#now all the idiots in my replies talking about freeing hostages can fuck off thank u very much

[chaiaurchaandni]

israel doesnt gaf about its own citizens so it is actually insane to imagne theyre trying to prevent palestinian civilian casualties

also: israel currently has thousands of Palestinian prisoners in israeli jails and many of them are charged under 'administrative detention' - which means pretty much nothing; it is an empty excuse to hold Palestinians hostage. their families and lawyers dont know where theyve been kept and for what theyve been arrested. many of these prisoners are children.

israel recently killed 2 Palestinians in idf custody while Palestinian resistance released 2 israelis on humanitarian grounds even tho the state of israel refused to receive them

#now all the idiots in my replies talking about freeing hostages can fuck off thank u very much #free palestinian prisoners in israeli jails #idf is a terrorist org #free palestine #death to israel

[elwenyere]

A Very Small Grease Fire (and Other Human Disasters)

(Thanksgiving ficlet for the Stony and Avengers fam; also on AO3)

The Avengers didn’t have the best track record with Thanksgiving. The first time the dinner had ended in disaster, it had been Steve’s fault. One rainy fall Sunday, just months after the Battle of New York, Steve had been picking at a bowl of mint-chip ice cream, feeling tired of getting looks of sympathy about the holidays and absolutely exhausted by feeling sorry for himself. If Bruce and Clint hadn’t chosen that particular afternoon to ask him whether there was anything special he wanted for Thanksgiving – raising the question with just enough gentleness to make Steve’s jaw tighten – he probably would have said, “I’m a sweet potatoes guy” and left it at that.

Instead, Steve had been seized by a spirit of mischief. Putting on his most morose poker face, he had proceeded to invent a series of Depression-era dishes, from “Hoover Rolls” to “Poor Man’s Potatoes,” the recipes for which he concocted out of the blandest ingredients he could imagine. By the time he was in the process of describing his third Crisco-based dessert, Steve was sure he had gone far enough to reveal the joke; but Bruce and Clint had continued nodding encouragingly and jotting down notes.

The results had been borderline inedible. And even though the sight of Tony doubled over with laughter when Steve finally fessed up had thawed out a part of his heart he hadn’t even known was still on ice, the experience of eating a holiday dinner in which half the dishes tasted like over-starched socks forced even Steve to admit that the prank had been a bit of a Pyrrhic victory.

The second time…well, Steve would have said the second time was his fault too – though he supposed the rest of the team would blame the extremists who tried to kidnap the governor. Clint had just started basting the turkey when the “Assemble” alarm went off, and the team had to pile in the Quinjet to deal with a hostage situation at the capitol. It should have been an easy job – in and out with plenty of time to take the butter for the piecrust out of the freezer – but then one of the extremists had pulled the pin on a grenade just yards away from a state senator’s eight-year-old son, and four hours later Steve was waking up in the burn unit at Walter Reed hospital with the anguished sound of someone shouting his name still ringing in his ears.

“You fucking idiot,” the same voice had greeted him, and Steve looked up to see Tony sitting by his bed, the lines around his eyes drawn tight over a surgical mask. “You’re supposed to be a tactical genius, and you haven’t learned a single new method for containing explosives since basic training in 1943? I’m going to equip your suit with goddamn ballistic plates.”

“Tony,” Steve managed, feeling a halo of pain radiate up his scalp. “Are you okay? Was anyone hurt?”

Steve thought he saw something mist across Tony’s eyes, but he couldn’t be sure. The more fully he became aware of his body, the more he noticed the pull of his skin cells contracting in uneven loops around the burns on his torso, and it was taking a considerable amount of energy to keep Tony’s face in focus.

“Everybody’s fine but you, Steve,” Tony assured him. “And the doctors said you should be able to move to the general floor in a few hours. So shut those baby blues and let the serum do its job, because there’s a whole team of keyed-up superheroes waiting to see you, and they’re emptying the hospital vending machines fast enough to cause a run on the Frito-Lay factory.”

Steve had drifted in and out of consciousness for a while after that, finally waking up long enough to eat a holiday dinner of contraband take-out, which Natasha had smuggled into the hospital using only Thor’s tendency to knock over delicate instruments and Bruce’s oversized jacket.

“When you sign up to be an Avenger, no one warns you about doing overtime as a falafel mule,” Bruce had mused, leaning back to let Natasha steal a fry off his plate.

“I still think we could have gotten that eighth kebab if you’d been willing to consider pant legs as additional real estate,” she told him.

"You should all be eating stuffing and pumpkin pie,” Steve grimaced. “I’m sorry you’re stuck here on Thanksgiving.”

“Listen, Cap,” Clint replied, waving a dolma at him, “if you’re going to apologize for anything, apologize for the purgatory potatoes you tricked me into making last year. At least this year we have food that doesn’t have the texture of fast-drying cement.”

“Those tubers had truly been abandoned by the gods,” Thor agreed solemnly. “But I maintain that the Big Band Banana Pie was actually quite delicious.”

“Just don’t make the third-degree burns and hypovolemic shock a holiday habit, Rogers,” Tony put in. “Some of us are trying to watch our blood pressure.”

Tony had leaned over to adjust the settings on Steve’s bed as he spoke, and by the time he finished, a dull tugging sensation across Steve’s chest had loosened – the pain subsiding almost before Steve could register that it had been bothering him.

So that was why, after two years of throwing wrenches in the Avengers’ Thanksgiving plans, Steve was determined to make sure that year three went off without a hitch. He’d drawn up an elaborate plan for maximizing the utility of the Tower kitchen’s two ovens and seven burners and for optimizing the team’s various culinary skills. The operatives had been briefed the night before, and by 10:30 AM on Thursday, Steve was fluting a pie crust, Bruce was stripping fresh thyme leaves into an herb blend, Clint was whipping up a roux for the mushroom gravy, Thor was mashing potatoes and parsnips in an industrial-strength metal vat, and Natasha was dicing carrots and celery with a speed and precision that felt vaguely unsettling.

After checking the team’s progress against his itinerary, Steve turned to the next task on his own list: bringing Tony Stark his emergency coffee. Bruce had just made a second pot, and Steve poured some into the largest cup he could find: a purple novelty mug, featuring a drawing of the Hulk and the words “You Wouldn’t Like Me Without My Coffee.” He paused to tuck a few biscuits into a napkin (Tony’s relief at sighting fresh coffee sometimes opened up a narrow window during which Steve could feed him breakfast without being noticed), and headed down to the lab.

He found Tony standing with both arms braced against his worktable, designs for what looked like the paneling of Steve’s uniform projected in front of him. Steve cleared his throat, and Tony whirled around, the slump of his shoulders morphing into a graceful lounge by the time he was facing Steve.

“I was just about to come up,” he said. “I have a few finishing touches left here and then I’m all yours, Cap. Give me everything that can survive being the tiniest bit overcooked.”

Steve walked over to put Tony’s coffee on the table and then felt his breath catch in his throat when Tony reached out and took the mug from his hand instead.

“There’s no need,” Steve responded to cover his reaction, flexing the hand that had brushed Tony’s as he let it fall back to his side. “We’ve got the schedule covered for now. I was actually hoping I could talk you into a snack break.”

He waved the napkin of biscuits experimentally.

“Are you cutting me from the Thanksgiving roster, Rogers?” Tony asked. “Just because one time I set a very small grease fire – which I contained almost immediately, by the way.”

“The vase I broke when I sprinted into the kitchen would beg to differ,” Steve smiled. “But it’s not that. I just wanted to do this for you: a big dinner and sitting down with family.”

“For me?” Tony blinked at him. “Why?”

Steve started to cross his arms across his chest before realizing that he would risk crushing the biscuits. He settled for clasping his wrist with his free hand instead, widening his stance slightly and taking a deep breath. Come on, Rogers. Take it on the chin.

“Because I wanted to tell you that I woke up in this century alone,” he said, “and that you were the first person stubborn enough to make sure I wouldn’t stay that way. Now I wake up to a kitchen full of people who tease me about my lists but who know why I need them – who will eat dinner rolls that taste like soggy chalk just to make me feel at home.” He paused. “People who stay by my side for eight straight hours at the hospital.”

Steve looked up and caught Tony’s eyes, his heart rate picking up speed as memories of those same eyes flashed through his mind in quick succession: tearing up with laughter over a plate of cornstarched bananas, pinched with fear over a surgical mask, narrowed in concentration over the remote control for an adjustable bed.

“Romanov has an awfully big mouth for a spy,” Tony said with a rueful smile.

“I think it was a tactical leak,” Steve acknowledged, “to motivate her mark. She knew I needed a push. Because I’ve messed up the past two years, and I needed to tell you: pretty much everything I’m thankful for in my new life is here because of you.”

Tony was staring at him, his eyes darting quickly across Steve’s face as if JARVIS were scanning it for data. Steve held up under the silent scrutiny as long as he could before letting out an explosive breath.

“Anyway, sorry to interrupt you,” he said quickly. “You’ve got work to do, and I’ve got to go make sure everything’s on track upstairs. I’ll uh – I’ll have Bruce come get you when dinner’s ready.”

He started to make an about face toward the door, but Tony caught his arm and held him in place.

“Give a guy a goddamn minute, Steve,” he said softly. “I’m having to do a major cognitive reboot over here. It takes a while for the operating system to come back online. Just…sit down? Let me show you the new flame retardants I’m adding to your uniform.”

Steve complied. And as he watched Tony run through the specs, gulping coffee and nibbling absently at the biscuits, he realized that he knew what Tony was saying even before Tony finally spoke the words: “I’m thankful every time you wake up.”

#stony #stevetony #stony fic #festive ficlets #avengers as family #idiots in love #they're human disasters your honor #this got out of hand #and personally I blame every single character in this Tower #happy thanksgiving #stony fam

[morganaspendragonss]

Bad Things Happen Bingo Masterpost!

And that's a wrap on my @badthingshappenbingo card! Thanks to anybody and everybody who requested a square - this has been so, so fun! I've had this card for years and have been actively working on it for a year and a half, so it's incredible to have finally finished it 🥰

Prompts and Fills listed below the cut:

Used in Sacrifice/Ritual - Filled

you would be the one to rescue me | BBC Atlantis | Jason x Pythagoras

When Jason wakes, Pythagoras is gone.

This in itself is not so strange. What is strange, however, is that his cloak has been left behind despite there being a significant chill in the air. And when Hercules begins to wake, and there is still no sign, Jason knows.

Something's wrong.

Rage Against the Reflection - Filled

out, damned spot | 9-1-1: Lone Star | TK x Carlos

TK wakes up gasping, choking on air. The sheets are suffocating him and, when he tries to free himself, they only seem to get tighter. The hands reaching out for him, trying to calm him, are the final straw; TK throws himself from bed and sprints to the bathroom, slamming and locking the door behind him as he collapses against the sink.

On some level, he is aware that the hands were Carlos’s, that the sheets were theirs, that his hands are clean, and that the dream was just a dream.

But they weren't always that way.

Falling Through the Ice - Filled

ice in my veins | 9-1-1: Lone Star | TK x Carlos

Carlos only turns away for a second, he swears. Unfortunately, a second is clearly ample time for his boyfriend to get into trouble because when Carlos turns back around, TK is no longer standing where he left him.

Instead, there’s a sizable hole in the ice.

Flashbacks - Filled

start again from the beginning | 9-1-1: Lone Star | TK & Owen

Owen trusts his son. He’s watched TK fight his addiction and stay sober for the last six years, and he has faith that he can handle himself.

But when TK doesn’t show up for work the night after proposing to Alex, Owen knows that something is wrong. After all, they've been here before.

Branding - Filled

setting fire to our insides for fun | Supernatural | Meg x Cas

Cas had been prepared to find demons. Frankly, he would have been concerned if he didn’t find demons, given that that was his mission here. What he hadn’t been prepared for, however, was to find two demons torturing another, pressing the hot end of a branding iron into her forearm.

He killed the two torturers with practised ease, barely wasting a moment before they were both on the dirty, wooden floor, eyes burned out their sockets. Only then did he allow his surprise to catch up to him, breathing heavily as his gaze settled on someone he hadn’t seen in a long time.

Meg.

Memory Loss - Filled

focal point | 9-1-1: Lone Star | TK x Carlos

Waking up in the hospital is becoming all too familiar. Being the one in the bed is less so, but Carlos has had his fair share of hospital trips. He knows the drill.

As soon as he sees him awake, TK breaks out in harsh sobs. "Carlos," he breathes. "I... I thought I'd lost you."

Caught in an Explosion - Filled

can we skip past near death cliches? | 9-1-1: Lone Star | TK x Carlos

It’s the kind of call every first responder dreads. A bomb threat in an apartment block, civilian’s lives on the line, the whole situation a hair’s breadth away from disaster. And Carlos is right in the middle of it.

tw: explosions, bombs

Forced to Kneel/Bow - Filled

in case you don’t live forever (let me tell you now) | 9-1-1: Lone Star | TK x Carlos

His teammates were still sitting in the communal area when TK entered, eyes glued to the tv screen. Paul was the first to notice him, and TK’s concern only grew as he got everyone else’s attention, their worried gazes falling on him one by one.

“There’s a hostage situation at that big, fancy hotel across town," Marjan explained. "Apparently it’s pretty serious, they’ve had to send police in, and, um, well…”

Marjan paused, and TK felt dread wash through him, knowing what her next words would be.

“Carlos is there, TK. He’s gone in.”

tw: references to gun violence

Be Careful What You Wish For - Filled

can you beat back the night? | The Witcher | Geralt x Jaskier

He misses the bard. Geralt won’t admit it, not even to Roach, but he misses him. After months—years—of Jaskier’s constant chatter and the sound of his lute, the silence, once valued above all else, is too much.

