#might even start chasing them down the street if they don’t back off right away

[zootopiathingz]

Mario and Daisy have such strong sibling energy. They can roast each other and purposefully make each other mad all they want, but the second someone else even looks at one of them funny the other goes apeshit and won’t hesitate to beat the living crap out of them

[tasteracha]

a/n: minho puts a vibrator in you and makes you ride his thigh idk there is no plot here. i wrote this in 20 mins. smut - MINORS DNI.

this might have been the most stressful car ride of your entire life. every single bump, turn, and stop of the vehicle sent pangs of want pulsing through your core, and the worst part is that the toy wasn’t even on the highest setting yet. 

minho had handed the thing to you as you were walking out of the door and watched with hungry eyes as you slipped it under the hem of your sundress, past the lining of your underwear and into your hole with a slight shudder. it was the kind that settled right against your spot, curving perfectly, with a piece jutting out that nestled against your clit. it came with a remote control that minho tucked into his pocket with a smirk and a wicked glint in his eyes. 

he had kept you at a low buzz as he drove down roads, speeding through yellow lights and jerking at stop signs just to see your reaction. he was a good driver usually, so you knew he was doing this on purpose, the fucker. 

he turns it off when he parks at your destination, a busy market street that the two of you liked to frequent to window shop. he was kind to you when you were walking in public, only slipping his hand into his pocket when you got too comfortable with the sensation of the toy inside of you. you nearly forgot about it several times until he’d hit you with a series of quick buzzes that makes you stop in your tracks and press your legs together. you could feel wetness building in your core, dripping onto your underwear and you prayed that it wouldn’t start dripping down your thighs. as much as he would enjoy it, the thought of the sensation made you cringe in disgust. 

it’s only when you both return to the car in a secluded parking garage that he takes out the small remote and runs his fingers against the buttons. every time his nail catches on the button that raises the vibrations you tense up, but he repeats the motions again and again until you relax into the carseat. the click of a button echoes through the entire car when he finally presses it, and you’re embarrassingly close to coming from how on edge you’ve been for the past hour. 

he knows - of course he does. he knows you better than he knows himself, can read your body like it’s a worn out novel on his bedside table. he turns off the vibrator when you’re reaching the crest of your peak, and you’re left clenching around the toy as your high escapes you. you try to chase it but it runs faster than you can move your hips, and you collapse against the seat with a groan. 

“come here,” he pats his leg and pops back his seat as far as it can go, making room for you to fit between him and the steering wheel. the angry retort on your lips dies as you meet his eyes and see the possessiveness in them; he looks close to feral. you take a glance outside the windows to make sure that no one was outside before climbing over the central console, trying to climb into his lap. 

you want to be wrapped around him, you want to feel his comforting touch against every inch of your hypersensitive body, but he pulls you away when you try to press close. he pushes you to the side until you’re straddling just his thigh, and the hard muscle there pushes the toy closer to your clit and deeper inside of you. your dress falls to the sides, leaving your thighs touching the material of his jeans and your soaked underwear definitely staining them.

he turns on the vibrator again, pushing it to a higher setting than you’d been before, and the moan you let out was borderline pornographic. you don’t have time to feel embarrassed about it because he throws the remote into the cupholder and wraps his fingers around your hips in a tight grip. he pushes you back a bit before pulling you back into him, over and over until it clicks - he wants you to ride his thigh. in a public parking garage, where anyone could walk in and see your desperation and helplessness. the thought makes your entire body burn and you can’t help the way your hips jerk along with his movements. 

it’s absolutely euphoric, the way he’s gripping you in a way that will leave fingerprint shaped bruises on your skin paired with the vibrator buzzing against your clit and rumbling inside of you. you can’t think of anything other than the searing pleasure building up inside of you and you don’t realize that your eyes have fluttered shut until he moves one of his hands to grip your chin, keeping your gaze pinned on him. 

he looks wrecked just watching you, his lips parted and his eyes unblinking as he watches you fall apart. you come with a full body shudder, your eyes rolling back into your head as you lose your balance and fall into him. he keeps the vibrator on as you ride your way through your orgasm, and he wraps his arms around you as overstimulation starts to set in. you squirm, trying to escape the near painful pleasure sparking through your belly, but he keeps you pinned to him until you start to cry into his shoulder. 

you don’t see it, but you know he’s smiling at your cries; there’s nothing he loves more than bringing you to tears from pleasure. 

he turns it off after a few moments and your body melts against his, your limbs feeling like jelly and your head fuzzy like cotton. you bury your head into his neck, the collar of his jacket digging into your cheek and the smell of leather invading your senses. he strokes your back until your tears stop, whispering praises into your hair in between gentle kisses. when you gain some control of your body, you shift a little and you can feel the slick that’s collected between your legs. you wince and let out a little whine, and he shushes you and presses a final kiss to your forehead. 

“i’ll run you a bath when we get home, angel,” he promises. 

“mm,” you agree, nuzzling against him. “but i’m not moving for at least another ten minutes.” 

[ponderingmoonlight]

Levi being separated from his wife for years after joining the scouts but finding his way back to her

Pairing: husband!Levi x fem!reader

Word Count: 2,7k

Synopsis: Just before Erwin was about to catch you in the underground city, Levi begs you to stay behind and promises to return. Years pass, years in which he never reached out once. Until an unexptected visitor knocks on your door.

Warnings: heavy angst to comfort, the last part is not proofread so have mercy, please let me know what you think as this is the second aot fanfic I'm posting <3

Tags: @lees-chaotic-brain @sanicsmut @levislegislation

Click here for a cute little spin off

You move with almost frightening speed around the countless buildings, escaping the hands of the blonde male behind you by razor’s edge. Why the hell are the survey corps so much stronger than the military police? So skilled with the 3D manoeuvre gear that it’s almost scary, haunting after you so fast that it’s getting harder and harder to escape their grasps. But everything is going according to plan, right? You need to get yourself caught, you need to join the survey crops, you-

“Move to the left. Just keep going and don’t look back. You are skilled enough to escape them alone.”

Your glossy eyes dart towards your husband in disbelief. No, he can’t be serious about what he just said. That would mean…

“But we’ll get separated”, you argue.

Levi is fully aware of what he’s asking from you. But given the neck-breaking speed and the skills of the people behind you, the risk of getting caught is greater than the benefit of staying together. And that man…Even though he promised you the world, Levi could tell by the sound of his voice that he isn’t trustworthy. He might go to hell, he might die in the process, but you.

There is absolutely no way in hell he’ll risk your life.

At least you’d be safe, even if it means he’ll be away from you for some time.  

“I never intended on taking you with me, (y/n). If we’ll get separated, I will come and find you here. I promise.”

His words don’t make any sense while you shake your head in mistrust. But you agreed on going together, all four of you. Why would you stay behind, why would he even suggest something like that?

“(y/n), I don’t want to lose you because of a mission. Please, move left.”

You don’t know what to do, mind completely clouded by anger, fear and uncertainty. You would trust your husband with everything, laying your life right into his hands. But this? This means you might never see again, this means he’ll leave you here for who knows how long, this means your husband could lose his life for freedom.

“But what if I lose you?”

“You will never lose me. I promise I’ll come back to you, just trust me with this one. I love you, (y/n).”

You take a deep breath, the next intersection coming closer and closer. It’s time to make a decision.

Will you move left like Levi begged you to or will you move right and followi him like you initially planned?  

With a load of gas you propel yourself past a building, moving with horrendous speed down the tight side streets of the underground.

One last glance. One last glance into the eyes of the man who is the only light in your life, one last glance into the cold blue eyes of the man who is now chasing after him.

“You better come back to me, Levi Ackerman”, you mutter to yourself while holding back bitter tears.

-a few years later-

“Take it or leave it. I will find someone else who’ll buy it.”

“Are you up on sale too?”

That’s enough. With a swift motion, you pierce through the man’s dirty hand with your knife before turning around and leaving his house in company of his pathetic screams.

It’s been years. Years since Levi go taken away from you by that blonde man with blue eyes, years since he promised that he’ll come back.

But he never did. With fast and skilled motions, you swing around, making your way back home before the military police starts getting on your nerves again.

Everything seems so cold since he left. Your worn-down house, the bed you used to share, your whole fucking life. Who knows what happened after they got caught. Are all of them still alive? Maybe something went wrong, maybe they die-

No. You shake your head vehemently. This is simply not possible. Levi Ackerman would never die through the hands of a titan, let alone a member of the survey corps. That’s absolutely impossible, unbelievable to say the least. Maybe he started a new life on the surface with his friends, lying under the sun right now while eating the most exquisite food.

Good for him. If you weren’t still stuck in this hell.

A few harsh knocks on the door rip you out of your dreams.

“Who the hell is this?”, you grumble to yourself.

You don’t expect any visitors today. To be exact, you never expected anyone to visit you. So who could this be? The man you threatened before? The military police officers you stole from? Whatever, you will figure it out somehow.

But when you open the door, you aren’t greeted by the face of a disgusting officer. No, you stare right into ice-blue eyes.

“When will you finally let me get her?”

He missed you every single day since you parted your way back then in the underground city. How are you? What are you doing? Are you even alive? Levi’s hands clenched into fist just by the thought of it. Countless lonely night that felt so empty without you by his side, countless people he lost during the process. If you knew what happened…

“Is a woman really that important to you? She must be someone really special if you’re still asking about her”, Erwin commented, staring at the captain sitting in front of him with eagle eyes.

Yes, he does remember you. The girl who took the left path back then, the only one him and his squad weren’t able to catch.

“She is my wife. If you don’t allow me to get her, I will quit my service”, Levi suddenly barked at his commander.

How unexpected. Even though Erwin could tell that you’ve meant something to him when he decided to leave you in the underground city, he never thought his relations to you would go that deep.

“Fine, if that’s what you wish I’ll go and escort her.”

“I will get her myself-“

“You have a job to do, remember? I will take Moblit with me, it shouldn’t take long, given she cooperates.”

Did he even have a choice? One look into Erwin’s face showed him more than urgent that this is nothing to be discussed. And even though he hates to admit it, somehow Erwin is right. These brats were unpredictable, along with Hange.

“Fine”, Levi finally grumbled.

As long as you’ll finally be back in his arms, he won’t complain.

“You”, you hiss through gritted teeth.

Your whole body begins to tremble in thick rage, eyes darting right through his spoiled soul. His eyes haunted you in your dreams, how he talked to your husband back then, how they pushed his gorgeous face into the dirt. You will never forgive him. No, nothing in the world could make you forgive the blonde man in front of you who stole your life away from you so cruel.

“Where is Levi?”

“Maybe if you calm down-“

“SHUT UP”, you immediately interrupt the other man behind him.

“You will pay for all these fucking years I had to live without him. You will pay for every sleepless night, for every tear that I cried. You will pay with your own pathetic life!”

With a swift motion, you lower the knife out of your sleeve, ready to hit his carotid artery with full force.

Until you suddenly fall to the ground, the last thing you are able to see being this asshole’s boots before everything turns black…

“I…hate…y-“

Silence, darkness, nothingness.

“You didn’t have to hit her this hard. Levi will definitely make you pay for punching his wife”, Erwin comments dryly before gently lifting your numb body over his shoulder.

“His wife, huh? No wonder she’s so feisty, what a pain in the ass”, Moblit remarks.

“I understand her anger. After all, I hid her husband for multiple years from her. Let’s see how she acts when she wakes up…”

-back at the base camp-

“Who’s this woman?”, Eren mumbles into his best friend’s ear, staring at the lifeless female body laying in front of Erwin’s feet.

“They just came back with her. But nobody seems to know who she is”, Armin clarifies.

Everything hurts. Your back, your head, your limbs feel like falling off every second. You feel like hit by a horse…Did the military police catch you? Did someone come for you? Impossible…

You rub your head, lids blinking against the harsh light. Where the hell are you? And why is it so damn bright here? This definitely isn’t the candle in the middle of your bedroom.

You lift your trembling limbs off the ground, groaning when a new wave of nausea rolls over you. God, why do you feel so bad? You can’t even remember what happened last. You were at the underground, you made a deal with that asshole, you returned home, it knocked.

It knocked.

Your eyes widen in pure horror when his face lights up in your head. He. He was there. The man who stole your life from you, the man who took your husband with him.

“I’m glad you’re awake, he should return every minute-“

“You.”

Your eyes roam around without an aim until his cold blue eyes meet yours.

“You took everything from me!” you scream on top of your lungs.

The air around you heats up immediately, all the voices quieting down in an instant when your trembling index finger darts towards commander Erwin Smith.

“You took my life from me, you stole my husband and now you kidnap me! I’ve had enough, you’ll pay for all your sins, for how miserable you made my life! Do you know how many lonely nights I begged for him to return, that I even started praying for him to come back home to me? You promised freedom but caged me to the underground in my hopeless dream of him returning someday!”

Again, you shoot towards him with your knife in your hand. Fuck, you hate the way hot tears start to sting in your eyes and take your sight, but you can’t help yourself. This man in front of you is the epitome of living hell, the reason you suffered all these goddamn years. You aim for his neck, ready to slice him open like a fish along with a toe-curling scream that escapes your trembling lips.

“Don’t.”

The sheer force of a pair of fingers wrapped around your wrist is enough to make you stop. This almost sounded like…

“Levi.”

“I have to explain all this to you calmly. Please put down your knife, (y/n).”

“You have some fucking nerve”, you mutter under your breath, eyes darting towards him for the first time in years.

He looks just like you remember him, figure roaming over you for a few inches, eyes as calm as the ocean, hair neatly trimmed. Yes, he is just as attractive as you remembered.

And alive.

And this is the first time you see him, after so many years.

“Where have you been all this time, huh?”, you cry out.

You free yourself out of his grasp, now storming towards him.

“What about the promise you made back then, that you’ll return to me?”

Your hands push against his firm chest harshly, fists slamming over and over against his tight muscles while all he does is standing there.

“You left me without saying goodbye, without even thinking about me twice. Do you know how much I cried that day, how much I missed my fucking husband?”

Tears stream down your face like a waterfall, voice so hoarse that it’s hard to cough out a single word that makes sense.

“Why didn’t you come back? Why did you leave me in the dark? Why-“

He can’t hold back any longer. Before you continue your ramblings, before you are able to hit him again, Levi wraps his arms around you and buries his face in the crook of your neck. God, how much he missed this, how much he missed the simplicity of holding his wife in his arms.

“I love you, (y/n)”, he breathes against your ear.

You see stars, feel like fainting, want to push him away while all you want is to be held at the same time. Countless nights you imagined what it would be like to meet him again, countless nights you pondered about his life, where he might live, what he is doing.

And now he’s standing in front of you, pressing you tightly against his firm body while all you can do is break down and cry in his inviting arms.

“Back then, I have asked you to move left because I feared what lies behind the walls. And I was right, (y/n). The things I saw, the countless lives the titans took. Isabel and Furan, they… They died on our first expedition. It wasn’t safe to drag you into this world. Even if I wanted nothing more than to hold you in my arms again, I figured it would be easier to know you live as far away from the titans and me than being in danger…”

“You idiot”, you spit into the face you learned to love long ago.

“I would rather die by your side than live alone at the safest place. Don’t you understand that all I wanted was to be with you?”

Your words echo through his mind, the past years replaying themselves in front of his eyes like a movie. It’s been so damn long. He should have asked about getting you sooner, he should have moved hell and earth to get you out of the underground.

“I’m sorry about all those years, (y/n). You were the only thing on my mind this whole time, I was longing for your touch, for your presence. I wrote a list of things I want to show you. I know how much I’m asking for, but please forgive me, please be by my side right here and now.”

Is it really this simple? Is one look in his lovely face enough to forget all those years you’ve waited for him? Your heart pounds hard against your ribcage, all pairs of eyes seem to be set on you. What are you supposed to do?

“A simple sorry won’t take away all those years I’ve waited for you.”

Levi swallows hard, this usual cool composure slowly but surely breaking away. Fuck, he messed up. He should have gone after you immediately, he should have ignored Erwin’s advice. If you leave him right here on the spot…His eyes widen in thick fear. No, this would completely tear him apart. After all, you are his precious wife, the love of his life, the only reason he kept going despite all the people that died in front of his eyes.

