#said gravel roof is on the floor

[aureachaos]

Mumbo to Iskall: Have you crowd-sourced a base?

Proceeds to make his additions as horrible and inconvenient as possible

[heartfullofleeches]

Maybe a better idea..... Farmer Flemish giant rabbit Yan catches Foxboy reader, but gives reader the choice that if he becomes the yans malewife he can live.

(That was the plan to some extent in the long run, but the chase is fun, no? Regardless, here's a blurb of the two lovebirds)

Male Flemish Rabbit Yan + Foxboy Reader

Warnings: Imprisonment, kidnapping. Reader's pronouns are not mentioned, but they are thought of as male. The term Wife is used.

-

That bastard....

"Let me out! Let. Me. Out!"

Rearing your legs as far back as the tight space would grant, your knees bump into your chest as you kick out. Metal grates dig at your arms with every slight turn and jostle of your body. Dirt and moulted feathers mat your fur, yet there isn't any poultry in sight for you to feast and console yourself upon.

Damn it... You knew it was too good to be true. That farmer was a fool, but a watchful and cautious one at that. He'd never leave the door to his pens open unless he was sick or injured. Maybe part of you had prayed that he was. Wrong as it may be to wish ill on someone making a living for himself, you were just trying to survive too.

"Let me out.... please.." Your voice wavers as the pains of hunger and stress exhaust what little strength you have left. Your balled fists slap pathetically against the metal cages as tears well in your eyes, daring to spill. You won't let them. You won't let him win.

"I said...GET ME OUT OF HERE!"

The gravel outside your wooden prison shifts.

"In due time, Love. We've got a deal to make first."

Dread consumes the emptiness in your stomach, pinning your limbs to the dirt covered floor as he at sinks to his knees. Your knees curl into your chest once more, body and mind subconsciously making yourself smaller as his larger figure draws into view - blocking your sight of the forest beyond his land. Your home. You don't even realize your crying till his fingers brush the wetness from your cheek. You have half a mind to bite them off as they get stuck between the grates.

You snarl- "If you wanted me gone you could've asked..."

The farmer presses a strong hand to his mouth, suppressing a laugh. "If I wanted ya gone, I would'a taken the sheriff's generous offer of a shotgun the last time I had him over. You know how he is about outsiders."

The bite in your stare remains - still, your legs quiver at the mention. "You aren't going to turn me over to him, are you?

He can't. The farmer is lenient towards your crimes, but that man.. That rabbit... He'll have you hanging from the town hall by nightfall.

"Please... I'll...I'll do anything...I'll work off my debt day and night, I-"

"Sweetheart...." The farmer rest a hand on the steel wall of the coop, gently petting its bars as he would your fuzzy little head once you agreed to be his. "It's okay. Nobody's gonna hurt you or make you do any hard labor."

"Then-" Your cracked tongue wets your splitting lips. "What do you want from me?"

The farmer cranes his head, meeting you eye to eye. The bags beneath his eyes seemed heavier than usual. How long had been out here waiting for you to return?"

"Cute little fox like yourself shouldn't be out here scrounging around for scraps or the occasional unattended hen. You should have a roof over your head, a comfy bed, all the food you could ever want."

What's he going on about? Another trap?... "If I'm not going to work for it... How does this deal benefit you?"

"I want you to be my wife."

"Wha?!- Ouch!-" Your head shoots up, ramming into the low hanging support beams. "Are you crazy?"

The farmer lets a chuckle slip. "Heh, I'd have to have lost my mind not falling for ya. Think about it this way, Sweetheart. You come home with me and I fill that belly of yours full of food. Or I call up the sheriff and he fills it with lead. Your choice."

Your howling stomach betrays any fight you have remaining. You don't have many options in this scenario. Push come to shove, you could possibly make your escape in the dead of night when he least expects it - taking as many of his hens as your arms could carry.

"Okay... I'll.. be your wife."

"Smart fox." The farmer stands - rounding the corner to the front of the henhouse. He lifts the wooden board that had fallen into place as you crawling inside hours ago. Your legs are too cramped and spent from all that kicking to fight him as he pulls you out by your tail and into his well built arms. The farmer presses his nose to your face, nuzzling your cheek as he walks off towards his home - carrying you bridal style.

"Welcome home, Hun."

[the-californicationist]

Guile & Guilt (Ch. 11) -- Epilogue

Hello again! This epilogue was written using prompts 8, 12, 14, 20, and 29 of @glitterypirateduck 's January challenge! Hope y'all like it!

“There you are, thief. I've been lookin’ for you,” Johnny spoke quietly as he snuck underneath the crossbars that very obviously said “Keep Out!”, displayed in bright red across the gate. 

You smiled at him as he made his way through the castle’s ruins, his boots crunching on the gravel and stone, ducking through the ancient archways like an overgrown warrior, home from the front. He was wearing a tee shirt and his hunting kilt, dressed for the warm night air. 

You imagined what it might have been like back then to see him coming through your castle toward your hugs and your kisses if you were his lady of this sprawling manor house. 

If he was your highland laird, he’d pass by a glowing hearth, the orange fire shining in his eyes, casting long shadows over him. He’d be in a tartan, much like he was now, but perhaps in a shirt with more frills on the collar and sleeves, the expensive stitching reflecting his high status. He’d be in brogues, not boots, allowing him to step silently through the heath and the heather, hunting Englishmen in the night. Your servants would take his deerskin bag from his shoulder, and they’d offer him a clean handkerchief to wipe the journey’s filth from his brow. 

He climbed the stairs of your tower, a knight after his very own princess, meaning to rescue or to ravish, and you couldn’t help but be excited for either. 

“I cannae remember the last time I did this,” Johnny laughed softly, stooping through the refurbished wooden doorway to join you in the circular tower room. It was a small space, and the roof was missing. There were two wooden stools (made to look ancient) and a truly historic hearth, black from centuries of soot. There was a small sign plate pinned to the wall of an artist’s rendition of what the room may have looked like when it was new. They’d made it a bedroom, complete with a sleeping dog on the rug. It was only stone and a wooden floor now, save for the two small chairs. 

Johnny sat in the open one next to you, and you stared out of the window together, surveying your sprawling grounds. A family of rabbits chased each other in a small grove beyond, oblivious to any danger, leaping over each other in the dark under the quilt of stars. You watched their brown, furry forms, hop and jump, running to and fro through the grass, making it whisper as it ruffled against their fur. 

You felt his enormous hand cover yours, his thumb lingering on the shining ring you wore on your left hand, the one he had given you so many months ago. 

“I cannae believe I'm going to marry you, mo mèirleach,” your hulking soldier sighed, kissing your ring and the fingers that held it. 

He turned your hand over to kiss your palm, letting his tongue dart out to lick the spaces he was about to kiss, leaving cool little wet spots on your skin. You grabbed his chin in your hand, catching his attention, and brought his mouth up to yours, making him kiss your lips, letting him suck on your tongue and fill your cheeks with his own, plundering into you, licking you like warm cream. 

You broke away from his kiss with a sigh, resting your face against his, relaxing into his hands as he held you close, clutching you tightly in the small, drafty room. 

“Johnny…” you whispered, warning him and begging him at the same time. 

“Don’t tempt me, lass. I’ll have you right here in this bloody tower if you start makin’ me hungry for you. Sayin’ my name like that…” He whispered to you, rocking his forehead back and forth, nuzzling his face into your neck, letting his breath warm your skin. 

“Maybe we could be very quiet,” you whispered back, giving him a mischievous smile, kissing his cheek reverently. 

“What a naughty wee hen you are. Was this your plan the entire time?” He asked you, shaking his head and grinning like a wolf. 

“Could be…” you laughed, leaning your body into his mouth as he trailed hungry lips down your neck and collarbone, peeling the shoulders of your tank top down your arms, leaving kisses where the fabric lay. 

He stood and lifted you with him, hoisting you up to sit on the wide stone window sill, its panes long gone. His hands dug under the hem of your skirt and followed your thigh up to your warmth, nestled between them, wet and waiting for his appraisal. When his fingers discovered you, he broke his kiss, sighing directly into your mouth with a heavy need. 

Slowly, almost maddeningly so, Johnny sank a long, thick finger into your hole, groaning as he felt how deeply your pleasure had soaked your skin. He began to rub himself, a little absentmindedly, against your calf as he hiked up your skirt a bit more, and you could feel his hard length tenting his kilt, pressing through the pleats. 

“Give me your cock, mo chridhe,” you commanded, darkening your voice and pulling down your tank top to your waist, letting him see your breasts on full display. 

“Want me tha’ bad, hm, bonnie?” He smiled rakishly, teasing you desperate, fucking you languidly with just the one finger, pulling himself out and pressing himself back in without any urgency. 

“Please, John–” you were interrupted by the sound of tires on the gravel near the castle’s entrance. 

Johnny released you, and you bent down together to peer out of the window. You waited, holding your breath, trying to stay out of sight. There was a white sedan making a u-turn in the parking lot, and only after it turned to go back down the hill did you let out a sigh of relief.

“Oh, shit,” you laughed, sitting on the floor of the tower room, staring up into the stars in disbelief. 

“You’re the one who wanted to sneak into a wee castle and tease your man half to death. I cannae barely walk with this…” 

You looked over at him as he sat across from you, and you saw that he had pulled his kilt up to his hip to palm his cock underneath it. He was achingly stiff, and you could see the tip shining, leaking under the moonlight. 

“My poor darling,” you cooed at him, a little sarcastically, taunting him by playing with your breasts as you knelt in front of him, “You need me, hm? Should I put you inside?”

You straddled his lap and he fell backward, laying beneath you and letting you ride him however you saw fit. That smart mouth didn’t have anymore comments now. 

You hovered, stroking him with your hand, and he humped himself up into your grip, shamelessly. Smiling down at him, you decided to tease him just as he had done to you on the window sill. You fixed his head at your entrance and sank down just enough to let it pop in and out, not going down any further than that.  

His face contorted into a furious mess of longing and desire, his brow furrowing as he begged,

“C’mon, thief… just a little more. I dinnae think I’ll last much longer if you torture me like this… please…”

“Better be good, Johnny,” you sank down a little further, “Only good boys get rewards.”

He groaned, squeezing your thighs and turning his head away from you, wrenching his eyes shut, trying to keep himself from coming too soon,

“This already feels like a reward, mèirleach.”

“Stay with me, Johnny,” you coaxed him, “Be patient.”

“Fuck…” his eyes rolled white like a shark as he felt you purposefully bear down around him, settling down onto his cock and keeping him in you as deep as he would fit, resting there and feeling him pulse his muscles right back. 

You started to rock back and forth along his length, feeling him slipping in and out of your folds, long enough to penetrate you deeply, using his head to grind against your swollen spot just inside of your walls. You arched your back, staring up at the stars with him, bare to the night sky and all of its glittering constellations. 

Johnny’s hands moved up and held your breasts, plucking at your nipples and making you moan.

“Tha’s it, bonnie. You fuck me so damn good. Cannae believe it.”

He whined as you picked up your pace, holding you around your waist and helping you grind back and forth. 

“Yes, yes, yes,” he hissed through gritted teeth, “Come on me, mèirleach. I wanna feel you.”