It’s been months since the dragon, since Geralt lost both Yennefer and Jaskier in one fell swoop. He’s cursed himself many times over for the words he said—to both of them—and cursed himself more for the mistakes he made to get in this position in the first place.

*

this is the lot of witchers, to be alone.

Blood From the Mouth - Filled

I Got You | 9-1-1: Lone Star | TK x Carlos, TK & 126 Crew

“I’m just sayin’,” Judd says, waving his arms around. “Somebody’s gonna get themselves killed in there one of these days. I had to come out here three times last year because of some idiots who think they know better than the ‘Keep Out’ signs.”

The team are called to an abandoned house where some kids are trapped. Everything is going smoothly, which, naturally, means that it won't be that way for much longer.

Trapped in a Burning Building - Filled

a little unsteady | 9-1-1: Lone Star | TK x Carlos

9-1-1, What's your emergency?

'Please, help! My house is on fire and my husband’s inside!'

or

t.k. sometimes wonders if the universe is out to get him

Worked Themselves to Exhaustion - Filled

In Your Arms | 9-1-1: Lone Star | TK x Carlos, Michelle & TK

T.K. and Carlos agreed when they started dating to check-in on each other that they were both okay. Reassurance that nothing bad had happened. So, when Carlos hasn't replied hours after his shift is supposed to have finished, T.K.'s definitely beginning to panic. 

Locked in a Cage - Filled

running out of time | Shadowhunter Chronicles | Kit x Ty

When (if) they got out of here, Kit wanted the record to unequivocally state that this wasn’t his fault. Not that it was Ty's either, but it certainly wasn't Kit's.

or

kit and ty's first hunt together after three years goes wrong and they wind up trapped in a cage with no way out. naturally, this leads to a heartfelt conversation.

Demonic/Ghostly Possession - Filled

Haunting | 9-1-1: Lone Star | TK x Carlos, TK & Owen

T.K. is five when he first sees a ghost, though, of course, he doesn’t know that it’s a ghost. His name is Joey, and he lives in the playground, which T.K. thought was a little strange, but he doesn’t want to ask. Dad says it’s rude to ask questions like that to someone he’s just met.

Fingore - Filled

ease my mind | 911: Lone Star | TK x Carlos

Briefly, Carlos considers calling TK and telling him about the accident. But… He only broke two of his fingers and it barely even classifies as a minor injury in his book, so there’s really no reason to bother his fiancé while he’s still on shift himself. He pockets his phone then looks around to figure out where the exit is.

Only, an all-too familiar laugh distracts him from his task, drawing his attention to the nurses station.

Where TK is standing, smiling as a nurse swats at him for stealing one of their lollipops.

Carlos is, beyond doubt, fucked.

Verbal Abuse - Filled

this is a song about somebody else | 9-1-1: Lone Star | TK x Carlos, TK & Marjan

TK doesn't notice the 126's latest visitor until it's too late. He freezes as Alex smiles at him, knocked off balance by this sudden intrusion of his old life into his new one.

or

alex vists tk at the 126. luckily, tk has his family to help him through it.

tw: abusive language

Dying in Their Arms - Filled

can you hear me screaming (please don’t leave me) | 9-1-1: Lone Star | TK x Carlos

As a cop, Carlos has to deal with all kinds of cases, and not all of them end well. But never in his life did he imagine that he'd have to respond to an incident involving his own boyfriend.

tw: major character death

Blindfolded - Filled

find you here inside the dark | Doctor Who | Thirteen x Yaz

Yaz has walked this room too many times to count now; she’s traced her fingertips over the walls, searching for any cracks or crevices to indicate where there might be a door.

If the Doctor were here, she’d have her sonic out by now, spitting out words, only half of which Yaz could understand. She’d find a way out in no time. Or, if not, at least she’d be here. Talking a mile a minute, probably annoying the hell out of their captors. Yaz can almost hear her now—

Wait.

She can hear her now.

Water Torture - Filled

soggy clothes and breezeblocks | 9-1-1: Lone Star | TK x Carlos

Carlos wakes up slowly. He cracks his eyes open, wincing at the pounding in his head. He lifts his hand to massage the pain away, only to discover that his hand won't move, the cool metal of handcuffs biting viciously into his wrist.

After an undercover mission goes wrong, Carlos is forced to fight for his life. And to make matters worse, his kidnappers are making sure that T.K. is watching the entire thing.

tw: torture

Fighting from the Inside - Filled

and curse the gods | BBC Atlantis | Jason & Medusa

Jason knows what it is to be cursed.

Slammed into a Wall - Filled

mind over matter (matter over mind) | 9-1-1: Lone Star | TK x Carlos, TK & Owen

After a night out goes wrong, TK and Carlos are left to deal with the consequences.

tw: homophobia, hate crimes, hiding an injury

Suicide Attempt - Filled

be done with this now | 9-1-1: Lone Star | TK x Carlos

Once upon a time, Carlos had thought that watching as his almost-boyfriend was whisked off in an ambulance, bullet wound in his chest, would be the worst moment of his life. Then TK had been kidnapped, and Carlos had spent hours not knowing where he was, if he was alive or dead, and he thought - this is it. Nothing can top this.

But, having to perform CPR on his husband, having to hold him as he slipped away in his arms?

That was worse than even his nightmares.

tw: suicide attempt, suicidal thoughts, depression, drug abuse, overdosing

Bleeding Through the Bandages - Filled

pull you in to feel your heartbeat | 9-1-1: Lone Star | TK x Carlos

The call comes at the tail end of Carlos’s shift, and he instantly hates whichever idiot decided to ruin his night by mugging someone.

What he's not expecting is to find his boyfriend on the ground, bleeding out from a stab wound.

Arm in a Sling - Filled

have you been involved in an accident at work? | 9-1-1: Lone Star | TK & 126 Crew, TK x Carlos

T.K. was on his way to the hospital. Again.

At least this time he could say with absolute certainty that it 100% wasn't his fault.

Self-Harm - Filled

but god i wanna feel again | 9-1-1: Lone Star | TK x Carlos

Carlos blames himself for not noticing. It's not like he had much choice in the matter; he hasn't seen T.K. all week, and his texts have been going unanswered, but he can't help but feel like it's partly his fault.

If only T.K. would actually talk about himself, instead of keeping it all in.

tw: self-harm

#bad things happen bingo #fanfiction #my fanfiction #writing #my writing #send me prompts! #masterlist

[queakenstein]

Hello Queaky! Hope you are okay in this whole corona situation! Could you do Zelink where Zelda is stubborn daughter of president and Link is her personal bodyguard??

I’m doing fine and I hope you are too!! <3 Hopefully, you enjoy this! (sorry, it took so long to get it out, I had to rewrite it because I’m an idiot.)

__________________________

The music is swelling from somewhere below as her foot touches the cold ledge beneath the window she is sitting half-way out of. It’s some kind of jazz-y number that’s sure to get the crowd moving but it’s only making her dinner want to vacate her stomach. It’s reminding her too much of the fake smiles and obscene amount of cologne use. Zelda tucks the tastefully curled hair framing her face behind her ears and shakes off the other heel. Keeping in mind that she’s about three-stories high, she quickly decides that this dress is one of the worst decisions she’s ever made.

After all, she’s plenty used to sneaking out of ‘the palace’. 

“Uh?” A voice startles her. “Seriously?”

Zelda’s head shoots up and one of those curls lands directly across her nose. “This isn’t what it looks like!” 

Link, dressed in particularly formal attire for his usual jeans and a t-shirt loving self, blinks at her and drums his fingers against the two champagne flutes in his head. “So, excuse me for asking, Princess, but what exactly is it supposed to look like?” 

“I just--” A conversation drifts up on the night air and she stops. She knows what it will look like to others if they catch her and they definitely would not think it has anything to do with her sneaking out. She slips back in as gracefully as she can given the rather well fitting dress she has on and huffs. “I wanted to bail.” Zelda crosses her arms drops her chin to her chest. “You had to go and ruin it.”

Link scoffs. “So, it’s my fault?” He downs one of the drinks in a swift motion that almost surprises her had she not seen how well the man can take a double shot. “Not fair.” Link ponders the other glass for a moment before finally handing it over to her. “My job is to keep you safe. I’d appreciate it if you didn’t complicate the whole me-paying-my-rent thing by throwing yourself out windows.”

“I wasn’t throwing myself out.” She glares, swirls the liquid around with half a mind to attempt his maneuver before telling herself it would just make her vomit. “I’ve done this plenty of times. For most of my early teens.”

“Well, you’re twenty-two now. Don’t you think it’s time you learned to use the backdoor?” He leans against the wall next to the window she’s seated on and sighs, tiredly. “Listen, I know you hate this and, honestly, I hate it for you too. It’s not right what your dad is doing--”

“Is this the part where you tell the hostage that she just needs to shut up and deal with it?” Her tone doesn’t lend itself any particular viciousness but he can tell she’s angry. “Because, I really, really don’t need you to tell me to suck it up.”

Link bobs his head forward a bit. “Yeah, you kind of do.”

“Excuse me?” Zelda’s head snaps to him and she glares. “You wanna repeat that?”

“Hey, hey, hey.” He holds his hands up. “Listen! Just for a second and let me explain.” Link points to the party going on beneath them. “His term will be ending in just a couple months. I know you hate being his beautiful, smart, charitable little darling but if you can suck it up for just a bit then you’re free.” Link shrugs. “I know you hate being the figurehead that he has made you to be and I certainly know how much you hate the pressure of the fame... but if you just let me help you through this last stretch then... maybe it won’t be so bad.” He smirks. “And maybe you don’t have to climb out windows.”

Zelda rolls her eyes. “Easy for you to say, you own everything you have. I don’t. He has them all tied up with the promise that as long as I smile and continue on being  the sweet ‘princess’ Zelda who helps her father with all of his charities, who fights the good fight for the lesser people, who is beautiful, and smart but gracefully... and certainly not anything but this pure beacon of light... That I’ll have my classes paid for and he will help me open up my sanctuary.”

“You’d do those things anyway.” Link takes her empty glass from her and sits it down next to him as he slides down the wall to sit. “It’s not like you’re a raging bitch or anything.” He chuckles.

“It’s the pressure of perfection.” She manages to plop down next to him despite the protests of her dress and lays her head against his shoulder. “I don’t mind the other stuff but I have to always watch what I do or else it’s a bad tabloid.”

“What does it matter if there’s no more terms after this?”

“His stellar record and he has businesses he’d like to set up after this.” There’s a long pause while the two sit. Music and bits of conversations from those now milling about in the back garden carry to them on the air.

“So, where were you going to go after getting down from the window?” 

“There’s some stables down the road from here. Thought I might go down and hang out with the horses.”

“In that dress?”

“The plan was to get out. Everything else would just... file in later.” 

Link snorts. “You don’t have a change of clothes or anything in your room?”

Zelda laughs. “It took three people to get me into this dress. I had planned to sneak out for a little bit then come back for the finale--”

“Smelling like a stable?”

“Shh.” She covers his mouth. “So I could say good-bye then return to my room and rip this stupid thing off.” She removes her hand and drops it in her lap.

“I can help you know?” He smiles.

Zelda half gasps and half laughs. “Did you just use a line on me? No, thanks, I can get out of it on my own--”

“That’s not what I meant.” He levels an unamused expression at her then add, “Also, rude.” Link stands and holds a hand out to help her up. “I meant that I can help you get out of here for a bit.”

“Oh.” She blushes. “H-How are you going to do that then?”

He smirks. “The backdoor.” Then yanks her up hard enough that she comes off the ground and into his arms. Though she scrowls at him, he asks with a grin. “Tell me, honestly, though... you’ve never at least... you know, thought about it?” He lifts his eyebrows and laughs.

“You’re so gross.” She laughs, a sound that rings down the hallway, and pushes his face away from hers with one hand before snagging his chin to pull it back. “Wait,” Her face darkens into a deep rosey shade, “does that mean you have?!”

“Not if you haven’t.” He replies and puts her down so he can step away. “After all, wouldn’t be a nice story if the princess starts dating her knight...”

Zelda hums. “Maybe not.” She slips her hand into his and smiles. “But, maybe... if she were to go on a... trial date with her friend then it wouldn’t be so bad.”

“Well,” He squeezes her hand and let’s go. “We can talk about that after we get you through this party.” He motions for her to follow. “C’mon. One of the chefs is a friend of mine and I’m sure he will help us sneak out through the kitchen.”

“And how will we get into the kitchen without it looking super odd?” She indicates the dress she’s wearing. “Not exactly what one would wear in there.”

“Or for scaling walls but here we are.” They slip passed a group of attendees as they climb the stairs. No doubt they are all going up to the third floor balcony for all the beautiful group photo opportunities. It won’t be long before everyone beings to truly mill about the place save for the few very secure, private rooms. “We can merely say something about making sure the dessert is going well and just leave from there.”

“Why would I check that?”

“You know, you worry about everyone watching every move you make but, really, this sort of thing wouldn’t be all that weird. Aren’t you like... the co-host of this party?” He extends his elbow to her as they enter the hallway that leads into the main part of the first floor.

“You’re surprising clever sometimes, Link.” 

“I wish you’d tell me that more often.”

“Am I honestly that mean to you?”

He chuckles and shakes his head. “No, but you really do make this job interesting.” He glances at her out of the corner of his eye. “You know, if I were to take a very good friend out on a date... I think I would take her bowling.”

“Bowling?” She quirks an eyebrow at him.