“But I won’t live in the past with regrets. I was hoping forward for this day so long, let’s enjoy it.”

And then you return his hug, wrapping your arms around his ribcage like you used to. Levi lets himself fall into your touch, soaks in the decent smell of citrons on your clothes. God, how much he missed this, how much he missed you.

“We will never return to the underground, my darling. Your place is right here under the sun.”

You press your lips against his hungrily, soaking up this precious moment. This is exactly how you imagined your reunion. Maybe a few years earlier, maybe being escorted by himself. But god, you can’t help but get lost against his mouth, your fingers re-discovering the valleys of his well-toned body.

“Huh, what’s going on here? HUH, DID I MISS SOMETHING!?”

Levi slowly removes his lips from yours, cold eyes staring darkly behind you. You follow his gaze, looking directly into the way too near face someone wearing glasses.

“This is my wife, shitty four-eyes. Can you stop bothering her?”

“WHAT? You never mentioned anything about a wife! Oh, what a gorgeous woman she is! And you’re just as small as Levi himself. Huh, maybe that’s what comes with living under the ground, right? But don’t worry, you will be just fine here! Apart from some titans here and there, and maybe titan shifters and don’t forget those-“

“Shut.Up.”, Levi hisses through gritted teeth.

[henry7931]

Dealing With My Bullies

Asher:

These three right here; Kyle, Chase, and Jordan have spent majority of my life bullying me. I’ve put with years of name calling, being pushed down, and even having my head put into a toilet.

And I thought I was done with them the second I wrapped up with high school. But unfortunately, everywhere I turn— those assholes are somewhere.

I’ve tried to ignore them, complained to our school, even tried fighting back but for some reason they have it out for me.

So I’m deciding to take a more drastic measure— magic. Well I assume it’s magic, i don’t even know if this is going to work but at this point I’m desperate!

I found this old book of spells inside of a weird book store. The price on it was pretty steep and even the owner of the store warned me to be careful with it.

As I got home and into my room, I looked through all of the different spells that were available for me to plot my revenge. I mean I could turn them all into toads but where’s the fun in that?

Nah! I want something that’s going to shift the dynamics a bit. I want to hear at least one of them give me an apology.

I kept turning through the book when my eye caught this one spell called; ‘Body Transferal.’

My heart started to race a bit as I read what all the spell does, I can literally swap bodies and become one of them. Thats it!

I laid back in bed thinking about which one of the three I wanted to swap bodies with…

You have Kyle who I really think is only pressured by the other two to participate.

Chase who has been terrible to me could work but he’s not the real leader of their crew.

That leaves me with Jordan, the one who started everything. That’s who I’ll become, I’ll swap with Jordan!

I open the book back up and read all of the necessary things to complete the swap.

‘A stormy night, a silver bowl, plant seeds, a portrait of Jordan, and both of our names written down on a piece of paper that’s burned into the bowl.’

I pull my phone out and check the weather… it’s forecasting a big storm… perfect!

I gather all of the necessary things to perform the spell which was pretty easy.

I waited until the time recommended for the spell right around midnight.

I gather everything and start reciting the spell… I follow each step as listed and begin to burn both of our names into the bowl.

Lighting strikes close and I can hear thunder booming in background as I say, “Transfer our souls! I, Asher White and Jordan Gibson!” Over and over again.

Then a loud boom of thunder hits and the power goes off for a second. I close my eyes tight waiting for the spell to kick in.

That’s when the power comes back on and I open my eyes. I turn to my bedroom mirror and see my disappointed face looking back at me.

I take the Spellbook and I chuck it out my window since I’m slightly frustrated it didn’t work.

It was worth a shot I guess, I figured I might as well go to bed and just forget that I even tried something so silly!

As I fall asleep… I start having this weird dream. In it I find myself floating and somehow hovering over my body.

I start floating more and more away from it until I’m outside…

I’m passing streets for miles and I have no control of where I’m going at all.

I get a house and I see this other glowing ball shaped like a person floating right pass me. I can barely see what I’m looking at since I was still moving so fast. Thats when I get a window and see a bedroom with a male body sleeping face down.

Before I can even get a full picture of who it is, I’m forced into him.

That’s when I wake up…

My head jolts up and I feel so groggy. It takes a second for my eyes to adjust and my brain to catch up after that dream.

Almost an entire minute goes by before I can really take in my surroundings. Thats when it hit me… this isn’t my room!

I flip over on the bed and look down at my legs. They’re more tan than mine and my feet are bigger. I wiggle the toes attached to me just to confirm I now control them.

My memory of last night creeps in and then I realize— the spell, it actually worked!

I quickly get out of bed and rush to the closest mirror I could find. That’s when I see what I already expected. Jordan’s reflection looking back at me.

I pull of all of his shirt and start giggling to myself.

I say aloud, “I’m Jordan Gibson”

But then something else sinks in, the freaking Spellbook! I tossed it out my window last night!

I rush through Jordan’s room and put on some of his clothes quickly.

I grab his car keys and head out the door.

As I’m driving down the road, I can’t help but continuously looking at myself in the mirror. You see one of the biggest things I hate about Jordan is my secret lust for him. Actually my real lust for a lot of the jocks that went to school with me.

But in this moment, I don’t feel that same anger anymore. All I can think about is how after I find this Spellbook, I’m going to enjoy exploring his body.

I get to my house and I see my parents drive off. As they pull away, I pull up to the front.

I run over directly under my window where I see the Spellbook lying in the bushes. I quickly grab it and run off.

Before I get into his car I look up at the window and to my surprise I see myself looking down.

I grin up at Jordan who now learning that I have control of his body.

I see my eyes get big and screams. I almost walk away but instead I look around my neighborhood to see no one’s around.

I pull Jordan’s pants down and start shaking his surprisingly huge dick in front of him while sticking his tongue out.

He’s fuming and shouting but I can’t hear him the glass. I see him rush from the window and I bolt it to his car with his flapping all over the place.

I pull his pants up and star his car. He’s at my front door and charging for me (which is funny seeing my body that angry.)

I pull away just in time and head back to his place. I reach down and fondle his big bulge all the home.

I knew he was going to come here and I really didn’t need him to make a scene.

So I had to think fast, pull out the spell book and dig through until I find a ‘love spell.’

I go into his kitchen and I find all of the necessary things for the spell.

He hasn’t arrived yet so I pull his shirt off and start exploring his body. I grab on to his dick again when I hear a loud knock at the door.

“Oh you’re going to really love yourself Jordan.”

“You better open up!!” I hear my former voice scream.

I grab my new magical potion and walk towards the door.

I let him in and as he begins to charge at me, I lift up the magical potion and toss it right at him.

I close the door and turn around to see my former dazed. His face goes from straight anger to looking almost goofy.

“Asher… you look soo sexy in my body,” he says to me.

“Oh do I?”

“Can I please touch it?”

“Well Jordan you’re going to need to prove yourself to me.”

“Anything for you!”

He gets on his knees and grabs on to his former hands.

“Anything?,” I say with a mischievous smirk.

[lliminall]

yan!phantom troupe most to least likely to get you a cat | headcanons

tags: gn!reader, yandere, mentions of threatened violence against animals

pakunoda

she loves the idea! she even brings it up with you herself. she already likes cats and they always seem to like her, but she never thought about adopting one because of her unpredictable lifestyle. now that she has you, kept safe and hidden away in her home, it seems like a much more viable idea. she really does hate to see you so despondent and upset, and hates the thought of you being miserable all alone while she’s away, so bringing in a cat is a perfect solution to your loneliness. if you’ve been particularly good lately she may even bring you along to find one, either from a shelter or straight off of the streets.

machi

unlike pakunoda she won’t bring up the idea herself, but once you mention it she jumps right on top of it. not immediately, of course. she has to at least pretend to think about it and be cranky about it. really though, she recognizes this as a great opportunity to boost your mood and improve your opinion of her. she brings you a kitten because she thinks it’ll be good for you to put all your energy into raising it, and also because it’s just so cute. even if she won’t say it out loud. adopting the cat has a third, more unexpected benefit though. it ends up humanizing her to you, as soon as you see her cooing and petting the little baby when she thinks you aren’t paying attention.

phinks

sure. why not. that’s exactly what he thinks when you bring it up. he really couldn’t give a fuck about some fuzzy little animal living in the house, but if it’ll make you happy (and finally make you like him) he’ll do anything. the shelter employees are a little hesitant to hand one over when you walk in with this brooding, sketchy looking guy but none of them have the guts to outright refuse him, so you end up bringing home whichever one you want. he doesn’t ever grow to love the cat, but with time maybe he can learn to like it. just a little bit. maybe even let it curl up on his lap and get fur all over his track suit, if you gush about how sweet it is while he does it.

uvogin

another one who just doesn’t give a fuck. he doesn’t like cats, doesn’t dislike them, but if you really want one he’ll oblige. yanks one straight off the street and brings it home to you spitting and scratching like it’s life depends on it. the poor baby calms down a lot once you manage to get it out of uvo’s hands, but the cat never quite warms up to him and really only likes you lmao. uvo doesn’t mind though, he really only got it to make you happy, and as you later find out, to have a more convenient way to bring you back in line when you start acting up. all it takes is one off-handed threat towards the cat and suddenly you’re feeling a lot more cooperative. it is very cute to see him trying to pet it’s tiny head with his giant fingers though, even if the cat is less than thrilled to have him around

shalnark

shalnark isn’t thrilled at the idea of having a cat around, but he isn’t exactly opposed to it either. he just doesn’t really care about animals much. and the thought of a cat getting hair everywhere and jumping all over his desk doesn’t sound like the best idea to him. if you’re persistent enough, however, he might make it into a reward for good behavior. if you can make it a couple months without picking a fight or trying to break a window he’ll bring one home for you, but don’t think for a second that you can ever get away with acting out again. shalnark will not hesitate to threaten the cat to get your cooperation, and he’ll say it all with a smile on his face and a hand scratching the oblivious kitty’s ears. he’s another one who won’t ever love the cat exactly, but might grow to tolerate it. likes picking on it with a laser pointer or some other toy that it loves to chase but never quite catches

chrollo

chrollo isn’t too keen on the idea. he moves around a lot, and it’s enough of a hassle getting you from one place to another with no hiccups. throwing an animal into the mix is not an appealing idea to him, but it’s possible to get him on board if you’re very, very convincing, and by convincing I of course mean being as sweet and cuddly (and maybe even sensual) as you can stand to be. I think chrollo would initially plan to buy you some expensive pure bred, but if you asked for a shelter cat specifically he may be surprised to find out that he’s happier that way. there’s something strangely charming about this scraggly little stray you’ve brought in to care for and cuddle. with enough introspection, he might come to the conclusion that he sees some of himself in this cat; or at least, some of who he used to be. he’s another one who will use the cat to keep you on your best behavior, although I don’t think chrollo would threaten to hurt the cat, just to take it away from you if you aren’t obedient. he doesn’t want you to resent him too much, after all.

feitan

oh god. if you know what’s good for yourself you won’t ever even ask him for one. if you do, and he agrees, it’s for one reason and one reason only: to terrorize you into obedience. feitan will not hesitate to hurt this animal you love if he thinks that’s what needs to happen to win your cooperation. whereas some of the others may use those threats a bit emptily, feitan has absolutely no qualms about breaking a bone on this poor animal to remind you that it’s in your best interest to mind his rules, now. what makes it more disturbing is the fact that feitan seems to get along with the cat just fine while you’re not acting up, petting it and letting it curl around his legs while he’s busy. he’ll threaten to snap a bone or crush its windpipe while stroking it calmly, a wicked smile pulling at his lips. he knows how terrified you are of seeing this animal get hurt. you’ll likely never have the guts to disobey him again.

[undiscovered-horizon]

O Rubor Sanguinis - Kaz Brekker x Grisha!Reader

[vulgar language]

[Part 1 - Agnus Dei]

SUMMARY: The Black General docks in Ketterdam and the lives of all four of you depend on booby traps set around the city and whether you really are as powerful as you're led to believe. Standing face to face with the man who's been haunting your family for years, can you stop yourself from becoming a monster?

Kaz may not be the bear he likes to appear as.

WORDCOUNT: ~ 2.7k

>>Grishaverse-inspired playlist&lt;<

Inej is finally back. Her return has a strange property - it resolves one tension just to build another. But no one is expecting this day to go any differently. You don’t look for sunlight under grim, dark clouds.

“The ship docked,” she informs. 

Three pairs of eyes turn to look at you, watching in anticipation. Guilt and shame swirl inside your chest once again. From this moment on, they are your responsibility. Each bruise, cut and wound they will suffer is as if done by your hand.

You clench your fist to stop the hand from shaking and take in a ragged breath. “Let’s go over this one last time. The main goal is to separate Kirigan from the Second Army soldiers. Our advantage is that we know Ketterdam a lot better.”

“And we set traps,” Jesper adds with visible thrill.

“Exactly,” you point at him with a snap of your fingers. It’s the second best thing to saying ‘a point for you’. “You can’t take on Kirigan’s Grisha all at once, so send them on a wild goose chase through the city. They don’t know much about tactics, they’ll just throw whatever they have at you, for better or worse. While you’re boxing in the Second Army, I’m fighting the Black General.”

A moment of reflective silence falls among the four of you. Jesper, Kaz and Inej exchange glances, then their eyes return to scrutinizing your face. Something’s the matter.

“You’re actually going to kill him?” Inej asks with a hint of disbelief. It’s hard to say whether she’s sceptical you can do it or in awe that it might work, after all. Although the words came from her, you’re well aware that she’s voicing everyone’s thoughts - even your own.

A sigh escapes your lips as you look away from them for a moment. The anticipating stares feel like red hot cauteries; vultures waiting for any sign of their prey passing on. “Only if I have to. Kaz is right, taking down someone of his calibre may be brave but it is impossibly stupid.”

Brekker takes this as a cue to put in his own two cents. “They won’t make it easy,” his tone is harsh. “The Black General expects resistance. He’s not taking prisoners.” Kaz pauses for a moment, probably to accentuate the seriousness of the ridiculous plan they’re about to carry out. “No mourners.”

“No funerals,” the rest of you answer him in unison. It’s more a habit, a reflex, rather than a conscious effort. 

A sting appears in your chest - with a hand on your heart, can you honestly promise this to Kaz? That by nightfall you will not be the one buried underneath streets of Ketterdam?

Out of the corner of your eye you can see Kaz looking at the side of your face. Something’s on his mind, some thought that begs to be set free but he manages to keep it hidden. You don’t acknowledge this observation and leave the club, taking up one of the most reckless thing you could probably come up with.

The widespread panic started somewhere after the first detonation - when one of the Squallers got their face burnt off with phosphorus, causing all of the Ketterdam citizens in the vicinity to run around with a scream on their lips. Overlooking the ramming herd, the explosive did its job and Kirigan’s Grisha soon dispersed through the better portion of the city. Now they are a responsibility to be handled by Kaz, Jesper and Inej. The only thing you can do for them is trust that Veles is looking away from Ketterdam.

You weave the alleyways and streets of the grim city in search of Him. The sounds of fighting are once close by and other times distant. Each whine of agony, a moan of pain, makes your heart stop beating until you’re sure that the miserable shout does not belong to any of your friends. But you can’t know whether the next scream will not come from their lungs. That realization makes you clench your fist a little too tight, nails digging into your skin - the three of them are risking their lives, so you have a chance. It’s only fair that you put your fear on the farthest shelf.

With a newfound determination, you storm through the streets of Ketterdam, never paying attention to anything that doesn’t even remotely resemble the black robe of the General. People run past you but you shove them away. A flame flies towards the sky in a column of frenzy a few streets ahead of you. Not your circus, not your monkeys.

Then, the rim of heavy, black material flashes before your eyes right when it disappears around the corner. Anxiety once again blossoms in your chest but you stifle it, ripping it away from your soul and discarding it with a chunk of sensibility and compassion.

