calm down.”

You stop at a red light and twist in your seat slightly.

“Eddie? It’s going to be fine. And if you do say something dumb, I’ll just distract them with an embarrassing childhood story about me, okay?” You wink. “And besides,” you add softly, “you’ve got me. And that’s what matters most tonight.”

He says nothing—but his gaze softens. He smiles. Not a big grin. Just that small, real smile you’ve come to love.

As you pull into the driveway, you already see the lights glowing through the windows. The front door stands open. Steve is in the doorway wearing a Christmas sweater with a reindeer on it—and a wide, welcoming grin.

“Ready?” you whisper.

Eddie nods and takes a deep breath. Wayne pats him on the shoulder.

“Let’s celebrate Christmas, son.”

You step out, circle the car, and take Eddie’s hand as he gets out. Then you lead them both inside— to laughter, to food, to warmth. To your family.

You glance again at Eddie, gripping your hand with nervous intensity. At Wayne, hugging Steve in greeting.

No, you think, our family.

₊ ˚ ✩ ｡˚ ˚☽

@walleloveseve

@jeangeniex

@cheesesandwichsanto

@your-nightmaredoll

@foreveranexpatsposts

@fandom-princess-forevermore

[midnightquips]

Dangerously Close

Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: Bucky & Y/N are undeniably attracted to each other. Seemingly the only way these two are getting together is with some extreme meddling.

Themes: mutual pining, teasing teammates, possessive Bucky, dirty talk, praise kink, jealousy, soft aftercare, Thunderbolts chaos, friends-to-lovers-but-stupid about it, pining (a lot)

Dangerously Close Masterlist

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Chapter 1: Sparks & Sandwiches

PART II

Bucky stands there for a second too long, blinking at the spot where the plate has shattered on the floor.

Your eyes are wide, cheeks burning. “Yelena!” you yell over your shoulder.

From the hallway, Yelena’s laughter echoes down the corridor. “You’re welcome!”

You mutter something like, “I’m going to smother her in her sleep,” and grab a towel to start mopping up the shards and grains of rice. Bucky bends down at the same time, and your hands meet—his metal fingers brushing against yours.

“Sorry,” you say quickly, pulling your hand back like he burned you. You avoid his gaze, lips twitching like you’re not sure whether to laugh or crawl under the counter.

He wants to say something—anything—to cut through the sudden tension. Something charming. Lighthearted. The old him would have smoothly overcame this situation, then again, that version of him probably wouldn’t even take this long to make his move.

Instead, his current brain offers up: Do you know I fantasize about you while washing my damn hair?

Which, obviously, he does not say.

He clears his throat. “I’ll get the broom.”

You nod, eyes fixed on the towel. “Thanks.”

By the time the kitchen is spotless, you’ve pulled yourself back together. The team has somehow waltzed back in the kitchen for seconds, maybe it’s the cheesy garlic bread that’s beckoned them. Heroes and their metabolism. 

You’re telling them about something you want to bake this weekend. Immersed in describing in detail the layering you want to do on some pastry to Ava.

Bucky lingers a few feet away from the kitchen and watches the way you tie your apron again. He crosses his arms, knuckles clenched as you knot the apron at the back of your waist, hips shifting naturally. You have this way of filling a room—warm, grounded, soft in the places he hadn’t realized he was starving.

His control is fraying as he tries to look away.

He fails.

“You okay, Barnes?” Bob snaps him out of his focus, eyeing him like he’s a slightly malfunctioning toaster.

“Yeah.” He blinks. “Fine.”

“Good,” Bob pipes up. “Because you look like you’re trying to mentally undress Y/N using ancient KGB techniques.”

Bucky gives him a deathly glare, “Stop hanging out with Yelena.”

Bob just grins. “I like to make her proud.”

Speak of the devil and she shall appear. 

Yelena comes back into the kitchen just in time to snag some garlic bread and beam. “What I’d miss?”

Bucky is panicking internally about the teasing. He hates being flustered, especially in front of you. And when he’s flustered, he’s grumpy. He’s only thankful that you seem to be focused on your discussion with Ava.

Bob whispers quietly, not enough for Bucky’s super hearing though, “His obsession with Y/N.”

“And vice versa right?” Yelena sing-songs. “I’m just saying. You’re the only one she blushes for.”

Bucky cuts in before you even notice what they’re yapping about, “Yelena, don’t you have knives to clean or something?”

“I do, but this is more fun.” She pops the bread into her mouth and leans against the wall beside Bucky. “Seriously though, how long are you two gonna keep doing this weird circling thing?”

Bucky frowns. “Doing what?”

Yelena gestures between the two of you like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “This. The eye-fucking. The near-hand-holding. The training where you practically let Y/N mount you—”

”Jesus Christ.” Bucky holds his nose between his fingers, exasperated

But apparently she wasn’t done, “—and then you pretend it’s all just friendship while you look at her like she’s dinner and dessert.”

Bob nods solemnly. “It’s true. You both are exhausting.”

“Thank you,” Yelena adds. “Finally, someone said it.”

Bucky sighs, speechless at being ganged up on. Then, wiith the attention span of seemingly a 5-year old, Bob picks off from Yelena’s garlic bread, “I’d die for this garlic bread.” 

“You two need a time out from each other,” Bucky mutters finally before his eyes again drifts to you

Because honestly, he could say the same about you.

Later that night, Bucky lies in bed, staring at the ceiling. It’s been happening too often. 

He should’ve gone for a run. Done more reps. Anything to burn off the tension still twisting through him.

Your laugh echoes in his head.  

The memory of you reaching for the spice jar. The curve of your waist under his hand. The quiet thank you. The way you didn’t pull away.

He’s not usually like this. Sure, he’s noticed people before. Admired. Hooked up. But something about you has rooted under his skin, wrapped itself around him in a way that feels permanent.

He’s not even mad about your occupation of his mind. He would choose it over the nightmares he used to have. He never even imagined he would have someone fill his head this way again.

Maybe it’s how confidently you take up space without apology. Maybe it’s your sharp tongue and wicked sense of humor. Maybe it’s the way your eyes crinkle when you laugh, or the way your hands move when you cook, or the way your voice sounds when you say his name.

Maybe it’s just you.

And yet, you think he flirts with everyone.

But he doesn’t.

Not like this.

The next morning, the team gathers in the gym for drills, but Bucky’s distracted. Again. As if that’s new.

Your chokehold in his attention strengthens when you walk in wearing bike shorts and an oversized t-shirt that slides off one shoulder. He has to physically look away when you bend to tie your shoes. Yelena makes a comment that makes you beam and it’s like a spotlight is focused on you.

Everything else is background noise.

“Focus, Barnes,” John Walker mutters, tossing him a sparring stick.

“I am.” Liar.

“You’re not,” John says. “You’ve been staring at Y/N’s thighs for ten minutes like they owe you money.”

”I—“ Bucky doesn’t even know how to respond to this

Ava stands up from stretching on the other side of Bucky.

“They ARE excellent thighs,” Ava offers. “Objectively.”

Bucky is dying.

Expectedly, training is a disaster. His footwork is sloppy. He lets you sweep him twice during sparring. The second time, he hits the mat hard and just stays there, winded—more from the sight of you flushed and panting above him than the actual fall.

“Bucky?” you ask, leaning over him, hands on your knees. Your ponytail swings forward, brushing his chest. “You good?”

He nods dumbly, eyes flicking to your lips.

“You sure?” you ask again, brow furrowed.

Your voice is low. Concerned. That’s almost worse.

“Yeah,” he rasps. “Just... catching my breath.”

You smile, stepping back to offer him your hand. Again.

He takes it.

His only reprieve throughout this was your final move didn’t end up with straddling him because he might actually faint, and god he would never live that down.

You like cooking, but once in a while you do some baking  and THAT is what really does Bucky in.

That night, you’re back in the kitchen, stirring something over the stove—brownies, you’d said. Something about sea salt and caramel.

He hovers nearby, pretending to read something on his tablet. In reality, he watches your hips sway slightly to the beat of the music playing softly from your phone. For a second, he actually scans his back to make sure none of the team magically appear this time. The teasing has turned to trauma at this point.

It’s you who interrupts his thoughts this time.

“You’re not subtle,” you say without turning around.

“Hm?”

“You’re hovering.”

He grins, setting the tablet down. “Just making sure you don’t burn anything. Would be tragic.”

You glance over your shoulder. “You don’t even like sweets.”

“I like your sweets.”

Alexei would probably slap my back in approval of that comment. 

You feel heat rising up to your cheeks, but arch a brow to brush it off. “Wow. That one was especially terrible.”

“I’m warming up.”

You chuckle, pouring the batter into a greased pan with a practiced flick of your wrist. “See. This is why I don’t believe it what you say you’re not dating anyone.”

The comment is casual. Offhand. 

“Why is that?” he says. “I’m really not.”

You glance at him, studying. “Hmmm.”

“What?”

“I know a line of girls who would though.” 

Without a thought, he steps closer, reaching out to wipe caramel from your thumb with his own. Your breath hitches.

“I’m not really into... casual anymore,” he says quietly.

Your lips part slightly. “Oh.”

You don’t pull your hand away.

“I don’t flirt with everyone,” he adds.

You blink. “You said that yesterday.”

“I meant it.”

Your eyes lock.

And then—

“So when is the wedding?”

Bucky groans. “Alexei.”

You spin around. “Jesus Christ, can none of you knock?”

Alexei, already halfway into the kitchen, beams like a proud uncle. “I was just passing by. Smelled sugar. Heard flirting. I am very observant.”

“You are very annoying,” you snap, shoving the brownie pan into the oven.

Alexei leans on the counter, eyes dancing between the two of you like he’s watching a soap opera. “You know, this tension? It’s like telenovela. All longing stares and accidental brushes. You should just—how do you say—rip the band-aid.”

Bucky narrows his eyes. “Alexei.”

“What? I am helping.” He winks at you. “You’re very pretty. And you cook. And he—” turns to Bucky, “—looks like he can eat you up.”

You shriek and launch a towel at him. If you weren’t blushing yet earlier, you were sure you were now.

Alexei catches it mid-air, laughing. “Ah! She is feisty. I like her.”

“Get out of my kitchen!” you shout, pointing dramatically.

Alexei winks at Bucky as he backs out. A signal that Bucky has NEVER asked for. “You are welcome, young man. I will make plan. Something romantic. Maybe I get you drunk.”

“What does that mean?” you ask, narrowing your eyes.

Bucky just groans. “Nothing good.”

But even as Alexei disappears, the gears in Bucky’s head start to turn.

And somewhere, deep down, he realizes…

That maybe… Just maybe, he’s hoping that Alexis really, really does.

TAGLIST: @killerwendigo

Divider credit: @saradika-graphics

[resident-idiot-simp]

Thinking again about how heavy Logan is

Al who over the years has gotten used to moving Wades extremities out of the way when he's in the way, either intentionally or not.

Wade will be an ass and take up as much space as possible so she's gotten used to just maneuvering him around.

Logan doesn't do it to be an asshole he just something forgets it's not only him there. Not from lack of noise and hubbub but just from years of it being that way.

Al assumes she'll just treat Logan the same damn way because she knows he couldn't give a shit what she does. (And she appreciates him for that Lord knows she's at least got one of them that minds their own damn business)

So the first time she grabs his arm to move it out of her way she's shocked to realize it's fucking heavy. She knows immediately he's not being an asshole and licking it in place there's no strain after all. It's just heavy unnaturally so.

She's genuinely puzzled but luckily for her Logan realizes what's she's doing and moves his arm to give her room apologizing softly. That's something else she'd learned despite what she would have assumed at first, Logan is a genuinely good man which....maybe shouldn't have surprised her.

People thought Wade was bad but she knew better, It should be a little shock that the people he was close to were the same.

But even as she sits down the can't stop wondering about the weight.

Just a few days later she is nudging one of Logan's legs out of her way. Maybe she technically didn't need to do that, but sue her she was curious. Again the unnatural weight what he was having a hard time computing.

It made no sense to her he wasn't like Cable or Colossus. He was flesh and bone as far as she knew so what was the deal?

She goes out of her way to investigate (and not ask Wade who most certainly has the answers.) Anytime she touches Logan she tries to figure out what makes him the way he is.

She discovers and rediscovers he's a hairy mother fucker. In her experiments that Logan is oblivious to she has discovered his bones aren't right, they just aren't. While Logan may as well be a heater if she leans into him (especially in places like his arm that don't have a lot of skin covering the bones.) his bones seem cold.

An insane thing that makes her beyond confused but she's been alive long enough, and isn't stupid enough to no be able to draw conclusions. Metal it has to be metal she knows how replacements work and while that doesn't seem to be his deal...with You know the healing. She suspects it's a similar concept.

But she knows mental isn't that heavy sure there are some metals but It's almost laughably how heavy he is. Because now that she's paying attention she realizes that if he sits on the couch the whole thing creaks and groans like it's in pain.

If she's on there with him she feels it because the dip makes itself obvious. So she speculates and ponders even tunes in oh Logan and Wade's conversations (a harrowing thing considering the amount of flirting)

She learns that sometimes Logan's bones ache and Wade calls him an old decreed man. Logan tactfully reminds him that he is in fact over two centuries old, and that he has a right to bitch and moan about his damn bones all things considered.