“Johnny… fuck, I just… I can’t…”

“You can, lass. I’m so close. Ah… I cannae breathe. You’re gonna make me come in you… so fuckin’ deep.”

You made a noise that caught in your breath as the shimmering crescendo of your orgasm washed over all of your senses, making your head spin with pleasure. You felt yourself go soft over his cock, relaxing into his steep curve, letting him sink even deeper than what you thought your body would allow. 

He felt your core give way, losing its tension, letting him sink further inside, and as he watched you come down from your high, he began to thrust himself into you from below. Johnny held you tightly to his chest, crushing you to him, and he fucked you with powerful, quick bursts, your bodies making pornographic slapping sounds in the deserted castle ruins. 

You heard him coming apart in your ear, and you suddenly felt the urge to kiss him as he whined for you. You slotted your mouth over his, and when you did, it was as if you had given him permission to scream. He cried out into your mouth as he kissed you, letting his screams of pleasure and joy be muffled by your lips and tongue. 

As he came in you, he called out your name, talking to you in your mouth, telling you what a good girl you were, claiming you as his, and only his. His woman. His thief. 

Reblogs and comments deeply appreciated!

AO3 Link

[zabo-writes]

Hanging Around (Scar + Grian)

Grian gets spooked and his avian tendencies make him stress grip the ceiling of the Barge. Scar encounters him in this awkward predicament.

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

Grian was in a bit of a pickle.

His day had been fairly normal:

He mined ten full shulker boxes of sand and gravel to restock at the Barge. 

He avoided the back of his base like a plague. 

He fed Mumbo’s weird sentient base… all very normal, non stressful activities.

Inside the Barge, as Grian was opening the chests to collect his diamonds, he suddenly slipped and set off a firework rocket. It made a loud BANG sound, and left lots of pretty purple paper bits all over the floor that were going to be a pain to get out later. It had been mostly harmless really, only a tick or two of damage, but on instinct Grian jumped and grabbed onto the campfire-thatched ceiling of his upper floor for dear life.

This would not have been a problem, were it not for the fact that his talons had caught the wood in a stress grip, and now he couldn’t let go.

Grian was stuck on the ceiling.

He sighed. It wasn’t often that his avian behaviors interfered with his day to day, but boy did they choose the most awkward times! Grian stretched his wings in annoyance.

Okay! Let's assess the damage: 

His entire left foot’s talons were wrapped securely around the campfire wood on the roof of the barge. He had no control over the vice-like grip strength that his talons held in these situations. Depending on the level of stress that induced it, this could keep him stuck for anywhere from minutes to hours. 

His right hand had grasped a fence post on the wall to stable himself in his fright. That grip was less… grippy? His knuckles were still white with tension, but in his experience he was usually able to gain control over his hand far more quickly. Grian wasn’t really sure why, maybe it was because his feet were more bird-like, and his hands were less so? He wasn’t going to question it.

Right foot, left hand, and both wings free to flail idly while he waited. And bump awkwardly into all his chests.

With a bit of focus and begrudgingly calm breathing, Grian managed to dislodge his other hand. Great! Now he could hang upside down like a bat while he waited for his foot to be less grippy. Nothing to see here, just an average day at the Barge, doing his stretches… 

Grian really hoped no one came in to see him like this.

But it seemed luck was not in his favor today, as he began to hear singing in the distance growing slowly louder as someone approached. And singing generally only meant the arrival of one person in particular.

“Why, hello there! What are you up to on this fine afternoon Grian? Hanging around?”

Grian leveled Scar with his most unimpressed expression, though the effect was slightly diminished by his predicament. Scar shamelessly eyed the avian down and up, undeterred.

Growing a little self conscious of his jumper slipping and showing his stomach, Grian adjusted his arms so he was leaning extremely casually against the wall. Very casual and also comfortable. He hoped Scar left soon because he could not keep this up for long.

“Hello Scar. I’m doing quite well actually! Just doing my daily stretches.”

Scar nodded sagely, “Ohh I see! Always good to stay fit, that’s good, keep the muscles strong.” 

“Yes, precisely! So, did you need something?”

“Hmm, I actually came by looking for some lanterns, but I think I’ll do some leisurely shopping around the Barge! I’m sure you don’t mind, do you, Grian?”

Grian did mind, actually! He minded very much, Scar! Grian cursed his bird luck under his breath, but gritted out “Don’t you have some mayoral duties to attend to? More evil lasers to build?”

“It’s not evil! It has solar panels,” Scar said as he brought himself face to face with the hanging avian, placing his hands on the sides of Grian’s shoulders, “And besides. I’m much more intrigued on what’s going on with you. I think you’re lying, pesky bird.”

Grian felt his face grow hot. He tried to shift away, to no avail.

“Scar…”

“C’mon! You can tell me, what's up?”

“..... I’m a bit stuck.”

“Really?!” Scar gasped, “Stuck in your own shop? If this isn’t Grian-safe, it surely isn’t Scar safe… I may need to write you a citation!”

“No, no, it's like a bird thing. I got spooked by a rocket and then I stress-gripped the ceiling.”

Scar’s face lit up in a way that usually did not mean good things for Grian.

“Oh, I can help you calm down! Hold on right there Grian, I’ve got just the wizard crystal for this occasion…”

“I really don’t think that's needed here,” Grian protested as Scar rifled through his enderchest, coming out triumphantly with a pink piece of glass. 

“Here we go! A one of a kind calming crystal just for you! Oh, and I can go get Jellie for you as well, she’s very calm…”

In the midst of Scar’s rambling, Grian felt his talons release from the ceiling. He tumbled gracelessly to the floor, taking out Scar in the process and landing them both in a tangled heap on the ground.

“You deserved that,” said Grian fondly, making no move to get off of Scar.

Scar looked up at him with a smile, “Another satisfied customer! Can I interest you in a bulk deal?”

[milf-harrington]

For the made-up fic title prompt:

"Just another normal doomsday"

♡

Just Another Normal Doomsday

Hawkins, 1987.

"I'm just saying, punk rock gay sex is different to hippy gay sex."

"How?"

Robin shrugged, stirring her straw through her milkshake before lifting the whole cup to her mouth to drink it. "It's sexier."

She was sitting with her legs crossed underneath her, back leaning against the bus window so she could face where he was sitting across the aisle. The bus was pleasantly dim, but watery sunlight streamed through a gap on her side and bathed her face in blue shadows while her hair lit up with bronze at the ends.

Steve snorted, leaning sideways with one leg stretched over the aisle, muddy sneaker propped up on the edge of Robin's bench. A cardboard tray filled with chips was nestled in his lap, the corners darkened with grease and grainy with salt.

"You're just saying that because your parents are hippies."

From Steve's backpack, their walkie (one they shared, with masking tape scribbled over in colourful markers stuck to the back, their names written in each others handwriting) crackled to life, codes carried out in a cloud of static that made them both sigh in unison.

Robin burped, dropping her empty milkshake cup back into the bag their food had come in. "No," She protested, milk lining her upper lip before she wiped it away. "I'm saying it because it's true."

"They're both gay!"

"But being punk rock is gayer!"

He flicked a chip crumb at her when she reached for her bag, watching it dodge her flailing attempts at a block and get stuck in her hair. "I'm telling Eddie you called him gay."

She blinked at him, face scrunched up in the same expression she used to give him whenever he opened his mouth at Scoops. "Eddie is gay, and I'm telling him that you called him punk rock-"

Something outside shrieked, high and rattling like broken glass against a sheet of metal. They shared a look like the ones they used to share at Family Video, when customers were being unreasonable and they couldn't say anything about it or they'd get fired.

Steve leaned down to grab his bat from the floor, wiping the grease off of his hands onto his jeans as Robin stood and stretched. There was still a deep purple bruise tucked into the inner corner of her eye from a demo-bat attack on patrol a few days ago, and Steve felt the matching one on his shoulder twinge when he hauled the nail-bat over it.

"He won't do anything," He told her, stepping in front to take the lead as they moved towards the front of the bus. The windows were still sloppily boarded up from a night that felt like a hundred years ago, just Steve and a bunch of kids who were in over their head. "I call him punk all the time, I think he's grown immune to it."

They stopped at the door, Robin squeezing past to stand on the other side, where the controls were. They stayed quiet, peering through the dirty glass to get a grasp of the how many and where. Dustin's code said three, but they'd been wrong before.

"Yeah, but if he hears you've been spreading that around?" Robin whispered, reaching behind her to wrap bandaged fingers around the lever. She whistled low, mostly breath, and Steve rolled his eyes. "You won't have to worry about demodogs, is all I'm saying."

"Yeah, yeah." He muttered, tightening his grip on the bat as the door shuttered open and a gust of warm air hit his face.

He crept outside, second-hand work boots crunching lightly on the gravel as he listened to Robin hurry up the ladder to the roof. She was going to yell directions and throw molotov cocktails while he did the actual hard shit. Technically the lookout part was supposed to be Eddie's job, and Robin was meant to be at Steve's back with her axe, but apparently they were at a crucial stage of the campaign and he "couldn't miss it".

Part of Steve hoped he'd get eaten, if only to get his boyfriend to reorganise his priorities a bit.

A half hour later, Steve leaned against the side of the bus, sweaty and panting while Robin offered him her water-bottle. She reeked of cheap alcohol and the sharp smell of burning, glittering shards of glass caught in her fringe. Gore dripped from the nails in his bat, and one of the dogs had gotten a good swipe at his shin, but he remained mostly un-grievously-injured. He still hurt everywhere though, body complaining about all the diving over and around and behind random bits of junk and machinery.

"Metal gay sex is probably gayer than punk rock gay sex." He decided, and Robin hummed thoughtfully.

"You'd know."

He shrugged, tilting his head with an ehh. "I've never slept with a punk so I can't be sure, but you've met Eddie."

"I have indeed. Speaking of- are we having dinner at Wayne's tonight?"

Steve groaned - not in complaint, it's just that his everything hurt and he'd forgotten about their dinner plans - and ran a hand through his hair. It was greasy and damp with sweat and monster blood. Overhead, a flock of demobats shrieked and weaved among each other, not bothering with the two of them as they headed off towards the quarry.

"Yeah, I said we'd pick up mince for that chuck-in he makes, but that was before the butcher got eaten this morning and I don't think Melvald's is open today."

Robin sighed, scooping up her bag and shrugging it over her shoulder. She held out a hand, fingers spread and wiggling expectantly, and he grinned as he clasped their hands together.

The headed off towards the tracks, a short-cut to the trailer park, and swung their hands back and forth between them.

"I could make that pasta my mum taught me?" Robin offered. "Pretty sure the Munson's will have all of that."

He groaned, this time in delight, and swung their hands a bit higher like a kid on the swings excited to touch the clouds. "God yes, please."

[ell0ra-br3kk3r-writes]

The Phoenix and the Crow

part thirty-one

pairing: kaz brekker x fem!reader

genre: neutral with a angsty underlining

el's thoughts: i'm back to writing again! hope yall like itttt

masterlist

“Thank the Saints, Djel, and your Aunt Eva,” Jesper said gratefully and slid down the rope, followed by the others.

