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naomikozura · 2 months

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Playing With Fire: Chapter 8

Jason Todd (Red Hood) x Fem!Reader (Criminal)

Trope: Enemies to Lovers, Forbidden Romance

Warnings: strong language, mentions of explosives/bombs, use of weapons/guns, mentions of murder, angst, emotional trauma, mentions of killing someone, arguments, emotional turmoil, plotting, mentions of robbery, kidnapping, and abuse, flashbacks (lmk if I missed any!)

WC: 7.5K

Summary: As you prepare for a meeting with Sionis, you can't help the memories of the past that flood your mind, reliving moments you never thought would be so distant. You feel a sense of regret, something you haven't felt in a long time, wondering where did everything go wrong? And when did everything start to get worse?

Series Masterlist

Chapter 7 || Chapter 9

The sound of Joker’s maniacal laugh broke out into the room once again. You found yourself sitting on the couch, a bored expression on your face, as Joker continued to taunt Sionis’ guards. You could see the glint of fear in their eyes but their training in high profile security made them barely have a reaction. Minus the new hire who got punched in the face by Sionis. He seemed a lot jumpier than the other new guards he’d contracted.

You watched as Sionis conducted his usual meeting, this time focusing more on Joker’s psychotic idea of a plan, and using all the information necessary to lure Red out of hiding. Sionis thought it genius, you thought of it as overkill.

You turned, looking out the window and taking in the darkness of the city. It was late, Penguin had sent you to work with Sionis for the time being, not knowing when his next job would come up so it was good to get payment even if it was through the bastard.

“So when can we get this moving forward?”, Sionis’ deep voice sounded irritated, but you knew he was just impatient. He wanted results a month ago, hell since Red first started to make hits on his operations. He hated losing money so the fact that he’d lost millions over the course of three months made him dangerous and craved the sight of Red’s dead body.

A pull in your gut made you wallow in your thoughts. Your fight with Red entered your mind, wondering how everything turned bad so fast. Your pride refused to let you admit that you overreacted, that he was just trying to help. But the last time you let someone try helping you they ended up abandoning you. You couldn’t help but be cautious. Even if it meant reacting completely out of character.

“Give me a week, maybe two. I'll think of something and then I can get my fun started up”, the smile faded, perhaps it’d been the first time you’d seen Joker without that stupid smirk. “Though, I think it’ll be more fun without her involved.”

Your eyes met Joker’s, narrowing at him as he pointed at you. You sat up, pushing yourself out of the chair and stretching.

“Sounds like a plan.”, you mocked before Sionis snapped his glare at you, his eyes darkening. Although he hated that you rejected him so casually, he knew you were an asset to this more than anything.

“Sit down.” he threatened. “You’re here for a reason.”

You rolled your eyes before plopping back down into the seat. You didn’t even need to be here. Not at Sionis Industries, not even in Gotham. Still, you wanted to see what exactly they were trying to do, regardless of how you felt about it personally.

“I think this will be fun, even with you involved.”, Joker sneered. “In fact, I’ll find a special part for you to play!”

“I don’t want a special part in your dumb game.”, you muttered.

“Oh you’re feisty!”, he clapped. “I love this already.”

God, you couldn’t believe you were really sitting in a room full of men having to listen to them go over a plan and address you like some after thought. You turned around, letting their conversation blend into the background as you sat around for another hour. When they finally finished, you got up and left.

It was almost 4am.

You needed to get some sleep, try to get some sleep, but you’d felt waves of insomnia crash into you as the days went by. You tried drinking tea, medicine, everything to get you back on a normal schedule but it felt like your body was going through every possible loop to keep you from having a comfortable night of rest.

You walked around your apartment, walking to the restroom to finish getting ready to try and sleep when you looked over at the duffel bags in the closet. You still haven't touched the money. Hadn’t started to slowly deposit it or even used it for anything. You couldn’t bring yourself to use the money. Even though you had done the work to deserve the payout, a piece of you still refused to use it.

Shaking your head, you changed into a cami and shorts, trying to ignore the thoughts in your head before they quickly came back. You pulled your hair into a ponytail, your neck exposed as you stared at yourself in the mirror. You ran a hand over your neck, the lingering of Red’s touch evident on your skin. You had small bite marks that had started to bruise, not too dark but slowly fading. As much as you tried to ignore the little chips he made at your armor, you couldn’t keep them at bay forever. Your skin felt like it was on fire, the blush creeping up your neck as you turned, moving away from the exposure the mirror gave to the marks on your skin.

You let your body fall on the bed, the sheets cool on your skin as you stare at the ceiling, letting your argument get to you again. You turned towards the window, laying relaxed against the sheets and breathing in the natural smell of your apartment. It smelled like sage and lavender, a relaxing and calming aroma that allowed you to feel a sense of relief. Though, the emptiness you felt in your chest at the moment provided you no sense of relief, it made you heavy with remorse.

Your pride, your anger, your trauma, it all made you react towards Red in a way you wished you hadn’t. He was trying to help you, trying to understand, and you just pushed him away. You had your reservations about everything having to do with him but somehow, over the weeks, it all changed. You convinced yourself you let him live because of your hatred towards Sionis, but once Sionis was removed from the picture entirely you couldn’t bring yourself to come up with reasons to dislike him. Especially not after the Gala.

Regardless of his family, he still treated you like an equal. In midst of all the fights, the arguing, the hits, the targeting, he knew you were talented, strong, smart, quick, and he respected you in a way not many men in this life could openly admit they did. It made him stand out in a way regardless of the fact that he was another vigilante running around on the street wreaking havoc.

You let yourself fall into sleep, watching as the darkness consumed your body and whispered a lullaby of reassurance, leaving you feeling the warmth of the night.

“Calvi finally agreed to come over to our side of business.”, Penguin’s voice sounded as he shifted through the papers on his desk. You looked up at him from the filing cabinet as you looked for specific paperwork he needed to follow up with an investor on one of his businesses. You pulled the file, skimming the contents, before walking over to his desk and setting it down gently.

“When did he confirm his new alliance?”

“Just a few days after the Gala. Said he wanted to get more insight on our operation and agreed whenever you put mention of my name on the table. Said he’d rather have business investments that will benefit his own businesses while having protection than just having bare minimum protection.”, you hummed in response. It made sense. Calvi always wanted to ensure his businesses were kept under top security, himself included considering his ties within the underground. He hadn’t reached out to you for a few days, probably working on his own business needs but a part of you was glad you wouldn’t have to deal with him again. Although he looked the part of the ideal partner, he was far from it and not the thing you wanted.

“I don’t have anything new for you, so just stick with Sionis until something comes up”, a piece of you felt a tug of annoyance at having to work with Sionis so closely, but you only nodded. You continued to help him fix his paperwork, getting a few miniscule things finished before heading home for the night.

“I think I can wrap up. You can go ahead.”, Penguin motioned as you watched him intently. He’d been a lot less busy, but then again, it was slow season at the Lounge and the majority of his efforts were spent helping Sionis catch Red. Another pang of emotion hit you in the gut, making your hands twitch slightly before you pulled them back. “Be careful, it’s supposed to down pour tonight.”

You nodded as you walked to your locker, putting everything away before you went home for the evening. You slid on the jacket you brought with you to cover you from the rain. It’d started to rain a lot more this week, which didn’t make it convenient considering you had walked today. A cab might be the better option to avoid the water, but you decided against it, especially on this side of town.

You pulled the hood over your head, grabbing your bag and leaving the Lounge as you walked through the streets. It was only 7pm so the light was still out but the clouds made it seem a lot later than it actually was. You couldn’t really bring yourself to focus on anything this week, you needed to snap into focus before tomorrow. You needed to complete the job, letting your mind wander to a million different things would keep you from completing your work.

The streets were filled with people trying to get home, most of them wearing raincoats or with umbrellas, cars filling the streets as you heard the distant rumble of the sky as the thunder sounded out. It had started raining more, especially considering that Gotham wasn’t usually in rain season this time of the year. Then again, the rain and gloomy clouds added to the ambiance of the city. It seemed fitting for a place like Gotham.

You found yourself nearing your apartment, looking up to take in the look of the sky before continuing towards your building. You had gotten soaked, your bag was luckily covered in a material that was partially rain resistant, so it wouldn’t get your personal things wet, regardless they were replaceable so it didn’t make you worry too much.

Navigating through the people who lived in your area seemed easy enough, but it had gotten a lot more crowded since the rents had dropped. More people were moving in and that meant there would be more people wandering around your complex. You tried to push through the people, and even though it wasn’t crowded, a body still hit your shoulder. You push back, snapping around you trying to yell at the person who’d bumped into you only for the words to die in your mouth.

Your eyes widened at the sight of Red in front of you. No mask, no suit. Just dark jeans, an oversized hoodie, and his body drenched in water. His eyes stared at yours in a widened glance, the rain falling around both of you and the people moving around your frozen bodies. You met his green eyes, silent as you stared at him in shock.

Why was he on this side of town?

You didn’t have time for this, you couldn’t talk to him, not like this. You turned towards the streets that led to your home before you felt a hand wrap around your wrist, pulling you back as your head swiveled around to look at him again.

“Y/n.”, was all he said because just like you, he couldn’t find anything to say. He wanted to talk, wanted to apologize but his pride and ego made him feel small. He had no right to ask for you to hear him out. Yet, he didn’t let go of your wrist. “Please”

You look at the ground, narrowing your eyes and furrowing your brows, trying to find the words to say to him in the middle of your anger, in the midst of your disappointment.

“I.. I’m sorry.”, he said as the rain covered his words, the downpour made it difficult to hear him but you heard the words clear as day. You felt a tug in your chest.

“I have to go.”, you tried pulling away but he kept you still, pulling down his hood and letting you see him fully. His hair was overly saturated with water and his clothes were far more drenched than yours were. You had tried staying in covered spaces while on your walk home to minimize getting soaked but you ended up with wet clothes anyway.

“Y/n, I mean it.”, he breathed. “I’m sorry for the other night.”

You clenched your teeth, tightening your jaw as he continued. “I shouldn’t have said what I did that day. I know you’ve tried everything to get to where you are and even if you don’t realize it, you’re worth far more than any of those lowlives. Even if you don’t accept my apology or never talk to me again, I just wanted to say I’m sorry for that night.”

“Yeah”, you whispered.

“I..”, his other hand fisted as he forced himself to say his next words. “Even if you don’t believe me, I know what it’s like to not have control or power. I know why you do the things you do, you had no other choice. I didn’t have another choice either. It’s not that you haven’t figured it out, you have. That’s why you’re leaving.”

Your lachrymose eyes met his dark ones, showing his honesty in every one of his words.

“I hope you find what you’re looking for wherever you go.”, he smiled weakly. “I hope it’s better than here.”, he let go of your hand, relaxing as he watched you intently. You couldn’t bring yourself to say anything to him. He was finally understanding why you’d worked with Penguin, why you put up with Sionis, why you struggled to find a way out of the city that took everything from you. You had no reason to stay, and even if there was a sliver of reason, it didn’t exist anymore. It hadn’t existed in years.

You turned away from him, the echo of his words ringing in your ears as the volume spoke over the cracking of the thunder.

“Is it worth it?”

His words held a double meaning. You paused, contemplating a response as you read between the lines far too quickly.

Is this worth giving yourself up for?

The weight of his question lingered in the air, a haunting reminder of the sacrifices made and the dreams that you were forced to abandon. You faced the storm, the wind whipping around you, and felt the chill of uncertainty seeping into your bones. The city behind you, with its tangled webs and broken promises, had always been a place of struggle and compromise. With his words ringing through the winds, you questioned if all the work you’d done, the price you paid, was it all worth it for that freedom you’d always dreamt of?

Deep down, you wanted to believe that it was worth it, that all of this had been for something and not just a broken dream you were trying so hard to mend. You already lost so much, given up pieces of yourself for people like Penguin and Sionis, and in the end you were scared you’d end up with nothing.

The storm raged on, but within you, a quiet resolve began to take shape. You took a deep breath, turning your gaze back towards him one last time. The truth in his eyes was undeniable—he understood more than anyone could. You could see the reflection of your own doubts in his dark gaze, and with a nod of silent understanding, you gave him the answer he needed.

Even if it was a lie.

“Yes,” you finally said, though the words were barely audible over the wind of the storm. And with that, you walked away, leaving him behind and moving towards the darkness of your apartment.

The next morning was busy as you walked through the streets, letting your mind wander and getting a few errands finished before meeting with Sionis tonight. You were called in to get the information you needed to help carry out Joker’s plan, though you knew you’d find a way out of it entirely.

Your mind couldn’t help but go back to Red, the entire fight with him just eating at you. You felt a sting in your chest at his words the other day, a big piece of you regretting that fight entirely. You knew he meant well, but you didn’t live in a position to give others the benefit of the doubt. It was kill or be killed, the most crucial game of survival and you were playing it to your fullest extent. You weren’t going to let yourself be caught in a web that would lead to your demise.

As you walked past a small restaurant, you lingered, watching a young couple sitting together as they smiled at one another. You’d wondered if that was why your life could be like if you’d just…. stayed with the family. If Robin had stayed around.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Flashback

“Rob, come on, let’s go try this new cafe I saw”

“Okay, okay. Relax we got all day.”, Robin muttered, a piece of you excited to try the cafe that had just opened.

“I think this will be fun”, you smile at him, his smirk spreading across his lips as you tugged him with you, his eyes hidden behind bud signature dark glasses.

“So, is this considered our first date?”, he teased as he caught up to your speed, his hand lacing in yours as he smiled down at you from the height difference. He was dressed in dark jeans, a loose fitting dark shirt and a jacket over top, his hair messy as always.

“I don’t know, if I don’t know what you look like wouldn’t it be a blind date?”, you cocked your head slightly.

“I think that only counts if you’ve never met the person before. We already know each other”, he raised an eyebrow.

“Well until you show me what you look like, we can call these friendly dates.”

“You see me as a friend?”, Robin raised a hand to his chest, “I’m honored”

You shoved him slightly, letting your hair fall in your face as you laughed at him.

The two of you normally would meet at night, so going out during the day was a big move for both of you, especially considering you were publicly hanging out with someone when you never had before. It was him. He made you disregard any type of snide comments anyone could make. He knew about the people at Gotham Academy that would make fun of you, wishing he could make it stop but you went to different schools. So, his company was good enough to forget all about those other students.

It was warm, spring time was nice in Gotham sans the rain, making the day nice to walk around the streets and take in the city through a day time lense.

You leaned into him, grabbing his arm as you sank into his presence. It was nice having someone you could talk to about everything, especially someone like him. You felt like someone could finally see you, understood you, someone finally… cared.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The slight breeze blew your hair from your face as you moved through the crowds of people, the busy streets of Gotham a stark contrast to the inner turmoil you had going on. The towering buildings loomed above, casting long shadows that seemed to mirror the darkness you felt inside. You checked the time on your phone again, knowing you still had a few hours before your meeting with Sionis.

Regret gnawed at you, an unwelcome feeling since your last encounter with Red. You could still see the hurt in his eyes, a flicker of betrayal that cut deeper than any physical wound. You hadn’t meant for things to go that way, but your pride wouldn’t let you back down. You were too afraid to show weakness, too afraid to let him see how scared you were to let someone in.

You wondered if he’d be the one who could’ve won you over, could’ve made you lower your walls and let yourself feel what it was like to just be a normal person in this godforsaken city. A piece of you wondered if he was thinking about you too. Did he also feel like there was something unresolved? Did he think about the fight? Was he also regretting it? Did it hurt him like it hurt you?

You let out a shaky breath, letting your thoughts spiral and holding on to the hope that maybe, just maybe, you could fix things between the two of you. Should you find him, send him a signal to meet at the rooftop you’d always see each other at? You looked at the ground as you walked through the streets, taking a deep breath and moving through the crowd.

You needed to get home, it would be soon that you’d have to meet with Sionis and Joker, you needed to focus. As you walked through the streets, the city swallowed you up once more, but the regret remained, a silent whisper in the back of your mind.

Flash back

The warm breeze rustled through the trees as you and Robin moved through the hidden paths of Gotham’s hidden, less known parks. This was one of the few days they would go out together, knowing they could finally get away from only seeing each other at night. You enjoyed moments during the day a lot more, you felt like he did too but never asked, it seemed a lot more normal. The both of you reached a secluded pond, the sun making the water glisten in a golden glow.

You kicked off your shoes, walking to the water to dip your feet in, smiling at the warmth of the water. You turned over to Robin who stood staring at you with a smile on his face. “Come on, come feel the water.”

He shook his head slightly, bending over and rolling up his jeans, proceeding to take off his shoes before walking next to you. “You know, I don’t think Batman would approve of this.”

“You care too much about what he thinks.”, you teased. “Besides, Batman isn’t here, is he? It’s just you and me.”

“Yeah, I guess so.”, he shrugged. “He can be a bit controlling sometimes but I know he means well.”

You hummed in response, looking down at the water surrounding your feet, your reflections staring right back at you. The silence covered both of you like a blanket of comfort and tranquility. Sometimes the both of you were more than content not speaking, it was what made you like hanging out with him, he didn’t fear the quiet.

“Y/n”, he said finally after what felt like forever. “What do you want to do once you finish everything? You know, if both of us ever get the chance to leave Gotham?”

“I don’t know.”, you looked at the water, your eyes focused on the ripples that slowly formed from you moving your weight to be distributed evenly. “I’d like to travel, move to another city, anything to make everything feel more normal.”

“Yeah,” he breathed. “We can go to another city and just forget Gotham. Just you and me.”,

You smiled at him as he looked at you with a warm smile, the kind of warmth that leaves you feeling like everything would be okay no matter how difficult times got. He always made you feel okay no matter what.

The silence came over you again, the trees surrounding both of you, creating a tranquil and calming background. You felt Robin intertwined his fingers into yours, this thumb rubbing the back of your hand as he turned towards you. “Promise me something.”, he said softly, his hair falling over his forehead.

“Anything.”, you replied, turning to face him.

“Promise me that no matter what happens, you'll find a way to be happy. Even if it's without me."

Your heart tightened at his words, squeezing his hand in yours. "I promise, but only if you promise the same."

He smiled, a bittersweet expression that hinted at the weight he carried. "I promise."

You felt your heart beat faster, letting yourself soak in the moment before the both of you went back to your home. As you walked back in silence, you couldn’t stop smiling, wanting these moments to never end. Always wanting them with him.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You looked out at the city below from your window sill, the quiet rush of the cars below adding to the ambiance of the afternoon. You felt a heaviness in your heart, the memory of that day in the park was as vivid as ever. The promise you made to Robin, to be happy even if it was without him, it stung knowing you wouldn’t be happy with him. You tried finding the good from the bad, tried to find happiness in the middle of all the shitty hands you’d been dealt over the years, but that gaping hole in your chest made it hard to go on. You felt a piece of you just got ripped from your chest and you were left to walk through the world with a heart broken.