Wade just mocks him but doesn't bother Logan as he lays on the pullout just gives him a beer. If she's being honest she still can't get over how old Logan is. One-off comets here and there are stark reminders.

And well maybe she should have put it together a bit earlier sue her but the claws. The claws that make an appearance at least once a day that announce themselves with a snicket.

Metal and so she wonders if that's his mutation. If he's metal as well but something about that doesn't sit right. Mutations work in weird ways and Colossus may be metal as well.

However due to one off comments and grumblings she thinks it's not the case. Not when Wade mentions finally having katana's to match.

(Not to mention Laura who had the same claws but not the weight of the father.)

She think she puts the pieces together when she's awoken one night to screaming, sadly not a rare occasion and she pities both men. They are wrecked with demons that haunt them relentlessly.

Tonight however when hears muttering of a horror she had yet to learn about. She doesn't pay too much attention always want to give them relative privacy especially in moments like this.

But she hears just enough, tales of a lab and boiling pain and a tank of water. Of coming back to hear how they wanted to erase his memory and make others just like him.

Al hates to imagine the information she doesn't know and desides it's something better left to more understanding ears. Wade after all is no stranger to being an experiment.

[httpskuzuu]

In the sky

I know this is a BSD blog, but I've been wanting to start writing my own characters for a long time now

does this mean that I will stop writing for BSD? no, I will keep writing about them when I feel like it, but I will also add my own ocs to my masterlist

Yandere!God x Reader

idk english

summary: a wish to make you happy

tw: kidnapping, this has nothing to do with any religion

"I want to touch a cloud." A childish wish, typical of a child who spends hours staring at the sky instead of paying attention in class, but you don't let that stop you from mentioning it.

"A cloud? Is that your wish?" His voice sounds from every possible direction. It seems to speak inside and outside your head in equal parts, but that doesn't take away how angelic it sounds, with a soft echo echo echoing through the room.

"Yes, please." Silence follows your request, you're not quite sure whether to apologize for asking such a stupid thing or to insist.

Before you can make a decision, a thick fog covers the room you are locked in. You can no longer see the majestic furniture in the room, until you are completely blinded.

You still feel the bed fluffy under your body and cling to the sheets, afraid that at any moment you will lose support.

Your heart beats loudly, echoing in your ears. Maybe you annoyed him with your request, of course, how could you think of asking something with so little sense to a god? When he proposed you to ask for something, just to make you happy, surely he expected you to ask him to talk to your friends, to your family again, maybe more entertainment, but not to touch a cloud.

But suddenly the fog dissipates and a pure sky greets you. The sky, a sky you haven't seen for too long. You're still in your bed, but all around you is blue sky and clouds that look like cotton candy.

"I'm afraid you can't touch a cloud, it's just vapor, but I hope this will satisfy your wish just the same." His voice rings out again. You turn your head every which way, hoping for the first look at your captor's face, but as always, nothing appears.

Your head completely erases your disappointment when one of the clouds that adorned the sky approaches you until it is in front of your face. You reach out your hands and try to touch it, almost as if it were a puppy, but your hands pass right through it.

An icy cold and dampness is what greets your hands in there.

"Do you feel happy?" You nod, as you tuck your arms even further into the cloud. For some reason, the feeling of being in there fascinates you.

Maybe the next thing you can ask for is to see what he looks like?

I'm not sure if I'll keep writing about him, but hey, I'm not sure if I'll keep writing about him

at one point I thought about writing him with neutral pronouns, but since I write it in spanish first and in that language there are no pronouns like that (there is the elle, although it is not official, but it is very uncomfortable for me) I decided to discard the idea. maybe in the future

[pbxaf4life]

The Long Game: First Quarter, Chapter 6

Paige x Azzi

Masterlist

Be excited for the next one. We getting somewhere🤭 I'll get Chapter 7 out tonight.

Summary: Azzi has to navigate being away from her best friend for a few days right after they both rocked the boat. She's trying to get Paige to admit it first.

Word count: 1259

----------------------------------------------------------------------

Chapter 6: You Can't Look At Me Like That - Azzi

Azzi didn't know what she was doing. She didn't know what she meant by what she said.

I think I miss you more than I should.

Real subtle, she thought, immediately covering her face with both hands. Why had she sent it? It was two in the morning. Of course, Paige was going to think she was thirsting for her—and the worst part? She kind of was.

Because she did miss Paige. A lot. In the kind of way that made her feel like something was missing. Like she wasn't fully herself without her.

Her phone buzzed. She whipped around to grab it.

A text from Paige.

Paige: I've been thinking about u all day

Azzi's stomach flipped. She dropped the phone, then scrambled to pick it back up and reread the message. Then reread it again. Her mouth curled into a smile she couldn't fight off.

She felt bold. Bold and slightly insane.

But the things you say at 2 AM don't count, right?

Azzi: I keep thinking about what you said at the airport

Send.

She watched the typing bubbles appear. Disappear. Appear again.

Paige: I didn't really mean to say that out loud

Azzi frowned.

She wished Paige would just say it. Just admit it. Just be first for once so Azzi didn't have to be.

Azzi: But you did

Send.

Azzi: And I think you meant it

Send.

Bold. Maybe too bold. She felt bold anyway. She also felt like throwing up. But she wanted to know. She needed to know if Paige was in the same spiral she was.

Paige: I did.

Azzi's lips parted just slightly. Her heart thudded hard in her chest. She let her fingers hover over the screen before tapping out the next message like her life depended on it.

Azzi: So now you have to tell me

Send.

Paige's response came fast.

Paige: Tell u what?

Azzi: Tell me what I do to you.

Send. No hesitation this time.

The typing bubble appeared. Vanished. Reappeared. Then vanished again.

Paige: I don't really know how to talk about it.

Azzi let out a groan into her pillow, resisting the urge to chuck her phone across the room. She wanted to scream. Or climb into Paige's lap and force the words out of her.

And then:

Paige: Just know it's different.

***********************************

Azzi missed Paige more than she let on. Even more than that 2 AM text admitted. Three days wasn't long, but it was the longest they'd been apart in months. Everything felt slower. Quieter. Lonelier.

Even surrounded by family, Azzi felt off. Like the best part of her routine was missing. Like she was supposed to be somewhere else. With someone else.

She hated how badly she wanted the week to end.

By Friday morning, she was already at the airport by 5 AM, eager to get back to Storrs. She tried not to seem too eager. But she'd never been happier to leave her hometown.

She and Paige hadn't made any plans to see each other. Paige hadn't texted. Azzi hadn't either. It stung a little. But after the night they'd had, Azzi didn't know what else to say. And she definitely wasn't ready to keep the conversation going.

***********************************

She hadn't spoken to Paige at all on Thanksgiving. It wasn't intentional. She just couldn't find the right moment to step away from family.

Eventually, after dinner, she faked a stomach ache and went upstairs. She sat on her bed, stared at the screen, and typed.

Azzi: Happy Thanksgiving wish you were here

Paige responded instanttly.

Paige: I was just thinking about u

Azzi smiled hard. Her face felt hot. Her heart felt like it was trying to jump out of her chest. She wanted more.

Azzi: What were you thinking about me?

The pause felt longer this time.

Paige: Thinking about something Nika said the other day

Azzi narrowed her eyes at her screen. Her jaw tightened.

She knew Paige hung out with Nika, but for some reason, that still made her stomach turn. She couldn't explain why. She wasn't trying to be possessive. Paige wasn't hers.

But it was easy to forget that sometimes.

Azzi: What did she say??

Paige: She said we in love lol

Azzi stopped breathing.

That was the first time she'd read it out loud. In love. She'd danced around it in her mind for weeks—maybe longer—but never really stepped into that possibility.

Her mouth went dry.

She didn't know what she was. But maybe she wanted to find out.

Azzi: Is she right?

The reply took longer.

Paige: Idk u tell me

Azzi's stomach dropped.

That wasn't the answer she wanted. Not even close.

Azzi: Goodnight Paige

And then she turned her phone off.

Because if Paige wouldn't say it first, Azzi wasn't going to say it either. Not yet.

***********************************

The plane back to Storrs felt longer than usual.

Azzi sat by the window, headphones in, staring out at the blur of trees and frozen fields, but she couldn't focus on anything. Not music. Not the book in her lap. Not even the coffee cup in her hand, gone cold an hour ago.

Her phone was still off. She didn't want to turn it on yet. She didn't want to know if Paige had replied or followed up. Because if she had, Azzi didn't know what she'd say. And if she hadn't... well, that felt worse.

She kept thinking about Paige's last message.

I don't know, you tell me.

Azzi hated that answer.

Hated that Paige could drop a line like that and still not be fully honest. Hated how badly she wanted to know if Paige meant any of what she said at the airport. Or on the plane. Or how she curled up against her on the couch.

It was all spinning in Azzi's head.

The way Paige looked at her. The silence. The teasing. The shift.

And now they were going to be back on campus. Practicing. Around everyone again. Pretending to be normal.

Azzi didn't know if she could.

When Azzi got back to Storrs, she got an Uber. Everything was quiet at 7:40 in the morning, but Azzi couldn't hear anything over her thoughts anyway. 

She was halfway through the dorm lobby when she heard her name.

"Azzi!"

Her head snapped. It was Paige.

She was leaning against the wall by the elevator, hoodie pulled tight over her head, hands in the pocket of her sweatpants. Her hair was messy. She looked like she hadn't slept. Or maybe like she couldn't.

Azzi froze.

"Hey... what are you doing here? It's early," she said softly.

"I was coming back from PT," Paige said, "and I knew your plane was landing soon, so figured I'd see you here eventually."

Azzi swallowed. "You waited?"

Paige just shrugged. 

They stood there in that weird in-between space—neither walking away, neither stepping closer. Just there.

"You get in okay?" Paige asked.

"Yeah. Plane was delayed a little bit," Azzi said. "But it was quiet."

Paige smiled softly. "You like quiet."

Azzi's mouth twitched. "Not always." It sounded almost a little snappy.

A pause. Just long enough for everything unsaid to press in.

Paige shifted her bag on her shoulder. Her voice was lower now. Not flirty. Not dramatic. Just honest.

"I don't know if I said the wrong thing last night or--"

Azzi cut her off. "No. You didn't say anything wrong. I just feel like you didn't say enough."

Paige blinked at her. "I'm sorry, it just caught me off guard."

"I figured," Azzi said. 

They both got quiet.

"Did you... want to finish that conversation?" Paige asked.

Azzi shook her head. "Not today. I need to get ready for the game."

Paige nodded silently and started heading for the elevators. 

Azzi grabbed her arm. Didn't say anything. Just looked at Paige. Paige was looking back. Hard. Azzi's mouth parted like she was gonna say something, but she didn't. The tension was palpable.

Azzi's finger brushed Paige's forearm lightly. Paige leaned closer. Before walking away, she said:

"You can't look at me like that and expect me to know what to say."

[requiem-for-a-raisin]

Villains in Casino - Ellis and the Dangerous Game

*Fan translation for funsies! IP owned by Cybird, translations are my own and may be inaccurate. See About page for more info.*

:readmore:

We infiltrated a casino on a mission,

and because we were disguised as waiters, we ran around the floor.

Female Waitress

"Next, please bring this drink!"

Neema

"Yes, ma’am!"

Casino Dealer

"Waiter there, bring me the drinks for our guests."

Ellis

"Okay, I got it."

Finally, it was time for a break, and we leaned against the wall and checked each other's information.

Ellis

"So far, nothing seems suspicious. I haven't seen any illegal transactions."

Neema

"Was it really just a rumor?"

Rumors of illegal transactions happening in the casino reached Her Majesty's ears, so we decided to go undercover, but so far we haven't seen any problems.

Ellis

"Maybe it's best to come back another day to investigate as a customer."

Neema

"That's true..."

Perhaps because we'd been running around the floor, Ellis looked unusually tired and I looked gaunt.

I turn my attention to the floor, thinking that if I can't get any more information, maybe I should go back out and try again.

A surreal space with sparkling chandeliers, excited people, and large sums of money constantly moving around.

(Everywhere is sparkling... Everyone looks like they're having fun.)

As I squint my eyes at the dazzling world, suddenly Ellis speaks.

Ellis

"Shall we try it, too?"

Neema

"Huh?"

Ellis

"Gambling. You seemed interested in it when you first got here."

(He noticed that ・・・・・・)

I don't have a taste for gambling, but the air of fun has piqued my interest.

Ellis

“I'll be the dealer and we'll both try it. Is the game Boker okay?"

He pulls me by the hand and we move to a secluded table, facing each other.

Ellis

"What should we bet? We don't have any chips."

Neema

"How about a punishment game? Maybe something that bothers each other a little."

Ellis

"That sounds fun."

As I watch him shuffle the cards, I think about a lot of things.

(That's it!)

There's something that the always kind Ellis-kun might be a little annoyed about.

And that's...

Neema

"If I win, how about no kissing for a week?"

Ellis

"Ehhh..."

In an instant, his hands stopped shuffling the cards and a look of despair appeared on his face.

There's something amusing about that face, and it awakens my mischievous side.

Neema

“I'll go with no kissing. What about you, Ellis?"

Ellis

"I've decided too."

Ellis deals 5 cards with his lips tightened.

Ellis

“I won't lose, I'll stop what Neema-san is up to.”

He stared at his cards with more enthusiasm than usual and changed two cards.