The roof of the embassy was curved, probably to keep the snow off, but it was a bit like walking on the humped back of an enormous whale. It was also decidedly more… porous than the prison roof. It was pocked with multiple points of entry—vents, chimneys, and small glass domes designed to let light in. Nina and Inej were tucked up against the base of the biggest dome, a filigree skylight from the dwindling rain, but should any of the guards on the ring wall turn their attention away from the approach road and onto the rooftops of the Court, the crew would be hidden from view.

Nina had Inej’s feet in her lap.

“I can’t get all the rubber off her heels,” she said, as she saw them approaching.

“Help her,” said Kaz.

“Right,” Jesper said as he crawled over to get a better look at Inej’s blistered feet. “Saints,” he muttered.

Inej grimaced. “That bad?”

“No, you just have really ugly feet.”

“Ugly feet that got you on this roof.”

“But are we stuck?” Y/N asked. The Elderclock ceased its ringing, and in the silence that followed, she shut her eyes in relief. “Finally.”

“What happened at the prison?” Wylan said, that panicked crackle back in his voice. Jesper gave him a quick reassuring glance. “What triggered the alarm?”

“I ran into two guards,” said Nina.

Jesper looked up from his work again. “You didn’t put them down?”

“I did. But one of them got off a few shots. Another guard came running. That was when the bells started.”

“Damn. So that’s what set off the alarm?”

“Maybe,” said Nina. “Where were you, Kaz? I wouldn’t have been in the stairwell if I hadn’t wasted time looking for you. Why didn’t you meet me on the landing?”

Kaz was peering down through the glass of the dome. “I decided to search the cells on the fifth floor, too.”

They all stared at him. Y/N felt frustration bubbling up in her chest.

“What the hell is this?” Jesper said. “You take off before Matthias and I got back, then decide to expand your search and leave Nina thinking you’re in trouble?”

“There was something I needed to take care of.”

“Not good enough.”

“I had a hunch,” Kaz said. “I followed it.”

Y/N’s expression was pure disbelief. “A hunch?”

“I made a mistake,” growled Kaz. “All right?”

“No,” she fired back. “You owe us an explanation.”

After a moment, Kaz said, “I went looking for Pekka Rollins.” A look passed between Kaz and Y/N. Everyone else shared a look as Kaz cleared his throat. “I screwed up. I made a bad call, and I deserve the blame for it. But that doesn’t change our situation.”

“What is our situation?” Nina asked Matthias. “What will they do now?”

“The alarm was Yellow Protocol, a sector disturbance.”

Jesper pushed at his temples. “I don’t even remember what that means.”

“My guess is that they think someone’s attempting a prison break. That sector is already sealed off from the rest of the Ice Court, so they’ll authorize a search, probably try to figure out who’s mission from the cells.”

“They’ll find the people we knocked out in the women’s and men’s holding areas,” said Wylan. “we need to get out of here. Forget Bo Yul-Batur.”

Y/N waved a dismissive hand through the air. “It’s too late. If the guards think there is a prison break in progress, the checkpoints will be on high alert. Right?” she looked to Matthias in a quick question. “They’re not going to let anyone just walk through.”

“We could still try,” said Jesper. “We get Inej’s feet patched up-”

She flexed them, then stood, testing her bare soles on the gravel. “They feel all right. My calluses are gone, though.”

“I’ll give you an address where you can mail your complaints,” Nina said with a wink.

“Okay, the Wraith is ambulatory,” Jesper said, rubbing a sleeve over his damp face. The rain had faded away to a light mist. “We find a cozy room to bash some partygoers on the head and waltz out of this place decked in their finest.”

“Past the embassy gate and two checkpoints?” Matthias said skeptically.

“They don’t know anyone escaped the prison sector. They saw Nina and Kaz so they know people are out of their cells, but the guards at the checkpoints are going to be looking for hoodlums in prison clothes…” Jesper’s voice faded to a buzz in Y/N’s ears.

She came on an assignment. A world-changing substance was out here somewhere and if it were to get into the wrong hands, it could reach and poison all Grisha. She had a duty to her people and fellow brothers and sisters. If she were to get caught then she would be caught trying to finish the mission. If she were to die then she would die on her feet as a Ravkan soldier.

“Forget it,” she said. “I came here to find Bo Yul-Bayur, and I’m not leaving without him.”“What’s the point?” said Wylan as he watched the Inferni with concern. “Even if you manage to get to the White Island and find Yul-Bayur, we’ll have no way out. Jesper’s right: We should go now while we still have a chance.”

“You are more than welcome to leave if you see it best. I came here with an assignment and I intend to see it through, even if it means I have to cross to the White Island alone. I will.”

“That may not be an option,” said Matthias causing her to turn her sharp gaze in his direction. “Look.”

They gathered around the base of the glass dome. The rotunda below was a mass of people, drinking, laughing, greeting each other, a kind of raucous party before the celebrations on the White Island.

As they watched, a group of new guards pushed into the room, trying to form the crowd into lines.

“They’re adding another checkpoint,” Matthias said. “They’re going to review everyone’s identification again before they allow people access to the glass bridge.”

“Because of Yellow Protocol?” asked Jesper.

“Probably. A precaution.”

It was like seeing the last bit of their luck drain from a glass.

“Then that decides it,” said Jesper. “We cut our losses and try to get out now.”

“I know a way,” Inej said quietly. They all turned to look at her. The yellow light from the dome pooled in her dark eyes. “We can get through that checkpoint and onto the White Island.” She pointed below to where two groups of people had entered the rotunda from the gatehouse courtyard and were shaking the mist from their clothes. The girls from the House of the Blue Iris were easily identified by the color of their gowns and the flowers displayed in their hair and at their necklines. There was another pleasure house that took Y/N a moment to recognize. It was a house located in Shu Han that Y/N had business with years back.

“I have a friend whom I met briefly while traveling with Sturmhond. She could help us get inside.”

“Inej-” Kaz started.

The Suli quickly interrupted him. “I can get two of us in for sure.”

The guys shared a silent look of hesitation while the girls wordlessly discussed who would go.

Nina spoke up, “I’ll go with Inej.”

Matthias had opened his mouth to argue but Y/N cut him off. “That’d be the smartest choice, a Heartrender would be a better fit than an Inferni. It’s likely you both would need a bit of tailoring as well…” She trailed off as she continued to observe the swarm of people below.

Inej nodded, “Then it’s settled. We go in with the pleasure houses.”

~*~

taglist: @katherinereid @littlecat21 @jahayla-parker @maliciousbrekker @brekkershadowsinger @brekkers-desigirl @clunaes @wonderland2425 @bookloverfilmoholic @karensirkobabes @bookworm-center @el-de-phi @so-get-this-sammy @skittleabyss @crispy-croke @cometsghost @auttumnsayshi

[pandoa]

a cat and his henchman: a grim tale

in which grim awakes to find himself surrounded by blue flames and the burned ruins of night raven college. not to worry, though! his henchman is there to save them from this predicament! but, where was his henchman to begin with?

~grim x platonic!gender neutral reader~ ~word count: 1418~

warnings: angst, mentions of blood and death note: this is based off the twst theory that grim will eventually overblot and mc will be forced to fight the cat-like beast. thank you~

“(Y/n)!” Ace’s voice rang in the flaming room, catching a certain prefect’s attention.

“What in Twisted Wonderland are you doing?!”

The prefect turned to face their two friends, Ace and Deuce, with a petrified but unwavering look present in their eyes. Grim was out of control and if Crowley refused to help them for the thousandth time, someone had to stop him. 

Even a mere human with no magical abilities such as themselves would have to do.

“I’m saving Grim!” (Y/n) replied back.

The Adeuce duo glanced at one another, concern for their friend clearly shown in their facial expressions.

“Saving him?! (Y/n) you’re insane if you think you can stop this!” 

Deuce added on to Ace’s chiding, his tone a bit softer as he gazed at the prefect, “(Y/n), there’s a big chance you won’t survive. . .”

The prefect sighed, sorrow woven in the next words they said.

“Then I suppose I’m taking that risk. For Grim.” Screeching roars that could destroy one’s hearing enveloped the mirror chambers as the magicless freshman faced their beloved cat companion and friend.

Whatever happened next was fair game, and the prefect was determined to bring Grim back. Even if the price was their own mortal life.

.

.

.

.

.

Huh?

Wha..what’s going on?

Rising up from a strange pile of gravel, Grim lifted his throbbing head to see scorching flames of blue scattered across what he assumed to be NRC’s mirror chambers. Blazing fire threatened his fur-covered body as he peered at the unusual, deathly flames.

These look familiar. . .

Meh, probably nothing, the fish-loving cat voiced in his mind as he began to carefully roam around the premises, investigating each charred remains of the disintegrating building. What exactly happened here to make the school look like a tuna slice burnt on a stick, he did not know. And frankly, he did not think he wished to know with the college’s track record of overblot incidents and deranged teenagers, honestly. Crowley should really do a better job on keeping track of these students’ mental health. One day some crazy strong kid could end up destroying the whole school if they’re not careful! Grim shook his head in shame at the saddening thought. 

Nah, no way that would happen. (Y/n) could definitely beat that brat to shame with their little therapy sessions, haha! Brushing off his daunting imagination, Grim lazily rounded a corner in search of an exit only to yet again encounter-

More sapphire tinted flames. Okay, now this was just getting annoying. The small beast sighed in frustration as he mindlessly turned around, grumbling about his rumbling stomach as if anyone was there to listen to his incessant whines. Walking past the fallen pieces of gravel, numerous glass shards, and other items he couldn’t even make out if he tried, Grim made sure to keep his soft tail from being consumed by the dancing fires spread out on the jagged floors. 

To say he was lost was an understatement.

Nothing in this stupid college looked the same. Chandeliers were shattered, roofs were missing, walls were crumbling, eerie smoke filled the air he breathed, and traces of black ink seeped into the carpet. Really, all Grim wished to see was a plump bed waiting for his arrival since he felt unusually exhausted, as if he had just fought in a never-ending war with the most powerful of mages. Maybe I just need an extra lengthy cat nap, Grim pondered whilst releasing a loud yawn into the echoing chamber. I’ll just find the exit and then-

Eh?

A small glimpse of your (h/c) locks sprawled along the ground was enough for the feline to immediately dash towards your side, relief evident on his furry face. Thank the Seven he found you! He would have been stranded had he not spotted you (not that he would admit that to his minion of course) so seeing you sparked a joy that could rival free premium tuna served to him straight from the can! Ah, Grim drooled at his predictable cravings. Simply delectable. 

Snapping out of his trance, Grim soon reached your familiar frame, hollering out to catch your attention. 

“Hey! Henchman!,” he shouted, “Quit screwing around so we can go back to Ramshackle! I’m starving here!”

Grim halted mid-step, confusion racing in and out his mind upon noticing the sight before him.

Huh?

“Henchman, why are you on the ground? Has Leona’s sorry habit of napping in random places gotten to you?”

Cautiously, the small beast took slow, careful steps closer to your resting body. What was all that gunk on you? Sweat, black ink he knew certainly hadn't come from you, and. . . red liquid? Feeling his heart rate suddenly drop, Grim peered down to your disheveled NRC uniform. It had been entirely covered with the scarlet substance. 