“Yeah. Not something I think every girl who actually wears ballgowns about ten times out of the year has ever done... and I think she would have fun.” They are caught by a couple of officials which halt their progress but Zelda handles them as beautifully as she was taught. They avoid the ballroom and slip into the madhouse of the kitchen. Link’s friend spots them almost immediately and Zelda is shocked at the speed that he agrees to help them slip out. It’s as simple as them just exchanging quick cover stories and suddenly she’s out in the night air. Link approaches on of the guards playing with his phone on a golf cart and she watches as he slaps something into the man’s hand. “Come on, let’s go pet some horses.”

She climbs onto the vehicle and they’re off.  “I can’t believe it was that easy....” Dread and panic swirls in her stomach. “What if someone sees us drive off?”

“Night pictures and selfies around the property for your Nstagram.” Link smirks. “It is a beautiful night and perfect for that kind of thing.” He bumps her with his shoulder. “I think you get stuck on the big picture sometimes... and you forget to ask for help.”

She nods but refuses to agree, vocally. She likes being able to rely on herself. “How much money did you pay that man back there for this?”

“Oh, that wasn’t money.”

Zelda’s get wide. “Well... what was it?”

Link pats her head and chuckles. “Herbal medicine.”

“Link! Oh, my Goddess. You carry that on you? Don’t you know that’s illegal.” She takes a deep breath and then breathes out. “Holy fuck, how do you work for the government?”

“Because I can kill a man with my bare hands and there’s very few people in this world who can stop me without putting a bullet in my head?” Link doesn’t take his eyes off the road then scoffs. “Your father pays me good money to keep you safe, Zelda... and as much as he tries to keep your record clean... well, let’s just say that he makes a few exceptions when it comes to my employment.”

“I... I know he said you came with a stellar background and I’ve seen you fight before--Scary, by the way-- and I know he’s done some shady things... but are you telling me that one of your stipulations in your contract is that you can smoke pot?”

“Yep.” He laughs. “Also, bowling... would you be interested?”

“Still on about that?” She snorts and smiles. “Yeah, I’ve never done it before but sure... I’d love to.”

“As a date?”

She bites her lip. “Are we talking like... a romantic see where this could go kind of thing. Kind of date?”

“That’s what a date is, yeah.” He adds after a quick pause. “After all of this is over.”

“You’d wait a couple of months for one date?”

They arrive at the stable and come to a halt. Link turns to her and smiles in a very soft way. “I’ve waited a bit longer than that to ask you on one.” He takes her hand. “If you really aren’t interested in me like that then it’s fine. I’m a big boy and I’m fine hearing no.”

“I’d love to.”

“Oh!” He beams and lifts her hand up to kiss it. “Awesome.” Link slips out of the golf cart to help her down. “Now, come on, we’ll go see the horses for a bit and then hurry back.

[bangtaninink]

Kisses down low by Kelly Rowland, yoongi, mafia au😊

Kisses Down Low

here’s the song!

“You better start talking, Lee,” Jeongguk says, smirking as he wipes his knuckles with a dirty cloth, swatting away the single lightbulb that dangles from the ceiling. “Our boss here doesn’t really understand the concept of mercy.”

“Fuck you,” Lee says, spitting out a mouthful of blood at Yoongi’s shoes.

“Oh, you’ve gone and done it now,” Taehyung taunts, throwing his head back as he laughs loudly from where he sits in an old wooden chair, much like the one their hostage is currently tied to. “Say your final prayers. I’ll make a note to let Namjoon hyung send your wife a kids a little parting gift once we’ve buried you in your shallow grave out back.”

At the mention of his family, Lee’s eyes grow wide, demeanour changing completely. He opens his mouth, ready to plead and beg for lenience, but it’s of no use. Yoongi chuckles lowly, resting a hand on Jeongguk’s shoulder, a silent invitation for the younger to step aside.

“I didn’t realise the Silver Serpent Clan has started to employ weaklings,” Yoongi says, unbuttoning his suit jacket. “Usually it’d take more than just the mere mention of a child before they start cracking under pressure.” He doesn’t turn when Taehyung stands, arm extended to take Yoongi’s jacket once he’s slipped it off, returning back to his chair. “Hyunwoo must be getting desperate.”

“Mmm, but what’s new, boss?” Jeongguk says, fingers splayed in front of him as he inspects the back of his hand, knuckles red with blood. “The Silver Serpents have always been a bunch of pussies.”

“That’s true.” Yoongi rolls up his sleeves, while Lee struggles against the ropes tied around his body and wrists, stressed groans turning into desperate whimpers, almost sobs. “There’s no use struggling, Lee. Taehyung and Jeongguk tie ridiculous fucking knots. You won’t be getting out of those alive unless we cut you free.”

“Which we won’t do,” Taehyung says, grinning; Jeongguk laughs.

“Now. Jeongguk has already asked nicely—”

“Nicely,” Taehyung repeats, sniggering.

“But I won’t. So, again: who is your supplier? Surely Kang is not imbecilic enough to forget that there is only room for one clan to coordinate all the drug operations in Korea. I think we’ve got a pretty firm grasp on that. Wouldn’t you agree, kids?”

“Absolutely, boss,” Jeongguk replies, nodding firmly.

“Ditto,” Taehyung adds.

“I think it’s pretty disrespectful for the Silver Serpent Clan to think they can bring in a full shipment of cocaine without checking with us if that’s okay. And now, look. You’re here having to take the brunt of all the hate.” He twists off the rings that decorate his fingers. “Hold these for me, will you, Jeongguk? _____’ll kill me if I get blood on them.”

“You got it, boss,” Jeongguk says, holding out his palm.

“Funny that a woman has so much hold on you, Min,” Lee mutters, chuckling lowly.

Yoongi stills, staring Lee in the eye.

“And what is that supposed to mean?” Yoongi asks.

“You paint yourself as almost godlike. Yet you worry about some blood on a couple of measly rings, and all for a girl? I don’t think you should be so quick to call the brethren pussies when you’re not much diff–”

Yoongi fist swings before Lee can finish, knuckles connecting with his jaw. 

“You should be careful what you say,” Jeongguk says, laughing. “The more shit that spills out of your mouth, the less likely you’re going to make it out alive from this.”

“Fuck!” Lee cries out, another mouthful of blood spat out onto the cold cement. “You son of a fucking b–”

Yoongi swings once, twice, three times more in quick succession, watching with a smirk as Lee’s head lolls forward, chin tucked against his chest as he pants.

“I’d answer the boss’ question quickly if I were you,” Taehyung teases, giggling. “Otherwise, you’re gonna die, and we’re gonna go grab another one of your “brothers” and beat the livin’ shit out of him too until we get an answer.”

“Listen, you idiots,” Lee says, panting. “I-I don’t have an answer.”

“Wrong,” Yoongi declares. His fists swing once, twice more, hitting his jaw and cheek. A trickle of blood spills from Lee’s lips to stain his white dress shirt red. “Give me an answer, or Jaehee and Junho get one of daddy’s fingers on a necklace each.”

“They’ll look fabulous, I’m sure,” Jeongguk cackles. “All the other kids’ll run home and tell mommy and daddy all about their classmate that came to school with a thumb hanging from their necks.”

“T-that’s sick!” Lee cries.

“No,” Yoongi says. “What’s sick is–”

The sound of a ringtone cuts through the air and interrupts Yoongi. Sitting up, Taehyung pats down Yoongi’s suit jacket, feeling the vibrating phone against knee. He pulls it out, looking down at the caller.

“_____, boss man,” he announces.

“Speaker. My hands are dirty.” The ringing stops, Taehyung tapping at the screen. “Hello?”

“Hi, baby,” you say. “Busy?”

“Eh. I got time for you. Why? Bored?”

“Commercial break. Whatcha doin’?”

“Just an interrogation with Taehyung and Jeongguk. Nothing major.”

“You should really be here, _____,” Jeongguk says, grinning. “Boss man’s really swingin’ his fists hard tonight.”

“Ah, fuck. I’m missing out on that?” you ask. “I’m gonna shoot all of you in the kneecaps next time I see you. I can’t believe none of you called me over to watch.”

“But I thought you needed to find out if Sohee ends up remembering Minsung after all,” Yoongi says, chuckling.

“The drama can wait. Who’re you interrogating anyways?”

“Lee.”

“Wait. Silver Serpent Lee?”

“Mhm.”

“…can he hear me right now?”

“Loud and clear, baby.”

“Listen, motherfucker. You ruined my favourite pair of jeans last time we met. I ripped a hole in them trying to break your fucking arm, and now I can’t wear them anymore. You fucking owe me,” you say, huffing. “Baby, you better throw in an extra punch or six for me.”

“Noted.”

“Also, on your way home, can you pick up some ice cream for me?”

“Mint chocolate chip?”

“Eww,” Taehyung says, wincing.

“Shut up, you boysenberry-lovin’ bitch,” you laugh. “Yes, please.”

“You got it. I’ll be home soon,” Yoongi says.

“Thanks, baby. Have fun.”

“Oh, you know I will.”

“Bye, _____,” Taehyung and Jeongguk call out.

“Bye, guys!” you reply.

Taehyung ends the call, and the room falls quiet again for a moment with only the sound of Yoongi’s phone going back in his suit jacket pocket.

“Where was I?” Yoongi says. “Ah, yes. What’s sick is how Hyunwoo thinks he can just mosey around Korea without a care for the rest of society, shifting the societal dynamics, all for his own personal gain. Don’t you think that’s sick? Hyunwoo’s blatant disrespect for the existing balance of the world is very disappointing. I don’t know how you can stay loyal to him.”

“Kang Hyunwoo is more of a man than you will ever be, and I can’t wait until the Silver Serpent Clan overrules the Bulletproof Brotherhood,” Lee says.

The room is unnervingly still, Taehyung and Jeongguk exchanging wary glances, nervous about the way Yoongi doesn’t move for what feels like hours.

“I see,” Yoongi eventually says, nonchalant; Taehyung flinches, and Jeongguk shivers at the comment. “Well. Third time’s the charm, so I’ll ask one more time then: who is your supplier?”

Lee meets Yoongi’s gaze – or at least, as best as he can with one black and swollen eye.

“Fuck… you,” he spits.

“Hmm.” Yoongi smiles, and Taehyung exhales loudly, shaking his head as Jeongguk sighs. “Alright. You’ll be happy to know that I’m not gonna kill you.” He watches Lee’s eyebrow twitch with the beginnings of confusion. “But what Jeongguk and Taehyung do to you… well. I can’t give you a guarantee regarding that.” Taehyung and Jeongguk turn to look at each other, grinning; Lee’s expression falls. “Before I leave though, I did say I was going to throw a few extra punches for _____, and I am a man of my word; but – again – I’m not gonna kill you, so you don’t have to worry about that. It’s been nice getting to know you, Lee. Taehyung?”

“Yeah, boss?” Taehyung says, already preparing a towel to wipe Yoongi’s hands with.

“Be sure to give my condolences to Minha, Jaehee, and Junho, will you?”

“I’ll ask Seokjin hyung to prepare a nice gift basket when we’re done, boss. No worries.”

“Excellent.”

Yoongi splays out his fingers before curling them back into a tight fist. He watches with a smile as Lee starts to struggle against the ropes again, pleas spilling from his lips, the legs of his chair rocking against the cement floor.

“Give my regards to ol’ Lucifer when you see him, Lee,” Yoongi says, before rearing back to swing his arm.

                                                       〰️

“Would you like us to take him to the Han River afterwards, boss?” Taehyung asks, holding out Yoongi’s suit jacket as the elder tosses the bloodied towel to one corner of the room.

“Hmm, I think the slaughterhouse is more fitting,” Yoongi says, sliding his arms into his jacket. “The one just on the border of the Mapo district.”

“Ooh, I like that idea,” Jeongguk says, grinning as he picks up a thick and heavy chain. He glances over at Lee, unconscious, but not dead, head lolling to the side, face bloody and bruised. “I like it a lot, boss.”

“Mmm, I thought you would. Now, if you both will excuse me, I have some grocery shopping to do.”

“I maintain the idea that mint chocolate chip is disgusting,” Taehyung says. “But enjoy, boss. You have a good night.”

“And you as well,” Yoongi says, chuckling. “I trust you both will do an exceptional job as always.”

“You can count on us, boss,” Jeongguk says, saluting Yoongi. “God fucking damn it. I should’ve brought my lucky bat.”

                                                      〰️

“We’re here, boss,” Jimin announces, pulling up the hand brake.

“Thank you, Jimin.” Yoongi picks up his suit jacket and the plastic grocery bag, reaching for the door. “Remind me again why it’s you that drove me home tonight.” Jimin huffs, slouching in his seat a little.

“I lost a bet with Jooheon.”

Yoongi chuckles, shaking his head.

“Child’s play. You have a good night.”

“See you tomorrow, boss.”

Yoongi steps out of the car, sending a little wave goodbye over his shoulder as Jimin drives off. He walks into the apartment complex, nodding at the doormen and guards as he passes them on the way to the elevator, unbuttoning the top buttons of his shirt. 

He hums quietly as he walks into the apartment, shoes clicking against the marble floor as he makes his way into the living area where you’re sitting on the large sofa, legs outstretched, dressed in nothing but a large shirt – presumably his – and underwear.

“Honey, I’m home,” he calls out, singsongy.

You tear your eyes away from the television to look in his direction, grinning and standing to walk over to him.

“Hi, honey,” you say, playing along. “How was work?”

“Mmm, work was good. Everything’s running smoothly.”

“That’s good to hear. Did you buy the ice cream too?” Yoongi holds up the plastic bag in his hand wordlessly. “Mmm. You’re the best.”

You take the bag from him as he throws his suit jacket carelessly onto the sofa, reaching in to pull out the tub of ice cream, ready to run to the kitchen to grab a spoon and dig in. Yoongi seems to have other plans though, reaching up to hold your chin between his thumb and fingers, tilting your head back to get you to look at him. You furrow your eyebrows, ready to question him, but he cuts you off, leaning forward to press his lips to yours, tongue already swiping across your top lip.