You reached up to play with the small pendant on your necklace, the silence letting you sit with your thoughts. How do you open up to anyone the way you did with him after he left? After he made you feel like you were worth everything to being left feeling like nothing. You clung to the memory of your laughter, your dreams, and your unspoken love, even as the world around you grew darker. You knew you had started to feel stronger feelings than just like towards him, you both were just teenagers but you knew deep down he was more than just someone who would stay for a short while. You knew he’d be long term.

Believed.

Because he just wasn’t anymore. He wasn’t long term nor was he anything more than a memory. You turned to get ready for your meeting with Sionis and Joker, wiping the stray tear that fell down your cheek as you let your walls build back up into a fortress of solitude, mentally preparing for the night ahead. You couldn’t let your past haunt you, but with the way you’d been acting towards Red, it was like all of those memories just flooded back, explaining why you’d been so short, cold, distant. Still, weakness wasn’t an option. Not in Gotham. Not with the life you’d chosen. But in the walls of your apartment, the walls of your bedroom, you’d let yourself break. You’d give yourself those moments of weakness to endure the pain you’d never truly healed from, the hurt of being abandoned so easily just like everyone else in her life had done to her, it all only happened in the confines of your apartment. You’d let yourself reminisce, let yourself look back on the memories allowing yourself to find a sliver of happiness in the promises you once made with Robin.

The promises you’d made to each other.

Even if he broke all of his.

Flashback

The sun dipped slowly behind the Gotham skyline, casting a golden hue over the rooftop where you and Robin sat. You laughed as you watched him balance himself on the ledge of the building, his street clothing not providing much balance since his pants were baggy and it looked like he almost tripped over himself.

“You’re going to fall, you know.”, you called out, shaking your head but smiling at him nonetheless.

“Not a chance.”, he replied with a grin before effortlessly hopping down to sit beside you. “That would be major ego damage considering I’m a literal sidekick to the city’s most known vigilante.”

You rolled your eyes at him, “Yeah, and then Batman would have to fire you. The news would eat that up.”, you lifted your hands and made a headline motion. “Breaking News: Batman fires the Boy Wonder, the reason? Lack of balance and coordination.”

He nudged you as the both of you laughed, his smile was warm and sweet, making your heart flutter at how he looked so handsome in such a casual setting. You laid back, looking at the clouds as they started to turn into a golden color due to the sunset, letting the warm weather sink into your skin. Robin turned his head towards you, his expression softening at your laid back demeanor,

“Tell me something.”, he said softly.

“Huh?”, you turned towards him, cocking an eyebrow in confusion.

“Tell me something you’ve never told anyone else.”, he repeated, his eyes filled with curiosity as you looked at him.

“What? No, you first.”, you nudged him.

He turned his head back towards the sky, taking in a deep breath and taking a moment to think. “"I used to be afraid of the dark. Crazy, right? Gotham's full of shadows, and I'm out there every night."

You laughed softly. "Not crazy at all. I used to be scared of thunderstorms. The noise, the flashes of light—it was scary as hell. Especially being on the street and hearing people screaming. It all felt so overwhelming."

He reached out, taking your hand in his. "We're not so different, are we?"

You squeezed his hand, feeling a warmth spread through your chest. "No, I guess we're not."

The dim light of your restroom mirror cast a soft glow on your skin as you pulled your hair out of the towel it was in, drying it before having to head out to Sionis Industries for your meeting with Sionis and Joker. You watched yourself as you dried your hair with the blow dryer quickly, letting your hair sit on your neck still a bit damp as you applied some makeup. Although you didn’t need much, you still liked wearing it. It gave you more confidence, made you more bold. You applied mascara gently, watching yourself as you pulled back from leaning over the sink. Your eyes held a trace of melancholy—a reflection of the memories that never quite left you.

You quickly changed into a pair of dark jeans that fit your body perfectly, the black tee paired with it as you pulled on your leather jacket. You did a final look in the mirror before feeling good enough to head out, your mind still in shambles as you left through the window and to your bike in the alley below.

The streets weren’t too busy tonight, but it was still early. Having a meeting at 9pm seemed strange enough as it is, most times Sionis liked to call them in the middle of the day or in the middle of the night. You wondered why he would call for such an early time, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care.

Arriving at Sionis Industries was easy enough, it would be dealing with Sionis and his disgusting self that would pose as the greatest difficulty. Out of anything, you could always expect for him to try and convince you to work for him or be his. Something you would always deny.

What else could possibly happen that would surprise you?

You walked through the building, using the access card to swipe into the door and reach the elevator that brought you to Sionis’ office. The guards nodded towards you before opening the door and letting you in, Sionis immediately skimming your body as he smirked, Joker lounging on the sofa as a twisted smile played on his lips.

“Y/n”, Sionis greeted you, his tone serious but also had a hint of amusement. “Finally here,”

Joker’s eyes watched you with curiosity and mischief as he smiled at you. “Aren’t you dressed up all nice?”

You couldn’t help but roll your eyes, grabbing a chair and plopping down in it as you crossed your legs and sitting opposite of them. “Alright. What are we here for?”

“Relax lambchop, we’ll figure it out soon enough.”, Joker laughed maniacally as you narrowed your eyes at him. “I have a good idea of what to do, let’s hope it’s just as fun in action as it is in my head.”

Great. You knew he was about to explain this in intense detail. Joker was one for theatrics so you wouldn’t put it past him to create a whole idea of how exactly every part of his stupid plan would go.

Joker leaned forward, his eyes full of an unsettling mix of mischief and madness. “Alright, picture this: we’re going to execute a plan so chaotic, so beautifully disorganized that it will make every other plan look like a kindergarten craft project.”

He paused for dramatic effect, his grin stretching wider. “We’re going to use a high-profile, yet subtle diversion to grab Batman’s attention. Something that screams ‘look at me’ but doesn’t blow up in our faces. I’m thinking of something like an orchestrated crime spree—a series of high-impact, carefully staged incidents across Gotham.” Joker leaned back, his eyes gleaming with unrestrained excitement as he began laying out the details of his plan.

You raised an eyebrow. “And these incidents?”

Joker waved a hand dismissively. “Oh, just a series of carefully planned heists and disturbances. Let’s say a jewelry store robbery where the ‘thieves’ leave behind a trail of glittering jewels as a calling card. A string of arson cases where the buildings are left untouched, but the flames form a message. Something flashy enough to make Batman’s ears perk up, but not so catastrophic that it draws every law enforcement officer in the city.”

“And the goal is to get Batman’s attention. Then what?”, you were not following his stupid plan at all. How did Red fit into this? He was the goal not Batman.

“Exactly!” Joker’s grin was nearly maniacal. “Once Batman is sufficiently distracted by the chaos we’re creating, we set the real trap. The key is to make sure he’s lured into a specific area—a rundown warehouse on the edge of town. It’s got the right amount of isolation and drama for a grand showdown.”

Joker paused for effect, letting the anticipation build. “The warehouse will be rigged with a variety of surprises. Hidden cameras, explosives, and a few more ‘enhancements’ to ensure that once the Bat shows up, he’s not just dealing with one problem. No, no, he’ll be dealing with a carefully orchestrated mess.”

“And Red Hood? How does he fit into this?”

Joker’s eyes sparkled. “Well all of this is for us to lure Hoodie out. He’s at arms with the Bats, so if we get the Bat’s attention, we get the Hood’s!”

Sionis glared daggers at Joker, his patience visibly fraying. “You think this is a joke? I need this done, Joker. I don’t have time for your little games.”

Joker’s grin didn’t falter. “Oh, I’m not joking. Trust me, this will be a grand spectacle. We get Batman involved, and the Hood will come crawling out of his hole just to join the fray. It’s like a free-for-all, and everyone loves a good free-for-all.”

Sionis’s eyes narrowed.

“And what if Batman doesn’t show? Or worse, what if they both decide to focus on you?”, you spoke up, not wanting to see another one of Sionis’ fits.

Joker chuckled. “Then we get a front-row seat to the greatest showdown Gotham has ever seen. Either way, the plan is to ensure that your problem, Red Hood, becomes nonexistent—preferably permanently.”

You leaned back in your chair, considering the chaos Joker was proposing. “Alright, assuming this works and we draw out the Hood. What’s the plan for getting rid of him?”

“Ah, that’s where the real artistry comes in,” Joker said, his eyes twinkling with mischief. “We’ll set up a little stage for our confrontation—somewhere dramatic, like an old warehouse. And when the time’s right, we’ll make sure the Hood gets a front-row seat to his own demise.”

Sionis ran a hand over his mouth, clearly stressed with Joker’s plan.

“All I need is a couple of explosives, maybe find a good bank to rob just to draw him out a little. Something unexpected but also predictable. It’ll bring him out for sure.”

“We don’t have time or money to waste on a stupid bank robbery! I need him to come out and I need you to kill him. That’s what I paid your bond for, not to play dress up!”, Sionis slammed his fist on the table, finally snapping as Joker staring at him with a deadpan face as he picked at his nails.

“You’re irritable today.”

“I’m losing more money every minute this son of a bitch is out on the street, so yes. I am irritable today. Everyday!”, the clipped sound of his tone made it obvious that Sionis was over Joker’s antics, but you couldn’t care less. If anyone deserved to be toyed with it was Sionis, especially him.

“Take it easy, I got it under control.”, and suddenly Joker smiled like he got a new thought into his delusional mind. “It’ll be fun”

“I want someone’s head on my wall and it’s either gonna be the Red headed bastard or yours. If this doesn’t work I’m sawing your fucking head off.”, a ringing echoed through the room as Sionis stood to his feet, walking out of the room as some of his guards followed him out.

The silence left you a bit uneasy, but it was the Joker who left you on edge more than anything else. The rest of the guards stepped outside, leaving only two inside the room as you watched Joker play with the materials on Sionis’ desk. You wondered for a split second what could have made Joker be so inhuman, so out of touch, so… psychotic. You’d always heard stories about his lack of care or empathy, or any regular human thinking. He was too far gone, more so than any other criminal within Gotham or other cities. He was one of the heavy hitters, one of the most dangerous. If you didn’t work with Penguin and be under his protection, you would fear him a little more than you did now.

Still, caution was never overdone when it came to people like him.

“So, do you think this plan will actually help lure him out?”, you knew where he was, but that wasn’t information for you to share. Not like you would have anyway.

“I think it’ll get him motivated.”, Joker leaned back in his chair, his movements staying controlled as he looked at the ceiling. “Besides, the bank robbery isn’t the only thing that will get him out.”

You cocked an eyebrow at him. “What else then? Using Batman?”

“No, I have a trip down memory lane planned for us, something that will surely make him feel… nostalgic.”.

Nostalgia…

What did he mean?

“Going back to old practices?”, you started to feel on edge, but covered it with indifference and annoyance. Though the annoyance was actually peeking through with every mysterious, open ended phrase he said. It made you want to punch him in the face.

“No, I want to talk about our estranged relationship. I miss when he and I could play around and talk about life. I had my fun with him before, I think we’re over due for a reunion. It’ll be time for round two.”

“Round two?”, that piqued your interest, his entire spiel did. “You’ve gone head to head with him before?”

“We met for the first time maybe…. Five? No, six years ago. He wasn’t this stupid Hood character back then, but let me say, he had no originality back then either. He just stole someone else’s suit like now and made it his own.”

“Maybe he just likes to be a copycat. Can’t blame him, it’s easy to take over once someone is out of the picture. Reinventing the villain, you know.”, you rolled your eyes, annoyed that you were even entertaining him like this. Though a part of you wanted to know how exactly Joker and Red had met before. Was Red the reason Joker got put into Arkham?

“Reinventing is so boring. At least now it’s fun because I can kill him again!”

“Again?”, your brows furrowed. Joker.. killed Red?

Some of you found it hard to believe, another part wouldn’t believe it because if Red died, he would be about six feet under, not parading around the streets of Gotham looking to kill Joker.

“I killed him once before but it was far more fun then. Didn’t even know it was him until I realized he was also going after the Bats!”

“If he’s supposed to be dead, how is he alive?”, you mocked.

“I don’t know how he’s alive, but it doesn’t matter. He won’t be that way much longer.”

You crossed your arms, still looking at him from where he sat before turning and looking out the window at the city.

“So, how did you kill him?”, you asked more out of genuine curiosity than care but still wanted to know more about Red. What you could from anyone that wasn’t him.

“I blew him up!”, Joker’s hands made an exploding motion before he leaned forward and laughed. “Oh, I tied him up and beat him with a crowbar. He just laid there and took it like a champ! I must say it was boring, wish he would have fought a little more but hey, it was a fun party.”

“Was this before you were imprisoned in Arkham?”

“Wayyy before.”, he smiled at you with a maniacal smile before grabbing a pencil and messing with it. “I think it was around spring time, maybe April. Oh but it was snowing so who’s to say if it was actually in April.”

April…

You looked at him, the tiniest sliver of realization clicking in your head.

Six years ago…. April…

“So what, did he go by the Crimson Helmet or something stupid?”, you leaned on the desk slightly as you watched him, slowly losing patience in him and the conversation.

“No, it was something funnier, like an animal or something.”

You raised an eyebrow at him . This man truly was delusional; he couldn't even remember the name of someone who’d given him this much trouble before. You rolled your eyes, finally getting away from the maniac and heading home.

“What was it…”, he muttered to himself. You pushed yourself off the desk, annoyed with the conversation as you walked towards the door, his words still ringing out. You wanted to sleep. You’d been here all night with them and this had gotten nowhere. Not to mention the rain was about to come down for the third time this week and you did not want to get caught in the rain again.

“Rabbit… Rocket…”, he continued.

As you reached for the door, Joker stood in realization, his voice ripping through the silence as he laughed. You turned to look at him as he ran hands through his messy green hair and sucked in deep breaths to keep up with his laughter. Your hand was about to open the door before his voice forced you to pause.

“I remember!”, he raised his voice. “He went by the Boy Blunder. The Bat’s little sidekick!”

You froze.

Cold water dousing your skin, ice running through your veins. You felt the pit of your stomach drop as his words echoed within the walls of the room. Your heart was pounding in your chest, you felt your vision get hazy, your ears ringing in shock and disbelief as you slowly turned to look at Joker. He was still standing, his hands still through his hair as he walked over to the window and looking out.

“Oh I remember, his bones cracked and he couldn’t talk, I’m guessing from all the blood in his collapsed lung and I broke a few ribs. He was far more rude than the first Boy Blunder, at least he had some manners.”

You felt the knife in your gut twist more with every word. The sinking realization flooding your body. The roof, the necklace, the earrings, the painting, the endless times he’d move you out of getting hurt, the way he refused to make any hit that would result in serious injury, the way he knew things about you that you’d never told him, after months…it all clicked.

“You.. killed Batman’s sidekick?”

Joker’s wicked smile spread over his face, the skin stretching in a macabre and frightening way as he recalled the events of that night in the warehouse.

“Yes.”, he said in a dark, evil tone as his laugh cracked through the silence of the room. “And I can’t wait to do it again.”

A/N:

Hi everyone! I hope you've all had a great week and have had a good summer so far! Here is the next chapter! It's finally getting towards the ending, I think we have a handful of chapters before the series ends! Don't worry, I'm making sure it wraps up nicely!

Also I am also working on another mini series! Its a Jujutsu Kaisen mini series thats Sukuna x Reader so check that out if you like JJK!

Please keep the comments and messages coming, I love hearing from you guys!

See you next week xx.

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batneko · 1 year

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Okay I was trying to come up with a sugar daddy bowuigi AU and I ended up spending so much time thinking about the setting that this is gonna be another long one

So! It's modern day, big city. I prefer to think of it as still a world full of magic and mushrooms and monsters but if y'all want to picture this as a human AU feel free. In this world instead of a king Bowser is the third-generation owner of the biggest demolition company in the city. They took a slight dent lately because Bowser doesn't exactly get along with the city planner... but the company is still best in the business and not hurting for work.

Then there's the Mario brothers, who run a tiny independent plumbing company and by sheer coincidence have a phone number exactly one digit off from Koopa Demolition. They're good at what they do but because they can only take at most two jobs at a time they sometimes struggle. And they can't cut costs (any more than they already have) so the only leg up they have on the competition is promising to be faster than anyone else at the same price. It means they have to work a lot harder (and will definitely backfire sooner or later) but right now they're doing pretty well. Reasonably well. They're doing okay.

Having nearly the same number as a different business means that occasionally both groups will show up somewhere thinking they're about to negotiate a contract only to find out they just wasted their time and gas money. Hard feelings build up. Once, when the bros actually managed to convince a building owner to replace the lead pipes instead of tearing everything down, Mario and Bowser very nearly got into a physical fight. (It doesn't help that Mario is dating Bowser's ex though neither of them will admit that's part of it.)

And then one night Bowser goes back to a demo site to check on something, ends up getting hurt, and Luigi happens to be working late on a job nearby and comes to his rescue. He insists on accompanying Bowser all the way to the hospital, and while he's waiting with him mentions that it turned out to be a good thing the van broke down because if he wasn't walking back to the subway he might not have heard Bowser cry out. Bowser asks how Luigi is going to get home now, since it's so late the subway isn't running anymore, and Luigi says "I'll... I'll figure something out." Bowser calls one of his people and makes them give Luigi a ride. It's awkward for everyone.

The next day a tow truck shows up to take the Mario Bros' van to a mechanic. They're like "we didn't order this??" and the driver just says it was paid for in advance. Luigi realizes what happened and, thinking about the bad blood between Mario and Bowser, tells him the client last night was really grateful for him working late. Mario says they should thank him and Luigi says he definitely will.

So he goes to see Bowser, who is still laid up with a broken foot, and brings him a fruit basket. Bowser is like, I will absolutely eat this fruit but fixing the van was supposed to be payment for Luigi's help. He doesn't like feeling indebted. And Luigi says it was too much! There must be something Luigi can do to thank him properly.

Well... there's this stupid local businessman dinner that Bowser really didn't want to go to. Having somebody to talk to will make it more bearable. Luigi says sure, and the day of the dinner Bowser picks him up two hours early to go out and buy him a suit. Top to bottom, shoes and all. Luigi is a little offended Bowser didn't think he had nice enough clothes... but once they get to the venue and see what everyone else is wearing he can admit he did not have nice enough clothes.

The dinner goes well. Luigi IS a local businessman and nobody questions what he's doing there, even if they haven't heard of his company. Talking with Bowser is surprisingly easy, especially since plumbing and demolition have enough overlap that they can chat about work without having to explain much. They have a lot of similar gripes about clients and contracts and tools.

After a pretty nice evening and maybe one too many glasses of wine, it's all too easy to forget this wasn't supposed to be a date-date and fall into bed with Bowser. When Luigi gets home, rumpled and dressed in clothes he didn't leave in, Mario just congratulates him on what looks like a successful night.

A few days later there's a delivery. A brand new set of the power tools Luigi had mentioned he daydreamed about. Luigi calls Bowser and says this is too much, he can't accept it, and Bowser just says, "keep 'em or throw 'em out, I'm not taking them back. Already wrote them off as a business expense."

Luigi keeps them, but he can't explain this one away. He tells Mario that the person he went out with last week is... from a different socio-economic bracket. (Mario is not allowed to judge, Peach pays for most of their dates too.) They both avoid using the S-D words, but Mario says he feels too weird accepting work equipment from a stranger. Better tell the guy to stick to personal gifts.