I changed three cards, but could only get one pair.

Ellis

“Are you ready?"

Neema

"Okay, here we go!"

We both show our cards on the table at the same time.

I have one pair, and Ellis has two pairs.

He wins.

(Too bad, I lost.)

I drop my shoulders and look away from the cards.

(Come to think of it, I didn't hear about Ellis' punishment game.)

I look up and see him staring at me, his eyes locked on mine.

Neema

“Congratulations, Ellis, you win.”

Ellis

"Thank you."

He walks around the table and stands next to me, looking down at me.

Neema

"By the way, what's the punishment for you winning, Ellis?”

In an instant, my lips are stolen.

My thoughts melt away as he kisses me so passionately that I feel like I'm being devoured, and when I reach for his chest his lips finally part.

Ellis

"If I win..."

But then his eyes meet my own, filled with heat.

Ellis

"In one week, I'll kiss you so much that your lips will be red and swollen."

Neema

"Huh?"

Ellis

"The moment you said you wouldn't allow me to kiss you, I thought of doing the exact opposite if I won."

Ellis-kun stroked my cheek with a dreamy look on his face, and gave me a sweet, intoxicating smile.

Ellis

"I won't stop even if my lips get cut or swollen."

Ellis

"Let's keep kissing, Neema-san."

My lips were sealed again, I regretted what I had said.

The sweet, indulgent kiss was like a slow-acting poison, driving me crazy and preventing me from ever going back.

[respectfulrebel]

I don’t have the vocabulary to articulate properly just how fucking riveted I was while reading this, so please accept these as visual representation:

"There are things that I can do to you that are worse than death," he reminded the man.

Scary Noah is hot 👀 what is wrong with me

As soon as his large form appeared in the doorway, you lunged at him. Your foot roughly pistoned into his chest to force him back and then you jumped down, kneeing right between his legs. Dante groaned in both pain and anger as he doubled over to grab his shriveled balls. This was it. Your chance to run.

The way I held my breath during that scene 😩

Noah would come after you, right? He would continue to protect you. He would pull you close and tell you everything would be okay, that he would never leave your side again.

...right?

YEEEEESSSS HE WOULD AND HE IS 😭

Dante murmured after tucking his face into the crook of your neck and deeply inhaling your scent. You grimaced as you tried to turn your head as far to the opposite direction as you possibly could.

Disgusting 😭 get your filthy hands off my girl 😡

The longer you were captured, the more you began to lose hope. Perhaps Noah wasn't coming for you after all. Maybe he figured you being taken was a blessing because it was one less headache for him to have to deal with.

Baby nooooooo 😭 he’s coming, he loves you 😭

"Nick?" You squeaked out when you finally were able to make sense of the familiar face in the doorway.

NICK?????????

"I'm going to be straight forward because I don't have time to linger." Nick sighed, as if he was upset his little game had been disturbed. "I know where she is and who's keeping her. I'll tell you everything if you help me with one simple task."

Plot twist of the fucking century. Nick saving the day was not something I saw coming 😳

"No, not her father. He has his hand in this, sure, but he's not the one calling the shots."

I FUCKING KNEW IT 😭😭😭😭😭

His top goal was to get you out safely, though. After that, he would go on the much needed rampage to prevent this from ever happening again. No longer would you have to run and hide behind a fake identity. You could live the life of freedom you rightfully deserved. Noah was going to make sure of it, even if he had to die trying.

🥺🥺🥺 No dying, please 🥺🥺🥺

Noah wanted to argue with him but he knew Jolly was serious about keeping their main operation going.

What is the main operation????? 😭😭😭 I can’t wait to find out 😭😭😭😭😭

Nicholas had skirted around telling Noah what he was even doing on the yacht to begin with. He would only smirk and change the subject, but something was telling Noah that Red had something to do with this. You couldn't have one egotistical asshole with an agenda without another there to impede.

Ahhhh all of those unanswered questions are burning a hole in my braaaainnn 😭

Killing didn't used to come naturally to him; his first time taking a life still haunted him periodically. But when he was trying to protect someone he cared about, he would take on the task without a second thought.

There is definitely something wrong with me cause I’m like 🥰🥰🥰 he protects 🥰🥰🥰👉🏻👈🏻

His heart was pounding within his chest, his eyes frantically searching for the door Nicholas had described.

Yeah, dude, same, my heart is also pounding in my chest 😭

He immediately grabbed it with one hand, the other retrieving his gun before he simultaneously layered the two on Hawk's face. Pillow first, his fist pressing down into it, then he fired the gun straight into the fluff to muffle the sound.

😳😳😳😳 why is this hot

The moment your wrists were free, you threw your arms around Noah and practically jumped into his body. His own arms circled around you, holding you as close as possible. Burying your face into the crook of his neck, you fought back your tears the best you could. You were just so damn happy to see him. It was impossible to even put it into words.

Sobbing 😭😭😭😭😭🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺

Noah was cut off by a body filling the doorway, a gun pointed in your direction. You jumped and immediately backed into Noah who grabbed your waist, your breath catching in your throat. Even Noah was tense against you, until you both settled upon realizing it was Jackson standing there.

JESUS, that fucking scared me 😩

"You think I know which way east is?"

That made me giggle cause same 🤭

You kept a brisk pace, Noah still trailing close behind. Just as you were about to glance back at him, a shot rang through the silence, followed by a sudden groan of pain.

WHAAAAT? Noooooooooo 😭😭😭😭😭😭

You glanced down to see your own shirt stained from where Noah's injured side was pressed against you. Your eyes widen with fear, a sob threatening to break free. No, no, no. You couldn't lose him. You refused to. This wasn't happening. It couldn't be happening. Noah didn't deserve this. None of the people helping you did.

Stooooopp nooooo 😭😭😭 he’s gonna be okay, he’s gonna be fine, he has plot armour, right??????

「 ON DISPLAY 」 noah sebastian ⨯ f!reader

▷ chapter six

noah is your neighbor and your new favorite view thanks to his lack of curtains. you're pretty sure he prefers it this way. but the man you've created in your imagination is nothing like reality and you soon find yourself falling prey to a past lifestyle you had been desperately on the run from. trigger warnings : language, smut, violence, mention/flashbacks of abuse, alcohol and drug use, sexual harassment/assault (nongraphic). word count : 9k

masterlist

a/n : sorry for the super mega delay :') extra sorry for the barely there proof reading/revisions of the last half :')))

NOAH POV

“I'm only going to ask this one more time,” he breathed out with irritation, a hammer filthy with blood dangling at his side. “Where. The. Fuck. IS SHE?!” 

The man tied to the chair flinched and cried out in fear, his words gurgled and incoherent from the pool of blood constantly filling within his mouth. Noah had made sure of that happening when he pried a couple of his teeth free, yet he still received no answers despite his more grizzly methods. This guy was good, but Noah would break him eventually. They always broke. 

Unless he broke first. 

When no answer was given, he swung the hammer down-no hesitation-until it smashed the bones of the man's right hand with an astounding amount of ease. It was the third wack he had taken, his attempts to make sure the guy never even held a pencil again quite thorough. All of this gore could stop if only he gave him the answers he so desperately needed. A truth he had told the guy multiple times, though his kindness was only met with a hardened stare and silence - other than the howls of pain. 

The scent of blood - metallic and copper-like - filled the air, and Noah wasn't one of those sickos who enjoyed the smell of death. It was all part of the job, though. A small price to pay to keep things running smoothly. 

Muddled senses aside, his mind was on one thing and one thing only right then: you had been taken. How had this happened when he had been so cautious? Guards, cameras (something you were not knowledgeable of), a persistent fucking need to hear your voice every half hour or so. Where had he messed up? Maybe he had been too lacking with the guards when it came to allowing them to watch you from their cars. He should've demanded they remain by your side always no matter what sort of threats you gritted out to them. 

Something had flown under the radar. Or rather someone. And now you were gone. Noah could feel his chest tightening as he turned away from the ragged man to begin pacing before him again. His head was pounding and his heart rate had yet to cease from beating wildly within his chest. This felt like the few times he had done those powdery white lines and regretted it each time. Noah knew he was too high strung for it but had that stopped him? No. Just as knowing better about you hadn't stopped him from making a dire mistake either. 

Noah groaned as his phone vibrated within his pocket. He snatched the device and immediately brought it to his ear after connecting the call. 

“What?” He hissed, his anger and annoyance radiating in waves. 

“No hits from the tracker on her phone. The last location was her apartment, as we already knew.” 

It had been pointless to even ask for your phone to be tracked because these guys weren't amateurs. They were going to cover their bases when kidnapping someone like you. 

“Fuck!” Noah loudly erupted, the hammer he held dropping to the floor, forgotten. 

“I'm trying to check all the security cameras in the area but the roads were fucking packed. I keep losing them.” The guy explained, his voice wavering. He was obviously scared of Noah’s outburst, even from over the phone. 

“What kind of car?”

“Black SUV. Looks like an Expedition, maybe an Escalade. These city cameras are fucking shit so it’s hard to tell.” 

Noah nodded to himself as he stored that information away. “I need you to find any and all information you can on her dad. All his properties. Businesses, houses, fucking bicycles. All of it. If his name is on it, then I need it sent to me.”

Without waiting for a response, Noah ended the call and tossed his phone aside. He then took in a deep breath before turning back to the man bound to the chair. He was who had tried to stop Jackson from going into the apartment building once all hell broke loose. Jackson was good but often underestimated because he was young and looked even younger, so the man had made a mistake by thinking Jackson wouldn't be able to take him down. A big mistake judging by the bullet holes in his shoulder and thigh that were dripping blood onto the floor still. 

“Tell me something useful and all of this can end.” 

The man chuckled before spitting a mouthful of blood to the floor to join the ever growing puddle. “By way of death, yeah?” 

“Depends on what sort of information you give me.” Noah shrugged, the gun he had tucked into the back of his pants now held firm in his hand. “Tell me a location and maybe you'll walk free.” His gaze then fell to the wound on his leg and he grimaced, head tilting to the side. “Well…maybe not walk.”

“There's no point when you're already too late. She's probably back in his hands as we speak and if she doesn't agree to what he wants, she's dead.” he slurred.

“What does he want?” Noah’s brows furrowed, though he was pleased to be getting something out of the guy. 

“What do you mean?” The guy groaned as he shifted in the seat, his mangled hand attempting to move as well but the ropes were too tight and continued to bite into his flesh. “He wants her! That's all he's ever been after!” 

Noah stared at the guy for a long moment, remaining silent as he did, jaw tense. He was thinking, trying to formulate a plan to get you back once he had even an inkling of a location. As much as he wanted to just go in guns blazing, he knew that would be the stupidest idea. 

“Tell me where he's keeping her,” he again demanded. “I'm beginning to grow bored.” 

That meant he would kill the guy shortly if he didn't prove himself to be useful. Maybe he would extend his life a little longer, though it wouldn't be much of an existence when tied to a chair and bleeding out. 

“You're going to kill me either way,” the guy again spit blood out, red drops dribbling down his chin. “So I think I'd rather know you're struggling to find her once I die than help you.” 

Noah growled as he quickly rushed the last few steps to the guy. He had the gun pressed to the side of his head, the safety off but not yet cocked. “There are things that I can do to you that are worse than death,” he reminded the man. 

When the guy didn't say anything, Noah angled the gun down and fired into his uninjured thigh without a second thought. The man cried out in pain, his body tensing and writhing against his restraints in a vain attempt to free himself. It was useless. They both knew he would bleed out in minutes now. 

“Where is her father keeping her?!” Noah grabbed the man by the back of his hair and jerked his head back at a sharp angle. The gun was pressed under his chin, promising a hasty execution. 

The guy laughed between his sharp gasps of pain. “They said you guys were in the dark over here but I didn't think it was true. Not with the reputation Karlsson and King has,” He took in a sharp breath before continuing. “You're really a let down when compared to how they talk of you.” 

Something inside Noah snapped. He forcefully pushed the man back after shoving into his chest so he hit the ground with a thud, and then before another word could be said, he fired a single shot into the guy’s head. 

READER POV

The air was damp and stale as you took in a deep breath. In through your nose, out through your mouth. Repeat. Repeat. Repeat. Anything to halt the nausea creeping up. That, plus the slight rocking that was contributing to your sickness, instantly told you that you were on a boat. You had always been the type to get sea sickness since you were a child, so much that it had angered your father during vacations. 

You weren't sure how much time had passed since you woke up the first time. That was when your panic had been in full force. You had yelled and screamed, tried to pry the handcuff off your wrist so many times that lacerations now bleed around the tender skin of your hand. All of your attempts had gone unnoticed, or whoever was lingering around didn't care enough to come check on you. 

Slowly your eyes fluttered open again as the sickness worked its way higher in your esophagus. Fuck, you were going to throw up. But then you'd be stuck with the stench of it and that would only make this whole situation a million times worse. Nope. You had to swallow it down. 

You groaned as you turned on the twin sized bed, the handcuffs connected to the headboard keeping your arm at an odd angle for so long that your shoulders were sore. It just went along with the rest of your body that was also in pain thanks to the brawl with Hawk. At least you could no longer taste blood but the sharp pain every time you moved your mouth told you that your lip was split. Wonderful. 

“Good mornin’, sleeping beauty.” 

