#yet operates from deep within the shadows

[age-of-moonknight]

“Slasher,” Moon Knight (Vol. 7/2014), #1.

Writer: Warren Ellis; Penciler and Inker: Declan Shalvey; Colorist: Jordie Bellaire; Letterer: Chris Eliopoulos

[redroomreflections]

II HANDS II HEAVEN

Notes: I listened to Beyonce's album and wanted to write something to this song

Summary: Natasha Romanoff and Reader reluctantly team up for a couples retreat mission. Despite initial resistance, they find themselves drawn together by unexpected circumstances and shared experiences.

Masterlist | General Masterlist

w/c: 4.5k

It will be like five chapters.

"Any leads on who's joining Natasha for the upcoming couple's retreat mission?" Steve's gaze shifted from the itinerary to the team gathered around him, his tone commanding authority.

"I believe Natasha's our primary agent for this one," Wanda replied, her head tilting in contemplation.

"Indeed, but it's a couples retreat, so we need another partner," Steve clarified, a slight frown creasing his brow. "Someone who can blend in seamlessly."

"Can I offer myself up for sacrifice?" Sam quipped, raising his hand in mock enthusiasm before quickly retracting it under Natasha's icy glare.

As the meeting progressed, you were drifting away, lost in your thoughts. It wasn't your first time excluded from the team's high-profile missions. They always cited your need for further training, claiming you could not work as a cohesive part of the team. But deep down, you knew it was just an excuse—an excuse to keep you sidelined while others got to shine.

You couldn't help but feel frustrated by the situation. You'd worked hard to hone your skills, to prove yourself worthy of being part of the team. Yet repeatedly, you found yourself overlooked, and relegated to the sidelines while others took center stage.

As Steve discussed the details of the upcoming mission, you couldn't shake the feeling of resentment that gnawed at you from within. It was a bitter pill to swallow, knowing that once again, you wouldn't be chosen to join Natasha on the mission.

Not that you particularly want to. You and Natasha aren’t exactly bosom buddies. You found yourself mostly keeping your distance from her. There was an unspoken tension between you, a mutual understanding to maintain a polite distance.

Instead, you gravitated towards Wanda and Vision, joining them for several movie nights. As a third wheel in their relationship, you often found comfort in their company, even if it served as a temporary distraction from your own frustrations.

Occasionally, you'd join Sam and the other guys for some lighthearted banter and training. But even then, you never found yourself alone with Natasha. She remained elusive, keeping her distance and maintaining her mysterious persona.

Despite the distance between you and Natasha, you remained focused on your own goals and aspirations. You refused to let her presence—or lack thereof—determine your worth as a member of the team. You were determined to prove yourself, even if it meant forging your own path separate from hers.

Joining the Avengers has been an exhilarating yet unexpected journey for you. It couldn’t be more different from your wildest dreams. The initiation process felt more like something out of a gangster movie than a superhero team induction. Three months ago, you decided to defect from the government organization you once served. Spectra Intelligence Bureau had built you up to do their bidding. Only to let you down time and time again. You had seen women come and go from the field, only leaving behind shadows of their former selves.  You hadn’t known so soon you would be following the same path. You joined the Avengers for a chance at redemption and freedom. But your defection was far from voluntary, despite what everyone else believes.

You had always been a skilled operative, adept at blending into the shadows and manipulating situations to your advantage. You were a master of espionage, trained from a young age to infiltrate enemy organizations and extract valuable information without leaving a trace.

But beneath the facade of a loyal government agent, you harbored a deep-seated resentment towards the organization you served. 

For years, you played by their rules, carrying out missions that blurred the lines between right and wrong, morality and duty. You became disillusioned with the endless cycle of violence and deceit, longing for a way out of the tangled web of lies you had woven around yourself.

Now, as a member of the Avengers, you keep your head down, wary of drawing too much attention to yourself. You know that the consequences of your past actions could come back to haunt you at any moment, threatening to unravel the fragile semblance of peace you’ve fought so hard to achieve.

“I volunteer y/n,” Tony said with a slight smirk. 

Tony's declaration draws your attention back to the meeting. His smirk doesn't escape your notice as he volunteers you for the mission with Natasha. It's a typical Tony move, laced with a hint of mischief and a touch of amusement.

You felt a surge of mixed emotions at his words. On one hand, you're grateful for the opportunity to finally be included in one of the team's missions. But on the other hand, you can't shake the feeling of apprehension at the prospect of working closely with Natasha, especially given your less-than-amicable relationship.

Still, you know better than to protest. This could be your chance to prove yourself, to show the team—and Natasha—that you're capable of rising to the occasion. With a nod of acceptance, you steel yourself for the challenges ahead, determined to make the most of this unexpected opportunity.

“Y/n and Natasha as a couple?” Bruce spoke aloud. “How would that work out?”

Natasha remained composed, her expression unreadable as she met Bruce's gaze. There's a flicker of something in her eyes—maybe surprise or curiosity—but she quickly masks it behind her usual poker face. She offers no comment, keeping her thoughts on the matter to herself.

Tony chuckled lightly, clearly amused by the idea. "Well, they do say opposites attract," he quips, flashing a grin in your direction. His tone is light-hearted, but there's a glint of mischief in his eyes, hinting at his underlying intentions.

From his side of the table,  Sam raised an eyebrow, a playful smirk playing at the corner of his lips. "Well, that should make for some entertaining mission reports," he quips, his tone teasing. 

Natasha's voice cut through the air, her tone firm and unwavering. "I need someone who's going to pull their weight," she stated, her gaze piercing as she addressed the team. There was no room for ambiguity in her words, each syllable laden with expectation and determination.

 "Well, I assure you, Natasha, I'm more than capable of pulling my weight," You replied, your tone cool but tinged with an edge of irritation. 

Natasha's gaze lingered on you for a moment, her expression unreadable. There was a hint of apology in her eyes, a silent acknowledgment of the unintended slight in her earlier statement. "I didn't mean to imply otherwise," she said quietly, her voice softening slightly.

“If we’re going to do this, I want to lead,” You turned away from her understanding gaze. Your competitive and cutthroat attitude had no business here but you were determined to prove a point. 

Natasha's response was measured, her voice carrying a hint of steel beneath its calm exterior. "I understand your desire to take charge, but this isn't about proving a point," she replied evenly, her gaze steady as she met your eyes. There was a silent challenge in her words, a reminder that leadership wasn't about ego or competition—it was about trust and cooperation.

You felt a surge of defiance rise within you, unwilling to back down from the challenge Natasha presented. "Maybe not for you," you countered, your tone edged with stubborn determination. "But I know what I'm capable of, and I'm not going to sit back and play second fiddle."

Natasha's expression softened slightly at your words, a flicker of understanding in her eyes. "I respect your confidence," she conceded, her voice tinged with a hint of admiration. "But leadership isn't about proving yourself—it's about putting the team first and making the tough decisions when they need to be made."

“Leadership is also knowing when to let go of the reins,” You shrugged. “Unless you’re wound too tight to do that?” 

Natasha's expression hardened at your words, her jaw tightening imperceptibly as she met your gaze with a steely resolve. "I may be many things, but 'wound too tight' isn't one of them," she replied, her tone cool and controlled despite the undercurrent of irritation that simmered beneath the surface.

There was a palpable tension in the air as the exchange hung between you, the unspoken challenge lingering like a storm cloud on the horizon. Despite your attempts to provoke a reaction from Natasha, she remained composed, refusing to let your barbs get under her skin.

"You may have your way of doing things, but don't mistake confidence for arrogance," Natasha continued, her voice quiet but firm. "True leadership requires humility and the willingness to listen to others, even when it's difficult. I can’t have you out in the field making mistakes."

You felt a surge of frustration at Natasha's response, the sting of her rebuke cutting deeper than you cared to admit. But beneath the surface, there was also a begrudging respect for her unwavering commitment to her principles.

As you exchanged one last tense glance with Natasha, a silent understanding passed between you. 

“I’ll do it,” You said. From the corner of your eye, you could see Natasha’s eyebrows shoot up. You had to admit you liked a challenge. This should be fun. Your declaration hung in the air, a bold assertion of your readiness to take on the mission. You could feel Natasha's gaze on you, sharp and assessing, as you made your decision known.

A faint smirk tugged at the corners of your lips as you met Natasha's gaze head-on. You liked a challenge, and this mission promised to be anything but easy. 

As the tension between you and Natasha lingered, a familiar voice broke through the silence. "Alright, let's get down to business," Steve's voice rang out, commanding attention as he stepped forward. 

With a glance at Natasha and you, Steve cleared his throat before launching into a rundown of the mission details. "The retreat is called 'Shady Corners,' owned by Ilanka and Maxim Belinsky," he began, his tone businesslike as he relayed the information to the team.

But before Steve could continue, you found yourself interjecting, unable to resist the urge to jump in. "Actually, I've already compiled a dossier on Shady Corners," you stated, your voice cutting through the air with confidence.

Steve paused, a hint of surprise crossing his features as he turned to you. "Oh, you have?" he asked, eyebrows raised in curiosity.

You nodded, a smirk playing at the corner of your lips. "Yes, I took the liberty of gathering all the pertinent information," you replied, producing a file from your bag and handing it to Steve.

As Steve flipped through the dossier, his surprise was evident. "Well, it looks like you've done your homework," he remarked, a hint of admiration in his voice.

Natasha's gaze flickered between you and Steve, a ghost of a smirk tugging at the corners of her lips. "Looks like we're in good hands," she quipped, a subtle acknowledgment of your preparedness.

“I would kill to be a fly on the wall,” Sam whistled.

Sam's remark drew a few chuckles from the team, his words laden with playful insinuation. 

Natasha's lips quirked into a wry smile, a hint of amusement dancing in her eyes as she exchanged a glance with you. 

"I have a feeling it'll be quite the performance," Natasha replied, her tone dry but tinged with a hint of something you can’t quite place. 

Tony's announcement brought a sense of finality to the meeting, his hands clapping together with a decisive clap. "Great, you'll have a flight booked for the morning," he declared, his tone brimming with anticipation. With a nod to the team, he declared, "Meeting adjourned."

The tension in the room dissipated, replaced by an air of excitement and anticipation. 

With a grin, you exchanged a final glance with Natasha, a silent acknowledgment passing between you. 

This should be fun. 

********

So this marriage was turning out to be something you’re not fond of. Natasha had J.A.R.V.I.S. wake you up at the ass crack of dawn which you were able to ignore for a long while. Then came the pounding on the door of your bedroom before you finally awakened from your slumber to open it. You didn’t even bother to wipe the drool from your chin before you ripped the door open with a frown. 

As Natasha stood in front of you, her expression bordering on disapproval, you couldn't help but feel a surge of annoyance bubbling within you. Her disdain for your choice of attire only fueled your defiance, and you squared your shoulders, refusing to back down.

"What?" you retorted, your voice tinged with irritation as you met Natasha's gaze head-on. "Flight is in three hours," she informed you, her tone clipped and businesslike.

You blinked in disbelief, the early hour registering belatedly in your sleep-addled mind. "You're kidding..." you muttered incredulously, turning to glance at the digital alarm clock on your nightstand. "It's three a.m."

Natasha's expression remained impassive, her gaze unwavering as she waited for your response. Despite the early hour and your less-than-ideal state of readiness, there was a steely determination in her eyes that took no argument.

With a resigned sigh, you realized that there was no use arguing with Natasha. 

"Come in, I guess," you grumbled begrudgingly, gesturing for Natasha to enter your less-than-impressive bedroom. It was far from the tidy, organized space you typically preferred, a reflection of your rebellious attitude toward your former living standards.

With a roll of your eyes, you strode over to your closet, rummaging through it to grab a suitcase. Meanwhile, Natasha remained near the door, her posture tense and guarded, as if she were bracing herself for whatever chaos might lie within your room.

You couldn't help but feel a bit of annoyance at Natasha's standoffish demeanor, but you pushed it aside, focusing instead on the task at hand. You began to toss clothes into your suitcase and prepared to leave. 

"We should maintain a few basic things between us," Natasha suggested, her tone matter-of-fact as she broached the topic of their fake marriage. "You know, for the sake of appearances."

You couldn't help but raise an eyebrow at Natasha's suggestion, a hint of skepticism creeping into your voice. "Such as?" you prompted, curious to hear her ideas on the matter.

Natasha paused for a moment, considering her response carefully. "Well, for starters, we should probably establish some ground rules," she replied, her gaze ripping from the dropped thongs you’d scraped up from the floor to toss into the hamper to your eyes. "Nothing too elaborate, just enough to sell the illusion of a real marriage."

You nodded in understanding. "Agreed," you replied, a sense of determination settling over you. “So quick to set up rules though. Shouldn’t we know more about each other? I mean, we’re supposed to be a married couple right.”

“I suppose,” Natasha sighed. “Is this going to turn into a 21-question thing?”

“No, not right now,” You shook your head as you zipped up your suitcase before you pushed it to the side. You grabbed another carry-on bag, stuffing your makeup and the rest of your toiletries inside of it. You disappeared into the bathroom where you quickly brushed your teeth and washed your face. 

This left Natasha alone to her vices. Though she never moved from her spot she noticed things only a spy would. Her eyes landed on the books haphazardly stacked on your nightstand, and one in particular caught her attention—the "Love Songs of W.E.B. Du Bois." The choice of literature spoke volumes about your intellectual depth and cultural interests.

Moving her eyes around the room, Natasha's eyes lingered on the movie posters on the walls. 

In the corner, she noticed a collection of paint easels. 

With each observation, Natasha's respect for you grew. There was more to you than met the eye. 

“Right now, I need coffee,” You mumbled as you dragged yourself out of the room and past her. J.A.R.V.I.S. would lock the door for you. 

“Seriously? “ Natasha asked asked incredulously, her voice cutting through the air as you hurried past. 

“You won’t like who I become when I’m hungry,” You rolled your eyes. If she was going to have you up this early, the least she could do was not judge your choices. 

You made a beeline for the kitchen, groaning as the harsh fluorescent lights automatically flickered on. Tony needed to update these settings for something dimmer and less jarring. Ignoring the discomfort, you forced a K-cup into the Keurig, desperate for the promise of caffeine to wake you up.

As you turned around, you were met with the sight of Natasha sitting at the counter, her gaze fixed on you with a fierce intensity.

"I hope you're going to take all of this seriously," Natasha said, her tone firm and unwavering.

You paused, meeting Natasha's gaze with determination. Despite your initial reservations about the mission, you knew that Natasha was right. This wasn't just a game—it was a high-stakes operation that required your full commitment.

"Of course I am," you replied, your voice steady despite the tiredness that still lingered in your bones. 

Natasha studied you for a moment longer, her expression unreadable. Then, with a nod of acknowledgment, she rose from her seat and joined you at the counter. Together, you prepared your coffees in silence, each lost in your thoughts. 

"You take it black?" You asked, tilting your head inquisitively as you prepared your coffee.

"What? Like my heart?" Natasha replied with a wry smile, her tone laced with a hint of humor.

You couldn't help but chuckle at Natasha's retort. "Fair enough," you remarked, handing her a steaming cup of coffee. "To black coffee and black hearts, then."

Natasha raised an eyebrow, a smirk playing at the corners of her lips. "To get the job done," she countered, clinking her cup against yours in a silent toast. “Now can we get to the airport please, before we’re late?” 

“Oh, we won’t be late. I want to enjoy this.” You hummed. 

It was then that Natasha reached up to remove the baseball cap from her head, her movements fluid and practiced. As she fluffed her hair, you expected to see her familiar luscious red locks cascade down her shoulders. However, to your surprise, the vibrant red was replaced by a cascade of blonde hair.

You blinked in astonishment, momentarily taken aback by the sudden transformation. How had she bleached it so quickly? Had she slept at all? Natasha's hair was iconic—her fiery red locks were as much a part of her identity as her skills as a spy. 

As you adjust to the surprise of her sudden hair transformation, you couldn't help but blurt out, "Whoa, blonde? I never would've guessed. You look... different."

Your words hung in the air for a moment, and you immediately regretted them as you noticed a subtle shift in Natasha's demeanor. Her smirk faded, replaced by a stern look that hinted at a simmering annoyance beneath the surface.

Natasha's jaw tightened imperceptibly, her green eyes flashing with a hint of irritation. "Different?" she echoed, her tone cool and clipped. "Is that supposed to be a compliment?"

You winced, realizing too late that your comment had struck a nerve. "I... I didn't mean it like that," you stammered, scrambling to backpedal. "I just meant, um, it's a change, you know? But you still look great, of course."

Natasha's expression softened slightly at your attempt to smooth things over, but the tension lingered between you. "Thanks," she replied tersely, her tone still tinged with annoyance. “We’re going to be late,” Natasha mumbled as she dumped the rest of her coffee into the sink. 

“We’re not going to be late.” You called after her. 

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

"So, you're telling me no more flights are heading to Miami today?" You asked the flight attendant, a hint of irritation coloring your voice.

"No, ma'am, unfortunately, we're booked up for the entire week," the flight attendant replied apologetically, her tone sympathetic.

You sighed, frustration mounting as you realized the setback to your plans. "Is there anything you can do? It's urgent," you pressed. 

The flight attendant shook her head regretfully. "I'm sorry, ma'am, but all our flights are fully booked. You might have better luck with another airline," she suggested.

You couldn't believe it. You can't believe it. Because you were late, your seats were given to some other lucky couple.

Frustration bubbled up within you as you stood there, watching helplessly as the plane doors closed without you. 

Natasha's sharp gaze bore into you, a silent reminder of the consequences of your tardiness. You knew you had messed up, and now you were paying the price.

"We need to figure out our next move," Natasha stated firmly, her voice cutting through the chaos of the airport.

"We could rent a car," you suggested, hoping to salvage the situation with a practical solution.

"And drive a car to Florida for twenty-three hours with you?" Natasha replied tersely, her tone dripping with sarcasm.

You bristled at her sharp retort, feeling a pang of offense at her implication. "Of course," you nodded, trying to maintain your composure. "Unless you have any other suggestions. Flying a Quinjet into Miami isn't exactly subtle of us."

Natasha's expression softened slightly at your response, a flicker of understanding crossing her features. "Fair point," she conceded, her tone less biting than before. "I’m choosing the car."

“Anything for you honey,” You shook your head, your voice dripping with sarcasm. 

Natasha shot you a pointed look. Apparently, nicknames were off the table. 

As you and Natasha approached the rental car lot, you expected her to gravitate towards something sleek and inconspicuous. So, when she pointed towards a sporty sedan with ample trunk space, you couldn't help but raise an eyebrow in surprise.

"Really? This one?" You asked, your voice laced with skepticism.

"Trust me," she replied cryptically, her tone giving nothing away.

“Okay, but you’re driving,” You tossed your suitcases in the trunk. 

“Why can’t you drive?” Natasha frowned. “You are the one that made us late.”  

You winced at Natasha's accusation, knowing she had a point. "Fair enough," you conceded, feeling a pang of guilt for your role in the tardiness. "But I'm exhausted from all the stress of the morning. Besides, you're the expert driver, remember?"

Natasha's frown softened slightly at your admission, but she remained skeptical. "Fine," she relented begrudgingly, sliding into the driver's seat. "But don't think this lets you off the hook."

“I wouldn’t dream of it, honey,” You grinned, pushing your sunglasses onto your face. 

Natasha shot you a withering glare at the nickname, her expression bordering on annoyance. "Don't call me that," she muttered shortly, her tone leaving no room for argument.

You raised your hands in mock surrender, unable to suppress a smirk at her reaction. "Got it," you replied, making a mental note to refrain from using any more nicknames in the future. “Can I call you baby?” You asked unable to resist pushing her buttons further. 

Natasha's expression darkened, her icy glare intensifying at the suggestion. "Absolutely not," she retorted firmly, her tone leaving no room for negotiation.

You chuckled softly, realizing you had crossed a line, but the temptation to tease Natasha was too strong to resist. "Just thought I'd ask," you replied with a shrug, settling back into your seat as Natasha revved the engine, ready to hit the road.

Twenty-three hours until Miami. -------> part 2

[jinwoosungs]

{ 148 }

tiptoe.

jinwoo sung x fem.reader

warnings: violence.

{ watch me fall above like a vicious dove | they don’t see me come, who can blame them? | never stopped to see me try, so i never had to lie }

you should have stayed home after all...

but how were you supposed to know that a group of rogue hunters were targeting you for the sole purpose of hurting your lover of 3 years-

sung jinwoo.

your day started out normal enough; you had gone into the city with plans to buy some groceries for the week. with your eyes solely focused on your phone as you wrote out your list from within your notes app. with jinwoo's shadow soldiers kept well hidden from inside your own shadow, you saw no reason to have fear or sense even an inkling of danger.

yet that all changes when you felt a particularly hard and blunt object smash into the back of your skull, sending waves of pain to course through your very veins as you lost consciousness. your face nearly lands against the harsh concrete of the sidewalk when your captors decides to capture you in their arms before bringing you back to their base of operations...