So with something like brotherly approval, Luigi starts dating Bowser. He gets clothes, a new phone, fancy dinners and nights at expensive hotels. Bowser is not a bad date (except for when he is) but Luigi always feels a little weird knowing that their relationship is transactional. Even though Bowser clearly likes him and wants to make him happy, Luigi feels like he can't speak up about Bowser being demanding or talking down to people. Because if he's not agreeable enough Bowser will just find somebody new.

Meanwhile, Bowser has NO IDEA that Luigi thinks this. Somewhere along the line he got it in his head that his affection is a burden. He hasn't thought about this enough to put it into words, but he feels like he needs to reward people for being around him or they'll leave. He's not even trying to be a sugar daddy, he treats all of the (few) people he loves like this.

It's not until they've been dating long enough for Luigi to meet Bowser's son that anything changes. Luigi immediately sees that Bowser is pulling the old "new toys make up for not actually being around, right?" and can't stop himself from telling him that NO it does NOT make up for it. Your son wants your TIME.

He's extremely surprised when Bowser listens. And after Luigi tells him that asking Junior about his day and his hobbies will make him feel more cared about, Bowser starts making an effort to ask Luigi those things too.

Eventually he starts to think that... maybe? Bowser has just been romantically incompetent this whole time? So he tests it, and the next time Bowser tries to demand he take a week off to go on a boring business trip with him, Luigi (calmly but firmly) says that he can't possibly miss that much work but Bowser can call and talk to him every day. Bowser goes for it. He actually seems really excited that Luigi is "allowing" him to have so much of his attention.

Oof. Now Luigi feels bad.

After a couple more weeks of trying to wean Bowser off buying his affection (except paying the phone bill because Luigi seriously couldn't afford to do that himself) Luigi asks Bowser if he can officially call them boyfriends?

Bowser practically falls all over himself to agree. Everything is good, they understand each other, Luigi even has his own section in Bowser's closet. He could see this relationship lasting for the rest of his life.

Now he just needs to figure out how to tell his brother...

#bowuigi #bowser #luigi #bowuigi au #modern au #super mario bros #bowluigi #bowigi #luwser #green shell

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nanaminokanojo · 1 year

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THAWING ICE QUEEN (part 12)

–one night of fooling around with the annoying campus king gojo satoru (he thinks so), turns into...well, something else more long term

CHARACTERS: gojo satoru x you | geto suguru | jjk characters

MASTERLIST | CHAPTER INDEX

<<prev part 12 next>>

NOTE: This has narration in prose.

~*~

Gojo Satoru was one persistent man, you gotta give him that. When he said your wish is his command, he delivered, so you don't really have any excuses to further refuse him. He took your opinion on the contract seriously, passed it by you without fail and exceeded expectations. You had the choice to stop whatever madness the two of you were cooking up, so you had that as a buffer to see how things go.

It's a very different situation for the both of you. Neither of you had been in bed with the same person twice. You thought that was convenient, spares you from that awkward phase of having to deal with the messy things that come along with commitment. But regardless of how much you and Satoru reiterate on the point of having no strings attached, it was still a form of commitment. You didn't know yet whether you liked the nature of that bond regardless if it was limited to the physical aspect.

But it was convenient. You could admit at least that. If it's just sex, then you wouldn't have to go through the motions of meeting people, getting to know them enough to say they're not psychos and establishing that mutual agreement of never seeing each other again. Satoru was familiar ground for once, and you more or less knew what to expect from him with the security of a written agreement adding to your supposed security.

Now it was a game of waiting to see who is gonna crack first, but that's a problem for future you. It's arrogant to think that there are no consequences to what you are about to involve yourself in because there will be, and you knew neither of you are stupid as to deny that. Accepting that fact is the first step. You'll deal with the mess later.

Or maybe you two were really stupid to be considering it at all. Either way, you didn't really care about the intricacies of it as much as you were annoyed over the fact that Satoru was taking away what you wanted to be a peaceful afternoon. Tolerance sure wasn't his strongest suit as expected of a rich brat who didn't know how it feels to be denied and done have the slightest understanding of the word no.

"You're gonna make me neighbors think I got into a tangle with loan sharks, Gojo," you said the moment you opened the door for him, unable to help it but ogle him. He was clad in gray sweats, a black shirt that fit him so damn well, his platinum hair mussed under a white, Balenciaga baseball cap.

He looked at you from under his cap, those gloriously blue eyes twinkling as he broke into a grin. "Well, you do owe me kisses, sweetheart."

Rolling your eyes, you cocked your head to the side, inviting him in, prompting his next comment: "I see how you're related to Sukuna when you move like that."

You chuckled. "I know how you think he was raised by brigands." You looked over your shoulder with a smirk. "You can opt out of our arrangement now."

Satoru caught up to you, blocking your way to the living room. He bent down to your height, booping you on the nose with his index finger. "Is that a roundabout way of saying you want out? You haven't even signed yet." He waved the file he was holding in front of you. "Ammended and reviewed as you've requested."

You took it, pushing past him and plopping down on the couch. You patted the space next to you as you opened the file, startled when he jumped right onto the spot, also making you bounce on the plush seat.

You momentarily glared at him but he just scooted closer, pointing at the sheaf of papers. "The things you wanted added are highlighted in yellow."

You quietly read the things he indicated, rifling through pages with your eyes. All the while, you could feel Satoru's blue orbs on you, his fingers toying with the tips of your hair. From your periphery, you could see him breaking into a soft smile, so different from his cocky, mischief-filled cheshire grins. Your planned glance turned into a sidelong stare as you whipped your head to actually look at him.

To your dismay, his expression was replaced by surprise, making that smile disappear as if it hadn't even been there in the first place.

"What?"

You shook your head, thinking you probably just imagined it. "Where do I sign?"

You made quick work of that after Satoru indicated where you were to sign, handing him the pen and also watching him do the same.

"And that's a done deal!" he declared, slapping the pen on the coffee table before twisting on his waist to look at you. "Congratulations, I'm exclusively yours."

"Thanks for saying my line for me." You shrugged, feeling the awkwardness of the situation now that your "giggle fits" about the whole contract, as Satoru had termed it, had died down. "So..."

"May I kiss you now?" he interrupted your thoughts, invading your space as he leaned forward, his eyes shifting slowly from your eyes and your lips.

You didn't fail to notice how he emphasized on asking for your permission this time instead of asking whether he was capable of it. "If you're always gonna choose your words like this..." You knocked his cap off his head with one hand while the other glided up from his shoulder to his nape. You pulled him closer, your lips just millimeters from his. "...instead of being such a tactless bastard all the time, I might actually enjoy this more."

He looked at you with hooded eyes. He wasn't one to be distracted from his goals. "So, may I, sweet cheeks?"

"Yes, you mmph –"

Satoru's plush lips were on yours in a split second, pressing gently yet the fact that he was holding back was evident in the way he gripped onto your waist as if he was trying to tether himself to you. He moved his lips against yours in languid motions as if he was testing the waters. You let him although you wondered at that knowing how hungry and all-consuming his kisses can be from experience.

You didn't dislike it, even the way he would pull away in the smallest fractions to nip at your lips before he would give them tiny kitten licks. It was enticing watching him take his time, making you reciprocate in the same small actions but mostly letting him have at it. Satoru's large hands moved from where he was keeping you steady on your arms up to the sides of your neck, his thumb brushing against your jawline.

Just then, he wrenched his eyes from intently paying attention to your lips to meet yours, blinking slowly and absently licking his lips. Satoru looked at you as if he couldn't believe you were in front of him, again breaking into that genuine smile.

"You're so pretty, sweet cheeks," he mumbled, looking absolutely out of it.

You were tempted to snort at his compliment but at the same time, you couldn't, unable to extricate yourself from the moment. This was a new side to him you're seeing for the first time. "That's one kiss today, Gojo."

At that, the spell seemed to have broken as he placed his forehead on your shoulder, chuckling. "You're keeping count?" He blindly fished for something in his pocket before taking your hand in his and pressing something onto your palm.

Before you could look and ask what it was, his lips were on yours again, less experimental this time. He licked at the seam of your mouth, pushing his tongue into it and seeking yours. You gasped when he finally found it, groaning when you responded in kind. Your ears were ringing, your head filled with nothing but the way he tasted in your mouth and the way he was possessively holding you against his taut form while his fingers drew circles on the small of your back.

And just as you were getting used to him and what he was doing to you, he pulled away, your lips parting with a wet sound. You swallowed hard, startled by the sudden loss of contact, and quite frankly, pissed off as well.

He wrapped your fingers on the thing he put in your hand, realizing it was some sort of card. As if he read your mind, he said, "Your key to my private place in the city. I'll text you the address."

With one last peck to your lips which were slightly parted from being flustered, he stood up, putting on his cap. And then he turned to look at you. "Sorry, sweetheart. I have class in half an hour with Yaga." He grinned. "Don't look so disappointed now. I'll make it up to you tomorrow."

You scoffed, also standing up as you regained composure. "Who says I am?" You shook your head, catching sight of the contract on the table. "Take those with you. I don't need Yuki or Iori finding those here."

Satoru laughed, taking your hand and twining his fingers with yours before raising it to his lips and winking at you. "See you tomorrow."

~*~

TAGS LIST: @arxliana @neeneee @charlie-xo @aelynaneedsalottathing @arizzu @cloudxp

PHOTO/IMAGE/GIF/FANART CREDITS TO THE RESPECTIVE OWNERS.

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scarletqueenx · 1 month

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chapter four - the hand of the dead

Dean Winchester x female oc

Summary: After experiencing an alternative life through the spell of a Djinn, Dean realizes that he is missing something in his life. He and Freya Holloway had been dating for a few months before his father disappeared and his journey with Sam began. Now, having made a deal to save his brother's life and with only a year to live, Dean considers reconnecting with the only girl he's ever had feelings for.

Author’s Note: this is my first time writing in tumblr. Also english is not my first lenguage.

series masterlist

The interior of the Impala was in complete silence as Freya read one of her brother's comics and Dean drove. As for Sam, he seemed lost in his own thoughts, glancing out the window from time to time.

"So, I've been waiting since Maple Springs." Dean broke the silence, gaining both of their attention. His eyes traveled to his brother, who was riding in the passenger seat. "You got something to tell me?"

Sam frowned in confusion. His eyes connecting with his brother's before he looked to Freya for answers. The girl shrugged, just as lost as he was.

"It's not your birthday." Sam said, looking back at his brother.

"No."

"Happy Purim?" He laughed, just as confuse as before. "Dude, I don't know. I have no idea what you're talking about."

"There's a bullet missing from the Colt." Freya tensed at Dean's response, shifting nervously in her seat. "You want to tell me how that happened? I know it wasn't me. So unless you were shooting at some incredibly evil cans..."

"Dean..."

"You went after her, didn't you? The Crossroads Demon. After I told you not to."

"No. I..." Sam tried to speak back, but his brother continued to cut him off.

"You could have gotten yourself killed!"

"I didn't go after her. I don't know what you're talking about."

"Oh, you don't know what I'm talking about?" Dean looked at him in disbelief.

"No, I don't. I didn't use that bullet." Sam assured. Looking into his eyes, Dean knew then that his brother was being completely honest.

"Well, someone did." Dean sighed, turning his eyes back to the road.

"Maybe you counted them wrong."

"No, I..." Dean frowns, his eyes meeting Freya's figure through the rearview mirror. "Freya, anything you want to share with the group?"

"Sure. I shot that bitch." Freya was in no mood to deny the obvious. If none of them had used the Colt, it was clear that the missing bullet had been used by her, so she admitted it. Sam turned in his seat to look at her in shock, as Dean tightened his grip on the steering wheel.

"Why would you do that?"

"She was a smartass." Freya shrugged.

"I told you not to do anything that stupid."

"Yes, and I didn't listen. Can we stop saying the obvious? I wasn't going to sit and do nothing."

Dean sighed, sharing a look with his brother.

"So, what? Does that mean I'm out of my deal?" He asked, looking back at her.

"Don't you think I might have mentioned that little fact, Dean?" Freya raised her eyebrows, crossing her arms. "No. Someone else holds the contract."

"Who?" Sam asked.

"She wouldn't say."

"Well, we should find out who." Dean suggested. "Of course, our best lead would be the Crossroads Demon. Oh, wait a minute..."

"Okay. That's not funny." Freya cut him off.

"No, it's not! It was a stupid freaking risk, and you shouldn't have done it."

"I shouldn't have done it?" Freya leaned forward, looking at him in disbelief. "And what am I supposed to do, Dean? Stay in the back seat in sweet quiet silence? Follow you around like a lot puppy for as long as you have left and then watch you die? If that's what think I'm going to do then you clearly don't know me." She stated. "And in case you haven't noticed, I could have stolen your car and the Colt and driven off, but I didn't. Because I care about you. So I'm sure as hell not gonna apologize for trying to save your life."

After that the car fell silent again. Sam fought back the urge to smile, glad that Freya had wanted to help his brother. Dean was still in shock at the girl's words and Freya was still going over her conversation with the crossroads demon, trying to understand what she had said about her brother.

─── ❖ ── ✦ ── ❖ ───

A new city, a new case. This time in Massachusetts. Where a woman had drowned in her shower. Her aunt, an elegant and very wealthy 70-year-old woman named Gertrude Case, Gert for short, was now looking at a photo of her niece with sadness in her eyes.

"But I don't understand." She said after they introduced themselves as detectives. "I already went over all this with the other detectives."

"Right, yes. But, see, we're with the Sheriff's Department, not the police department. Different departments." Dean explained.

Still a bit hesitant, the woman watched each of them carefully. Noticing her eyes on her, Freya smiled kindly at her, receiving an equal smile in response.

"So, Mrs. Case..." Sam started.

"Please." The woman interrupted him, looking at him as if it was just the two of them in the room. "Ms. Case."

"Okay. Um, Ms. Case, um... you were the one who found your niece, correct?"

"I came home, she was in the shower." She answered with a nod.

"Drowned?" Freya asked.

"So the coroner says. Now, you tell me, how can someone drown in the shower?" The woman asked with clear curiosity and confusion. Her hand now resting in Sam's arm, who stiffened but stayed still.

Neither of them knew how to answer that, so Sam went ahead to ask her another question. "How would you describe Sheila's behavior in the days before her death? I mean, did she seem frightened? Maybe she said something out of the ordinary, or...?"

"Wait a minute. You're working with Alex, aren't you?" She cut him off as she took her hand off him. Freya and Dean shared a quick look before he decided to answered.

"Yep." He nodded with a nervous laugh. "Absolutely. That's... Alex and us, we're like this." He crossed his fingers to show the bond the three of them had with that Alex.

"Why didn't you say so? Alex has been such a comfort. But I'm sorry. I thought the case was solved." She said sitting down in a chair.

"Uh... Well, no. No, not yet." Sam answered.

"I see."

"So, anyways, we were talking about your niece." Freya spoke, gaining her attention and bringing her back to the main topic.

"Well, yes. Sheila mentioned something quite strange before she died. She said she saw a boat."

"A boat?"

"Yes. One minute it was there, then it was gone. It just disappeared right before her eyes. You think it could be a... ghost ship? Alex thinks it could be a ghost ship." Gert explained, looking only at Sam as she spoke, which caused Daan and Freya to share an amused look.

"Well, um... Could be." Sam gulped nervously.

"Well. You let me know if there's anything else I can do for you." She smiled as she traced a finger slowly along Sam's hand, who was clearly uncomfortable with it. Dean smirked as Freya tried to hide a chuckle. "Anything at all."

"Thank you. We will come back if necessary." Freya spoke, quickly pulling herself together. Sam thanked her for the interruption in a silent glare while Dean grew a little disappointed by it, still enjoying the woman's not-so-subtle flirting with his little brother.

Gert smiled kindly, waving them goodbye with her eyes still fixed on Sam.

"What a crazy old broad." Dean commented as they walked along the docks.

"Why? Because she believes in ghosts?"

Freya chuckled at Sam's answered.

"Look at you." She smiled. "Sticking up for your girlfriend. You cougar hound."

"Bite me." He rolled his eyes.

"Not if she bites you first." Dean said, enjoying the situation as much as Freya.

"So, who's this Alex? We got another player in town?" Freya then asked, noticing that Sam was starting to get annoyed by their teasing.

"Maybe, maybe not. Doesn't change our job." Sam stated.

"And what looked like a ghost ship, right?" Dean asked.

"Yeah. It's not the first one sighted around here, either."

"Really?" Freya frowned.

"Yeah. Every 37 years, like clockwork, reports of a vanishing three-mast clipper ship out in the bay. And every 37 years, a rash of weirdo, dry-land drownings."

"So, whatever's happening is just getting started." She assumed.

"Yeah."

"What's the lore?" Dean questioned.

"Well, there are apparitions of old wrecks sighted all over the world. The S.S. Violet, the Griffin, the Flying Dutchman– almost all of them are death omens. Your father has a chapter on this type of boats in one of his books." Sam notes, settling his gaze on the girl.

"My father has chapters for everything." She assured with a sigh.

"So, what happens?" Dean asked. "You see the ship and then a few hours later, you pucker up and kiss your ass goodbye?"

"Pretty much."

"What's the next step?"

"I gotta I.D. the boat."

"That shouldn't be too hard. I mean, how many three-mast clipper ships have wrecked off the coast?"

"I checked that too, actually. Over one hundred and fifty."

"Wait, really?" Freya stopped her tracks, looking at Sam in disbelief.

"Yeah." Sam nodded.

"Crap." She muttered, following in both brothers' footsteps to the place where Dean had parked the car. However, there was no sign of Baby there.

"This is where we parked the car, right?" Dean asked with a slight tone of panic in his voice.

"I thought so." Freya answered, just as confused as him.

"Okay, then, where's my car?" He asked, looking at the empty spot.

"Did you feed the meter?" Sam asked.

"Yes, I fed the meter. Sam, where's my car? Somebody stole my car!" Dean exclaimed in panic before he started breathing heavily.

"Hey, dude, relax. Okay? Calm down." Freya tried to comfort him, placing a hand on his shoulder with a concerned look on her face as Dean started to hyperventilate.

"I am calmed down! Somebody stole my ca-" He tried to say as he bent over to clutch his knees.

"The '67 Impala? Was that yours?" A woman's voice spoke behind them.

Freya was the first to turn around, encountering a woman not much older than herself, brown-haired and, although she had trouble admitting it, really attractive.

"Bela." Sam said at her side, snapping her out of her thoughts.

"I'm sorry. I had that car towed." She smirked.

"You what?!" Dean yelled, causing Freya to jolt. Bela's eyes then landed on her, as if she hadn't noticed her presence until that moment.

"Well, it was in a tow-away zone."

"No, it wasn't!"

"It was when I finished with it." She answered with a smirk, turning towards Freya. "Now, I do not have the pleasure. I'm Bela."

That's when it all came together for Freya. She didn't know Bela in person, but she did remember her father complaining that a woman by that name had stolen one of his prized formerly enchanted amulets that he kept on exhibit at the university where he worked.