When he pulls away, you laugh, and say, “at least let me put the ice cream in the freezer, Yoongi.”

“Fine. But hurry up,” he says, taking a step back to let you walk to the kitchen. “I’ve been wanting to eat your ass out since I got in the car.”

“Should I be concerned that you always get horny after killing someone?” you ask, swaying your hips just a little bit more as you walk off, knowing Yoongi won’t take his eyes off of you.

“I didn’t kill him, baby.”

“You didn’t?” You carelessly throw the ice cream in the freezer, kicking the door shut. “That’s a shame.”

“Jeongguk and Taehyung did.”

“Ah.” You walk back over to him, his hands already reaching out to grab your hips and pull you close. “You didn’t get blood on your rings, did you? I swear to God, if you di--”

Yoongi cuts you off with another kiss, one hand leaving your waist to hold the back of your head, fingers tangled in your hair.

“I wouldn’t do that to you, baby,” he says lowly, panting softly against your lips. “Come, on the other hand... I can’t guarantee that the rings’ll stay completely clean when come’s involved. Especially if it’s yours.”

You hum and tilt your head back when Yoongi leans down to mouth at your neck, fingertips pressed to your scalp, your hands coming up to undo the rest of the buttons of his shirt.

“I guess I can make an exception for that.”

“Bend over,” he says. “I want that beautiful fuckin’ ass on my mouth right now.”

You roll your eyes, but grin anyway, stepping back to stand on the sofa and fall to your knees. “Yes, sir.”

You turn so your back faces him, and you miss the way Yoongi looks at you with hooded eyes, dark and hungry as he steps over to run a hand down your back to grab one of your ass cheeks, fingers dimpling your flesh, rings cold against warm skin. You exhale softly, back arching instinctively to push your hips out closer to him, and Yoongi hums with appreciation.

He hooks his fingers around the garter of your panties, tugging them down to pool at your knees, pushing up the hem of your shirt to bunch up at your waist. You lean on the back of the sofa, shifting your knees apart as you turn to look at Yoongi over your shoulder, biting your lip at the way he looks down at your body and runs his hands across your skin, leaving goosebumps in their wake.

He grabs your ass again, squeezing tightly with a restrained groan at the way your flesh complies but resists simultaneously. He draws one hand back, only to bring it back down to give your ass a light smack, and you moan softly, turned on by the sound alone.

“God, fucking look at you,” he says quietly, dropping to his knees behind you, shuffling forward until he can lean in to nip lightly at the back of your thighs. You arch your back more, leaning back until his nose bumps against your ass cheek. “Christ, you’re so fucking perfect, baby. Look at this fucking ass.”

“All yours, baby,” you say, grinning.

“Fuck. This is all mine, yeah. All fucking mine.”

You watch him lick his lips before he leans forward, dragging his tongue up from your slit to your asshole, making you gasp and moan loudly.

“Oh, fuck,” you say, watching as he spreads your ass cheeks apart with his thumbs, leaning forward against to tongue at your asshole, lewd, wet sounds quickly drowning out the sound from the television. “Fuck, baby. Just like that.”

Yoongi groans against you, flattening out his tongue to swipe it over and over against you, spit dripping down to his chin as his hands squeeze your ass tightly. He shuffles forward on his knees, getting impossibly close to you, shutting his eyes as he continues to lick and suck with fervour.

“Yoongi,” you whine, throwing your head back and shutting your eyes tightly, nails digging into the leather of the sofa as you resist the urge to rock back into him. He holds his tongue out, shaking his head from side to side, and your knees start to shake, skin so, so sensitive. “Yoongi, please.”

“Please what?” he asks, teeth digging into the flesh of your ass. “What do you want?”

“I want... w-- fuck me.”

“Want my cock?”

“Need it, baby.”

“God, you are sin,” he groans, pushing himself up to stand, pulling his shirt off and reaching down to unbuckle his belt and unzip his slacks. “You want it like this?”

“Any way you want, baby,” you say, looking at him over your shoulder again, watching as he undresses, pushing his slacks and briefs off in one swift motion.

“I want it like this. Take your shirt off.”

You sit up and pull your shirt up over your head and throw it off to the side; he feels a tinge of pride strike his core at the black ink that covers your back, the gang’s crest displayed proudly in front of him, his fingers running over the intricate lines of the lioness’ head and the chain of bullets around its neck with awe, as if it were the first time he was seeing it.

“Baby?” His snaps out of his little trance, blinking as he meets your eyes. “You good?”

“Yeah. Yeah, no, I was just...” He chuckles softly, reaching out to cup your jaw, pulling you close so that your back is pressed up to his chest. “I love you.”

You grin and reach up to grab his neck, pressing a kiss to his spit-slick lips.

“I love you too, baby,” you say, nipping at his bottom lip. “Fuck me?”

He presses his forehead to yours, nodding. “Of course, angel.”

Yoongi wraps one arm around your waist, the other gripping his leaking cock to slide it between your ass cheeks teasingly, grinning when your eyes flutter shut as you sigh, hips jerking back suddenly. You gasp when you feel the tip of his cock rub against your clit; you throw your head back against his shoulder, trying your best to return the little pecks he leaves at the corner of your mouth as he slowly pushes himself into you, both of you moaning at the sensation.

When he bottoms out, Yoongi stills and lets you adjust, mouthing sloppily at your lips and jaw, overcome by the feeling of you warm and tight around his cock. He reaches up to play with your nipple, tugging gently at the metal bar pierced through it, relishing in the way you keen against him.

“Baby.” He hums against your cheek. “Move.”

Yoongi chuckles, drawing his hips back to then slowly push forward, thrusting his cock back into you. Your mouth opens in a wide O, too overwhelmed by the feeling of him filling you up to even make a sound; but he understands -- of course he does; he always does -- and he presses another kiss to the spot just below your ear before he drives his cock into you again.

It isn’t long before he builds up a steady rhythm with his hips, the obscene sounds from both your bodies colliding easily making you forget you had been watching anything else earlier. You reach up to tug at the blonde locks of hair on Yoongi’s head, pushing your hips back to meet his halfway, spurred on by the way he moans lowly in your ear every time you clench your walls around him.

“Perfect, baby. So fucking perfect. I can’t believe you’re all mine,” he whispers, praises spilling from his lips like a prayer. You let out a whine, feeling the tension build in your core, the faint traces of a climax slowly surfacing.

“I love you,” you moan. “I love you, baby. Don’t stop.” You feel him shake his head next to you in reply. “Oh, I-I’m gonna come, baby.”

You feel his thumb nudge your bottom lip, and you straight away engulf his thumb in your mouth, sucking fervently until it’s dripping with spit. You barely register the quiet, good girl, that he whispers in your ear before he pulls his hand away to reach in between your bodies, and before you know it, you can feel his spit-slick thumb rubbing circles around your asshole.

You moan so loud that, if the both of you even had neighbours, someone would definitely be banging against the wall.

Yoongi bites at your earlobe while he slowly pushes his thumb into you, hips unrelenting as he continues to thrust his cock into you, making the pressure in your stomach grow with no end in sight.

“Yoongi,” you whine, tugging on his hair.

“Come for me, angel. Let me see you come all over my cock,” he says. “Play with yourself for me, beautiful.”

Your hand moves without you even realising, fingers rubbing circles on your clit, and you’re panting hard, moans and whines filling the air around you.

“B-baby.”

“Come for me.”

You arch your back, still in Yoongi’s embrace as you come with his name on your lips. With a moan, Yoongi stops thrusting his hips, knees twitching as he comes inside of you not long after, filling you up to the brim.

                                                      〰️

Yoongi holds you close to his chest, nose buried in your hair as you both try to catch your breath. He manoeuvres you both to lie across the sofa, too exhausted to worry about the way your bodies seem to stick to the leather of the sofa.

He stretches his arm out to act as a makeshift pillow under your head, pressing a soft kiss to your temple as you pull his arm over you, shifting back until there’s no space between you both.

“So,” Yoongi says. “Did Sohee remember Minsung in the end?”

You groan quietly, reaching down to entwine your fingers with his, fiddling with his rings absentmindedly as you glare at the television.

“It ended with a fucking cliffhanger, baby,” you reply, frowning. “If I’d have known it was gonna end like that, I would’ve come over to kill Lee myself, that sone of a bitch.”

Yoongi chuckles quietly, pressing another kiss to your cheek.

“I love you.”

#suga #min yoongi #bts #bangtan #mafia!au #this song..... a classic #*chef hand kisses* #r #kawaii cheshire neko chan #ALSO very salty that tumblr decided to get rid of the line breaks function IN THE MIDDLE OF ME WRITING THIS #THE EFF TUMBLR

[linaofthemyscira]

White House Down (Part 6)

Pairing: Secret Service!Jason x Fem!Secret Service!Reader

Words: 1951

Prompt: Duke Thomas, the President of the United States of America is a huge target for the world. However, Jason Todd, one of the best Secret Service agents in the White House, doesn’t let President Thomas out of his sight. Then you come along, and let’s just say you’re a bit of a distraction. While Jason wrestles with your presence, the White House is attacked which throws his whole world off. Now Jason must work with you to save one of the most important people in the world and the fate of the United States.

Warnings: foul language, smol sexual innuendos

A/N: ENJOY PART 6! More characters have been mentioned and introduced!

(This is a polite reminder that if you are on one of my tag lists and you change your URL PLEASE let me know because ya girl doesn’t have the time or patience to track your new URL down so please TELL ME! Also, tags for this story are still open, SO SEND AN ASK IF YOU WANNA BE ON THIS STORY’S TAGLIST THANK YOU AND GOOD NIGHT!)

☆ ☆ ☆

The three of you exited into the hall, guns up and ready to fire, but you came into contact with no one.

“Okay, follow me,” you beckoned the two men to follow you as you started making your way up the stairs. Out of nowhere, you came face to face with one of Talia’s men, and on instinct, you headbutted him, then punched his throat. The goon stepped back to catch his breath but you acted fast and grabbed his jacket to fling him down the stairs. Jason and Duke stepped back and watched as you ruthlessly took down the goon by yourself.

“Woah…” Duke breathed out.

You picked up the man and in one swift move, you snapped his neck like you did to his friend not too long ago. Suddenly, you felt yourself being pinned against the wall, a hand around your neck. You opened your eyes and saw a huge man choking you against that wall (and not in a sexy way).

“Talia will be happy I caught something for her don’t you think?” he asked you.

“Fuck….you,” you gasped out. Before you could kick him back, the barrel of a gun was pressed against the second goon’s temple and a bullet was sent through his head. You fell to the floor as his hand loosened around your neck.

“Are you okay?” you heard Jason’s voice above you. You looked up as you caught your breath and saw him looking down at you concernedly. Jason sank down to your level and placed a hand on your back.

“I’m fine,” you rasped. With Jason’s help, you got up and turned to him and Duke.

“The stairs are no longer an option,” you said lowly. “We’ll take the elevator. You two grab those guards and let’s go.”

Duke and Jason hesitated before you half-yelled at them to move their asses. The three of you piled into the elevator and waited to hit a button.

“Okay, put the uniforms on,” you ordered them.

“Y/N, take a rest, you almost got choked to death,” Duke suggested.

“No disrespect sir, but we have no time for rests. People’s lives are at stake, and so far, we’re their only hope,” you told them. Jason agreed, but he saw you struggling with his own eyes. Had he not stepped up and killed the man, you would be dead and as much as he hated to admit it, they would be screwed without you.

“She’s right Duke,” Jason told him. He turned to you and crossed his arms.

“What are you waiting for?” you asked.

“Some privacy,” Jason said. You raised your eyebrow and rolled your eyes, but caught a hatch in the top of the elevator car.

“Lift me up so I can open that hatch and then hoist me into the shaft,” you commanded Jason. He opened his mouth, but you cut him off. “If you’re going to say a dick joke, please don’t.”

Jason scowled as he picked you up, not liking how you were preventing him from trying to lighten up the situation. He gave Duke a look, but he shrugged back at Jason. Finally, you got the hatch door open and you crawled on top of the car. You closed the hatch, which was in the form of a grate, so you could still see inside the elevator car.

“Hurry up and change and go to the second floor,” you told the two men. They changed into the uniforms, dumped the bodies outside and went to the second floor. As the elevator car moved up, your heart raced nervously. You had no idea what was going to happen, all you knew was that you couldn’t afford to let Jason nor Duke die in this battle.

The car came to a screeching halt and you breathed out, watching as the doors to the second floor opened and in poured about 6 more guards. Jason and Duke tried to get out, but they stopped them.

“Where do you think you’re going?” a guard asked.

“I have to use the bathroom,” Duke said while keeping his head down.

“Look at me while you’re speaking!” the man yelled.

“We both have to use the...the bathroom,” Jason internally groaned at how lame that excuse was.

“Just hold it, we need to meet with Talia,” the same guard pushed Jason back to his spot, which didn’t go over well with him.

“Alright, I’ve had enough of this bullshit,” he pulled his guns and shot the guard in the head with no hesitation. Blood spattered on Duke, who stood stunned. In no less than 3 seconds, the other guards acted and ambushed Jason and Duke.

“Idiot,” you muttered before opening the hatch and landing on a guard. His head hit the elevator floor and he was out.

You quickly aided Jason and Duke in taking down the guards and in a matter of minutes, the only people standing were the three of you.

“Now that that’s over with…” you trailed off as you pressed the “open door” button. You walked out of the elevator, Duke, and Jason close on your heels.

“Y/N…” Jason grabbed your arm and spun you to face him.