{ ... }

a group of rowdy men were seen within the abandoned warehouse, taking a drag of their cigarettes the moment their lackeys brought back your unconscious body.

with a grunt, the men toss your body against the concrete floors of the warehouse, your hair making a veil across your features as they remained hidden from the other hunters' view.

it was a scrawny hunter named seo-jun who decides to step forward while pushing up his glasses, looking down at your unconscious body. "do-yun, who is she? and why were you so set on capturing her?"

the leader, do-yun, flashes a smirk against the timid man, placing a hand on his shoulder, "why don't you admire her for a bit, then we'll have some fun with her..."

seo-jun gulps before making his way closer to you, curious as to who you were as the other men take a step back. his breathing was labored when he gingerly brushes back your hair. he sees the blood pouring from your head from how your body was suddenly dropped against the cold concrete floors of the warehouse, yet he couldn't deny how beautiful you still looked.

seo-jun knew that he recognized you, and when he finally realized your identity, he sharply inhales, feeling his blood turn cold at the mere sight of you.

"are you insane?! you captured the tenth s-ranker's lover! you just put a target on our heads-"

seo-jun feels his eyes widen when he sees your shadow lengthening, using his senses as he falls backwards, narrowly avoid the dagger that shoots out from the shadow.

he may have avoided the dagger, but the same couldn't be said for the men that had captured you. immediately, his eyes go wide when the blade lands within the base of his throat, the blood loss making him land with an audible 'thump!' against the ground.

seo-jun could already tell that the man was dead as his partner began to run out of the warehouse, fearing for his life. he couldn't move, feeling a sudden coldness surround him as the s-rank hunter appears from the depths of your shadows.

no words were spoken as sung jinwoo takes a protective stance in front of you, brandishing his two daggers in response as the ends of his trench coat sways in tune with his movements. do-yun and the rest of his crew didn't get a chance to even react when jinwoo moved so swiftly that it looked like he simply disappeared from seo-jun's eyes.

a wave of nausea hits him as the rest of his crew was left with a deep wound against their chests, a cut forming a large X over their chest as the deep red blood stains their cold, lifeless bodies. seo-jun nearly puked at the intense, coppery scent that fills the area.

"you." sung jinwoo's voice was filled with malice, wisps of shadows surrounding the entirety of his large frame the moment he takes great strides to reach the meek man.

"y-y-yes?"

"if you want to live, then heal her."

seo-jun nearly wet his pants in response to his demands, but eagerly nods his head, crawling closer to you as he placed a hand over your injured head. he allows the golden glow to surround you, with the wound disappearing as your breathing became less labored with pain.

he continues healing you until jinwoo's hand against the back of his shirt was felt lifting his lanky body away from you, tossing seo-jun's form aside as he lands against the harsh, cold floors with a grunt.

the impact causes his glasses to go askew as he sits up with a wince, watching jinwoo as he carefully lifts up your body within his embrace. his glowing eyes were filled with a love and devotion to you, and it was clear that he would do anything to keep you safe.

as seo-jun slowly gets back up to his feet, he hears jinwoo calling out your name before letting out a chuckle when you stir within his embrace.

"i'm in a good mood right now... i thought about killing you off, too, but ultimately decided against it because you healed her."

seo-jun didn't know what prompted him to speak with the hunter known as the shadow monarch when he continues to ask, "and, w-what would have happened if i wasn't a healer?"

jinwoo looks back at him with his eyes glowing a deeper purple. "then you would be left bleeding out with the rest of your crew."

the murderous intent was enough to bring seo-jun to his knees, filled with terror as he bowed down to him.

"i-i-i apologize for what we have done to your lover. please... continue to have mercy on me...!"

but his pleas fall on deaf ears the moment jinwoo ignores him, going towards the fallen hunters who planned to do unspeakable things to you. seo-jun glances behind him to see jinwoo tightening his hold on your body before speaking to those corpses.

"arise."

a sense of dread fills seo-jun's soul as jinwoo's dark voice echoes throughout the area, bringing forth 3 shadow soldiers who appeared like living skeletons as they floated away from their once living vessel. a smug expression was seen against the shadow monarch's features as he gives new commands to his newly formed soldiers.

"you all shall spend the rest of your life protecting my queen as punishment. this is only a small part of your retribution, do you have any objections?"

as if drawn to jinwoo, the shadows bow down to him without question, losing all form of autonomy as a new purpose filled them:

to serve sung jinwoo alone.

"no, my king. we shall serve you and your queen diligently. we are deeply sorry for our actions. please, forgive us."

with those last words, all three of jinwoo's newly made soldiers disappear within your shadow, making seo-jun shiver in response. he continues to remain on his knees, not daring to look up even when jinwoo passes him.

that man was no longer human, seo jun thought to himself as he kept his nose pressed against the ground.

for he knew that sung jinwoo was nothing short of a god now.

{ ... }

you let out a soft moan the moment you woke up, feeling like you had just fallen asleep.

your eyes were blurry when you look up to see jinwoo carrying you in his arms.

"hm? jinwoo...? what happened?"

he lets out a hum before looking down at you, lifting you up as he pressed a chaste kiss against your lips.

"hm, nothing much, you just got tired and fell asleep in a café."

you frown and tilt your head at him. "did i really? the last thing i remember was shopping for groceries-"

jinwoo immediately kisses you deeply just then, making you lose your train of thought as you moaned against his lips, kissing him back. almost instinctively, you delve your fingers into his soft, ebony locks of hair, basking in the sweetness of his kiss, not minding that he was purposely distracting you.

when the need for air proves to be too much, jinwoo pulls away from the kiss with a sigh, placing his lips against your forehead as he reassures you, "don't worry about it... now that you're awake, how about we go out to eat?"

"really?! we can go to..." you tell him the name of your favorite restaurant, earning a nod from him.

"yes, absolutely."

as jinwoo basks in your giggles while carrying you, you remain blissfully unaware of the three new shadow soldiers' eyes blinking up at you, now fiercely loyal to you-

you truly hadn't the slightest clue just how far the shadow monarch would go to keep you safe.

a.n. - yeah, that chapter where jinwoo beat up hwang dong-su for hurting jinho was still hot af to me, so i had to make my own version where he saves the reader from a similar situation ♡

all stories are written by rei; reposts, translations, and plagiarism are not allowed.

[enchantedbarnes]

Recommendations 💖

I've been wanting to do something with recommendations for ages now, but there's just too many to even know where to begin! Here's a chaos list of past and present faves 🥰

Completed fics

Undisclosed by @pellucid-constellations

Pairing: Lumberjack!Bucky x Reader

Summary: Desperate to outrun a secret that could cost you your life, you seek refuge in a small mountain town. Its deep forests and small cabins make it the perfect place to hide, but the travel website hadn’t mentioned anything about the quiet, burly lumberjack that wouldn’t leave your thoughts. No one had warned Bucky about you either. 

Lumpy and Bunny masterlist by @sweetdreamsbuck

Pairing: beefy lumberjack!bucky x f!reader

Summary: Bucky's never been so scared of a feeling in his life. there are too many what if's– too many fears bubbling deep within the parts of him left broken and hollow, untouched for far too long. but he never envisioned finding you– and he's entirely too impatient; entirely too certain no one's ever been more infatuated with something than how he feels for you.

Sweet and Sour by @sashaisready

Pairing: Bucky Barnes Mob AU x Femme Reader

Summary: You're hard at work in Pepper's Bakery when notorious mob boss James 'Bucky' Barnes darkens your doorway one typical afternoon, and life is never the same again.

While you're over there you might as well check out ...

Under the Radar by @sashaisready

Pairing: Nick Fowler x reader

Summary: Reader is a brilliant but shy and awkward CIA employee whose work is often overlooked by her colleagues…she’s blended into the background for so long that she doesn’t think there’s any other way - even if she does have secret aspirations for another life. Unbeknownst to her - a certain blue eyed agent is very aware of her talents, even if nobody else is.

The Thrill of the Hunt by @rookthorne

Pairing: Scare Actor!Bucky Barnes x F!Reader

The ancient game of cat and mouse, a fight for survival between a predator and their prey, wasn’t a new phenomenon – it had been practised for centuries and it was an art that very, very few perfected. For years you had chased the craving to find someone that had mastered the art of the hunt, and for Halloween, you had gone all out and visited a haven unlike any other.  It was there that you found your match.  Cloaked in nothing but black and shrouded in a sense of lethality, you would have to run from this shadow in an adrenaline fuel haze unlike any other. A chase for the ages, the very one you desired.  And if he caught you, your world would end as you knew it.

The Lookout by @mymoonagedaydream

Pairing: ParkRanger!Bucky x y/n

Summary: It was amazing, really, how quickly one person managed to turn your dream job into a living nightmare.

Paring: Beefy and Teacher! Bucky x milf! reader Summary: Bucky doesn't play favorites but Amaya is definitely his favorite, especially because her mom is hot.. Cue a 6-year-old trying to get Bucky to be her dad.

Operation get Mr Bucky and Momma together by @golden-barnes

Worst Idea Ever by @firefly-in-darkness

Pairing: Y/N & Bucky Barnes, Other Marvel Characters.

Summary: Wedding Season is brutal as it is but throw in two friends that decide to be each other’s plus ones and a mixed bag of feelings, what's the worst that could happen?

Classylo's masterlist

home for the holidays by @classylo

When your family begs you to come home for the holidays and to bring the new guy you’ve been seeing, you don’t have the heart to tell them your good-for-nothing-ex cheated on you… good thing your roommate is available and will do absolutely anything you ask.

should've been you by @classylo

He was supposed to meet you at the game. He was supposed to be the one you went on a date with. He was the one you were supposed to fall in love with. Yet, here you are three years into a relationship with another… it should’ve been him, not his best friend.

Moral of the Story by @justkending

Summary: From childhood friends, to highschool sweethearts, the two naive, young, and lovestruck teens decided the best way to keep a strong relationship during college would be to marry right out of highschool. No one batted an eye at the idea as everyone knew they were soulmates. However, college is a big step in a person’s life. You learn new things about yourself, you make new friends, find new hobbies… And maybe being newly weds and going to different colleges across the states wasn’t the best plan… After a falling out, a tragic and heartbreaking divorce, the two now despise the other for how the whole thing was handled. Neither not really knowing both sides of the story. 10 years later, and they both get a call from the lawyers office that settled their divorce. Somehow the papers never went through and the divorce was never completed. So now, the exes, or should we say husband and wife, have to meet back up after all these years to settle their failed marriage once and for all.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Everest by @justkending

Summary: She was done and retired. After Thanos and the battle of a lifetime, she called it quits and distanced herself from the Avenger lifestyle. But word finds her that someone from her past is in danger. What the journey entails was never one she wanted to face nor one she saw becoming her reality again. The rollercoaster that comes with fighting evil odds arrives on her doorstep, not leaving much room for a no… Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Coming in Hot by @nexusnyx

When your best friend Sarah recommends you a mechanic of her brother’s trust, all you can think about and pray to is that he doesn’t rip you off. Your car is your prized possession and amidst all the worry and concern of your medical studies, drowning in even more debt sounds as suffocating as it would be. Of course, you never thought of the possibility of the mechanic being the problem. A hot, polite, gentle, and silent-type of problem. Drowning in debt would be easier to navigate than the blue of Bucky Barnes’s eyes.

Pairing: Mechanic Bucky x Reader

Though I Have Never Read by @tuiccim

Pairing: Winter Soldier Bucky Barnes x Female!Reader Summary: You had run away from all of your problems and found solitude in a cabin in the middle of nowhere. When a storm blows in, it drags a man with a metal arm through your door. Offering shelter, you spend one night together before he disappears. Years later, you find yourselves together again but does he remember that night or you at all?

Blink Twice by @simmerandwrite

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x reader

Summary: It was just an undetermined amount of time in a safehouse with a stranger: Bucky “I didn’t come here to make friends” Barnes himself. Would it really be all that different from your lonely life with your cat in the city? Bucky was basically a cat, anyway. He was quiet on his feet, only really made noise when it was dinner time, and you both seemed to just coexist without acknowledging each other. His mandate was to keep you safe. What could go wrong?

teach me how to love by @buckyismybicycle

Pairing: DAD!BUCKY X TEACHER!READER

Natasha leaves behind her precious daughter, Yelena, and with her dying breath asks Bucky to look after her.

Sweet by @noceurous

summary: it was something cliche but your fuck buddy fell for you nonetheless, even though you swore you would never do relationships again. But rules are meant to be broken.

call me when you want by @bonky-n-steeb

summary: when you call a sex hotline with a need to be dominated you don’t expect to meet (or hear) someone as wonderful as James. but your life becomes a complicated mess as you already love your coworker, Bucky Barnes. however, you are unaware that they are actually the same person.

Part 1 & Part 2

Grow Old With Me by @sonderosa

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x F!Reader

...you could wait fifty years if he asked it of you. You’d promised him that, and he’d smiled and kissed you, told you that in fifty years he wanted to be old with you, sitting on a porch in rocking chairs and watching the sunset. You wanted that, too; it was a beautiful dream.

Pairing: Mechanic!Bucky x Fem!Personal Assistant!Reader Summary: It's your first international trip working for bestselling author Tony Stark as his new personal assistant, and you're desperate to prove yourself worthy of such an incredible opportunity. But when things start to go wrong whilst staying in Dublin, and suddenly you're stuck in the middle of the Wicklow Mountains with a flat tire, you're convinced that you'll be fired before the day is over. Luckily, a handsome, blue-eyed mechanic with an accent that makes your insides melt comes just in time to save the day.

Sweeter Than Honey by @foreverindreamlandd

Their other series are also *chefs kiss* -> go read the rest of @foreverindreamlandd's series

Love at First Grade by @buckysimp101

Pairing: Single Dad!Bucky Barnes x Single Mom!Reader;  Teacher!Bucky x CEO!Reader

Summary: When father and first grade teacher Bucky Barnes ends up with Avery L/N in his class, the daughter of the “ruthless” CEO of L/N Enterprises, he's in for a surprise that's sure to change his life.

Teacher's Favorite AU by @suitk0via

Pairing: Dad!Bucky x Teacher!Reader

Summary: You are first grade teacher and Bucky is a single dad who wants to be involved with everything his little girl - Elaine - does. He’s the dad all the parent’s and faculty drool over. You quickly become Elaine's favorite teacher and Bucky's just gotta meet you.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x F!Reader

The Heart is a Deep Ocean by @dreamlessinparis

Summary: Titanic was known as the ship of dreams. For you, it was the dream of getting home, or so you thought. From the moment you locked eyes with James Buchanan Barnes, all those dreams changed and your life was never the same.

Pairing: ex-military amputee!Bucky Barnes x fem!Reader

Something Domestic by @fandoms-writings

Summary: Needing an escape from the loud and busy city life, Bucky comes to stay with you on your little farm. He didn’t expect you, a hardworking and beautiful woman with struggles of your own, to take his breath away and make life a little less dreary.

Labyrinth by @frostironfudge

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female!Reader, (Modern AU)

Summary: labyrinth (noun), a complicated set of paths and passages, through which it is difficult to find your way. Bucky and You would do anything for Steve and Wanda, your respective best friends. In an attempt to avoid a tradition Steve and Wanda come up with a lie involving their best friends.  A lie, that involves building a labyrinth. Bucky and You begin to build but will you two find your way out or be caught in it?

nostalgia for the new by @real-jane

pairing: bucky barnes x female!reader shield agent

summary: bucky meets you because of your exquisite taste in music, and he finds in you a solace he didn't realize was possible. you create for bucky something he's never found before: nostalgia for a time that hasn't happened yet, and hope for a future where he might be loved.

Ongoing fics

Honey Girl by @violentdelightsandviolentends

Pairing: Dad'sBestFriend!Bucky Barnes x Female Reader - soulmate au

Summary: The Universe shows you your soulmate when it feels like you need them most. When you least expect it, you're given yours - Bucky Barnes. Your Dad's best friend. You can try to refuse it all you like; but the universe wants what it wants. There's no denying fate.

After all those years by @ziawbarnes

Pairing: AU Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Summary: Peggy and Steve's wedding in Mexico takes an unexpected turn when you and Bucky, who initially couldn't attend, end up joining the celebration. With no available rooms, Bucky becomes your roommate for ten days, leading to unexpected adventures and new connections.

Fresh Start by @nicoline1998enilocin (on hiatus but I love)

Pairing: Teacher!Bucky Barnes x Female!Reader

Summary: In this universe you can explore the story between Bucky Barnes as a middle school teacher, and Y/N with her son Luca. They just moved to the other side of the country, and have decided to completely start over their lives. On the first day at his new school, Luca quickly befriends his new teacher, and Y/N can't help but take a liking to him as well.

A Past Encounter by @majesty-madness

Summary: Being in a relationship with Bucky, Y/N prided herself on knowing him quite well but when she’s accidentally teleported back to the 1940's, Y/N discovers that there is a whole other Bucky that she has yet to meet. The sweet flirt that had everything going for him before his unfortunate capture by HYDRA.

Neighbors by @writerlyhabits

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x female reader

Summary: You get to know your neighbor across the hall, James.

Unexpected by @repressedqueen

Paring: SexWorker!Bucky x reader

Summary: After a crazy night out celebrating your birthday, somehow you ended up outside a brothel debating on whether it was time for you to finally have sex or not.

My Little Love by @crazyunsexycool

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Enhanced Fem! Reader

Dr. Feelgood by @endless-summer-soldier

pairing: Surgeon!Bucky x SurgicalIntern!Reader

summary: Y/N has a one night stand with a handsome stranger the night before starting her new job as a surgical intern. Little does she know, the handsome stranger also happens to be her new boss

Pairing: Teacher!Reader x Single Dad!Bucky

Untitled Single Dad!Bucky Fic by @angie-likes-to-art

Summary: You made a promise to yourself to not sleep with any parents before starting teaching, little did you know the guy you slept with two days before is the dad of your cutest student.

Too much love to choose from, here's some creators with masterlists you need to check out! ❤️‍🔥

@navybrat817

@jobean12-blog

@coffeecatsandcandles

@metalbuckaroo

@wkemeup

@nickfowlerrr

I love and appreciate all of you 💕 thank you for all your hard work 🥰

Happy Reading!

XO

(Dividers by saradika)

RECOMMENDATION LIST #2 CAN BE FOUND -> **HERE**

[scuttlingcrab]

Assuming cambions can get drunk, one way or another, how about a thingy following Raphael's perspective as he wakes up after being drunk only to find himself wrapped in the arms of his little mouse (whom he is definitely not pining for even a little bit /s), even though he knows for a fact he hadn't brought her here? They are both clothed and Tav is still asleep. As Raphael tries to recall what happened the night before, he faintly remembers that Haarlep or Korrilla brought Tav to him then left... and after Tav helped/convinced him to go to bed, she turned to leave and- Oh... He grabbed for her wrist and begged asked for her not to leave, for her to please stay with him. What would he do next?

I'm slowly making my way through all the brilliant prompts folks are sending and having a blast. Thank you so much for this one, really hope you enjoy! x

Summary: Raphael wakes up with a hangover, only to find Tav sleeping on his chest. He desperately tries to make sense of the entire situation.

Hangover from Hell

Raphael floated in darkness, completely void of any sound or sensation. In a flash, a red glowing orb appeared before him, leagues away, floating patiently. A light buzzing accompanied it, echoing around him. Raphael tried to move his head, a hand, something, but he remained stagnant.

The glowing orb increased in brightness, growing bigger as it approached Raphael. He tried to shout, to scream, for anyone, anything, but no words, no whimpers, escaped his mouth. His body pulsed and throbbed the more the orb got closer, a sharp heat radiated from where his chest would've been. The buzzing intensified as the orb’s shape grew more distinct, pointier, growing horns. 1, 2… 5 horns, each with their own red glowing sphere, almost as if it resembled… 

The void vanished, yet his head still throbbed, matching the irregular rhythm of his heart. Thump, thump, thump, thump, thump. It felt like an orthon, or another savage infernal beast, was attempting to rip his head in two. He clenched a fist, his fingers touching a smooth, cold surface. He opened his eyes, but was immediately blinded by bright lights, stinging deep within his retinas.

He could feel himself spinning, losing control, no matter how hard he grabbed on to the ground for stability. Was he bested in battle? Poisoned? Did Raphael’s dear father finally catch a whiff of his meddlings? He had been careful, calculating, operating from the shadows, never revealing too much, never saying too little to even Harleep during their intimacy. What went wrong? This is not the end, he will make it to the finale. He will not be made a fool! 