Another groan escaped you, but this one of pure annoyance. You would know that voice anywhere. Hell, you were well acquainted with the majority of Vane and your father’s men. You could probably pick their elbows out of a lineup. 

“Dante,” you heavily sighed. “Can't say I'm happy to see you.” 

“As feisty as ever. That's no way to speak to me, though, princess. We go way back.” 

You shot a glare at Dante, your face otherwise expressionless. He was completely deranged if he thought you were even minimally happy to see him. 

“Can we just get this over with? Tell me what you want, why I'm here, yada yada.” 

Dante took a couple of steps further into the room until he was standing at your bedside. You resisted the urge to shrink away from his looming presence because you didn't want to show any weaknesses. No vulnerabilities. Nothing he could feast on. 

His eyes trailed your body and your stomach instantly churned again. Gross. Why were the men employed around you always such creeps? 

“I don't know. I think I enjoy seeing you like this more.” He reached out to brush your tangled hair back and your skin burned beneath his touch. It was nothing like when Noah touched you. There were no butterflies or lingering excitement. All you felt was disgust. 

Dante smirked before his fingers gripped your hair and your head was forced back. You winced as the pain splintered through your scalp, your jaw clenching so hard you thought you would shatter your teeth. 

“Boss isn't here yet so he would have no idea we played a bit,” he lowered his voice. “Doesn't that sound nice, princess?” 

“Fuck off!” You kicked out a leg but your foot only brushed his thigh before he stepped out of the line of impact. “Touch me and I'll fucking kill you.” 

Dante laughed from deep within his gut. He pushed your head away when he released your hair, his laughter fading to amused silence. “I was going to offer you some breakfast but I think I'll let you starve down here a bit longer.” 

Stomping away, he slammed the door behind himself, leaving you alone with your nausea. 

When the door opened again you knew at least three hours had passed because of the minutes you had counted. Your bladder was ready to burst and your mouth was so dry that drinking the ocean water sounded pleasant right then. 

“Are you going to be nicer this time?” Dante grinned down at you but he was already leaning over to unlock your wrist from the cuff without your response. 

“Bathroom break. I don't want to have to clean up your piss if you go on yourself.” 

You rubbed your raw wrists as you sat up, completely ignoring his statement. Dante then grabbed your arm and forced you off the small bed, a shove to your back placing you in front of him. 

“Walk.” 

“Okay, asshole. Find some goddamn patience.” 

Dante chuckled. “I really hope he knocks that smart mouth of yours right off.” 

The journey to the bathroom didn't take too long, but your lack of sea legs had definitely extended it by thirty seconds. You occasionally stumbled into a wall when the boat rocked one way, then went straight for the opposite wall when it righted itself. You really fucking hated boats, even nice ones like this. 

“You have three minutes.” Dante pushed you into the bathroom and promptly pulled the door closed before you could protest. Lucky for him you really needed to pee. 

After finishing your business, you hesitantly approached the bathroom counter. You didn't want to see your reflection. You knew you looked horrible. You didn't need a mirror verifying that for you. So, you kept your eyes down as you washed your hands and continued to try to concoct a plan. 

Could you use anything in the bathroom to defend yourself? No, it didn't look like it. You doubted a toilet paper roll would cause any damage. Your eyes frantically flitted around the bathroom in search of something, anything that could help you. You refused to believe that you were helpless to these men. Never again would you let that happen. 

“One minute!” Dante yelled, a bang on the door accompanying his countdown. 

Maybe all you needed was the element of surprise. 

You quickly stepped back into the small room that housed the toilet and climbed up onto it. You crouched, preparing yourself to attack when the moment arrived. You knew you only had seconds now before your time was up and Dante would storm in to drag you out. 

And that's exactly what happened. 

“Come on!” Dante again yelled, but when you didn't emerge, he didn't hesitate to invade the space. Since the area was small, he would find you. You weren't trying to hide necessarily, you just wanted to best him, even if only a little bit. 

As soon as his large form appeared in the doorway, you lunged at him. Your foot roughly pistoned into his chest to force him back and then you jumped down, kneeing right between his legs. Dante groaned in both pain and anger as he doubled over to grab his shriveled balls. This was it. Your chance to run. 

You bolted for the door, ignoring Dante’s demands for you to get back to him. Like hell were you going to do anything that he said. 

As fast you could you ran down the hallway, up the stairs, and onto the main level of the…yacht? Right, you knew you had recognized this boat. It was the exact one you had spent your childhood on with your family, back when you were too young to be sold to Vane and you were none the wiser to the horrible things your father was in control of. 

It had been quite some time since you were on the yacht last, but you still remembered bits of it. For example, you knew this door you were heading for would take you through the galley, then out into the dining room. As you pulled the door open, you were hit with a sweltering heat from the ovens and stoves being on in preparation for a meal. 

“Jesus,” you murmured to yourself. Just as you were about to exit the galley from the opposite door, you paused. Sitting there, as if waiting for you, was a long chef's knife. 

“Don't mind if I do.” Grinning to yourself, you snagged the sharp knife and then exited the galley. Your breathing was uneven and heavy as you tip toed through the formal dining room, your gaze shifting all around in case someone decided to jump out at you. But oddly enough, the yacht was mostly empty. You hadn't even seen a singular employee, which was unusual. 

There was then an intense shove on your back that sent you stumbling forward into the living area and down to your knees. The knife that had been in your hand was knocked away, a boot coming down to apply pressure to your wrist. You were too shocked to even realize what had happened until you looked up to see Hawk standing there, sporting a few injuries of his own. 

“Glad to see our last encounter had some lingering marks,” you laughed. Deep wounds were still present on his face from where you had shoved the bits of glass into. It may have hurt your hand like a bitch, but you knew it caused him more pain than yourself. 

“I'm really going to enjoy making you bleed,” Hawk threatened as his boot twisted down onto your wrist, forcing a cry of pain from you. 

“Hawk! No!” Dante came stumbling in a few seconds later, still nursing his bruised balls. “You heard what boss said. He doesn't want any more marks on her.” 

With Hawk temporarily distracted by Dante, you were able to reach over his leg with your free hand and snag the chef’s knife. You didn't even think as you sunk the blade into his calf, immediately causing him to stagger back and yell. Blood gushed from the wound, staining the previously pristine white carpet you were lying atop. 

“You fucking bitch!” Hawk erupted while applying pressure to the deep wound. “I'm going to fucking kill you!” 

Dante was suddenly yanking you up and wrestling the knife from your grasp. You grunted and fisted your free hand, aiming it right for his jaw. The hit landed, but not as hard as you would've preferred. It barely even fazed him. Dante bent your wrist to the side and you gasped from the pain shooting up your arm, the knife falling to the floor once more. He huffed in annoyance before pushing you back onto the couch, somewhere you couldn't cause anymore damage. 

“Quit your fucking hollering,” he spat at Hawk while pushing his sweat dampened hair out of his face. 

“Let her stab you in the leg and let's see how much you yell!” 

Dante ignored Hawk, his sights instead set on you. “Hawk wasn't lying when he said you were quite the fighter now.” He deviously smirked. “I like this grown up version of you, princess.” 

“Yeah? Well, I still hate you.” 

The insult only caused Dante’s smirk to grow. He was just as sick as the rest of them. 

“Come on.” Dante reached forward and grabbed a handful of your hair to yank you up from the couch, now dragging you back down to the underbelly of the yacht where you had been before. 

“Let go of me!” You yelled while trying to retrieve your hair from his fist but his grip was relentless. “I can't wait until Noah finds me and kicks your ass. And he will find me, you know. Just you fucking wait. You're going to be so sorry.”

The words continued to spill from you, though you weren't even sure how true they were. It's what you wanted to believe. Noah would come after you, right? He would continue to protect you. He would pull you close and tell you everything would be okay, that he would never leave your side again. 

…right? 

Dante laughed before dropping you down onto the twin bed. You tried to kick him away, but he easily overpowered you. Both of his hands held your wrists down, his face mere inches from your own. There was a fire in his eyes and you weren't ready to find out what that would lead to. 

“You think your precious King is going to come for you? I thought you were smarter than that, princess.” He smirked, his breath warm and unsettling as it crossed your skin. “You don't really know who he is, do you? The sort of things he gets into?” 

As his grip loosened on your wrists, you thought you were going to be released, but all it did was give his hands the ability to trail down your arms in a way that made your stomach turn. 

“I hope he does come,” Dante murmured after tucking his face into the crook of your neck and deeply inhaling your scent. You grimaced as you tried to turn your head as far to the opposite direction as you possibly could. “Then I'd get to see your face when you realize that he's also one of the bad guys.” 

Click. The cuff had been secured around your wrist again, keeping you from leaving the bed. 

With that, Dante forcefully shoved himself away from you and stomped out of the room, slamming the door on his way. 

X X X 

You weren't sure how much time had passed this time. Even counting down the minutes had lost its appeal since that's all you had to do. No other form of entertainment was provided to you. Meals had been brought to you twice, both of them left mostly untouched at the end of the bed. And when Dante came for your bathroom breaks, or sent one of his little lackeys, they were now going into the bathroom with you. At least they turned their backs, unlike Dante who held intense eye contact with you throughout the duration.  

The longer you were captured, the more you began to lose hope. Perhaps Noah wasn't coming for you after all. Maybe he figured you being taken was a blessing because it was one less headache for him to have to deal with. You sucked in a sharp breath as the thought burrowed its way into your mind, immediately causing you to feel the effects both emotionally and physically. 

Your stomach turned, your hands shaking. Tears burned behind your eyelids but you didn't want to let them fall. Unfortunately, you were only but so strong. A couple managed to slip down your cheeks, though you quickly wiped them away before they could saturate the flat pillow. 

What the hell was the hold up, anyway? How much longer would you be kept beneath the boat, just waiting to find out what the fuck was going on? 

The sound of murmuring voices outside the door caused your eyes to spring open. There had only been one person coming in and out at a time, never two. You strained to hear what was being said, but you couldn't make anything out. The voices grew louder and more urgent until fading off as they walked away, or so you assumed. 

You were just about to close your eyes again when you heard the door unlock and open slowly. You squinted through the dim light in an attempt to see who it was because the movements didn't sound anything like Hawk or Dante. They were much more heavy handed and footed compared to this new visitor. 

“Nick?” You squeaked out when you finally were able to make sense of the familiar face in the doorway. 

Nicholas stood there unmoving and expressionless, though his bright eyes were locked on you. Sitting up, you tried to pull your wrist from the cuff again, your panic once more settling in. Was he here to help you? Or had he been working for your dad all along? 

“Nick!” You whisper-yelled, your tone pleading. “Please let me out. Please.” Your voice cracked and the insufferable tears began pooling again, your vision becoming blurry from the amount of them. 

He still had yet to say a word. He merely stared at you, blinked rapidly a few times as if he was trying to make sense of what he was seeing, and then slowly backed out of the doorway. 

“Nick! Don't leave me here! Please!” Your begging was useless, though. He had quietly closed the door, leaving you alone again, but now with just your sobs to keep you company. 

NOAH POV

Too much time had passed. You could've been taken anywhere at this point, but that didn't mean he was going to give up. 

There were men all around the city checking up on leads, scoping out your father’s properties, and reporting back on anything that was even slightly interesting. He refused to let this end in tragedy. 

Noah’s jaw tightened as he watched the footage of you being taken again and again. You were limp as you were tossed into the backseat of the large SUV without a second thought, like you were nothing more than a tedious basket of laundry. He recognized the man in the grainy footage because he was one of the three who had come to Jolly’s office that day in search of you. He wasn't the one who spoke, but instead the large one to the left that Noah had easily pinpointed as the muscle of the group. 

This was his fault. He should've done more to keep you safe. He should've kept you closer, but he had been scared. Allowing you in would've meant dropping his walls and barriers, subsequently revealing the true means behind Nocturnal. That would've only put you into even more danger. 

Shaking his head, Noah promptly exited the screen that held the footage. His elbows then propped up on the desk, his hands scrubbing over his face in both exhaustion and annoyance. He had barely slept a couple of hours since you were taken and it was really starting to catch up to him. Jolly had demanded he sleep but it was no use. As soon as his eyes would close, he’d be haunted by images of your face. Of how scared you must've been. Of how alone you probably were now. And that's only if you were still alive. 

No. He wouldn't allow himself to think like that. 

The irritating sound of his phone ringing brought him back down to reality. He heavily sighed, but ultimately snatched his phone up and brought it to his ear to answer. 

“What?” 

“Her dad owns a few yachts,” the guy opened the conversation with. 

“And?”

“And a couple have been docked at the marina for about a week now.” 

Noah sat up a little straighter, his brows knitting together as he thought. That was definitely interesting since you were from the other side of the country. Why would your father’s yachts be here? 

A banging at the door caused Noah's eyes to flick upwards, but he made no move to answer it yet. Only Jolly knew the code to get inside, so he already knew it wasn't him demanding his presence. 

“Send me what you have on the yachts and the marina.” 

Ending the call, he crossed his office to the door that was again being pounded on. Noah slid his phone into his pocket, the same hand clutching the top of his gun that was tucked into the back of his pants, just as he swung the door open. Standing beyond the threshold was not a face he was expecting to see. 

“Ruffilo,” he breathed out with disdain. 

Nick smirked, his own expression full of amusement. “That was a shitty greeting.” 