"Bela Talbot." Freya muttered but she was still able to hear her.

"You know me. Great." She smiled.

"Yeah. You owe my dad an enchanted necklace."

"Necklace? Oh, yeah. You're Henry and Laurel Holloway's daughter, right? I've heard a lot about your family. That necklace you're talking about gave me a few thousand dollars' worth. Tell your father thanks."

"What the hell are you even doing here?" Dean interrupted their conversation, gaining back Bela's attention.

"A little yachting." She answered, looking back at him.

"You're Alex. You're working with that old lady." Sam said, fitting all the pieces together.

"Gert's a dear old friend."

"Yeah, right. What's your angle?" Dean asked.

"There's no angle. There's a lot of lovely old women like Gert up and down the eastern seaboard. I sell them charms, perform séances so they can commune with their dead cats."

"And let me guess, it's all a con, none of it's real." Dean rolled his eyes.

"The comfort I provide them is very real." Bela assured.

"How do you sleep at night?" Freya squinted her eyes, staring at her in disbelief.

"On silk sheets, rolling naked in money." She answered. Fixing her eyes on Dean's expression, who was clearly imagining what Bela had just described, Freya couldn't help but roll her eyes and cross her arms. "Really, Sam. I'd expect the attitude from him, but you?"

"You shot me!" He exclaimed.

"I barely grazed you."

"I would do more then just barely graze you if I shot you right here and now." Freya stated, clearly annoyed with the British-accented woman. Bela smiled with amusement.

"Cute. But a bit of a drama queen, yeah?" She asked, looking at Dean.

"You do know what's going on around here. This ghost-ship thing, it is real." He said.

"I'm aware. Thanks for telling Gert the case wasn't solved, by the way."

"It isn't."

"She didn't know that. Now the old bag's stopped payment and she's demanding some real answers. Look... just stay out of my way before you cause any more trouble. I'd get to that car if I were you... before they find the arsenal in the trunk. Ciao." Bela smiles, turning and walking away from them.

"Can I shoot her?" Dean and Freya both asked at the same time.

"Not in public." Sam sighed.

─── ❖ ── ✦ ── ❖ ───

Dean and Freya's relationship had remained tense ever since she admitted about the crossroads demon. Sam could barely stand their glances across the room as they did research. The girl had even asked for a room to herself instead of sharing it with them. Though that hadn't just been because of Dean's presence. Freya didn't want either of the guys to have to sleep on an uncomfortable couch to give her one of the beds, and she didn't want to have to sleep on it either.

The next day, after recovering the car, the three headed to the home of a new victim, where his brother had found him drowned in one of the house bathroom. There they met Bela again, who was pretending to be a reporter in order to ask the man some questions about the incident.

"I am so sorry for your loss, Mr. Warren. Now, if you could just tell me one more time about the ship your brother saw."

"Ma'am, I think this man's been through quite enough. You should go." Dean interrupted her as they flashed their police badges.

"But I just have a few more questions." She insisted, keeping a smile for the victim's brother, but giving them an annoyed look.

"No, you don't." Freya stated firmly.

With a forced smile and throwing daggers at them with her eyes, Bela took a step back. "Thank you for your time." She said goodbye to the victim's brother before leaving them alone.

"Sorry you had to deal with that." Dean apologized to the man, before raising his voice, looking at Bela with annoyance. "They're like roaches."

"So, we heard you say your brother saw a ship." Freya looked at Mr. Warren.

"Yeah, that's right." He nodded, looking back at her.

"Did he tell you what it looked like?" Dean asked.

"It was, uh... like the old Yankee clippers. A smuggling vessel. The rakish topsail, a barkentine rigging. Angel figurehead on the bow."

"That's a lot of detail for a ship your brother saw." Sam pointed out with confusion.

"My brother and I were night diving. I saw the ship, too." Mr. Warren explained, making them share a concerned look. But as Freya did so, something in the distance caught her attention. Bela was talking to the real policemen, pointing to the three of them in the process. Concerned, Freya smacks Dean's arm to get his attention.

"All right. Well, we'll be in touch." Dean spoke then, bidding a quick goodbye to Mr. Warren.

"Thank you." Freya smiled quickly at him, grabbing Sam's arm in the process, who followed her footsteps in confusion, as he hadn't seen Bela.

Getting back to the car, Freya, Dean and Sam started to prepared the guns with rock salt bullets in order for them to spend the day, and as much time as necessary, protecting Mr. Warren now that they knew he had also seen the ghost ship.

"I see you got your car back." Bela spoke from behind them.

"You really want to come near me when I got a loaded gun in my hands?" Dean looked back at her.

"Now, now. Mind your blood pressure." She sighed, rolling her eyes. "Why are you even still here? You have enough to I.D. the boat."

"That guy back there saw the ship." Freya noted.

"Yeah? And?" Bela frowned.

"And, he's going to die, so we have to save him." Sam answered, turning to face her.

"How sweet." She smiled at them.

"You think this is funny?" Freya looked at her with disbelief.

"He's cannon fodder. He can't be saved in time, and you know it."

"Yeah, well, see, we have souls, so... we're gonna try." Dean said, closing the trunk and heading for the driver's door.

"Yeah, well, I'm actually going to find the ship and put an end to this. But you three have fun."

Ignoring her and ready to get into the car, Freya sighed as she saw Sam and Dean stop in their tracks.

"Hey, Bela, how'd you get like this, huh?" Dean asked, approaching her. "What, did Daddy not give you enough hugs or something?"

"I don't know. Your daddy give you enough?" She shoot back, but it was clear to Freya that Dean's comment had affected her. Though so had her response to him. "Don't you dare look down your nose at me. You're not better than I am."

"We help people."

"Come on." She scoffed. "You two do this out of vengeance and obsession. You're a stone's throw from being a serial killer. Whereas I, on the other hand, I get paid to do a job and I do it. So, you tell me, which is healthier?"

"Bela, why don't you just leave? We've got work to do." Freya asked her kindly.

The woman looked towards her, grateful to see that Freya didn't seem to judge her in the same way the Winchester brothers did. Yet Bela had to keep up her facade.

"Yeah. You're 0 for 2. Bang-up job so far." She replied before she left.

Freya let a sigh escape her lips as she got in the car without giving Bela's words much thought. Still, the comment about her parents brought a small knot to her chest. She didn't know much about Dean's relationship with John Winchester, and she knew even less about Sam's, but she knew the man wasn't particularly loving. Bela was a mystery and Freya had only just met her, but she knew from the look on her face that her relationship with her own father must not have been very good either. The Holloway girl couldn't help but feel bad about it, especially since she had always had a good relationship with hers. And the lack of hugs on his part had never been a problem.

The Winchester brothers quickly got into the car, and as night fell Freya started to feel quite useless inside the vehicle guarding Mr. Warren's house.

"Anything good?" Dean asked his brother later that night. Sam was sitting next to him, reading some papers for research.

"No, not really. I mean, both brothers are Duke University grads. No criminal record. I mean, a few speeding tickets. They inherited their father's real estate fortune six years ago." Sam answered.

"How much?" Freya asked with interest.

"112 million."

Dean whistled in amazement.

"Nice life."

"Yeah. I mean, nice, clean, aboveboard. So why did they see the ship? Why Sheila, too? What do they all have in common?" Sam turned to look at them in confusion.

"Maybe nothing." Freya shrugged.

"No. There's always something." He assured her.

As they talked neither of them noticed how Mr. Warren had spotted them from inside his house and was now walking toward them.

"Hey, you!" He exclaimed, gaining their attention.

"I think we've been made." Dean muttered, getting out of the car as the man approached them. Sam and Freya mimicked his action.

"What are you guys doing?! You watching me?" Mr. Warren looked at them with confusion

"Sir, calm down. Please." Sam tried.

"You guys aren't cops! Not dressed like that. Not in that crappy car."

"Whoa, hey." Dean exclaimed, offended. "No need to get nasty."

"We are cops, okay?" Freya spoke, stepping in front of Mr. Warren. "We're undercover. We're here because we think you're in danger."

"From who?!" He asked, looking back at her.

"If you just settle down, we'll talk about it." Sam said at her side.

"Look, you guys just stay away from me!" The man said, running away before Freya could say anything to stop him. He ran to his own car and starts to drive it toward the gate.

"Wait!" Sam exclaimed.

"Hey, you moron! We're trying to help you!" Dean yelled at him in frustration. As Mr. Warren's car approached the gate, it suddenly shuddered, coughed, and died. "That can't be good."

"No. Get the salt gun." Sam exclaimed at Dean and Freya as he tried to open the man's car door. They quickly followed his instructions, running back to the Impala to pull out the guns loaded with rock salt bullets.

As they headed back to Sam's side, Freya caught a glimpse of a spirit appearing in Mr. Warren's rear seat. It was dressed in old seaman's clothes and a navy coat. His long hair dripping into his eyes, dripping wet like he had just come out of the water.

Freya was quick to raise her gun pointing it at him and yelling at Sam to duck before she pulled the trigger. But the spirit disappeared before the bullet could hit him. Frustrated by her missed shot, Freya watched as Sam used the fact that the bullet had shattered the car window to open the car from the inside so he could reach Mr. Warren.

He placed his fingers on his neck, looking for a pulse, but it was too late, the man was already dead.

After Bela had talked to the cops earlier that morning, pointing them out as fake cops, Dean, Freya and Sam were forced to leave the motel so they wouldn't draw too much attention on them. So now they were staying in an abandoned house the girl had found. The car ride was longer than usual and that night it seemed to be even longer after what had happened with Peter Warren.

"Do you wanna say it or should I?" Dean broke the silence, looking at his brother.

"What?" Sam looked at him in confusion as Freya lay back in the back seats, trying not to be too hard on herself for her missed shot.

Dean sighed before answering. "You can't save everybody, Sam."

"Yeah, right, so–so what, you feel better now or what?" Sam looked at him with confusion and frustration.

"No, not really."

"Me neither."

"You gotta understa-" Dean stated but Freya cut him off.

"Could you both shut up?" She complained, rising back up and leaning against the back of their seats.

"You're really cranky today. Are you on those days of the month or something?" He frowned, looking at her through the rearview mirror.

"Wow, Dean, that's the most asshole comment you've ever said in your life." She assured, looking at him shocked.

"Yeah, I regretted it as soon as I said it. Sorry." He was quick to answer.

"I know you're mad at me about the demon thing, but you don't have to..."

"I said I'm sorry." He insisted in a snort.

Freya let out a sigh, leaning back in her seat.

"We can't save everyone, it's true. But tonight was especially hard. At least for me." She admitted.

"Yeah, I know." Sam said as he looked out the window. "It's just lately, I feel like I can't save anybody."

─── ❖ ── ✦ ── ❖ ───

In the abandoned house where they were staying, Freya looked at her mother's necklace without knowing what to do with it. Her family wasn't particularly religious enough to wear a crucifix pendant around their neck, but she knew that particular piece of jewelry was special to her mother. It had belonged to generations of the women in her family, but every time she looked at it she could only remember her mother's corpse covered in blood.

Sam was reading a newspaper not paying much attention to her, while Dean couldn't help but give her quick glances. However, two knocks on the door quickly snapped him out of his daydreaming. Freya put her pendant away quickly and the three of them became alert, reaching for their guns.

Dean approached the door stealthily, peering through the peephole to see who it was. Bela was watching him from the other side, waiting for him to open. Letting out a sigh and sharing a look with Freya and Sam, Dean finally opened the door to let her in.

"Dear... God." The woman murmured, causing Sam to let out a sigh. "Are you actually squatting? Charming."

"There wasn't much we could do after you ratted us out." Freya said, rising to her feet. Bela looked at her, giving her a fake smile.

"So how'd things go last night with Peter?" She asked. They remained silent, which was answer enough for her. "That well, huh?"

"If you say 'I told you so', I swear to God I'll start swinging." Dean growled.

"Look, I think the four of us should have a heart-to-heart."

"That's assuming that you have a heart." Freya commented, giving her a fake smile in return.

"I like you." Bela smiled at her, this time with sincerity. "I'm sorry about what I said before, okay? I come bearing gifts."

"Such as?" Sam frowned.

"I've ID'd the ship." She answered, starting to unzip a portfolio file. "It's the Espírito Santo, a merchant sailing vessel, quite a colorful history. In 1859 a sailor was accused of treason. He was tried aboard ship in a kangaroo court and hanged. He was 37."

"Which would explain the 37 year cycle." Sam pointed out, sharing a look with his brother. Bela nodded.

"Aren't you a sharp tack?" She looked at him with amusement. "There's a photo of him somewhere..." She added, flipping through the file. "...here.

"Isn't that the customer we saw last night?" Dean took the photo in his hands, showing it to Freya and his brother.

"You saw him?" Bela looked at them with surprise.

"Yeah, that's him, except he was missing a hand." Freya said.

"His right hand?"

"How'd you know?"

"The sailor's body was cremated, but not before they cut off his hand to make a hand of glory." She explained.

"A hand of glory? I think I got one of those at the end of my Thai massage last week." Dean laughed making Freya roll her eyes.

"Dean, the right hand of a hanged man is a serious occult object. It's very powerful." Sam looked at his brother in annoyance.

"So they say." Bela sighed.

"And officially counts as remains." Dean noted.

"But still, none of this explains why the ghost is choosing these victims." Sam commented, still confused by that.

"I'll tell you why. Who cares?" Bela responded. "Find the hand, burn it, and stop the bloody thing."

"I don't get it. Why are you telling us all of this?" Dean asked her.

"Because I know exactly where the hand is."

"Where?"

"At the Sea Pines Museum. It's a macabre bit of maritime history." She answered. "But I need help."

Freya frowned at her answer, looking at her with a mixture of surprise and confusion.

"What kind of help?"

Bela looked back at her, giving them nothing but a smile in response before explaining her plan. A plan that Sam and Freya were not particularly happy with. Apparently a small party was being held at the Sea Pines Museum that evening. But they could only get in with an invitation. Gert was happy to give Bela invitations for herself and her friends, on the condition that Sam was her date and either she or Freya was her younger nephew's date. Which, of course, left the other girl being Dean's date.

Although Freya's family was not as wealthy as the people invited to that party, she had always wanted to attend one. Dressing up in a fancy dress, doing her hair and makeup was something she had always enjoyed. Princesses had never been her thing as a child, but she was still a girl. What she particularly disliked about the plan was that Bela had proclaimed herself Dean's date. Which left Freya as Gert's nephew's date.

Though her discomfort quickly changed when she saw that the boy was barely two years older than her, nice and quite attractive. Although no boy came close to Dean's attractiveness. But Freya preferred to put those thoughts aside, knowing that their current relationship wasn't going to grow into what it had once been, or anything like it. They were hunting partners and friends, nothing more. Still, she couldn't help but feel a knot of jealousy rise in her chest as she saw him walking into the party with Bela on his arm.

"All good?" Shawn, Gert's youngest nephew and Sheila's brother, snapped Freya out of her thoughts, bringing her back to reality.

"Yeah. Yeah. Everything's fine." She was quick to answered, giving him a light smile. "Um... would you excuse me for a moment? I want to say hello to someone."

"Sure." He nodded. "I'll get us some drinks."

"Yeah, that'd be nice. Champagne will do."

"Good choice." Shawn smiled before leaning close to her to whisper in her ear. "The wine is not very good, let alone the punch."

Freya let a slight chuckle escape her lips. A chuckle that despite being far away from her and the hubbub of the party, Dean was able to hear.

"Exactly how long do you expect me to entertain my date?" Sam asked as he approached Dean and Bela.

"As long as it takes." Bela answered him making Sam sigh in frustration.

"Look, there's security all over this place, all right. This is an uncrashable party without Gert's invitation, so..." Dean said, gaining his brother's attention.

"We can crash anything, Dean." Sam replied.

"Yeah, I know, but this is easier and it's a lot more entertaining."

"You know there are limits to what I'll do, right?"

"Ah, he's playing hard to get, that's cute." Dean teases him. "Come on. I want all the details in the morning!"

Sam smiled tightly as he walked away from them. His gaze meeting Freya's on the way back to his date.

"Oh, look who decided to honor us with her presence and attention." Dean smiled when Freya approached Bela and him. "You seemed to be having a great time with your date."

"The only ones having a good time at this party are you two and Sam's date." Freya assured him.

"Come on, sweetheart, it can't be that bad." He said making Freya roll her eyes.

"Just hurry up, will you?" She asked them. "Or I'll drink all the champagne I need to forget all about Gert's hands on Sam and you'll have to carry me out of here."

Dean raised his eyebrows at her response, giving a quick glance at his brother and the older woman with him.

"You look great, by the way." Freya spoke, looking at the clothes he and Bella were wearing. The woman wore a black dress that highlighted her curves and a very expensive necklace around her neck. While Dean looked especially handsome in a tuxedo.

Although Freya wasn't badly dressed either. She was wearing a red dress she had bought in a hurry earlier that afternoon and around her neck was her mother's crucifix necklace.

"Don't worry, Holloway, I'll get him back to you in one piece." Bela said before Dean could acknowledge and return his ex girlfriend's compliment. "And just for you I won't try to take his clothes off."

After rolling her eyes at her answer, Freya gave Dean another quick glance, enjoying how handsome he looked before walking away from them.

"Don't try the appetizers." Shawn commented when Freya returned to his side.

"Noted." She chuckled at the look of disgust on his face. "Sorry about your sister, by the way."

"Thanks. I don't know how such a thing could happen to her. She survived a car accident, I never thought I'd lose her. You know?" He said, handing her a glass of champagne.

"Yeah, I get it." Freya nodded taking a quick sip.

"You have siblings?"

"Uh-huh. Two. A little brother and an older one." Freya could have lied to him and just talked about Peter, but it wasn't worth it.

"Is he one of them?" Shawn asked, pointing to Sam.

"Oh, no. Sam... Sam's a friend." Freya answered. "My little brother lives with my father and the older one... It's complicated."

"Like all families."

"I guess." She shrugged.

"I didn't want to ask, but... now we're talking about family. Are you religious?" He asked, pointing to the necklace around her neck.

"Oh. Not particularly. It was my mother's." She explained. "Although she always said there were angels looking over me."

"That's sweet."

"Yeah, and very unreal. But... now I think she's the angel that's watching over me."

"That's a nice thought. Maybe my sister is mine."

"Yeah, I'm sure she is." Freya answered, giving him a light smile.

"I have a feeling that after tonight we won't see each other again, so I'm telling you now. Thank you. You've made tonight a lot more enjoyable than I thought it would be." Shawn admitted.

"I feel the same way."

The rest of the evening was pretty peaceful for Freya. Dean and Bela were in charge of finding the hand of glory so she just had to lay low while spending time with Shawn. They shared a dance, had a couple of glasses of champagne and when Bela and Dean returned to the main party room, Shawn left to escort his aunt Gert home with Bela's help.

He and Freya shared a friendly farewell before she joined the Winchester brothers.

"You got it, right?" Sam asked as the three of them got into the Impala. "Tell me I didn't get groped all night by Mrs. Havisham for nothing."