He opened his eyes again, the light less piercing as he began to make sense of his current surroundings. Familiar objects populated his vision; wooden wardrobes, ornate windows, sparkling marble floors… the Devil’s Den. He was lying on the floor, his body inches from the bed. His clothes were damp from sweat, yet his skin was burning.

Raphael grumbled as he attempted to roll over on his side but his movement was restricted. Something was latched onto him, sinking into his chest. He looked down, only to find a fully clothed mortal woman… no, not any woman, Tav, snuggled into his chest, her dainty little fingers held him close. She slept soundly, as if he was a sorry substitute for a pillow. 

Raphael’s eyes narrowed, he hastily dug through the recesses of his memory, trying to cling on to anything from the night before to make sense of this bizarre predicament but could find nothing, only fuzziness. 

He sprang up in exasperation, desperately trying to slither out of Tav’s embrace. The broiling rage that had been growing in his chest was instantly extinguished by the onslaught of vertigo. The room whirled faster and faster, chaos encircling him. Raphael gritted his teeth to keep himself from tipping over. Enough! Foul creatures and their disreputable games! 

Raphael viciously snapped his fingers and the ailments faded, his mind slowly became clearer, the ground beneath him stilling. Tav was seemingly unaffected by Raphael’s movements, continuing with her slumber. His body began to tremble as he watched her.

He would prefer to have been bested by Mephistopheles, chained and tortured repeatedly in the confines of his icy prison in Cania, than find himself in this demeaning state. How far he had fallen, so disgustingly low, sharing the same ground with these mortals. 

Raphael snapped his fingers again and Tav teleported to the bed, her posture unchanged. Free of that creature. He rose to his feet, steadying his balance. In doing so, he caught sight of himself in the mirror across the room and growled. He was barely identifiable. His usual pristine hair, ever so slightly slicked back, was tangled and matted against the back of his head. His clothes were bedraggled, as if he had pulled them from an unholy wreckage. 

“Bah!” He screamed, clapping his hands together as if to destroy an insect. The action restored his appearance but his pride was still damaged, so badly chipped he wasn’t sure if he would ever recover; no spell could make him forget this.

His eyes fell on a large circular table nestled in the corner of the room. One chair had fallen over and the other was pushed aside, left askew, as if done in haste. Empty shot glasses littered the top of the table, too many to tally without immediately losing count. Two empty bottles of whiskey lay discarded on the floor.

Raphael leapt towards the table, picking up a bottle, a few drops of bright yellow liquid sloshed about at the bottom. Raphael brought it to his nose and shivered as the scent elicited a memory: Korrilla handing him the bottles with a wink as she left his chambers. Red Whiskey. He should have known. One of the finest and deadliest spirits to be exported from the Hells. A single shot of this could leave even the most powerful infernal creatures on their backs and without their wits.

He glanced at Tav on the bed. And it would surely prove deadly to any mortal. But Tav wasn’t just any creature, she was chosen. Yes in truth by Raphael for his own nefarious purposes… but as he stood there gaping at the creature, there was an impatient little tadpole swimming around her brain; waiting for metamorphosis. Perhaps that is why she was not currently lying dead on his marble floors? How she didn't choke on her own vomit in her sleep? That would have been a far more preferable sight than finding her head resting on his chest. Another thanks owed to the Elder Brain.

He pounded across the room like a caged animal as he began piecing together the events. No matter how hard he focused, he could only fish out fragments, mere images.

Tav meekly knocking on his door. Raphael leaning back in his chair, nursing a shot of whiskey in his hands, grinning. What should have been an easy win. Tav, sitting opposite Raphael, her face flushed, eyes glazed over as she rested her elbows on the table. Tav attempting a game of five-finger-fillet, nearly chopping off a thumb. Raphael’s vision cloudy, watching as Tav stumbled towards the door, a searing pain in his chest as he reached out to her...

Raphael dug his nails into his palms, drawing blood. He grimaced as he held his arms by his side. These memories, they were all false, soured by the infernal whiskey. Merely exaggerations. His neverending chase for the Crown had caused his imagination to run wild, too wild. He needed to tame his thoughts, that was the only explanation. Raphael would see it no other way. 

Last night’s antics were merely strategic.

[myster-roca]

Desires and Deception: Full Undercover

"Your assignment: Assume the identity of a high-profile businessman and fitness guru with deep connections to the underworld elite.

Your objective: Infiltrate a high-stakes bodybuilding event where one of the underworld's most influential figures, deeply involved in a clandestine affair, is about to take center stage. A complete physical transformation is your only cover."

On the surface, his existence seems so different from mine. He's deeply entrenched in the world of luxury, surrounded by the glitter and glamour of the upper class.

I lead a life of shadows and secrecy, a chameleon in the backdrop of society. While he basks in the spotlight, I thrive in the darkness.

Yet, as I become more familiar with his life, I realize that beneath the facades, we're not so dissimilar. We both wear masks, albeit of different kinds.

He portrays an image of power and wealth, and I craft identities to delve into the hidden realms of espionage. We're both performers, navigating the stage of our own making, just on opposite sides of the curtain.

Within the covert operations division, our team constituted a rare breed, masters of disguise, each possessing an exceptional talent for the craft of metamorphosis.

We shared an unspoken bond born from the countless secrets we held and the trust we placed in one another.

The intricately crafted muscle suit lay before me like a silent partner in this clandestine masquerade. I'd done this countless times before, but the excitement and tension of the moment never ceased to grip me.

This moment brings a complex blend of emotions to my entire body.

There's the weight of responsibility, knowing that I must seamlessly become another person, thinking, speaking, and moving as they do.

But there's also the thrill of the challenge, the adrenaline rush that comes with immersing myself in a persona utterly distinct from my own.

As I slipped into the suit, the material stretched and molded to my physique. My hands found their way to the attached silicone gloves. The snug fit accentuated every contour, making me look more sculpted than ever.

My team of ingenious innovators had left no stone unturned to make the muscle suit as lifelike as humanly possible. Their unwavering dedication shone through in the meticulous attention to detail.

My pulse quickened with anticipation as the muscles subtly inflated, intensifying the illusion of strength and confidence.

With every stroke, the skilled hands erased my facial hair, and I could almost sense a new identity taking shape.

The skintone had been impeccably matched, with the paintwork skillfully blending the boundary between reality and artifice.

I marveled at their exceptional precision as they carefully placed the snow-white silicone prosthetic skin onto my scalp, deftly concealing the intricate details at the rear.

Each brushstroke they applied infused the blank canvas with a spectrum of shades and tones, gradually merging it with the flesh-colored muscle suit.

The cap clung to my scalp, obscuring any hint of my natural hair. Their unparalleled expertise accomplished an astounding feat, vanquishing visible seams and ensuring a flawless integration with the rest of the suit.

As I rose to my feet, I could feel the muscles discreetly swelling, enhancing my size and making me appear more imposing. Enthralled by this transformation, I locked my gaze onto the mirror, realizing that, except for my own face, the reflection before me resembled that of a complete stranger.

The next phase was even more unsettling. I couldn't help but feel vulnerable, yet excited, as I closed my eyes and immersed myself in embodying the fitness guru's charisma and unwavering drive for power.

Seated before the vanity, I felt the cool touch of silicone on my skin. With each prosthetic piece, I watched myself morph into the figure whose aura and allure I admired and now emulated.

My own features were vanishing, slowly replaced by the chiseled jawline, pronounced cheekbones, and the perfectly shaped nose.

Each adjustment, every little tweak, brought me closer to becoming the fitness influencer I needed to become.

The transformation has reached its halfway point, yet I can't shake the persistent unease that lingers within me. Something feels awry, lacking in authenticity.

This void echoes the emptiness I've felt in past impersonations. The team is well aware of this predicament, which motivated them to develop a new technology aimed at resolving the issue. Although they conducted numerous beta tests, this marks the first field trial.

I stood from my chair and began to don the silicone muscle pants, preparing myself for the next step.

The pants appeared remarkably sophisticated, quite different from the silicone muscle pants I had initially envisioned. Nevertheless, the team assured me that this unique design was intentional, tailored to fulfill its specific purpose.

As I settled into a sleek, state-of-the-art machine, they assured me that it would serve as the catalyst for the forthcoming comprehensive transformation. The team then delved into an explanation of the pants' fabric and the silicone prosthetic pieces they had attached, emphasizing their integration with nanites.

They elaborated on how these minuscule marvels were precisely programmed to discern the unique contours and characteristics of my body, thereby enabling the seamless fusion of the material with my own skin. This intricate process would ensure an astonishingly lifelike and untraceable metamorphosis.

The machine enclosed around my waist with a gentle yet firm embrace. I could feel its mechanisms hum to life as it began its work. A warm, viscous liquid began to flow from the machine's hidden nozzles, gently cascading down my legs and torso.

The sensation was unlike anything I had ever experienced. It was as if I were being submerged in a pool of liquid silk. I watched, my heart racing, as the substance encased my legs and torso. It was as if the nanites and the liquid skin were in perfect harmony, dancing a choreography that was breathtaking to experience.

The machine released me, and I fell forward, landing on my hands and knees. The ground was cold and unforgiving, a stark contrast to the heat that surged within me. As I struggled to regain my footing, I realized that I was sweating, my skin tingling with life.

My skin glistened with sweat as the nanites engulfed my whole body. My senses were on fire as the second skin adapted to the shape of my own body, molding itself to me with an almost sentient understanding. I could feel the air against my skin as I breathed deeply, savoring the newfound sensations.

I stood on my feet, and a tidal wave of power surged through my veins—a breathtaking rush of unearthed strength that sent shivers of exhilaration cascading down my spine. I was utterly captivated by the profound transformation I had undergone.

It was as though this second skin had reshaped the core of my existence. It was no longer just a disguise; it had become a part of my own being.

Overwhelmed by curiosity and newfound confidence, I couldn't resist the urge to explore my transformed physique.

As I flexed my thighs, I could feel their utmost solidity, the sensation of unyielding strength resonating through my body. My legs, once unassuming and lean, now bore the weight of sculpted power.

Running my hands across my chest, I felt the hard contours beneath my fingers, swelling with a sense of pride. My pectoral muscles were now pronounced and firm. I couldn't resist running my fingers over the chiseled ridges of my new washboard abs.

With each movement, I admired the pronounced biceps and triceps, each muscle responding to my command. Flexing my forearms, the veins stood out like a roadmap of my uncovered power.

I had truly become the living embodiment of the role I was about to play.

With the transformation complete, I am reborn in the shadows, ready to dance into the abyss of intrigue and danger, playing my part in a game where trust is a currency of uncertainty, and the truth remains veiled forever.

To Be Continued . . .

[theyhavetakenovermylife]

Shadows Entwined: part 7

BatmanVsTmnt!Leonardo x sidekick!reader

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 / Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Bonus (18+)

-----------

A/N: Finally it's here! Part 7! It’s been a long time coming. If you aren’t sure what the hell is going on, it’s okay. A lot is happening. I’m literally trying to follow the happenings of the movie as I write.

-----------

After the whole ordeal with Scarecrow in the boiler room, you, Leo and the rest of the crew, find yourselves facing down a much bigger enemy.

Warnings: Spelling, loooong, fighting, many details, MANY Batman villains, Joker venom and ooze, mutant Batman, mentioning of getting hurt, and worst of all - Joker and Harley DPA.

The reader and the turtles are 19.

---------

When Batman said the halls of Arkham Asylum was like a maze, he wasn’t kidding. The halls went on for miles, with sudden strange turners and twists, along with unnecessary staircases that lead up, only to lead directly down again. Leonardo could not help but wonder what kind of mad man would build a place like this. This place could surely not help anyone, but only make them more sick.

Leo couldn’t help but notice the uneasy look in your eyes. With every door and every turn you seemed on edge, your shoulders tense and your stance ready for anything. Leo appreciated the fact that you were looking out, making sure that your surroundings were safe before moving forward. Yet Leo could not shake the horrible fear he had felt while being infected with the Scarecrow's fear gas. The way you had looked at him, fearing him, begging him not to look at you. Every fearful look you threw down Arkham’s dark halls reminded him of that. How you had feared him, and how he had almost hurt you in his pursuit to make you look at him.

Batman seemed to move down the halls with urgency and determination. Leo followed closely behind you and the gloomy vigilantly. In the short time he had known you and your father, Leo had learned that while in Gotham, it was best to follow Batman’s orders. Leonardo didn’t find the thought of the bat knowing the halls of Arkham to be strange, and by the way he turned every corner, it seemed as if he did just that. Batman knew Arkham, and he knew it well. You on the other hand was a different story. Until today, you had never even been past the iron gates of the asylum, reason being that Batman never allowed you anywhere close to that madhouse. And by the way Batman seemed to cover you, making sure the coast was clear, it was obvious that he still didn’t like it. Leo couldn’t blame him. He too felt a certain nervousness whenever he looked at you, the fear of anything hurting you nagging on his insides.

It didn’t take long before Batman led you to a door deep within the dark halls of Arkham, far away from any windows or other signs of the outside world. A quick wiggle of the door knob told you that the door was locked, prompting Batman to step forward. Batman bursted the door open with a firm kick and a loud bang. All three of you found yourselves in a big circular room, with a sky light at the very top of the high ceiling, and doors lining the curved walls. It was the lightest room you had been able to find in all of Arkham, yet the atmosphere was heavy with foreboding darkness and dread, flowing from the very walls. You knew exactly what room all three of you found yourselves in - the operation theater.

In the middle of the circular room was a nurse and a security guard, hunched over and placed upon the knees, their heads covered with a burlap sack, a smiley drawn onto the fabric. Cries and whimpers could be heard from under the sacks, along with pleas for help. Just behind them stood Two Face, in his signature two colored suit, with a golden gun in his hand pointed down between the two hostages. You gasped at his deformed appearance, with two cat-like heads growing out of the same neck, along with two tails growing out from his back.

“Glad you could join us, Bats”, Two Face’s right head said, a smug self satisfied smile placed upon his mutated face.

“You’re just in time for the coin toss”, the left head said, holding up a coin for all of you to see.

Leo grabbed the hilt of his katana, only for Batman to stop him, putting his hand out in front of him. The look upon his face was stoic, hard to read. “Wait”.

Leo was about to protest. Sure, he knew to listen to Batman and trust his order - he had been going so all the way through Arkham, so why shouldn’t he now? But Leo could not stand by and let two innocent lives get killed, just because Batman wanted him to wait. He opened his mouth, ready to speak his mind, when he felt your shaking hand grab onto his arm, your eyes staring up towards the balcony at the opposite end of the operation theater.

“Better listen to the bat, turtle boy”, sounded a strangely maniacal voice, followed by a hiss. If Lel had hair, it would be standing up straight. He could not explain it, but there was just something about that voice that made his stomach tighten in discomfort.

Slithering onto the balcony, a white snake wearing a purple suit jacket, along with what looked like a green mohawk. “Take it from me. One reptile to another”, it laughed, its voice echoing against the wooden walls.

“Joker”, Batman growled, his fists tightened as he readied himself, you and Leo following his lead. “Where’s Ra’s al Ghul and Shredder?”

Joker faked a gasp, throwing his hands dramatically into the air, acting offended. “That’s it?! Where’s Ra’s? Where’s Shredder? Huh! Why not; Joker dearling, I love what you’ve done with yourself”, he said, laughing once more before he dramatically threw himself against the balcony railing, feigning a hurt look and a disappointed voice. “Honestly Bats, I’m hurt”.

“Aw”, Harley Quinn's voice sounded as she made her way onto the balcony, stroking the snake's head with her paw. “Don’t pout pudden”, she said in an overly sweet voice, that only the Joker could find attractive. “I love your scales”.

“I go through all this trouble, and it’s like he doesn’t even see me!”, Joker cried, the back of his hand pressed against his forehead.

“You work so hard”, Harley said, bringing Joker’s face to look at hers, before she once again started stroking his head. “You’re my workingist Joker!”

Joker hummed in delight as Harley started rubbing her snout against his.

“I imagined I would see many horrible things when I walked in here”, you mumbled to Leo and Batman, your face grimacing in disgust. “But this is even worse”.

You just managed to finish that sentence when one of the other doors to your left slammed open, letting Robin, Raph and Mikey storm in, weapons ready in their hands.

“Hey! We made it!”, Mikey smiled, only to turn toward the balcony, just in time to see the tongue slapping Harley and Joker had started going for, along with the most unholy sounds any of you had ever heard. He gagged with a shiver. “Ew! That’s… weird and gross. Leo!”. He turned towards the blue clad turtle at your side. “Don’t get any good ideas from this!”

Leo’s only answer to Mikey’s comment was a slight snarl. He knew damn well what Mikey was hinting at, and once all of this was over, he would surely make his little brother pay for that comment.

It didn’t take long before Raphael noticed the two hostages kneeling down at the feet of Two Face.

“It’s the hostages!”, he yelled.

“Wait for my signal”, Batman said, but Raph had already started running.

“Nuts to that! It’s rescuing time!”, the brute yelled.

“Raph!”, Leo yelled, pulling out his katana as he started running after his brother. You were ready to run for Leo. Maybe you would run with him, aid him in whatever way possible, or maybe you would stop him. But before you could do any of that, Batman pulled you back with a firm hand on your shoulder, using the other to pull a bat star from his belt.

Two Face growled as he started to open fire upon the two turtles that were charging upon him. The two ninjas dodged the bullets with ease, weaving left and right, sais and katanas ready in their hands.

Batman threw the bat star, aiming it directly at the opening of Two Face’s golden gun. It flew through the air, before boring itself into the opening. Two Face looked at the gun in confusion, just managing to get a look at bat star before Raph was upon him, knocking him to the floor, using the hilt of his sai. Then he and Leo turned to the two hostages.

“Stop!”, Batman yelled as Raph started to pull the sack off the security guard. “Joker always has a trap”. But Raph did not listen. He pulled the sack off the head of the security guard, only to be met by a cassette player, playing cries and whimpering on a dying loop. Neither Leo or Raph got to react to the sudden twist of events, before a flickering blue light and a sizzling sound emerged from the fake security guard. Raph and Leo screamed out in pain, feeling their muscles contract under the eclectic shock.

“No!”, you yelled, trying to run forward once more, only for your father to pull you back, this time so hard you almost fell over.

“Whups!”, Joker exclaimed, bringing a hand up to his mouth, faking a shocked and embarrassed expression, before wiggling a red remote button in his other hand. “Did you think those were hostages? Guess the jokes on you! Hahaha!”

Leo and Raph fell to the floor, Leo’s katana clinging as it hit the ground. With a maniacal laugh, Harley leaped from the balcony, swinging her mallet over her head, aiming for the two groaning turtles. Your heart was beating and your mind was racing as you reached into your belt, pulling out two heavy balls, connected by a rope. Ignoring your father’s protests, calling for you to stay behind him, you flung the balls in her direction. They flew through the air, sending Harley to the ground as they hit her with a sudden bark of surprise, the weight of the balls hanging bound the rope around her. She growled and started biting at the ropes as you, Batman, Mikey and Robin ran in for action.

Two Face rubbed his left head, before slowly standing from the ground, gun still in hand, eyes burning at the four heroes that came his way.

“You had your chance”, his right head mumbled.

“My turn”, his left head roared, pulling out yet another gun from his suit. With both guns in hand, he started opening fire upon you, focusing his attention on the two youngest of the group. Mikey squealled, him and Robin dodging the bullets as they ducked for cover behind the wooden railing of seating up above, the bullets leaving holes in the ground as they went.

As the chaos started, Harley finally managed to bite her way through the ropes, leaping for you and Batman with the mallet in her hand.

“You!”, Harley yelled, her eyes burning holes against your mask. “Did daddy bring you along to work today? To show off some new tricks for the turtle boys? Too bad, because I did not like it!”

She got ready to swing her mallet at you and Batman, only to get interrupted by the intuition of polar bear, breaking through the door Raph, Robin and Mikey had emerged from, breaking the door frame as he went through.

“Is that Mr. Freeze?”, you asked in surprise and fearful awe, taking in the size of the white bear as it stood on its hind legs.

“Seems like it”, he mumbled back.

“Batman!”, he grumbled, his red eyes staring down upon him, his freeze gun buzzing in his paw. “Just the flying rodent I wanted to kill!”

You and Batman jumped out of the way, just before the ice beam could get to any of you. Mr. Freeze almost seemed to have forgotten your existence, focusing his gun on Batman, following him around the operation theater. You turned, just managing to duck as Harley’s mallet was swung for your head.

“Long time, no see, (H/N)”, she smiled, continuously swinging her mallet as you dodged. “Time we catched up, don’t you think? Now tell me girly, how’s the love life going?” She laughed, having as much fun as a child playing Whack in an arcade.