“Well, I'm in a shitty mood.” 

“Girl troubles?” 

Noah's eyes narrowed in on him, both of them falling silent as they stared the other down. He knew something. But what sort of information could he possibly have? 

“What do you want? How did you even get up here?” 

Nicholas shrugged, one hand shoved into his pocket, the other twisting around the Zippo lighter in his palm. He never went anywhere without that damned thing. “The door was open so I just walked in.” 

“You walked in?” 

“As one does when a door is unlocked, yes.” 

Noah heaved a breath of pure annoyance before turning away from the door, silently telling Nicholas that he could come in. 

“What do you want?” He repeated, his voice more stern this time. He was in no mood to play games, especially not with Nicholas. He always had an affinity for mind games and that was the last thing he needed right then. 

“I think I could have some intel you'd find…appealing.” Nicholas grinned as he closed the door and then wasted no time in making himself comfortable on the couch. He leaned back into the cushions, one arm extended over the top. 

“But, I want something in return for it.” 

“Of course you do. What makes you think I want anything you have?” 

Noah was bluffing. He probably would've given Nick anything right then if what he knew pertained to you. Although, he couldn't let on how desperate he was. 

The smile Nicholas wore only extended until it took up the majority of his face. There was always something so sinister about this particular expression and it made Noah’s skin crawl. Fucking psycho, that's what Nick was. 

“I'm going to be straight forward because I don't have time to linger.” Nick sighed, as if he was upset his little game had been disturbed. “I know where she is and who's keeping her. I'll tell you everything if you help me with one simple task.” 

Noah raised his brows, awaiting whatever it was Nicholas could possibly want. He wasn't in the mood for these dramatic pauses of his. 

“Help me kill Red.” 

Well, that wasn't something he had seen coming. 

“You want to kill your own grandfather?” 

Nicholas shrugged in a nonchalant manner, his lighter opening and closing a couple of times. “He's in my way. And you know how much of an asshole he is.” 

Oh, Noah definitely knew. He also knew that Red had been his top target for years now, ever since his parents had died. He could've killed him many times but none of those moments had been right. They easily would've landed him in prison or dead as well, and he didn't want either of those things to be the outcome. 

Taking in a deep breath, Noah nodded. “Fine.” 

Appearing visibly taken back, Nicholas opened his mouth to speak but then promptly closed it to further contemplate. He spoke only after a few long seconds had passed. 

“That's it? You'll help me?” 

“Yes.”

“You're not even going to ask me why or question me more to see if my intentions are true?” 

“No, because I don't care. All I want is the information you promised me.” 

Noah eyed his former best friend, waiting rather impatiently for him to come forth with whatever he knew. When Nick didn't yet speak, Noah again let his aggravation be known. 

“You're telling me what you know before I help you with Red,” he exclaimed. “I'm already wasting time that I don't have.” 

Nicholas appeared as if he wanted to argue but he bit back his retort. Good. This meant he knew what was good for him. 

“Park Cove Marina,” Nicholas sighed, eyes rolling. “The yacht she's on is called The Genevieve. Poetic, huh?”

If he had been in a better mood, Noah probably would have chuckled at that. Did this mean your choice of alter ego at Nocturnal was done with a purpose? He made a mental note to question you on it later once you were safe and in his arms. 

“There's about five men on board, all with instructions to keep her locked away in a room beneath the boat. They've been told not to harm her, but…”

“But?” Noah could feel the heat within himself rising. He was going to kill anyone who laid a finger on you. If you had suffered even a mere paper cut, someone would pay. 

“But we both know how headstrong she can be. All injuries are superficial, though.” 

You weren't dead. That's the main thing Noah chose to take from Nick’s reveal. But just because you were currently unharmed, didn't mean it would stay that way. He had to move fast, with or without backup. 

“Weapons?”

Nicholas shrugged in a nonchalant manner. “Your usual handguns and knives. Nothing automatic from what I saw.” 

“What's their objective?” 

“Why the fuck are you talking like a military asshole?” Nick looked his childhood friend up and down with a grimace before he finally continued. “They're waiting for their boss to get there. I don't know what's taking him so long but I'd say you have…maybe until tonight to get her out.” 

“Her father is here?” Noah previously assumed the man had sent his little worker bees to get the job done.

A smirk ticked up Nick’s lips and he adjusted his position on the couch, one hand tugging at his suit jacket to try to make himself seem more casual. All of his motions were robotic; learned from studying people to make himself appear more normal. Noah saw right through it. He always had. 

“No, not her father. He has his hand in this, sure, but he's not the one calling the shots.” 

X X X 

It hadn't taken Noah long to put everything together. With a little more prying of information out of Nicholas, the big picture was slowly coming along. He had placed a new target on your father’s head, one he would get to eventually, but there were a couple more in front of him that needed tending to since he wasn't an immediate threat. 

His top goal was to get you out safely, though. After that, he would go on the much needed rampage to prevent this from ever happening again. No longer would you have to run and hide behind a fake identity. You could live the life of freedom you rightfully deserved. Noah was going to make sure of it, even if he had to die trying. 

And he truly meant that. 

Hidden beneath the cover of the deepening night, Noah peered up at the yacht from across the marina. He knew this wouldn't be difficult once on the boat, if what Nick said was true about there only being five or so men, but not being seen ahead of time was the true test. He didn't want to give these assholes any time to call in backup. 

“Are we set?” Jackson questioned as he exited the car to stand by Noah’s side. It was just the two of them. Jolly had opted not to join, claiming he needed to tend to things at Nocturnal. Noah wanted to argue with him but he knew Jolly was serious about keeping their main operation going. Jolly wouldn't let anyone get in the way of it, not even his closest friend and partner. 

“Just waiting for the ‘okay’ from Nick.” 

Nicholas had skirted around telling Noah what he was even doing on the yacht to begin with. He would only smirk and change the subject, but something was telling Noah that Red had something to do with this. You couldn't have one egotistical asshole with an agenda without another there to impede. 

Against better judgement, Noah had stopped questioning him on it. For now. He would get the answers he was searching for, even if it meant having to use force to get them. Nick was tough to crack, though. Psychopaths didn't react to threats or pain the same way a normal, law abiding citizen would. But until it came to that, Noah was going to have to trust Nicholas. After all, your life depended on it. 

Just as the realization dawned on him, his phone vibrated in his hand. A message came through from Nicholas, exclaiming to him that the coast was clear. Nick was to be their lookout until they made it onto the yacht. After that, he would have to continue to play the part so as to not draw suspicions onto himself. 

Didn't bother Noah one bit as long as Nicholas stayed out of his way. 

“Let's go,” he murmured to Jackson, nodding his head in the direction of The Genevieve. 

The pair stuck to the shadows, the sound of the boats rocking atop the water helping to shield the sound of their footsteps the closer they drew to their destination. It was a quiet night other than that, with only the faint sound of music drifting down the long dock. In the distance Noah could see lights from another yacht, one that was more than likely hosting some sort of party, or whatever it was rich pricks did to show off their wealth. This party was also of no concern to him. Maybe it would assist in their cover in the long run. 

With his hand clutching his gun, Noah’s sights remained set on your father’s yacht. His anticipation was rising the closer he got to the boat because that meant he was closer to retrieving you, so he had to take deep breaths to keep his heart rate at a normal level. He needed to leave his adrenaline for when the inevitable fight would begin. 

Circling around to the back of the yacht, he remained on the edge of the dock with Jackson right behind him. They would separate once on the boat. He lifted a hand to signal to Jackson to halt so he could listen for any sounds of people around. When he figured it was clear, Noah carefully stepped onto the rear of the yacht, and headed for the narrow staircase to take him to the main level. 

Dim lights were on, but that was the least of Noah's concerns. He was more focused on the pool of blood on the white carpet in the living room area. His jaw tensed but he quickly averted his gaze back up to what was in front of him. He couldn't dwell on the possibility of that being your blood. He needed to focus on the mission and worry about your potential injuries later. 

“Take the right stairs and go up,” he commanded of Jackson. “I’m going to go down and find her.” 

Jackson gave a swift nod and then disappeared to the right side of the yacht, his position crouched, gun extended out in front of him at the ready. Only when he could no longer see him did Noah continue his way to the left, down the long hallway-like cut that would bring him to the stairs to head down. Just as Nicholas had explained. 

He had just turned towards the top of the staircase when a voice sounded through. It was a faint murmur, but it was getting louder as if they were climbing the stairs. Noah pivoted to the side and pressed himself flat against the wall. As soon as the man was in view, Noah jutted his elbow out, the collision impacting the man’s nose and sending a rush of blood out immediately. He didn't give the man time to figure out what was happening, though. Noah had tucked his gun away and had the man in a headlock before he could even call out for help. He tightly squeezed around the man's neck, cutting off all air flow. The man slapped against his forearm, but every hit became less impactful until he fell still in his arms. 

Killing didn't used to come naturally to him; his first time taking a life still haunted him periodically. But when he was trying to protect someone he cared about, he would take on the task without a second thought. 

After slowly lowering the man to the floor to prevent any sounds from calling attention to himself, Noah continued his trek down to the underbelly of the yacht. This would need to be faster than planned because he didn't want to risk anyone stumbling across the dead body above. His heart was pounding within his chest, his eyes frantically searching for the door Nicholas had described. He said it wouldn't be locked because you were handcuffed to the bed and there was no threat of you escaping. Idiots. They should always lock the door from the outside when holding someone captive. Thankfully their stupidity would benefit him. 

READER POV 

If this told you anything, it was that you'd never last in prison. Solitary confinement? What a joke. You'd be ripping your hair out before the door was even locked. You didn't mind being alone when it was in a comfortable space such as your apartment or even Noah’s, but you were the exact opposite of comfortable right then. You were terrified. Annoyed. Confused. In pain. You had tried prying your hands free from the cuffs again after seeing Nicholas and obviously that hadn't worked out in your favor since you were still trapped. 

Dried blood now stained your wrists, the wounds you had created throbbing and stinging with every move you made. So, you tried to lay as still as you could. Your senses were already beginning to dull from all the other pain you felt within your body. Your shoulders, hips, face. Your fucking dignity. How weak did you have to be to not even be able to take a couple of days of being trapped? 

Sleep came and went, or maybe you were passing out from lack of water and food, but you were trying your best to stay alert. The last time you let it overtake you, you had woken up to one of Dante’s henchmen stroking your face and ogling your chest like a starved man. That was just great. Now you couldn't even go to sleep to pass the time because there was no telling what these Neanderthal-like creatures would do to you. 

“He's not coming,” you whispered to yourself. Your eyes squeezed shut and you angled your head to bury it into the single pillow you had been given. There was a tingle in your throat as you tried to hold back your tears, your jaw clenched tight enough to cause an ache in the muscle. “No one's coming.” 

Fuck. You needed to snap out of it. This wasn't you. You weren't the type to wallow in your pain and give up. You were better than that. Stronger. You may have been broken in the past by these men, but you sure as shit weren't going to let it happen again. 

Taking in a deep breath, you winced as you sat up the best you could, your arms slowly shifting to a downwards angle to help ease your tight shoulders into the position. Okay, problem number one: you needed to get the handcuffs off. But how? The bed frame wasn't the newest but it wasn't like this was some rundown boat. It was still in good condition, no weak spots, so you wouldn't be able to break it without enough leverage. And that wasn't something you were going to get in this position. 

Honestly, you had even contemplated somehow breaking your hands so you could squeeze them through the wrist openings, but that plan was quickly shot to hell. Not only would you need your hands to further escape, but you also didn't have the means to break your hands like this. Or the guts. 

Unfortunately, your brainstorming could only go so far because it was interrupted by the door abruptly swinging open. It crashed against the wall, the sudden sound causing you to jump and turn, eyes wide. Two bodies tangled together, grunting, throwing punches and desperately trying to pull free a weapon. It took you a moment to comprehend what was happening, but once you did, there was a flutter in your chest and a grin spread across your lips. 

Noah. 

He had actually come for you. He was fighting Hawk, though. This couldn't be good. Not when he had a good eighty pounds on Noah, if not more. You yanked at your restraints in another vain attempt at freeing yourself. There was no way you were going to let Hawk take Noah down right in front of you. Fuck that. 

Noah slammed Hawk to the floor as the thought crossed your mind, his fist connecting with his nose hard enough to send blood flowing from it. The bone made a deafening crunch sound that was vulgar enough to even make you wince. Hawk’s eyes drooped as he struggled with Noah, trying his best to land hits of his own but Noah somehow managed to block every single one. He was fast and smart, easily anticipating every move Hawk was about to make. 

Wild eyes glanced your way before dropping to the pillow bunched at your side. “Toss me that,” he breathlessly requested, nodding to the pillow. 

You shook your hands to show that you weren't able to really do that, but you then groaned and shifted around uncomfortably until you could kick the pillow just enough to send it falling to the floor within Noah’s reach. He immediately grabbed it with one hand, the other retrieving his gun before he simultaneously layered the two on Hawk’s face. Pillow first, his fist pressing down into it, then he fired the gun straight into the fluff to muffle the sound. It was still loud enough to make you yelp with shock because everything was happening so fast and you hadn't really registered what the hell was going on. 

But…at least Hawk had grown completely still. 

Your eyes were still wide, breathing heavy as you stared at the pool of blood growing beneath where Hawk remained. 