“What?” you asked as he looked into your eyes.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” he asked slowly.

“I’m fine,” you told him. “I promise.”

Jason let go of you and you continued on to the President’s room. When the three of you arrived, you shut the door and had Jason help you move the dresser to block the doors.

“I found it,” Duke said as he held up the burner phone.

“Pass it here,” Jason held out his hands. Duke tossed the burner to Jason who caught it and immediately dialed the number for the Pentagon Command Center.

“Hello?” a voice answered.

“Babs?” Jason asked.

“Oh my god, you’re okay. We had complete radio silence from the White House for about 2 and a half hours. What’s going on?” Barbara asked. Before Jason had the chance to respond, you took the phone from him.

“The White House has undergone a hostile takeover from a terrorist group--quite possibly the same one who bombed the Capitol building. Hostages have been gathered, and the remaining agents are in a safe room. The President is alive and standing a few feet away from me,” you explained to Babs.

“...Okay...who is this?” she asked, and then it was Jason’s turn to rip the phone out of your hands.

“I’m sorry that was one of my subordinates. Everything she said was correct though,” Jason said.

“Okay, are you going to try to free the hostages? Or should I send in the national guard?” Barbara asked. Jason glanced at you, meeting your impatient glare.

“Hold off on the national guard for now. We’ll take care of the hostages,” Jason replied. You raised an eyebrow in reaction.

“So, do you know who is orchestrating this whole thing?” Barbara asked.

“A woman named Talia. I think it’s Talia Al Ghul, Bruce’s old flame.” Jason told her.

“Talia? Oh god.” Barbara sighed, “I’m gathering her files now.”

“Thanks. We need as much info as we can get,” Jason rubbed the back of his neck.

While you waited for Jason to get off the phone, you turned to find Duke in his closet, searching for something.

“Mr. President, is there anything I can help you with?” you asked him.

“Nope, I’m just changing my shoes, that’s all,” he said from inside his closet. You furrowed your eyebrows in confusion and waited to see what new shoes he had on. When Duke re-entered the bedroom, your eyes averted to his shoes and you sighed.

“Like my Jordans?” he smiled. “Eh? Eh? Come on, [Y/N], tell me you like them.”

“I guess they’re pretty cool,” you smiled back at him.

“Pretty cool? [Y/N], these shoes are amazing. It’s like walking on clouds,” he slung his arm around your shoulder.

“Well, I’m not into men’s shoes so I wouldn’t know,” you smirked at him.

“Good point,” Duke said.

“Hey, you two,” Jason said from behind you. You and Duke turned to face Jason, who had hung up with Barbara.

“Talia’s guys are gonna be here at any second we have to move,” Jason told you.

“What’s the plan?” you asked.

“Well...things are a little more urgent now.” Jason frowned.

“How so?” you asked.

“Damian is one of the hostages,” Jason said grimly.

“Who’s Damian?” you asked confusedly.

“Shit,” Duke responded, “Has he killed anyone yet?”

“No, but he probably will start if we don’t get our asses down there and get him,” Jason said.

“Who is Damian?!” you asked again.

“Bruce’s son!” Jason replied.

“Who is Bruce!” you asked.

“I don’t have time for this. Listen, the plan is simple. We get down there, kill those bastards and get the hostages out of here. No one is coming to help us,” Jason explained.

“That’s because you told ‘Babs’ not to send anyone,” You said.

“I figured you wanted to save them yourself! Sue me!” Jason scoffed.

“We can use all the help we can--” you began, but Jason put your hand over your mouth.

“Someone is coming. Everyone into the closet,” he whispered. Duke crawled into the closet first, then you and Jason followed. Jason shut the door to the walk-in closet and waited. “It’s hot in here,” you whispered.

“Shhh!” Jason shushed you.

“Fuck you too,” you whispered again.

Outside, you could hear the voices of the mercenaries who served as Talia’s men.

“I thought I heard talking in here.”

“You’re just crazy, Louie. C’mon, let’s get outta here and back to Talia.”

“Wait can’t we just check in case they are in here?”

“Fine! Go check!”

“Fuck,” Jason whispered.

“Relax, we have guns,” you whispered back.

“So do they,” Jason whispered again.

The three of you waited in silence for one of the men to open the closet door, but after a few minutes and nothing happened, you all relaxed.

Your relaxation was short-lived, though, because just as you sighed in relief, the closet door swung open and one of the mercenaries came in. Jason swiftly pulled out his gun and shot the guard before he had a chance to shoot any of you.

“Louie!” his partner came in, gun ready.

You, Jason and Duke all stood up, Duke behind the two of you. You and Jason both had your guns up, prepared to shoot.

“Put the gun down, man. Let’s be civil here,” Jason said lowly.

“We’re invading the fucking White House, there’s nothing civil about this. Not to mention how civil it was when you fucking KILLED LOUIE!” the guard yelled. He had a point, even though you hated to admit it.

“Talia is using you, she doesn’t care what happens to you. To her, you’re just a pawn. You’re expendable, and she will not hesitate to kill you off as soon as her whole scheme is over, should she succeed.” Jason told him, trying to get into his head. The guard lowered his gun and looked at the ground in confusion.

You and Jason also lowered your guns, believing you had subdued the mercenary. However, the guard suddenly raised his gun at the three of you with a devilish smile.

“Luckily, I don’t care,” he growled and shot his gun at the group. Jason fired at him no more than 2 seconds after and the unnamed guard fell to the floor, dead.

“Haha, missed me, bitch,” he cocked his gun.

“Jason...it didn’t miss her.” Duke’s voice came from behind him. Jason quickly turned and found you on the floor holding your thigh in pain.

“Shit!”

☆ ☆ ☆

TAGGING:

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#Jason Todd #jason todd x reader #jason todd series #batfamily #batfam x reader #White House Down #Secret Service AU

[darkling-er]

Hope’s Savior ( John Seed x OC ) | Part 6

Summary: Trinity-Hope Johnson finds herself in the middle of a holy war, leading the Resistance, while having a complicated relationship with one of the cult’s herald. And she thought her first case would be easy. Oh how wrong she was!

Pairings: John Seed/Fem!Deputy, John Seed/OC, Earl Whitehorse & OC ( uncle&niece ), Joseph Seed/Fem!Deputy ( kind of ), might add more later

Warnings: mild language, violence, eventually smut, use of drugs ( bliss and other, thanks to Sharky ), fluff ( does that even need a warning? ), manipulation, angst, mention of mental illness ( insomnia, depression ), mention of child abuse ( from John’s side ), torture, I think that’s it? I swear it’s not so bad!

Word Counter: 2282

Notes: I’m making up for all the chapters without John, so yay! John interactions!

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 |  Part 11 | Part 12 | Part 13 | Part 14 | Part 15 | Part 16 | Part 17 | Part 18 | Part 19 | MASTERPOST for the others

Hope sits up on the roof and looks down at her radio. Okay, this guy needs to chill down, we literally just met today. She considers not answering. That would be the wise choice, right? But she has a tendency to acting before thinking and facing the consequences later. John’s voice still in her head, the way he says ‘Dep-you-tee’ sending chills down her spine. And he thinks they need to talk, let’s talk then.

She picks up the radio and pushes down the button.

“I don’t think we need to do anything, Johnny boy. After all, you did try to drown me tonight.”

She’s poking the snake and she knows that. When he started the call he didn’t sound too happy. Well, why would he be? Big bro Joseph wanted him to get her to atone and now she was free, out of his grasp.

There’s a sharp inhale on the other end of the radio, before John talks. His voice is sweet and melodic like in the commercial and his sermons at the outposts. But Hope can feel the anger hiding behind the lines.

“Let’s not dwell on the past, shall we, Deputy?”

He says it again. ‘Dep-you-tee’ and it’s getting on her nerves. He must do it on purpose, making the word sound longer then it supposed to be. Her reaction is immediate and it’s filled with venom, with a fake laugh at the end:

“It happened, literally an hour ago... What, you miss me already? Are you angry that I didn’t join you in your weird torture dungeon?”

What is she even doing right now? Why is she talking to her? He’s an annoying ass, that’s for sure. And even if she’s trying to pull on his strings he always fights back somehow, making her angry.

John chuckles at the other end of the call:

“Oh, and here I thought you are the one missing me. You were the one holding my arm and not letting go, if I remember it correctly...” Hope’s glad the man can’t see her right now, because she can feel her cheeks are getting flushed. “Although I can’t lie, I was disappointed that my men couldn’t bring you to my bunker.”

She scoffs and interrupts him, before he could continue.

“First of all: I was drugged, remember? Thanks to your buddies with the bliss bullets. So fuck you! And second: You have to up your game, because your men are weak as hell. I even put down one of your Chosen, remember? And you what? Send me in a truck with two peggies? Come on, I am disappointed, Johnny boy. You’re not even trying.”

“The Bliss only makes you reveal your true nature, Deputy... It doesn’t make you do things, that you don’t want to do...” He speaks through his teeth next. “And yes... I do remember, but be careful. Our actions reveal our sins...”

Hope rolls her eyes.

“You know what? This was a mistake, next time you want to talk to somebody, just call a therapist. I’m sure you need all the help you can get.”

John laughs out loud at that and her stomach sends a weird sensation through her body.

“Oh, but Deputy... Here I thought we were starting to bond. It’s you that needs my help. I can set you free from your sins, but you keep insulting me... And you didn’t even ask about our dear Deputy Hudson, yet.”

Hope clenches the radio in her hands, so hard she fears she might break it. She speaks through her teeth. She knows John mentioned Hudson so he could get a reaction from her. If it’s a reaction what he wants, a reaction is what he’ll get.

“You listen to me, you motherfucker! If you even think about hurting her, I’ll make your life a living hell.”

“Is that a threat or a promise?” He asks, clearly satisfied with her reaction, but he doesn’t wait for an answer. “Sleep tight, my dear.”

And with that the call is cut off. She takes some deep breaths and swears out loud. Fuck the Seeds... Why did she even answer? And how come he knew her personal channel? He didn’t use the open one like before. Fuck...

She hears the door to the cabin open and Adam’s voice can be heard:

“Hey, Dep, you okay?”

She speaks low but makes sure the man can hear her answer:

“Yeah, I’m fine.” But in reality, she is far from fine.

All she can see is ash and fire. The sky has turned into a dark red, the clouds are black and instead of snow, ash falls from the sky. Hope can hear screams from everywhere. She’s panicking as she can’t move her leg. She’s in a car. Who’s car? She has no idea, but it seems like she is the driver.

There’s someone outside and the song that is echoing in the air, mixed with the screams she feels like this had happened before. She sees a silhouette walking by the car, but she can’t quite make it out, who it is. Though the next words she hears can’t be anyone else’s than Joseph Seed:

“Was blind, but now I see”

Hope weaks up, sweat covering her body. She is shaking with fear as she can still smell the smoke and ash in the air. She takes a few deep breaths and looks around. It’s calm and quiet, a clock ticking next to her head. She’s still in Adam’s cabin and the sky isn’t red. She can’t hear any screams and most of all Joseph Seed is not there.

She looks at Adam’s bed, he’s still asleep. Maybe it’s for the better, she couldn’t talk about her nightmare if asked. She doesn’t want to talk about it. She gets up from the bed and changes into a set of new clothes Adam got her from Fall’s End.

“You kidding me?” She whispers as she looks down at herself. A ‘trouble maker’ crop top and a jeans with her thigh holsters. One for her pistol and one for the throwing knives. I guess my whole stomach is free, ready to take bullets.

“Asshole, get up” She throws her used clothes on the sleeping Adam. He groans at her but gets up eventually.

Hope considers telling her conversation with John to Adam, but changes her mind as they drive to the Pig Farm.

“Deputy, it’s Pastore Jerome. If you’re getting close to Woodson’s Pig Farm be careful. Cultists will kil hostages if they lay eyes on you. You gotta attack quietly. It’s their best chance of survival.”

“That’s my speciality.” Hope replies. “Feed Boomer, while I’m away, will you?”

After fighting through the peggies, killing most of them with a bullet through the head with a sniper before getting spotted. They free all of the hostages and Hope is pretty satisfied with the work she had done. 

“You’ve done it again, Deputy. Actions like these are sparking the Resistance. Those people are stronger today because of you. Just like the story of David and Goliath. You’re inspiring real courage. Keep it up.”

She smiles to herself and almost gets a heart attack as her radio crackles again.

“Pastor Jerome is selfish and misguided.” She hears the annoyed voice of John Seed. “And if he were a true man of God, his people wouldn’t have left him in the first place.”

Hope laughs out loud, gaining a weird look from Adam. This guy sounds like he’s a kid. Pouting and calling names, like the Pastor took away his favourite toy.

“You, Deputy, will still confess your sins. Because this is the will of the Father.”

He actually sounds like he got a scolding from a teacher and now he has to do his homework. She can’t stop herself as she pushes down the talk button.

“Oh, Johnny boy, what happened? Did you get a scolding from Broseph?” She mocks him with a smirk that he can’t see. “How do you instantly know what I’m up to, anyway? You’re following me, hiding behind a bush, waiting for me to do something that’ll piss you off?”

There’s a moment of silence and she expects that the younger Seed won’t answer, when he replies:

“I have cameras everywhere, Deputy...”

Hope looks around the place but sees nothing. She holds up her middle fingers and takes a 360 turn.

“Kinky...” She laughs. “You see what I’m doing now?”

The answer doesn’t exactly pleases her, because John’s cold voice turns into his teasing one. He’s totally smirking, I can tell.

“Why, yes! Although I’m warning you again. Keep up this attitude and Deputy Hudson will suffer for your actions.” She lowers her arm, all of her playful mood gone. “She even told me things about you, Deputy... Interesting things, really.”