The alley is deserted. A narrow, uneven cobblestone road goes up and down, a true nightmare for a cart. A man dressed in all black is strolling through the street, unbothered by the widespread panic and fights across Ketterdam. Truthfully, you’ve never seen the Black General, only heard about him but at that moment, seeing the proud posture and elegant robes, you know it’s him.

“Черный батюшка!” you call out to the stranger.

He immediately stops walking. First looking over his shoulder, then turning around, Kirigan is facing you for the very first time in his life. Despite that, he knows you’re the rabbit he’s been chasing. The deserted street where no civilian will suffer, opponents that recognize each other at first glance - all of this seems almost fated.

“You,” he says thoughtfully, pondering the relatively unimposing sight in front of him. Then, a condescending smile creeps onto his face. “Finally.”

“Me,” you try to sound more unbothered than you truly are. It’s hard to say whether he’s buying your act. “Always and invariably, me.”

There’s no word of warning, not even a dishonest attempt at negotiations born out of courtesy rather than diplomacy - Kirigan does some complicated motion with his hands and suddenly there’s a blade made out of solid darkness charging at you.

But since it’s material, it must obey the laws of physics.

With barely a flick of your wrist, wispy flame, lilac in colour, wraps itself around the shadow, forcing it to change the trajectory of its flight. A thundering sound, a cloud of dust - the blade flies through the brick wall of a nearby house.

Something changes about Kirigan’s face. The condescending, cocky mannerism falters when he’s not consciously keeping it up. An expression of surprise, if not disbelief, dances across his features before he’s pulled back into the moment. No matter how stern and unbothered he may appear, you’ve already seen the General’s doubt in his own superiority. Playing into his broken confidence might just be the solution.

You shake your head in disappointment. “Why are you doing this to yourself, Alexandr? You know you can’t kill me with your power.”

Kirigan falls to his knees when you clench your fist, the same lilac smoke hovering around his body. He can’t move his hands and any attempt at conjuring darkness end with the shadows falling on the cobblestone in coal-like ash. In no rush, you stroll closer to him.

Standing maybe a metre or two away from him, you can see into his dark eyes - nervousness and contempt swirl together as though his human form is just a disguise, hiding a rabid animal underneath.

“I am both the rock and the tree roots that crumble it,” you begin in a condescending tone, “the mountains and the turbulent waters eroding them.” Slowly leaning down, you face him with merely a palm’s length between you. “I could be your god. I can make you beg,” you grit through your teeth.

Kirigan bursts into laughter, shaking his head in disbelief. “Do you really believe this nonsense? That you’re anything beyond a barking, toothless mutt?” Suddenly, his amusement disappears as swiftly as it came to be just a second ago. “You’re just like him,” he spits ouit. “Too weak to make a change, to be someone. I can help you, make you into something that matters.”

You take a step back. It’s both pathetic and impressive that a man rendered powerless claims to be the key to some inexplicable strength. The longer you look at Kirigan, to more you’re certain that he genuinely believes his own words; having gone through spirals of madness, he circled back to some twisted normality.

Kneeling before you, unable to defend himself in any way that matters, he's something of a prisoner - a man held hostage by mercy and vengeance battling inside your head. You could just... kill him. The curse that had haunted you and your family for centuries, it can end just like that - snap your fingers, flick your wrist, it doesn't take much.

You swallow thickly; a deep, ragged breath inhaled through your mouth. This must end, his reign of paranoia and delusion, but you know the day is yet to come - not here, not right now.

In a spiteful manner, you cross your arms on your chest. A cocky smile crooks your lips. Even if you don’t kill him, this is going to be equally satisfying. “See, батюшка, that’s the difference between you and me: you must be someone, while I can be anyone.” You shrug. Then you nod your head, silently agreeing with his words, although only a percentage of them. “You know, there’s a thousand ways I imagined killing you. Maybe I’ll increase your blood pressure, giving you a heart attack after a heart attack until the muscle finally gives out or slowly put more pressure on your skull until it pops like an overripe watermelon. I could also change the density of the air, making you suffocate for hours on end.” You sigh in defeat, throwing your hands up. “But you’re right, I am just like Mikhail. That’s the only reason why you’ll get to see another day.”

Before Kirigan has a chance to continue this pointless dispute, you kick the side of his head with all of the strength you can gather. With a loud thud, he hits the cobblestone road, knocked-out cold. Incapacitated for a moment but nowhere near dead. Although you have no way to be sure about that, something tells you that you got your message across and Kirigan is going to direct his delusion of grandeur elsewhere - at least for now.

“You know what’s the problem with chasing rabbits?” you say to the unconscious General. “There are bears in the woods.”

Some of your drink spills as you hit your glass with Jesper’s, raising a toast for all the tears you will not cry over your friends. You whine and laugh, feeling brandy running down your fingers. For tonight, it’s the only sorrow you’re going to suffer.

You’re drinking the alcohol while listening to Jesper’s tall story of how he brought down one of the Infernis earlier. He’s absolutely amazing at the craft, gesturing and adding noises to paint the picture. The tale is so engaging, you don’t notice Brekker’s eyes burning into you. Maybe part of your dismissal of his behaviour is because you’ve grown to know him a little too well - always pessimistic until his own skills are being evaluated. He will probably tell you words of impeding doom, revenge of the General, and although he will be right, you don’t quite want to think about the inescapable future just yet.

To your misfortune, as you think at the moment, Kaz gives Inej a meaningful look and she picks up on the silent message immediately.

“Let’s get another round,” she says as she pulls Jesper up by his arm. He doesn’t seem to mind, following her through the crowd to the bar.

Kaz leans forward, resting his forearm on the table. “You did the smart thing, letting the Black General live,” he begins.

The mention of the man in black robes makes you sober up immediately, his condescending smile flashing before your eyes. You finish the rest of your drink in one go, the glass clicks loudly against the wooden table as you set it down.

“Save that for the day he comes back all fucked off.”

He only scoffs, amused at your sudden lack of humor. You’re watching Kaz as he fishes something out of his pocket and places it in front of you on the table. A glint of polished golden surface - the watch.

Strange. It looks a lot better, newer, than you remember. With furrowed eyebrows, you look at Kaz but his expression remains unreadable. Cautiously, as if the pocket watch is about to bite your hand off, you pick up the keepsake. Pressing down the button on the top, the lid pops open. Your eyes widen in surprise - the hands are steadily moving around the face of the clock.

Your eyes snap back to look at Kaz. Something equally warm as it is flustering sprouts inside your chest. “You had it fixed.”

“It’s a nice watch,” he answers with a certain tone of indifference. But if he was willing to go this far about something he was supposed to just keep in his pocket, there had to be at least a speck of care behind his cold exterior. “There’s something else that might spark your interest. Come with me.”

The garden square is nearly deserted. Those who do walk through it, use it as a shortcut rather than a green area meant for leisure. Plantanetrees tower over you, their widespread crowns rustle as cold wind brushes against them. A leaf or two falls with a stronger gust, covering the neatly-kept lawn in reds and oranges.

In front of you is a bench - a park bench like there are thousands throughout Ketterdam. And yet, this one is unlike any other. It’s so uncommon, in fact, that you can hardly believe you’re standing in front of it. Your teary eyes read the plaque on the planks once more:

In loving memory of Kosomova Anastasia Fyodorovna. One mother’s sacrifice is worth that of a thousand martyrs. 

“Thank you,” you whisper to Kaz, your voice wavering with unconsolable emotions. His face is still stern, impenetrable, but he appears calm rather than somber. “She would have loved it.”

“Do you?” he asks immediately after.

A dry chuckle flies past your lips. Despite the tears running down you face, you smile - genuinely. “This is the nicest thing anyone has done for me.”

Kaz doesn’t say anything in response but neither does he leave. The two of you are standing there motionless, taking after the impressive plantanetrees rustling over your heads. Autumn wind brings stray raindrops with each gust, the oncoming rainstorm mixing with your tears on your cheeks as though they are one and the same. Gas lamps shine with dim, yellow light - not enough to brighten up the forgotten garden square. Despite the surrounding darkness, the plaque is still fairly legible as the lamplight cascades off the polished metal.

When the emotions finally settle down, you find yourself wondering about the imminent future you had been chasing away earlier this evening. Perhaps Kirigan has withdrawn but it is more than foolish to assume he has abandoned his mission like a wolf that disappears into the thick forest only to come back with the rest of its pack; the howling of tomorrow resonates in your ears.

“What happens now, Kaz?” you ask quietly.

He spares you a questioning look. “What do you mean?”

With a sigh, you look to the side to meet his gaze. “We’re in open conflict with the Black General. He might keep away for now but one day he’ll come back.”

Kaz slightly turns to face you with the rest of his body. The strange softness in his gaze disappears in favour of something cold and determined but never calloused; the same water that cleanses, drowns. “Then we’ll fight him again.”

The word ‘we’ brings you a sense of comfort. It’s a lovely sentiment - to not have to stare down into the abyss alone.

“You have incapacitated a handful of Kirigan’s personal guard and you’re harbouring a fugitive.” You pout your lips thoughtfully and nod your head. “I guess now it really is your fight.”

“You’re always my fight,” he states firmly, almost as if he is arguing with you. “Whether you like it or not.”

___

@pansexualwitchwhoneedstherapy @coldheartedmar @thecraziestcrayon

[toxicanonymity]

Good Morning honey, I was thinking about a request of Michael Myers x fem reader its starts with the reader walking down a dark alleyway at 11pm on Halloween and she gets pinned to the wall by the strength of Michael, thank you for blessing me with your posts❤️

Skin Alley

1.5k | Michael x Fem!Reader | 18+ NSFW

A/N: thanks for the great Michael ask, @megangovier20! 🖤 and thanks @dark-scape for encouraging me to try Michael POV some time. I thought this might be a good one for it idk.

WARNINGS: Dubcon? this is a sluttified-by-michael™️ encounter. Unsafe P in V. Brief dark fluff. Maybe knife play don't remember. (Doing these detailed warnings way later)

_____________________

It's Halloween. Michael Myers is lurking outside a bar when the clock tower strikes 11:00 PM. He’s only killed two people all night. He decides to move on. He's in the mood to stalk or chase. He doesn’t have a plan, but he has a general direction. He heads toward his childhood home. Michael cuts through Skin Alley and stops to watch a zombie couple cross the street. He almost follows them, but he hears his name behind him, echoing through the dark alley in the most attractive voice.  

“Michael Myers hasn’t even been seen this year. I promise I’ll text as soon as I'm home, ok?”  The sound of his name in your mouth makes Michael forget about everything else.

He ducks into a crevasse and watches you, transfixed. You're beautiful, with a quiet intensity. Your skeleton dress hugs your body in all the right places. You pull your sleeves down over your hands and look around nervously like you feel his presence. He can practically feel your skin prickle with goosebumps. Blood rushes to his loins at this thought. You rub your arms as if you’re cold and quicken your pace.  

-

When you’re about to pass by him, he takes one large step into the middle of the alley and cuts you off. You scream. It's a short, jump-scare scream, not a scream like you fully realize who’s in front of you. Michael watches your face drain to white as the realization sets in. You take a deep breath, and just as you start to scream bloody murder, he wraps his large hand around your throat and slams you up against the brick wall.  

You thrash pointlessly against his strength and try to yell. You’re stronger than you look, but still far too weak. He doesn’t even need to use both hands. His fingers tighten and you stop trying to scream. 

You’re so beautiful in the moonlight with your eyes wide and your heart racing under his fingers. He exhales and you stare, unblinking, like rodent prey, searching the dark eye holes of his mask for something human. You gag and he loosens his grip. Then, when you try to scream again, he grabs you by the jaw and lifts you up off the ground. He pins you with his other arm across your chest and your breasts swell against him with every heavy, desperate breath you take. He takes out his knife.  

“Please,” you say. “Please don’t kill me."

Maybe he won't.

Your eyes water and you whimper. You look even prettier crying. His massive hand dwarfs your face. The sight of his hand around your throat is getting him really hard. He presses his thigh between your legs so you’re straddling his enormous leg. Gravity forces the heat of your loins into him. You lean your head back into the wall away from his mask. With you pinned there by his body, he hikes up your dress, exposing one of your thighs to the cold air – Your spiderweb fishnets don’t do much. Your other thigh is pinned by the warm, hard length in Michael’s suit. He's only getting harder.    

Michael throbs against you, and the fear in your eyes is gradually overtaken by something else. Your pupils dilate into black holes and your face flushes. He brings his face closer to yours and slightly tilts his head, acknowledging the shift behind your eyes. No, he won’t kill you, he decides. Not yet, anyway.

He’s captivated. He’ll make you his right then and there. He’ll make you unravel. The air grows warm with dark energy as he fills the black holes of your eyes with something you never knew you needed but won't be able to live without, try as you might. Your warmth throbs into his thigh. His breath deepens.

You reach for his zipper. He eases you down to your feet while you unzip his mechanic suit, down past his tight, faded navy tee. He stops your hand at his waist and your brow furrows. You grope his hardness — It’s more than a handful for you. This sends a surge of arousal through his body. His hips force more of him into your palm, flattening the back of your hand against your dress. He wedges his thigh between your legs again and feels you moisten through the fabric. He inhales deeply.

He removes his knee and replaces it with his hand. Two large fingers feel along your damp seam, then he grabs the crotch of your fishnets. His knife slices them open in one swift motion, nicking your inner thigh with the point of his blade. Neither of you react to the blood. He lets the weapon clatter to the ground. 

He pulls his zipper down more and reaches in to free his monster cock. He’s rock hard for you. You gasp when you see it and a look of horror spreads across your face. This turns him on even more. He knows it’ll be too much. His veiny erection throbs angrily into his hand. He lifts you up with both hands and your legs wrap around him.  

He aligns himself at your warm, moist hole, then penetrates you. You’re so fucking tight and wet. You moan, but the tip of his cock is barely inside.  He growls almost imperceptibly, then his large arms adjust your weight and bounce you down on his cock, letting gravity sink you further down. You gasp and your face looks pained. He rests your upper back against the wall, then plunges his full length into you and you scream. You look like you were just stabbed - he knows the facial expression well.   

He covers your mouth with his massive hand. Your heels dig into his ass. His animal instincts take over. Most of his body stays perfectly still while his ass flexes and he fucks you at an escalating place. Soon he’s pummelling you violently with all his length. You groan and whimper and your eyes water into tears, which makes him even hotter for you.  

He moans softly into his mask as he fucks you. He puts his hands on the wall on either side of you and you wrap your arms around his neck. With all your limbs wrapped around him, Michael backs up slightly from the wall. Your weight is no burden for his super-strength, especially with you hanging on so tight. He uses his hands to bring you down when he thrusts into you, then up when he retreats.  

You begin to twitch around his length. You moan and whimper and he only fucks you harder and faster. Your face contorts and your sounds grow louder. Your walls clench down around his cock. He wraps his arms tight around you and holds you down on his hips. You groan loudly and he doesn’t muffle you. He plunges his obscene length into you hard and slow while you come on his cock.  

"Michael," you whimper. 

Satisfied with what he’s seeing and hearing, he allows his own climax, letting your tight, wet cunt milk his cock. He explodes into you, extending your peak. Every two seconds, he releases what would be a full load for any other man. When you’re both finished coming, he sets you down on the ground again and pulls out.

-

You straighten your dress and lean against the wall, watching him zip up his jumpsuit.  

Michael observes you. You're disheveled and spent with a rosy face, weak eyes, and a furrowed brow. He can tell you're already wanting more, even if you haven't realized it yet. He can sense it. He’ll let you live. You'll try desperately to fill the void he leaves, but you belong to him now and no one else will ever be enough. 

He bends down and picks up his knife. As he slowly walks away, he thinks about what’s in store for you. Your life as you knew it is over. You’ll become someone else. You won’t be able to stop thinking about this night. Your transformation is already beginning. That's at least as satisfying to him as killing you would have been. 

He’s going to follow you from a distance and find out where you live. But first, he'll pretend to go his own way. Before he reaches the end of the alley, he hears your footsteps racing to catch up.

“Michael!” 