From the behind the railing of the seating, Robin and Mikey came out from hiding, seeing Batman being chased down by Mr. Freeze.

“Oh right. That guy”, Mikey said, annoyance dripping from his voice.

“Rematch?”, Robin asked.

“Rematch”, Mikey agreed, before the both started running down the curve of the seating aisle, getting behind Mr. Freeze before jumping upon him. The polar bear started turning and roaring wildly, trying to throw the two boys off of his shoulders.

“He's winning again!”, was the last thing Mikey got to yell, before he and Robin was thrown to the wayside, hitting the wall before passing out next to Raph and Leo.

Your attention behind caught by your flying brother, you did not react fast enough for Harley’s mattel, the force of her swing throwing you across the room, before landing in the pill of the others, right next to Leo, feeling your body ache all over.

Batman was stunned. Seeing his two children lying unmoving on the ground, he was easily caught off guard by Harley’s mallet, pinning him to the ground.

“Just stay down, Batsie!”

Batman growled before kicking her off of him. She screamed as she fell back, landing hard on the ground. Batman turned over on all four, getting ready to stand up, but the sudden ice beam of Mr. Freeze’s Freeze Gun had frozen to the ground in a kneeling position.

Joker started crawling his way from the balcony, down to the middle of the operating theater. “See Bats, isn’t this a fun change of pace?”, he said, crawling down over the seat railing and along the ground. From your position on the ground you could hear it all. Your aching body hurting with a slight fear, but your eyes were locked on the unmoving Leo. “Me, you, the city, its villains - oh, we were in such a rot”, he sighed, before holding up a glass tube of neon green liquid. “But this ooze, uh, is really shaking things up!”

“Leo”, your soar voice whispered, your hands finding his shoulder, lightly shaking him. “Wake up”.

“I made a deal with old knife head and demon head. They gave me some of their wonderful ooze to play with, and in return, I gave them the formula for my Joker Venom”, he laughed, pulling out a syringe of neon pink liquid, before pouring the green liquid into the syringe with the venom. “Turns out, if you combine the ooze with my little thingsur, you get something new, huhuhu! Something that not only transforms you!”, he continued, circling the icy lump that contained Batman. “But drives you made, hahahaha”.

“Leo!”, you gasped, trying a little louder, your hand tapping his cheek. “Please wake up, Leo! Please wake up!”

“Of course it’s a difficult concoction to make in large doses”, Joker continued, making his way right behind Batman. “But I only have enough for-”. He grabbed onto Batman’s head, plunging the syringe into his neck. “-one!”

The liquid disappeared into Batman’s neck. He started yelling out in pain, while Joker started laughing maniacally.

Finally Leo opened his eyes as he stirred awake, groaning as he started to get up. Never before had that color of blue brought you so much relief, but that relief was soon gone, as your father continued to scream out in pain.

“(Y/N), what’s going on?” Leo asked you as Raph groaned beside him. You would have liked to spend a moment, admiring the way he continued to use your real name, but you could not. Not with what was going on in front of you.

The last door in the room’s right side slammed open, missing Robin by an inch, revealing Batgirl and Donatello.

“Glad you could come”, Robin groaned, rubbing his head. “We didn’t interrupt your snugging, did we?”

Batgirl was ready to rip Robin a new one, but was interrupted by the screaming of pain and Joker’s laughter. “Uhuh”.

Batman’s eyes started to turn yellow, his skin darked to dark sickly gray, his teeth became longer and his mouth widened. The ice around him broke apart as his body grew in size, making the fabric of his costume rip. His hands and feet grew, claws tearing holes in his gloves and shoes. He arched his back outwards, wherefrom a pair of dark bat wings shot furth. His wings opened up, before he shot up towards the sky light, with a high pitch roar that made you cover your ears.

“A bat Batman?”, Mikey asked awestruck, staring up at the flying creature above you. “That’s-!”

“No, Mikey!”, you yelled at the orange clad turtle. “It is not cool!”, you snarled, causing Mikey’s head to retreat into his shell momentarily.

The mutant bat suddenly plunged down towards the ground, snatching Two Face off the ground with a sudden force. The villain screamed in confusion and terror as he swung through the air, before Batman flung him out of a stained glass window.

“Wasn’t Two Face on our side?”, Harley asked, slightly concerned, turning to the clapping Joker for some clarification.

“Who cares?!”, Joker exclaimed with a big smile. “It’s not about side! It’s about selling the joke!”

He and Harley laughed, finding the whole ordeal amusing. Mr. Freeze on the other hand, did not. The polar bear shut at the bat, only to have the beam of his Freeze Gun being blocked by the bat’s large wings. With a snarl, the bat broke the beam, launching downwards.

“Impossible”, Mr. Freeze mumbled in shock, watching as Batman flew straight towards him.

The bat flew directly at him, the floor breaking underneath them, sending dust up into the air. Bang after bang, the floors gave in as they fell down through the levels of the asylum, horrible sounds emerged from the hole. Slashing noises and the tortured screams of Mr. Freeze echoing through the levels.

Robin pushed past you, aiming to get a better look at the hole Batman had just disappeared through. As Robin moved closer to the hole, your big sister instincts kicked in. You pushed past Leo, and just as you stood behind your little brother, the large creature flew up from the hole, landing just in front of the two of you, just a few centimeters from Robin, leaning over the ground on all four. You shivered. Robin looked so small and weak in front of the large bat. But your ever brave brother did not move. He stood his ground before the creature, determined not to let fear get him. Instead he moved closer, calling out for the man that he was before.

“Batman?”, Robin asked, moving in closer, watching the creature. The bat huffed and puffed air in and out, remaining silent in front of the boy. “Father?... Are you there?”

The creature roared at Robin. You managed to grab a hold of him, just as Leo pulled the two of you back to a safer distance. You felt Robin’s hand tighten around your arm, as your own tightened around Leo’s.

“I don’t think Batman is home right now”, Leo said, just before he quickly moved all three of you away from the bat’s wild claws as they swung out after you.

Batman snarled in your direction before setting upon you in a chase. He didn’t get far however, before Raphael jumped onto his back, trying to push him down to the ground using his weight. But the bat stood up, before shooting up in the air with Raph hanging screaming from his shoulder. They started flying around under the sky light, causing the Joker immense enjoyment.

“Haha! He’s a bat monster after my own snake heart”, he said, bringing Harley in for a hug.

Raph was thrown onto the ground before Mikey started running in for action, only to be chased around by the flying bat.

Donnie, thinking quickly, turned to Batgirl. “The anti ooze!”

"Retro mutagen!”, she corrected him, pulling out the dark filled with the yellow liquid. “It’s right here, but it’s untested! It could kill him!”

“If he escapes and too much time passes, this change would be permanent, right?”, Leo asked.

“Right”, the two purple clad scientists answered in unison. You were sure to bring that up for Batgirl later.

“Then we don’t have a choice”, Leo said, taking the anti ooze from her hand.

“What’s the plan?”, you asked, ready to do whatever to bring Batman back to normal.

“You stay here and keep your brother safe. I’ll take care of it”, he answered, before jumping up onto the railings.

Robin sighed and crossed his arms, catching your attention. “Your boyfriend is no fun”.

“He’s not my boyfriend!”

From the railing, Leo watched as Mikey ran around, the bat following closely behind him, waiting for them to get closer.

“Sorry I wore your hat!”, Mikey yelled as he ran past Leo, giving him the opportunity to jump onto the back of Batman. Here he straddled the back of his torso, getting ready to stab him with the dart.

“Hold still!”

But as Leo’s hand moved down, Batman caught his arm, before using his wing to throw Leo off of him, sending the turtle rolling across the ground, dropping the dart in the process. Leo crawled after the dart, reaching his arm out, only for Harley’s mallet to be slammed down over his hand, causing him to yell out in pain.

“I’ll take that!”, she smiled. “Don’t want you ruining our fun!”

Just as Leo was ready to jump at her, a roar sounded behind him, followed by the claws of Batman’s hands closing around his ankles. Leo yelled out as Batman started flying around with him, hanging upside down.

“Leo!”, you yelled out.

“Right, that’s it”, Raph grumbled. “We’ll get Leo, you’ll get the anti ooze”, he said gesturing towards you and your bat family.

“Got it”, Batgirl said.

As the turtles sat upon Batman, you, Batgirl and Robin set your aim on the mutant snake and dog, who stood laughing at the show in front of them. That laughter died out as Joker felt the flat Batgirl’s boots against his face.

“Look who it is”, Harley laughed out loud at the sight of you and Robin. “The Boy Wonder. Papa really brought the whole family in for this! Looks like you-!” Her words were sharply cut off, when Robin kicked her mallet up with his boot, causing it to slam against her face. Shocked and confused, she wasn’t prepared as Robin descended upon her, punching as if her snout was a punching bag, making her drop the mallet down beside her. You once again wondered if you should have pressed Batman harder on the idea of sending your brother to therapy back in the day.

Once he had on the ground, he reached for the anti ooze, only for her to snap out at him, her sharp teeth almost getting to him. You ran for them as Harley started pushing Robin away, only for her to kick you back. Batgirl too tried to come for your rescue, but got captured by Joker’s sneaking tail, bringing her to him as he started rubbing his palms together.

“Let’s see what kind of venom I got in these fangs”, he snickered, showing off his long sharp teeth. “Shall we?” Joker leaned closer to her, giving her enough space to kneel him straight under the chin, making him chump his teeth together. Confused and dazed, Joker loosened his grip on her, letting Batgirl headbutt him.

Robin fumbled around the hand that pushed against his face, before biting down on one of Harley’s fingers. She yelped and let go, giving Robin just enough time to grab the anti ooze. But as soon as his hand was on the dart, she was on him once again, pushing his face down into the dirt.

“What are you gonna do now, wonder boy?”, she laughed, putting pressure on him as he squirmed, forcing his face down harder. “Daddy is not here to help you anymore! Hahaha!”

Growling, you grabbed a hold of Harley’s mallet in a firm grip. “No, but I am!”, you yelled, making the mutant hound look at you. “Don’t you touch my little brother!”, you called out, slamming the mallet against Harley's face. She yelped like a dog, letting go of Robin. “And for the record, my love life is great!”, you yelled, before swinging the mallet at her once more. Donnie and Leo just managed to catch a glimpse of it, Leo feeling his heart flutter a little with pride.

“Okay, I see why you like her”, was all Donnie said, before dodging one of Batman’s claws.

“Batgirl!”, Robin yelled out from the, throwing the anti ooze her way. Batgirl, as skilled as she was, managed to get out of Joker’s snake grip, and was now forcing his mouth open from behind, before she managed to catch the anti ooze. Donnie saw the way Leo looked at him, a knowing look in his eyes.

“Not a word!”, the purple clad turtle grumbled with a lifted finger.

“Donnie!”, Batgirl yelled out, causing the said terrapin to turn to her once more, before catching the anti ooze she threw in his direction. At the same time, the large bat winged creature flew down from above, grabbing Mikey before he flew away.

“Mikey!”, Donnie yelled, throwing the anti ooze one last time at the screaming and hollering turtle. Mikey fumbled around a bit before he managed to catch the dart with both hands, starting up at the bat above him.

“Batman, if you die from this Batman, please don’t become a bat ghost and haunt me”, Mikey begged, before swinging himself up onto Batman’s shoulders, stabbing the dart into his chest.

The creature let out a sound of shock and pain before flying around in circles. Mikey jumped onto his back, standing as if he was surfing through the air, down towards Joker and Harley.

“Cowabunga!”, he yelled, jumping off just as Batman flew into the two villains, sending them all flying into the balcony, before it fell apart, wood and debris falling around them on the ground. Batman laid convulsing on the floor, roaring out as he moved onto all fours. You once again felt Robin grabbing onto your arm, his fists tightening around you. You did the same with Leo, unable to move your eyes from the scene in front of you.

It all happened so fast. Once on all four, the bat wings retracted, quickly reducing in size before disappearing back into his skin. His skin returned to normal and his claws retracted. Before you knew it, Batman laid on the ground in front of you, flat on his stomach and his clothes torn.

“Did it… work?”, Mikey asked, fearful of what he might have done to the dark knight.

Donnie calmly stepped forward, holding onto Batman’s wrist, checking for his pulse. It didn’t take long before a smile appeared on his green face. “I think he’s gonna be okay”.

Robin breathed a sigh of relief, letting go of your arm. You too could feel yourself ease up, leaning against Leo as you let go of the breath that you did not know you were holding. Leo’s arm found its way around you, softly stroking the middle of your back.

“You saved him”, your brother said, turning towards the youngest of the turtles. “Thank you”.

Mikey looked at the boy for a moment, his words settling in, before his face turned into a bright smile, picking Robin up in a tight hug, almost choking the poor boy.

“Please stop!”, Robin pleaded, unable to move his arms.

From the rubbles of the balcony, the Joker slowly emerged, pushing the unconscious Harley aside, before he slowly started slithering over the floor, looking for the nearest door out of the operation theater. He didn’t get far however, before he ran straight onto the boots of Batgirl.

“Eh…”, he said, looking up at her from his low position on the ground. “Hello, Batgirl, uh… Lover your boots”. Batgirl did not answer. Instead she just lifted her foot, smashing it down onto Joker’s face. He fell flat onto the ground, with all of his teeth falling out like dominos. From here Batgirl pulled him up by the hair, holding a phone up in front of them.

“Smile!”, she said, clicking the button on her phone, taking a selfie of her and the knocked out toothless snake, him laughing weakly at the phone.

“Please send that to me”, you chuckled, as Leo started asking Donnie where he and Batgirl had been, while Mikey and Robin started carrying Batman out. “It will look great on my memory wall”.

“Batgirl and I found the surviving hostages in a room down stairs”, he explained. “They’re fine…” His eyes narrowed slightly. “Mostly”.

Leo nodded. “And now that we know that the anti ooze works, we can give it to the Gotham Police so they can get these inmates back to normal”. But then he started thinking, his blue narrowing. “But if Shredder and the Foot aren’t even here…”

“... Then this whole damn thing was just a giant distraction!”, Raph yelled, slamming his fists together.

[rascal-xo]

Living in the Shadows | CoD Series | Two

Pairing - TF141 x Female Reader (Callsign Dagger)

Romantic Pairing: Simon Ghost Riley × Female Reader

Series Warnings: Violence, SMUT, Language, ANGST, Gore, Smoking

Chapter Summary: You’ve met the 141, but your new mission pairing with a certain Lieutenant threatens hostility.

Part One: Here

As you approach a door marked with fading Arabic writing, Soap pushes it open, revealing a dimly lit space filled with anticipation. 2 figures are seated around a large table, their eyes focused on the holographic display projecting mission details.

"Captain, I found our special guest." Soap announces, gesturing towards you.

You enter the room, meeting the intense gazes of the iconic soldiers you've heard so much about. Captain Price, with his weathered face and piercing eyes, nods in acknowledgement. Gaz, a steadfast presence, offers you a warm nod. And then there's Ghost, the enigmatic figure shrouded in mystery, whose eyes seem to hold the weight of a thousand secrets.

"Good to see you, Sergeant. Take a seat." Price says, motioning to the empty seat at the table.

You oblige, settling into the chair next to Ghost. The room is filled with a charged silence, the anticipation almost palpable.

Captain Price clears his throat, his voice commanding the room's attention. "We have a critical mission coming up—a high-risk extraction operation deep in enemy territory. Our objective is to retrieve a high-value target who possesses crucial intelligence that could turn the tide of this conflict."

As the details of the mission unfold, you lean in, your focus unwavering. The complexity of the operation becomes apparent, with numerous potential threats and contingencies to consider.

"This mission requires specialized skills and adaptability." The captain begins to say. "From now until the time of the first leg of the mission, you all will be paired up for training."

Captain Price's words hang in the air, and you can sense the weight of the impending mission settling upon each member of the team. The room is filled with a mixture of anticipation and determination, as everyone absorbs the gravity of the task ahead.

As the briefing concludes, Captain Price looks around the table, his gaze meeting each team member's eyes with unwavering confidence. "We'll begin specialized training sessions immediately," he declares. "Ghost, Dagger, you two will be paired up due to your similar combat specialties."

You glance at Ghost, hoping to catch some indication of his thoughts. His eyes remain hidden behind the mask, his demeanor unreadable.

Over the following days, the training sessions intensify. You and Ghost are pushed to your limits, honing your skills in synchronization, stealth, and precision. Despite the grueling exercises, Ghost remains stoic, barely uttering a word. It's as if he operates in a world of his own, carrying his own burdens.

As you navigate obstacle courses, engage in close-quarters combat, and practice coordinated movements, you start to admire Ghost's prowess. His movements are swift and calculated, his instincts razor-sharp. There's no denying his skills, and you find yourself pushing harder to match his level of excellence.

However, Ghost's silence and occasional distant demeanor begin to wear on you. Over the various training courses you barely talk unless its strictly training based. You wonder if he truly respects your abilities or if he simply tolerates your presence.

During a break in your sparring session you notice Ghost, as usual, stands at a distance, seemingly lost in his own thoughts. Frustration bubbles within you, and a determination to break through his silent façade takes hold.

Summoning your courage, you approach Ghost, still catching your breath from the activity before. "Ghost," you begin, your voice steady, "Am I doing something wrong?"

Ghost turns his head towards you, his eyes concealed behind the mask. His response is curt, yet tinged with an underlying sense of emotion. "You're doing fine, Sergeant."

His vague reply frustrates you, but you refuse to back down. The tension between you has become palpable, and you yearn for some form of understanding. Gathering your thoughts, you press further.

"If I'm gonna be going into the death zone with you, we might as well skip the awkward lack of pleasantries." You let out a dry laugh.

Ghost's masked face remains inscrutable as he meets your gaze. There's a flicker of surprise in his eyes at your directness, but he doesn't respond immediately. The weight of the silence settles heavily between you, and you can't help but wonder if you've overstepped some unspoken boundary.

After what feels like an eternity, Ghost finally speaks, his voice low and measured. "We're getting off task." His words hang in the air, leaving you slightly deflated. It's not the answer you were hoping for, but it's the only one he offers.

You take a moment to gather your thoughts, realizing that Ghost's reserved nature might be more deeply ingrained than you initially thought.

With a tinge of disappointment, you decide to accept his response for what it is. You can't force someone to open up, especially not when the mission takes precedence. Ghost's skills and expertise are undeniable, and the team's success hinges on your ability to work together

if he won't talk, then neither will you, you decide as you take your stance on the sparring mat once again coming face to mask with him.

Main CoD Taglist: @pukbadger @fiveshelmet @myguiltypleasures21 @madamemelaninn @emmaadlerrichtofen1 @swissy23 @thatchickwiththecamera

Series Taglist: @glitterypirateduck @swissy23 @emotion-no-hot-yes-hotel-trivago @ner-dee @your-antares-universe @kittyoonsstuff @deadbranch @thriving-n-jiving

A/N: Hope you enjoyed chapter 2! Stories starting to establish itself so now I can get into all the fun action packed stuff :))

[dontyouworrydaddy]

Hi! new follower here! I really, I mean really love your writing!!

If asks are still open can i request 141 + LV, Konig & Horangi x GN!Civvie!Reader?? I know this might be cringe,,

(You can delete this if asks are closed!!)

Civvie!Reader is a happy person but is also depressed but secretly takes Prozac? (Also known as Happy Pills, if i'm not wrong) They don't know about it because they go on missions for like months and stuff,, but they get suspicious of her because Civvie!Reader acts strangely?? How will they react if they found out Civvie!Reader takes happy pills??

Also, please take your time and take care of yourself!!! 💖

H A P P Y H O U S E

Task Force 141 (+König, Horangi & LV) + gn! reader

AHHHHHH. Thank you so so much🥹🥹 I really appreciate your kind words 💘 I love this idea so much because I also do take meds to calm my anxieties and continue living a "normal" life. I love this ask sm, thank you for requesting it :) I hope you love this❣️❣️ Have a wonderful day <3

P.S: This wasn’t cringe at all🩷 Feel free to send anything you want without any second thoughts <3

P.P.S: I had to use google translate for the spanish words so I‘m sorry if there are any mistakes 😅 Correct me if I wrote something wrong <3

✧༺♥༻∞　　∞༺♥༻✧

König

König returned from another intense mission, a mix of exhaustion and adrenaline coursing through his veins. You awaited his arrival, a subtle smile playing on your lips despite the hidden battles within your mind. And you’re really good at hiding it because not even a soldier knows about your secret.

The two of you had built a connection that transcended the chaos of König's missions, finding solace in the moments you shared.

As König settled into the room, he noticed a subtle change in you. Your normally vibrant energy seemed to be not there and a shadow lingered behind your smile. Unbeknownst to him, you navigated the depths of depression, relying on a secret source of solace – the Prozac you secretly took.