She scoffs and now she’s the one annoyed by this exchange:

“Oh, really?”

The man on the other end chuckles:

“Of course I’m not much for gossip. I would rather have you here, with me. Then you can tell me all about yourself.”

She scoffs and starts walking to Adam’s truck, the gun for hire totally shocked that the deputy is talking to that sadistic asshole.

“How about you find a new hobbie, John?” She uses his real name, not in the mood for teasing nicknames. “Or are you that pathetic that you have to kidnap and torture people talk to you?”

She shuts the car door behind her with a little bit too much force than she wanted to. Another chuckles and a ‘tsk’ sound comes from him:

“And here you are. Talking, to me. When nobody is making you.”

She rolls her eyes and gestures to Adam to start the truck.

“Well yeah, I’m an idiot. And I’m gonna hang up now. So screw you!”

She shuts off her radio entirely, only now realizing she was talking to the open station. Which means everybody who was listening to this channel heard that exchange. Fucking great.

“Why did you answer to him? And why in the hell did you flirt with him?” Adam asks as they drive to the Henbane River. Maybe some time away from the Valley is a good idea.

“I wasn’t flirting.” She says annoyed by even the idea.

“Ugh? Duh? You were. And HE was too. You two were totally flirting. In a sick way, but totally a boner way.”

She slaps his arm and looks offended:

“No, we didn’t. This is called enemy exchange.”

He scoffs with a laugh:

“You mean enemies-to-lovers exchange.”

She hits him now, hard on the bicep. He grunts but laughs and she can’t help but laugh too. Jesus, we were kind of flirting, weren’t we?

They step over the bridge to the Henbane the radio crackles and she’s glad it’s not the Seed’s voice that greets her:

“Deputy, you’ve crossed into the Henbane. Don’t trust anything you see and sure shit don’t believe a word that Faith says. Also steer clear of those white flowers. They seem harmless, but they will fuck your shit up... if you don’t believe me, just wait until you come across some of those shamblin’ junkies... Cult calls them ‘Angels’, but they’ll tear through you like shit through a goose.”

“Alright, thanks for the heads up, Dutch.” Hope replies.

Adam turns on the radio as the peggie channel blazes with music:

“Help me Faith, help me Faith, shield me from sorrow from fea...” The music is quickly cut by Adam changing the radio channel.

“Stupid thing, always ends up on that channel.” He murmurs under his breath and Hope chuckles as she leans back in her seat and looks out the window.

“You said the distress call came from the prison?”

She humms and nods:

“Yup, some guy names Virgil made it. Dutch told me to check out that place first before doing anything in Tinkerbell’s region.”

Adam scoffs and smiles at that:

“Tinkerbell? Johnny boy? Broseph? Are you trying to annoy them or make them your pets?”

She hits his arm, but not with force.

“I’m just asking, darlin’.” He says defending himself with a laugh.

“Yeah, sure. Will keep them on a leash too. Only Jacob left, to get a name.”

He shakes his head, disgust in his voice:

“Don’t call that one anything, he’s the worst.”

She laughs and looks at him with a smile in her eyes as well:

“He didn’t do me wrong... Yet... So on my list, he’s on top. My fave Seed at the moment.”

“I thought that was John.” She gives him a disapproving look as they turn on the road, only a couple of meters away from the Hope County Jail. She takes her AR-C into her hands as gunshots can be heard and she spots a couple of peggies outside of the building.

“First time I see someone trying to get inside the prison” She jokes and jumpes out of the car, when it slows down enough and marches on, taking out peggies as she goes.

“Let’s get these thugs, don’t give ‘em an inch!”

Hope almost gets shot by the voice she hears. Is that...? Adam takes out the peggie coming at her, while she’s shocked for a moment. That’s the last of them.

They open the gate and there he is. Hope’s eyes tear up as she runs up to the man:

“Holy shit... Hope?” She hugs him closely and doesn’t want to let go.

“You’re here... you’re here.” She says shakingly. Thank God, he’s here!

Adam comes up behind her, and asks:

“You guys know each other, I guess?”

Earl looks down at her niece, with pride in his eyes:

“She’s my niece.”

A/N: Okay, so no cliffhanger, and more is to come soon, but I wanted to finish and post this chapter! Thanks for reading! *-*

Tags: @onl-you

#hope's savior #trinity-hope johnson #my deputy #john seed x deputy #john seed x female deputy #john seed x oc #fanfiction #far cry 5 fanfiction #fanfic #far cry fanfiction #far cry 5

[bokura-no-ua]

Inktober - Day 5: Long

Pairing: Kirishima Eijirou/Bakugou Katsuki Rating: T (for language) Other tags: Manga spoilers, but only about the living situation

Art by Kumi. Words by Red. Read it on AO3! Please, do not repost anywhere.

Exhaustion

Eijirou was beat. Quite literally. His body ached in way too many places to count, and whatever muscles weren’t sore just screamed from an overall feeling of fatigue that kept his shoulders slouched as he slowly made his way back to the dorms.

Training during third and fourth period had been gruelling. Especially for him, since he had had to act as a literal human shield for the “rescue” team as they walked down a long, narrow hallway. It was supposed to serve as practice to see how they would do in a hostage situation in an enclosed space. Thankfully, the rescuers succeeded in aiding the victims and managed to keep the damage to the building to a minimum.

But it was all because he had sustained most of the attacks from the “villains”; specifically, Bakugou’s explosions. Eijirou offered to be the shield himself since he had proved to be immune to his explosive quirk in the past, and they knew Bakugou would charge head first against the hero team.

What neither he nor his teammates had accounted for, though, was the fact that Sero and Ashido would come and attack them at the same time, trying to bind them and slowing them down, respectively, while Bakugou kept exploding the hallway and windows.

There was so much debris and so many glass shards flying around, at the same time the villains’ very effective attacks were being directed at them, that Eijirou had trouble maintaining his hardening quirk in the correct places of his body to protect himself and his fellow heroes.

All in all, yes, they had cleared the test, but his body was screaming at him for a warm bath. It was enough that he had had to endure the rest of day, wincing every time he moved and trying not to cry out in the middle of class. And on top of all that, as part of the Hero course, they had an extra seventh period to sit through, which meant yet another hour of class!

By the time he made it out of the bath - his legs barely keeping him upright as he dragged his feet across the floor -, Eijirou just wanted to pass out, not even caring about dinner.

But, to his surprise, someone was waiting for him just outside the boy’s baths. Eijirou stopped in his tracks and stared at Bakugou, who had already bathed before him and changed into comfortable clothes, it seemed.

“Oi, Kirishima,” he said with his usual gruffness.

Eijirou waited for him to continue since it looked like he had more to say, but the sound of most of their classmates finally reaching the dorms made Bakugou rethink things.

“Come on,” was all he added before he started moving towards the lift to go up to their rooms, not even turning around once to check if Eijirou was in fact following him.

The scene kind of reminded Eijirou of Eurydice and Orpheus’ myth - minus Orpheus’ concern for his partner, of course.

Eijirou facepalmed as they stepped out of the lift when they reached the fourth floor. He could not believe he had just compared Bakugou to a freaking prophet from Greek mythology. Not to mention he had compared himself to the guy’s dead wife.

He needed to get a grip, preferably by sleeping for the next twelve or so hours after hearing whatever it was that Bakugou wanted to tell him. Or maybe stop hanging around Kaminari once he got started on one of his mythology rants.

Whichever option, it needed to happen now before he face-planted and took a short three-hour nap on the floor.

Bakugou noticed his spaced-out expression and quickly invited him into his room - or rather, he opened the door to his room and didn’t slam it in Eijirou’s face. In Baku-go, that meant you were allowed in, as far as he knew.

Eijirou walked in and closed the door behind himself, the click sounding loud in the otherwise quiet space. It was kind of eerie, actually. Usually, the dorms were very lively at this time of day and, wherever you went, there was always someone talking, laughing or listening to music. Today, apparently, everyone was tired after the many rescue exercises they had to take part in.

A hand waving from side to side in front of his face brought him back, his eyes lidded as he blinked slowly and tried to focus on Bakugou’s grumpy face.

“Sit,” Bakugou said and pointed towards the bed. There he saw that Bakugou had rearranged the pillows against the headboard and had tried to straighten out the covers a little bit.

Despite being slightly confused still, Eijirou did as he was told and sat down on the soft duvet, cross-legged.

“Take off your shirt,” Bakugou told him as he turned around and rummaged in one of his drawers, searching for something. Eijirou raised one of his eyebrows and tried to make a joke.

“Look, Bakugou, if this is some weird scheme to see me naked, you could’ve just-”

“That’s not it!” came the loud reply, and Eijirou couldn’t help but laugh at the panicked expression that painted itself across Bakugou’s face. “And scoot forwards a little,” he added, purposefully avoiding looking at Eijirou’s body.

That’s odd, Eijirou thought, he's seen me without my short on whenever I wear my hero costume. Even today in training.

Again, Eijirou did as he was told, too exhausted to actually question the motives behind his friend’s requests, and was surprised when Bakugou sat behind him.

“Um, Bakugou, what are you-” Eijirou started saying but was quickly interrupted, although the next sentence was spoken in a much smaller voice than before.

“Just... shut up and let me try something, okay?”

Instead of saying anything, Eijirou sighed and just sat there, unmoving, waiting for Bakugou to... do whatever it was that he wanted to do to his bare back. Oh, he shouldn’t have allowed his mind to go there. It was probably not- Bakugou, he wouldn’t-

He was so lost in thought that Eijirou almost yelped when he felt Bakugou’s cold hands come into contact with his shoulders. His hands were slippery, and a sort of fruity smell reached Eijirou’s nose. 

Bakugou... Bakugou was giving Eijirou a freaking back massage.

“My dad used to do this whenever he noticed my shoulders were sore after I came home from school.”

“Because of your hero costume, right? I’ve noticed that the larger blasts send your arm back a lot whenever you pull the grenade pins.”

“Yeah, he used this particular oil cause it’s supposed to sooth and heal aching muscles.”

After that short exchange, they remained silent for a while, Eijirou’s mind racing with questions as to why Bakugou was doing this. He now felt incredibly awake.

“Fucking relax already. Your shoulders are all tense,” Bakugou said and punctuated the statement by lightly hitting the area until Eijirou relaxed his posture.

Bakugou continued his ministrations without saying anything else. And Eijirou had to fight the urge to start moving. He needed to ask.

“Hey, Bakugou, what, ah, brought this on?” Eijirou heard Bakugou’s little intake of breath, followed quickly by a sigh. He took a minute to answer.

“You exerted yourself today,” Bakugou’s voice was almost a whisper, “idiot.”

Eijirou laughed, “What are you talking about? My whole team tried very hard today! You guys were tough to get through.”

“Yeah, sure,” he scoffed. “As always, Four-eyes ran really fast at the very end, carrying grapes-for-hair and Round Face to the designated safe area outside, and before that, I saw you got a lot of help from Monkey Tail. Please, Kirishima, if you hadn’t been there, those two wouldn’t have stood a chance against us.”

“So what? Even if that were true - which is not, by the way, we came up with the plan together -, what does that have to do with me getting a back rub from you?”

Eijirou hadn’t meant for the comment to sound quite as accusatory but he had to defend his teammates!

“Because, shit-for-brains, by acting as their shield and bearing most of the attacks today, you got hurt. Don’t think I didn’t notice how you kept squirming in your chair because you couldn’t get comfortable in class.”

“Still, that doesn’t explain why-”

“And!” Bakugou interrupted him again, his grip on Eijirou’s shoulders becoming a little painful for a second before he realised how much force he was using and let go of him completely. “And... I know you were mostly using your quirk to repel my explosions so I thought I c-could, you know, offer to do something to... help you.”

The end of his sentence was said so quietly, Eijirou thought he had imagined the whole thing in a very vivid dream. But, a few seconds later, when he felt Bakugou’s trembling hands situating themselves on his back as he resumed the massage, Eijirou was sure that this was Bakugou’s weird - and convoluted - way of showing he actually cared and was trying to make it up to him.

“So~,” Eijirou said, a smile tugging at his lips before he could stop it, and glanced back at Bakugou, his own face twisted, as if it had caused him physical pain to admit what he had said. “You just felt guilty, huh?”

“No! What are you-”

“Because!” Eijirou cut him off the same way Bakugou had done several times earlier. “You have nothing to worry about. You know I’m tough! I’m one of the few people who can endure your annoying quirk-”

“Hey! Wait a sec-”

“-but I do appreciate it,” he continued, smiling at Bakugou over his now tension-free shoulder. “So, thank you, Bakugou!”

“Shut up, already! And you’d better not fucking tell a soul about this, okay? Or I’ll never hear the end of it!”

Eijirou closed his eyes and laughed as he finally allowed his body to relax under Bakugou’s expert hands.

“Fine, fine,” he conceded. “Whatever, I won’t say anything to anybody, Explody. Now, tell me. Why do you always have to destroy whatever building we’re practising in? You need to calm down a bit or the teachers are seriously going to put you in house arrest again or something.”

“I said shut up already! I can’t fucking do this if you keep laughing and moving around! Geez, I swear...”

Day 7: Shy (Part 2) Day 12: Shattered (Part 3)

A/N: Baku-go is a little play on words between Bakugou’s last name and the fact that the kanji for language, 語, is pronounced “go” in Japanese (as in “Japanese language”, 日本語, which is read “nihongo”). Apologies for the lameness and expect it to happen again sometime in the near future. Thank you for reading! :D

#Boku no Hero Academia #BnHA #My Hero Academia #KiriBaku #bakushima #Bakugou Katsuki #Kirishima Eijirou #Inktober #Day 5 #our art #our stories #This one's for you Kumi ✨

[bitchezbebonkers]

Watch it Burn Down

A Varchie fic

Chapter One: Here

Chapter Two:

Straight to answer phone: “Hey, you’ve got Veronica, leave me a message…”

“Fuck!” I say out loud, I feel like launching the phone into the wall but I can’t, if anything, he’d message me and tell me he’s still alive. But he hasn’t. Not yet.