His gut reaction is annoyed. He stops and turns only slightly, then his irritation turns into fascination. It's all over your face - what he did to you, it's taking effect remarkably fast. What was it about you that allowed you to imprint on him immediately? You position yourself right behind him, and he lets you touch his hulking back. Your hands slide up to his shoulders.  

You want.... a ride? Your audacity. . . and yet, he's so intrigued by this development. His first instinct is to throw you over his shoulder instead, until he decides what to do with you. But he considers the mutual benefit of you riding on his back, like a fish on a whale: allowing him to brazenly walk the streets, just dominating Haddonfield in plain view.

He relents and squats down. You jump up and wrap your legs around his huge trunk. He catches your thighs in his massive hands and adjusts your weight. His warm cum trickles out of you and dampens the back of his jumpsuit as he lumbers down the street with you on his back, looking for someone to kill.  

-

michael tag list: @rebel-blue @wolvesandvampires @ethanhoewke hmu to add/remove yourself.

[thetomorrowshow]

seven

empires superpowers au masterlist (not up to date)

this story takes place about a year after the end of ‘poisoned rats’.

cw: light eye horror

~

He’s still new to the whole going-to-work thing. It’s kind of like school, and Jimmy had never liked school, but it’s different in the way that he’s getting paid for his work. And it’s a decent bit more enjoyable than school—he’s learning about cars, getting familiar with the inner workings of machines, and he hasn’t properly had the chance to pop open a hood since he was a teenager and would help his dad with checking the coolant and whatall.

It’s nothing glamorous, but Jimmy really likes his job—more than when he worked as a call service agent, at least. Today he’d learned how to even the weight of a motorcycle, and even though he’d pinched his fingers between the exhaust pipe and the engine, his boss had praised his efforts and let him off early.

Scott usually picks him up from work—they’ve got a second car, but Jimmy doesn’t take his driving test until this weekend so he’s not really meant to be driving himself anywhere—but Scott isn’t free for another hour, so Jimmy meanders around downtown.

He used to live on these streets, so it’s more instinct and less purpose that leads him down to the park across the block from his old apartment building—now closed, he observes, for renovations. The park is lonely at this time of day, two rusting swings hanging silently and a plastic slide gleaming in the sun.

Jimmy stops for a moment, stares at the yellowed grass and bleached plastic playground equipment. He’d never allowed himself to go anywhere near this park, a spot of joy for the kids living in the rundown neighborhood.

He can’t hang here long for risk of being chased off by some bathrobe-clad mother, accusing him of being a predator, so Jimmy turns back to the main part of downtown and heads back in the direction of the mechanic. Maybe Scott’s patrolling in the area, can show off some ice tricks.

There’s a handful of other walkers starting to appear when he makes it back into downtown proper, mostly those returning to work from lunch and high schoolers skipping out of school early. Once upon a time, Jimmy knew how to blend in perfectly with this crowd. Once upon a time, he could never stay in one place for too long.

He slides in among them just as easily as he once might have, moving at the same speed and keeping to the common footpath. He keeps his eyes down and dodges anyone coming from the other direction without issue.

Which is why it’s weird when someone runs right into him.

“Oh, geez—sorry, can I—”

“Well, isn’t it great to see you!”

Jimmy blinks, flinches as the man he’d run into slaps him on the back a couple of times. He . . . he has no clue who this is.

His mind instantly cycles through various brutes from Xornoth’s manor, but this face doesn’t match any of them. This man is a bit stocky, straw-colored hair hanging over his forehead, thin beard a bit darker in color. He’s smiling widely, even as he takes Jimmy by the hand and starts dragging him off.

Jimmy can’t help it—some strange man is pulling him away and he panics—with a snap of adrenaline—

The man jumps back, Jimmy coming with him, as a chair is thrown out of the window of the building beside them, narrowly missing them. He chuckles, taps his nose knowingly.

“You aren’t getting me with that one! Don’t worry, I just want to talk. How about in that deli?”

He doesn’t point anywhere, strangely enough, so Jimmy just glances around until he sees a deli.

All the well-trained alarm systems in Jimmy’s brain are firing, but. . . .

Now that he thinks about it, there is something familiar about this man. Maybe it’s his cadence, or his eyes—

And Jimmy realizes with a start that the man is blind, his eyes clouded over, faded scars stretching across them.

He’s shocked enough that he lets the man lead him into the deli, grab them a table, and order himself a sandwich.

That’s when he notices that the man is not only blind, but has earplugs in.

“I’m sorry,” he finds himself saying loudly as the man tucks into his sandwich, “I think you may have mistaken me with someone else.”

The man winces. “You don’t have to shout, I’m right here,” he says around a mouthful of sandwich. “And no, Tim, I know who you are.”

If that isn’t ominous. And also the wrong name, though it once again scritches at the part of his brain that finds something about this man so oddly familiar. “Jimmy,” he automatically corrects. “Not Tim. And I really ought to get going—”

“Back to Scott?”

Jimmy freezes, halfway out of his seat.

“Because I’m pretty sure he’s patrolling around the East side of the city, y’know. Unless you want to call Lizzie. Pretty sure she’s not busy at the minute.”

The man takes another bite out of his sandwich, scratches his beard.

Jimmy’s stomach goes cold. How did he—how can—it’s—

“See Tim, there’s not a lot that I don’t hear about,” the man continues. “However, there is something that I need to know, if you wouldn’t mind answering.”

He needs to get away. Fight or flight has fully kicked in, and Jimmy needs to run. Jimmy raises his hand, ready to do—something, shatter his chair or collapse the table or hurt him in some way—but the man only tsks.

“Come on then, none of that. The three of us have got to stick together, really. Wouldn’t be good to start fighting, especially with the way Nine acts.”

Slowly, Jimmy sits back down. It’s not because he’s intimidated, he tells himself. His fingers twitch. He could kill this man in an instant, and no one would ever know.

The man puts down his sandwich in its wrapper and leans in, head tilted a bit to the side. “So,” he says lowly, “did you kill them?”

Jimmy knows, instinctively, that he means Xornoth.

And it’s not intimidation that makes Jimmy answer. It’s some strange feeling that he knows this man, and cares about him. Something familiar in the line of his nose and the color of his hair.

“Yeah,” says Jimmy in the same low tone. “Yeah, I did.”

The man sits back, a wide smile spreading across his face. “Good. I figured you did, y’know, but I was sleeping when it happened. You could’ve pulled a runner, y’know? Could’ve been someone else to get them. That wouldn’t have been right, though. It had to be one of their . . . erm, what did they start calling them? Subjects?”

Jimmy swallows, then mutters an answer in the affirmative. He keeps having to remind himself that he doesn’t know this man, as familiar as he is. How does he know so much?

“Right. Back in my day, we were ‘participants’. What a joke.” The man shakes his head, then takes another bite of his sandwich. “Well, thanks for the info. I won’t tell anyone, promise—well, I’ll tell Nine, but Nine isn’t much of a talker, so it won’t get out or anything.”

“Right,” Jimmy manages. He checks his phone; Scott should be coming to pick him up soon. He casts his eyes about, trying to think of anything to say to the strange man with white scars and earplugs.

“What happened to your eyes?” he asks eventually. The man smiles ruefully, one hand going up to trace over the scars. They aren’t precise in any way, some smaller ones littered around the corners, long ones down the middle. If Jimmy looks closely, he can even see the places the irises are entirely missing along with the scar, leaving the man with cloudy white streaks through his eyes.

“Let’s just say—next time those scientists of theirs have you on the table, make sure and ask ‘em to strap down your hands,” the man says. “Not that that should ever happen to you again, but you never know, y’know?”

Well.

Jimmy feels slightly ill, staring at those scars. Most of his aren’t self-inflicted, nor nearly as visible as those. Sure, he has one across his cheek, and a small one above his eyebrow, but they don’t usually attract much attention. Scott even thinks they make him look rather dashing. He can only imagine the stares and questions this man gets on a daily basis.

The stranger finishes his sandwich, wiping his fingers off with the wrapper. He stands, tips an imaginary hat toward Jimmy.

“Well, I’ll be off. The city’s a bit loud, don’t you think? Oh, and thanks for footing the bill.”

And then he’s gone, and Jimmy sits there in stunned silence until he shakes himself, heads up to the counter, and pays.

He tries to forget about the man. As weeks pass, he moves on, his days taken up by work and Scott and his friends. And he mostly does forget about the familiar stranger, too busy to spare the mental energy needed to try and figure out who he was.

That is, until one night, nearly a month later.

Lizzie had managed to get a hold of their high school’s yearbook from when she was a senior and Jimmy a sophomore, and together with Scott and Joel they paged through it, laughing at Lizzie’s galaxy-themed outfit and Jimmy’s unbrushed hair.

They stop on the page of the soccer team, and Jimmy knows from the coos and laughs that they’re looking at him and his ridiculous hair, but his eyes are caught on a familiar face.

“Who’s that?” he finds himself saying, pointing to the boy beside him, the boy who has his arm slung around his shoulders, the boy who—in one small picture off to the side, is knuckling Jimmy’s head.

And then he remembers.

He pages through the yearbook until he finds him.

A senior that year. One of his friends, and one of the only people who tried to still hang out with him after his powers got out of hand.

He’d almost completely forgotten about Martyn.

Martyn, the dude with the new Playstation. He’d been powered—not strongly, but with some fairly average super hearing and far vision.

Jimmy thinks back to the man he’d met, blinded by his own hands, hearing so intense that he has to wear earplugs at all times.

And then he wonders, dreading the unknown answer, what kind of mistakes had been made with the experiments before his own—and who on earth Nine might be.

[shejustcalledmeafish]

49, 52, 58 (self-sacrificial • fake death/presumed dead • crying) john/jack/ianto

Ianto was really tired of his boyfriend’s exes showing up and causing problems. It was even worse now that he had two boyfriends, one of them a previously mentioned problem causer. Now they were chasing a woman who had materialized in the middle of a road, and shattered a civilian’s windshield with her fuck-off huge sword when they swore at her for being in the way.

Both Jack and John had gone pale when they saw her face on the CCTV and Ianto sighed deeply before they all bolted for the SUV. Ianto had tried to ask who the woman was in the SUV, but the way Jack and John had been sitting, dead silent, tense shoulders, sharing occasional glances, well. Ianto held his tongue. Something had happened. Something bad.  He’d get the full story out of them once they’d removed the immediate threat. 

If only it had been that easy.

She’d run from the street and into the nearby park by the time they’d arrived. The police had arrived but one glare from Jack had them retreating to set up a barrier and do crowd control.

“Split up, search the area, don’t let her get away,” Jack barked, then took off into the trees, John on his heels for a few steps before veering off at an angle. Ianto sighed, locked the SUV, palmed his stun gun, then started to run as well.

The park wasn’t too large, but the trees were just thick enough that Ianto knew it might be a bit of a search. He wasn’t sure what he would do if he found her first. He didn’t know her history or what she wanted; he doubted he’d be able to talk her down. But he couldn’t just do nothing, so he ran, dodging tree roots, and searching for the woman and her massive sword. She couldn’t be that hard to find.

She wasn’t, which was why John found her first. Ianto stumbled into a small clearing to the clash of metal. Sometimes he almost forgot John carried a sword. It was sexy, sure, but rarely that practical. Even now, he was outclassed, a katana was not meant to equal a two-handed claymore. But John was never one for a fair fight, and Ianto saw a dagger in his right hand as it came up to block a swing of her blade.

For a moment, Ianto couldn’t do anything but watch as they dueled, neither seeming to gain the upper hand. His stun gun was no good from a distance, but before he could go for his handgun, before he could even consider putting a bullet in this stranger, it no longer mattered. John glanced to the side, spotted him, and for just a moment, faltered. It shouldn’t have been enough. But the woman closed the distance, rendering John’s sword all but useless, and John looked forward just as she drove the claymore into John’s chest.

“John!” Ianto realized with a start that it hadn’t been him that screamed, but Jack, bursting out of the bushes. John didn’t cry out, the only sound his own sword clattering to the ground. But a feral smile emerged as he swung his right hand up and plunged his dagger into her throat even as she began to draw her sword from his chest. She staggered back, her sword coming free with a horrible sound and collapsed, John’s blade still deep in her neck.

Jack rushed in, catching John as his legs gave out, but Ianto couldn’t help but stare at the woman, suffocating as she tried to bring in air through a passage blocked by steel. Her hand came up, trembling as she gripped the dagger and pulled it free. She pressed her hands to the wound, but it was too late, blood flooding over her skin and still into her throat. Ianto just watched, unmoved and moving, as she choked and died.

Ianto turned away only when Jack called his name. He had his hands pressed tight over the wound, barking orders to send an ambulance and get Owen and hurry. John was still conscious, barely, his breath coming in wheezes and gasps. As Ianto knelt next to his side, he tried to speak, but only blood came out, spilling over his lips. Ianto took his hand, and John squeezed it tight. Jack was frantic trying to manage the wound, and normally, Ianto would be too. 

But he could see it in John’s eyes, felt it in the way his grip began to go slack. He wasn’t going to make it. The blood was leaving him too quickly, pouring out with every frantic beat of his heart, seeping into the dirt. When his eyes fluttered shut, unconscious, Jack attempted rescue breaths, actual ones, better than he’d tried on Ianto before. But it wasn’t enough. 

He raised his head as a siren wailed into earshot, mouth slick with John’s blood, and met Ianto’s eyes. Ianto reached out and took Jack’s hands, soaked in that same blood. They didn’t move until the paramedics came and ushered them aside to confirm what they already knew.

When Gwen and Owen arrived, they took charge, clearing up things with the paramedics and the police, and arranging for transport of both bodies to the Hub. Jack responded when he needed to, but his voice and eyes were hollow. Gwen had hugged Ianto tight when she first arrived, but had been drawn away to her work. Ianto wasn’t sure if Jack wanted his comfort, not yet, but he would be there for him. His own grief didn’t matter, not in comparison to Jack’s.

That didn’t stop him from having to hold back tears as Gwen eventually drove them back to the Hub, Owen taking the bodies separately. Jack had taken his hand in the backseat, and Ianto had held him tight as they traveled, pulling him into his arms like he did whenever Jack had died. He didn’t have to ask to know that Jack wished he had died instead, how this could have all been just a minor inconvenience.

Hours passed, torturously slow and somehow all too quickly. And then Ianto was staring at John’s body, laid out bare and cold on the autopsy slab. Protocol was protocol, but Owen had quickly excused himself before starting, and now it was just him and Jack and only the two of them. Just like it had been before.

“Who was she?” Ianto said quietly, finally voicing the question that had been itching inside him since the whole clusterfuck began. Her body was tucked in one of the morgue drawers, waiting her turn on the main slab. Jack stood on the opposite side, and Ianto watched as he took a deep breath.

“Her name was Lupe. We ran a con with her back in the day, the way we used to do them. We betrayed her, she betrayed us, John betrayed me for her, she betrayed him for me, you name it.” Jack smiled, only briefly. “It was a good time. But it ended badly. Left her to die as a volcano was erupting badly.”

“I see,” Ianto said. Jack was looking at him guiltily, but Ianto had developed a surprising tolerance to their past atrocities. He knew Jack had changed, the guilt was evidence enough. John was a bit of a trickier case, but, well. He had been. “Do you think she came here intentionally for you?” Jack shrugged.

“Maybe, although I’m not sure how. She was just a fifty-first century civilian, not a time agent. Maybe it’s just a cruel joke by the universe.” This time, Jack did not smile. Ianto held his tongue on his next question. It didn’t matter if they had been lovers, any of them. It wouldn’t change a thing.

“I’m sorry,” Ianto said. He gripped the edge of the autopsy table, careful not to touch John. “I should have stopped her, I shouldn’t have—” Fuck. “I distracted him, Jack. She wouldn’t have been able to, if I had just—”

“Ianto,” Jack said firmly, and Ianto looked up. “This is not your fault.” Ianto let out a choked noise, feeling the tears coming now, too late to stop them. “She stabbed him, not you.” Another small smile. “As much as we might have wanted to sometimes.” Ianto wanted to laugh, but instead just cried. Jack was around the table in a second, taking him and holding him tight. Ianto just cried into his shoulder, deep heaving sobs.