"I got it... Mrs. Who?" Dean frowned.

"Never mind. Just let me see it."

Letting out a sigh Dean pulled something out of his pocket and started to unwrapping it. Freya settled into the back seats, leaning over to place her head between the two brothers, expectant to see the hand of glory.

"What?" Freya asked as she noticed Dean's body tense up. Unwrapping it completely, Dean shows them a ship in a bottle. "I'm gonna kill her."

"Yeah. You and me both." Dean grunted.

─── ❖ ── ✦ ── ❖ ───

They had no idea what to do next. Freya, Dean and Sam had run out of ideas, especially now that Bela had the hand of glory and they didn't know what she would do with it. They also didn't have a way to contact her and the woman was very sneaky.

Back in the house, Freya was glad to get rid of the heels on her feet, running upstairs to change clothes as quickly as possible. She liked to dress up, but there was nothing like her comfortable everyday clothes. Returning to the living room she found Sam and Dean had also changed clothes. The first one was going over all the information on the case, while Dean was examining the ship-in-a-bottle with a frown on his face.

"You know what, you're right. I'm not gonna kill her. I think slow torture's the way to go." Dean said. Freya narrowed her eyes at his words, sitting down on the couch next to Sam.

"Dean, look, you gotta relax." Sam said, although he was just as pissed by the situation.

"Relax! Oh yeah, yeah, I'll relax. I can't believe she got another one over on us!"

"You." Freya corrected, looking up at him.

"What?" Dean frowned, looking back at her.

"I mean, she got one over on you... not us."

"Thank you, Freya. Very helpful." He grunted, rolling his eyes. Freya let out a sigh, bending down to put on comfortable shoes. Suddenly, there was a rapid knocking at the door.

"Hello? Could you open up?" Bela's voice came through from the other side. Dean opened the door. "Just let me explain." She asked when she saw the pissed looks on the three hunters' faces.

"Oh, don't worry, I'll explain it for you." Freya said, rising to her feet. "You played us, you grabbed the hand of glory and took it to the best buyer for just a few bucks. I don't know about them two, but I tried to have some empathy for you, I really did. I thought, there must be some reason why she's so cold, maybe this time she wants to do something good. But all you care about is the money, isn't it? My father was right all along."

Despite what she had admitted, Freya knew many things about Bela Talbot. At least about her work. Her father had tried to track her down, to find that necklace she had taken from him, but all he could discover was how she manipulated people to get more and more objects for her to sell.

"Yes, you are right. Your father is right. But this time it's different." Bela answered, walking into the house as Dean stepped aside.

"Oh, really? And how's that?" Freya crossed her arms and raised her eyebrows with interest.

"I sold it. I had a buyer lined up as soon as I knew it existed." She admitted, earning a furious look from Dean, who began walking around her and making shooting motions with his fingers.

"So the whole reason for us going to the charity ball was...?"

"I needed a cover. You were convenient."

"Look, you sold it to a buyer. Just go buy it back." Sam suggested with a shrug.

"It's halfway across the ocean. I can't get it back in time." Bela sighed.

"In time for what?" Dean and Freya asked at the same time, looking at her. Bela kept silent, looking down.

"What's going on with you, Bela?" Sam looked at her with confusion. "You look like you've seen a ghost."

"I saw the ship." She finally said, looking back at Freya. The girl gulped as she read the frightened look in her eyes. A look she never thought she would see in her.

"You what? Wow, you know, I–I knew you were an immoral thieving con artist bitch, but just when I thought my opinion of you couldn't get any lower—"

"What are you talking about?" Bela cut Dean off, turning to face him.

"We figured out the spirit's motive." Sam answered, showing her a photograph. "This is the captain of our ship. The one who hung our ghost boy."

"So?" Bela looked at them with confusion.

"So they were brothers. Very Cain and Abel. So now our spirit, he's going after a very specific kind of target – people who've spilled their own family's blood." He explained and Bela looked shocked.

This information was not only new to her but also to Freya, as Sam and Dean had discussed it while she was changing clothes upstairs. Her heart skipping a beat at the possibility that if the night her mother had died had gone differently, she might have seen the ship too. And if her older brother was there, he surely would have.

"See, first there was Sheila who killed her cousin in the car accident, and the Warren brothers, who murdered their father for the inheritance. And now you."

"Oh my God." Bela whispered.

"So who was it, Bela? Hmm? Who'd you kill? Was it Daddy? Your little sis, maybe?" Dean asked her.

"It's none of your business." She answered harshly.

"No? Right. Well, have a nice life – you know, whatever's left of it." Dean said, slapping her on the back. "Come on, guys, let's go."

Sam hesitated for a moment as he watched his brother grab his jacket and walk toward the door. But Freya remained static, her gaze still on Bela.

"You can't just leave me here." Bela said, looking at Freya with fear. The Holloway girl sighed, her eyes drifting to Sam and Dean, who were standing in the doorway ready to leave.

"Watch us." Dean answered, as he gave Freya a quick look, encouraging her to go with them.

Noticing his green eyes on her, Freya shook her head slightly. "I'm staying. I'll help her."

"No. No way. You're coming with us." He stated, walking toward her. Wrapping his hand around her wrist to guide her to the door. "She doesn't need the help of a couple of serial killers, right, Bela?

"Okay, that was a bit harsh, I admit it, but it doesn't warrant a death sentence." Bela said, looking back at him.

"That's not why you're gonna die. What'd you do, Bela?" Sam asked her.

"You wouldn't understand. No one did."

"I don't need to understand it. Whatever you did, whatever you stole, whoever you conned, deep down I don't think you deserve to die." Freya stated, releasing herself from Dean's grip and approaching Bela once again.

The woman looked at her puzzled. Since she had met her a few hours before, Bela had noticed that the Holloway girl was different from the Winchester brothers, but she did not expect that after betraying them she would want to help her.

"Why?" Bela asked.

"Because more people might see the ship after you. And because even if you don't want to tell us what happened, there's still a chance it was an accident, like Sheila's, and it would be unfair."

Noticing Freya's gaze on him, Dean let out a sigh.

"You do realize you just sold the one thing that could save your life." Dean said, looking back at Bela.

"I'm aware." She sighed.

"Wel... maybe not the only thing." Freya said.

Thanks to her father's obsession with studying all things supernatural and her mother's knowledge on hunting, Freya knew some unconventional things. This particular one was one of them. The idea was to summon the ghost that was drowning all who saw the ship and his brother, the one who had killed him. To do that they had to head to the cemetery, so, despite Dean's complaints, that was precisely what they did.

The full moon was illuminating the sky as Freya emptied a small backpack to get everything she needed to prepare the ritual. Dean, Sam and Bela watched her as she set up a ritual circle with five candles, a pentagram, a bowl into which she poured a jar of red liquid. And another jar is on the opposite side of the circle, with what appeared to be herbs in it.

"This looks like some stupid witchcraft bullshit." Dean commented. "Wait. You're not a witch, are you?"

Freya looked at him with exasperation. "No, Dean, I'm not a witch. Not that I know of anyway." She sighed.

"Do you really think this is going to work?" Bela approached them, huddling in her jacket.

"Almost definitely not." Dean answered her, leaning on a tombstone, with a gun across his shoulder.

"Is this the book?" Sam arrived at their side, holding out a small book to Freya.

"Yes, that's it. Thanks, Sammy." Freya smiled at him, taking the book in her hands. "Quick explanation, this is something my mother once tried. It worked for her, fingers crossed this will be like that time."

"Fingers crossed. Great, I'm saved." Bela mutters sarcastically making Dean chuckle.

Suddenly the wind began to pick up, the thunder crashed and the rain started to pour. "Okay, sweetheart, I think it's time you start reading." Dean said, knowing that was not a good sign.

Freya nodded, opening the book to the correct page. "Aziel, Castiel, Lamisniel, Rabam. Ehrley, et balam, ego vos conuro, per deum verum, per deum vivum cuivos cuiaves eos supermontes et per eum, qui adam, et avum formovit. Et per eum."

Sam loaded his gun as he stood by her side and she continued to read in Latin. Bela and Dean took a few steps back from them, their eyes searching for the ghost.

"Stay close!" Dean shouted to Bela.

"Behind you!" Bela exclaimed when her eyes met the ghost. Dean turned around in a quick move, raising his gun at him. But before he could do anything the ghost approached and throw him through the air. The phantom reached out to Bela and placed his hand on her face making her cough up water. Sam then ran to her. Falling to her knees, Bela looked at Sam and Dean with fear.

"Freya, read faster!" Dean exclaimed, looking back at her. Soaked wet, Freya followed his order as the rain died down. Bela kept coughing, but the water in her lungs started to diminish.

Suddenly, a creaking sound was heard. The spirit's head slowly turned toward the source of the noise, finding his own brother.

"You... hanged me!" The sailor's ghost exclaimed.

"I'm sorry." His brother said.

"Your own brother."

"I'm so sorry!" He insisted. The sailor charged his brother's ghost and as soon as they touched, they both dissolved into screams and a splash of water. Just then Bela stopped coughing up water completely, while Freya took a deep breath of air. The ritual had left her exhausted. Who knows, maybe Dean was right and it was some kind of witchcraft bullshit.

─── ❖ ── ✦ ── ❖ ───

The next morning, Dean, Sam and Freya were preparing to leave the house where they had resided for the past few days when Bela opened the door and stepped inside.

"You guys should learn to lock your doors. Anyone could just barge in." She commented, looking at them.

"Anyone just did." Freya answered, closing her backpack. "Did you come to say goodbye or thank you?"

"I've come to settle affairs." Bela said. "Giving the spirit what he really wanted, his own brother, very clever. So here." She tossed them each a packet of money. "It's fifteen thousand. That should cover it."

"Why you giving us this?" Freya asked, looking at her pack of money.

"I don't like being in anyone's debt."

"So ponying up fifteen grand is easier for you than a simple thank you?" Dean questioned. Bela smiled. "You're so damaged."

"Takes one to know one." She pointed out. "Goodbye lads. Freya." She smiled, turning around to leave the place.

"She got style. You gotta give her that." Sam commented, stowing his money inside his duffel bag.

"I suppose." Dean shrugged.

"You know, Dean, we don't know where this money's been."

"No, but I know where it's going... A-HA HA!" Dean laughed, but Freya stopped paying attention to their conversation when she found a small piece of paper among all the money in her packet. Frowning, she pulled it out slightly, finding an address written on it.

"Seriously? Atlantic City?"

"Hell yeah! Play some roulette. Always bet on black."

The conversation between Sam and Dean faded as they left the house to put their luggage in the car. Freya remained static in her place, confused by what Bela had given her. Especially by the message written underneath the address.

"I think you will find some answers there. Your family has always been a mystery, Freya. A mystery that I have always been interested in. But my leads ended there. Good Iuck." — Bela

Tag List: @deans-spinster-witch @lmhf1

If you'd like to be tagged, drop me a comment

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themsource · 9 months

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Circus BSP AU

Soooo...had an idea that's been on my mind a while. Decided to share it because I know I haven't updated anything in a bit and I've been so busy with Secret Santas x_x

Anyways it's a long ramble from my ideas folder, not a real written piece, but I'm placing it below a cut ^^ This idea came to me while listening to Panic! At The Disco's cover of The Greatest Show a while back. I don't know if this has been done before but meh, just wanted to post my take on a circus au with the baddies

Rating: M

TWs: Mentions of torture, Kidnapping, Enslavement, Near Drowning

Nightmare and Dream own their own opposing circus rings. Dream recruits willing participants and their shows are always about love and positivity with graceful displays of athletics like ribbon dancing and aerial silk suspension, baton twirling and contortion, even godly fast speed painting with neon glowing soul magic to show an individual's ultimate dream even if they don’t know it themselves and store it in a personalized orb to take home as a memento for personalized viewing whenever you please.

Nothing risky or seemingly life threatening/daredevil stunted.

No, that’s Nightmare’s theme.

In contrast he doesn’t recruit, he steals and binds individuals into contracts that can only be broken at his word or their untimely death should it occur. His ring has all the horrifying and thrilling shows that leave the audience anxious and on their toes, like sword swallowing/knife throwing/nail walking/fire breathing (Killer), Lions and Tigers - many dangerous animal performances (Horror), highwire/cannonball (Dust), and Motorcycle acts like the Wall of death and globe of terror (Cross).

Nets and other safety precautions are ignored, this is the highlight and draw of Nightmare’s circus alongside the ability for one of your “nightmares” to be engraved on a stone tablet using soul magic so you never have to experience them again once the show is over.

Whereas Dream gives away positivity to spread through the worlds, Nightmare collects negativity in a personal vault for his own sustenance (the stone tablets) while still supplementing what he takes with the experiences his circus gives.

This is the point of contention with the brothers. Dream doesn’t like how Nightmare still puts out negativity while also taking it away - it’s a selfish redundancy in his mind and perceived as unbalance, and Nightmare feels the same about how Dream puts out positivity with his circus but doesn’t take any away not only making his job more difficult to keep the flows even but causing him more suffering with how positive a world will be once Dream holds a performance.

The brother’s once owned a circus together but it broke apart with Nightmare’s downfall.

Everyone was eager to see Dream perform but didn’t care for Nightmare’s escape acts and often boo’d and shamed him leaving the worlds they tried to equally balance always too filled with positivity. One day Nightmare almost died attempting to perform a dangerous escape stunt that he’d concocted to try and gain the audience’s approval, and just when it seemed to be working he ran out of magic (having not slept or ate well as he should’ve the night before when he’d been practicing) and nearly drowned.

Dream was able to pull him free and save him but it took the last of their dead mother’s apples which proved too powerful and shattered Nightmare who was left horrified at what he’d become - a true reflection of ‘a demon’ as people called him, and led to him abandoning Dream to go his own way as the too much positivity started causing him pain and to go into frenzied breakdowns that he’d frequently black out through.

Since then Nightmare has not performed an escape act again and now solely plays ringleader. His innate trauma when it comes to performing is what led to him deciding to bring others into his fold to accomplish his goals, though he doesn’t let anyone know that.

He contracted Killer, Dust, Horror, and then Cross in that order. Stealing them away from their own personal hells he found them in when noticing how fearless they were in the face of horrors far worse than what he had devised, and how equally terrifying their own appearances and auras were and would contribute to the overall effect he was going for. To get them to sign, he tortured them in never ending loops of nightmares, uncaring for how it affected them until they agreed.

Killer was forced to experience going numb and filling with emotion on and off again repeatedly, the pain of switching so rapidly sending him into a spiral until he begged to be freed.

Horror was forced to watch his fellow monsters dust and suffer the insanity inducing hunger wracking his frame as if fresh over and over as his brother kept mutating before his eyes.

Dust had to watch his brother dust before his eyes repeatedly at his own hand no matter how much he fought against it, the pain of which was always too much each reset he experienced in his own world but in the nightmare without the time to breathe between each death and no goal of stopping the human in mind Dust cracked.

Cross was sent into isolation, only it was so much worse as he didn’t have the ability to communicate with himself (even trying to think to himself and hold an imaginary conversation didn’t work) and could only experience the slow crawling of time as a sharp cutting sensation across his bones.

At first the gang all understandably despise Nightmare and what he forces them to do but he’s uncaring of it. However slowly the boys begin to find actual enjoyment in their work and bonding together as they come up with new routine ideas which they loathsomely try to share with Nightmare.

Nightmare begins to feel impressed, even enthused though he doesn’t show it at their forwardness and makes recommendations for how to better execute their ideas while approving them. This causes the boys to begin feeling a sense of freedom and control they haven’t felt in years even before being stolen away but they still don’t soften to Nightmare even as Nightmare begins to soften just a bit to them at their willingness.

It isn’t until Nightmare and his trope encounter Dream and his that the boys end up feeling anything at all other than hate to the dark lord.

They witness the exchange between Dream and Nightmare, the hostility Nightmare has when he and Dream argue over who has the right to be in this world first as Dream speaks in passive aggressive words about Nightmare’s awful decision making and unbalanced influence which Nightmare scoffs at before turning the argument petty as he remarks over Dream’s soft and impassioned performances.

The second Dream comments about how his trope is a work of art while Nightmare’s is nothing more than ‘a glorified torture show’ the boy’s hackles raise - offended, not liking how Dream assumes they hate what they do (not anymore at least) which makes his trope’s performances more genuine and better since they’re willing.

The boys witness the face Dream makes of regret at Nightmare’s bitter parting (dream’s words having surprisingly irked him) but don’t say a word. Instead they sneak in that night to watch Dream’s so called ‘better performances’ and are left feeling bored, and commenting on how it’s too bright, too sparkly and how they can do so much better.

‘at least with us the crowd are actually on their feet.’ Killer huffs. ‘yeah, screaming too.’ Horror drawls. ‘I like the ribbons, not gonna lie.’ as Cross tosses back a handful of popcorn and earns amused scoffs from the others. Dust gives a rare smirk. ‘i have an idea.’

Nightmare is in his room, staring down at an old faded paper article that looks as if it might crumble into ash at the faintest breeze while he tries to ignore the pain in his chest from the positivity flooding the air. It’s a headline advertising his old act, the one that led to his transformation, when Killer walks in. Killer notices the article before Nightmare manages to fold it up and slip it into a breast pocket. It twinges something in him as he asks about it and Nightmare feeling a rare moment of openness blandly tells him of what happened.

Killer is surprised and sudden understanding clicks but Nightmare dismisses it with ‘nothing more than childish hopes and pointless memories, what is it you want killer?’

Killer smiles.

It’s the first time Nightmare has seen that expression on Killer’s face and his socket widens. He feels something precariously close to a thrill race his spine as Killer hums, ‘me and the guys were talking…”

Dream and his friends are beginning to perform the big finale when suddenly the lights go off and Killer comes on over the intercom, ‘well as much as i love that hello kitty and fluffy rainbow shit like the next guy, how about we get a real party started?’ and the lights strobe back on in a kaleidoscope of flashing colors as Nightmare’s gang appear round the top of the stage.

Killer flipping a jewel encrusted knife, Dust spinning an iron balancing rod as if it were a small plastic baton, Horror posed tall and looming with his one ear’d white lion and black tiger, and Cross on his sterling silver colored motorcycle revving the engine.

‘UH, DREAM? WHAT IS–” Before Blue can finish the boys are descending and taking the stage. Horror crowds them off with his animals as Cross races around the arena pulling shocked awes from the crowd and Killer blows fire setting the hanging ribbons up into a blaze of glory, Dust using his balancing rod to propel himself into the air and land on the lighting supports much to many surprised shouts of awe and worry.

Dream can’t help but stare silently along with Blue and Ink as the show is stolen from them and negativity begins to seep in from the shocked and concerned onlookers who can’t bring themselves to look away, even clapping as Horror narrowly dodges being attacked by his own lion to allow the beast to burst through one of Ink’s paintings.

Nightmare watches in stunned surprise, amusement, and dare he even think it…

Endearment.

When all is said and done the crowd goes home excited and raving about the unexpected twist and Dream is left fuming as he goes off about how childish and inappropriate that was. Nightmare shrugs him off as he glances over his shoulder at his smug trope and comments about how it was no decision of his own making. Sure he knew, but he didn’t tell Killer no, but Dream doesn’t need to know that.