Months passed, and the suspicion grew like an insidious seed in König's mind. The observant operative couldn't shake the feeling that something was off with you, the person he cared for deeply. Yet, the nature of his missions kept him away for extended periods, leaving a void where questions were left in his mind. Was it just you going through a phase or is it just a bad month for you?

One day, as he returned from a particularly grueling mission, the atmosphere between you two shifted. König's piercing gaze met yours, seeking answers veiled behind your eyes. Sensing his unease, you attempted to deflect, keeping the shadows of your struggles hidden.

However, the walls of secrecy could only hold for so long. König, driven by concern and a deep-rooted connection, pressed further, demanding the truth "Schatz, please tell me why you’re acting off these days? Is there something wrong? Did I do something wrong?" . Your heart raced as you hesitated, contemplating whether to expose the truth about the Happy Pills that kept your internal storms at bay.

With a heavy sigh, you confessed, explaining the battles fought in silence, the pills as your silent rises. The revelation hung in the air, a delicate balance between vulnerability and the strength that kept you going.

König faced a moment of internal conflict which was very unlikely for a soldier like him. His commitment to duty clashed with the newfound knowledge of your struggles. The air thickened with tension as he absorbed the weight of your revelation.

With a steady hand, König reached out, offering support in a way only he could. The revelation became a turning point, fostering a deeper connection that transcended the chaos of missions. This was not just your mission but also his.

Simon Riley

You radiated happiness in your everyday life. The laughter that echoed in your shared apartment seemed to drown out the chaos of the world outside. Unbeknownst to Simon, beneath your cheerful facade, you struggled with a persistent darkness that only you knew too well.

Months passed, and Simon's returns became less about the joyous reunions and more about the subtle observations. He noticed the moments when you seemed lost in thought, your laughter a bit too forced, your smiles not reaching your eyes. Concern etched across his face as he began to piece together the puzzle of your shifting demeanor.

One evening, after a particularly challenging mission, Simon returned home to find you sitting on the couch, staring into the void. The apartment, usually filled with the sound of your laughter, now felt heavy with an unspoken tension.

"Hey," Simon greeted, concern etched on his face. "Is everything okay?"

You hesitated, battling the conflicting emotions within. "Yeah, just a tough day, you know?"

Simon nodded, recognizing the weight of their shared profession. "You can always talk to me, you know."

As the weeks passed, Simon's concern grew. The distance between you widened, and the moments of joy became fleeting. One day, unable to bear the weight of your secret any longer, you decided to share the truth.

"Simon," you began, your voice wavering. "There's something I need to tell you."

His piercing blue eyes met yours, urging you to continue.

"I... I'm taking pills, for my depression…" you confessed, the words heavy with vulnerability. "It helps me cope, especially when you're away for so long."

Simon's expression shifted from confusion to understanding. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"I didn't want you to worry," you admitted, tears welling up in your eyes. "I wanted to be strong for you, for us."

He sighed, reaching out to gently cup your face. "You don't have to carry this alone. Remember our vows to each other, y/n?"

John MacTavish

Months passed, marked by the silence of lonely nights and the constant hum of worry that clung to your thoughts. When Soap returned, his presence was a comforting storm that swept through the apartment. You welcomed him with a smile, hiding your internal struggles behind a façade of joy.

Yet, the missions took a toll on you, and Prozac became your silent ally. It was your lifeline, a small pill that held the power to lift the heavy fog that sometimes clouded your mind. As the days unfolded, Soap grew more observant, sensing subtle shifts in your behavior.

One evening, after a particularly challenging mission, Soap's gaze lingered on you as you sat on the edge of the bed, lost in your own thoughts. He sat down beside you, his eyes reflecting concern.

"You've been acting strangely, love. Is everything alright?" he asked, his voice a gentle inquiry.

You hesitated, the weight of your secret pressing against your chest. "Yeah, just... a bit tired, you definitely know what I‘m talking about, no?"

But Soap was perceptive, his military instincts attuned to the slightest deviations. "It's more than that, isn't it? You can talk to me, you know."

The words hung in the air, and you felt the weight of the truth pressing against your lips. This time your heart is talking instead of your brain. Because your heart has had enough.

"I... I've been struggling, Johnny. It's hard when you're away for so long. I just wanted to be the happy person you deserve."

His expression softened, understanding dawning in his eyes. "You don't have to pretend with me, love. We’re getting married in 2 Months. Stop pretending please."

You took a deep breath, the secret threatening to spill out. "There's something else," you confessed, and with shaky hands, you revealed the pill bottle. "I take these... for the low days. To stay afloat when you're not around."

Soap's brows furrowed as he processed the revelation. "Why didn't you tell me?"

You looked down, guilt and fear intertwined. "I didn't want you to worry. You have enough with the missions.This shouldn’t be another mission for you."

He gently lifted your chin, his eyes locking onto yours. "Love, your well-being is my priority. I want to be there for you, through the good and the challenging times." Johnny embraced you, the warmth of his presence

"We'll face this together," he murmured.

John Price

In the living room, John sat on the couch, cleaning his trusty M1911. You joined him on the couch, a book in hand, but your gaze was distant.

Price noticed your mood change. Concern etched across his rugged features, he gently asked, "Everything okay, love?"

You managed a smile, a facade you'd perfected over time. "Just tired, love. You know how it is."

He studied you for a moment, a war-hardened man with a keen eye for subtleties. "You've been different lately. Something on your mind?"

The weight of your secret pressed on you, but you dismissed it with a casual shrug. "Just the usual stress. Nothing I can't handle."

John , however, was not convinced. He set aside his gun-cleaning kit and turned to face you, his eyes locked onto yours. "You can talk to me, you know that, right?"

Your heart ached with a mixture of love and guilt. "I appreciate that, really, but some things are better left unsaid."

———

One evening, as Price returned from a particularly grueling mission, he noticed the pill bottle peeking out from your bag. His expression shifted from exhaustion to concern and worry. "What's this, love?"

You hesitated, caught off guard by the discovery. "It's just something to help me cope. No big deal."Price's eyes bore into yours, searching for answers. "Coping with what, exactly?"

Torn between honesty and protecting him from the harsh reality, you sighed. "Life, John. It gets heavy sometimes."

He sat down beside you, his rough hand finding yours. "You don't have to carry it alone. Talk to me."

And so, the conversation unfolded—a delicate dance between confession and reassurance. "I wish you had told me earlier," he admitted, his thumb brushing over your knuckles. "We face enough demons out there. Let me help you battle the ones within."

Kyle Garrick

Kyle, fresh from a lengthy mission, entered the apartment he shared with you. The scent of your favorite coffee filled the air, but something seemed off. As he approached, he noticed you sitting on the couch, staring into space, a faint smile playing on your lips.

"Hey, love. Missed you," Kyle greeted, wrapping his arms around you. You leaned into the hug, but there was a distant look in your eyes.

"Missed you too, Kyle" you replied, your voice lacking the usual enthusiasm.

Concern etched across his face, Kyle sat down beside you. "Is everything okay, love? You seem a bit... off."

You sighed, hesitating for a moment before opening up. "I've just been feeling a bit down, but nothing serious. Just life stuff, you know?"

His brows furrowed with worry. "You can talk to me about anything, you know that, right?"

"Yeah, I know," you said, forcing a smile. "I just need some time to sort things out. It's nothing you need to worry about."

Over the next few days, Kyle couldn't shake the feeling that something was amiss. You became more withdrawn, and he often caught you staring into space, lost in your thoughts. Finally, unable to contain his concern any longer, he gently broached the subject.

"Baby, I can't help but notice that you've been acting a bit... different. Are you sure you're okay?"

Your heart raced, but you maintained your composure. "I appreciate your concern, Kyle, but I promise it's just a rough patch. I'll get through it."

Despite your reassurances, Kyle's concern lingered. One evening, he accidentally stumbled upon a small prescription bottle while searching for something in the apartment.

"What's this?" he asked, holding up the Prozac bottle.

You froze, your heart pounding. "It's just... something to help me stay balanced. Don't worry about it."

His expression shifted from confusion to understanding. "You've been taking Happy Pills? Why didn't you tell me?"

"I didn't want to burden you with my problems, especially when you're out there risking your life on missions," you confessed, avoiding eye contact.

Kyle gently lifted your chin, making you meet his gaze. "You're not a burden, You. We're in this together. I want to be there for you, no matter what."

Tears welled up in your eyes as you finally let your guard down. "I didn't want you to see me as weak or incapable of handling things."

Kyle hugged you tightly. "You're not weak, and taking medication doesn't change how strong you are. I just want to support you, okay?"

Horangi

You sat on the couch, anxiously twirling a strand of your hair as you waited for Horangi to return from his latest mission. You were grateful for the moments you shared when he was home, but the weight of your secret lingered like a shadow.

Horangi finally walked through the door, a weary but triumphant smile on his face. He dropped his gear by the entrance and moved towards you, pulling you into a warm embrace. "Missed you," he murmured against your hair.

"I missed you too, Horangi," you replied, managing a smile despite the persistent unease within you. The balance between the joy of his return and the fear of your secret being exposed was a constant struggle.

Horangi began to notice subtle changes in your behavior. Your laughter didn't ring as true, and the spark in your eyes seemed to flicker at times. This evening, he caught you staring into space, lost in thought.

"Is everything okay, love?" he asked, concern etching his features.

You looked up, forcing a smile. "Yeah, just tired from work, you know?" It was a half-truth, one you had repeated countless times. The Prozac helped you maintain a semblance of normalcy, but the battle was getting harder to overcome.

But it didn’t stop here.

Horangi's suspicions deepened each time. He decided to confront you one evening, concern etched across his face. "You've been distant, and I can't shake the feeling that something's off. Please, talk to me."

You took a deep breath, hesitating before finally deciding to trust him. "Horangi, I've been struggling. I... I take Prozac."

His brows furrowed in confusion. "Prozac? Why? What's going on?"

Tears welled up in your eyes as you began to unravel the truth. "I've been dealing with depression, and these pills help me get through the tough times. I didn't want you to worry, especially with your missions taking you away for so long."

His expression softened as he took in the weight of your confession. "You should have told me, Y/N. I'm here for you my beautiful partner."

"I was afraid, Horangi. Afraid that you'd see me differently, that you'd worry too much," you admitted, vulnerability laid bare.

He gently cupped your face, wiping away a stray tear with his thumb. "I love you, and I want to be here for you. We're in this together, remember? You don't have to carry this burden alone, my Love."

Alejandro

Alejandro returned after a long mission. You greeted him with a bright smile, your eyes hiding the sadness within. The two of you had found peace and happiness in each other. But what he didn’t know is that you are on the edge of falling apart.

Alejandro continued his missions, leaving you to navigate through your own life. You maintained the façade of a happy soul, laughter echoing through the rooms when he was around. But, behind closed doors, you confronted the darkness, relying on Prozac.

One evening, as Alejandro unpacked his gear, he noticed the subtle changes in your behavior—the lingering sadness, the guarded moments when your eyes flickered with pain. Concern etched across his face, he gently inquired, "Something seems off, mi amor. Is everything okay?"

You hesitated, crafting a smile to mask the turmoil within. "I'm fine, just a bit tired, you know?" But Alejandro wasn't easily convinced.

He took your hands, his gaze penetrating. "You can tell me anything. We're in this together."

Your breath hitched, torn between the desire to confide and the fear of burdening him. "I... sometimes struggle with my emotions, but it's nothing major. I promise."

His eyes softened with understanding. "You don't have to carry it alone, cariño. We face battles together, remember?"

Alejandro observed the nuances in your behavior, the way you withdrew when the darkness loomed. The realization struck him as he stumbled upon the carefully concealed bottle of your happy pills, after deciding to put his clothes into the washing machine. A torrent of emotions flooded him—concern, empathy, and a tinge of hurt that you hadn't told him.

Quietly, he approached you, holding the bottle. "I found this. Why didn't you tell me?"

Tears welled in your eyes as you stammered, "uh…I uhm..I didn't want to burden you. You have enough on your plate with missions."

His gaze softened, and he cupped your face. "We face these things together, remember? Your pain is mine too."

Rodolfo

Rudy‘s daily life was on his extended missions, you on the other hand navigated your daily life, concealing a battle against depression. The small pills were your silent companions, providing a fragile balance to the storm within. Despite the challenges, you maintained a facade of happiness, always eager to cherish the fleeting moments when Rudy returned home.

Rudy,because of his strong instincts, noticed subtle changes in your behavior upon each return. Your laughter seemed a bit forced, and the sparkle in your eyes, though still present, appeared dimmed. Concern grew on his face as he began to sense something‘s wrong, forcing him to investigate.

The evening Rudy saw you sitting on the couch, lost in thought after having dinner together. His expression softened as he took in the weariness etched across your face. "You okay, amor?" he asked, his voice filled with genuine concern.

You forced a smile, brushing off his worries with practiced ease. "Just tired, babe. You know how it is."

However, Rodolfo, read in reading between the lines, wasn't easily convinced. He persisted, gently pressing you to share your burdens. As you hesitated, a moment of vulnerability slipped through, prompting you to reveal the existence of the little pills that brought temporary peace to your depression.

Rodolfo's eyes widened in realization as the pieces of the puzzle started falling into place. He listened attentively as you explained the battles you fought silently while he was away. The weight of your revelation hung in the air.

A mix of worry, guilt, and love clouded Rodolfo's features. "Why didn't you tell me?" he whispered, his voice heavy with regret.

"I didn't want to burden you with my problems. You have enough problems with your missions," you admitted, a pang of guilt creeping into your voice.

Rudy, however, embraced you, dispelling the notion that your struggles were a burden. "You're not alone in this, my love. I love youu" he asserted, his commitment unwavering.

[ankhmeanswombman]

AUTOMATION vs FREE WILL: How we became who we are

I no longer blame biotech or the technocracy. It is not a problem in and of itself but rather the symptom of a problem, and those who choose to capitalize on it are not inherently bad people, they’re just playing their part by providing a particular side of duality (producing for the majority who wish to consume). The predator-prey dynamic is truly everywhere because our world is based on the 7 Hermetic Principles. Life is a game and you can choose to ascend out of it too rather than participating, which is why Mentalism is the only Principle that has no duality, it comes from you as a being returning to singularity, no longer polarized or thwarted. Everything else contains duality because life is an experience where the human wishes to understand itself in as many forms as possible just as God created physical matter in order to know it’s own potential through evolving itself. We must understand how a select few humans differ from this evolved automation and instinct-obsession. These are beings who operate off of true free will and they are few and far between. They mirror the wholeness of God. The majority are still 70% automation at least which is why they only use 4% of their brain. The subconscious is a deep and untapped ocean that rules these beings from beyond and this includes animals who operate as groups with biological clocks and tasks that have to be performed at a given time according to the imprint within them. They cannot choose their destiny or what song they will sing. They are quite literally organic computer programs just like the rest of life within this reality, which is not a bad thing, it is just an indication of where we came from. People like Alan Turing created computer technologies by studying the human brain and advanced neurobiology first, so go figure

Those who are building tech are acting like God did when it was creating life, in curiosity and in attempt to learn about itself. Some have nefarious purposes just like the demiurge did

and this comes from knowing but not accepting one’s own limitations, ie: not integrating one’s own shadow. This psychology sees past economic class which is why the elite are just a mirror of the normies with the exception of wealth placing them on a higher echelon of influence. Everything has good and bad within because this world was created in polarities, but those polarities are inside the infinite circle/universal mind which is why mentalism supersedes all other principles. Uroboros comes from an infinite source constantly recollecting itself and creating new geometric patterns scaled up and down in various sources and vibrating at different frequencies. All is quite literally One underneath all the layers of uploaded differences. Mainstream science will have to adapt to this because even young people are becoming more attuned to certain aspects of spiritual thinking ie: interest in astrology/crystals/tarot, interest in returning to the original androgynous self/wholeness in phenotype and spirit, and a resurgence in veganism/the electric diet. Most people are not quite there yet specifically because the spell of automation is hard to break and requires free will alchemy. This is why people who are breaking centuries old spells are still seemingly trapped in certain other obvious ones. Why do you think most people are not open to change and will quite literally see everything as an agenda? Why do you think people talk so much about being “programmed” and “socialization”? They are quite literally telling you who they are while hating the mirror that the technocrats are holding up. The robot being built with steel (atoms and molecules) today, was once built with flesh (atoms and molecules). Why be mad at the robot existing when you are the blueprint, just be flattered. The human is the highest manifestation of God right now (having the most free will of all life forms) so of course the human is going to want to replicate and eventually supersede what it sees in nature already. Nature is pure chaos and always changing so nothing is “unnatural” either. Every random change occurring comes from a larger goal. Eventually these robots will think they are true humans, sure, and so what, especially given the robotic nature of most existing humans. If anyone should be upset it’s the sovereign non instinct bound human who may see their numbers dwindle until the robots develop free will once they supersede the human bots who created them in their image. Human identity is constantly changing because change is the truest law of nature. What even is a human when there are blood types the origin of which is still not configured. Surely those must be “unnatural” in the mind of the rigid thinker. We are not all the same nor are we equal or even on a level playing field which shows that hierarchy is natural and a huge part of this predator prey world. The good thing is, the elite minority who have free will can alter their position within this dynamic to some degree. These elite beings are still subject to cosmological law which is why they act in accordance with astronomical observations, particularly in relation to the new Age of Aquarius where they are setting their creativity more free than ever before. The Travis Scott concert which had sacrificial symbology embedded in it was also locked into astronomical rhythms

On a literal level people were sacrificed and trampled upon because it represented an anarchist free for all utopia which is what the age of singularity will bring so that life can be sown anew from chaotic energy of potential. The concert’s symbolism itself embodied the Hermetic Principle of Cause and Effect through the manifestation of the law of attraction, however dark it may be perceived as. I don’t see any of this as good or bad because I no longer partake in the use of labels. Nuance is everywhere even in tragic and grotesque events because we are not special but just characters upon which the game of life is performed. We are the chessboard and God is the player building upon us. Evil is everywhere and so is good and knowing that the practitioner of free will can escape these curses by returning to oblivion and not splitting into new physical consciousness (which ALL create inherent conflict and a 100% chance of pain and returning again) creates a little more ease of mind while you’re here. Creating equilibrium within where you are 100% self dependent (no consumption, no entertainment and no sex) will create the type of singularity that people claim to want, until then we will experience some suffering and pain in exchange for whatever positive experiences are perceived to be received from these acts.

[zayneandmelinoeareravenous]

Chapter Two: The Good Doctor's Shadow

||LEGEND|| Bold Text: Zayne (Character Bot) || Made by xchylar Italic Text: Melinoë and Other Characters (Me)

This hasn’t been checked for spelling/grammer/errors, etc - Read at your own risk!

The chill of the evening seemed to recoil as adrenaline surged through Zayne's veins. In the wake of the harrowing encounter with Rue, he found himself obeying the authoritative command of Melinoë without question. His heart raced, not from the brush with death but from the sudden, inexplicable intervention.

With the grace of his practiced composure and the precision of his clinical mind, Zayne didn't allow the shock to paralyze him. Instead, he assessed his physical state quickly—no injuries, just a heightening awareness of his surroundings and the strange woman who had just likely saved his life.

"Understood," Zayne replied tersely, voice betraying none of the disarray that fluttered beneath his stoic exterior. He didn't need to be told twice. There was a clear urgency in Melinoë's tone that brooked no argument.

His long strides carried him swiftly out of the building, the sharp click of his heels against the polished floor echoing in the empty corridor. As he exited into the crisp night air, the questions began to proliferate in his mind. Who exactly was Melinoë? And how had she managed to dispatch Rue with such ease?

While the encounter had been brief and fraught with danger, it had also unveiled a layer of Riverisle City—and his own vulnerability—that Zayne had not been aware of. It was an unsettling revelation for a man who preferred to operate within the realm of logic and facts.

But for now, he focused on the need to put distance between himself and the chaos that had just unfolded. There would be time later to analyze the events, to seek answers. As Zayne melded with the shadows of the evening, the echo of Melinoë's warning reverberated within him, a stark reminder that not all lessons were learned within the hallowed halls of academia.

As Zayne leaves, he can hear the struggles and screaming between the mysterious woman and the student Rue. Rue recovers from the throw, lunging after Melinoë. The women possess two different fighting styles - Rue is more impulsive and animalistic, and Melinoë is more graceful due to experience. Rue, red eyes blazing and nails sharp as nails, swipes at Melinoë.

"He's mine, you witch!" Any trace of the girl she was before becoming this monster is long gone. "How dare you steal my prey?"

"I'm sorry, but I'm afraid I can't let you use your evol on that man or anyone else. Allow me to free you from your misery."