What-

What are those marks on your skin?

Was this another failure of one of Ace and Deuce’s alchemy experiments?

Grim, impatiently, began poking at your side.

“Why won’t you answer me, Henchman?”

Growing irritated at your current predicament, the cat wasted no time in proceeding to vigorously shake you, in hopes that you would finally gain consciousness. What’s gotten into you?! The henchman he knew wouldn’t laze around like this! This has gotta be one of Ace’s pranks, right?! Right?! New, raging fear surged throughout the feline’s petite stature.

“Open your eyes!”

“The Great Grim is in your presence for Seven’s sake!” Grim exclaimed, tossing his hands in the air to emphasize his statement.

“C’mon! You can tell me why the whole building is burned down while we walk back home to Ramshackle! I’m sure it’s an amusing tale, hehe.”

Grim chuckled at his antics. Surely there was some sort of explanation regarding the ruined state of Night Raven College, right? All that was left to do was to wake you up from your rather deep slumber and both you and him could be on your merry way out of the burning building. Grim reached out for your oddly pale hand, only to retract his grip almost in an instant, however, feeling a chilling shiver run down his torso the moment his paw touched your limp arm.

Cold.

Your body, despite laying down beside a nearby fire, was cold. 

“Henchman. . .?”

“Hey, I’m not joking anymore, this isn’t funny!”

Grim’s senses sharpened. Something definitely was not right.

“Henchman!”

“Henchman get up!”

Furry paws grasped your shoulders with a frightening grip as he shook you even more, panic striking his trembling voice.

“(Y/N)!!!!!”

Then, in what seemed like a flash, visions of a terrible beast raising havoc among the NRC students and teachers alike invaded his memories with a resounding throb to his head. Was that him? Was all this his doing? More memories played through his mind as if his own conscience was taunting him. Dark magic soared across the mirror chambers, students filed out of the chaos, he exerted black, oozing blot, and you. 

You.

You appeared, terrified and fumbling over your own feet, attempting to reach wherever he was in his unhinged state while gripping a gruesome wound to your side. Blasts of his blue fire were aimed at you, taking you down with each blow. You were dying.

No, no, no!

Make it stop, make it stop, make it stop!

Unwanted memories continued to play in the feline’s head. What was real? What was fake? Grim’s very grasp of reality dissipated into nothingness as he paid no more mind to his surroundings. There’s no way he could have done this! No way!

Grim began to lose sight of whatever logical thinking he had left. Where was he? Why wouldn’t you stand up? What day was it? Where were Ace and Deuce? The small beast felt trickles of water droplets fall from his eye to his cheek. Was it raining? Why did it feel so odd to smile past his pain?

From the corner of his peripheral vision, Grim could recognize a shining black stone that could only be the result of a devastating overblot. Rage boiled within him. Piercing screeches were heard miles away as he broke down with disbelief. 

Stop fooling around already!

Grim collapsed to his exhausted knees, paying no mind to the way the deathly liquid dripping from your stomach slightly stained his gray fur.

(Y/n). . .

The cat clutched the prefect’s torn sleeve, filling the air with a final cry, similar to the wails of a lost child on the street.

“Come home with me. . .”

“Please. .”

a/n: i love angst

[thefanficmonster]

One hell of a love story

Steve Brodt x Reader (Female)

Warnings: Swearing, Mentioned Trespassing, Referenced Paranormal Investifations

Genre: FLUFF, RPF (Real Person Fic)

Summary: What modern love story doesn't feature a bit of crime and paranormal activity?

When two posts broke the color monotony of Steve's Instagram everyone - except Dylan, of course - was rather surprised. Not so much the sudden pop of color, but rather the content of the images.

The photos being of a beachside sunset featuring a lovey-dovey couple.

What those pictures don't reveal is the long, long story behind them, behind the relationship they display. They show the progression, but not the roots....and the tiny criminal activity they include.

So, allow me to tell you the story, for the purpose of which I will take you back to five years ago. Back before Haunted Nights was officially up and running.

A solo urban explorer and a solo paranormal investigator.

Steve knew it was a bad idea going to this warehouse when he it first came to his attention. Although it was visually in an abandoned state, it was still privately owned and under surveillance. So, despite being very used to jumping the occasional gate or fence to get into places, this one specific instance was a rather clear case of trespassing waiting to happen.

And it wouldn't have been at all like Steve to keep it waiting.

With a backpack loaded with some cheap ghost hunting equipment over his shoulder, he made his way to the warehouse, a mask covering his nose and mouth. He did a great job keeping himself incognito and below the radar as he watched each and every step he took, leaves and branches cracking beneath his feet on a few inevitable instances.

He was well aware of the risk he was taking. But it was a temptation he couldn't refuse. He'd been hearing ghost stories stemming from this very place ever since he moved to the town. He just had to live one of those said stories himself to believe it.

Little did he know he'd live a whole different genre of a story.

Three floors and an underground storage unit and nothing. Nothing concrete anyway. No activity with the motion detectors, unrelated words coming in through the Ovilus and no physical activity. Whatever energy may have been stuck between those walls wasn't intelligent or just wasn't in the mood to talk. So, to prevent his trip and taken risks to be in vain, Steve resorted to taking some pictures of the place and the surrounding area.

As creepy as it looked, it was still a beautiful location to capture a few shots of with the underlying agenda of maybe possibly catching something in the photos he couldn't spot with his naked eye.

He'd eventually figured out a way to climb up to the roof which was a pretty bad idea for several reasons. For one, that roof didn't look anywhere near safe to withstand the weight of a human, not to mention he wasn't particularly sure on how he'd get down without injury but hell, he decided he'd cross that bridge when he'd get to it.

And last, and potentially most, was the danger of being spotted by the aforementioned surveillance.

To Steve's utter dismay, that last one was the one that got him in the end.

He'd taken a seat on one of the more solid looking panels to look through the footage he'd captured when he heard the unmistakable sound of car tires over leaves and gravel. All color immediately drained from his face.

Scurrying as quietly as he could up to his feet and over to the opening he'd climbed up through, he found himself forgetting all his previous concerns regarding getting down unscathed. His decade long experience going into abandoned places came in real handy when he managed to land on his feet rather steadily from such a high drop.

He was in the middle of debating whether to make a run for it or hide until the coast was clear when he heard hurried footsteps approaching, giving him no time to pick either option before a figure rounded the corner and startled the ever-loving daylights out of him.

Except, it wasn't a cop. Something he immediately picked up on from the attire - which included a face mask much like his own and a pair of fingerless gloves - and backpack.

Steve knows an urban explorer when he sees one and this girl fit all the criteria.

He was quick to press his finger up to his lips, sliding his mask under his chin to be able to mouth "Cops" to her, eliciting a nod in response.

"We need to hide." She whispers, clearly having taken in his appearance and deemed him one of her own instead a threat she should be mindful of along with the cops that just pulled up to the site.

Fleeting was no longer an option when they heard the boom of someone's voice echoing off the walls in a shout, provoking the trespassers to show themselves.

Although his newfound companion was frozen like a deer in headlights, giving him a look of terror, Steve was luckily thinking on his feet.

With barely a couple seconds to spare, he grabbed the girl's hand, hoping to God it wouldn't earn him a slap, and whispered a quick, "Let's go..." as he tilted his head in the direction of a long hallway leading to the underground unit entrance.

He gave her a second to agree, which she thankfully did with a very accentuated nod, before the two took off down the hall, cringing at the loud thumping of their footsteps.

His heart was beating against his ribcage, blood pounding in his ears. He wouldn't be this anxious over the whole ordeal has he still been alone. The weird need to protect his companion was driving him into a faster running speed and more complex ideas.

"There..." He pointed to the gated off stairwell to the lower level, completely out of breath as he carried on to explain: "Hop the gate, I'll make a distraction."

"What if they catch you?" She whispered back, her voice further muffled by the mask she was still wearing.

Clearly, the need to protect was mutual.

Out of instinct, he gave her hand a comforting squeeze, reminding himself to drop it, "They won't." With those reassuring words, they parted ways.

He lingered around almost a second too long to make sure she got over the gate ok before he booked it to a side exit, purposefully making a ton of noise, leaves crunching beneath the soles of his shoes.

Once he was certain it'd be enough to mislead the cop(s?) that had entered the building, he made a beeline for a window he'd taken notice of earlier while he was exploring the underground unit. It was just wide enough for him to squeeze through and hop down. Just in the nick of time, as well, seeing as how there was barely five seconds of time between the sound of his feet hitting the floor and the footsteps of a cop running out to where he'd made the diversion just moments prior.

Standing stiff as a statue, he listened as the cop spoke into his radio, "I scared the fuckers off." He muffled the sigh of relief that escaped his lips with the back of his hand.

He made a point of waiting to hear the car driving off the property before going to seek out the girl. Props to her - although the space wasn't particularly large, he couldn't pin point her location even after scoping out the area for the third time.

"Hey!" He whisper-yelled, still wary of raising his voice, "The coast is clear!"

He watched in amusement, a smile tugging at his lips, as a lid of one of the empty crates was lifted, the girl emerging from within.

That's when all caution was tossed out the window as the two broke out into laughter.

"Come on, let's get you out of there." Steve said, taking the lid from her and setting it on the ground before taking a hold of her hands, helping her stay balanced as she hopped her way out of the crate.

"Damn, was it hard to breathe in there." She chuckled, finally removing her mask, flashing a bright smile at Steve in the process.

Would it be an upmost cliché to say he was enamored right off the bat? Maybe, probably. But it'd definitely not be a lie. She was indeed beautiful, he was aware of it before she even took the mask of. However now, with her full face on display there was no denying it. The tension had been lifted off her shoulders, replaced by her usual lightheartedness.

He had to recalibrate himself for a moment to regain cognitive thought and remember how to function in human interactions. He successfully managed to extend his hand for a handshake, "I'm Steve, by the way."

She captured it with hers immediately, his smile impossibly brightening, "Y/N. Nice to meet you, Steve. And thanks, I owe you big time."

He shook his head, mind racing as to how to navigate the conversation without making an ass of himself, "Nah, you owe me nothing. Us urban explorers have to look out for one another."

Her eyebrows quirked up, "Ah, so my observation was right, we're in the same boat."

"Well, actually..." Steve smiled, slinging the backpack strap off his shoulder, setting it on the ground to unzip it, "I'm more of a paranormal investigator." He explained, showing Y/N the ghost hunting gadgets inside.

The look she gave him was nothing short of amazed, much to his relief, "No way! I love that! I've always been curious but never had the balls to do it. Not on my own at least." That last bit was added as more of an afterthought but it didn't fly under his radar.

"Well, if it means anything to ya, I've been told I'm great company for ghost busting." He's never been a flirt, ever. Not a successful one anyway. Well, not that he's often put himself in situations where quick wit and a few flirty remarks would come in handy. Still, even he's aware that he handled that well. He picked up what she put down.

And if her beaming smile was anything to go by, he did so well. "Aren't I glad to hear that." She too reached inside her backpack, rummaging around for a few seconds before plucking out a pen and handing it to him, "Maybe you could show me the ropes, instruct me on how to use those thingies." She pointed at his ghost hunting equipment and offering him her arm. An action that earned her a puzzled look from him, causing her to giggle sheepishly, "I have nothing to write on, the arm will have to do. That is if you wanna give me your contact info, of course. No pressure."