“You just…he’s…” you stammered over your words, heavily swallowing. Fuck, you were actually going to be sick this time. 

“Yeah,” Noah shrugged after pulling himself to his feet and rushing over to you. He didn't say anything else before he grabbed your jaw and pulled your face to his, your lips connecting in a forceful kiss. You ignored the sharp pain from your busted lip because just having Noah there made everything feel so much better. What pain? All you felt was warmth. 

The kiss didn't last long, but it was just enough to give you the taste of him you had been craving. Noah pulled back to gaze down at you, his eyes softening when he took in the bruises and cuts on your face. The look was fleeting, quickly covered with a blazing anger. 

“We need to get out of here,” he murmured. Noah released your face and glanced at the cuffs securing your wrists. He cursed under his breath in ever growing annoyance. 

“Do you know where the keys are?” 

“Um…” you tried to rack your brain and then slowly dropped your eyes to where Hawk’s body rested. “Try his pockets.” 

Noah didn't hesitate to step back over to Hawk’s lifeless body, immediately digging through his pockets. He was moving quickly as he emptied both front pockets with no luck. Then, he shoved Hawk over on his side like it was no big deal, just a dead body, so he could search his back pockets. 

“Got ‘em,” he breathed in relief. 

The moment your wrists were free, you threw your arms around Noah and practically jumped into his body. His own arms circled around you, holding you as close as possible. Burying your face into the crook of his neck, you fought back your tears the best you could. You were just so damn happy to see him. It was impossible to even put it into words. 

How he had become so important to you in such a short time, you would never know. 

Noah's hands tightly clasped your lower back, then secured at your hips before running up your back, like he just had to touch you wherever he could. You could feel his fingers trembling and while you weren't entirely sure why, something told you it was the anger he was experiencing. Not because of you, but for you. 

“I'm okay,” you repeated into his neck again and again, reassuring him as much as you could of the statement. “It'll take more than a few cuts and bruises to keep me down.” 

“I'm so fucking sorry,” Noah breathed into your hair just before planting a kiss to the top of your head. 

You shook your head, refusing to let his apologies settle. “Let's just get out of here, okay? We need to go before my dad shows up.” 

There was a depth to Noah's eyes as he blinked at you then gave a shake of his own head. You could tell there was something he wanted to say, but for whatever reason he was holding back. You weren't sure if it was something you needed to question right then, not when survival should've been your top priority. 

“We can talk about it later but you should know now that it's not your da–”

Noah was cut off by a body filling the doorway, a gun pointed in your direction. You jumped and immediately backed into Noah who grabbed your waist, your breath catching in your throat. Even Noah was tense against you, until you both settled upon realizing it was Jackson standing there. He released a sigh of relief, though you were very aware of the blood that coated his black jacket and stained his jeans. Shit. 

“How many?” Noah asked as he began to take inventory of his ammo. He casually passed a knife your way without a word, your fingers shaking as they secured around the hilt. 

“Two,” Jackson responded between his labored breathing. 

Noah gave a single nod. “Same. That means there's hopefully only one more wandering around.” 

Their voices sounded miles away because you were staring down at the knife, silently wondering to yourself if you'd be able to kill someone if it came down to it. Just because you had previously stabbed Hawk in the leg didn't mean you had the guts to bury the blade somewhere more lethal. 

“We should work on getting off the yacht instead of searching for him,” Noah continued, to which Jackson gave a nod of agreement. “Let him live to send that asshole our warning.” 

Hands were then smoothing over your shoulders, fingers digging into the sore muscles hard enough that you nearly moaned from the sensation. Noah’s body crowded your own, his hands slowly working their way up your neck until he was cradling your jaw again. His touch was soft, much softer than it had ever been. 

“Are you okay?” 

You took in a deep breath and slowly exhaled, shrugging simultaneously. “Ask me that once we're somewhere safe.” That wasn't necessarily an easy question to answer. Physically? Yes, you were fine, just sore. Mentally? Eh…

Noah mimicked your deep breath with one of his own, the worry evident in his eyes. You were thankful that he opted not to press the topic for now. Instead, he leaned forward and kissed your forehead, the scent of him encompassing you. 

“You're to stay between me and Jackson, okay? Move quickly but quietly. Once we're off the yacht, I want you to bolt east. You'll see my car. Don't look back, just run. Can you do that for me?” 

“You think I know which way east is?” 

Noah tried to fight his smile but it peeked through enough to cause a smile of your own to form. He shook his head as he ran a hand over your hair, lightly brushing the messy strands back behind your ear. 

“You never fail to amaze me,” he teased, and you both softly chuckled. 

Jackson bounced impatiently in the doorway. “We gotta go.” 

With a final look Noah guided you forward with a gentle press to your lower back. Jackson took the lead, his stance something from an action movie. You were impressed but you also felt very under prepared. Maybe even a little useless. What the fuck were you supposed to do if something happened? Get all stabby? You tried to ignore the 'brought a knife to a gunfight’ line that was hindering your thoughts. You kept telling yourself that you'd be fine. Jackson was obviously heavily trained and Noah wouldn't let anything happen to you. Unfortunately, you were more concerned about something happening to them. 

“Breathe,” Noah whispered from behind you, leading you to realize that you had been holding your breath as the three of you took to the stairs. “Can't have you passing out.” 

Jackson paused at the top of the steps, a hand held back to signal for you to stop as well. He looked back and forth before motioning for you to continue, so you did. One foot in front of the other. The knife held close at your side, ready to defend yourself. 

Thankfully you made it through the yacht without incident, though there was something eerie about the silence. It didn't feel right. You felt as if you were being watched, and not just by Noah behind you. Was it really this easy? You refused to believe it because things were never this easy for you. Not when it came to your father. 

A shock rippled through you as you jumped from the yacht and onto the dock. Noah had told you to run but you couldn't seem to get your legs to obey. It felt wrong to leave them behind. That's not how you wanted to be remembered–as someone who ran. You kept a brisk pace, Noah still trailing close behind. Just as you were about to glance back at him, a shot rang through the silence, followed by a sudden groan of pain. 

No! 

Noah bumped into you, nearly sending both of you toppling to the damp dock. Your first instinct was to immediately turn and reach for him, and what you saw was a pained expression written all over his features. He was grabbing at his side with one hand as the other aimed his gun upwards, a few rounds firing out towards the yacht. You were too focused on helping him stand, along with the help of Jackson, to even think about looking up to see who remained. 

“Shit! Shit! Shit!” Jackson took most of Noah’s weight that he couldn’t support himself, but what was given to you was far more than what your overly exhausted and dehydrated body could properly manage. You winced from the heaviness draped over your shoulders, though you refused to give up. If it had been you, Noah would've slung you over his shoulder and carried you to safety without a thought. You could at least manage to be his crutch. 

“How far is the car?!” You whisper-yelled at Jackson. More shots sounded around you but none must've hit, thank fucking god. 

“It's not far. You're going to get into the back and stop the bleeding. I'll get us out of here. Okay?” 

The bleeding. 

You glanced down to see your own shirt stained from where Noah’s injured side was pressed against you. Your eyes widen with fear, a sob threatening to break free. No, no, no. You couldn't lose him. You refused to. This wasn't happening. It couldn't be happening. Noah didn't deserve this. None of the people helping you did. 

“He’s going to be okay,” Jackson continued when he caught sight of your face and the tears welling in your eyes. 

“I've had worse,” Noah then groaned between a sharp gasp, his brows knitting together. 

Once the three of you had finally made it to the car, Jackson helped you haul Noah into the back, where you also took up space. Then, he was off, flooring it through the marina to get you all to safety. 

“I don't know what I'm supposed to do!” You loudly announced as Noah began helping you lift his shirt. There in his right side was a bullet hole weeping blood, the crimson staining your hands from your attempts to press against it to halt the bleeding. 

“Just find something to help stop the bleeding,” Jackson exclaimed in a tone that was far too calm for this situation. Fuck, he was good under pressure. Not something you could say about yourself. 

Doing a quick glance around, you didn't see anything of use. Noah's car was insanely clean, unlike how yours used to be filled with clothes and forgotten water bottles. Your eyes fell to your shirt and it was suddenly ripped off your body, the fabric pressed firm to Noah’s injury. 

“I need you to tell me if there's an exit wound.”

“What?” You had no idea what Jackson had just said. The sound of your own blood was rushing through your ears, fingers sticky with blood still trembling while pushing the fabric of your shirt firm into Noah’s wound. He was pale, his eyelashes fluttering across the top of his cheeks when he didn't even have enough strength to keep his eyes open anymore. 

“An exit wound!” Jackson repeated louder, needing to be heard over your near hyperventilating-level panting. “Did the bullet come out?” 

Your eyes frantically searched Noah’s body and you shrugged, the question being too much with everything else overworking your brain. “I don't know! Fuck! I don't think so.” 

Jackson didn't say anything else, but you did believe you felt the car lurch forward slightly to indicate him pressing harder onto the accelerator. 

“Where are we going?” You questioned through your sniffles and tears that you hadn't even realized had started falling. 

Jackson took in a deep breath before he responded. “Nocturnal.” 

“He needs a hospital!” 

Why the fuck would you guys need to go to the club? You knew going to the hospital with a gunshot wound wasn't the most ideal, but you were willing to risk everything to make sure Noah made it through this. Police interrogation be damned. 

“Everything he can get at a hospital, he can also get at Nocturnal. Trust me.”

Well, it wasn't like you had much of a choice.

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[helloitstsyu]

All I Want | Tom Cruise

Fantasize Series Chapter 7 | Previous Part | Fantasize Masterlist

You’ve been sitting in this SUV for far too long. The heat makes it feel like you’re inside a microwave. The frosting on the cake in your lap has started to melt.

You’re not supposed to be here. Not really.

You told yourself you came for your father’s birthday. You told yourself he deserved a surprise—a rare gesture from a daughter who’s always busy, always too far away. You even brought a cake, even though the frosting smeared inside the box thanks to the jolting road.

Your father’s filming again. He’s been away from L.A., deep in the Utah mountains. The place is isolated, far from anywhere, and way too dangerous. There’s talk of risky stunts planned to be shot here. You found out by accident—an assistant mentioned the location during a call you weren’t supposed to hear.

And when you heard it, something in you cracked. Because you just needed to see him one more time. Maybe then you’d be healed, you thought. Because you’ve been dying a little inside ever since he said he didn’t want to see you anymore.

No. You’re not just here for your father’s birthday.

The truth is simpler.

You miss Tom.

And you hate yourself for missing him. Because even after three months of silence, it still stings like hell.

The second you step out of the rental SUV, the heat slaps your cheeks—and so does the memories. Dust clings to your boots as you make your way across the makeshift lot, gripping the bakery box like it’s your lifeline.

You see them before they see you—crew members scattered, rigging cables and prepping camera drones. Your father stands near a monitor, razor-focused, wearing that serious look you know too well. Then he laughs, grinning, nodding at something on the screen.

And then—

Him.

Tom.

Standing just behind your father. Dressed in black. Aviators hiding those green eyes. He’s looking down at his phone before laughing at something your dad says.

Until he notices you.

Tom takes off his sunglasses, like he’s uncertain he’s really looking at you or a fantasy in his mind.

The moment his gaze lifts, the world slows. Your steps grow heavy. Yet you still walk. Walk toward them under the tent.

The tension hits like whiplash—his smile vanishes, his posture stiffens. Like he’s seen a ghost from his past.

You want to look away, but you can’t.

Your dad finally turns. “Cupcake?” A beat. “What the hell are you doing here?”

You force a smile. Lift the box of melting cake. “Surprise... Happy birthday, old man.”

He’s stunned—but only for a second. Then he strides over and pulls you into a hug so tight you nearly drop the cake.

“I can’t believe you remembered,” he murmurs, voice gruff.

“Yeah, I remembered,” you whisper. Smiling. Pretending. “I brought you a cake—though it’s melting because you picked a literal hell-field as your set.”

Your dad laughs. “Thanks for the surprise!” he says, hand resting on your shoulder. “Guys—meet my daughter!” he calls out, introducing you to the crew.

You feel Tom’s stare like the heat of the sun.

He steps out of the shade now, and you can see his green eyes. The same eyes that appear in your dreams almost every night. He looks... haunted. Frozen by your unexpected arrival.

The agony in his eyes feels familiar. Like yours.

For a while, it feels okay. Your dad lights up in a way that reminds you of your childhood. Crew members come and go, shaking your hand, asking if you’re staying long.

And Tom?

He keeps his distance. But never too far.

Always in your periphery. Always watching.

Though—you can’t bear to meet his eyes.

Until you accidentally do.

And when you do, it’s like being hit by a memory.

That look.

The look that says ‘you’re the only thing that matters.’

The same one he gave you when he found you in that janitor’s closet. When you had a panic attack. Before everything broke.

You swallow hard and look away.

---

The hours crawl. You hover near your father, pretending to care about blockings and camera angles, trying not to glance into those emerald eyes.

But every time Tom walks past you, your lungs seize.

It’s unbearable.

Because he looks like he wants to speak—but can’t.

And you look like you don’t care—but do.

As they prep for the shot, you realize he’s going to perform the stunt himself. A dangerous one. You don’t want to watch. You won’t be able to keep a straight face while he dangles off the side of a cliff. So you walk away.

You stand perfectly still for a while, watching the sun dip low into the horizon. That’s when Tom approaches.