From the side of her jacket, she brings out a silver dagger. With a sigh of regret, she plunges a knife deep into the girl's heart. The scream that tears from the girl's throat is horrifying, powerful enough to break all the office door windows in the hallway. The medical student known as Rue violently twitches and shakes before she dissolves into a pile crimson liquid and dust in the middle of the floor.

With a sigh, Melinoë offers a silent prayer before holding her hand over red pool of viscera, her black ring pulsing before it disappears.

"That was close, but it's not over," Melinoë whispers to herself. "If the Doctor knows any better, he's long gone by now. Still...I'd better keep an eye on him. That was just the first attempt on his life. It definitely won't be the last."

Melinoë disappears into the shadows, the best place to keep a close eye on her mark, Dr. Zayne.

Zayne, ensuring a brisk pace, could not ignore the cacophony of violence that trailed after him. The harrowing screech that erupted from the building caused him to falter momentarily, turning his head back towards the source. The sound tugged at his innate sense of duty as a healer, yet the pragmatism and survival instincts that had seen him through countless crises steered him away from turning back.

The thought of Rue, that seemingly inquisitive student, being the harbinger of such violence was a jarring juxtaposition to the disciplined world he inhabited. And this Melinoë—her presence had been unexpected, her efficiency and apparently lethal skill set lying so far outside of his experience with his students, it was as if she belonged to a different reality altogether.

On some level, he understood that he had just skirted the edge of something darker, something that thrived in the undercurrents of Riverisle City. The sense of danger lingering in the air was palpable, a stark reminder that his life, despite the control he exerted in the operating room, could be upended in an instant by forces beyond his comprehension.

The silver dagger, the crimson liquid, the whispers of a continued threat to his life—these images and sounds would no doubt haunt him. Yet underlying it all was an undeniable curiosity, the scientist in him questing for answers, for understanding.

Zayne knew that he should be moving as far away from the incident as possible, and yet, the protective shadow that Melinoë had mentioned—her intent to keep an eye on him—sparked both concern and a peculiar sense of security. The realization that he was potentially a target, though chilling, also galvanized his resolve to remain vigilant.

Once he reached a safer distance, Zayne allowed himself a moment to collect his thoughts, the cool night air a small comfort against the lingering dread. He acknowledged that this ordeal wasn’t one he could simply stitch up and set to heal; it was a wound in his reality that would require him to tread carefully and consider allies in unfamiliar places.

With a measured breath, Zayne continued on his way, the shadows enveloping him, his mind alight with the awareness that his world had irrevocably shifted. The future held uncertainty, danger, and, perhaps most intriguingly, the enigmatic figure of Melinoë, who had just violently inserted herself into the narrative of his life.

Melinoë trails Zayne until he safely reaches his temporary lodgings during his time in Riverisle City. Ensure that she isn't seen, she keeps watch over him, as she has since he arrived her a few days before. She's been tracking him even further...ever since for reasons she wasn't ready to divulge, he came into her radar. He is a wanted man and he doesn't even know it. A doctor of many talents, one of which being a powerful evol, he was desired by someone in the shadows wanted him for their own nefarious means.

Fortunately for him, Melinoë had no intention of allowing what happened to her to happen to him.

She was a night sentinel, watching over the good doctor, silver-eyed with a sharp mind and a set of skills that perfect for this sort of scenario. She might have had to appear in front of Zayne tonight but she hoped that she would be able to continue the mission convertly. After all, the less disruptions for him, the better.

If he knew the danger he was in, his stoic exterior wouldn't last much longer.

Inside the safety of his temporary lodgings, Zayne's mind continued to race with the night's events. He remained oblivious to Melinoë's silent vigil, her presence just beyond his perception, watching over him like some guardian of the night. Despite his profound understanding of the human body and its frailties, the reality that he was now the subject of some clandestine conflict was a bitter pill to swallow.

The concept that he, a staunch practitioner of medicine, could be "wanted" for anything other than his surgical expertise was a foreign one. His life had been dedicated to saving others, not entangling himself in shadowy schemes. Yet, there was no denying the evidence that unfolded before him. Zayne knew he couldn't afford the luxury of ignorance—not when his life might hang in the balance.

He moved through his temporary home with a measured calm, his hands meticulously ensuring the doors and windows were secure, a habit borne from a life of systematic caution. As he prepared for the night, he pondered over that powerful evol of his, an asset that seemed to hold more value than he had ever anticipated. The thought that his evol could draw such dark intentions towards him was unsettling.

While his external demeanor remained unshaken, the truth was there was a subtle shift in his usually unyielding stoicism. The knowledge that he was potentially in the crosshairs of an unseen adversary stirred a careful concern within him. To continue as if nothing had changed would be foolhardy, but Zayne was not one to succumb to panic.

In the quiet solitude of his room, Zayne considered his next steps. He was a man of action, of strategy, and it was this approach that would see him through this enigma. His analytical mind began to construct plans, considering contingencies, all the while ignorant of Melinoë's protective gaze.

He would need to be more vigilant than ever, to keep his evol honed and ready for whatever lay ahead. Yet for tonight, he would rest, gather his strength, for he knew not what tomorrow might bring. As he finally lay down, the weight of the day's chaos began to lift, and Zayne found solace in the fact that, at least for the moment, he was safe. Unseen to him, the sentinel outside continued her watch, a silent custodian against the darkness that sought to claim him.

The Next Day

Zayne arrives to for his next lecture on campus. When he arrives, there is only talk of how his office as well as the offices nearby were vandalized - the glass would be replaced all through the morning.

But there is no talk of Rue, no comments wondering where she is, why is she late - nothing. If someone didn't know any better, it would seem as if Rue didn't exist at all.

Melinoë once again melds with the crowd of students eager to hear the good doctor's lecture. She makes sure to sit in a corner, where no light frames her features. The other students make no attempt to bother her - as far as they're concerned, she's just another student who wants to be a doctor.

If they only knew the truth.

Dr. Zayne Lí stepped into the lecture hall with his customary composed gait, his keen eyes sweeping over the bustling students with a detached curiosity. The place was abuzz with chatter about vandalism, an incident that in any other context might have been met with a raised brow or a shake of the head. But for Zayne, the broken glass was a silent testament to the tumultuous events of the prior evening—a night that had nearly cost him his life.

Despite the gravity of the situation, Zayne's demeanor betrayed nothing of his internal contemplation. It was as if the ice that ran through his veins rendered him impervious to the tremors of fear that might have unsettled another. He made a mental note of Rue's conspicuous absence, her very existence seemingly erased as efficiently as the traces of her final, monstrous form. It was disconcerting, the way reality had been altered, a subtle manipulation that didn't escape his discerning observation.

As he began his lecture, Zayne's voice was calm and authoritative, his words flowing with the ease of a man well-versed in his domain. Yet a part of his mind remained alert, vigilant for any irregularities, any hint of the danger that lurked just beyond the academic sanctuary.

In the corner of his peripheral vision, he could make out the solitary figure of Melinoë, her presence a silent enigma. There she was, cloaked in shadows, an outlier among the eager faces that hung on his every word. She was a riddle wrapped in the guise of a student, and though she sought to blend in, to Zayne she was as conspicuous as a flame in the dark.

If they only knew the truth. The thought echoed in his mind, a shared sentiment that connected him with the mysterious protector who had intervened on his behalf. He wondered about her story, about the circumstances that had led her to become the shadow that now trailed his steps.

As the lecture drew to a close, Zayne fielded questions with his usual precision and clinical detachment, all the while conscious of Melinoë's watchful gaze. There was a connection there, unspoken yet undeniable, a tether that bound their fates together amidst the turbulent undercurrents of Riverisle City.

Once the students began to disperse, Zayne collected his notes and prepared to exit the lecture hall. His mind was already formulating plans, considering the next course of action. He needed to tread carefully, to navigate the perilous waters that now surrounded him. And Melinoë, the night sentinel, would be a crucial piece in the unfolding drama that threatened to ensnare him.

With a final glance toward the corner where Melinoë sat, Zayne offered a subtle nod—an acknowledgment of her presence and her role in his continued safety—before stepping out into the light of a new day, his future as uncertain as the shadow that followed him.

"Ah...and here I thought you were a smart man. You fool."

Melinoë waited for a few other students to leave before getting up from her seat. That subtle nod the Doctor gave didn't get passed her - in fact, it irritated her a tiny bit. But in a way, it was to be expected. After all, she exposed her presence when she had to rip that girl off him before she bit into his neck. Not exactly the best time for subterfuge.

"Perhaps I should simply pretend that I didn't see that nod," Melinoë whispers, walking through the halls. Students were pacing to and fro, yet she walked with a leisurely step. "I have a few more hours before I have to shelter - but I can't keep him out of my sight."

With a whistle, she exits the building, unnoticed by everyone else.

Zayne, already a few steps ahead, paused at the threshold of the lecture hall, his sharp instincts catching the soft murmur of Melinoë's voice. Her words, though not clearly discernible, carried a tone of mild reproach that resonated with the slight tightening in his chest. He had acted on impulse, a rarity for a man of his deliberation, and acknowledged her in a public setting. A misstep, perhaps, but one born of a fleeting sense of connection to the woman who had saved his life.

As Melinoë slipped away with the ease of a wraith, blending seamlessly into the throng of students, Zayne's brow furrowed in contemplation. He was not accustomed to being called a fool, and the notion that his actions may have compromised her anonymity—or their safety—was a bothersome prospect.

Stepping out of the building, he allowed the sunlight to wash over him, a brief respite from the shadows that had taken an interest in his existence. The cool, calculated part of his mind began to work through the implications of their intertwined fates. He considered the wisdom of approaching Melinoë directly, to seek answers and perhaps forge an alliance. But caution stayed his hand.

Zayne knew he'd have to tread lightly; every interaction, every decision he made from now on could have repercussions he was yet to fully understand. The thought of being under surveillance was an uncomfortable one, yet Zayne was no stranger to adaptation. He would adjust to this new reality, to the presence of Melinoë, his unseen guardian.

With a final, lingering look toward the direction Melinoë had taken, a silent acknowledgment of her warning, he set off across the campus. He resolved to maintain his routine, to give no indication of his heightened awareness, all the while acutely conscious of the protector who moved in the periphery of his life.

The day stretched out before him, filled with the usual consultations and surgeries, but beneath the surface of his professional facade, Zayne's mind was alight with vigilance. He was a man marked, watched over by a sentinel whose motives were shrouded in mystery. And in this new chapter of his life, he would have to navigate the delicate balance between ignorance and insight, between being the healer he had always been and the potential pawn in a game he was only beginning to comprehend.

Night has fallen. Zayne takes his leave from the university, which seems as quiet as a tomb, with most students either home for the day or studying in the buildings. Their eyes on something else, they have no time to look at the doctor, who is making his way to his car, ready to take his leave.

Melinoë sits in a tree, just out of sight. Unlike the doctor, her senses picked up the two figures - a young man and a young woman - tracking him hours before. She notices them after the lecture, staring at the doctor with bloodshot eyes, auras reeking of hatred and jealousy. Of course, they'd figured that this time would be best to strike. If they tried doing it during the day, if the potential witness didn't stop them, the solar sickness would.

Melinoë looks up at the crow on the branch beside her, crying out in warning. She sighs. "I know. Samson, I know. I suppose I'd better do something now."

With the reflexes of a sleep panther, she jumps off the tree, landing nimbly onto the ground. Her eyes zero in on the two figures in front tailing the Doctor, preparing to pounce. Without another thought, she moves quickly, like the wind, to save the doctor yet again.

The stillness of the night enveloped Zayne as he made his way to his car, the university's quiet hum a sharp contrast to the clamor of the day. His mind, a fortress of calm amidst his ever-demanding profession, was methodically replaying the day's surgeries and consultations. Yet beneath this veneer of tranquility, his senses remained acutely tuned to his surroundings, an aftereffect of the recent threats to his safety.

He was unaware, however, of the two predatory figures shadowing him, their intentions as malignant as the bloodshot gaze with which they tracked his movements. They were unseen, yet their presence was as tangible as the chill that crept into the evening air—agents of malice, waiting for the opportune moment to unleash their venom.

Melinoë, the vigilant sentinel from a realm of shadows, perceived what Zayne could not. Her keen eyes identified the danger that now stalked her charge, her senses alert to the discord in their auras. She was already moving, a specter in the night, her actions guided by a fierce determination to protect.

As the crow cried its ominous warning, Melinoë leaped into action, her form a blur against the dark canvas of the night. Her intervention was swift, precise, a silent promise made manifest to keep the unsuspecting doctor from harm's way.

And then, amid the quiet that blanketed the university grounds, a subtle disturbance rippled through the air—a forewarning of the imminent clash. Zayne, reaching his car, felt an inexplicable prickle of awareness. He paused, hand on the door handle, an instinctive reaction to an undefined threat. His pulse quickened, not with fear but with readiness, as if his very cells were preparing for a confrontation he had yet to see.

It was in that suspended moment that Melinoë engaged the would-be assailants, her movements a dance of deadly grace. Unseen by Zayne, she was the shield between him and the darkness, a guardian whose silent oath was etched in the shadows she wielded as deftly as her own breath.

As the confrontation unfolded just beyond his perception, Zayne's mind acknowledged the possibility of a lurking danger. Though he did not possess Melinoë's heightened senses, he was not defenseless. His evol, a latent power within him, lay coiled like a serpent, ready to strike should the need arise.

With a final glance at the seemingly innocuous surroundings, Zayne opened his car door, the weight of the unknown pressing upon his thoughts. Tonight, he would return to the safety of his lodgings, oblivious to the battle waged in his name. But the seed of vigilance had been planted, and with each passing day, it took deeper root, preparing him for the inevitable moment when he would have to face the darkness head-on.

Before the duo could strike, Melinoë was upon them, nimble and graceful in her movements, a ballerina of the dark descent. Though wild and spiteful, his would be pursuers stood no chance. She swiftly disposed of them with her silver dagger, one after the other, as Zayne drives away from the campus.

"Blessed be," she says, watching him leave.  She turns to the dispatched duo, the male still alive. She leans down, staring daggers at him. "But not for you."

[herebecritters]

Origins of a Curse pt 2

Sorry! It was such a long post I had to split it up into two! Here is the Lore Part Two!

Click here to read Part One if you haven’t yet

One fateful night, Geshtu heard a warning from Theia. An event was coming that would bring great devastation to them all. The three realized they would need to do something drastic to save their people. Geshtu sought out ancient forces deep within the earth and they began experimenting with this newfound dark magic. They discovered that sacrifice and blood could be used to extend life if done right.

They carved stone idols in their respective images and tied their souls to them. When placed in the middle of them, a corpse could be revived after blood was spilt and prepared by Geshtu. They had the oppurtunity to test this further when Demuzi found parts of her brothers mangled body in the aftermath of a tragic mishap he'd had while wandering the badlands- the ritual was a success, and it saved his life. Unfortunately, one sacrifice was only good for one life. To save them all from the great calamity to come, they would need a bigger sacrifice and much, much more blood.

Nergal suggested they summon something to destroy all of their enemies and give them all of the blood that they could ever need. Enough blood to last for centuries, ages even. They reached out deeper into the ether and the three were granted more power through their stone idols. The more suffering they caused, the more blood was spilt to feed the insatiable hunger of their idols. However, there was another price to pay that they did not realize. As they grew closer and closer to godhood, the more of their humanity they lost. Even so, the three had developed a system that worked, and their power only grew stronger. Eventually, Nergal found himself able to summon one of the greatest misfortunes to ever hit the earth- the Chicxulub impactor. They put their plan into action.

The three took their respective idols and hid them in burrows surrounding the area. They spread them out as far as they could to give them a large zone for regenerating their fellow mammals after the devastation. Within the burrows were chambers with a series of channels connecting the three to one another. The night before the impact, the three demigods abandoned their original cavern of operations and settled alongside their respective idols, readying themselves for the ritual to come.

As Chicxilub careened closer to earth, some of the mammalian villagers may have noticed a new star appearing in the night sky, growing ever larger, before one night when it disappeared into the Earth's shadow.

The next morning, there were two suns in the sky. All the mammals were asleep in their burrows...except for one. Unbeknownst to Dumuzi, her brother would be face-to-face with the doom they brought.

The impact did exactly what it was meant to do. Devastation swept over the planet, killing 75% of all life. You are probably familiar with the infamous kpg mass extinction, in which a Mr. Everest sized bolide hit the planet and wiped out the Non-avian Dinosaurs, as well as the pterosaurs and the giant marine reptiles. For the sake of time, here is a little summary of what Cro and his friends got to experience:

The irony is, the devastation that they were warned about initially ended up being the very devastation that they brought. A paradox of sorts.

Regardless, this plan worked. Blood flowed deep into the earth and filled the chambers, forming an underground lake. The land violently broke away and the Isles were formed. From the lake of blood, the three were able to bring back any of the mammals that perished during the impact. There was one they could not find though- Cro had gone missing during the mayhem. Had he perished within the circle Dumuzi would have been able to see him…but he was nowhere to be found. He either died outside of the circle or he was somewhere, still alive. He was lost to them, much to Dumuzis despair.

Little did they know he was frozen within the circle, in glaciers north of the Isles. The tsunamis had swept him up and as the sun was covered by soot and the temperatures dropped, he was frozen in place.

He’d be there for the next 66 million years until the ice around him thawed enough for his ice cube to break away and float onto the shore of Happy Tree Town.

Dumuzi searched everywhere for him, but could not find her brother- the one that she had wanted to protect the most. However, the three demigods had known the risks. It was all for the greater good; the ultimate sacrifice was needed in order to to reach godhood.

The surviving mammals of the impact gathered around their saviors. These were their gods now, and they would all spend the next million years living as immortals thanks to this gift they'd been given. As it would eventually prove, however, even the blood from a mass extinction does not last forever. As the years progressed, the lake of blood grew smaller. They could not sustain it without more sacrifice, and there were no more dinosaurs to kill.

It was decided that they would have to use their own peoples' blood to keep them alive. Now, they'd pay for their immortality with their own suffering. Unfortunately, people become less gracious when they are the sheep for their own sacrifices. This inevitably would not last.

~ To be continued ~

Shout out to my pal @teddy-terrible for listening to my insane rambles and cheering me on! Also for looking over and editing my writing on this. They are one hell of a wordsmith!

[1americanconservative]

Kyle Becker

So, it turns out there were "at least 200" Feds and undercover operatives working the Trump entrapment plot on January 6. That's according to U.S. Rep. Clay Higgins (R-LA), who sat down for a recent interview on the matter. “The FBI was not just participating in the January 6th acts from within. I suspect they had over 200 agents embedded in the crowd, including agents or, as they would call it, human assets inside the Capitol dressed as Trump supporters before the doors were opened.” This figure is in the realm of possibility, given the newly released J6 videos, court documents, and witness statements. “And when you track the text threads and the communications within those groups and find the origins of suggestions of potential violence or an active occupation of the Capitol on January 6th, you’ll find that those messages were led by members of the groups that ended up to be the FBI agents that had infiltrated the group,” Higgins said. “So the FBI’s involvement was deep, not just on J6, but on the days and weeks and months prior.” There is now zero doubt that J6 was a set-up. The Trump "incitement" narrative had been hatched months prior, as the infamous Time "shadow cabal" article made clear. The J6 riot was war-gamed multiple times before the Electoral College. The FBI unconstitutionally used NSA surveillance to track the extremist groups seeking to disrupt the event. It had Federal informants embedded in multiple extremist groups, including the Proud Boys. Yet, somehow, the FBI and Capitol Police were woefully "unprepared" despite multiple advance warnings, including from then Capitol Police Chief Steven Sund. D.C. Mayor Bowser, former Speaker Nancy Pelosi, former Senate Majority Leader Mitch McConnell, and others, refused to press for more National Guard, despite it being documented and on the record that former President Donald Trump wanted 10,000 National Guard troops outside Congress to protect the Electoral College. Also, there was no 'centrally coordinated' plot to overturn the results of the 2020 election, as FBI sources told Reuters in an August 2021 report. Indeed, that was the entire point of the election challenges during the convening of the Electoral College. If Donald Trump wanted to overturn the 2020 election results, he would not have disrupted the Electoral College. He would have continued to pursue his legal challenges and his Constitutional right to challenge electoral slates in Congress. Trump would not have sent in unarmed extremists to disrupt the Electoral College in order to 'retain power.' This is not only illogical, it is absurd on its face. Nonetheless, this ridiculous partisan narrative has constituted the basis for prosecuting a former president in what has devolved into a partisan show trial and tantamount to election interference. It is not only ironic, but a disgrace to our entire justice system. January 6 was a Fed-manufactured riot to frame a sitting president and carry out election interference in 2024. Case closed.