When they go home Killer and the boys all gain a new bit of respect for their ring leader, and even a bit of fondness at how he let them do as they pleased. It’s a slow crawl from there. Each of them taking the time to get to know Nightmare a little better after also being told by Killer about his past, even asking him to join them for dinner one day where Nightmare finds enjoyment watching and listening to them go back and forth like a bunch of rowdy roommates.

Horror introduces him to the animals, and manages to calm the tiger enough to let Nightmare pet it. ‘her name’s mira.’

‘...You named her?’

‘yep, her and bosco.’

‘Is Bosco the lion?’

Horror looks oddly fond. ‘heh, no, he’s the gator. the lion is kimba, killer named him.’

Dust invites him to help him as he works on repairing and calibrating his canon, handing him tools and reciting blueprints. ‘need better bolts, these are starting to strip.’

‘I never knew you were so…hands on, Dust.’

‘cross’ fault. i saw him babying that bike of his and got tired of having nothing to do.’

‘I see.’

There’s silence, an uncertainty. ‘...i want to repaint it. i don’t like the colors.’

Nightmare considers. ‘...Alright, what colors would you like?’

Dust’s smile reminds him of Killer’s. ‘heh.’

Cross takes him for a ride and shows him just how fast his bike can go. ‘SLOW DOWN YOU HEATHEN! THIS IS NOT A SHOW!’

‘c’mon nightmare! live a little!’

Nightmare shivers at feeling Cross’s hand guide his to his waist, his voice reminiscent of a whisper into his acoustics. ‘i won’t let you fall.’

Nightmare averts his gaze. ‘Falling is not the point!’

Killer…killer brings him outside and sets him on a blanket beneath the only tree for miles as he sharpens his blades, handing nightmare one after the other and telling him what kind they are like a teenager. ‘and this is a messer! it’s german for knife but looks more like a dagger.’

‘Interesting. You’ve taken care of these well.’

Killer smirks. ‘i take care of the things i care about.’

Nightmare raises a brow as he echos. ‘Care about.’

‘i don’t have to feel it to know that i care about it.’ The shrug he gives is indifferent, but the look is another matter entirely, one that brings a foreign heat to Nightmare’s cheeks. It feels like a flirtation, but it can’t be, he knows where he stands with him - with all of them.

‘An even more interesting notion.’ he whispers.

It isn’t until he stumbles upon Horror pining Dust to a wall in a small forgotten hallway with Dust’s legs around Horror’s hips as they kiss that Nightmare realizes there’s a deeper bond between the members of his trope that he never noticed. One that they’re starting to willingly let him see as he spots Cross and Killer not long after training together with Cross pinned to the knife board as Killer sensually traces patterns across his bones with the tip of a finely oiled blade. It’s shocking how they managed to get away with this, hiding the fluctuations in their emotions from his notice.

The understanding spurs something in him that’s…genuine.

On equal footing.

Killer notices his staring and holds eye contact just out of Cross’ line of sight as he kisses the other skeleton. The emotions are there now, raw and unfiltered. Desire, want…teasing.

It’s an invitation.

Nightmare turns away and hides in his room thinking. He doesn’t know what he feels, not yet. But he does find himself wanting to, maybe, get a little closer to them. To know them, just as they’re obviously trying to do with him.

He likes watching Horror train his pets, he enjoys seeing Cross flip over ramps and twirl his bike beneath him mid-leap, he finds amusement in Killer trying to paint the sky with words made of fire, and he can’t resist staring as Dust pretends multiple times as if he’s going to fall only to stand back upright confidently and with poise. He can’t help wondering if this is what friendship is, companionship. He thought he’d known that once with his brother but he’d been wrong. The feelings are too different.

So he…takes the risk.

The dinners continue, the quality time, with him contributing by inviting them to let him read aloud of his books and going out to explore the worlds now before performing, but it all starts to weigh heavy on him and this manifests in him one day suggesting as Killer and Dust put forth a duet idea to suggest they use netting…in case of an accident.

The boys go silent, staring at him.

Nightmare feels judged, and it’s made clear that he is when Killer says rather carelessly, ‘since when do you care about our safety?’ It’s then made clear to Nightmare that no matter how hard he tries, and no matter what they open up to him and he them, that he can’t be more or get closer.

They will always see him as nothing more than their owner, their master.

‘Forget I said anything.’

Nightmare is left torn, does he put everything on the line by offering to release their contracts in the hopes that they’ll stay when it’s far more likely they’ll run if given the chance? Or does he hold on, and get left standing alone to watch as an outsider on the bond between them just as he’s always been to the universe at large.

He tried to run before he could walk. This is the obstacle between them and the first step that he knows has to be taken, the rest of the moments they share are empty so long as the contracts exist. And not only that but the leagues he’ll have to go to make up for what he put them through when he first found them, if they dare to even give him the chance.

There’s a bitter, terrifying, decision to reach.

Nightmare is in unfamiliar waters as he feels the sting of indecisiveness that he hasn’t felt since he was a child.

#undertale au #circus au #UTMV #nightmare's gang #bad sanses #star sanses #sans/sans #Nightmare #Cross #Dream #Murder!Sans #Dust #Horror #Blue #Ink #bsp #bad sans poly #M rambles #my writing

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symbioticsimplicity · 7 months

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I have a theory that someone else has probably already put out but I haven't seen it so here we go.

I don't think Alastor is actually all that powerful.

Propaganda under the cut.

There are a lot of things that make me think this but we'll start with the first and frankly most obvious to me.

His methodology. Alastor's main thing is making contracts and deals. When we're first introduced to him in the pilot, its with a warning to never make a deal with him. While plenty of other Overlords obviously wheel and deal, I think Alastor's are different. They're more binding and more dangerous because they're his modus operandi.

Another thing is his seeming lack of territory. Every Overlord has actual terf that we see them in, except for Alastor. This could be from lack of interest, or due to having been gone so long, or what have you but it seemed like a strange thing to have not mentioned. In addition, Carmilla, who was leading a meeting on the property and interests of all the represented Overlords and how to protect it, was utterly dismissive of his sudden return. Which to me implies that whatever he controls is likely minimal at best. Meaning him being there is pretty inconsequential to the larger picture. Dude was able to disappear for seven years and it was mostly fine? So what does he actually have?? (My only thought honestly is that maybe the air is his space since radio waves and all. That would honestly be broke as hell but there's no real evidence for this, is would just be really cool.) As much as Vox as making a dig at him, he did have a good point that the reach of radio has certainly died down over the years. While that alone doesn't mean Alastor's power has waned, its not really a *good* sign for him. He still has speakers all over but that and one really rundown store front with a single radio are really the only traces we see of him outside of the hotel.

This bit is conjecture, but when talking about his past, not only does no one ever mention HOW he killed so many powerful Overlords, they don't go into detail about much at all. There's every chance that he could have contracted them the same way he did with Husk and either forced or waited for them to break their end of their deals and THEN used them as fodder to terrorize the masses. Most of his power comes from fear and word of mouth. Most people don't even bother fucking with him because they've heard the stories, or the broadcast.

Which brings me to my next point: The Broadcasts. There are a LOT of ways that Alastor and Vox parallel each other and I can't help but wonder if using their medium to deceive people isn't one of them. So far a lot of the magic we see Alastor use is largely illusionary. Phantoms and shadows and temporary changes of environment. So what if his broadcasts are the same? What if he DOESN'T kill the Overlords he claims to have and instead used his broadcast to simulate it instead. Like War of the Worlds, but on purpose. Honestly it would be smart of him, especially if he's NOT as strong as he seems. This is also conjecture but if he made deals with those Overlords instead, he could still have them stashed away somewhere and just be calling on them and their power as needed. (Also: Husk. This man is a constant pain in the ass and usually disrespectful at best. The only time he pops off on him about it though is when Husk mentions his deal which is really just a big No-No. But he still only *threatens him* which to me implies that he actually does need him. If not for his services, even if only for the power granted by his contract. In the same way that Val doesn't actually kill Angel or anything because he can't REALLY afford to, so he controls him in other ways. If Al isn't this super strong demon, he can't really afford to just go wasting the contracts hes got due to momentary irritation when he can bring them back to heel with some light terror.)

The next thing that makes me think he's probably not super powerful is his fight with Adam. Not because he lost (I firmly believe he only actually lost because he was fucking around most of the time/ wasn't fighting for loved ones) but because of the form he took to do it. He was in a life or death fight with an ostensibly high ranking angel, and yet he didn't pull out anything more than he would have used to fight other sinners. Sure, that could be him being prideful, but I just don't think so. Home boy was being recorded and presumably knew that, if he was being prideful shouldn't he have gone balls to the wall??

In relation to that, he also made a deal himself. Not that we know what it was for or who its with, but would someone as control oriented as Alastor really make a deal if he didn't HAVE to? Overlords don't just DO that, there had to have been a compelling reason and honestly assuming Alastor isn't as strong as he makes himself out to be gives a very good opening for it.

Smaller detail, but it still matters, the smiling. He very clearly uses it as both a shield and a tool to help him maintain control of a situation. Thats not really the kind of thing you think of and commit to if you're the strongest person in the room. Covering up weaknesses obsessively is the sort of thing someone who's fronting does so their secret stays exactly that.

In the same vein, the way he reacted to Lucifer. He was threatened, which is understandable given that Luci is leagues above even the strongest Overlords, but I think it was slightly more than that. Having Lucifer around would make it drastically obvious very quickly that Al isn't as strong as he claims. So of course he tries to unbalance the situation and put focus somewhere else, the same as he always does. (Its actually the same thing he does in his duet with Vox. I'm almost certain Vox IS actually stronger than Alastor but hes so wrapped up in Al's head games he might never notice.)

It's honestly unclear if this has always been the case with him, or if its a result of his deal or his time away or something else entirely, but to me it seems incredibly likely. Alastor mostly keeps order and power through fear, not through enormous shows of power. And even those when he does them are strategic and mostly against opponents he knows are weaker than him. He's clever as all fuck, and still very dangerous for it but I don't think hes actually all that physically powerful.

#hazbin hotel #hazbin alastor #the radio demon #i love him I really do but this has been bothering me since the pilot #hes a mover and a shaker and I'm pretty sure hes hustling all of hell #which is frankly fucking impressive #what i wouldn't give for his backstory to show his daddy being a conman #mama is respectable but black in 1920 something #and daddy is a pos conman #alastor the gentleman con artist just FEELS right #especially ESPECIALLY if he was a white passing mixed race man #like actually that would be amazing #and then he just kept up old habits when he died and learned he could FINALLY have the power he never had in life #except its still all a lie #I'd be fucking foaming at the mouth I'm telling you #also i didn't mention this but hommie is a fucking DEER #hes a PREY ANIMAL #that alone seems pRETTY FUCKING TELLING

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nushy · 2 years

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i won't be a second choice pt. 2 - alternative ending.

pairing: rockstar!Eddie x fem!reader

warnings: angst, cursing, mentions of alcohol and drugs, cheating, pregnancy, giving birth

A/N: I really had no idea where to go with this, but... we are here. I've aged up the characters obviously - so they are between 25-27 years old. I fixed it, okay.

pt. 2 of this and an alternative ending of this

...

It's been 7 months since you broke up with Eddie - since that night when you left him in the dark room, both of you broken and scared of the future.

You've already made countless of lists full of pros and cons of telling him the truth and trying to fix up everything. And you still didn't know what to do. You were sure only about one thing - you loved him and you didn't want your child to not know her father. Your little girl.

Robin and Steve were constantly telling you that they would be next to you all the time if you needed them - they would be the coolest and most supportive aunt and uncle in the world and yet... a kid needs a father, a good and caring father. And deep inside you knew that Eddie would be such, in your head you could picture him, he'd call her his little princess and would spoil her, giving her everything she wanted. The picture made you tear up.

The sudden pain took your breath away. It was around 2 am, another sleepless night for you and you were just lying in your bed. Another strong wave of pain shot through your body. You knew what that meant - the baby was coming. Shitshitshit.

It was at that moment that your mind was completely clear of what you wanted - knowing that Eddie was in town, you quickly grabbed the phone and dialed the number you knew by heart.

"Yeah..." a sleepy voice, that you knew so well, answered.

"Eddie.. it's me..." you had to stop because of the pain.

"Love!" he was wide awake, you could almost see him in his bed, up and ready to do whatever you wanted. Confused by the silence on the other end, he continued "Is everything alright?"

"Yeah... but... can you come to my house... I need to go to the hospital." it was hard for you to talk, barely being able to take a breath.

"Are you alright? Is everything okay?" you felt the panic in his voice. Damn his questions, couldn't he just come??? "I'll be there in no time." it was as if he read your thoughts. Panic washed over you as you just now realized that you haven't seen him since the break up and he had no idea of your current condition. Shit.

...

It took him half of the time that he usually needed to come to your house. He parked his car and got out. You were already at your front door with your little bag with things needed in the hospital. He froze when he saw you.

"I think I have something to tell you." you smiled weakly as another contraction hit you. He was next to you for a split second, grabbing your hand and helping you to get to the car.

"Now is not the time." he said too serious for him. You had to agree with that.

...

You thought that the contractions were bad, but this, right now, was worse. You had no idea of how much time has passed, of how many times you've pushed or of how many times you begged for this to be over. Pain was everything you felt right now... and Eddie's hand, grabbing yours in a desperate attempt to calm you.

"One more push." a nurse said too calmly for your liking. With the last drop of your strength you pushed and you knew it was over. The doctor announced "it's a healthy baby girl." and you heard her charming crying in the corner of the room.

"You did it, love. You were so strong." Eddie whispered in your ear, still holding your hand. You felt the tears streaming from your eyes.

"Eddie..." you began.

"Shh... I just want to know.. is she... am I her.." it was hard for him. You just nodded. And that's when he allowed himself to cry. You both cried, grabbing each other's hand, foreheads pressed to one another.

"I'm sorry, Eddie, please..." you tried to speak.

"No, no.. I have to beg for your forgiveness. Please, let me be in her life, in your life. You are my everything... you've been my everything always, but now.. she is too. My princesses." you were both ugly crying. "I don't think this is the proper time, but still... will you be mine forever, I don't have a ring and all of that fancy shit, but I will give you the world if I have to." Eddie said in a completely serious tone. You nodded. All of the emotions made you unable to speak, but this was enough for him.

This was enough for you. You were happy.

...

taglist: @bibieddiesgf

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson x you #eddie x reader #eddie munson #eddie x you

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benjaminrydersnest · 7 months

Note

For the ask game :)

✏️"what are your current WIPs about?" 🖋️"what inspired you to write your WIPs?" ❓ask anything you want!: "who are your favourite characters that you've created so far? talk about them if you'd like to share!"

Have a great day <3

✏️: A lone child, forced by extenuating circumstances to grow up fast, traveling the kingdom while being hunted; several people get isekai'd into a new life entirely, and are haunted by memories of what was and the knowledge that that cannot be anymore; an infamous villain loses his memory, and now he must recover what he can, while being hunted and tracked from every direction and trying to grapple with the fact that he is a different, better person now. 🖋: The first one? I love Medieval Fantasy. It's one of my favorite genres, and the first story I ever tried writing, Dragon Slayer Adventure (amazing title, I know) was one of them. I've always loved a good story of that genre. The second one? It seemed so genuinely interesting as a concept to break convention and not have isekai'd protags be immediately enamored with the world around them and instead be haunted by the stark reality that they can never go back to what was. The third? The Bourne Trilogy and Metal Gear series, as well as some of pre-reboot Archie Sonic. It just sounded cool and now I'm rolling with it. ❓: I have two in particular I'm obsessed with. Daniel Fawkes is a rich businessman and owner of scientific research company FawkesCorp along with his brother, Valian. However, he seems... Shady. It's not obvious at first, but eventually it's revealed that he is doing some genetic experimentation with lizard genes and calls his "other" self Raptor. Trevor Steele was born on a nice island out at sea with his family, and quickly broke away from their extreme strictness and was disowned, but his sister Angela took care of him. He and his brother Darren argued a lot, but his sister would always comfort him. His sister contracted cancer, his mother died, and his sister died soon after in front of his eyes. He lost himself, becoming extremely angry and spiteful, not helped when his agency was partially stripped by Valian Fakwes (there's the name again!) and before he could have room to breathe, it was taken again by Hector Finch. After being let free, he lost his memory due to an accident and became the focus character of the third WIP I mentioned, making it all come full circle.

Thanks for the ask! I haven't really talked much about these, it's nice to put it out there in some fashion.

#writing #writers #writers on tumblr #writeblr #ask games

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0perfectimperfections0 · 1 year

Note

What if the factory robots had given the new leader Ox, a shockcollar and remote to punish Lou instead of the washer. Because they don't want their best prototype to be ruined, they offered an alternative method in keeping Lou under control by the dolls.

Mkay...I've actually played around with this idea a bit, which will explain why this short story went on longer than I knew it would.

Needless to say, 9 Google-Doc-Pages-Later, I finished this.

Enjoy, and I'll put a "read more" bit right at the beginning just cause it's a lot and I don't wanna give a hard time to those of you that enjoy scrolling through the feeds instead of using the pinned post.

<><><><><>

Lou's breathing was a bit off-kilter from the shocks. He looked up at Ox through his lashes and drooping bangs. "Don't like your new pet?" He asked venomously. Wrists were bound behind his back by metal clasps. These did not produce electrocution and were assumably only temporary. Ox hoped so, anyhow.

Ox stared down at the prototype with so much conflict warring in him.

"Do it," Lou panted with a challenging look in his eyes. "You know you want to. This is my punishment, right? For trying to kill all of you. For lying. Cheating. Destruction. Sabotage. The list goes on. That's at least five shocks right there."

"Stop talking," Ox growled lowly.

Lou rose his brows minutely with an air of sass. "Yes, Master."

His chin was grabbed quickly. Ox glared. "Don't…call me that. The factory ain’t doin’ this to ya ‘cause of any of those things and you know it. They lost control over ya and they want it back. They're just makin’ us do their dirty work. So don't call me that."

Lou still held a level gaze. "Yes, Sir."

Ox's hand tensed around Lou's jaw and the other around the remote. The only pressure Lou took note of was the one holding the remote. He maintained eye contact but watched that green thumb hover over the button. He tensed on instinct, waiting for the shock, and his pupils contracted in a rush of fear. None of it went unnoticed by Ox. "Don't call me that," he almost hissed out. "I'm Ox. Just say Ox."

Lou's eyes deviated from his. They went to a robot watching a ways off. Lou whispered as his eyes trailed back to Ox's. "I'm not allowed to be informal. That's part of obedience. I have to address you as either Sir or Master…like I'm supposed to with my Creator."

This was nauseating. Ox looked down at the collar, lowering the hand on Lou's chin to thumb over the cold metal. "Can we break it?"

Lou's eyes lowered to the ground. "No, Sir. It sends out another shock if too much pressure is applied. I've tried before in the past." There was a significant pause. "There is another way, though, that I haven't tried yet."