Jack only stepped back when Ianto’s breathing finally evened out, forcing himself to breath deep and slow. He stepped away from Jack, and up toward John’s head. Ianto wished he could say he looked asleep, but he didn’t. He just looked dead. He bent down and pressed a last kiss to John’s cold lips.

“I’m sorry,” Ianto murmured. Then even quieter, so Jack couldn’t hear. “I love you.” He stood up, brushing a hand briefly along John’s cheek. “Goodbye.” Then he forced himself to step back. Jack took the suggestion without prompting, stepping up to have his own private moment.

If Jack said anything, Ianto didn’t hear it. But he saw the kiss Jack gave him, almost disturbingly passionate. John would have enjoyed it, and Ianto smiled even as he felt the urge to cry renew inside him. Jack stepped back and Ianto took him into his arms.

For a moment, they stood and watched him. Ianto’s eyes had come to rest on the fatal wound, marring his otherwise rather perfect chest. So he noticed quite clearly when the wound began to change.

He thought he was seeing things, and stepped away from Jack to look closer. The wound wasn’t just changing, it appeared to be healing over, and for a moment, Ianto felt hope flicker in his chest. The wound smoothed over with fresh skin, pink but not scar tissue. Jack had noticed too, peering over his shoulder.

For a moment, nothing else happened. Then Ianto saw a pulse start to flutter in John’s neck, and he started to breathe as his eyes shot open. It was so similar to how Jack revived that Ianto almost laughed as he felt his knees threaten to give.

John pressed a hand to his chest where the wound used to sit, then looked over, face puzzled. Ianto knew they must look a wreck, but he couldn’t help the smile that burst over his face. Jack gripped onto his arm, holding onto Ianto like it might all vanish.

“Did I get stabbed through the heart by Lupe, or did I just have the worst trip?” John asked, looking down at himself. “And did you take my clothes off or did I?” When they didn’t respond, he shot them a look. “You’re scaring me.” His tone was joking, but his eyes betrayed his doubt.

Jack let go of Ianto and rushed to John. He almost flinched away, but let Jack hold him. He patted Jack’s back awkwardly.

“Wow, you’d think I died,” John quipped, then wheezed as Jack’s arms squeezed him tight. He met Ianto’s eyes, and the next quip died on his tongue. “Fuck.” 

Ianto couldn’t help himself then, he took the few quick steps to their side. Jack let go of John just enough to allow Ianto to take hold of his face and turn it for a deep kiss. Ianto didn’t care what had happened, although he knew they would have to investigate. It was simply too good to be true. But for now, that was enough. 

[shit-enmu-says]

Phantasmagoria: Part 5

Notes: It’s been a while since I had the chance to write. This is basically me easing back into things. Keep in mind, Muzan who makes a cameo here has an agenda with the Tamio’s which is the only reason he’s being polite at all and that’s all I’m saying for the time being.

It had been a week since the autopsy was completed. In spite of what he witnessed Enmu kept his silence. He agreed with the initial conclusion that Sato had fallen off his boat and drowned, his body later scavenged by animals after it washed up.

Yet what he saw continued to eat at him. Every night Enmu returned to those woods in his dreams. Dark shadows chased him through the woods until he tripped and fell to his knees. Claws and sharp teeth tearing into his flesh, ripping his body apart until blood filled his mouth and he collapsed.

Once he awoke screaming. When Ayumu entered the room, cross at being roused from slumber so late at night, he had to weave yet another lie. It seemed like lying was all he did these days.

“Are you having night terrors again, Enmu? I thought you’d grown out of this,” he had scowled. “Ah, forgive me, Ayumu-san,” Enmu had replied, door just barely cracked until he was able to compose himself. “No, it’s not that at all. I saw a large spider craw across my work desk, but not to worry. Everything had been taken care of. It simply took me by surprise, that’s all.”

“All that fuss over a little bug? And you call yourself a man,” his brother had scoffed. Enmu’s hands twitched from where he had them clasped behind his back, as if itching to strike his brother across the face. However, he only smiled politely as he nudged open the door with his foot. “I thought it might have been venomous,” Enmu replied, “It’s gone now though. I caught it and put it outside, now it won’t bother anyone. May I brew you some tea to help you get back to sleep?”

“I don’t think anyone will be sleeping after that ear splitting shriek,” Ayumu complained, “but I’ll take the tea. Chamomile, no honey, and make it extra strong.”

The next morning Enmu headed to work in the dark. It was late September, the days were already getting shorter. September was an odd month. Summer still clung to life, most of the leaves on the trees were still vibrant and green. Yet the morning breeze had the slightest chill to it and smelled of frost. As Enmu turned down the street that would lead him to work, he collided with something solid.

He stumbled back to see a tall dark haired man before him. He appeared to be in his late twenties. His skin was paler than even his own, his eyes a deep crimson color. Judging by the ornate black and gold western style suit he was wearing, he had to be rich, yet Enmu had never seen the man in his life.

Mentally chastising himself for staring, Enmu bowed his head. “I apologize, sir,” he replied, stepping out of his way, “I was on my way to work. I should have payed more attention to my surroundings.”

For a moment Enmu could have sworn the man’s pupils were slitted, reptilian. Perhaps it was his mind playing tricks on him again. After all, he’d seen stranger things. The man said nothing, turning to walk away before stopping dead in his tracks. “You said you were headed to work, right?” the man asked.

“Yes,” Enmu replied, staring down at his boots. “Wait,” the man said, turning to face him,“Do you work here? At this clinic?”

“Y-yes, I just started as a matter of fact,” Enmu said quietly. He wasn’t sure he liked the way the man was staring at him. It wasn’t a leer, really. It reminded Enmu more of the intense stare a cat gives a cornered mouse. He had no idea what to do. Unless they were a patient, people usually ignored him. He took an uncertain step back. The man stepped forward. Enmu’s back hit the wall. Why do I feel the urge to run?

To his shock, the man held out his hand. “Shingetsu Koutsuki. You must be Dr. Tamio.”

Enmu stared at him wide eyed for a moment before shaking his hand. Why were they so cold? Not even his sickest patients had such icy hands, yet he resisted the urge to jerk back. Clearly Shingetsu was an important man, now was not the time to forget his manners.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Shingetsu-sama,” Enmu said, still unsure of what this was all about. “I’m the one who will be purchasing this building,” the man replied.

Buying the clinic? What was he talking about? Enmu’s confusion must have shown on his face. “I suppose your brother neglected to tell you about this,” Shingetsu continued, “He sold the clinic and the apartment above to me.”

“That place?” Enmu asked, “No one goes up there, not even me. It’s been abandoned for years since the old janitor who used to live there passed away. No windows either. Surely a man of your standing would prefer to live somewhere less gloomy.”

“It suits my needs perfectly,” Shingetsu replied, “There is no need for concern, Dr. Tamio. You will still be permitted to use the downstairs as a clinic. I only wish to renovate the building, as it is quite old.”

That was when Enmu remembered Ayumu complaining about a competing clinic opening up a few miles from them. “We are losing customers, we’re losing money,” he had rambled, “If we don’t do something soon the clinic may be forced to go out of business because we are not making enough money to continue running it!”

The building was old. Ancient in fact. Possibly the oldest building in this part of town, yet still functional and stronger than most. Their father always had said it would sell for a small fortune, but even during hard times never once considered selling it himself. “I love this old place, Ayumu. One day I will pass it on to you, as my father did for me, and his father did for him. I want ownership of that building kept in the family, understand?” Things must be even worse than Enmu imagined for Ayumu to consider selling the place to a stranger.”

“I understand,” Enmu replied, “Forgive me for my rudeness. My brother and I will do our best to run things quietly so as not to disturb you.”

“It’s perfectly fine,” Shingetsu replied. At that, he glanced over his shoulder. The deep violet of the sky was just beginning to fade to lilac on the horizon. Shingetsu’s eyes widened.

“Is something wrong, Shingetsu-sama?” Enmu asked. “No, nothing at all,” he said, brushing past him and hurrying up the stair well on the side of the building, “Good day to you.” With that, he unlocked the door to the upstairs apartment, quickly disappearing inside.

What a strange man.

[nerfpuncher]

Made With love.

Reader X Wrecker fic.

I have no idea if i am doing this right. I wrote the first half of this almost 6 months ago then found it this evening and decided ya know? Why not? So I finished it, proof read it lightly and here we are. 

its fluff people. Pure and simple. Cause i love that big goof so much and he deserves all the happiness in the world. 

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

You are a large animal vet that has befriended the Batch. You may not be trained on people, but it beats helping a Nexu birth a litter. 

Female Reader goes by the nickname Patches. 

I hope i am doing this right. 

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

Looking back, you would have never expected one small tooka to be the cause of your entire lifestyle being tuned upside down. Two months ago, you had been two glasses of wine deep when someone pounded on your front door with enough force to knock the calendar off the wall and spook you to the floor a few feet from your couch. Knowing what you know now, they could have easily just ripped the door off the hinges. Thankfully they hadn’t. You were greeted by a sight you had half thought a hallucination; a small blonde girl, sobbing her eyes out holding a small yearling tooka, surrounded by black armored clone troopers. The girl, thorough her sobs, had said “I was moving crates off our ship and didn’t see her, the crate fell and hit her and she cried and Cid said you might be able to help her”

 The rest had been history.

 However, you now found yourself in a similar situation with the youngest member of the Bad Batch.

 “He is gunna*hick* be so mad *sniff* at me!” Omega cried as she buried her face into your shoulder, her cries muffled by your coat as she you held her tightly, walking carefully through the side streets of Ord Mantell back towards the Marauder’s hangar. “He trusted me with her and I messed up!”

 “Omega honey, Wrecker is gunna know it was an accident. I don’t think any of us could have expected that pup to give us that much trouble.” You cooed softly, absent mindedly running your fingers through her hair. The afternoon had started off so simple, head down to the livestock pens and preg check a few Banthas for some side cash. In and out done in a few hours. That was until one of the stock yard’s massif pups decided that Lula would be the ideal play toy. Omega had been sitting on the fence panels, Lula in her lap when the pup reached up and snatched the doll away by a foot. After an hour of both of you chasing, a few stock hands, and a well aimed loop; you had managed to get the stuffie back.

 But the damage had been done.

 Lula now rested wrapped in a small towel in your backpack, well what remains of her. Both ears were gone, along with a leg and an arm. Most of her stuffing was gone and a lot of the fabric was shredded. Simply put, the wrangle had been body recovery. You had not been expecting this kind of aftermath, however. It was only as Omega clutched the dolls remains to her that you found out the doll had originally been Wreckers. Now the poor kid was more distraught over her brother’s potential reaction, no matter how you tried to sooth and calm her while making the hour-long trek back home.

 At times it was strange to think of the Marauder as home, seeing as you regularly passed your old house to get to it. After the tooka incident, that turned out only be a sprained paw and a quick recovery, The Batch had taken notice in your medical training. Even when you explained to them all that your training was on livestock and other animals, not sentient beings of any form. In the two weeks following, they showed up at least five more times on your doorstep. Turns out helping patch the guys up was a lot easier than helping a Nexu birth a littler. Not by much though. So when Hunter approached you and offered a bunk rent free, you took it.

 “I promise, if he gets upset, I’ll deal with him okay? I doubt it will come to that” Omega was now just down to sniffles as you set her down on the path leading into the Marauder’s hangar. Carefully rolling your pack from your shoulders you dig though to pull out the wounded doll and hand to her. She took the buddle, hugging it to her chest with a sigh before turning to lead the way towards the ship. Your heart hurt for her, seeing as she didn’t have much for kids toys and Lula had been by far her favorite. However, you doubted that Wrecker would be even close to angry with her. You had yet to see the big guy as anything other that cheerful. Well, there was that one time in the market when someone asked how much for Echo, resulting in Wrecker launching them across four vendor stalls, but he had not exactly seemed mad about doing it.

 As you rounded the corner to the hangar, you could see Echo and Tech contently fiddling with the ship, their bickering gaining volume as you neared. Meaning Hunter and Wrecker must have been inside. Omega had almost made it to the ramp when the tell tale sound of Wrecker’s boots coming down it filled the surrounding area. “Hey kiddo how was your trip?”  his excitable tone booming around them as he came to a stop at Omega, who was standing with her head down clutching Lula’s remains to her chest.

 You stopped just behind her, watching as Wrecker’s cheerful expression changed in an instant. “Omega are you okay?” Even his volume lowered, something that you had come to understand was very uncommon. He knelt down, big hands holding to the girl’s shoulders as he tried to figure out what had happened. Eyes flashing towards you once before he was about to speak, only to be cut off by Omega.

 “Im so sorry Wrecker, I wasn’t paying attention I was sitting with Lula on the fence, then suddenly she was gone-“ The last bit of her story came out as a sob, that quickly had the attention of the rest of the Batch. Echo and Tech poked their heads up from around the ramp, when as Hunter began to make his way down towards you. Omega tearfully looked at her brother, before opening the towel as carefully as she could to reveal what remained of Lula. “He just wouldn’t give her back.” She sniffed, presenting the demolished doll to her brother.

 You grimaced as Echo and Tech’s eyes alike widened at the sight of the obliterated stuffie. Hunter’s eye brows had shot into his bandana, before he looked straight at you. All you could do was shrug, “Massif pup at the yards got a hold of her, took us a bit to get her back; why we are as late as we are.” You explained gently, trying to be somewhat sensitive to the situation. Before you, Wrecker had simply stared at Lula for a moment, before taking her into his hands with a gentleness you didn’t realize he was capable of.

 He held Lula carefully as he could, but even them a small glob of stuffing fell onto the floor. His eyes locked on the now green stained face of the doll, you could have sworn you could see his good eye get teary. However, he recovered quickly when he looked up at the sniffling Omega. Grabbing her and pulling her into his embrace. “Its okay kid, accidents happen and that Massif just thought she was so great he had to play with her too.” It was a great recovery, causing Echo and Tech to visibly sigh in relief. “At least you two managed to get her back! Patches can fix her up for us!”

 Oh now this might be a problem.

 Before you can even begin to rebuttal that comment; Hunter finally speaks: “ Well, the rescue mission was a success it looks like to me. However you are an hour over due and it’s time for bed” Omega looks up at him from were Wrecker is still hugging her, nodding her head silently before breaking away to follow the Sargent up the ramp and into the ship. *thank Maker he knows how to deal with this better than me*

 But you were not off the hook yet. As Echo and Tech both climbed up onto the ramp and into the ship, Wrecker stayed still. Omega now gone you could see that the dolls loss was a bit more of a big deal to him than you would have realized. He still held tightly to the fabric, standing about as still as you had ever seen him on the end of the ramp. *this is why you chose animals* you though to yourself, as you approached the large clone with the same caution you would have used on a mother Nurf.

 Before you could even begin to apologize. Wrecker’s gaze shifted from Lula to you. Never in your life had one look broke your heart the way his did. There were unshed tears in his eyes, his shoulders slouched. You understood his reputation. The muscle of the group; however much like the large pulling bred equus, Wrecker was one of the sweetest and most emotional of the batch. Very much making up for the distance his brothers often maintained. “You can fix her, right Patches?”

 He had been the one to start with your nickname, after watching you spend nearly three hours carefully stitching Hunter back together after he lost a fight with some kind of barbed plant. He looked down at you, as hopeful as he could possibly be given the circumstance. How could you even say no to him? How the hell could anyone say no to him for anything when he could ask in a way that almost didn’t even sound like it had come from him? You swallowed “of course big guy, I’ll get her fixed up for ya.”

 You didn’t get a chance to step onto the ramp, Wrecker had taken a hold of you the same way he had Omega. Arms wrapped around you as he crushed you to his chest, lifting your feet off the ground as he began to walk you both into the ship. He was smiling again, ear to ear as you allowed the massive clone to carry you back into the ship.  *you dumbass, you have never made a stuffed animal in your life and now you volunteer?* you scolded yourself. But when he offered you that smile and that softness, causing your stomach to flip and heart to sputter, there was no way you could tell him no.