Carefully. Hesitantly. Like you’re a skittish deer he doesn’t want to scare.

“Hey.” The wind nearly swallows his voice.

You don’t answer.

He tries again. “I didn’t know you were coming.” He steps closer.

You glance over, voice flat. “Clearly.”

“You haven’t answered my calls.”

Yes. He did try to reach you. You knew it was him when you saw an unknown number calling you for several times few consecutive nights. But your pride stood tall. You forbade yourself from pressing that accept button. You believe if he wanted you, he’d come to you. But he didn’t. Just some missed calls. Midnight ones, the one you bet was driven by longing and regret.

“Because I didn’t want to talk,” you lie.

“Why?”

You finally turn to him—exhausted. Offended. “Seriously?” How dare he asks such stupid question.

“I just... I thought maybe—”

“You thought what?” Your voice sharpens. “That we could pretend none of it happened? That you could leave me and I’d just move on quietly?”

He flinches.

“So no—I didn’t want to call. I didn’t want to talk.”

He still looks at you. With that look.

“Then why are you here?” he asks.

He has the nerve to ask that. After everything.

“I...” Your anger simmers. “I’m here for my father. For his birthday.” Your tone already rising

He shakes his head like he sees right through you. Like he knows you too well. “Is that all?”

Your mouth literally fall open. You don’t understand this man. One moment he tells you he didn’t want to see you anymore the next moment he’s questioning you as if he knows you all too well.

“What do you mean ‘is that all’?” you snap.

And he can’t answer.

Just keep staring at you with that unwavering soft gaze.

“I should ask you that. Why are you here? I remember you saying, ‘I don’t want to see you anymore, Y/N.’ So why are you here, Tom?”

Another question he can’t answer.

But the look in his eyes says everything. Like the gaze almost had you believe he wanted to scream he wants you right there at the edge of the cliff.

“Nothing to say now?!” Rage builds in your chest.

Still, silence.

Still gazing at you.

“Then leave!” you tell.

But he doesn’t. Doesn’t move. Doesn’t speak. Just look at you.

“Argh!” You groan in frustration and turn. Walk away. From those eyes. Because you know better. If you stay even one second longer in front of that gaze, you’ll lose it all.

“Y/N!” He calls. You don’t care. You walk faster.

And he follows.

“Y/N, Wait—come back!”

You keep walking.

“You’re not safe out here!” He protests.

You ignore him. You need to get away from him. From that soft -deep-loving gaze. You want him to suffer. You want him to beg. You want to hate him... but it’s so heavy to carry that hate.

“Y/N, please!”

“Leave me alone, Tom!” you snap.

And then suddenly—

He’s beside you.

Grabbing your arm. “Just come back!”

His emerald eyes meet yours again. Still the same. Still soft, caring—like you mean something to him.

You yank your arm away. “Why?! So you can leave me again?!”Your voice cracks, your tone bitter.

“Don’t do this.” His face is pale with fear—months of guilt written all over it.

“Ugh! You're so— I hate you, Tom!” you choke out. The words fall without control.

His face falls. “Y/N...” he whispers, almost a cry.

You feel the hot tears forming in your eyes nearly spilling out, even though it hurts to say it but still you repeat:

“I HATE YOU!” you scream, as if saying it once hadn’t broken him enough.

Your tears blinds you, you don’t want him to see you vulnerable, so you turn, wanting to walk away again but you take a wrong step—

And the ground gives way.

It all fades to black before you can even scream.

---

The ringing in your ears sounds like the end of the world. The room smells like sanitizer. Your eyelids flutter. Your mouth tastes like blood and something bitter—dirt perhaps.

Pain blooms in every limb. Your head throbs like a truck hit you.

Your eyes open slowly and a strong white light shoot right at your eyes. Then—a face. Your father.

Tears line his eyes. His wrinkles are deeper than you remember.

He whispers your name like a prayer. “Y/N... Oh thank God.”

You feel the oxygen tube in your nose. Itchy. Uncomfortable.

“Shh. Don’t move,” he says, stopping you before you can lift your hand. “You’re okay now. They got you out. You hit your head—but you’ll be fine.”

“Where...” you croak, trying to look around but your head spins.

You wince at the stinging pain.

“It hurts,” you mutter.

“I’ll get the doctor—” he jumps up and rushes out.

You blink again, eyes adjusting.

And then—you see him.

Tom.

Pressed against the wall like a shadow. Pale. Wrecked. Dirt still on his jeans.

The memory slams into you.

You walked away. He followed. You yelled. You fell.

He looks like he pulled you out and never left your side.

He steps forward.

His shoulders sag. He breathes like he hasn’t in hours.

“Tom...?” you whisper.

His eyes are red like he’s been crying. He takes a small step forward, close but you can’t reach him. His lips tremble.

“This is because of me,” he says, voice breaking.

You shake your head. Your heart cracks at the sight of him.

“You should stay away from me. I’m–i’m no good for you—”

“Stop!” you cut him off. “Stop with the bullshit. Stop pretending you know what’s best for me!”

“Look at you!” he snaps. “I made you like this!” He covers his mouth, grief bleeding into his voice. He shuts his eyes and takes a long deep breath before he looks at you again. “Look, Y/N... it’s because I care for you i have—”

“If you cared, you’d stay, Tom!” Your voice breaks.

Tears finally stream down your cheeks. “You stay...”

He exhales hard. “I thought I lost you,” he whispers, tears dropping from his eyes.

“I can live with you hating me, Y/N,” his voice trembling. Body trembling.

“But I can’t live in a world without you in it.”

Silence.

Only the steady beep of your heart monitor fills the room.

Your eyes blur again—not entirely from pain this time.

Because even broken—you still love him.

And now you know.

He loves you.

Truly. Madly. Terrifyingly.

——

Taglist

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@sdrose93

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@ashdyh321

[mystycalypso]

what does the "my dad can beat up your dad" episode look like in ur au? Cool concept btw I want to. Eat uour art.

"My Dad can Beat Up Your Dad"

I actually decided to keep the title the same because, well, no, "your mom" joke I could make would really fit nearly as well

The episode opens as normal at Beardo's food truck, and as K.O. takes too long to order Chameleon Jr. starts using your mom jokes as insults after failing to attack him, getting visibly annoyed as they bounce right off of him, and he demands an explanation. After all, he must not like his mom if none of this is affecting him. Or maybe she's just THAT lame.

"Well- um, I guess it's probably because-" his face drops. "I don't have a mom..."

There's an awkward silence in the parking lot. But he's quick to recover, "But! I've got a dad! And he's awesome!"

Chameleon Jr. takes the opportunity. "Oh yeah?! Well, my dad could beat up your dad!"

"You're on!"

"Then it's offical. 3:00 sharp, roof of the plaza."

"We'll be there! Oh man, he's gonna love this!"

"I hate this K.O.! I'm very disappointed in you, young man! Consider yourself grounded."

"But Daaaaaaad!"

"Why would you go and do something so reckless? What were you thinking?"

"There was this kid... Chameleon Jr... he kept zinging me, and he called my mom lame, and I guess it kinda got to me cause- cause I don't got a mom"

Laser's face softened. "Oh K.O., Pumpkin... you did have a mom. She was an incredible woman. And an even better hero, and she loved you very much..."

"But, you know, getting mad and escalating a situation is never the BEST idea, Champ."

"Escalate? Escalate?! How can I escalate something when I don't even know what "escalate" means?!"

"Yeah, see that right there? THAT is escalating, kiddo." He hands him a burrito.

"Aw, snappy-whap-whappy! Dragon Dragon Burritos."

"So, I've decided that I will make an appearance on the roof later, but not to fight. I'm gonna face Chameleon Jr.'s dad, but with my words, not my fists. I'll show you how a conflict is de-escalated in the flesh."

"De-escalate? Wassat?"

"It's making a big thing smaller"

"YEAH! Power Battl-"

"K.O., what did we just discuss, little man?"

"Sorrey, dad, I'm just excited to hang out with you." Laser sighs before Chameleon Jr. perks up from across the roof.

"About time you chumps got here."

They scan the roof top but it looks completely empty. Laser confidently places his hands on his hips and smiles at K.O.

"Looks like Chameleon Jr.'s dad took the high road and decided not to show. Maybe we won't have—"

Loud footsteps shake the ground before Chameleon Sr. lands on the roof, throws his briefcase, and pats his son's head.

"Well, never mind! lesson resumed! You just sit back and watch carefully now, K.O." he clicks his tongue and gives his kid a two finger salute before clearing his throat. "Hey there, Mr. Chameleon Sr.! I heard about what our boys did today and though we could show them the right way to solve conflict — by talking things out!"

"Ha! You think I'll let that little squirt of yours slide after zinging my precious boy? I want to fight! Bleh!" He shoots his tongue across the roof and Laser rolls to dodge it.

"Look, I appreciate a good battle as much as anyone! But fighting over something so silly sends the wrong message to our sons, dontcha, think? We should sit down and-" he dodged the kaiju's tail, only for Chameleon Sr. to turn invisible. "Huh-? Mr. Chame- !!!" He manages to dodge again and Chameleon Sr. laughs.

"You're pretty good at not fighting, just like your weakling of a son." Laser stops in his tracks.

"You did not just insult my son." Chameleon Sr. laughs harder

"And If I did? What are you gonna do about it?"

"I'm gonna challenge you... to a POWER BATTLE!"

"HA! Now, what could your puny coward arms and coward legs ever hope to do-" He grabs the kaiju's tongue and punches him, and the two began to fight.

"What do I do? Dad's made this situation even bigger. Wait a minute. That's it!" He grabs the lunchbag of burritos and walks up to Chameleon Sr. "Excuse me"

"Hi, Mr. Chameleon Sr., sir. I'm K.O.. This whole thing started because I took too long to order my food, so I was hoping we could all eat these peace-offering burritos together and forget this whole thing ever happened."

"Aww, that's real sweet of you, kid. The only problem is, I'm a forgetful guy, and I don't like sharing." He eats K.O and the story once again continues as normal.

"Wow. I guess there are all sorts of different families, huh?"

"There sure are, sweetie. Looks like you've learned a valuable lesson today, K.O."

"Yeah. Seems like inside every bully is a big, sweaty, troubled man."

"True. But also, you learned you shouldn't escalate situations you can't handle." He taps his nose and chuckles

"So does this mean I'm not grounded anymore?"

"Oh-ho-ho-no, you're still grounded." He laughs, ruffling K.O.'s hair

"But Daaaad, you escalated things with a power battle!"

"Huh, well then I guess I'm grounded too!"

"Huh?" He hops into his dad's arms and laughs "you grounded yourself!"

"Welp. Guess I can't take you out for surprise ice cream, either. Oh, well."

Laser laughs as K.O. rocks back and forth in his arms

"Noooo! Unground yourself. Unground yourself!"

This was a really fun episode to do in full! So much so I accidentally made one too many screenshot edits

Although I'm sorry it's taken so long to start up on asks again, I've been distracted with work and the campaign. Expect more to be answered over the next couple days

[9mysterybook6]

Now Rhylie wants revenge on me

Guys check this out

Rhylie is trying Copycat is my style

She must be mad because I said (((Rhylie has no creativity or ability to think. All she does is imitate others or imitate others' style or imitate other people's topics)))

or Either Rhylie is mad because she can't check out pamithebunterfly2007's activities on her likes and follows list.

Because pamithebunterfly2007 turned off likes and follows list

And let me tell you, Rhylie

Pamithe wasn't happy when she found out what you were doing.

She is really mad at you and hates you so much

What will you learn to leave them alone Rhylie

Damn creep old hag

((I Deserve Support From Everybody, So This Is My New Design As A Leader Of Gacha Community.))

First of all, this is a cheap copy of my oc design.

You are really a stupid clown😑🙄

((All of you can't report my blog, cuz I'm nothing like a deadly plague, hateful parasite and unwanted person. I'm canceling judgement day about me, I'm also giving and telling everyone will know my true nature, my personality and what kind of person i am, And the best part is that you will be speechful when that day comes and it's today. My personality I am as well my true nature that i had to convince everybody, so i am independent, outspoken, determine, trustworthy, cunning, scheming, ingenuous, cheerful, thoughtful, kind, overprotective, confident, and empathetic))

You can't tell others what they can and can't do.

It is up to people to decide if they want to report your blog.

And let me tell you Rhylie you can never undo your judgment day.

It is coming inevitably

Do all the throwing a tantrum you want because it doesn't change anything.

((I am anyone's leader. Everybody wants me to be their leader, especially my background background.I'm Giving Everybody To trusts me, especially my background, actions and rants.))

Rhylie do you realize what the background is?

Because this is your background, your actions and your crimes.

1-Consistant Attacks, 2-Consistant Stalking, 3-Confirmation of Grooming, 4-False Accusation (Potential Defamitory), 5-Cyberbullying, 6-Creative Theft, 7-Deflecting Warnings, 8-Silencing Victims

Nobody wants a leader like that.

((But this does not mean that me not force people, especially minors, to like this kind of art and drawings, I do not abuse minors, I was trying to protect minors and prevent them from fighting of each other, I am never really are a creep old hag.))

The only person who starts arguing is you, not minors.

And another thing, you literally flirted with a minor and told them to do something inappropriate with them, and I have proof.