"What is it?"

Blue eyes met his again. "You won't like it–Sir." He quickly added when he almost forgot. Ox didn't respond but waited for him to continue. "If you take me to the recycle–"

"No," Ox said it so quickly and with so much conviction it actually made Lou flinch. "We're not doin’ that. It's not an option."

"Sir–"

"No, enough, I'm not doin’ it." Ox stepped back from Lou, rubbing a paw over his ears. "There has to be another way."

Mandy wrung her hands together, looking at the collar. "Why does the factory think you need this?"

"I haven't been doing what they want me to do." Lou sounded so empty inside as he stared ahead. "I've let too many imperfect dolls through the portal. I let you all train. I broke the portal. Not to mention the countless times I've tried to go through the portal. I'm not allowed to touch it–not like I can go through anyway–but attempts are against the rules." Lou hung his head, shrugging with a slight tilt to the head as he remembered another thing. "Oh, and I ran the Gauntlet." Another pause. “I’m not perfect enough for him.”

“Him?” Ox stared ahead, trying to think of a way to get Lou out of this mess.

“My Creator. The one who made me. I belong to him and this factory.”

“Then we can talk to him,” Moxy tried for a smile with the idea. “I’m sure he doesn’t want his doll to be…like this. Maybe if we tell him what’s going on then he can stop it.” Lou shook his head, not looking at her. “It’s worth a shot, right? You said you belong to him. He’ll help you.”

“The way I belong to my Creator is different from the way you all belong to your kids. He owns me. He owns me like a slave. I’m not his doll, I’m his puppet. He uses me to get the inner workings accomplished within the Institute and I am expected to obey his every command.”

“Then we fight back,” Moxy looked determined as always.

“Woah, now, girly,” Wage stepped in quickly, “this ain’t any of our business, much less our problem.”

“Wage is right,” Lucky glanced nervously at Lou. “This has nothing to do with us. It’s more serious than going through a pipe, Moxy.”

“Well, shouldn’t we do something to stop this?” She challenged.

“I’m telling you how to stop this,” Lou hissed. He noticed the robot’s eyes blink red in the distance and he corrected himself. Lou bowed his head and fixed his face, bangs drooping low enough to cover his glare at the ground. “Take me to the recycle,” he said quietly.

“And do what exactly?” Ox finally looked back down at Lou. Blue eyes looked up through his bangs, anger burning in them.

“Kill me. It’s been a decade of this. The process will just repeat itself.”

“Just do what he tells ya to do!” Ox was growing frustrated and desperate.

“If I do…someone’s still gonna die, Sir. It just won’t be me.” The dolls grew silent. Ox stared down at Lou for a long moment. The pieces were beginning to fall into place.

“You ain’t the reason I had to go through the pipes.”

“I did what he told me to.” Lou’s eyes lowered, tired now of upholding the stare-off. His shoulders slumped and he wiggled his fingers to get the feeling back in them. “That’s all I’ve ever been doing since I was created. At some point, I just got sick and tired of listening. That’s when new punishments were implemented to keep me in line.”

Ox thought for a moment. It was just extreme measures just to keep Lou in line. And to the perspective of a human…Lou was just a doll. Just a prototype. Obviously, he was much more than that to Ox, but this Creator wouldn’t see it that way. Lou could have been replaced at any point once he started disobeying. So, why keep him around? “It sounds like he’s afraid of ya.” He looked down in the corner of his eye to gauge Lou’s reaction.

The blond chuckled dryly. “Sure. Like I’ve got any ground on him. I don’t see why he doesn’t just make a new prototype. Give him a new toy to play with and let me just die already.”

“He’s keeping you alive for a reason,” Mandy spoke somewhat to herself. She sat on her knees in front of Lou, brushing part of his hair back to look at the collar better. “Maybe he can’t make another prototype.”

Lou barely glanced into her eyes—more conscious of her hand fiddling with the edge of the clasp on his neck. “It wouldn’t be that hard. Make a doll and stuff a microchip in its neck. Voila. New prototype.”

“Microchip?” Ox echoed.

“The thing that—other than my Creator—keeps me alive. It’s buried in my neck on the right side. If it weren’t for that thing, I probably wouldn’t feel a single shock. Or anything, for that matter. I’d be dead.”

“You never told us any of this before,” Mandy looked almost betrayed by the lack of information.

“Well, forgive me, Ma’am, for not being so open. I didn’t exactly want my one vulnerability to be exposed to the public. Anyone could kill me if they wanted to with a hard enough punch to the throat.”

“No one would’ve done that,” Moxy looked disgusted by the thought.

“I’m not exactly popular at the moment, so don’t speak so soon,” Lou commented sarcastically. “The names also didn’t flow smoothly off the tongue. What did they use to call me? Cyborg. That was a fun one, very creative. Android. Unique, still didn’t sound as good as Lou. Sometimes they abandoned creativity and just called me a robot.”

Mandy tilted Lou’s head to one side to expose the right portion of his neck. She tapped the red light experimentally. Maybe they could use some sort of tool to disassemble the collar. “You’re still a doll, though, other than that. Stuffing inside, right?” Lou hummed in agreement. “You’re more sentient than those robots by a long shot—lift your head.” He did so. Both her hands went to either side of his neck, trying to feel for any bolts or screws that could be undone. “I’m wondering if there’s a safer way to get it off. One that doesn’t involve you getting hurt.”

“Funny,” Lou sent her a wry smile while his head was tilted upward, “after that episode in the pipes, I would’ve thought you to be the last person to care.”

“I don’t care,” she muttered.

Lou hummed. “Then take me to the recycle.”

She took him by the chin, lowering his face to be level with hers now. “Stop talking.”

He gave her a haughty look, brow raising. “Yes ma’am.”

<><><><><>

They were in Ox’s home, sprawling out the plethora of tools Babo had emptied from his pockets. Lou watched placidly. They had gotten the cuffs around his wrists off. Submission didn’t look right on him. Not when they had become so used to the confident, authoritative figure he used to be. It was obvious that Lou wasn’t enjoying it, either. He sat on the floor, cross-legged, with one hand propping up his head and the other picking at the carpet.

“You’re wasting your energy,” Lou commented off-handedly. “I gave you the easy way out.”

He was ignored by all of them. What was the big deal? They didn’t like him anyway. There shouldn’t be any issue with sending him to the recycling to be destroyed.

The remote controlling his collar probably shouldn’t have been haphazardly set on the floor along with the assortment of tools. Moxy wasn’t watching where she stepped and the back of her heel landed on the button. They nearly jumped out of their felt when Lou screamed. Blue and white sparks danced around the surface of the collar as it went off. Lou doubled over, fingers now digging into the carpet as his body jolted and he tried to bite back screams. Moxy jumped about a foot in the air when she realized what happened and the shocks stopped. Lou took in staggering gasps of air, eyes squeezed shut so he wouldn’t pass out from the colored splotches in his vision.

“Oh my doll! I’m so sorry!” Moxy gently kicked the remote far away and rushed over to him. Something red trickled down his lips. He coughed more of the liquid up, nearly sending Moxy into a full-on panic as she thought it was blood.

“I’m fine,” he spoke hoarsely, wiping the red stuff away with his sleeve. Probably not a good idea. He was still wearing his white dress shirt. It left a large, red stain on it. Great. “It’s not blood. I’m still stuffing inside, remember?” His attempt at a joke failed miserably when Moxy didn’t look relieved by that answer.

“Th-Then what is it?” She was hesitant to touch him. As if he were delicate and would break. She didn’t want to hurt him again.

“Silicone discharge,” he answered, a thumb rimming over his bottom lip to wipe it off. It stained his fingers red. “It’s from the microchip. It does that with high voltages. Not sure why.” Something yellow came into view and he lifted his head to see Mandy kneeling down in front of him. She took a wet washcloth and wiped his mouth and fingers. The mix of colors turned certain spots green on the cloth.

“Hold that to your mouth,” Mandy ordered. “Ox, you wouldn’t happen to have anything else he can wear, would you?”

“It’s fine,” Lou mumbled around the cloth. “I’ve gotten more stains on me than this before.”

“Yeah, well, it looks like blood and I’m not staring at it for the rest of the day.” Mandy grabbed another wet washcloth and tried wiping at the spot while Ox went to search for a shirt. The cloth held up to his mouth was taken—soaked and nearly completely green. “I’ll be right back.”

“Recycling is looking a lot better now, huh?” Lou licked his lips to try and get rid of some of it. It was pooling in his mouth. Metallic-tasting and bitter.

Mandy had half a mind to slap him across the face when she returned with a new washcloth. A part of it would have been fueled by anger at hearing him speak about suicide so lightly. The other would have been misdirected anger at herself for even caring about what happened to him. But Lou wasn’t phased by anger. That was the very essence of what fueled his own actions. The only thing he would probably respond to is something he wasn’t familiar with.

The dark-skinned doll sat back down in front of him, gently placing the wet rag on his mouth and handing him a cup to spit into. She watched him for a moment. “You’re really strong.” He looked up at her, obviously caught off guard by the compliment. “If I was in your position, I don’t think I would’ve been able to endure it. Not for ten years.”

Lou scoffed, breaking eye contact. “I wish I’d given up sooner. All I did was prove to my Creator how much of a submissive pet I was by obeying. I should’ve thrown myself into the recycling years ago to make my point.”

“That’s what you think that is? You think killing yourself is proving a point?”

“You said so yourself that he’s keeping me alive for a reason. I’m not gonna give him what he wants.”

“Then stand up to him—in a real way. Talk back. Fight. Something.” Mandy flared her hands in the air, trying to think of alternatives.

“I. Can’t.” Lou looked into her eyes, pupils contracted. His voice shook a little no matter how hard he tried to control it. “I get treated like a rabid dog the second I break one of the rules. What do you think he’ll do to me if I blatantly go against him? He won’t kill me, but I’ll wish I was dead. I wish I was dead right now.”

“I think Ox is right. I think he’s afraid of you and is doing this to make you feel inferior.” Lou rolled his eyes with a scoff. “People don’t bring others down for no reason, Lou. Not even you. Me and you both know that the only reason you tried so hard to get rid of Moxy was because you knew she could beat you.” Lou glared dangerously but kept silent. “Your Creator is doing the same thing to you.”

Ox came in and the group grew silent again. Lou had been glaring at Mandy when Ox reentered the room. He looked between the two, a grey t-shirt in his paws. “What’d I miss?”

<><><><>

“Alright, hold still.”

“Yes, Ma’am.”

Mandy intentionally pinched Lou’s neck, making him flinch. It didn’t wipe the tired, really-wish-this-was-over look in his eyes. His head was tilted, exposing the collar, and Mandy held a pair of metal pliers. “We’re not in the open anymore. Stop with that.”

“It wasn’t even for that, actually. I more or less want to be on good terms with the person who has a weapon aimed at my throat. But by all means, take a stab at it.” He meant this literally and figuratively.

Moxy returned with another clean washcloth. He’d gone through three of them by now. All soaked with discharge. The voltage was much higher the second time than the first. It felt like it grew stronger with each administration. Some of the carpet had accidentally gotten torn up as well from how far his nails had dug in.

“Alright, I’m gonna pull,” Mandy warned. Lou only nodded minutely and stuffed the rag into his mouth, biting down on it, to muffle his screams and prepare for the discharge. Moxy stood in front of Lou, grabbing him by the wrists tightly so he wouldn’t claw at anything. The pink doll watched Mandy mouth a countdown before pulling downward with the pliers.

Moxy’s feet nearly slipped and she had to quickly adjust to the sheer force of Lou’s arms pushing against her as the shocks went through him. He was strong by himself, but gosh, if the pain didn’t seem to amplify his strength by a ton. Lou’s eyes were squeezed shut as he screamed through the rag. Red liquid started seeping through, trailing down the corners of his mouth. The other dolls had to look away. Moxy closed her eyes as well and concentrated solely on keeping Lou’s hands up.

Ox kept his eye open. It was trained more so on the collar than Lou’s face. Mandy didn’t seem to be gaining any ground as she continued to put all of her weight into pushing down on the collar to break it loose.

The rag was released from Lou’s mouth and he cried out with tears streaming down his face. “Stop! Please stop!” Mandy immediately released and the shocks halted. Lou’s body finally untensed and he sucked in a breath of air as he sobbed. Red discharge pooled in his mouth and Babo was quick to go grab another rag. They could barely wipe away any of the liquid as Lou doubled over, crying. Moxy eased his arms down to his lap but didn’t let go.

Mandy snaked her arms around his torso, forehead pressing against the side of his. “I’m sorry,” she whispered, “I’m so sorry.”

They had to calm Lou down before he choked on the fluids pooling in his mouth. He coughed up a concerning amount and more was dripping down his chin. Ox patted Lou’s back a few times to get the airways clear again. “P-Please,” Lou choked out, “I-I’m begging you…t-take—take me to recycle.”

Mandy opened her eyes, lifting her head to rest her chin on the crown of his head. Taking in a shaky breath, “Okay.” The others stared at her with wide eyes. Ox gave her an understanding look, ears drooping behind him. “Alright…if that’s what you want…we’ll take you there.”

<><><><>

It was silent the whole walk. Lou was supported by Mandy and Wage, arms draped around their shoulders. That last shock had taken almost everything out of him. It was a surprise he was even alive. Mandy kept a rag in one hand, dabbing it against his mouth periodically. Most of the discharge had ebbed away.

“Stop,” Lou sounded breathless. They halted and Lou’s knees buckled. The two girls eased him onto the ground on his knees. He braced his arms against the ground, trying to blink away the colored splotches in his vision.

“We got company,” UglyDog growled, fur bristling.

Three robots were headed toward them. The one in the lead narrowed its sights on Lou. “Where are you taking Prototype Model 12?” It came to a stop just a few feet from them.

The dolls exchanged looks. There was no answer.

“Attempt at escape is futile–”

“Escape or saving?” Ox narrowed his eye. “This whole punishment is outta line! What makes any o’ this humane!?”

“If the punishment is not carried out, we will take matters into our own hands.” The second robot held up a remote. Lou still had his back to the robots, eyes narrowing in hazily on the pipe just a ways off.

"You will obey my every command. Right down to the word."

"Yes, Sir."

"Good." There was a distinct pause. "You will never turn against me. I am your Creator. Your Savior."

Blue eyes stared dead ahead, still. "Yes, Sir."

Lou’s hands turned to fists on the ground. One of the robots was spitting out those stupid rules again. “Prototype Model 12 has not exuberated proper obedience. He must be properly conditioned to follow orders.”

"You will submit yourself to me. You will belong to me."

"Yes, Sir."

Everything. All of it. He hated it. He hated being stuck here. He hated submitting himself to that monster. He hated the rules. He hated the isolation. He hated hating things because he had nothing to love. He hated being tossed around and abused like a ragdoll.

One of the Uglies said something that didn’t sit well with the robots. The button was pressed and a nauseating jolt made Lou’s heart sink down into his stomach and jump up in his throat at the same time.

“Say it.”

“I am worthless without you.”

“Again.”

“I am worthless without you.”

“You. Belong. To me.”

“I belong to you, Sir.”

Lou screamed bloody murder, discharge dripping down from his teeth and onto the ground. It wasn’t all from the pain. Rage. It made his heart race faster than the shocks did. It made his muscles tense and some foreign energy danced on his fingertips. Before any of the dolls knew it, blue eyes shot open. The whole expanse of them glowed an iridescent blue. The lights in the Institute flickered as if the sun held no purpose. The clouds rolled and twisted as if they didn’t know which way to go. The wind picked up speed. Lou screamed at the top of his lungs, rage bursting out of him along with the bolt of electricity that shot out from his fingers to the robots.

The dolls backed away, giving Lou a wide berth as he stood on trembling legs and halfway turned to the other two robots. The lead one was nothing but a smoking hunk of metal now. An arm was outstretched and blue streams of electricity shot out and fried the other two robots.

Even as electricity sparked and danced between Lou’s fingers, the lights began to stop flickering and the wind died down. Lou struggled to breathe, chest heaving. His eyes dimmed and the iris’ became visible again. The outstretched arm dropped to his side as if it weighed more than he could handle. His hold body began to cripple and fall to the floor. Mandy caught him by the underarms before he could reach the ground.

“W-What…was that?” Wage asked with a trembling voice.

They could only stare at Lou as his eyelids fell shut and he went limp in Mandy’s arms. Smoke trailed from the ground at Lou’s feet where the collar around his neck had broke and the cross-section was charred black. She lowered herself to the ground, bringing Lou with her. He was still breathing, thank goodness.

Ox tentatively reached out and took Lou’s wrist, sliding his paw down to the hand. Short sparks erupted now and then at the fingertips. Ox sucked in a quick breath when one of them stung his hand. “This…,” he couldn’t explain it, nor understand it, “this is what his Creator was afraid of.”

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hibewriter · 4 months

Text

Lost In Translation

Masterlist Read it on AO3 WIP Chapters: 1 2

The Rings of Power / Lord of the Rings | Haladriel / Saurondriel | 5.4K | E

Tags: 1st persn POV | Dual POV | Drug Use | Character Death | Referenced Domestic Violence

Chapter Two: Sober

March 2003

Halbrand

I won my first Oscar off the back of a murder I committed. It sounds dramatic, but it's true.

It's hard to explain. I had gotten the call to audition for the film in August of '01. I remember it vividly. My agent, Mel, had called me, claiming he was about to take me from the B-List to the A-List. I, being the responsible age of twenty-one, was coked out of my mind, sitting on the floor of my then girlfriend's apartment wondering if I could fix all of Los Angeles' traffic problems. I wasn't ready for star potential. Plus, Mel had told me that before. So I told him to fax me the script.

When I first read the script to GreyMan, twenty minutes into a comedown and half-heartedly thinking I'd text my girlfriend back, I cried. Not in that "I saw something sad and needed to let a tear go" type of way. No, I had a full breakdown in a New York apartment while I cried over the character I was supposed to read for in a little over a week. I won't summarize the film for you, likely to be found on any such streaming service or whatever new bullshit way we've made to fork over hundreds of dollars to people who still haven't given me my residuals. I digress.

The leading man was haunted, using substances to run from his mistakes and never confront the victims of his past. I guess it resonated with me. Not so much the political intrigue aspect of the film, but the character spoke to me. So I auditioned for the role. I got it on October first. I remember because when I got the call, Mel had said something I'd never heard him say before.

"I'm proud of you."

Fuck me, apparently. It wasn't the first role I ever auditioned for, nor was it the first one I'd gotten hired for. We both knew at this point that I was a damn good actor, that I'd been doing this long enough to act circles around the fresh faces. I was young, but I'd been in front of the camera since I was nine. But now that it was a script he liked...

I tried to get sober for the first time on October third, two thousand and one. It lasted precisely ten days, fifteen minutes, and thirty seconds. My girlfriend, broke up with me, the second I confided in her what I'm about to tell you. Up until this point, I hadn't thought to mention it to her, as it hadn't even crossed my mind to tell her that I was a murderer. As you can imagine, it's not the first, second, or third thing I want to think about. Even more so, not when she reacted like that.