All hesitation evaporated as soon as it had plagued her mind when, with the goofiest smile, Steve accepted the offered arm and jotted down his phone number.

"Thank you." She smiled, cheeks flushed.

"No, no. You'll thank me only after I've made a ghost hunter out of you." He mused back, cranking his charm up to eleven and hoping for the best.

"I'll take those words to heart."

"And I'm giving them to you as a promise."

With said that and a professional handshake to officialize it, the two made a deal. A deal that would kickstart a series of wild explorations, fun - and some slightly terrifying - memories, stories they'll be retelling their whole lives. And, of course, a company.

A company known as Haunted Nights.

That intel makes the caption under the aforementioned posts much clearer.

"It's my pleasure to introduce you to the cofounder of Haunted Nights, who also happens to be my fiancée @y/n_hn"

To top it all off, we have Dylan's comment right underneath.

@snevets_nalyd: I can't believe she said yes @y/n_hn blink twice if you need help

[lambsouvlaki]

For the Hell of It - A Training Exercise

Characters: Jason Todd x fem!oc

Rating and warnings: G, swearing.

Word count: 1,764

Summary: Jason and her her run through a pretend-kidnapping for training purposes.

Masterlist

-----

BWAAAAAAA!

Her eyes cracked open to Jason standing at the foot of the bed, holding an air horn. 

She stared at the ceiling and placidly considered that she might be dating the worst person alive. The haze of comfortable sleepiness clung to her despite the rude awakening. She was not someone who snapped awake quickly. 

“Yes?” she asked. 

“You’ve woken up in a strange place. You don’t remember how you got here, assume you were kidnapped. The door is locked. There is no sign of your captors, but you don’t know how long that will last,” he said, dead serious. “What do you do?”

Andy blinked slowly at him. “I ask the guy with the air horn not to blow it again.” 

BWAAAAAAA!

“Genuine answers only.”

He lifted the side of the mattress up, dumping her on the ground. 

“Oh no,” she despaired, sitting in a pool of sheets and blankets on the hardwood floor.

“What do you do?” he demanded.

She breathed in deeply. Okay. Okay. “I put pants on.”

“Go on then.”

She stumbled up, and shuffled to her clothes folded atop the dresser. 

They were in a countryside cottage for a weekend getaway. The night before had been normal enough, although Jason had been dropping pretty obvious clues all week that he had something planned. She had waxed her legs but also brought hiking boots and the first aid kit. 

Alas, the lovely romantic night before had lulled her into a false sense of security. They cooked together, enjoyed the privacy of the cottage, and had an early night in. Their relationship was young enough that they were still acclimating to sleeping next to each other, but she was very relaxed and fell asleep quickly. 

She tied her hair up, half tucked her blouse into her pants, then yawned. Kidnapped, huh? She tried to remember what the Safety in Gotham City pamphlets said to do, but couldn’t come up with anything. 

“Now what?” Jason asked. He was fully dressed in sturdy civilian clothes from the beginning. 

“Um. Is it better to try and escape or to stay where I am in the hopes of not making it worse?”

“For the sake of this exercise I’m not here. What do you think is better?” 

She pursed her lips in thought. She jiggled the door handle. Yup, locked. Hmm. She looked out the window. The bedroom was on the second floor but with the gently sloping roof of the first story below them. There was no sign of anyone outside, it was a lovely autumn morning in fact. 

If she were kidnapped and moved to a second location, she should try to escape, right? They said that chances of being found dropped to almost nothing once you were moved to a second location. For her, either they would be using her to get to the Red Hood, or they were just a regular serial killer. The latter might actually be the safer circumstance now that she thought about it. 

She grabbed her handbag, opened the window, and climbed out. The tiles were cold beneath her feet. 

Jason followed without comment, sliding the window closed behind him. 

She inspected the edge of the roof, with its overhanging gutter, and the large bricks of the wall below.

“It was very kind of these kidnappers to not tie me up, or blindfold me, or anything,” she commented, while committing to the awkwardness of clambering backwards over the edge. 

“Consider this easy mode.”

She hummed, not liking that one bit. 

Now that she thought of it, he had made a promise a few months back to teach her some proper survival skills. It was probably overdue, all things considered. 

“This doesn’t really feel like training,” she said. “Feels more like ‘watch Andy make a fool of herself’.”

He smiled and didn’t say anything. 

Asshat. 

She landed on the gravel of the driveway. She winced at the sting to her bare feet. She should have grabbed her socks, but her shoes were in the cottage entrance. Her hands were already sore from gripping the bricks. The last of her sleepiness was thoroughly gone, leaving behind only uncaffeinated grumpiness. 

The car they’d arrived in was still in the driveway, unmoved. She tried the driver’s door and found it unlocked, but who knew where the key was. 

The gravel and the cold were making her feet sting. She stalked back towards the front door. 

“You’re going back in?” Jason asked, aghast. 

“I thought you weren’t here.”

His lips twisted. “Fine. Go on, re-enter the building you just escaped, through the front door.” 

“I’m not wearing any shoes!”

He looked wholly unsympathetic. 

“Wait, is that why you always have some boots under your bed?”

“Gotta be ready to go.” 

“Huh. I guess that makes sense. But I doubt kidnappers are going to be so thoughtful.” 

BWAAAAAA!

“Ah!” 

She snatched the air horn from him.

“Make a decision,” Jason said. “What are you doing?”

“Oh! I put my hiking boots in the car!” She spun back to the car, and pulled them from the back seat. Opening and shutting car doors was probably not stealthy behaviour, but in the absence of any clear threat, she was going to take that chance. She had shoes, but no socks. She’d have to make do. 

Now what? 

She sat in the driver’s seat, and rubbed her temples. Jason sat himself in the passenger seat and looked at her expectantly. 

The air horn was back in his hands. 

Damnit. 

She grabbed the screwdriver and pliers from the glove box, then she reached beneath the dashboard and pulled out a bundle of wires.

Jason leaned back in his seat, eyebrows raised and arms crossed. 

She got the car started. She put it in reverse and backed out. 

“So how’d you learn how to do that?” he asked.  

“Youtube tutorial?” 

He snorted. “Try again.”

She sighed. The road from the cottage was a long winding single lane road for about a mile before it rejoined the main road, hedged by old red oaks. Their broad leaves glittered with dew under the early sun. 

“After I got out, I didn’t have a nickel to my name. Getting legit work as an ex-con is, well, you know. And I couldn’t stomach the other options. My old cellmate offered to help me out, but only if I helped her with a little something first. Clearing out a dealership.”

“Well look at you, miss grand theft auto.” 

She shrugged, terribly embarrassed. “It was just the once.”

“Those skills are still useful, I don’t care how you got ‘em”, he said, as frank as always. “What else can you do?”

“Not very much,” she said, her shoulders relaxing some since he wasn’t making a big deal of it. “We, uh, don’t keep up.” 

He leaned an elbow on his window ledge. “Much gas left in those dealership cars?”

“I think she brought some cans.” Her eyes swept over her own fuel gauge. It was empty.

“Did you syphon out the gas?” she asked. “Of course you did. Of course.” 

She gripped the steering wheel, tired, frazzled, and hungry, as the car slowed to a stop. Jason had the gall to smile. 

“So now what?” he said. 

“Now I commit a murder.”

“Uh-huh. And after that?” 

“We walk,” she said sourly. 

They set off into the woods in the direction of Gotham. She had a good sense of direction and recalled from the view at the cottage that the grounds sloped down towards the city’s outskirts. She ate the snack bar she kept in her bag and emptied her water bottle, offering Jason none. He didn’t seem to mind. 

Her lack of socks was really aggravating. He owed her a foot rub tonight, damnit. 

Just as the sun reached its height, they came across a shed with a couple of old quad bikes in it. 

That made the day a little less galling, and they rode across some wild fields with what appeared to be an abandoned horse obstacle course, crossed a river, and then crested the slope of a hill. Wayne Manor sat before them. 

“Oh thank fuck,” she muttered. 

There was nobody home, upstairs at least, but apparently Jason had expected this. They cleaned up and raided Alfred’s pantry for a late lunch. 

She was much more sore than she expected from what was really just a bit of unexpected walking.

“How’d I do?” she asked, face down on the kitchen bench.

“Could be worse,” Jason said, amused, as he assembled some sandwiches. “Could be better.” 

“Give it to me straight.” 

“ Your idea of a getaway needs some work, but we’ll go over how to handle that later. You need to learn how to pick a lock, and how to move quietly. We made good time on the hike, and your wilderness survival craft is surprisingly good for a city girl.”

“Thank you,” she said, grasping the positive while she could. Jason tended to give reverse compliment sandwiches. 

“Your situational awareness is non-existent. You were walking around in the open outside the house without a care in the world.”

“Fair.”

“You also forgot shoes and socks exist.”

She groaned. 

He patted her head. 

“Besides the socks, and the not paying attention to anything, did I make the right calls?” She tilted her head to fix one eye on him. “Should I have trekked through the words or stuck to the road?”

“It’s not about whether you made the optimum decisions, nobody ever really does.” He brushed a loose curl of hair back from her face. “It’s about my learning how you handle an emergency, so when the time comes I can predict what you’ll do and meet you halfway.”

“Oh. That makes sense.”

“For example, I would never have guessed you’ll hot wire any vehicle you can get your hands on.”

She pulled herself up with puffed up indignation. “I will not. I won’t hotwire anything later than 2003. Too many anti-theft measurements.”

He snorted a laugh. “Not with a little more know-how, there aren’t.” He slid her a plate and pulled up the stool next to her. 

“I was a touch more confident than I would have been without you there.” 

“I know.” 

She took a big bite of her sandwich, then registered his shark-like smile.  

She pointed a finger at him. “Just so we’re clear, more than one fake kidnapping a month and I’m leaving you.”

He laughed. “Alright, no more surprises until at least October.” 

“November.” 

“It’s worse in the cold.” 

“Bring it on,” she said with undue bravado.

Next >>

[cyborg-franky]

Frankyyy!! let me join this date event <3 Could you please make this little woman happy with her husband Sanji? this woman need some comfort and would appreciate it so much <3 <3 Thank you I love you!!

I will do my best <3<3 I hope this makes you smile my deaaaar!

Sanji was always trying to outdo himself, every Valentine's day, every anniversary, and every birthday. He was always in constant competition with himself. He wanted you to feel cherished and loved with each passing year. His desire to make you happy never dwindled in all the years you’d been together.

Every time he floored you with something you’d tell him that you loved him no matter what, he could just bring you home a takeaway and watch a movie on your sofa and you would love him just as much as when he took you to fancy meals and bought you flowers. 

And he knew that he never did it to prove himself, it was simply his love language. 

This year on your wedding anniversary he hadn’t made big sweeping plans, hadn't bought you the biggest bunch of flowers he could carry. He suggested a nice meal and honestly? You were happy for something a little less crazy and exuberant. 

You’d dressed up nice, he had lavished you with kisses and praise, hearts in his eyes as he took your hand and kissed the back, working his way your arm to your neck, tickling with the scruff on his chin before his lips met yours.