I scroll through my phone, all the way to C and pick Cheryl’s number. It rings, Jug would tell me that this is a good omen but I don’t see how it is when she’s not answering.

No answer. “Hey, Bitches! Leave me a message, or you know, don’t, I don’t have time to listen to them anyways…”

“Cheryl,” I say into the dead end phone. “If you’ve got Jug held hostage, let him know I’m at home waiting for him please.” I pause. “Ah, it’s Archie. Andrew.” shit. “Andrews. Archie Andrews. Bye.”

Fuck, I’m a dork.

I sit down on the bed and look at the time. It’s just after 1 P.M. Nah I’m not worried about an adult man who’s not come home last night.

I’m fucking sick over it.

I keep looking at my watch like something might change. I’m gonna beat that idiot until the cows come home once he does. He could be anywhere here. He could be anywhere anywhere. He would have told me if he was going to Toledo, right? Jughead wouldn’t have gone to Toledo though, he would have dragged my ass with him. I wouldn’t have wanted to but I would have gone anyways, there’s a lot of crap that kid talks me into. Where the hell was he?

I’d texted him so many times, I don’t even remember what the first text was but I’m shit scared right now and dad’s out of town. I could go next door and try and talk Alice into helping me find him but I’d rather not have her ask me questions about my failure of a scholarship.

Just thinking about it makes my knee ache. Useless fucking knee.

I snap back to reality when I think about ringing Veronica again. I know why she’s not answering, it’s because I’m the one calling. But maybe she’s seen Juggie, maybe he was at Misty Blacks last night? Who knows, I won’t unless I try calling her again. Cheryl probably worked the late shift, that’s why she’s not answering. I know too much about Cheryl and not enough about Ronnie, it’s annoying but sometimes asking Cheryl is the only way I find out anything about Ronnie. Jug tells me it’s a bit obsessive, but he’s the one who always tells me I have an obsessive nature.

Juggie.

I call Ronnie’s number. I’m surprised it’s ringing, so she hasn’t changed her number after all. But it cuts to answer phone. Shit. “Hey, Ronnie, it’s me,” I say, “Archie. Give me a call, it’s pretty urgent.”

I hang up.

I don’t even remember the last time I had to tell Ronnie it was me on the phone. I don’t really remember the last time I rang her for anything specific. One of the things I loved was that her and I were kind of just… I don’t even know, we just fit. I remember when I first saw her walking into Pop’s. I was stunned. Jug described it as enamoured. I love it when he tells me little bits and pieces like this because it gives me a whole new outlook on things, I was enamoured. I still am.

We always just fit; I could give Ronnie just a look and she knew exactly what I was thinking, I could start a sentence and she’d already finished it in her mind. We just were. We had just been for three years, I think the worst part for everyone else is that they all think she put her life on hold to move with me interstate so I could pursue my scholarship. The one that failed. Just like my relationship.

Dad always has this sort of knowing look on his face. Him and mom were High School Sweethearts and look how that played out. Sure, Ronnie and I met at High School but we loved each other; she loved me so much she followed me. And then she came all the way home. And so did I.

We used to talk about so much shit, it wasn’t funny. And that’s exactly what it was, most of it was shit. Most of it was shit at three in the morning or three in the afternoon while we were still in bed. She’d wake up and ask me so many questions and I would come up with weird theories and we’d laugh. We laughed a lot.

We used to laugh a lot.

But now she doesn’t even answer my phone calls and the panic is building up in me because not only can I not get the one person I love to answer my calls, I have no idea where my best friend is and I haven’t seen him in almost two days.

My phone rings.

I fall off the bed onto my knees when I realise that somehow my phone made it’s way to the ground. I scramble to pick it up, swiping it open, I don’t even look at the name. I hope it’s Jug. “Jug?” I say, gasping for breath.

“What’s so urgent?”

I can tell she’s pissed, but she’s also a little worried because her words are quick out of her mouth. I can hear her so clearly even though she’s a little muffled over the phone. Her words are bitter but I take a sigh of relief just hearing her. “Have you seen Jug?” I ask.

She pauses, I think she might be a little taken aback. “No?”

“No?”

“No.”

I squeeze my eyes shut and try and think of what Jug said before he left yesterday morning. “Have you seen him at all in the last twenty hour hours?”

“No?”

“Fuck!” I groan. “Ah, ok, thanks for calling me back…”

There’s more silence over the phone but I kind of like just knowing she’s on the other end. It’s like she’s here with me. I miss it. “Is everything ok, Archie?”

Archie. Not Arch, not Archiekins. Just plain Archie. “Yeah, everything’s cool,” I lie.

“Where’s Jughead then?”

I wonder if I should lie. Because I know that if Jug finds out I’ve called half of Riverdale, he’s gonna be pissed. But I can’t lie, not again. “I don’t know,” I tell her honestly. “That’s why I’m calling you, I haven’t seen him since he went to work yesterday morning to the station. I heard him on the Air but today’s his day off so I don’t know where he is…”

She sighs out loud and it makes the phone crackle. “Why are you worried?”

“Because he lives here and he hasn’t been home.”

“He’s a big boy.”

“I’m worried because he’s not ok, Veronica, god!”

She waits for me to cool down but I don’t think I’m cooling down, I just feel a little more sick. “Archie…”

“Ronnie,” I say sternly. “Jughead’s not coping. With Betts gone.”

“It’s been a year since she’s left, he could have gone to College with her, he could have still been with her if he had just sucked up his pride -”

“Well he didn’t and we’re all he has.”

“He lives with your dad, Archie. He’s never even left Riverdale, does that seem normal to you?”

“Jughead’s not normal, Veronica, you know that -”

“I feel like you’re getting a little twitchy so let’s leave it.”

I snigger and roll my eyes to myself, this is going nowhere. “Leave it,” I mumble. “Easy for you to say, you always do.”

I sound like Jug just spoke from inside my body and I scramble to get rid of him from my mind. I spend too much time with him, I swear.

“Not easy for me to say, actually. Considering the circumstances.”

I slap my hand to my face. “I’m sorry.”

She ignores me. “Come and get me, we’ll go looking for him…”

“Where?”

“Have you tried Pops?”

I ran there this morning, good excuse for exercise but also not good for my knee. “I went there, he wasn’t there then though…”

“His dad’s trailer?”

I shake my head, yeah, great way to make me feel better. “I didn’t even think about that.”

“Because you don’t think.”

Another stab at me, a low blow. “Ok, I’ll come and get you.”

She looks around my truck as though this was her first time in it. We were sixteen when I had sex with her in the back tray. I made it as romantic as possible, Betty leant me fairy lights and I strung them up. Veronica glimmered in the moonlight that night.

She tucks her hands under her thighs and keeps herself from touching anything. I wonder if she thinks she might pick up some sort of disease while she’s sitting in here, because the way she’s glaring at everything makes me feel like she hates it in here.

“Why is he struggling all of a sudden?” she asks me.

“He’s not struggling all of a sudden,” I say through my teeth. “He’s been struggling for a while…”

“Why?”

I look over to her but she keeps looking straight ahead, out the window. “Because I told him Betty has a new boyfriend.”

“Right,” she replies.

“Don’t you talk to him about Betty when you see him?”

I hadn’t really spoken about Jug and Ronnie’s new friendship before, but right now, I felt like I wanted to know all about it. I wonder if she tells Jughead everything about me, all about the life that we had made interstate. If she did, he didn’t let on.

“We don’t really talk about it.”

“Then why do you guys hang out so much?”

She smiles weakly and pulls down the sunshade before pushing her glasses further up her nose. They were her favourite pair, at our old place, she had a drawer filled to the top with just sunglasses, usually, she wouldn’t even wear the same pair two days in a row. “Because he missed you and I missed Betty. But now he has you back, but I don’t have Betty.”

“He should have just gone with her, you’re right.”

Ronnie sniggers and shifts a little in her chair. “It doesn’t matter how much you want to be with someone or how much it hurts. When you’re in love, you got to do the right thing. And he thinks that’s the right thing, letting her go and live her life.”

“You seem to know a lot about it.”

“It’s because I know what the right thing is, even if it hurts me.”

She’s so straight faced and her lips don’t even twitch even a little when she speaks. She’s deadpan. But she’s making my heart beat faster and it’s painful being so close to her even though I can’t touch her. I can smell her, I can feel her in my space but that’s it. Usually, I would be smiling at her, brushing hair out of her eyes, leaning over and kissing her. But not now. Not today.

“It hurts me too,” I mumble.

“It hurt me even more.”

“I know,” is all I can say.

We keep driving and I can see her shoulders dropping a little. It means she’s relaxing, I know, I used to see this happen every day when she’d come home from her old job at the coffee shop. She’d bring home so many free coffees that I’d drink like four in a row and I would joke and say I didn’t know what to do with all the extra energy and she’d joke back and tell me exactly what to do with all the extra energy.

I swallow even though my mouth is dry.

We pull up into the trailer park, I can see Juggie’s car by his dad’s trailer and I take a deep sigh of relief. “I thought he might’ve been with Cheryl,” I tell Ronnie. “But I’m glad he’s not, she’s all sorts of bad for him.”

“Maybe he could have been all sorts of good for her though? The best kind of good.”

“She doesn’t do good, well,” I laugh.

She light-laughs back. “Not even the good people can consistently be good. That would be too easy, complications are a necessary evil in life.”

I wish she would say that what I did was just a complication in life, but I think it’s way more than that.

I fucked life up.

I turn off the ignition and wait for Ronnie to get out of the truck before sighing in relief and closing my eyes. I don’t think I even breathed properly during that entire ride here and I just need one, good breath.

That’s until she starts banging on my window. “You coming in?” she asks me, throwing her thumb over her shoulder.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m coming,” I say opening the door.

I walk ahead of her towards Jug’s dad’s door and I reach up to knock but before I do, my hand is pulled back and she’s holding it. I look back at her and turn around to face her, my fingers cling on a little tighter to hers but she let’s go. “I just want to say that this is really nice.”

“What?” I ask, a little lost for words. “Driving to the trailer park?”

“No,” she says, rolling her eyes. “What you’re doing for Jug.”

I just shrug and knock on the door. “I know if this was me, he’d come looking for me too.”

The door isn’t answered but I’ve been here a million times and I find the stashed keys. I open the door and sure enough, I can tell he’s here somewhere. Ronnie steps through and eyes Jug’s car keys on the table. “Why does he come here when it’s like no one lives here?”

“His dad’s around,” I explain. “But maybe he’s in Toledo visiting JB?”

“Maybe,” she answers.

“JUG!” I call out. “Tell me you’re in here so I can beat your ass!”

Like he’s rising from the ashes, he springs up off the sofa, his hat falling off and his blanket laying on the ground. “Shit!” he shouts. “You freaked me out, dude!”

I inhale deeply and throw a cushion at his head, he manages to dodge it but he doesn’t dodge the second one but I rush over to the sofa and grab his head, shaking it a bit. “Where the fuck have you been?!” I almost shout. “I was freaking out!”

“I’ve been here,” he replies, pushing my hands away.

“Why?” Ronnie chimes in, “Archie’s been worried sick – he thought you might’ve been dead!”

“I have been a little dead,” he says, straightening his beanie. “I might as well have been.”

“Don’t talk like that Jug,” I say, whining a little. “It’s fucking morbid.”

He laughs a little and stands up, stretching out. “I thought you might like having the room to yourself, watch a little TV, hit the porn collection.”

I laugh too and shake my head, pulling his shoulders under my arms. “Come on bro, let’s go home.”

“I wanna ciggie first,” he says. “Need to have a little relax.”

We follow Juggie outside as he sits on the porch steps. I take a seat on one side of him and Ronnie, the other. She doesn’t hesitate in asking the first question. “Why didn’t you go home, Jughead? A little brooding of you, don’t you think?”

Jug smiles to himself as he lights his cigarette. “Just had a moment. Sometimes I don’t like being alone, sometimes I do. Sometimes I’m a burden on the Great Andrews Clan so I give them a break,” he says giving me a wink.

I shake my head and slap his thigh. “You’re never a burden on me. Only when you don’t tell me where the hell you are!”

“Your wife was worried sick!” Ronnie says laughing, she looks over at me and gives me a small smile. “We both were in the end.”

Jughead inhales loudly and nods. “I know, I should have told you… I just…” he doesn’t finish his sentence.

I hated seeing Jug like this. I know that with all his alone time last night, he would have been thinking too much about Betts. Sometimes it could be late at night and he’ll start telling me all the things they used to do when they were together. Sometimes it makes me feel like I didn’t know Betty at all but I guess he just knew her on another level. “Don’t worry bro,” I try. “We’re here for you.”

“I think the alone time does me good.”

“I don’t think it does, Jug,” I tell him honestly. “When you think too much, you know you get a little funny…”

He nods. He knows I’m right. “I don’t like to be alone, but I don’t like doing this to you.”

“You’re not doing anything to us, Jughead,” Ronnie says matter-of-factly. “What are friends for if not at least for company?”

Jughead takes a drag of his cigarette and offers it to Ronnie, she declines but I can tell she’s interested. Ronnie’s the kind of girl who indulges after a couple of glasses of wine or when she’s stressed. I watched her smoke a packet, that was only five months ago. I couldn’t even speak out against it. I was the one who drove her to it, I would have let her indulge in every bad habit of hers if it meant she’d come back…

“Is it so easy to just move on?” he asks. He gives me a sardonic look. “Probably the wrong crowd to ask huh?” Ronnie and I just look at each other. “She moved on, it was exactly what I wanted. I wanted her to taste the world, get lost in all this knowledge the earth is supposed to hold. I wanted her to do it, become more than me. And now she’s doing it and I feel like I’m going nowhere….”