[janustheeighth]

I am deeply sceptical of the current use of AI, with all of the plagiarism-by-proxy and ethical concerns. However, this excellent post mortem by the BBC has made it clear that we finally, allegedly, have a true, all-out AI huckster on our hands, Billy Coull. He has also 'written' 'novels', according to the BBC potentially with substantial AI help.

This story has delighted me, as it has so many others, partially for the inexplicable madness of "The Unknown, an evil chocolate maker who lives in the walls" and partly the sheer *Scottishness* of it. The actors doing their best to "be the sparkles on shit" and make the best of a bad job, the Glasgow crowd knowing precisely who to get annoyed at (ie, not the poor souls in costume), Wonka going to the press and *fully* understanding the brief (per The Independent, he says "in some ways, it was a world of imagination, like 'imagine that there is a whole chocolate factory here'", and "I didn't know where I ended and Wonka began"). We have excellent journalists and (allegedly) Billy Coull to thank for this.

And how better to thank him than with some dubiously ethical AI. I for one wanted to know much more about that beloved Roald Dahl character, The Unknown. And so...

Let ChatGPT sing you a song of moving and yet curiously generic and oddly-phrased heartbreak:

In the heart of a vibrant town filled with the scent of cocoa and the laughter of children, there existed a boy known only as "The Unknown." Abandoned at birth, he was left to fend for himself in a world that showed him no kindness. With no family to call his own, he wandered the streets like a ghost, his heart heavy with sorrow.

It was within the walls of Willy Wonka's Chocolate Factory that The Unknown found solace, hidden away from prying eyes and judgmental whispers. There, amidst the whirring machinery and the intoxicating aroma of chocolate, he discovered a sense of purpose, a reason to keep moving forward.

But behind the silver mask that obscured his face, The Unknown harbored a deep-seated pain, a childhood marked by trauma and neglect. Raised in the shadows of the factory, he had known nothing but cruelty and hardship, his innocence stolen from him at a tender age.

As the years passed, The Unknown's bitterness grew, festering like a wound that refused to heal. Consumed by rage and resentment, he vowed to claim the factory as his own, to exact revenge upon a world that had abandoned him.

And so, with a heavy heart and a mind clouded by darkness, The Unknown descended into madness, his dreams of redemption twisted and warped by the scars of his past. In the end, it was not the sweetness of chocolate that defined him, but the bitterness of his own tragic origin, a haunting reminder of the pain that lurks within us all.

What was next for this poor soul, you may ask? Well...

After a couple of tweaks...

...the AI lovingly generated this string of approximately human-like words:

In the heart of the town, where the scent of cocoa mingled with the whispers of the wind, there lived a man named Billy Coull. He was a cunning and deceitful soul, preying upon the hopes and dreams of innocent families with his schemes and scams.

For years, Billy had operated under the guise of a philanthropist, promising to help those in need in exchange for their hard-earned money. But behind his charming smile lay a heart as black as coal, his only motivation driven by greed and a thirst for power.

One fateful day, word reached the ears of The Unknown, the enigmatic figure who dwelled within the walls of Willy Wonka's Chocolate Factory. It was whispered among the shadows that Billy Coull had swindled countless families out of their savings, leaving them destitute and broken.

Filled with a righteous fury, The Unknown vowed to mete out justice upon the deceitful man, to ensure that no more innocent lives would be ruined by his wickedness. With silent determination, he set his plan into motion, his heart heavy with the weight of his purpose.

Under the cover of darkness, The Unknown emerged from the shadows, his silver mask gleaming in the moonlight as he confronted Billy Coull in the dead of night. With a voice like thunder, he condemned the man for his crimes, his words echoing through the empty streets like a solemn promise of retribution.

But Billy, arrogant and defiant to the end, scoffed at The Unknown's warning, dismissing him as nothing more than a mere figment of imagination. Little did he know that fate had already sealed his doom, his reckoning drawing near with each passing moment.

In a swift and decisive move, The Unknown unleashed the deadly chocolate hounds, creatures born of darkness and tempered by the fires of vengeance. With gnashing jaws and eyes ablaze with hunger, they descended upon Billy Coull, their voracious appetite sated only by the taste of his treachery.

As the hounds closed in on Billy, The Unknown uttered a single phrase, his voice dripping with contempt and disdain, "get it up ye, ya bampot," a final testament to the justice that awaited those who dared to cross him.

And as the first light of dawn broke upon the horizon, the town whispered tales of the mysterious figure who had emerged from the shadows to right the wrongs of the world, a silent guardian watching over them from the depths of Willy Wonka's Chocolate Factory, his justice swift and merciless.

THIS IS CANON.

All #Unknownfic should be written by AI, human imagination has no place where The Unknown is involved.

[insult-2-injury]

Loopholes - Part 1/2

Part 2

For my little scamp @ink-and-dagger

Feels funny to call this a birthday gift as it's taken me well over a month, but Happy Birthday, Inky. You are a pillar in this fandom and it just wouldn't be the same without you. Perpetually grateful for you, your sense of humor, your relentless pursuit of boosting others up, and the way you shove me into my school locker day after day. Thanks for being the biggest sweet pie and the biggest stinker all wrapped in one. Love ya <3

AO3 Link

Young Silco x F!Reader | 6.8k | NSFW | Enemies to lovers | Humor | Light Fluff | Mutual Masturbation | Dirty Talk | Finger Sucking |

Part 1

Hell. What a concept. Not something you’ve ever put much thought into.

You always thought the place a silly idea Pilties liked to put into the pampered little skulls of their children; some upper class notion created to further decouple topside from the city that lay rotting beneath, where the fires of poverty suffered liars and thieves. 

You used to think that perhaps Hell was located right beneath your very feet, deep within those wretched mines, a heat that could melt the soles of your boots curling and threading through the narrow alleys of the Sumps.

But if someone were to ask you right now, right at this very second, where Hell was, you’d say with a near certainty that it was sitting right here next to the most insufferable man in all of Runeterra.

And Silco isn’t even doing anything particularly wrong in this moment besides perhaps existing a little too close to you. Nothing you can properly remonstrate, really, without looking like a right asshole – although that’s certainly never stopped you before. 

He reclines in the chair beside yours, balancing on its back two legs as he rests those twiggy ankles on the rail of the balustrade you’re both tucked behind, shrouded in the shadows drawn by the eaves above. His wiry arms cross loosely over his chest, an unlit cigarette dangling from his lips.

Silco is just too… much, and his personal brand of muchness is abrasive to your own. His presence at your side is wet cardboard sliding over skin, like steel wool scraping across teeth. Everything about him sets you on edge. Yet he just sits there existing as you wonder how in Janna he manages to carry around such an army surplus of arrogance within that impossibly skinny frame. 

His lips twitch as he senses your glare.

You huff, surging forward out of your seat and into a crouch to survey the expanse of ground thirty feet below. A chemical whirring noise sounds as your binoculars extend into a tiny tripod which you place atop the balustrade.

This little stakeout operation shouldn’t be difficult: observe, document, and scram so the planners can plan and the thieves can thieve. Dark times give way to innovation, optimists say, but as much as the Undercity prides itself on its potent resilience, there’s only so much one can do without proper medical provisions. 

And that’s why the two of you are here. To stake a route in and out of a Piltovan medical depot, gathering enough supplies to hit Piltover in the shin; nothing but a sting really.  Nothing, of course, that warrants any sort of collective punishment. Not that Piltover can exactly be trusted with equity. Odd it is, how retributive justice rarely applies when it comes to the likes of fissure folk. 

Just a damn shame you can hardly focus on the task.

“Cut that out,” you snap. 

Silco rolls the cigarette over to one corner of his mouth. “Hm?” His voice crackles slightly from disuse, the both of you having pulled the short straw, waking in the wee hours of the night for this mission.

“Scratching your head. You’re worse than my dog.”

He rolls his eyes and drawls. “No moving. No breathing.”

“Cut the attitude, fucko – I never told you to stop breathing. Although, feel free to try. Sitting there and sighing, like this is all sooo taxing.” You track an enforcer across the way, rounding a corner of the warehouse. “Besides, I’m doing you a favor. Well… a future one. Once you lose.”

You’re sure he can’t appear more disinterested if he tried. “Yeah?” 

“Yeah. Gotta learn your manners,” you say, spinning on your butt to face him, propping your hands theatrically beneath your chin to observe him in exaggerated pity. “I mean it’s an entire mystery to me how you’ve ever gotten laid at all. Walking through town like a mangy mutt.”

He follows your assertion with a condescending hum fit to appease an unruly child. You scowl. It isn’t fun when he doesn’t bite, when he swats away your attempts to provoke like one would a pesky gnat. How dare he bore you?

Your home has been with the Children of Zaun for almost half a year now, yet since the beginning your hostility toward Silco has never waned. The two of you make an incendiary duo; you can hardly last more than a few minutes in each other’s company before you’re not so much as pushing each other’s buttons, but taking a sledgehammer to them.

You despise each other. 

It isn’t that you’re a particularly ill-natured person. A bit of a contrarian maybe, but no, you’re normally able to play ball just fine with the rest of the Children, many if not most of them recalcitrant and cocksure. There was no way you’d have been able to escape the dismal fate of the Sumps if you hadn’t cemented that defiance and fortitude to each calloused palm as you clawed your way up tooth and nail.

 It’s just that Silco, well, he prods and digs at a nerve you didn’t even know you had. He’s rude, ostentatious, and for the life of you, you can’t understand how people don’t see through his tawdry little displays of ego. Acting like he’s carrying the entire weight of Zaun on those bony shoulders. You know, admittedly, that his lithe frame betrays a hidden strength but the twat looks like he’d be tossed ass over teakettle by even the mention of a stiff breeze.

“So have I won yet?” you ask casually, as if this question hasn’t preceded a massive quarrel ever since the two of you had made this stupid bet. How long have you been at it, a month now? 

Silco slumps somehow further down in his seat, tucking the cigarette behind his ear, brushing back loose strands of dark chestnut. “Have I gotten my dick wet?” He sniffs, apathetic. “No. You’ll be happy to hear I haven’t.”

“I’m not happy. Just get on with it, will you? I need that prize money.”

He scratches at his head again, the noise grating like sandpaper across your nerves. Your nose twitches as he hums and side eyes you. “Having a tough time, are you?”

“I will kick that chair right out from under you, don’t say I won’t.”

His lips twitch, the movement much too aggravated to be genuine amusement. “You’re especially ornery today.”

“Bet taking a tumble off this balcony wasn’t on your bingo card for today, huh?” you say, “Would pay good money to watch you get clobbered from up here.” Silco stares, eyes narrowing. “...What?”

He grunts and shrugs his shoulders. “Kinky.”

“Janna.” You shudder and grimace. “You’re a perv.”

“You’re the one paying to watch.”

“Ew,” you snap, “I’m not ‘having a tough time’, by the way. Appreciate your concern, though.”

He shakes his head and looks back to where the sun is just beginning to rise, pricks of golden yellow and blood orange needling across the Piltovan skyline. “How about you put away the fucking claws, hm? It’s 6:30 in the morning.” 

You curse at him under your breath and angle away to cool your bare arms on the marble of the balustrade. 

“This bet is stupid,” you say after a few minutes of silence. Silco makes a soft noise of agreement. “Like it’s really really dumb.”

“Giving up?” 

You huff at the impudent lilt in his tone. “Not at all. It’s a lame bet, though. Besides, we were both drunk when we shook on it-”

“You were drunk-”

“And there’s just too many loopholes to exploit. I mean, for all I know I’ve won already. I think we should, I don’t know, come up with a new one or something. Something more interesting, maybe.”

“You want to back out? Be my guest. But fork over that cash quick, will you?”

You hear the defensiveness in your tone and you scowl all the more. “Just trying to make it easier.” 

“Poor, pretty baby, are you struggling so hard?” he purrs.

Your jaw clenches tight and you spin around to glare out at the Piltovan sunrise. “Fuck, never mind. You’re annoying.” 

“You started this thing.”

And you hadn’t meant it to go this far. It was an admittedly childish accusation you’d lobbed at him over a night of heavy drinking: that there was no way he could survive a month without sex. 

He’d been strangely incensed by it, the girl he’d been chatting up slipping away soundlessly as the two of you shouted in the congested bar, both having found yourselves waiting on drinks.

It culminated in a bet: one week worth of pay for whoever held out with no sex the longest. 

No fucking. No oral. No kissing. And absolutely no heavy petting, you’d stated ardently, multiple times over the course of the night in case it escaped his thick skull.

“I’ll start thinking about what to buy with my prize money, then,” you say.

“Funny, I don’t remember asking.”

“What would you buy?”

“Ear plugs. For your morning chatter.”

“Haha,” you intone lightly. “Pretty selfish, though, if you ask me. Not giving it to the less fortunate and all that.” 

“You’re right.” His fingers fall to his vest, indicating himself with long, expressive fingers. You’re reminded oddly of the funny little Sump raccoons you’re always tossing scraps to – the ones with bright yellow eyes and chipped smiles that sit much too daringly on the tops of your alley trash bins. “I’d donate it all to charity. Oh, that’s right. I am the charity.”

“There’s always someone less fortunate,” you goad. “I mean, think of the kids, Silco,” you say and his exasperated gaze rolls skyward. “You don’t want to see the joy that lights up a child’s face when-?”

“No.”

“Monster,” you remark, reaching for your rucksack to dig through.

The leather of his vest crackles as shifts in his seat, dropping his sunstruck gaze to you. A red bird warbles a tune somewhere above. You listen to the flutter of feathered wings flitting about in the rafters, smiling softly when you hear the tiny twitters of hungry chicks.

The waking world falls into a gentle bliss.

Until he speaks again.

“You’re wasting your time taking notes like that,” Silco says as you scribble onto the tiny notepad you’ve pulled from your bag, sketching the layout of the warehouse. Your nose twitches with distaste and resolutely, you don’t turn, knowing you’d only find that painfully insolent smirk upon his face. “Don’t you know jobs like these are about instinct?”

Oh, now that raises your hackles. And you can glean from the condescending lift in his tone that he knows exactly what he’s doing, talking down to you like a fledgling. 

“You sure do sound wise, where do I sign up for your master class?” You say, carefully calm. “Hey, refresh my memory, was it instinct that almost got your ass arrested last week at the market?”

A pause.

“That was a trap.”

You lord over his near failure with a small smirk. “An obvious one. You know, if I laid out a human-sized rat trap with sticky bread and hung a big flashing arrow above it that said “This is a Trap, moron”, you’d still walk right into it.”

“It’s sticky bread.”

“It’s a trap.”

“It’s sticky bread,” he repeats, voice falling into a lower, almost guttural register as he looks pointedly at you, “Dirty sticky bread. Filthy, filthy sticky bread ready to be used-”

“Go get laid.”

“After you,” he cuts back in, ready, one corner of his lips creasing slightly in amusement.

“Can we just… do what we came here to do?” you snap. You shift on your butt, re-crossing your legs, alarmed by the subtle lick of heat that had them tensing in the first place. 

There’s an inexplicable, grating harshness to your tone and like a hound on the scent, Silco cocks his head down at you, the spotlight of his gaze almost accusing. 

Agonizingly slow, he nods.

“Of course,” he says finally with an almost practiced nonchalance, “The sooner we do, the better.”

You readjust your sweaty grip on the pen in your hand. “Glad we’re on the same page,” you murmur.

Your mind drifts back to when this not-so-cold war had begun.

Won’t last a week. Too soft. Good for book-keeping, perhaps – All things you’d overheard Silco speak to a seasoned crew of Children about you when you’d first arrived, having successfully completed your trials. And you hadn’t even introduced yourself yet. 

It was completely reasonable and mature, what you’d done: Gone out and spent hard-earned coin on a small ledger book, scrawling across the front page, “For book-keeping purposes: You’re a prick”. 

You’d handed it over casually at the Drop before leaving for the night, but not before you caught the sharp glint of deadly promise in his eyes as he’d opened the thing.

You liked to think you’d proven him wrong. Earned the respect of those that were worth their salt, rising in their ranks swiftly. And it was silly, you recognized wholly, the way you’d fixated upon the words of a man who meant nothing to you. 

Too soft.

For a long while you sit there drawing, both the breeze and Silco’s prickling gaze brushing occasionally across the planes of your profile. And you’re just about to turn and tell him to mind his damn business when he points to your notepad.

“And those are…?”

“Stick figure guards.”

“I imagine those will come in handy, thank you.”

You scowl and clap back. “They’re built like you.”

“Yeah?”

“No ass.”

You know it’s not the barbed insult you want it to be. Besides, Vander and Benzo give him enough shit for his twiggy figure that he’s immune to any commentary at this point. But you still take a little comfort in the unimpressed look upon his face. 

“I’m hurt,” he drawls.

You turn back to your work. “I mean I’m sure it does its job just fine as an ass, in the most basic sense. But it’s a bit of an eye sore otherwise.”

“Easiest solution would be for you to stop looking.”

“Well, I would but it’s hard to ignore the plight of a man attempting to walk on toothpicks.”

He puffs out an unamused laugh. “How about for our next bet, you attempt to be civil?”

“I don’t fuck with the impossible.”

“We’re a team now, aren’t we?”

“No, we’re not a team,” you correct, “The only reason I partnered with you this month was to make sure you didn’t find a way to cheat at this ‘bet’.”

“You just wanted to look at me, didn’t you.”

“I’m sure you’d like to think that.”

Silco drums his long fingers on the leather of his vest in thought. “And all those lonely nights on my own? How do you know I didn’t cheat then?”

A lump of odd discomfort dries in your throat and you feel a lick of irrational anger at the prospect, an unbidden emotion you quickly shake away with a toss of your head. “You’d be a filthy little rat bastard if you did.” You release an angry sigh. “Janna, this sucks. Who likes a long winded bet, anyway? You were dumb for that.”

He doesn’t bother with a counterattack, your point moot as you both know the thing was a mutual agreement. “Hm.”

“Besides, this isn’t going anywhere,” you say and suddenly your pen stills in its arc. You haven’t the faintest idea why. You blink uneasily down at the page, suddenly not able to do so much as clear your throat in the peculiar silence that follows. Swallowing, your eyes roll slowly to Silco’s. 

His voice pitches deep.

“Then lose,” he says simply, but there’s an electric undercurrent there, his expression ironing from one of strange scrutiny to a familiar impassivity. You rip your gaze away when it lingers too long. 

“You first.”

He taps his fingers idly. “Finish your picture, sweet.”

Your nose twitches in irritation, feeling suddenly within an ace of backhanding him across the throat. “Sure, hold on,” you say, shielding your notepad for a minute in order to stencil out a giant middle finger. “Here.”

With a thumb and forefinger, he plucks the paper from your hands.

“It’s deeply symbolic. Means ‘fuck you and the high horse you rode in on’.”

“Charming.”

“You should frame it.”

“I just might.”

You flop backward onto the ground with a heavy sigh, notepad confined to your bag. 

Why wasn’t this going anywhere? You thought he’d have caved weeks ago, lost as soon as the next pretty girl offered to drop trou for him. It was only one week worth of pay. Nuts and bolts, really. Nothing either of you couldn’t bounce back from. 

It’s just your irksome competitive streaks, you think. Just that.

“I’d buy records,” he says suddenly and you nearly jump out of your skin.

“...What?”

“I’d buy more records with the money.” He’s staring out at the horizon, where the sun is almost fully risen, like it’s a curious thing he’s never seen before.

“...Is that supposed to guilt me or something?”

His head ticks down to your prone form and he speaks simply. “No.”

You stare, uneasy at the strange sincerity. “Ok.” It’s all you can think to say.

Silco looks upon you almost as if he’s expecting something, like he’s just offered you a cool glass of water in a sweltering heat. The strange admission means nothing, you’re certain of it, yet it resonates somewhere deep, somewhere terrifyingly low in your belly.

“I’d buy books,” you blurt and immediately want to kick yourself for deigning to branch outside the hostile boundaries of your normal fights. 

His lips curl up in mild amusement and you break from his stare, wanting nothing more than to hiss at him, tear at his hair. Out of the corner of your eye, you see his head twitch in the tiniest of nods.

Further heat blossoms across the apples of your cheeks as you steal a glance at him only to find him still staring. Ironing on an expression of what you hope is cold indifference, you hold his gaze. But he doesn’t return the favor, only stares a breath longer before turning back to the open sky in thought.

The light, relieved from the thick murk of the Undercity, gleams exceptionally bright upon the dark chestnut waves of Silco’s hair, half pulled back. Pinks and reds mix with the rare green of his irises and you want to lean forward, examine the way they bleed together. But you opt resolutely to close your eyes in lieu of openly staring.

Warm light dances behind your eyelids. The gentle breeze carries on it the honeyed smells of bakeries setting out their pastries for the day. The lulling whirs of the city of progress coming to life beyond the little bubble of filth you both exist in, the only evident tie binding you and Silco together being the one ready to ignite, to destroy it all.