The food was good, the place nice and quiet and you enjoyed your evening with your husband. He’d suggested a walk in the park, the weather was fresh and cool. It felt nice on your flushed cheeks, the wine at dinner being the culprit to the blush.

“Dinner was lovely,” You sighed and thought about the dessert, missing how it tasted already. He held your hand as you walked down the gravel path of the park, lit up at night with lights draped across mighty tree branches.

“Wasn’t bad was it?” He said with a shrug, you knew what he was getting at. “I mean, it wasn’t as good as your cooking but it was good.” You smirked when you saw him straighten up, a spring in his step, he loved hearing what he already knew from you. Loving the praise and compliments.

The park was mostly empty, a few other couples and people walking dogs crossed paths with you. “That’s pretty,” You pointed to a bandstand, flowers planted all around it, and lights decorating the structure. Sanji nodded and could tell you wanted to go up onto it. 

At the back was a bench, you and Sanji sitting on it, admiring the calm evening atmosphere, just enjoying each other's company. You both chatted away, talked about boring everyday things, about plans for the future. 

A comfortable silence settled between you both as you heard the gentle tip-tapping of rain on the roof, you didn't care though, it was fine. The smell of the rain was always one of your favorite smells. You watched Sanji dig around in his pocket, well, it had been an entire hour since he had his last cigarette.

“Hey,” you turned to face him, seeing a small box in his hand, and noticed he’d sank to his knee before he popped open the box. “I tried to think of how to outdo myself and I thought if I proposed to you again if we renewed our vows, I could start all over again. My love, will you accept?”

You blinked… taking in his sweet words before you put a hand over your mouth, feeling tears of happiness roll down your cheeks as you nodded, too choked up to form words as he slid the ring on your finger, it complimented your current wedding band.

He managed to outdo himself once again.

[hephaestn]

harringrove greece au

the water twinkled away beneath the scorching hot sunlight, crashing and splashing against the dark stones near the beach. it was so different from home. from california. the colors were brighter, the cicadas louder. but it was good. it wasn’t home but it felt like it. the warmth, the salt in the air.

“are you gonna stand there all day?”

billy turned to max, who stared at him through her black sunglasses, hands on her hips—demanding. he let out a laugh. she had grown so much, she was just as tall as him now, but in his mind she was still a kid—a bossy kid.

“come on, the cook needs some help, you know? this was your idea, not ours!” she said as she made her way back up the pathway to the house.

it was old, barely standing. the clear beige paint was peeling off, half of the roof tiles were on the floor. but it was home. or something close to it.

billy followed max back to the house, his steps were loud against the gravel. the noise in the kitchen hit him the second he walked through the back door. music was playing, water was boiling, the oven was on, and so was the fan—spinning and spinning, offering a small thread of fresh air.

“oh, he dares to show!” steve said as he wiped his hands clean on the apron. “the tomatoes are there, behind you on the counter. could you pass them over?”

billy half turned to examine the counter behind his back, a small wicker basket was there, filled to the brim with bright red cherry tomatoes.

“when’s everyone arriving?” billy asked steve as he approached him, setting the tiny basket next to the cutting board.

steve locked his eyes with billy’s for a brief second, a sweet, small smile appearing on his face. “hi.” steve said sheepishly before leaving a quick peck on billy’s lips, a small flush appeared on billy’s cheeks as he pulled away.

“you taste of olives.” billy whispered, wrinkles showing on the corners of his eyes as he smiled.

“yeah, well. your sister made me try like a hundred different types earlier in town.”

“she doesn’t like olives.” billy frowned.

“guess who does.” steve raised his eyebrows just as max walked back from the living room and into the kitchen.

she had just changed her clothes. jean shorts and stripped t-shirt switched for a long, flowy dress with daisies.

“do i look okay? i look ridiculous, don’t i?” she groaned to herself as she brushed her hands against the fabric.

billy shook his head, one hand resting on steve’s waist. “you look beautiful, max.”

max looked up at him with big, worried, blue eyes. she lifted the corners of her mouth in a small smile before her eyes shot up to the wall clock behind billy.

“oh my god! the ferry is about to arrive!” max exclaimed as she quickly tied her hair up. “where are the car keys?”

steve and billy shared a smile before steve returned to his cooking. billy pulled the car keys out of his pocket.

“here!” he called for max’s attention before he threw them her way. “be careful. don’t want any of those shitheads to have a heart attack on their first day on greek soil.”

max nodded with a big, bright smile. “we all know i’m a far better driver than you anyway.”

“and she’s right.” steve muttered to himself.

life was easy. sure, it was about to become chaos for a week. but billy knew they needed this. steve and max. to see those they loved. they had given up everything for him when he said he was leaving america but he wanted them to be happy, as happy as they could be. as happy as they made him, as greece made him.

[hinatastinygiant]

3 | Դուստր

Pairing: Uzui x Fem!Reader

The Emptiness You Left

"Suma, you're in charge of taking care of her," Ubuyashiki instructs.

"Yes, sir! She can stay with me at my place," Suma nods her head profusely.

"That's a good idea, Suma. I will notify Uzui of the situation," Ubuyashiki replies as he holds out his arm to the side. You find it odd for a moment, until a black crow comes swooping down and lands on his arm. He then whispers something in the crow's ear and the bird flies off.

"Woah," you can't help but gasp.

"Thank you again, Master," Suma nods before leading you out of the room.

Suma then leads you out of the estate and the two of you walk to another, similar-looking building nearby.

"Well, this is it, Y/N," she beams over at you. "Your new home!"

You look up and admire the architecture of the house. It's very modern and sleek. The outside is a light shade of grey and brown while the roof is black. The windows are long and thin, stretching all the way down to the floor.

Suma leads you up a gravel path and slides open the door to the first room. She walks you over to the kitchen where she hands you a glass of water and tells you to wait.

While she's gone, you examine the place. It's so clean and spacious, it's almost intimidating.

"Hey," a familiar voice says from behind you. When you turn around, you see Suma again. However, this time she is accompanied by a man with two thick, golden rings around his large upper arms.

"Hello," you say quietly, not knowing what else to say as you scramble to your feet.

"I'm Tengen Uzui," the man greets you, holding out his hand.

You shake his hand and introduce yourself. His grip is strong and confident, just like his personality.

"How did a cute girl like you end up here?" he then questions, taking a seat on the couch.

"Oh," you start, "I, uh-"

"You already know the answer to that," Suma chimes in, shaking her head.

"That doesn't mean she can't tell me the story herself," he retorts.

You take a deep breath and recount the events from earlier. You tell him about your sister and Doma, but decide to leave out the part about your brother for now. Thankfully, Suma doesn't bring it up, either.

"Okay," he nods once you finish explaining everything to him. "You may stay here until you get back on your feet."

"Thank you, sir," you nod.

"This is great!" Suma cheers.

Uzui sighs, "Now, for some ground rules. You will take care to keep your room spotless and maintain proper etiquette. There will be no eating or drinking in your room. You must clean up after your own messes. And you must address me as Lord Tengen or Master Tengen."

"Yes, Lord Tengen," you nod your head slowly. "Um, may I ask what it is that you do for a living?"

"I'm a hashira," he answers, which means nothing to you. "I fight demons."

"Demons?"

"Does she know nothing?" he sighs, looking at Suma with a defeated expression.

"She just arrived here today, Master Tengen. Don't expect her to know anything about demons," she says, shrugging.

"Fine. Y/N, that thing that ate your sister was a demon," Uzui explains. "We are a group of demon slayers who are fighting against these demons. There are twelve hashira and we are all assigned certain areas. My area happens to be right where Suma found you which explains how you ended up at my door."

"My sibling said something about demons before..." you mutter aloud. "But I just thought they were playing one of their weird games again."

"Demons are certainly no joke," Uzui shakes his head. "Especially the one you were able to escape from. It's quite impressive, I do say."

But his words mean little to you as all you can think of is poor Inosuke hiding in those vents.

"Do you want to sleep now?" Suma then asks.

"Actually," you whisper, "can you tell me more about the demon slayers?"

Uzui nods his head slowly, "Yes, of course. Suma, why don't you go see to Y/N's room?"

"Yes, sir," she bows before walking out of the room.

Uzui then begins to recount stories about his past and the different hashira he knows. He tells you about his three wives and how much he loves them. And he tells you about the different demons he has destroyed. Everything about him makes you so inspired to follow in his steps. To become a demon slayer.

"Alright, Y/N, I think it's time for you to get some rest. I'll go call for Suma," he then says after he finishes speaking. However, the second his back is turned to you, your arm reaches out and you grab him by the wrist.

Uzui looks at you with a puzzled expression.

"Can you teach me?"

"Teach you what?" he asks.

"How to become a demon slayer. I want to be like you, Lord Uzui," you say with stars in your eyes. It feels so good to finally know a way for you to protect someone in your family- your last blood relative left.

He's taken aback, but he quickly gathers his composure and clears his throat. "No. No, Y/N, I will not teach you."

"What? Why not?! I want to help!" you plead.

"It's far too dangerous for you. You've barely lived past your last encounter," he tells you, his tone getting rougher. "Suma! Come down here!"

"Then teach me how to fight and live through the encounters!" you try once more.

"No. This is the end of the discussion. You are to stay here and mind your own business," he orders, and you are immediately silenced.

Just then, Suma walks into the room. She can quickly tell the atmosphere is tense and she looks between the two of you with wide eyes.

"Suma," Uzui calls, looking at her once before glaring back down at you, "show her to her room."

The Emptiness You Left

[remwrites]

for a cute little scarian prompt: immortal scar trying desperately to find a way to cut his golden thread, so that he can grow old with grian because the guilt he would feel if he tried to make grain immortal with him is so overwhelming he can’t even fathom it <3<3 (bonus points if grian wants to become immortal because no length of time—save forever—with scar is enough for him…)

"cute little prompt" ARE YOU TRYING TO KILL ME

[]

For anyone else in the world, sitting on the edge of a roof would be a worry.

For Scar, it was no more dangerous than sitting on his living room couch. The endless drop below his hanging feet was a stunning visage, and Scar knew exactly what it felt like to sink like a stone through the air, to hit the ground. And to survive.

His ancestor had given his life to save a hundred. So his descendants, Scar included, had been gifted a hundred lifetimes.

After a few centuries it stopped being a gift.

Now Scar was here, specifically hanging over a roof forty stories off the ground, standing at the drop and knowing it would be nothing more than an inconvenience to fall. He hadn't come up there to fall. He'd come up there to think.

"Scar."

Scar exhaled. He didn't turn around. He said, to the wind, "I'm not going to change my mind."

"Stubborn fool." Grian replied, footsteps approaching.

That got Scar's attention. He turned, "Watch the edge."

Bitterness flashed over Grian's face, dark and annoyed. "I wouldn't have to, you know."

Scar had never loved anyone as much as he loved Grian. He'd also never had a fight with someone like they just had, screaming at each other until Scar had stormed off to mope on the roof like the melodramatic immortal he was.

And Grian, the fragile human, tugging the edge of his long sweater sleeve. The cold visibly cutting through him, even as he defiantly lifted his chin.