I need to preface the following with the truth. I am not proud of how I handled this. I'm not proud of the monster I became.

Yet, she was going to leave. And if she left, she would've told everyone. So as she was walking past me I grabbed her. I drug her through the apartment, ignoring her scratches and screaming at me to let her go. I threw her onto the bed I used to fuck her on. I held her down by the throat. I waited 'til she passed out. I was well and truly panicked. I called Mel. He faxed an NDA and told me to make sure it was signed. When she woke up, I watched her sign it. I watched and she looked at me with fear. No one had ever looked at me like that before. But it wouldn't be the last time.

Looking back, maybe I should've been more concerned that my agent had an NDA built and ready to go covering murder and domestic violence. (Not that the contract was enforceable, but she didn't know that. I think she might now. To Narya, I'm so sorry I hurt you. I know that's not enough. I'm sorry that this won't be the first apology to a woman I cared for in this reflection. None of them will be enough.)

On March twenty-first, nineteen ninety-nine, I killed Finrod Noldor. It was an accident, but no one could prove that. It was an accident, but it was still my fault. I had brought the cocaine to Círdan Nowë's afterparty. I was the one who laid it out on the tray, I was the one who handed Finrod the hundred that he'd use to snort that white powder off Círdan's expensive coffee table. He was dead within half an hour. It would've been quicker to just shoot him. It would've been kinder. The kindest thing would've been not to kill a man in front of his kid sister. But all I could do was hold her back from the body when the paramedics came. I gave her a pillow, but in her grief, I might as well have just been an invisible man. There's nothing you can say to someone after that.

So I say nothing. And then I go to base the best performance of my career so far on the event. I'm an actor after all.

GreyMan was – is – my most hated film, personally. I didn't enjoy filming, I didn't agree with certain choices from the director, and I hated most of my co-stars. I never hid that. Mel hated that I never hid it in interviews or red carpet chats designed to make people like me. He would yell at me for hours on the phone after press days when all I wanted to do was slip into a fan who hung too close, or a drink. None of that stopped the film from being a box-office success.

I was twenty-one. It was the first time in my life I didn't have to pretend to like the assholes who were old enough to buy my alcohol or get my ID forged. I didn't have to pretend that I liked fucking Isildur, no last name because he's pretentious and thinks he was as good as Cher. Even though the only reason he was in GreyMan was because his father was a Hollywood legend and he didn't need to audition for half the films he was cast for. There was none of trying to smile and be correct for the camera. Not then. I was twenty-one, invincible. I was the next biggest star in the world, and I knew it. The press knew it. My manager knew it. So you'll forgive me for not bowing down to the face of Isildur and the scourge of nepotism.

Again, I must digress.

The red carpet is the worst part of the Oscars. I've only been to one sober, and it definitely wasn't this one. In the car ride to the Dolby Theater, I had maybe fifty milligrams of cocaine. I think it's that number, the way I normally divvied up each baggie. I hadn't had a full eight ball since nineteen ninety-nine, for obvious reasons. I wasn't looking to die or disappear from my mind. I was looking to feel something other than the consistent anxiety that came with fame. Cocaine didn't help that much, truth be told, but my mind was thinking too fast for me to focus on any one terror. If I can't think about it, I can't be in it.

The second I step out of the car, the flashing is nothing short of overwhelming. Hundreds of paparazzi lined up just to snap my photo as I stepped down the carpet to the reporter area. Behind them are fans, or me or other celebrities coming behind me it didn't matter, who screamed so loud that to this day I lament forgetting to use the flesh-toned earplugs Mel had offered me.

The reporters are worse. The ones who ask questions about the film we're nominated for, most of them the exact same and banal. Who's the funniest person in the cast? Or, God forbid, besides your film, who will you be rooting for tonight? First of all, all co-stars are equally as funny. We've been trained to be charismatic as shit since the moment any of us stepped foot in L.A. Everyone is stereotypically funny. Throw a dart at the wall and they can probably make you laugh. Secondly, no one. I only want to win. I want to have a complete run of the house when it comes to the Oscars because I did what it took.

But you can't say that.

No, you have to smile and flash your teeth that you just got painfully whitened to a blinding degree the day before. You have to nod along and choose the safest option from a list of pre-selected movies you're allowed to root for. Nothing with a director under fire, nothing from an actor who is in the midst of a scandal. Compliment the underdog, people love to see the sure bet root for the first-timer. And usually, all of that works. Usually, the prep work that comes from The Ainur Talent Agency is enough.

Unless you're the unlucky bastard who finds himself on the other side of Miriel Elros' microphone.

I want to lie and say I don't remember what she asked me. I want to lie and pretend that she's not the first person to break through my drug-induced haze with a question designed to turn me into a frozen mess. Miriel knows how to find the sorest spot of an actor's life and then attack where they can't run and hide. She was a viper in a nest of rodents, and often I find myself wondering why she didn't do things like political journalism, critiquing those who actually made things happen. She'd be an excellent correspondent.

"The last time you were here, you were getting ready to lose the nineteen ninety-nine award for Best Supporting Actor in A Beautiful Life, for your role next to Finrod Noldor. How do you feel now, on the red carpet, being nominated for the same award as your late friend?"

She called him my friend. It was like a knife to the gut. Finrod was anything but my friend. We were on the same set, yes. We shared two, maybe three scenes together in a film, and he was one of those people who had the air of magmatism around him no matter what he did. But we never hung out. We never grabbed lunch or coffee. We were cordial. The only time I had ever seen him outside of the set was that night. And that ended on the opposite end of friendly.

It's easy enough to ignore the jab on losing my first nomination. The loss had four years to marinate in my head, and it no longer bothered me. But the word friend. It felt like a stone in my throat. I remember clearly, my brow furrowing as I kept the polite smile on my lips, my drug-addled brain searching for the words to say while Miriel stood, microphone held to my face. It could've been seconds or hours before I responded.

"Well," I say, hoping the panic isn't seeping into my voice. "Finrod was an amazing actor, and even more he was an amazing person. Everyone who has won this award in the past four years should be grateful to be considered in the same category as him. I know I am. Win or lose, I am just honored to be considered on the same list as an icon such as himself."

I wasn't lying. Well, not fully. I did respect Finrod, probably as much as the next person. Did I consider him an icon? Not for acting. The most notable thing he ever did was die, and he didn't really get much say in that performance, did he? He was a legend but only in the tragedy of his real life. But, it was an honor to be named best actor. It was an honor to earn the award so early in both our careers. Even though I felt smug that I got there nearly nine years before he did.

I only breathed when Miriel stepped away from me.

The actual ceremony was full of shit. Star after star rose to the stage to thank the people they'd spent the last year yelling at. Every actor on the stage had yelled at their agent or manager or even their director at least once a month for the past twelve months, only to plaster on fake smiles as soon as a camera came out and forced them to adopt the "lovable hot starlet" persona they all attempted to adopt. This isn't to say I didn't do the same thing when my name was called. I thanked the director, my fellow castmates, and god I only partially believed in. I smiled and let the stagehand lead me backstage.

When I got back to my seat I smiled for every award after mine. I clapped for the other movies that won, including when we lost Best Picture to Atlanta, a musical retold as a film. Fake smiles, continue to applaud. After all, I'd gotten what I wanted. I won the golden trophy. I still have it, it's collecting dust on my mantle at the L.A. home. I only stay there when I have to.

But the worst part of that night came at the end. The moment I was leaving early from Isildur's afterparty where I only took one more bump before settling for his shit beer and ignoring the eyes that his sister flashed at me all night. I'd won the award and I made my required appearances, all I wanted was to slink back into my bed at home. Anárion, the more talented brother of Isildur, stopped me on my way out.

"Feels like shit, doesn't it?" He asked. What the fuck happened to hello? Hi, how are you?

"Being at this party? Yes."

The bastard laughs, nodding toward the balcony door rather than the front door I was heading to. And my dumbass follows him, probably more so following the pack of cigarettes he pulls out. They're not my favorite vice but hell, when they're available.

"The Oscar is shit," he says when we get outside. I take one of his cigarettes, barely waiting for him to extend his lighter before I light it and take the first drag. Hell, but I doubt heaven would feel better. "Bunch of pretentious dickheads."

I nod, giving a bit of an exhale. "But it's everything."

"Why, do you think?" He looks genuinely curious about my answer, and for the first time, I think that maybe this conversation is a test.

"We're actors, Anárion," I say after just a moment. "If we don't get the shiny trophy and the magazine articles claiming that we're special, what makes us better than Joe Nobody working at the Walgreens down the street?"

He exhales his own puff of smoke, and the wind pushes it directly back into my face. I barely felt it at the time, peering at the man next to me as he considered my words. There's enough of a beat that we both take another drag, and I look off Isildur's balcony to the hills below. There were countless parties going on in the ridge, each twinkling light another mansion that people rarely spent time in. I couldn't wait to get back to my bed.

"I guess the money isn't enough?" He asks this as if the answer isn't obvious. I scoff, taking another long drag of the cigarette.

"We're all slaves to that here," I say. "Everything costs shit, we all gotta live, we all gotta eat." I hesitate, and for not the first I appreciate Anárion for being a better person than his brother. He simply leans against the railing, looking at me in wait. "But there's something about that fucking trophy. Not everyone can get that. Not everyone can just get up and try really hard and have a little bit of it at the end of the day. Look at L.A. No one fucking lives here because it's cheap. No one lives here because they make money. They're here because they want their name to be known by everyone in this goddamn country. And having that stupid fucking trophy puts you one, two hundred households closer to being as ubiquitous with fame as Marilyn fucking Monroe."

I light another cigarette, not even asking before I pluck it from Anárion's discarded pack on the railing next to him. He just looks at me, head cocked in consideration. For a moment, I wondered if that was the wrong thing to say. For a moment, I wondered if I had unwittingly ruined my chances of working with the plethora of connections Anárion and the entire Voronda family had within the industry. Not that I was winning any favors with Isildur. Until he straightens, snuffing his cigarette out and tossing it over the railing.

"I think you should meet someone."

#haladriel #saurondriel

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mykuup · 1 year

Text

Everything will remain the same

Summary : Tangerine needs to get all of the pressure off after every mission and you're here for it. It always worked like this. But one day you got bored and kinda disgusted so you decide to do something about it. Feelings aren't allowed here... Right ?

wc : 2k

Warning : minor DNI 18+ // graphic smut // angst // not a fix // kinda non con // mention of scars // broken people // unprotected sex (piv) // oral (m receiving) //

A/n : Another fic inspired by a song 🙄. I highly recommand to listend to all the songs of TENDER bc it's just... incredible ! I wrote this fic listening "Erode" on repeat (you may spot some lyrics here and there 👀)

After a month in Japan, and because they almost got killed during the mission, Lemon and Tangerine decided to take a break. They were tired, broken in pieces, haunted by all this blood, all those murders. They needed to rest. Well, Lemon required to rest, and Tangerine had other plans, other needs. Back in their country, Tangerine wastes no time and heads blindly to the club. He knows you will be there. You have to. It always worked like this.

You’re used to seeing him leave and come back to you. Sometimes wounded, sometimes just angry. You don’t really know who he is, what’s his job and you don’t really care. You try to not be worried or affected by this “torture” of waking up alone after a night with him. If you would be honest with yourself, you give him the same torture back as it always worked like this. It has been a month that you haven't seen his face now but you kept living your life like nothing happened. In the end, you’re heartless, used to spend time with fake friends, fake lovers. You can’t get attached to someone, you tried it before and your heart broke into a million pieces, so here you are, heading to that club to try to forget everything again and again.

As you are going upstairs to get to the VIP section, your eyes fall on a familiar face. You can’t believe he’s here after a whole month.

Looking directly at you, Tangerine’s here, sitting at the same damn place every damn time he comes back from only God knows where. His eyes are following you like a hunter tracking his prey. Even tho you’re on the other side of the room, you can feel his feral demeanor. He was drinking champagne by himself, manspreading in his seat and his arm resting on the top of the black velvet sofa. The loud sound of the music was just white noise to your ears and the strobing lights were accentuating his features like a slow-mo movie. Seeing each other, both of you didn’t need to talk or move. You just knew what will happen later that night.

You both were used to it tho. Since you met him at this club, it was like a ritual for both of you. Like a contract you both never signed but yet linked the two of you with an invisible bond that no one really wanted. But you knew it was a fling. You were a fling for him, as he was for you. Well, that’s what you thought but as you’re trying your best not to fall into something deep for him, Tangerine on the other side, stopped fighting against his own feelings a long time ago.

A few hours passed but each of you stayed still at their place. Glancing from time to time in his direction as you’re dancing with strangers, Tangerine doesn’t let his eyes get off of you for a second. But as he sees you leaving the club, he gets up and follows you like a fool under a spell, blinded by a mysterious power. He heard you saying goodbye to your “friends” before he decided to move closer to you. You knew it was him at the smell of his strong cologne and, without checking, you rest the back of your head on his broad torso. His strong arms hug your body as his lips reach the tender skin of your neck.

This was the sign.

This was the manifestation of his call for love and his craving for touch. And you couldn’t resist answering that call. So you followed him to his car and then to the door of his flat. This was like all the other times before. Nothing new under the sun and you started to feel used to it and not in a good way.

Of course, you wanted him, and yes you liked the way he was making you feel. But you couldn’t afford to be in love with him. Not when you only shared bedsheets and spend a few hours from time to time in the middle of the night. You knew almost nothing about him and he didn’t ask you anything either to get to know you…

Tangerine surely felt your hesitation and he stops kissing you as you weren’t responding to his touch.

“Tell me how it is.” he simply says.

Shaking your thought out of your mind, you put your arms behind his neck and move a step closer to him to gently rub your nose against his. Tangerine instantly closes his eyes, breathing in your embrace. You could feel his hands gently roaming on your body as he was craving for you to get even closer. One of your hands got lost in his hair and the other one undo every button of his shirt mechanically.

Tangerine’s boiling inside. Your touch burned him like the biggest wildfire and your scent intoxicated him like the best drug he ever had in his entire life. He wanted you to know how easily you were lighting him on fire at every stroke, every touch, every kiss. Oh, he loved the way you were brushing his skin lightly. He loved the way your tongue was dancing with his, drawing the line of his teeth. Your kiss was deep, well, at least it felt deep for him. You, on the other hand, felt nothing more than a dying spark in your stomach.

But it always worked like this.

Like a machine, your hand touched this specific part of his body, your lips brushing that particular spot that sends shivers down his spine. He understand long ago that you knew every move that brings him closer to the edge. You were so good at giving him pleasure, how could you not feel the same thing he had for you? Tangerine gets out of his mind when he sees you undressing yourself in front of him. He would kill every person on earth for a chance to see you like this every morning until the end of his life. You crawled mindlessly upon him and stopped yourself mid-way to his body. Eyes half-closed, you open your mouth and let your tongue swirl subconsciously around his tip. You could already taste the precum at his head and you rolled your eyes, getting tired of the same old shit. Tangerine sighs heavily and reaches your face to cup your cheek.

That was new.

You stop what you were doing to look at him. You could see something different but couldn’t put a finger on it.

“M’here please” he whispers, almost begging.

Your lips leave his length and your body moves until you are straddling him. As he lays on his bed, Tangerine contemplates you, his hands caressing you gently. His eyes never leave yours and you tried to understand what’s going on in his mind. But as always, he didn’t say anything... Tangerine wasn’t talkative and, at first, you felt blessed because it was easier to not fall for a stranger. But with time, the silence becomes heavy and the heat you felt before was now as cold as ice.

You remember you were in the middle of something when you hear Tangerine grunt.

He couldn’t stop looking at your naked breast that was bouncing above him. Your hair starts to stick to your skin because of the sweat dripping from your body. He let out a cry as you slide on him on repeat, taking him to your deepest spot. He was like a wolf growling as his hands landed on your hips. Tangerine felt like he was an island surrounded by a deep blue sea as your body felt like waves, pushing and pulling against him.

At first, all this ballet was only there to help him release pressure after a mission and only he knew. But the truth is that every time you left him alone right after the blissful moment, his heart started to crack.

His train of thought stopped when your wetness leaves his body. You had enough of the riding session so you decided to go back to your knees, sucking him slow. The sweet feeling of your tongue swirling around his length makes his eyes shut and his head roll back as you give him too much pleasure his body couldn’t even handle.

You help him letting go of everything before starting to get up from the bed. Still half-conscious because of what you just did to him, Tangerine calls out your name, weakly. You turn around as you were already dressing up, raising an eyebrow as you question his sudden call. He sighs before clumsily sitting at the edge of the bed.

“Stay,” he asks, taking your hand in his and looking up at you. Your eyes landed on his hand on yours and then back at his face. “Please,” he adds when he saw the void in your eyes.

“It’s not how it works,” you say dryly, taking off your hand from his. You couldn’t handle any of this anymore. You couldn’t stay with him. This was never an option and tonight proves to you that you had to stop this toxic thing. You were gathering the last item of clothes on the floor when you hear his voice again.

“I love you.”

You froze. Tangerine looks at you, his deep blue eyes hopeless, begging, lost. It was the first time you would see him like that and you suddenly feel something in your stomach. But this wasn’t the heat of a sparkle nor some hidden fire. You felt your gut and the acid taste in your mouth. You sure look confused because Tangerine talked to you again.

“I… I think I’m starting to crack, then you’ll leave and come back and I… I feel like a toyboy under you but if you want me like that, that’s who I’ll be.”

You couldn’t believe what he was saying. As you were trying to contain every feeling you had for him, every thought, you felt his body against you again, his soft voice whispering to your ear.

“If you love me right back, I could be anything.”

You sigh. Your mind was racing behind your eyes, and you would lie to yourself if you didn’t admit you loved the way he was holding you close right now.

But you couldn’t be with a stranger.

You couldn’t live with a man that looked that dangerous. Because even tho you didn’t know anything about him, the scars on his body couldn’t lie. This was the sign of a bright red flag. You weren’t sure if he was some kind of hunter or a very hot henchman but in any case, you couldn’t live this life. Love can be a powerful feeling but also a very dangerous one, maybe even more dangerous than the man that was hugging you tight.

You slowly detached yourself from him and turn around to look at him one last time. You couldn’t start something, already bored like you were this whole night. So your hands land on his cheek and you put a chaste kiss on his lips, his mustache tickling your upper lips. That kiss tasted like a bitter-sweet candy.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper with a broken smile before taking a step back. You reach for your bag and empress yourself to reach the door. “I would have loved you with all my heart if we weren’t who we are” you add without turning back before closing the door behind you.

Still naked, Tangerine fell on his bed, head in his hands. What did he do to have all of this so wrong? He thoughts you both were swaying on the same thin line. But now he realized he was wrong. Was he angry or simply heartbroken? He couldn’t figure it out yet but the thing he was sure about is that he couldn’t blame you for choosing the safest path, even tho it means he will never see you again.

#tangerine x you #tangerine x reader #tangerine bullet train #bullet train fanfic #aaron taylor johnson x reader #aaron taylor johnson #angst #tangerine angst #not a fix it #kinda lover to stranger #song fic #mykuup

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