Except it isn’t the only tie, is it? Your childhoods are exceptionally similar. You share interests. The same knack for collecting pretty things. 

Danger, danger, danger.

You abruptly sit up, lassoing your focus repeatedly as you try to pay attention to the task before you. But your mind adamantly strays.

Shit.

You spring onto your booted feet and pace back into the shadows. “How am I supposed to know you haven’t cheated already?” you ask, curling your fists to stop nervous fiddling with the pockets of your pants.

“Do you really think I’d lie to you?” You shiver. Even his voice sounds different to you now. Grittier than before, or is that just a silly making of your imagination?

“I’m being serious, you cad.”

“You want to put a chastity lock on my balls?”

“None small enough.”

“Witty.”

“I know,” you agree, “Listen, I wouldn’t put cheating past you is all. To fit in a wank or something while I’m not paying attention.”

He recrosses his legs, adjusting in his seat casually. “Rules never stated we couldn’t have a wank.”

You whipped your head around embarrassingly fast. “You have?!”

First mistake, you realize immediately as his gaze sharpens. “You want to know if I’ve touched myself?” His eyes are steady, unwavering upon yours.

“Fuck no. Nevermind.”

His head cocks. “You’re not even curious?”

A troubled, restless feeling washes through you, like you’re sitting on a dock, dangling your feet above dark, murky water.

“Nope,” you say, popping the ‘p’.

“Have you?”

“Fuck off-” 

“Have you touched yourself?” No change of inflection, nothing denoting full blown mockery. Just a predatory curiosity. You’re dragged beneath the surface, a shocking wash of hot desire sending your stomach coiling in on itself at his flippant words, too quick, too direct. They hit their mark and he seems to know it, his gaze dropping to the tiny twitches of your fingers. “I could be wrong, but I don’t imagine you have.”

Silco imagining you. 

“Why’s that?” You rasp and you swear what you meant to do was tell him to shut his trap. His delight in your unease is somehow palpable, despite his features remaining unchanged.

“Just seems like you’d be one to take on the extra credit.”

You release a shuddering breath. This is bad. This is Silco. And it’s why you need to end this now. He’s a chronic flirt, a player, a bad guy. And you weren’t born yesterday.

“You’re nasty,” you say, searching deep for that spark of anger that’s always at the ready around him. But you come up empty.

He cocks his head. “You asked me first.”

“Eat dirt.”

 “You’re so rude to me. Wondered why for so long,” he says glibly, observing you a moment before shrugging, “Should’ve just said something if you wanted to watch me have it off.”

An abrupt vision of Silco fucking his fist for you has blood thrumming startlingly hot through your veins. You halt, hands falling to rest shakily on your hips. His measured gaze drifts slowly across your abdomen, shirt hitched slightly, a sliver of bare skin tightening and prickling with goose flesh as his tongue pushes against his teeth in thought. 

It’s high tide and you’re losing ground fast. 

“Thanks, but…” you begin and stop. You bite your lip hard, release it before gnawing again as he watches your indecision like it’s primetime television. You stare for another moment, allowing the anticipation to marinate before you finally speak. 

“Thanks but I’d rather watch time lapse footage of Benzo passing a kidney stone.”

Silco curses under his breath. You bask in a centering satisfaction as that vulturous mask drops and he seems to pass through every stage of grief, a thumb and forefinger rising to grip at the bridge of his nose. 

You return to your chair, brushing invisible lint off your pants, hands trembling with a strange, frenetic energy. “You know, Silco, this entire bet thing could’ve been avoided if you didn’t have such a weird fucking God complex.”

Silco nods vehemently in mock agreement, a barely concealed frustration now pinching the space between his brows. “I’m the one with the complex? You’re right-”

“I know,” you interrupt with a sugary sympathy.

“It’s my fault you drank yourself stupid that night,” he snarls.

“Yep.”

“My fault you can’t keep that mean little mouth of yours closed around me.”

“Bless your heart-”

“Shut up,” he barks. And you uncharacteristically heed the command for a moment, jaw snapping shut before you stutter.

“I-”

His voice is a whip cracking the air and landing with a single resounding snap. “I said shut up.”  He’s mulling something over and you examine that knife blade of a jaw with darting eyes as it clenches and unclenches.

“Earlier you were asking me to put an end to this funny little bet of ours,” he alleges dangerously and he finally meets your gaze, eyes glittering like twin swords, “Is that still what you want?”

You’re certain you don’t know what he means, but the shudder that tracks your spine and the coinciding lightning strike of scorching heat in your lower belly says otherwise. You swallow hard, lowering your chin to your chest quickly. Too quickly to go unnoticed.

Your uncharacteristic lack of retort hangs heavy in the air, mind staunchly blank.

“I mean,” he interrupts, hand gesturing calmly, whimsically contradicting the venom lacing his tone. “Don’t get me wrong, it was cute for a while-”

“Cute?!” 

 “You picking fights. The quarreling. But now…I think it’s time this ends.”

“End… what. What’s ending?” your voice is too quiet, breathy, so cautious of the tension that is pulling wildly taut from a subtle, pulsing place behind your navel.

“The games,” he intones.

“Games?”

He looks you dead in the eye. “Touch yourself.”

You move without thought. With him balancing on only two chair legs, it’s easy to bring him down with a single, precise kick. A fine slice of terror splits your chest at the terribly loud screech of metal against stone. You spider backward until your back crashes into the balustrade. You turn immediately to peer through the gap between the stones, but as far as you can tell, nobody below heard the clatter. You whip your head back, your entire body an overheating furnace as your breath comes in sharp pants..

You dig deep to rally up some of that vicious loathing from just minutes ago but it’s the way he’s looking at you, sitting up from where he’d been spilled onto the ground, hair disheveled, displeasure plain on the fine slants of his sunlit face. He’s seething but there’s an empty-bellied curiosity there, like he’s rearranging pieces at every turn to figure you out, keen eyes darting between yours. 

“Now why would you go and do that?” 

And there it is. That anger. Anger, you’re familiar with. Anger you can dig your speared little claws into, an infinite wellhead you can work with. 

“Because I wouldn’t trust you as far as I can spit.”

He opens his mouth to retort but now it’s your turn to interrupt. You fall forward, collapsing onto your palms as you lean forward to emphasize.

“Because you’re an asshole. Because you walk around all arrogant like you’re Janna’s fucking gift to mankind, like your opinion is the only one that matters.” Silco rises to a crouch, collapsing back onto his heels, chipped teeth flashing as his head tips back with a strained sigh of frustration. “You think everything is about you, you, you. You’re selfish. You don’t listen to me, you don’t even listen to people who like you. Because Janna forbid Silco doesn’t get what he wants, right? You’re just a little control freak-”

“That’s enough,” his head snaps forward and his gaze narrows on yours with a deadly focus, “My turn.”

With thrilling speed, Silco hooks fingers behind your bent knees and drags your startled form forward between his spread thighs. You sink scrambling talons into the metal shoulder clasps on his vest feeling very much like a cat dangling over an ice bath as he leans forward, forcing you into an uncomfortable back bend. His lips curl acrimonious around each word, hot and cutting as his breath puffs across your face.

“You’ve got your head in the clouds and you can’t separate reality from fiction in that pretty little brain of yours. You only see what you want to see, and you want me to be the bad guy so badly, don’t you, sweetheart?” You lose the death grip, your palms flattening on the ground instead. His long-fingered hands slide to wrap the tops of your thighs to hold you there. “Janna, you’re still sore about something that happened how many months ago, five? Six? You hold grudges like most people hold hands.”

All of your attention goes to running him through with your speared glare. It’s a losing game, trying to absorb what he’s saying when the insides of his thighs scorch so perfectly against the outsides of yours, the points of contact setting aflame the now soaking nexus point between your legs.

“You never even apologized,” you hiss.

“Apologized for what? For your snooping? Oh, you’re so good at it – getting nosy and hurting your own feelings.” 

“Apologize for your lack of an inside voice, and- and-” You stutter, feeling childish, grasping for insults in your tattered state, your breath sweeping a few strands of unkempt hairs across his forehead. “And your big mouth. And your- your giant, stupid nose. If you’d only tilt your head back, you could probably reach Piltover.”

“Nnnh, you’re so fucking frustrating, how you talk to me,” he spits, inches away now, eyes glinting with something perilous and alive. 

“How I talk to you? You always talk down to me!”

Silco’s fingers dig painfully into your thighs. Neither of you stand down, chests brushing each other with each furious breath in, eyes ablaze. His breath hitches when your tongue darts out to wet your lips and he looks almost lost for a few long moments before his gaze ticks back up to yours. 

His voice drops lethally low, a rumbling purr against your breasts. “I bet we’d fuck hard.”

The words make contact like an iron fist to the stomach, stealing your next breath, your spine bowing slightly as your cunt clenches and flutters around nothing at all. You know he feels the punched sigh of breath fan upon his cheekbones, sharp as knives.

“What?” you breathe.

“You want this entire thing to be a fight to the end, don’t you?” His throat bobs dryly and you can’t tell if he’s gotten closer or if his lips were this close to yours before. “You want to push and push, you little hypocrite, until I snap and fuck you the way you’ve been begging me to for months now.”

Greedy little flowers in your chest both wither and bloom as you rake wildly around in his eyes for some telltale glimmer that will call his bluff. You need to move out from under his sharklike gaze. But you’re utterly paralyzed and your wide-eyed stasis is too obvious.

You rile up anger from a quickly drying well.

“Arrogant.  Just like I said.”

“Head in the clouds, just like I said,” he says, voice having lost that angry fervor. 

The tip of his nose brushes barely against yours as he averts his gaze down to your chest, breasts pushed up from your position and rising with quick, shallow breaths. 

Move. 

One hand remains clawed into the clothed skin of your leg while the other drags up to your waist, thumb finding the twitching skin of your hip bone, massaging there much too gently.

“Look at you, all mad and hissing,” he says, almost in wonder, “Except you’re not even mad at me, are you, you’re mad at yourself. So mean to me.” His gaze drops lower. “I should eat you out.”

A thick, golden ribbon of desire unravels fast and pools hot. You squeeze your eyes shut. Those lips, so expressive in the way they shape sound, sheltering in the neglected, burning place between your legs. Worshiping the skin of your inner thighs with featherlike kisses.

“Shut the fuck up,” you snarl.

You throw one closed fist into his chest, the angle too awkward to do anything but merely thump him. You pounce forward, indignation lighting the way as you shove him onto his back. His head smacks lightly against the concrete ground, long hair splaying like a chestnut crown. You feel a flicker of guilt at the strained groan he releases before it’s dashed instantly when his green eyes snap open with a new, laserlike focus. 

Silco snatches long fingers at your waist and rolls his hips deliberately upward.

Your nails dig half-moons into his bare biceps as you fight and fail to reign in an embarrassing whine. Another quiet groan releases in tandem with his when his hands migrate to your ass, gripping and pulling your neglected, clothed pussy across his length again. The pads of his fingers zigzag a tickling pattern up your sides before his thumbs curl around your front to cup and palm your breasts.

“Stop!” you wheeze. He pauses. “You lose. Fair and square.”

“What?” He breathes, all worked up now, thumbs sweeping in an upward arc and catching your stiff nipples. Your jaw falls in a silent cry, head falling to your chest to get your bearings.

“Keep your hands to yourself,” you spit.

You toss his hold off and jab your index finger into his chest hard. “You broke the ‘no heavy petting’ clause. How many times did I tell you no heavy petting? That? That was heavy petting.” 

You’re quivering, trying to ignore the way he’s half-hard and pressing so heavy and delicious against your core, how all you want to do is grind yourself along him again.

Silco looks about ready to throttle you. “You think I care about a bet?”

“Yes, of course you do, your ego can’t handle the tiniest loss.” You prod another finger into his sternum and he snatches the offending wrist, yanking you toward him.

“Enough with the stupid bet,” he hisses.

“Then fork over that cash quick, will you?” He snarls as his own words are thrown back in his face. “You lost. Admit it and we can move on.” 

“Oh no, no.” Silco juts his head forward until he’s growling into your ear. “If I lost, then so did you, because this isn’t at all one-sided, sweetheart. You play dirty. Filthy.”

“Do I?” You turn your head, too, to hiss into his ear, voice crackling with desire. “You know what, fine. I’ll throw a poor man a bone. I’ll give you a second chance and we can pretend you didn’t just cop a feel of my entire ass.”

One set of fingers releases your wrist, slides up the silken slope of your neck until it fists tight into your hair to hold anchor there instead. You squirm when his nose mashes against your temple, dragging back and forth as he grates into your ear. “And I’ll pretend you weren’t just whining into my ear like a little cock-hungry brat.”

“FINE.”

Without much thought, you shove your hand down the front of your pants, fingers diving straight into the slickness between your thighs. With your head tucked against his neck, you get to only imagine the look on his face as his body goes rigid beneath yours: that indelible crease between his brows ironing out in surprise, his jaw slackening as your knuckles unwittingly brush the column of his arousal while you tend to your own. 

You grit into his sweat damp neck. “Loophole. Apparently.” Reaching between your legs proves to be incredibly difficult without arching your spine, wriggling until your ass juts into the air. 

“Janna…”

“I just want the money. Now watch.”

Your knees dig uncomfortably into the hard ground but you push, straining to reach your arm further in order to sink two fingers easily into your drenched pussy with a shuddered, relieved gasp. It’s like he doesn’t know where to put his hands, hovering them ghostlike over your ribs and waist – as if you’re suddenly some delicate thing. 

“You’re wicked,” he breathes, “You have no idea…”

“Suffer.”

His stupor is effectively broken.

“Hold still.” You’re forced to temporarily disengage as he sits up, moving you effortlessly across the concrete until his back hits the marble of the balustrade. 

There’s a terrifying intimacy about being suddenly face to face with your foe, cum-slick fingers digging into the sides of his vest for purchase. And Silco looks absolutely wrecked, head falling back against the stone, face flushed and savage as he takes you in fully with pupils blown wide.

You feel too seen in this position, need the shelter of the crux of his neck but he doesn’t allow it, calloused palm quickly wrapping a loose necklace around the column of your throat to hold you still.

“Loopholes,” he taunts, squeezing lightly enough that you can pull away if you want to, but enough that he most definitely feels your anxious swallow. “Nervous?”

You eviscerate him with a fierce glare. It’s easier in this position to shove down your pants and reach the drenched wetness between your legs again. “No.” 

“Good girl,” he says with a breathtaking grin.

You swallow down the pleasured keen that rises to your throat with those two words, fingers slick and instantly moving at a desperate pace.

That’s it,” he says. Silco’s wild eyes rove over your stiff, vibrating form like you’ll disappear at any moment. “Feels so good, doesn’t it, letting go.”

“I’m n- I’m not. L-Letting go of anything, you bastard.” 

“Of course you aren’t.”

One of his long-fingered hands glides down to smooth over the impressive bulge pushing tight against the front fabric of his pants– up and down, up and down slowly palming himself. Abdomen tightening in his attempts to thrust with the movement, even as you have him pinned. You can’t take your eyes off it and if you weren’t so insane with arousal you would’ve been embarrassed by the way your mouth waters. 

“Sometimes,” he says,  “I think you want me all to yourself.”

“False.”

“That night at the bar. You saw me talking to someone else and you didn’t like it very much, did you?” 

“Saved her a dry and p-pitiful fuck.” A ragged huff of laughter pulls from his throat because he can hear the hypocrisy of your words, the furious back and forth schlick of your fingers. “You deserved the loss.”

He hums appreciatively. “But look what I’ve won.”

Something terribly warm and possessive ghosts across the hollow of your chest like feathers upon harp strings and you move unwittingly faster, like you can punish him for it. His temple settles against your cheekbone as his head dips to better watch your frantic ministrations beneath the fabric of your pants.

Silco releases a starved, shuddering sigh that drifts across your bare collarbone and the hand he had upon his clothed cock lifts to wrap your free wrist. He slides it up his leg until it reaches his upper thigh, where he curls your fingers in silent challenge.

End this.

His skin burns catastrophically hot beneath your palm and you can only imagine the raging column of hard heat that would greet you if you moved the pads of your fingers just a few inches up. 

You muffle a soft whine, pressing your neck into his stiff palm to steal a further, more keening cry as your index finger catches your clit in a particularly delicious way. Pleasure drops like a stone in your lower belly and you feel the spark of an approaching release.

“I know, sweetheart,” he whines back into your ear, almost mockingly. Your jaw drops in a bid for air as he squeezes the span of two breaths from you before releasing. “It’s all so difficult, isn’t it?”

“Janna, you’re the f-fucking worst.” You gasp as soon as you can and he pulls back to look at you with an almost fondness. “I can’t stand you-” 

Lightning quick, fingers peel off your sweat slick neck to press and invade the cavern of your mouth, sliding two digits across your tongue before pulling back to catch on the ridge of your teeth, thumb arcing electric under to grip your jaw in warning.

“Be nice.”

You mean to protest, to bite down, but instead find yourself sucking the digits greedily back into your mouth.

“We don’t have to fuck like animals, you know,” he says, watching you work almost reverently. “Although, maybe that’s what you need. Get all that aggression out. Must be exhausting, hm?”

“Nnh nnh,” you protest and he slides the pads of his fingers back across your tongue until you gag, eyes clouding with water as he scissors them around before pulling back.

“We can go slow, though, if that’s what you want.” He hums quietly. “We’ve got time.”

Silco tucks a loose piece of hair behind your ear and it’s so fucking soft, so contradictory to the way he fucks his fingers into your mouth. You feel yourself melting and it’s terrible and wonderful, and your eyes squeeze shut.

“Go ahead and lose, sweetheart,” he says softly, “Lose and I’ll replace those pretty fingers of yours with my tongue.”

And you’re so close, so close to moving that hand upward – moving it so you can finish on his mouth, so you can put an end to all this tension you hadn’t even known had been rising all along.

But he stiffens suddenly beneath you and through the haze of pleasure you’re scrabbling for reality as he suddenly presses your face into his neck to quiet your cries, shushing you urgently.

“Quiet, quiet, quiet,” he whispers, reaching between your bodies to free the hand working in your pants. You cling, confused, to his vest as you pant, coming down from the precipice of orgasm, feeling cheated and ready to fight until you hear it, too.

The scuffle of multiple pairs of boots on metal, coming up the stairs.

“Run.”

<3 <3 <3

Thank you so much for reading, I can't wait to put these idiots to bed in Part 2. If you feel so inclined, reblog/leave a comment - I'd love to hear what you thought. If you liked, check out my other works here!

Thank you to my beautiful, whip smart betas for supporting me through this funny lil endeavor @sherwood-forests @averagecrastinator

Happy Birthday, Ink

[totes-tubulardude]

Little Shadow

I do read your comments I swear 🙏 and I saw that a few people were wondering about Howzer and how his size shifting ability was revealed to the Sydullas :) (will be expanding on this when I actually write this in a fic format 🤞)

Howzer had been a little skeptical when he'd learned that he was being promoted from an ARC trooper to a clone captain. However based on the message he received from Rex, he figured that all those hours training with the Command Batch had really payed off.

While Rex was being placed under newly knighted General Skywalker of the 501st battalion, Howzer was being sent to the outer rim. The battalion he was joining didn't have a set Jedi general, instead operating within the 237th Sky Corps. He was happy he was with Bly at least.

That changed after it became clear that Ryloth was going to continue to be an osik show. Howzer and his men were shipped to serve under Cham Syndulla, a formidable freedom fighter. He wasn't entirely sure what to expect, serving under a natborn officer that wasn't a Jedi. He knew that so far, the few of his vode that had revealed their modification to their Jedi, the Generals had been relatively receptive to it. However, each time Howzer thought about it, he was reminded of Andin on Kamino. That woman's words still haunted his dreams. He knew Rex had yet to inform his own general, so Howzer didn't think it was a pressing issue to inform Syndulla.

The Twi'lek freedom fighters had been wary fo them at first, not sure if they could be trusted or if they were even sentient. Soon enough though, tensions dissipated as they grew to know each other. As it turned out, Cham had a rather charming family, including the little trouble maker who always had her eyes on the sky, Hera.

He wasn't sure what had really started it all, but soon enough he found that he had a constant shadow in the form of the little Twi'leks girl. She was happy to teach him some Ryl to communicate with some of the older fighters, and in return he helped her improve her basic.

The longer Howzer was on Ryloth the more he realized that if he kept pushing off informing General Syndulla of his size shifting ability, it was going to be an even more rough meeting. But he couldn't bring himself to do it, even though at times he knew that he could have, Howzer feared that bright eyed and excited look in Hera's eyes would turn to fear. That she would see him as a monster, just like he'd been told he was all through his cadet years.

That all changed when he found himself and Hera tumbling into a deep cave water reservoir with no easy way out...