 It had been a week and a half since Lula the first (as you had come to call her) had met her untimely fate. You had carefully stowed her remains away in one of your supply trunks, hoping to calm your stress over her with the “out of sight out of mind” approach. It had failed miserably. Mainly because in the short time since you promised to fix her, you had learned how truly important the doll was not just to Omega, but Wrecker as well. While Omega was sad, she was more upset having hurt her brother. She still had her trooper doll, when as he had nothing. Even though the doll had been passed down, it was still his in her eyes.

 You had also managed to get more information on the doll and all its importance from Tech. He had been stuck doing dishes with you, and with some very innocent questions you had found out new details that made things click into place. “Wrecker has never been a sound sleeper. I am surprised that you have survived bunking with him.” Tech had explained. “He was hardly a toddler when 99 had given her to him as a gift, seeing as he slept so badly alone. It had the desired affects, though he out grew her somewhat, she is still very special to him, seeing as she is the only gift he has ever been given.”

 You had agreed to sharing a bunk room with Wrecker, seeing as the rest of the batch could not stand his snoring. Having grown up on a livestock transport, you had adapted to sleeping like the dead though most normal background noises. Yet once Tech had said something about his brother’s sleeping habits, you couldn’t stop noticing. In the past week alone you had woke up to his bunk empty below yours, only to realize he had wandered away and climbed in with one of his brothers. Finding him securely wrapped around a half-asleep Echo had been a sight. You had even been staying up to try and spy on the big guy, watching him toss and turn in his sleep while trying to hug his much too small pillow against his chest.

 It broke your heart to bits, but lit a fire under your ass to fix it.

 You had spent every spare second you had researching, watching videos, and reading about how to even begin to make the stuffed doll. While you had been taught at a young age how to fix clothing and stitch animals, this was a ways out of your comfort zone. Then of course there was finding the needed fabric, stuffing, and other hardware necessary for the dolls creation. You had already concluded that as it stands, Lula The First was not salvageable. Many attempts had been made to wash the stains and grime out, but it only made her deteriorate. Just your luck, this would have to be an entirely new doll, not just patching up the original.

 The hyper fixation had managed to kick in when you needed it most, as you devoured as much information as you could; even Hunter had asked if everything was fine. It was, you assured him, you just had shit to get done and not much time to do it. Hell, you didn’t even have a machine to work with, Lula was going to be done by hand, and that was a challenge you were stubbornly going to conquer.

 So after a long night of reading about different plushie fillings and their purpose; you had to hide your excitement when Rex parked his small ship the next hangar over, asking for a favor. You had not quite been up for a lot of the more dangerous stuff the batch did. While you could handle a blaster, you simply were not good under that kind of pressure. But this time was different, as you watched the boys and Omega all cram themselves into the Captain’s ship. The Marauder was too big for the needed mission, much to Tech’s dismay. Not that you would complain, it meant you got to stay behind and enjoy the peace and quiet.

 Wrecker had lagged behind, bucket propped up on his head he cast you a grin “See you when we get back Patches!”

 Maker why did his smile have to be so damn beautiful.

 Three and a half days later you stood in the cockpit of the Marauder. Your hands folded up and held to your mouth as you took a long and exaggerated breath. Before you on the dash of the Marauder sat two stuffed tooka dolls. In your self-induced hyper fixation, you had decided that you did in fact need to make two new tooka dolls. Wrecker needed his Lula there was no doubt there, but Omega did two. She had lost one of the few toys she had, she sure as hell was going to get another. Did it double the stress? Certainly. Did you care? Not entirely.

 You had also been given a shocking reminder of how bad you really are at math. You thought a little bigger wouldn’t hurt, just a little more to snuggle with. Nope, you should have known better the instant the math started to have dots in the numbers. Instead of two tooka dolls that were maybe an inch around larger than Lula The First, you had two dolls that were close to double the size of their ancestor. Maker the doll was almost Omega sized.

 However, you were too excited with the general end product to get to worked up over size. The stitching had come together better than expected, the colors were a bit off, but they were close enough. The stuffing had been high quality, you had wanted to make these things perfect snuggle buddies. The finishing touch had been sticking the cleanest pieces of Lula The First into the main body of each new one. They would both get to still have a piece of the original.

 You knew they were due back any minute. Half a day late but alive and unscathed according to the comm you had received. Yet somehow even with all the past weeks of panicked learning, few days of needle pricked fingers and fleeting sanity the last ten minutes had your entire mind running in an anxious circle. You just had to give it to them, how hard could it be? Omega you didn’t worry much on. The girl loved anything and everything that could be given to her.

 Wrecker though.

 Overhead the familiar hum of idling engines began to fill the ship. You picked up both dolls, darting back to your bunk, shoving both dolls under your blanket before scurrying back to the ramp of the ship just in time to watch as the batch along with Rex tumble back out of the small ship. Their voices filled the hanger, the evening sun having just started to hang across it.

 “Patches!!” A familiar small voice called across the hanger. Omega came sprinting out ahead of all of them, she nearly skidded to a halt next to you looking up with wide eyes, her clothes absolutely soaked with water “Wrecker blew up a huge dam! There was so much water it made everything almost look like Kamino!”

 You chuckled “Oh did he now?” *This man I swear* Omega simply giggled shaking her head to send droplets of water flying before looking back up to see the group had split. Everyone but Wrecker was heading out of the hanger, calling out something about being at Cids. “You and the big guy going to get your mix then?”

 Omega shook her head with a small frown. “No, they already closed for the night, so we will have to in the morning.” The disappointment was evident, hell if they had commed you twenty minutes sooner you would have picked it up for them.

 “That’s okay though! Just means we get the fresh stuff tomorrow!” Wrecker had come to a stop beside you now, looking down with grin. However, this time you took notice of how tied he looked. His volume was low and his eyes were droopy.

 “Good idea!” The girl laughed, “Now I have to go shower, Tech says I smell like a swamp!” She practically skipped up the ramp ahead of you. Only then did the smell of rotten wood and stagnant water fill your nose.

 “Maker, she does!” You chuckled, shaking your head as you took a step up the Marauder. You half glanced back at Wrecker, who had finished pulling his bucket off to set on a bench. “So she claims you blew up a dam? Care to elaborate?”

 The smile that plastered his face was nothing short of magical. “Yeah I did! Took out soo many battle droids! Some thug had managed to reprogram them and was using them to terrorize a village! Not any more!” You listened intently, leaning up against the wall as he began to unceremoniously discard his armor bit by bit.

 “I was able to get Omega safe before the blast but I got hit with some water. Had to swim for a bit but nothing I couldn’t handle.”

 He made it sound so mundane. Like it was just another afternoon jaunt. Part of you was thankful for that, it helped settle that always nerved side of you that knew what they did was dangerous. That the man before you could very well not return with the others. It made something hurt thinking about it

 You swallowed hard and prayed he didn’t notice. When had those feelings started? You shoved it aside, smiling as you walked over to Wrecker who was stripped down to just his leg armor and blacks. “Well, you better hope that Omega leaves the hero of this mission some hot water.”

 “Nah its okay. She deserves all of it more than me.”

 Maker this man was going to be the death of you.

 The half hour delay of waiting for both Omega and Wrecker to finish cleaning off had done nothing to help the growing anxiety you had over how the big guy would react. What if he didn’t want a new one? What if it was too soon to replace her? Maker you had not been this unsure of something in a long time. It was time to rip off the band aid. You were better than this. You carefully picked up both of the dolls before calling out. “Hey I have a surprise for both of you!”

 The playful commotion from outside in the common area went dead quiet. What had once been the sound of Wrecker attempting to herd Omega to bed was replaced with the not so quiet sound of them rushing to the bunk room door. They both looked on with equal amounts of child like curiosity.

 “Whattcha got?” Wrecker asked, attempting to peek around and see whatever it was that you were hiding behind your back.

It was now or never.

 Carefully with one in each hand, you held out the tooka dolls. Both Omega and Wrecker’s eyes going wide in unison. “While I am sad to say, I couldn’t save Lula. I know these won’t replace her, she was special to both of you. But I did put the fabric I could salvage from her and put in in these new ones.” You presented them each with their respective doll. “I hope you like them”

 Omega was first to react, snatching the doll out of your hand with lightning speed. The ship was instantly filled with her excited laughter “Patches I love it!!! Its even bigger than Lula was!!” as you had delightfully predicted, the doll was nearly perfect hugging size for the girl. “Thank you Thank you Thank you!!”

She nearly took you out with a hug, her arms desperately trying to hug both you and the doll at the same time. Your heart melted; this sweet kid had the incurable disease of enthusiasm. Maker you prayed nothing ever took it from her. She grinned up at you, big eyes full of unbridled joy. “I’m glad you like her!”

 However, your attention was brought back to Wrecker, who was holding the other doll between his hands staring at it. This doll looked more his size. Lula the first had been so small in his hands, but this new one could actually be held between two hands. He finally looked up at you and Maker you could have melted in a puddle then and there had Omega not been hugging you.

 You had seen him interact with Omega with a gentleness that was impressive, but he looked so soft, so unbelievably thankful that it was almost too much. However, he closed the gap between you both, pulling you into a rather gentle hug. Leaning down to bury his face in your neck, he had never done that before.

 “Thank you so much Patches.” It was hardly a whisper.

 “she is the only gift he has ever been given”

 Your heart ached. He deserved so much more than the life that he had been forced into. The urge to harm anyone that had hurt him in the past danced in your mind. He had seen so much, gone though so much yet he was one of the most compassionate people you had ever met. His heart was the one thing they could never train out of him.

 In a moment of clarity, you reached one hand up and cupped his face. Holding him steady so you could press your cheek to his. “Anytime sweetheart.” It slipped out, you couldn’t help it. His warm embrace had melted any resistance you had to accepting you had fallen head over heels for the brawler. All you could do was bask in the warm fuzzy feeling of surrendering to it.

 The tension melted away from his fame, before he pulled away. This time his gaze was different. You couldn’t place it. But you liked it. You both simply stared at each other. “Wrecker what are you going to name yours? Still Lula? I gotta think of names come on!”

 You had nearly forgotten Omega was there. Wrecker snapped his arms back from around you, recovering quicker than you had he beamed down at Omega “I’m not sure yet! But I agree we can’t reuse Lula’s name! Maybe we can figure that out later.”

 She darted away from the bunkroom just as the voices of their returning brothers began to fill the hanger. She stumbled to a stop, before spinning and sprinting down the ramp. “HUNTER LOOK WHAT PATCHES MADE ME!”

 You couldn’t help the laughter that spilled from your chest, her enthusiasm was infectious You finally glanced back up to Wrecker, who looked at you with such adoration that it made your heart sing.

  It was long after the ship had grown quiet that you finally made it to your bunk. The weeks of painstaking preparation had come to a close and now the relief had turned into a crash. You scrambled up into the bunk you called yours, stacked just above Wreckers. He had turned in early, not that you blamed him. He needed sleep. You could hardly make him out in the dark room, all that was visible was a dark pile of blankets and a pair of stuffed tooka ears.

 You couldn’t help but grin. Settling in you laid out on your stomach, one arm hanging over the side as you carefully peered down at the pile of blankets below you. He had been so restless for weeks, but now he seemed unusually still.

 “Hey Patches?” His voice broke the silence. You thought he had been asleep. The blankets below shifted around, then the soft pressure of his hand taking yours shocked you. The hold was tender, ever so gentle as he ran his thumb over your knuckles. “Thank you again. For everything”

 There was something about the way he said everything. It was more than just the doll he was talking about. It was things you didn’t quite know how to talk to him about. *Maker he just short circuits me*

 “Any time Wrecker. I’m always here.” You squeezed his hand slightly, hoping to convey everything that you wanted to say to him but couldn’t find the words for.

 There was a low rumble from the bunk below you, as he returned the hand squeeze delicately. You could only describe the sound as a content purr. A soft giggle escaped you.

 Maker you loved his man.

[silver-dragon-rider]

Stuck Together

Prologue 

( Hello! This is a JSE story I’ve started writing based off of an animation by @cakethefabulousart and a roleplay we’ve been doing. I’m hoping to continue writing and turning this into a bigger project than just one or two fics. I hope you enjoy! )

Word Count: 1,825

It was very early in the morning, the city still sleeping and the sun had not quite risen. The streets were mostly calm, not a soul in sight. It made an easy path for a figure to dart down the sidewalk, jumping from streetlight to streetlight as he ran. He could hear his labored breathing in his ears, feel every foot step that hit the pavement. "They're catching up, Anti!" A voice could be heard in his head, pulling a growl from the other. "I fucking know Chase!" He snapped out loud, dipping into an alleyway. "Then why aren't you running faster?!" The voice, Chase, retorted with a stressed hiss. A small group of people ran by, several of them armed, as the man covered his mouth to muffle his heavy breathing from all the running. Once the people passed and footsteps faded, after waiting for the coast to be absolutely clear, Anti moved his hand and hissed right back at Chase. "Your stupid body is out of shape!" There was a pause then, "Ok first of all, it's our body." Anti grumbled in frustration as he slid to the ground to take a break and catch his breath. He pulled his hood off, revealing black hair with the top part dyed an electric green. He has blue eyes, but the pupils were slittled like a snake or cat, and where the whites of his eyes were it was black instead, giving him a demonic appearance. After another moment of silence between the two, where Anti rested, Chase spoke up again. "Do you think it's safe now?" Anti sighed, pushing himself up and peeking out of the alley. He looked both ways down the street. "Looks like the coast is clear for now..but I doubt it's safe." He could feel Chase's fear and sadness at that, the rough reality being they'd been running from these people for a month now, and they had yet to give up. "Let's just focus on finding somewhere for the night." He said, starting to walk down the sidewalk. Chase didn't respond and Anti felt bad for snapping at him, speaking up to break the silence. "Hey, you think your apartment is free?" Chase snorted in response to Anti. "No, I don't think my old place is still free after I was gone for a year." There was a giggle to his tone and Anti smirked. "Well, it was worth a shot right?" "No, it's really not." Chase laughed and Anti felt a warmth that he was able to sheer the other up, even a little bit. They continued chatting to one another as the sun rose, looking for a place in the city to lay low.