"You don't want this." Scar said, throat sore.

Grian narrowed his eyes. "I think I'm capable enough to know what I want."

Scar sighed, eyeing the roving city blurs beneath his feet. "I told you. It would be better if I joined you, instead of you joining me. We can live a normal life together. I've already done immortality for too long and let me tell you, it's not all it's cut out to be."

"But if you join me, Scar, you could die. And what the hell am I going to do if it's before me?" Grian stomped his foot, eyes flashing.

"That's exactly why you can't join me." Scar's smile went bitter and sad. "Because all I've ever known is everyone I love dying before me."

"It wouldn't fucking matter." Grian said incredulous. "Because the only person I'd need would be right there beside me."

Scar couldn't respond, the pain in his throat reaching a threshold. He looked away, back at the forty-floor drop. Ants of people on the sidewalk, milling, headlights and street-lamps in pinpricks.

"I want to grow old with you." Scar said, scratchy. He didn't want to argue anymore.

"You've had so much time." Grian replied, approaching to sit in front of him, hands in the gravel roof. "But I haven't. I want more with you. If we could have eternity together, why wouldn't you take it?"

"Because eternity sucks."

"Eternity sucks alone, yeah." Grian reached out and took both his hands.

"I'm not going to change my mind." Scar couldn't stop himself from squeezing his hands back.

"And I'm not going to change mine." Grian smiled, challenging. "If we play chicken, who do you think will break first?"

A slimy hand closed around Scar's heart. He said, wary, "What do you mean?"

"If you cut your golden thread, I will take it." Grian promised.

Scar's breath was taken away. He swallowed, realizing the force of nature he was dealing with. Grian was truly unlike any person he'd ever met in centuries. It was going to be his downfall.

He did not want to doom Grian to his own fate. His partner didn't realize what he was asking for. But Grian was the type of person who did not lose. He would cut off his nose to spite his face.

He was forcing Scar's hand. He stared at the fragile human sitting at his feet, far too high off the ground. Grian's eyes searched his face, the line of his mouth set in stone, speaking to the true severity of his words.

"Are you going to help me find my own?" Grian asked.

Scar looked ahead at his growing eternity. He would just have to make sure it was worth it for Grian.

[rocknrollsalad]

STWG Daily Prompt (Nov 19) - Giving Instructions to Someone

🔨 pairing(s): steddie with side clarkson

🔦 Eddie is moving into his new apartment. One that requires a bunch of new furniture be built. It goes as well as expected.

🔧 content/trigger warnings: childhood trauma, eddie makes a couple jokes lusting after steve, couples fighting

🪛 word count: 1769

🪚 bonus author note: writing was a real struggle for me today so this is a "I did my best" and not actually my best. I love the idea, hope I pulled it off because I am asleep now lol

It was a long road to here. Literally dragged through hell, twice, a hospital stay, and so much loss but here Eddie stood; in his own apartment. Sure it was government-funded and so new it smelled like plastic and cleaner but it was Eddie’s. All Eddie’s.

No more waiting for the bathroom, no more creeping around to be quiet at two in the afternoon, and his uncle didn’t have to sleep on a cot in the living room. In fact, he also got an apartment like Eddie but opted to buy himself a trailer because there was no way the government was going to keep tabs on him like that.

Eddie didn’t care if these weirdos were watching him. He almost preferred it. If there was some otherworldly monster coming back to finish what those bats started, Eddie wanted to know. If he could be the first to know, that’d be even better.

Plus, he wasn’t going to turn down this glorious studio apartment with its spacious floor plan and roof without leaks. Wayne could waste away at the end of a gravel drive, Eddie was a city boy now! Right smack in the center of the rebuilt Hawkins. Which everyone let him know, that that did not make him a city boy but they could all shut their traps.

Yesterday, all the boxes marked “Ed’s” were moved from storage. It wasn’t much, Wayne’s truck did the trick just fine. Today, they went shopping for everything else. Not one of those dusty old boxes held furniture. Eddie didn’t have so much as a bed to his name.

Big box store after big box store, Eddie burned through a good chunk of the money that came with the house. Wayne bought a few things, he said he felt obligated and who was Eddie to deprive him of the chance to buy that huge dining room table that would be perfect for D&D?

However, there’s a big difference between buying a few chairs at a yard sale or inheriting the neighbor’s couch because they inherited a better one and buying new furniture. At the top of the list was that the new stuff needed to be assembled.

Eddie was more than capable of doing it himself. Not only that but Steve was more than capable of doing it himself. And if Eddie had any say in this, Steve would be doing it. Sweaty, shirtless, and thinking too hard. Then Eddie could sit on the counter, drink beer, and enjoy the view.

Instead of that, he got Uncle Wayne. Eddie tried everything to live out his fantasy of giving the handmade lemonade (and a blowjob) but Wayne wasn’t having it. He knew what he was doing better than they did and therefore the only person able to put four boards together.

Things got so desperate, that Eddie called Scott to come and take Wayne out or have some sort of building emergency of his own. Maybe his car made a funny noise or something but Scott was too good of a guy to lie like that. Scott was such a “good guy”, he came over to help. Eddie found a way to make his problem worse.

There were now two middle-aged men in his “living room” shouting at each other over whether or not slot a needed board c or board x. If Scott pointed to the directions, which Wayne didn’t read, any harder he’d poke through them. At first, Eddie wanted to make jokes about the patience of a teacher but he’d worked with Wayne before, and Scott was using up all his patience. And he wasn’t raising his voice.

Eddie still got to watch but this show was not the one he pictured. It had the opposite effect. Steve joined in to add to the awkward spectator feeling, like holding the flashlight at the ripe age of six. They were breathing wrong, didn’t dare make a sound, and just watched and fought over who was going to be the one to run to the neighbors to call 911 since they hadn’t got the phone company out yet.

The running commentary, the snarky comments like those old muppets watching a play, got them pretty far but Eddie was never one for sitting still. Least of all when there were things to do.

After an hour of the most tragic bookcase build, Eddie turned to Steve and covered his face so his uncle (who wasn’t watching) couldn’t read his lips. “Do you think you could get that box over to that corner without being noticed?”

“Huh?”

“They’re going to be at this long after we go to sleep, I’m not gonna wait all day. So can you move the box with my desk out of their line of sight?”

“Yeah, absolutely. Easy.”

“Easy? Don’t make me laugh, it’ll draw attention over to us.”

“Seriously, Eddie…”

“I tried to move the screwdriver before you got here so no one stepped on it and my uncle came unglued. Fifty questions immediately followed by several minutes on why I wasn’t qualified to use a flathead screwdriver. He doesn’t even need weakness to sense, Steve.”

“He’s not-”

“Whatever you’re going to say isn’t right. He’s an uncle. They’re their own thing.”

“He’s not going to care if we help out.”

“Why do you think we’ve been sitting here? For fun? My dear Steven. Sweet, sweet Steven. You have so much to learn about the world.”

“You’re an idiot.”

“Says the guy thinking he can build furniture without complaints from the old men.”

“Wouldn’t they want our help?”

“No! We’d do it wrong.”

“I know how to–”

“I do too and if the show in front of us is anything to go off, we might be the only ones that do know but that isn’t how it’ll go.”

“Whatever, fine. What are we doing?”

“We. Oh, I’m not touching anything again. You! You are going to pick that box up, do not drag it, and gently place it over in this corner of the apartment. Where, hopefully, you will not be seen.”

“Why’s it me, why can’t you do it?”

“I’ve explained that already, oh my god. Listen for once. If you didn’t want to have to do this shit, get a different boyfriend. Probably one that’s an orphan.”

“Jesus, Eddie.”

“Fine, how about this? We can’t break anything in until they’re gone so if we don’t start building shit ourselves, I think it’d be faster to claim Wayne’s trailer. I could beat him in hand-to-hand combat.”

“Oh, that’s the part you do?”

“Yes. I bring to the relationship someone who can win a fight.”

“Dustin isn’t going to be telling everyone this when I kick his ass.”

“I would pay so much money to see that.”

“I’m going home. This isn’t my apartment, mine is furnished. Best of luck to you Munsons but Castle Harrington is going to be resting comfortably tonight.”

“Did you not hear me? I could best you in battle. Easy. You would need an asteroid to strike precisely on my head, strong enough to take me out and leave you wounded, at worst. Otherwise, babe. No way. You don’t stand a chance.”

“Very strange way to get me to do your bidding.”

Eddie twisted his head, stealing a glance at the others real quick before nodding. “Well played. I’ll wave the white flag.”

“Better.”

“Look, you have to move the box because if you get caught you have the perk of saying you don’t know better. I do and then we’re derailed by another ten hours as Wayne explains to you, me, and half of Hawkins why I can’t build a desk. So yes. Take one for the team. I’ll come help you once I know we’re safe.”

“Fine but if I get caught in some lecture.”

“I’ll bury you in your favorite outfit, gym shorts, tube socks, and whatever that weird little crop top is.”

“Abso-”

“Shhh, I’ll leave your funeral to Robin, c’mon. I’m not an idiot.”

Steve didn’t say anything, just gave Eddie that look that said he wanted to fight the points made but they’re accurate so he can’t. No amount of being together was going to put Eddie as the one to plan Steve’s funeral. He knew his place.

Inching across the floor, Steve made his way to the desired box. Eddie sat in his chair, breath held, and his stare ping-ponging between Steve and Wayne.

It was slow and torturous, still nice on the eyes, but Steve got the box over without being noticed. Eddie thought Scott caught him but if he did, he didn’t say anything. Maybe he was smarter than Eddie thought…or he didn’t notice.

From what Eddie could tell, Wayne was trying to just glue things together and Scott was counting out the screws, repeatedly, because there were more than enough. No need for glue. At this point, Eddie would be lucky if he was left with usable pieces to put back together after this. For insisting he was the man for the job, Wayne was actually shit at putting furniture together. Something Eddie wasn’t sure he needed to learn.

Eddie crept his way over, wishing he’d worn anything other than boots today, as Steve sliced open the box. Right on top sat the packet of instructions and Eddie’s knee-jerk response to toss them aside was strong. It was a desk, how hard could it be to figure out? As that thought played in his mind in a voice that wasn’t his own, Eddie snatched the booklet.

“This is an important moment for us,” Eddie sighed, looking at Steve.

The confusion was clear as Steve stood there with an opened pocket knife pointing at the wall, frozen and waiting for clarification he knew he didn’t need to ask for. It’d come regardless.

“We could become them. That could be us,” Eddie started, nodding to the other half of the expansive room. “A bookcase couldn’t be simpler and, I mean, Wayne was asking for a blow torch.”

“No he wasn’t,” Steve sighed, opening the box so he didn’t have to keep listening.

“Okay fine! But we could have gone out to the forest, cut down a tree, learned to turn it into boards, do that, and built a bookcase faster than them. All because my uncle is too proud to look at directions or, I guess, listen to Scott but that’s Scott’s problem right now. So! Step one is to–”

“Unpack everything. We can’t put anything together when it’s in his box.”

“Mmmm, god…and you’re smart. You’re too much Harrington. Too much for me.”

[voicesinthedarkness]

Child

TRIGGER WARNING: IMPLIED CHILD NEGLECT

Chapter One

He finds her in a safe house.