((so thanks to myself for telling the truth and showing my real personality, true nature and a person that I really am as well i updated the outfit for myself. I'm never really pathetic about myself, well maybe sometimes I am, I clearly has modesty and humility. i guarantee my victory With all my truths, manipulation, rants, Oh now I can imagine my shocked reaction when i find out what some person that i'm telling a truth to everybody in gacha comunity.I am most serious this time when I say judgement day will never come again on me, I'm Advising Everybody To Support Me And Teach 9mysterybook6 A Lesson Of Not Expose Me And I Will Not Get Banned From Tumblr.))

The person who will learn the hard way is you.

Nobody will support creep old hag like you

And your second behavior is childish. You make minors appear more mature than you are.

As everyone knows

she a copy of my necklace, glasses, hairstyle and headphones.

Here is the design of my oc

And don't forget HER oc design It wasn't hers originally

Rhylie Copycat pamithebunterfly2007's style from the beginning.

Here is the evidence

This is pamithebunterfly2007's original design.

Now let's see Rhylie's design.

If you don't know yet pamithebunterfly2007 gacha oc is mixs Between a rabbit and a butterfly

And Rhylie did the same.

hers is is mixs Between a cat and And an angel and a butterfly and That's why she called herself Rylie Caterfly.

and pamithebunterfly2007 hates that she copied her style

Even pamithebunterfly2007 said it herself

And now the dangerous thing

Did you remember when I said I have evidence of what SHE did to a minor?

I won't tell you who sent this to me because I don't want Rhylie to attack them.

Rhylie says she wants to protect minors while her actions say something else.

A friend of mine commented on this matter.

my friend :: I am assuming that says and do not quote me on this…

my friend :: Rhylie says "I wanna **** you so bad." To the minor

Then my friend posted a picture of a cat vomiting.

And let me remind you again how old Rhylie is.

Rhylie is old 21 grown ass woman

And she tells the minor that she wants to do something sexual with them.

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[alex51324]

I don’t want to read this as Apple being maybe a bit Touchy that the book series is very much a not-veiled-at-all criticism of the capitalism Apple itself represents but…. Mmmmmmmm

I mean--of course that's what it is. There was never going to be a TV adaptation that was anywhere near as critical of corporate capitalism as the books are.

That said, I think the "some people want to join the CR" thing is a quick-and-dirty way of giving the audience a sense of stakes re: the PresAux mission.

In the book, the only exposition we get on the mission is that Preservation Alliance is considering buying a share in the planet's resources--and we don't need more than that, because SecUnit doesn't care why they're there.

SecUnit is not curious about why these humans are insisting on sticking around in this clearly dangerous situation, because from its perspective, that's normal human behavior. (In most of SecUnit's experience, the people exposed to the danger would be hired/indentured by the people making the decision to continue the mission, and either can't choose to leave without facing economic ruin, or can't choose to leave at all. But we don't start to see it really thinking about that until the third book, when it's on the indenture transport as Security Consultant Rin.)

On TV, however, we aren't in SecUnit's head, and therefore the audience is a lot more likely to wonder about things SecUnit doesn't care about, such as why the PresAuxes stay in this dangerous situation. "Scientists being scientists" would work for the portion of the audience that knows this about scientists, but it's not unreasonable that they'd want something a little more solid.

And since we already know that the Corporation Rim sucks, and that these people don't suck, having them be in opposition to a faction back home that wants to join the CR, is very efficient--30 seconds of dialogue, and we, the audience, both know about the stakes and care about the stakes. Something more complex and nuanced would take a lot more screentime to set up, and in TV, time is money.

So yeah, I don't love it for what it implies about PresAux, but it makes sense as a storytelling decision. And that same decision can continue to provide stakes as the future seasons (if they happen) adapt the later books--it gives us a reason why exposing what GrayCris is doing is directly relevant to the characters we care about, and a way that they can meaningfully succeed, other than the results of a court case that happens somewhere way offscreen. The payoff will be when the people of Preservation Alliance vote, overwhelmingly, to remain independent.

(I can also see it vastly simplifying the setup for SecUnit making its documentary about how life in the CR sucks. IIRC, there's a lot in that book that would be very difficult/expensive to translate to TV, and having it make the documentary for the people of Preservation Alliance would be a lot more efficient and easy to follow, versus how the books set up a whole new group of people who are voting about whether to join the CR, get us to care about that new set of people, explain their backstory, and finally have them make the decision.

In general, I also suspect that--again, if the later books are adapted--we're going to see the PresAux team appearing in plots that, in the books, involve whole new characters. I'm doing a readthrough now, and kind of looking at how they could do it. I really hope that we get the Artificial Condition plot--SecUnit as Consultant Eden, on the planet where the massacre happened, doing security for the group of small soft people with multicolored hair--because I think it's very important for character development that it goes off on its own and works with another group of humans that it also sorta likes, then chooses to go back to help the PresAux people with their fight against GrayCris.

But then it wouldn't be too bad if it ran into the PresAux folks again at the planet with the fake terraforming/actual Strange Synthetics mining operation, rather than a whole new group of people (who are sort of similar to the PresAux people, TBH). There could even be an identity porn thing, where it pretends to be a different SecUnit, contracted to Security Consultant Rin. (The books do very briefly mention that SecUnits have different facial features based on their cloned human tissue donors, but the series could change that--so they don't have to hire additional actors to play other SecUnits--or maybe the PresAux people simply don't know.) They'd probably have to get rid of the Miki character, but it would be a huge balancing act, translating her to TV without going full JarJar Binks, so that might not be so bad.)

I am not sure what to think about the fact that the Murderbot tv show made all the PreservationAux humans naive, silly hippies....... when in the book series, that's exactly stereotype people from the Corporation Rim have about indipendent planets.

Murderbot starts the first book specifically thinking that PreservationAux has to be a shitshow, cause that's what media and propaganda taught him. And then it meets these humans that are smart and competent and kind (and even tho it takes it time to trust them and love them, it admires them pretty much imediatelly).

And yeah the kindness feels weird to it, because it is used to the hellish Corporation Rim standards where everyone is either trying to rip each other off, or they're always fighting because of the stress of their bosses trying to rip them off.

At first I wanted to excuse the human characters not being as emotionally intelligent as they are in the book by thinking the tv show wants them to evolve along the way, and yeah, that could still be it....... but, it really goes too far. This is depicting them as stupid. They’re not meant to be stupid.

(Also, while we’re on the subject, why would parties inside PreservationAux want to join the Corporation Rim? What’s that plotline about?? They are happily living in a communist utopia, they really much Know Corporation Rim sucks! I don’t want to read this as Apple being maybe a bit Touchy that the book series is very much a not-veiled-at-all criticism of the capitalism Apple itself represents but…. Mmmmmmmm)

[itsncthingpersonal]

"Yeah? That'd be wicked." A sense of relief washed over him after being invited back, glad to know that his rather unfortunate first impression had been overlooked by the other. It might even become a memory they could laugh about one day whilst recalling it to others. How did they become friends? Well...funny story. "I'll definitely swing by sometime." There were plenty of videogames he was already eyeing up, determined to experience them as they were plunged into darkness once more, but most importantly, it was the thought of getting to know Russell more. He was a right character. From already knowing about the supernatural, to being completely unfazed by a vampire throwing up black sludge everywhere, then teaching him about a new console, he intrigued Rudy. There was definitely more to him. And it would be a real shame to part ways without catching up again. So the vampire pushed the boat out and offered to walk Russell home, mirroring the same smile he received as it was accepted.

"Brills. Yeah, I'll wait outside...no rush, mate!" Without thinking, forgetting about what happened before, Rudy reached out to give Russell's left arm a friendly squeeze. That was his force of habit, and it was only after he pulled away and stepped outside, did he realise and silently cursed himself. Even though the other male had reassured him that it was okay, there was still a part of Rudy that worried he was overstepping. But he'd always been prone to connecting with others, whether that was giving them a pat on the shoulder, offering them a hug, or even leaning into their space to show them that they had his entire attention. Despite what happened to him, the pain and suffering growing up, all he knew how to give was kindness. He never wanted to be like his dad, determined to break the vicious cycle, by trying his best to be good everyday. Even on the days where he felt nothing but anger, clouding his mind with a red mist, Rudy caught himself before letting it consume him. It was something he constantly worked on getting better at.

"All done?" He commented as Russell finally appeared to complete his final checks, pushing himself away from the wall he was leaning against to stand besides the other. Glancing up at the shop sign once more - HIDDEN GEMS - he committed the name to memory, making sure to note down the location for visiting later. "Cool, let's go!" Stepping aside to give him room, Rudy fell into step with Russell as they started off down the street. The streetlights were bright, highlighting most things in a warm hue, and giving them some visualisation for what was ahead. But the vampire had night vision, so he could see everything clearly, even down to the minor details. It was always calm at this time of night, and he often drove around without a destination in mind, simply for the serenity of an empty city. There was nobody else around, which should have been unsettling but instead, it provided a sense of ease. At least no more hunters were lurking around.

They fell into easy conversation on the walk, which did turn out to be short, as his street came up sooner than the vampire anticipated. Or maybe he was that engrossed in their conversation that he didn't realise how much time had passed. "Oh, is this you?" He remarked as they paused outside a property, before turning to face Russell with a crooked grin. "Sweet! Well...thanks for everythin' again-oh my god, it's Erika." Glancing over Russell's shoulder, he was bewildered to see the stark blue of his Ford Escort MK3 parked haphazardly half-way down the street, her tyres mounting the pavement. "Sorry, that's my car. I wondered where I parked her!" Out of every single street and she ended up here; a weird coincidence.

"Anyway," he laughed, reaching into the right pocket of his leather jacket to fish for his car keys. They jangled as he pulled them out, partly due to the many quirky keyrings he had attached to them. "Thanks for everythin', Russ. You really didn't have to do that for me, but you did, and I'm super glad to have met you, yeah? I'll come visit the shop sometime!" Taking a few steps back down the property path, the vampire gave a little wave as he made to depart, before faltering for a few seconds, seeming to contemplate something, until deciding to turn back around again and stand in front of Russell.

"Do you want to swap numbers? Stay in touch that way?"

"Y-yeah, it, it was, it was, well, I can't really compare be-because I, I never, I never knew any, any dif-different," Russell said, "But I'm, I'm sorry that, that you, you didn't, you didn't have that..."

Russell knew it wasn't his fault of course, but he still felt that he needed to express sympathy in some sort of way. He doubted that Rudy wanted to hear about his own family experiences either. Not when he was doing something fun.

"It's, it's, it's real amazing to, to see how, how far Mario and, and Donkey Kong and, and their character designs and, and their games have, have developed over, over the years," Russell said, "And, and Mar-Mario himself becoming one, one of the biggest faces in, in gaming. But, but I, I can un-understand what, what you mean. I, I think a, a lot of people like, like a, a good pace. You might, you might enjoy a brawler or, or a shoot 'em up in, in that case as, as well."

Russell fell into quiet once he placed the little chart up on the wall so that Rudy could look at it and concentrate on learning and playing the game. Russell couldn't help smile when he saw that Rudy was enjoying himself though.

"Oh, heh, well, I, I play plenty when, when I get home and, and when it's a, a slow moment in, in here or, or the cafe, I'll, I'll get out one, one of my, my handhelds and, and play on that," Russell said, "And, and it's nice to, to meet like-likeminded people who, who enjoy them too."

But then he allowed Rudy to continue to concentrate. Russell busied himself with various small tasks around the shop, just to make it easier for those on shift tomorrow while he had his day off. it was a good coincidence that it was his day off tomorrow.

"No, no problem. I'm, I'm glad you, you did," Russell said with a small but genuine smile, "Heh, well, I'd, I'd most likely end, end up being awake even, even if I, I was home. So, so you don't, you don't need to worry there. But, but I guess it's, it's a good point, I, I should, I should probably try, try to get, get some sleep. As, as long as, as you'll, you'll be okay."

He rubbed at the back of his neck briefly as he started to get lights turned out again.

"But, but you, you're welcome to, to come by when-whenever you, you want," Russell said, "I know, I know it, it wasn't um, id-ideal for, for you at, at first, but, but it has been real, real great meet-meeting you."

But then that smile widened just a little, and it even caused the corners of his eyes to crease up a bit.

"Oh not, not too far. We, we can walk," Russell said, "That, that would, that would be nice. I'll, I'll just, just get all, all locked up real, real quick and, and then I'll be, I'll be with you, ok-okay?"

[twig---verginix]

thinking about season 3 this morning. as a viewer, the introduction of the "Jennifer incident" felt almost cheap, at first– it's so painfully not present in any previous seasons that peels back the layers a little bit, forces you into blinking and saying heyyyyyy. you're making that shit up now. >:/. But I think it can work diegetically, even if it wasn't planned.

It presents it this way: not only has fucking with the timeline forever impacted the present world that these characters reside in and the only other people they'll ever interact with, but it's also impacted their past, their story. Not changed, per say, but more unlocked it. Like taking different actions in a video game and getting more dialogue. And it drives the viewer away from the Umbrellas in the process, widening the gap between where we are and where they are, knowledge-wise, which arguably does a nice job of adding to that off atmosphere that Hotel Oblivion seems to be going for.

[fragmentedblade]

I've been reading about xiangqi a bit and now I'm even more obsessed with that one video of Jing Yuan