It has been a year since Chase disappeared, a year today actually. Jackie had taken it pretty hard, and still didn't know why Anti decided to attack them that day, or how he managed to take Chase away. The memories played in the hero's head as if they had just happened as he sat on a rooftop, overlooking the city he protected. His leg dangled over the side and he sighed, going over what happened one more time. It had been a gloomy day, clouds in the sky looking like it might rain. Despite that him and Chase met up in an old skate park to hang out. Chase had been going through a lot with the divorce with Stacy, and Jackie wanted to cheer his best friend up. The two had a pretty chill afternoon, and everything was going fine until Anti showed up. He didn't know why the demon decided to attack that day. Maybe he thought Jackie was vulnerable with Chase there, maybe it was a coincidence. Jackie couldn't exactly ask him now.. In the scuffle between the two Anti took a cheap shot, glitching over to attack Chase while he was running away. Maybe Anti was hoping to cripple the hero by attacking his friend, but the demon didn't account for how strong Jackie's protective instincts would be. Jackie got in between them so fast you'd miss it if you blinked, and turned the knife on Anti with enough force it buried hilt deep in the demon's chest. Jackie didn't mean to hurt Anti, he just wanted to protect Chase! But it was too late after that..Anti had stumbled to his knees and Chase fell into the dirt. Jackie had been too shocked to move, and he cursed himself for it every day. Sparks had started to come off Anti, and before Jackie realized what was happening, static latched on to Chase. In the blink of an eye Chase was gone..and so was Anti. Jackie rubbed the tears from his eyes at the painful memories. He still didn't understand what even happened. Anti's body was left, he wouldn't have survived anyways, but Chase had just disappeared. Marvin said Anti probably latched on to Chase in a last ditch survival effort, and Jackie couldn't help but blame himself for that. The hero's melancholy thoughts were interrupted by his phone ringing. He glanced at it and sighed, it was Henrik again. He'd been trying to reach Jackie all day, probably worried about the hero. He decided to just answer it this time, putting the phone on speaker. "Hey Hen.." There was a relieved gasp from the phone, and Henriks thick German accent came over the phone. "Jackie! Are you ok? Vhy haven't you picked up..?" Jackie looked away from the phone, taking a moment to respond. "I was distracted..been thinking a lot today." "About vhat?" Jackie didn't respond to that question, Henrik knew. "It vasn't your fault Jackie." The hero sighed, shaking his head a little. "I'm just tired." Exhaustion was evident in his voice, the long year of searching weighing on him in more ways than one. "I know..it's going to be ok. Ve're here for you." Henrik said in what he hoped was a comforting way. Jackie was quiet for a moment. "Thanks Hen. I gotta go, I'll see you tonight." He grabbed the phone and hung up before Henrik could respond. He had spotted a petty crime and went to take care of it, focusing on work for the rest of the day. Late in the night a couple people were gathered at the skatepark. One wore a cardigan and glasses while the other had a noticeable cloak and cat mask. Henrik and Marvin were waiting for Jackie, Marvin sitting on a bench and Henrik standing nearby. It was Marvin's idea to meet up at the skatepark where Chase disappeared at the one year anniversary of the event. He hoped it would help ease Jackie, if only a little bit. The two were chatting idly when a figure in a red hoodie shuffled towards them. He had his head down and hood up, hiding his face from the others. Marvin waved and called him over and Henrik smiled, but the normally positive Jackie couldn't find it in himself to return their enthusiasm. He sat on the bench next to Marvin who put his arm around the hero, rubbing his back in a comforting way. “I brought some of his favorite snacks.” Marvin spoke up as he offered a bag of chips to Jackie. “Remember that one time he bought all of them off the shelf at the gas station?” He continued with a small chuckle, hoping to cheer Jackie up. Henrik chimed in that he remembered that, the two starting to talk about some of their positive memories with Chase. Jackie listened quietly to the conversation, commenting here and there but finding it difficult to get involved. They’d planned on trying to take this day and make it positive: talk about nice memories and do things Chase would have enjoyed. However, Jackie was having a hard time following through with the idea he found. Everything the others mentioned made him miss Chase more, and every bittersweet memory reminded him that he failed. He didn’t save Chase and he regretted it every day, no matter how long it had been. Not long into the conversation Jackie broke down crying. It had still managed to get dark in that time, street lights popping on and stars glittering overhead. “I don’t understand how you guys can sit here and talk about him like he’s not coming back!” Henrik and Marvin looked at each other with shared shock and confusion, Marvin speaking up in response. “Jackie..we’re not giving up. The opposite actually, we’re trying to keep motivation and spirits up..so we can keep looking.” He grabbed Jackie’s hand to get his full attention, the hero looking at him with a tear stained face. “I promise you we will never stop looking, and I know you won’t either.” He hugged Jackie who clung to him with soft sobs, Henrik joining the hug as the two comforted Jackie through the next couple hours. They hung out once Jackie had calmed down and watched the stars until the hero started yawning. “Looks like someone needs to head home.” It was Henrik who commented on Jackie’s tiredness, always the one looking after the other’s health. Jackie chuckled sheepishly as he stood up and stretched, smiling at his two friends. “I guess so. Thanks guys..for everything.” He genuinely smiled at them, a sight both of them had missed. “Go get some rest Jackie, you deserve it.” Marvin mentioned in a warm voice, watching the hero wave and walk away. He missed that smile, almost as much as he missed Chase. Henrik and Marvin talked a little longer before heading back to their respective homes for the night. Jackie was walking along the dark streets back towards the apartment he stayed in. He’d decided to take the long way home, having needed some time to think. He was thinking about what his friends had said while they were hanging out, about what happened when Chase disappeared. Maybe it was time to forgive himself, accept that there was nothing he could do to change what happened then. He had a lot of heavy thoughts on his mind, not quite hearing the hasty footsteps heading towards him. He wasn’t paying attention and neither was the other person it seemed, as they ran right into the hero knocking them both down. “Wha- ah!” Jackie looked up just in time to get run in to and fall over, shaking his head a bit then looking to see who had hit him. “I’m sorry, I wasn’t paying attention-” Jackie froze, the words getting caught in his throat as he stared. The person sitting on the ground across from him looked up, his hood having fallen away revealing familiar blue eyes. Jackie was staring at a ghost, the very person he’d been crying about all day. His missing best friend Chase had just bumped into him on the street and was now staring back at the hero. ( Thanks for reading! I’ll be working on the next chapter so stayed tuned for that! )

[pughat]

Totally didn’t forget to write something yesterday. Anyways this will have a part 2 soon, and I’ll probably post it on AO3 once I’m done that part (so I don’t have to make 2 chapters)

Sam stared down at the yellowed pages of the spell book Philza had silently handed him the other day. It had.. a lot of information about void magic in it, but the most interesting thing by far was a spell.

It had many usages, but all it did was make ones code more flexible, at least in some sense.

He could escape with it. Sam wasn’t an experienced enough hacker or magic user to break through the servers firewalls on his own, but with some help from the void- he might just have a chance.

Sure, he’d be tainted by the void and would have to cut his hand off to stop it from spreading up his arm and into his heart, killing him, but he’d take it. He’d just wear a glove over that hand until he had the opportunity to safely amputate it.

Looking up from the book, Sam did one last check that everything was set up correctly before starting the spell.

Less than ten minutes later the creeper hybrid found himself frantically squeezing through crowds and ducking around corners. He’d had a head start, but Dream was an expert at hunting someone down.

He left shallow scrapes in the pavement as he dug his claws in to make a sharp turn and scrambling down a narrow street towards a packed marketplace.

Sam searched for a place to hide before deciding he didn’t have time and risked simply hiding amongst a group of players. Another other creeper hybrid was visible just to his left, but Sam didn’t have the time to care. Though they were surprised, nobody tried to stop him as he crouched down to stay out of view as Dream prowled through the marketplace. The admin approached the group and Sam was certain he could hear his heart pounding in his chest.

“Excuse me, did any of you happen to spot another creeper hybrid go by? A bit shorter than your friend here, and a little more yellowish.”

This was it for Sam. He’d be revealed and Dream would take him right back to the SMP. He wasn’t sure what Dream would do, but he’d rather die free than live through whatever he had in store.

The apparently leader of the group turned to him, somehow managing to radiate kindness despite the full-body armour they wore

“Ah- I suppose I did, they went off that way.”

They pointed towards a gap between two stands. They’d lied to Dream for some random player who’d used their friends to hide.

“Thank you, I’ll be on my way.”

Sam watched his former admin walk away and disappear amongst the crowd.

He was free- at least, much more free. True freedom was still far away, he was still in the main hub city with nowhere to go, but it was more than enough to make tears well up in his eyes.

“Hey, do you need help?” The armoured player was standing in front of him, not even having to look up to look at him. He didn’t think humans were supposed to be that tall, they were probably an ender man hybrid.

That didn’t mean it was safe for Sam to stay any longer.

“Yes- yes, I’m fine, thank you- I don’t have anything to pay you with but,” He tried to think of anything he had to give them, but came up empty “really, thank you.”

About three nearby players started to protest Sam even considering paying their friend back for that, but he speed walked away as soon as he was able. Dream would realize he’d been tricked soon, he had to keep moving.

Keep walking, one foot in front of the other.

Stay out of sight.

Find a place to hide.

Stay alive.

————————————

“Darn, they ran off..” Grian sighed somewhere off to Docs left as the Hermits watched the skittish creeper hybrid weave through the crowd and out of sight.

He could immediately tell Xisuma a few other of the more parental Hermits wanted to go after them and check they were alright, but everyone knew chasing after someone like that would likely make things worse.

And while Doc wouldn’t admit it, he felt the instinctive need to help the younger creeper- they seemed just barely old enough to be considered an adult.

Ah well. The feeling passed after a few minutes, and he’d likely never see the kid again anyways.

[the-chosen-fanfiction]

Gentile. | Chapter 7

When Atticus invites you to accompany him to the library, you go against Quintus' wishes to remain home.

Chapter list

You yelp in pain and the fine linen soaks up crimson, fabric staining red underneath the golden flowers you have been embroidering. Bringing your index finger to your mouth, you suck on the small droplet of blood that had been forming there, the needle already the cause of a dozen pinpricks in your skin. 

Quintus looks up with a scowl on his face, his jaw tensing. “Can’t you be quiet? I’m trying to work here.” You don’t reply, instead narrow your eyes and continue your sewing in silence. There is no fibre in your being that would even consider giving him the satisfaction of a reply.

“Dominus.” Gaius enters the room and puts his hand on his heart, bowing his head slightly. “Atticus Aemilius Pulcher is here to see you.”

Your heart skips a beat, your embroidery work suddenly way less interesting. Fiddling with the needle, you find it to be abruptly more difficult to set a stitch. 

“Is it urgent?”

“Of course it’s urgent.” There is no voice in the world that you have ever been more excited about to hear and you nearly drop your crafts, shifting to sit up a little straighter from your slouching position, hoping to appear more elegant. Atticus steps into the room and Gaius gives Quintus an apologetic look. Your husband waves off the centurion, who hurries away.

Sadness tugs at your heartstrings when Atticus does not immediately glance your way, but you do not blame him. Doing so would perhaps raise the suspicion of Quintus, so you keep down your own excitement as well. “What do you want now? Fishing for another invitation to a dinner party? Perhaps you should gain some credit with me first, marshall, give me something good before I might consider—”

“I wouldn't be here if it weren’t for business.” Atticus’ eyes momentarily find you and make you fluster in your seat. “Good to see you again, my lady.” His voice is promptly gentler, nearly making you squirm.

“Likewise, Cohortes.”

When you feel Quintus’ gaze prickle the side of your face, you quickly turn your attention back to the embroidery in your hands. “Forgive her for speaking out of turn.” your husband pipes up, “And as for your business, I am certain that it is pressing enough, otherwise you wouldn’t drag yourself all the way here again. So, spill it, why don’t you?”

“It has to do with the extremism that has been happening around the city as of lately. A violent mob, somebody got assassinated, people are restless around here and something is afoot.”

“What are your findings?”

“Zealots, likely. You know who they are?”

Quintus scoffs. “Of course I do. Nothing Rome can’t solve. A bunch of goons with a persecution complex.”

“They’re a little like roaches, if you will,” Atticus explains, “Have a few, nothing to panic about. But when they spread in the dark and become too many, you have a true problem, a possible health hazard as they start to soil your supplies.” 

Your husband raises an eyebrow. “And why haven’t you arrested them yet?”

“Because I only have one pair of eyes and arresting one or two will create martyrs.”

“So you have come here to request my aid?”

Atticus crosses his arms. “Indeed. These are your streets, Quintus. Don’t force me to report back to Rome eventually with intelligence about how poorly you handle extremist threats.”

The frown that twists Quintus’ features into displeasure tells of his annoyance towards the Cohortes right now. A few seconds of intense eye-contact ensue, the tension tangible in the room. You hold your breath, witnessing it unfold, until Quintus is the one to break it.

“Fine.” he admits, “I’ll look into it.”

“Do it soon, Quintus, and do it well. Chasing them back to the shadows will only give them a chance to grow, and then, they’ll strike when we least expect it.”

For a moment, your husband freezes on his spot, his chin pinched between his fingers, as if considering something. He then moves at once, grabbing his helmet and cloak, his weapons, and waltzes out of the door without as much as a glance your way.

Atticus turns to you and gives you a small smile. “Enjoying yourself, my lady?” You hold up the embroidery you had been doing and shrug, causing him to chuckle a little. “Ah, I see.”

You stand and dare to approach him, albeit with wobbly legs, your stomach twisting in circles when his scent reaches you. It’s more comforting than you’d like to admit. “It’s boring at best.”

The Cohortes makes an amused sound and pleasantly smiles at you. “I’ve been reading Metamorphoses, and I must say, I’m glad you recommended it to me.”

A soft hum leaves your lips. “Ah, I’m happy to hear that, Cohortes. We should discuss the details soon. I’m sure you’re busy enough as is.”

“For you, I’ll make time.”

The words aren’t unpleasant, nor forced, and he watches you thoughtfully for a good second before opening his mouth to speak.

“Would you like to accompany me to the local library? I've heard they have recently imported some new works from Cicero."

With a wry smile, you shake your head at him. "I would have loved to, Atticus, but Quintus has forbidden me to visit any public places with the violence about. He's unrelenting about it."

He frowns. "Oh... I know it might sound daunting, but have you considered... Sneaking away?"

Your eyes widen and you can't help but smile a little. "You mean the way I did whilst wearing that awful disguise?"

Atticus chuckles and nods in acknowledgement. "That's what I mean!" 

After laughing together for a few moments, you lower your gaze, a little shy. "I ah... Perhaps I could try." 

"Tomorrow," the Cohortes proposes, "After the second meal. I'll be around in case you need me to cause a distraction."

Oh, Atticus is a distraction indeed - to you . With a nod, you settle the appointment. "Meet me under the fig tree at the town square," the Cohortes says, grabbing your hand to once again kissing the back of it. The sensation makes your gut pleasantly stir and is even nicer than the first time.

He lingers there, finding your gaze. Your breath stutters.

With a smile, he finally pulls away, letting you go. You resist the urge to chase his warmth, can't do anything else but blush at him.

"I'll see you tomorrow, then." says Atticus, "This time around, the figs will be fresh instead of candied."

The comment sends your system into overdrive and you take a moment to process what he had just said, but he backs away before you can ask more about it. "Have a wonderful day, my lady."

"I'll-I'll see you later, Atticus..." you murmur, watching him leave whilst your heart stutters unevenly in your chest. Had he... Had he just severely hinted that the candied figs from a few days ago had come from him ? Your knees feel weak and no sensible thought formed in your mind.

With one final look over his shoulder, he leaves the chamber. Your lips tremble when you fight the wide grin threatening to spread there.

Tomorrow can’t come soon enough.

_

Eventually, it arrives. Quintus returns home in the dead of night and luckily does nothing but grumble a little whilst crawling under the covers beside you, vaguely mentioning the possibility of civil war, but you’re certain that he is exaggerating, as he always does. You’re awake long before breakfast, spend some extra time dolling up - it’s not a date, right? - and use your most expensive perfume to subtly apply to your wrists and neck. Since you’re supposed to go in disguise, the least you can do is try to make your face look pretty.

This time around, you use a coat that is not as heavy as the one you had borrowed from Quintus a few days ago, which makes for a more agreeable look. You don’t know how to not look Roman, quite frankly, so you’re glad that you’ll be at Atticus’ side most of the time. Praetor Quintus doesn’t seem keen on having you around today, which gives you enough space to sneak away.

Under the fig tree, as discussed the day before, Atticus stands with one hand on the hilt of his sword, holding a half-eaten apple in the other. His casual confidence is endearing. When you approach him, he finds you with a small smile on his features, and he winks. He tosses the core of the apple into the shrubbery and observes your new guise.

“Still Roman-looking, but you are starting to get the hang of it.”

“Teach me your ways.” you jest.

Atticus reaches for your red cloak. “Swap this out for a more muted colour and we’ll speak again.” You are aware that he is only teasing but you still feel your cheeks flush with slight embarrassment. “Come on, let’s go.”

The library isn’t too far away. On Atticus’ arm, you float here within a quarter of an hour. The warmth that radiates from him is enough to set your entire form aflutter with feelings you certainly have not have mustered towards Quintus in any moment of time. 

“Thank you for bringing me here,” you say, “It isn’t easy being under Quintus’ roof all the time, especially with the current nice weather. I enjoy the noise of the market. It inspires me to write poetry about everyday things. See that merchant over there?”

You discreetly point out a salesman that is trying his best to force one of his pigeons back into its cage, but it flutters in protest despite the man’s best efforts. He cusses at it in a language you don’t know until it breaks free and flies away before the merchant can stop it. With a dejected face, the pigeon keeper watches it take off, far beyond his reach.

Both you and Atticus laugh at the amusing scene, but your smile soon falls. “Sometimes I feel like a bird being locked inside a cage. Seeing this happen makes me think of ways to implement it into my poetry.”