Shots are fired. Three arrows leave black marks on the wall next to a window. Finally, he pins her to the floor and holds a knife to her throat. Something flashes in her eyes, something that makes him stop.

It is not anger, or hate, or vengeance.

It is regret.

Remorse.

Fear.

Sorrow.

He stares down at her, panting. She stares up at him, no longer struggling. Resigned to her fate. “Black Widow,” he says, voice still rough as he tries to catch his breath. “Hawkeye,” she replies steadily, her Russian accent thick.

“Do you want to live?”

“I… I don’t know.”

His voice softens. “If I roll off of you right now, are you going to attack me?” Her breath shudders in surprise. “No.”

And she doesn’t.

“What’s your name?” he asks, dabbing at the small scrape on her throat. She hesitates, thinking, then answers, “Natalia. But… but my friends call me Natasha.” He smiles. “Hi, Natasha. I’m Clint.”

~ ~ ~

Natasha Romanoff

“We need confirmation Dreykov’s in the building,” Clint says, eyes focused on said building from his perch a few roofs away. “His car is pulling up now,” Natasha reports. She watches as a young girl, no more than four or five years old, with hair even redder than Natasha’s exits the car and is ushered inside. Her eyes follow the girl to the second floor, heading to a room with a familiar figure inside. This is wrong, she thinks suddenly. The girl shouldn’t be killed for Dreykov’s sins. But if Dreykov dies…

Maybe my own sins can be forgiven.

“Natasha, we clear?”

“Yes,” she answers automatically and promptly regrets it. “Wai—”

But the building is already exploding. The girl’s tiny body is wreathed in flames and propelled through a window. She lands below Natasha’s hiding spot on an apartment building fire escape, bruised, bleeding, and unconscious, but strangely unburned. Natasha easily slips from her hiding spot into the alley, feet thudding on the gravel-strewn asphalt next to the girl. Clint runs up to them, a first-aid pack in his hands. “Hey,” he pants, kneeling and taking out a couple alcohol wipes and some bandages. “How’d you find her?” he asks, cleaning a scrape on the girl’s arm. “She was flung out of the building by the explosion,” Natasha explains, bandaging a cut on her leg. “So… probably part of the Red Room?” Natasha nods. “I… I couldn’t leave her. To be… made into another Widow.” The girl’s hair is coated in ash and dust, but a few of the fiery red-gold curls still glitter in the light. Clint nods too, touching Natasha’s arm gently. “I don’t want that either.”

They work together in silence for the next several minutes, until a gunshot hits the brick of the building behind them, not far above Clint’s head. Immediately he’s up, the girl in his arms, zipping down the alley. Natasha fires her own gun while packing up the first aid kit as fast as possible and follows him.

The gunman chases them for several blocks and into a train station. They dart around a couple corners, until Natasha spots a grate in the ceiling, leading to an air vent. She gestures to it and Clint nods, shifting the girl in his arms so that he can reach up and swing it open. He lifts the girl inside, pulls himself up, and holds out his hands to help Natasha up. “Come on!” he hisses impatiently when Natasha pauses, her independent instincts warring with the critical goal of hiding. Finally, she gives the first aid kit to Clint and grabs his hands once he’s shoved it behind him. He pulls her up easily and gets the vent closed once more just before the gunman comes around the corner, raging about what he’s going to do to someone named Iskra Khozyaikova.

He searches for a long time, so long that Clint eventually takes out a Sharpie and draws a strange grid on the wall of the vent. Natasha can only give him a look of complete confusion. He draws an x in one space, holding the permanent marker out to her. Hesitantly, she takes it and draws her own x. Clint’s eyes widen with surprise. “Do you know how to play tic tac toe?” he whispers. Natasha shakes her head mutely. Clint's expression saddens, but at the look on Natasha's face, he wipes it away quickly. “One person draws x’s and the other draws o’s,” he explains, still whispering. “The first person who gets a line of three wins.” Natasha nods in understanding and draws a new grid, then an o in the far-right middle space, and hands the marker to Clint.

They play two or three dozen games before they both decide it’s safe to leave. Natasha wins the most by far.

~ ~ ~

Clint leads Natasha, the girl in her arms, to a safe house. She wakes up at the sound of the door creaking open, her golden eyes instantly filling with fear. She twists and writhes, but her body is so small and her strength so little that Natasha keeps hold of her easily. “Ты в безопасности,” (you’re safe) she soothes, carefully setting her down when she pauses for a moment. Clint heads to the tiny kitchen, taking three cans of baked beans from the pantry, dumping them in bowls, and putting them in the microwave. “Хотите немного еды?” (Would you like some food?) Natasha asks, leading the girl into the kitchen. She nods after a moment, tentatively climbing onto a chair. “She looks really malnourished. Don’t let her eat too much,” Clint warns. Natasha makes a noise of agreement, watching carefully as the three of them eat and nudging the girl’s bowl away when the amount of beans in the bowl has visibly decreased. “Остальное вы сможете получить позже,” (you can have the rest later) Natasha reassures in response to the girl’s sound of protest. “Как тебя зовут?” (What's your name?) Natasha says. The girl just stares at her silently, clearly still suspicious. Natasha exhales. “Хорошо, ну, меня зовут Наташа, а моего друга зовут Клинт.” (Okay, well, my name is Natasha, and my friend’s name is Clint.) The girl flinches when she hears друга (friend). “Что не так?” (What's wrong?) Natasha asks, reaching out to take the girl's hand, but she jerks away, eyes wide. “Нет,” (no) she whispers. “Пожалуйста.” (Please.) Natasha nods, pulling away. “Ты безопасности здесь,” (you're safe here) she repeats. “Обещать.” (promise)

Chapter Two

[simpofficial]

I See You

SteddillyxOc

Chapter 2

Chapter 1 Chapter 3

"Not father!"

"I don't want to be!"

"Then let go! Never asked you to take! Never asked you to kill pet!"

"It could've killed you!"

"Everything kill! Have gun! Kill both!" I move towards the door but he grabs my arm causing me to growl. "Don't touch!"

"As long as you are staying under my roof then you listen to me!"

"Don't want be here! Rather freeze death than with you!" I pull my arm away and leave the house. Jim Hopper was not my father. He has no right to keep us locked up.

I just wanted to get some fresh air. Go out and breathe. That's all I wanted. Even father let me have fresh air.

I walk through the woods and calm down. The woods has always calmed me. When it was just El, Paco, and I, it was soothing. No fighting. No bad men. No Jim Hopper.

I'd rather go back to that than be in an enclosed space with him.

I hold out my arm and touch the trees as I pass. They feel healthy and it makes me feel good. As I continue to walk my feet hit solid ground and I'm not touching trees anymore. I can feel them but not by touch.

I inhale and smell gravel. I tilt my head up and feel the sun on my face. During my stay in the woods there was rarely any sunshine because of the trees and the cold season.

A loud noise breaks me from my tranquility and causes me to cover my ears.

"Get out of the road! You could've been hit! What are you?! Blind?!" I bring my hands down and look towards the voice.

"Yes."

"Dammit." I feel the male approach causing me to back away. "I'm not gonna hurt you. Is there somewhere I can take you? Live close by?"

"I live here."

"What like in the woods?"

"Yes."

"Steve just get back in the car!" Female, her scent is familiar.

"Just one second Nancy! Okay, do you feel the flatness of the ground?"

"Yes."

"This is the road. If you stand on the road you could be hit by a car. Depending on how fast the car is going it can kill you on impact. You don't want that right?"

"No." He hums.

"Right. You keep off the flat ground you understand?"

"Yes sir." I felt his hand on my shoulder.

"Do you know which way you came from?"

"Yes."

"Good. You stick to the forest floor. The grass ends where the road starts."

"Okay."

"Steve!"

"Okay I have to go. Remember stay off of flat ground." I nod and he drops his hand.

"Goodbye Steve." I turn to leave but he grabs my arm.

"Wait. What's your name?" He let's go of my arm.

"Seven."

"Sevyn?" I like the way he pronounces it.

"Yes."

"Goodbye Sevyn." I make my way to the right until I feel the ground sink when I step. I hear the car leave before I turn back to the road and sit where the road meets the grass.

I lay back and feel the grass under me. I breathe in the fresh air and begin to smile. I've missed this.

Hopper tried to do a good thing but it wasn't for me. Hell even Eleven hates being stuck inside. But she chooses to listen to him. The only reason I haven't left his cabin is because of Eleven.

She asks me to stay so I do. Sometimes I wonder if I should just leave. Even if she wants me to stay.

I clear my mind and put my hands palms down. I run my fingers through the grass and the Serenity lulls me to sleep.

———

"Hey." I'm being shaken awake by a soothing voice. "Sevyn wake up."

"Steve?"

"Hey. Why are you sleeping on the side of the road. That's dangerous." He helps me up by my arms.

"Is it?" It hasn't been.

"Yes. What are you doing out here so late? How did you get hurt?" I'm not hurt. I inhale but all I smell is his pain.

"I not hurt, you are." I inhale again but his pain is internal.

"You're bleeding." He touches my hand and I hum at his touch.

"Hearts broken. Your pain worse."

"Let me take you home." I feel a smile form on my face.

"I am home Steve."

"When you said you lived in the woods you meant that you lived in a house in the woods right?" Not anymore I refuse to return to Jim Hopper.

"No. Woods home."

"Woods aren't safe at night. There's predators ya know?"

"Safe in woods. Woods safe." I feel his hands make their way to my shoulders.

"How about you come with me? I'll take you home with me and I can fix your hand." I tilt my head. "There's still some of Nancy's clothes at my house. You could have a bath and get clean?"

"No."

"No to coming to my house of no to taking a bath?"

"No bath. Not safe."

"Okay what about a shower? I see the dilemma with a bath, if you're not careful you could drown. But with a shower the water drains as it comes. Does that sound better?"

"Yes." He helps me stand and leads me to his vehicle.

"Duck." He opens the door and I duck to get in. He leans over me before I hear something click.

He closes the door and I sense him going to the opposite side of the car. Soon that door opens and he gets inside.

The vehicle starts and the journey was quiet until I spoke.

"Why broken heart?" I hear him sigh.

"Me and my girlfriend broke up." I tilt my head.

"What is girlfriend?"

"Do you know what a friend is?"

"Yes. Is girlfriend a friend girl? I girlfriend?" I turn towards his presence.

"No. A-"

"We not friends?" I inhale his nervous scent. It's quite funny.

"We are! Bu-"

"I girlfriend?"

"Sevyn." I turn my attention back forwards.

"Yes Steve?" I don't want to be in trouble.

"A girlfriend is more than a friend. We can be considered friends since I'm helping you."

"Friends help each other?" I turn to his presence again.

"Yes."

"I help broken heart."

"You can't."

"Friends help each other. You need help."

"That's not how it works."

"I not friend. You lie."

"You are a friend. But to get over a broken heart I need space." I move closer to the door and hear him laugh. "Not physically. Mentally I need space from Nancy. It'll do me no good thinking about her."

"And physically?" He hums.

"I don't know. I've never had a broken heart."

"Physical space?"

"Things friends shouldn't do."

"I not friend. I girlfriend."