Atticus hums, tilting his head curiously. “Ah… I see. Do you write about all topics?”

You nod, tucking some hair behind your ear. “Mainly how I feel.”

The Cohortes lets out a sound. “You should read me something one of these days, if you want to of course. Ah, here we are.” The pair of you halts next to a building and he opens the door for you to let you go in first.

You honestly hadn’t expected much of Capernaum’s library, but you have to admit that it is quite nice on the inside. Two dozen shelves are stocked all the way to the top and you nearly trip over a pile of books. A woman behind the desk smiles at you. “Welcome,” she says.

You greet her back and remove your hood, taking in the place. “It’s beautiful here.” you comment towards Atticus, who smiles warmly.

“Isn’t it? Come on, let me show you where the poetry is. I’m certain that you’ll like it.”

You follow him to the back of the library, just around the corner in a secluded section. About thirty-some books stand with their spines towards you, almost calling out your name. You let out a small, content noise, and Atticus chuckles whilst you pry one out, letting your eyes flit over the cover.

“If you want to borrow anything, just let me know.” He takes a copy of Odes from Horace off the shelf and flicks through it. You watch him from the corner of your eye.

Atticus returns it before you can ask what he thinks of it and you quickly look away, skimming through the pages of the book in your own hands. His presence behind you is maddening almost, with your heartbeat thumping inside your ears at the gentle brush of his body against yours when he reaches out to take something from the ledge above you.

Closing your eyes, you fight your blush at his proximity. Atticus smells musky, like sweat and leather with an earthy note to it, a hint of oil somewhere. It is already so familiar that you’re certain that you’ll drown in it.

“Have you ever read the Song of Songs, (Y/n)?” he queries.

Your nose turns pink and you dare to look at him. “Isn’t that… That’s from the Jews, right?”

Another chuckle comes from him. He nods and flips through the pages. “Controversial, perhaps, but let’s see…” 

He clears his throat, momentarily finding your gaze before he reads aloud: 

“Where has your beloved gone,

O fairest among women?

Where has your beloved turned aside,

That we may seek him with you?”

Your breath hitches when he glances at you again, locking eyes. A short silence follows, and you wonder if he meant it as a question directed towards you. Without breaking eye-contact, he puts the book away again, stepping closer in the process. Your body freezes at his nearness, throat running dry.

His breath brushes against your face, his usual charming smile not present at this moment. Instead, he tips up your chin with his finger, eyes flicking between yours, searching fear, or regret. “Where has your beloved gone, o fairest among women?” he repeats. Your lids flutter shut and exhale shakily.

The boldest of questions leaves his lips. 

“Do you love him?” Atticus inquires. You sharply gasp, stepping back, looking at him with slight shock on your face when your back hits the bookshelf. His face immediately contorts into one of regret. “I-I didn’t mean to… I… I apologise if I’ve overstepped a boundary with that question.” 

There is no fibre in your being that is able to reply to him right now. Slack-jawed, you stare at him whilst shaking your head, tears prickling behind your eyes. 

“Perhaps I should drop you off home,” Atticus proposes, “I… I went too far, and I fear that I read you wrong, I–”

“No.”

The firm statement causes Atticus to freeze. “No.” you repeat. To which of his comments it was directed is left ambiguous. 

He bites his bottom lip, observing you closely. “I see.” he mutters kindly.

“Atticus, I–” You step closer to him but halt halfway through reaching for his cheek, shame suddenly creeping its way up your cheeks. “I-I find our interactions more than enjoyable.” you confess nevertheless.

The man smiles - you’re getting weak at the knees at the sight of it - and relaxes. “Me too,” he states. 

He takes his distance by stepping back, out of respect, you assume. Still, you want him to close the gap, to lose yourself in the sight of his dark eyes and the musky scent of his being. 

Despite your marital status, you yearn for him. Pursuing it would spell a death sentence for both of you.

“I don’t think we should see each other, Atticus,” you whisper, closing your eyes to fight back the tears. “You… You confuse me.” Your voice breaks, but you remain strong.

“How so?” he asks.

“I shouldn’t…” you whisper, “I shouldn’t tell. It would be… Improper to do so.”

There it was, your ambiguous confession. Atticus smiles curiously. 

“I won’t pry,” he promises. “For now. Let’s get you home.”

The air between you is thick with tension. “Already?” you murmur, almost disappointed.

“You’re probably being missed.”

He is right, and so, you follow him to the exit.

The woman behind the desk lends you one of Virgil’s works, Eclogues, even though the Song of Songs remains on the shelf despite your initial intention to take it with you. Atticus’ citation has made you curious, but the fear that Quintus would find out about it makes you decide to leave it be.

With your hood pulled up again, the pair of you stroll towards the estate in pleasant silence, until he breaks it.

“The book you’ve given me, Metamorphoses. It’s… Interesting.”

Your face lights up at the mention thereof. “How far are you?” you’re eager to know.

“Hm, I’ve just read the story of Cadmus and his Queen transforming into serpents, if I recall correctly.”

Your eyes widen. “You’re quite far, then.”

“I’m a fast reader.”

A brief silence, nonetheless enjoyable.

“Say,” Atticus begins, “What do you think the meaning of the book might be?”

You look at him, slowing in your step a bit. “What Ovid is trying to tell us, you mean?”

He hums in acknowledgement. It takes a moment to formulate a proper answer.

“Then, I think it means this. Every single person is constantly changing and transforming throughout their life. And even though it is written as a chronological series of events from the beginning of time until Caesar’s death, there is one constant throughout, which is chaos . Change does not always come easy. Sometimes you have to fight to survive through it.”

Atticus puts his hand on top of yours as it rests around his arm. The contact makes you jolt, but you don’t pull away.

“That is an interesting point,” he muses.

“I think it somehow reflects how we are,” you clarify. “We are changing, too. You cannot escape transformation. Some loathe it, some require it, and others crave it.”

When you fall quiet, Atticus looks at you. “And you, (Y/n)?”

You blink a few times in puzzlement. “Beg your pardon?”

“Do you loathe change, require it, or crave it?” He slows down at the word crave , as if already knowing the answer. 

“I…” you start, but sigh right after. “I crave it,” you then whisper. The Cohortes squeezes your hand against him. “I do not know how to achieve it yet, but yes… And you?”

Atticus chuckles as you halt underneath the fig tree where you had met this afternoon. Dusk is already creeping up, visible in the colours of the sky. You just hope that Quintus has not returned home yet. 

“I think you’re already right in the middle of transformation, (Y/n). Something important is going to happen. I can just sense it. It is almost tangible in the air.”

You smile softly and hug the book you’ve lent a little tighter against you. “Perhaps.” you whisper, “Here’s to hoping.”

“I won’t keep you any longer.” Atticus declares. He pecks the back of your hand again, a sensation that never fails to send a swarm of butterflies through your system. 

“Thank you,” you murmur, “You’ve been spending a lot of your valuable time on me lately. I understand if you cannot afford to do so anymore.”

“You stop that silly talk, now.” he states, holding onto your hand tightly, “If there is anything you need, just say the word.”

He releases you, which is your cue to start walking off. You feel his eyes burn in the back of your head, watching you leave. 

Once the residence comes into view, you feel yourself tense up. 

It is clear that the man of the house has already come home right away. Quintus’ cloak and helmet are stored in the foyer. Dread settles in your gut and you sneak up the stairs to stow away your disguise. 

Your husband has sensed your presence and clears his throat behind you just as you stuff the old coat into the dresser. Exposed, you straighten your back, breath hitching in your throat as you hear him approach, closing the door behind him.

“Well well, if it isn’t my disobedient wife.” When you don’t turn, he hisses: “Look at me.”

Deeming you not quick enough, he grabs your hair from the back and twists you around in his arms, bringing his face in front of yours. He tilts back your head, looking down at you with such hatred that you doubt for just a second that you ever married him. He stinks of wine.

“Where were you, huh?! Weren’t my instructions clear enough?!” He tightens his grip on your hair and you wince, holding up your hands in defence. “You think I’m a laughing stock?”

“No!” you whimper, “No, I just… I felt like I was getting crazy in here, Quintus!”

“Think I need your excuses?” A few droplets of saliva land on your face as he barks, your eyes narrowing in disgust. 

He releases your hair at last, but not for good reasons. With the back of his hand, he strikes you across the face. 

For a split second, your ears ring. With a gasp, you feel your cheekbone sting, trembling fingers reaching up to find a tiny cut on your skin. You gawk at him in disbelief. Quintus stares at you for a few seconds, inspecting you closely, until the rage in his eyes dies down a bit. He seems to consider your earlier words.

For the first time in forever, he allows you some space. 

“Fine.” he bites, “But not without a chaperone.”

You pull straight your tunic once he steps back, giving you a warning glare. Only when Quintus has stumbled back down the stairs to get another goblet of wine, you dare move. Heading for the mirror in the washroom, you wince at the sight of the small injury that your husband has inflicted upon you. You leave it alone after prodding at it for a second, thinking it best to leave it be.

With a hazy mind, you spend the rest of your day in your sitting room, the copy of Eclogues remaining unopened on your desk.

Next chapter Chapter list

[helga-heason]

Letter #9

Dear Selina,

I hope this finds you well. I’m sorry for the month-long silence. It has been ridiculously hectic around here - and I’ve been doing basically nothing. There’s a weird unrest in the streets of Gotham, like some sort of rebellion is simmering, waiting for ignition. Myself and Gordon have been watching the Danger Twins like Gotham PD watches me (like overly cautious hawks) and so far they’ve behaved, but… There must always be a calm before the storm.

Speaking of storms, I think God saw the state of Gotham and decided to be kind to us for a while. We haven’t had much rain in months. So, of course, when I went out on a walk outside last night, there was a downpour halfway back to the cave. I wasn’t wearing the Batsuit at the time, and I feel a cold coming on. Although, to be fair, I’ve gotten colds even with the Batsuit on, so I can’t entirely blame the weather. I look a bit like a drowned rat when I get soaked, and you’d probably love teasing me for it. The Rat and the Cat, how’s that for a name? And thankfully it’s not El Rata Alada this time. I hope.

I’m writing this as I sit on the edge of the platform where the Batsignal is, Robin sat by my side, my legs dangling off the side and my feet kicking back against the wall now and then. Alfred has often said that you can tell I’ve been stuck in my traumatised childhood for a pretty long time through certain habits and beliefs - this habit being one of the tells. I mean, I don’t often sit here and kick my legs. I wasn’t really aware I was doing so until I started writing this letter, when it suddenly sunk in and hit me that my legs were moving. It’s oddly calming. It’s nice to just sit here as the city moves along below me, as the wind picks up a little and a breeze blows by. I actually rather like it when there’s a chill in the air - I find it refreshing. It is a bit of a pain when it’s particularly cold and I’m wearing the Batsuit, though.

Robin’s still bringing feathers back, but sometimes she’ll bring a stray cat or two as well. They don’t live here, only Robin does, but I’ll feed them and wash them and make sure they have somewhere to go before I send them out of the Batcave. Surprisingly, I’m not heartless. Both you and Robin have a thing for strays. I wonder if I do too? It seems I have found a second job in this city, rehabilitating and rehoming Gotham’s cats. With assistance from some of the Gotham PD, I might be able to get the calico cat bandits out of your old apartment. It’s a very strange life I lead, and this isn’t the first time I’ve thought that today. Loneliness can lead us to the darkest of places, but even in darkness, there is light. The light in this case being the new homes for the cats.

I’ve often wondered if this is my true vocation in life - chasing after petty criminals, solving ciphers, visiting the mayor and a guy who calls himself ‘the Penguin’, trying to flush out Gotham’s corruption, and trying to prevent the city from being flooded again - but I know, as the rain beats down on my skin and Robin meows like some deranged raccoon beside me, I’m right where I’m meant to be. This is who I am. For the longest time I thought that it was a weakness, that I needed to be someone or something else, but after meeting you and very promptly losing you, after reflecting on everything and keeping an eye on the Danger Twins… I see now that it’s a strength. I am Bruce Wayne, and I cannot change that - but maybe I don’t need to. I can only hope that you have the same sense of purpose that I now feel.

I hope you’re well.

Yours, always, the Bat(man) - and Robin the cat.

I promise you, some day, I will tell you who I am. And if you run away, it’ll hurt, but I’ll understand why, and I won’t chase after you.

[silver-inked]

Soy Luna Road Trip AU: B Team

“Hey Gaston?” Ramiro’s voice calls out slowly. He leans forward from the back seat of the car where he is sitting and peaks his head into the front between Nina and Gaston. “Do you remember when I mentioned a blue car that was trailing us?” 

Gaston’s eyes flicker from the road to the rear mirror in terror. “Oh shit.” Nina curses under her breath and pulls up her map app on her phone. 

“Yeah, oh shit, might be the least of it,” Ramiro mutters under his breath. Nina directs Gaston down a new alleyway, and they swerve between streets to try to lose them. “You know when you mentioned we were going on the run from Ambar’s crazy strict aunt, I wasn't picturing this.” Ramiro looks back again, “yeah, well then again, considering this whole year, why am I surprised.”

“Ramiro, shut up,” Gaston hisses.  

“Behind us!” Nina calls out and they swerve another time. 

Gaston turns quickly to the right, but the car is already beside them. It steers in front of them, blocking the road completely. Gaston prepares to go in reverse, but the second his eyes meet the other drivers his mouth drops, and he stops. “Pedro?”

Emilia rolls down the window waves them down. “Hey Jam and Losers!” She opens the door and jumps out. 

The back door opens and out swarms, Jim, Yam, Jazmin, Delfi, Nico and Pedro. “Do you think I can market the video of this chase as a race?” Jazmine says a little too seriously. Delfi, shakes her head at Jazmin, and silently pleads for Jazmine to stop. “Oh, I’m just kidding.” Jim scoffs in disbelief. “Well mostly.”

Pedro walks at the front of the group with a disappointed scowl. “How dare you leave without us. We are a team.”

“Yeah!” Jam calls out. “Someone messes with one of us, they mess with all of us.” Everyone nods in agreement. 

Gaston shakes his head. “No. The point of this is to be discrete. There are too many of us, for all of us to go try to help them.”

“Well duh,” Emilia deadpans. “Thats the first thing we can agree on.” 

“Why are you even-,” Ramiro starts. 

“Just hear her out,” Pedro says calmly. “Hear her out.”

“Fine.”

Emilia pulls out a map. “The plan is to keep that manipuladora, away from Ambar. So, we have a counter proposal. We make three teams of four, each will pretend to be Ambar, Simon, Luna and Matteo until they to throw them off track. We wear wings, we go all out. If we can confuse that mad woman for a couple weeks, hell, a couple days, we are giving Ambar time.”

Nina and Gaston look at each other. Their plan was to catch up to Luna, Simon, Ambar and Matteo discretely help them find protection with Nina’s lawyer mother. This would completely throw their plan out the window. But in the last few days on the run, they have realized the true danger Ambar and Luna are in. Maybe bringing them home isn't the best plan. 

Emilia opens the front car door and gives Gaston a look. “You can’t expect me to think you guys are competent enough to drive around my country with only a google map. Let me help you. I’ll be your guide in theory, we go mostly off the grid, only communicate between each other, and try to piece out what truly happened at the Jam Fest.” Emilia’s eyes darken. “There is no way they committed those crimes.”

“Sounds like more of a plan, than what we’ve got,” Ramiro buds in. “I hate it, but she is right, it’s not like we know the area enough to find them anyways.”

Gaston stays quiet and then turns to Nina. “I think we should do it.”

Nina shakes her read. “It's too risky, my mom could still help protect them-.”

Gaston shakes his head. “Nina, we don't even know where to look. This, although crazy, might be better than our plan.”

Nina shakes her head. She looks out into the crowd. Everyone looks back at her, hopefully and well meaning. Nina sighs and then puts out her hand. “Deal, but all information is shared between the groups.”

Emilia smiles, the shake hands. Nina takes note the gratefulness in Emilia’s eyes, “let's just get our people home.”