Yeah, bro. I know what you mean.

The good and bad thing about Jug is that he’s amazing at pretending like he’s all good. We picked him up, he had a few more cigarettes and then he bounced right back. Ronnie said that she didn’t have anything to do today she wanted in on the pizza too. Juggie didn’t complain and I felt my heart rise up a bit higher in my chest because finally, she’s not sickened by the sight of me.

She doesn’t really talk to me, but sometimes she’ll at least look at me or laugh at some of the things I’ve said. She keeps her gaze mostly on Jug and it feels like she’s waiting for him to do something or say something. Something that’s worth watching or listening to.

Jug and Ronnie dig into the pizza we bought. They both go crazy but I just pick at Jug’s half eaten crusts and down a whole bottle of pepsi. I don’t usually drink that much sugar and now I feel like I’m on a sugar high.

We keep things pretty even at the table. We don’t talk about much and Ronnie keeps flicking me glances every time she thinks Jug’s getting a little down. We go back to my room. It feels like we’re sixteen all over again with my best mate and my girlfriend in my room.

But she’s not my girlfriend, is she? Not really. Not for a while now. But she falls on the bed, kicking of her Nikes onto the ground and laying back on my pillow like it’s completely normal. Jug does the same. It doesn’t feel normal to me at all.

He flicks on his TV, he chucks on a headset and I see him glance over to the window. One day he’ll learn that it doesn’t matter how many times a day he looks over to Betty’s window, she won’t appear. One day he will learn, but I’m not going to be the one to teach him. Not today.

Ronnie picks up a photo album that’s been sitting on my bedside table for over a year, one that Betts gave me before she left. “I love this album,” she says. “it’s super cute and has Betty’s name all over it. She’s going to be one of those old women who do scrapbooking, I can see it.”

None of us press on about Betty but Ronnie looks through the album, flicking page to page. “Look at you, Juggie, you were brooding even when you were a little baby!” she says, pointing at a pic of us when we were five.

I walk over and flick to the next page before she does and I point at a photo, Betts, Jug and I, all arm in arm and eight years old. “This was when Juggie used to duct tape his shoes together and look at Betts, she’s got pigtails!”

“Yeah, but look at how red your hair was, even more so when you were a kid. It’s cute.”

She used to say that after we got married, we’d have kids. She used to pick out names she liked as well, Chanel was one of them which she thought was tacky but also a little funny and beautiful for a girl so I liked whatever she liked. Her mom used to get mad about it because we’re only nineteen and we shouldn’t be thinking about things like that but I didn’t care. I felt like I was happy enough to talk about forever.

“Cute?” Jug laughs. “More like embarrassing.”

“You don’t like redheads?” Ronnie teases.

“More of a blonde guy, myself,” he says with a wink. We’re all silent again.

She keeps flicking through photos, one of Jug and I when we were twelve at the skate park, one of us at thirteen with Betty in between us for the Junior School disco. Fifteen year old Betts and I, she’s up in my arms with her arms wrapped around my neck, Ronnie and me with my dad in hospital, us two sitting on Jug’s car, us two sitting on the roof of my car. So many photos.

There’s one of us two, standing outside the Riverdale sign the day we left town to move interstate, she’s looking up at me and she’s wrapped up in my old Letterman. She loves me. I love her. It’s in this photo, I have proof. She shuts the album quickly. “I better go,” she says. She rolls off the bed and rubs Juggie’s head.

“You going already?” he asks.

“I’ve been here for ages, it’s Friday which means it’s maintenance night…”

“She’ll need a few solid hours,” I joke.

“What’s maintenance night?” Jug asks.

I go to answer but Ronnie reaches for the door. “See you guys later.”

“How are you getting home?” I ask her.

“Taxi?” she says, looking at me, shrugging. “How else?”

“I’ll take you!” I say a little too quickly. “Don’t waste your money.”

“It’s ok, I’m a big girl.”

“Ronnie,” I beg, I didn’t have it in me to fight. “Come on, I’ll take you.”

“Ever the gentleman, Archiekins.”

Just listening to that felt like progress.

She invites me in to her mom’s apartment. It hasn’t changed since the last time I was here. Which wasn’t long ago, really. We spent last Christmas here and that was when I bought her the necklace she’s wearing now. It cost me so much money, I think I’m still paying mom back the loan she gave me to pay for it but I know my girl likes the finer things and it was the price I had to pay. She likes the finer things but Jesus, she can be down to earth when she wants to be. Where it counts. Dad says maybe I take things for granted sometimes. It was something I learnt from my dad when I was only sixteen. I almost lost him and it was then where I realised how much he sacrificed not only for me, but for Jug as well. He homed him when he had nowhere to go, dad looked after me when he didn’t have much to give. I overlook things like that all the time, I don’t do it on purpose. It just happens. Jug says it’s just a part of me. It’s the bad part of me. Just like I took Ronnie for granted.

I feel a little sick when I think about all the guilt that’s in me. I remember the look on her face when she found out the truth. I can’t even put it into words, the look on her face. Or the amount of tears that she cried, I don’t know what stung the most?

The tears?

Or the look of hatred on her face?

I shake the thoughts out of my mind as she comes back into her loungeroom with a glass of orange juice in her hand. “I know you don’t like sweet drinks this late at night but I figured it’s better than a shake from Pop’s so…”

I take the juice from her and take a sip, I smile at her because I’m grateful she’s even let me in. “Thanks, Ronnie.”

“It’s ok.”

We both just sit there and I can sort of feel her thigh touching mine. My leg cramps up a little bit because I don’t let it fall on to her any more than it is. Trying to hold my leg up and sit up straight on the sofa is a difficult task when I’m so used to throwing myself by her and resting my legs in her lap. But we sit here anyways and sip on the juice she gave me.

“Your mom hasn’t changed the house much,” I laugh.

“Not since the last time you came? A few months ago.”

I don’t tell her it’s been seven months. “Yeah, I guess so.”

She sighs and leans her head back on the sofa. “I love being here,” she tells me. “it’s so relaxing being here at mom’s. I guess I finally enjoy being treated like a little girl, I used to hate it.”

I laugh and nod, drumming my fingers against my glass. “Yeah, you did. Remember when you always used to rebel against your mom? You were so hot headed.”

She laughs too. “I used to hate her being so controlling but now I understand her a bit better, I think,” she says, finally looking at me. She looks down at my glass before looking me in the eye. “I think maybe she just didn’t want me to get hurt.”

I feel a lump in my throat and this time, I look down at my glass of juice. “I don’t blame her,” I mutter against the glass.

“Hey,” she starts quietly. “I just want to tell you that what you do for Jughead, it’s really nice.”

“I would do anything for him. I really would. Jug’s been my best mate since we were kids, there’s nothing I wouldn’t do for him.”

She puts her glass down on the coffee table and puts her arm around my shoulder. “It just reminded me so much of all the good in you. Reminded me of why I loved you.”

She’s so close, I can feel her breath on my lips, already I can taste her on my tongue and I can feel her chest pressed against my arm. I want to rewind time, go back all those months and that day, I want to relive that day. I want to have never gone out. I don’t want to screw up, I want to go back so it can just be me and Ronnie laying in our old unit, just us two. I want to go back to the time where I loved her so much, it made me happy. Not ruin me.

I want to be able to taste her whenever I want, to touch her whenever I want. I want to be able to laugh with her, joke with her. Talk all serious future plans with her. I want to be with her again. But I can’t and the guilt eats me alive. Jughead always said I was too honest for my own good but the one time I wasn’t, it ruined everything.

She’s so close to me and I’m looking at her. I’m really, really looking at her. Her eyes are so hurt, her lip is stuck between her teeth and she’s sort of shivering, I don’t think it’s from the cold. I think it’s from me.

I can see her edging closer, she licks her lips and she’s so close, I hear her do it. But I lick mine too.

Her lips press against mine, and I haven’t felt so fucking good.

Her hands are creeping up my neck, her hands are still so smooth and I feel her nails scraping on my skin, her tongue edges in slowly, overlapping with mine and she sighs into my mouth. My hands move slowly up her skirt, her thighs are cold but my hands are warm and I feel goosebumps under my finger tips. I groan into her, feeling more and more of her before it all ends and she quickly moves off me, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. “Sorry!” I say quickly, trying to flatten my hair. “Sorry, Ronnie, I’m sorry!”

My heart won’t stay still so I bang my hand to my chest, looking at her with wide eyes because fuck, I don’t want to piss her off, not again. This was the closest I had been to her in months and I can’t let it end like this because we got a little lost in the moment.

She smacks her lips together and she frowns at me, eyes begging for something. “Arch…”

“Ronnie,” I say again, shoving my keys in my pocket that were sitting on the couch. “I’m sorry, but maybe this is the universes way of saying something…”

“Yeah,” she sniggers. “It’s the universes way of telling me I have no self control and I’m still not ready.”

“For what?” I ask, rubbing the back of my neck.

“For letting you back in my life.”

Do love it? Hate it? want more? Guys?

#ANGST TRASH BAG QUEEN IS MEH #varchie #archieronnie #veronica x archie #archie x veronica #veronica lodge #archie andrews #riverdale #varchie fanfic #varchie fanfiction

[oddsnendsfanfics]

Dead Man’s Affair - Pt 2

Genre: Fan Fiction (Peaky Blinders) Pairing: Thomas Shelby/OFC Warnings: Language, Death Rating: PG13 Length: Short Story Disclaimer: a strict work of fiction, I own nothing except the original characters and the plot line. In no way am I affiliated to any of it.

A/N: I felt we needed some more of Tommy and Eileen. 

Read:  Dead Man’s Affair Pt 1

"Thomas fucking Shelby," Polly's eyes narrowed and her painted red lips pursed. Hanging his hat and jacket on the designated coat rack, Tommy took his time to address his irritated aunt.

"Yes, Pol?' Tommy adjusted his sleeves and undid a button on his waist coat, preparing to take a seat at his desk.

"Do you mind telling me what the hell is going on? Taking jobs and not bothering to include the details or thinking to tell anyone? You lot take off for London and I'm left here to deal with your dirty work?" Polly huffed at her nephew.

Only she would dare to lecture Tommy on the jobs taken by the Peaky Blinders. Cowering to the corner of the office, Finn watched wide eyed, baited breath for Tommy's answer.

"I've taken on many jobs, you need to be more specific, Pol." Tommy squared his shoulders, his eyes calm and his jaw set.

Scoffing, Polly smacked her hand against Tommy's desk. "Don't play dumb, not with me, Thomas. I've had men all but knocking on the damn door looking for you and John. Whatever business you have with Alfie Solomons this time best be worked out and cleaned up, quickly."

Alfie Solomons had no current business with the Peaky Blinders, fucking Arthur, going behind Tommy's back again. When Tommy saw his older brother, there would be a lecture in that meeting. How many times had he told Arthur not to get into any business, without consulting him fist?

How were the Peaky Blinders to remain at the top, if they couldn't get their act together and work as a unit?

Tommy nodded curtly. "I'll sort any business with Mr. Solomons."

The answer seemed to ease Polly, as she looked less tense and her posture softened. Finn sat watching the interaction between the family elders, Aunt Polly and Tommy were always butting heads. There wasn't a time when Finn could remember the not.

"Tell him to keep his whore out of our office as well. Walking in here like she owned the damn place, demanding she speak to you straight away." Polly's lip curled in distaste.

"I don't know any ladies that keep his company," Tommy replied, pulling a stack of papers off of the desk corner. Bets to be made, bets to be paid.

"Ada seems to think you do." Polly looked down her nose at her nephew. "Eileen Clayton, she stormed in here claiming she'd had a meeting with you. You'd agreed to take a job for her?"

What did Eileen Clayton's horse have to do with Alfie Solomons looking for a war?

Tommy's crisp blue eyes darkened, his jaw tensed and the paper in his hand crumbled under the gripping pressure. "Eileen Clayton?" he repeated the name. "She had a horse, I agreed to help her with a racing issue. Nothing more and nothing less."

Finn perked up at the mention of the woman. He had remembered her well, perfectly curled dark hair, striking eyes and a coldness that had been aimed directly at the young man who had stalked about in the corner. Eileen Clayton was the woman who had murdered her husband, so Finn was convinced.

"You may want to tell her gentleman caller that." Polly warned.

"Yes, Pol." Tommy was growing irritated with the idea of Eileen Clayton. "I will have words with Mrs. Clayton."

Before he could stop them, the words were on the tip of his tongue. Sliding out and into the air, Finn could feel the wrath that was about to be laid and yet the words still came.

"I thought we weren't to make Eileen Clayton's business our own?" Finn piped up from the corner.

Jabbing a finger in Finn's direction, Tommy shot him a cold glare. "And I thought you were to shut your mouth, if you wanted to be a part of these meetings? Another word and I swear I'll..."

"Thomas, enough." Polly groaned at her nephews. "Finn, listen to your brother this doesn't concern you."

Slinking back into his corner, scowling, Finn didn't dare say another word. Tommy would deal with him later, which wasn't much concern for Finn although he knew Tommy would be pissed. Bidding her nephews farewell, leaving Tommy to the work that awaited, Polly left the two in a cold silence.

On his desk, Tommy pawed through a few more paper stacks, grumbling to himself in a low tone. Whatever bullshit Eileen Clayton was up to had to be stopped and fast.

"Finn." Tommy spoke curtly. "Go tell Arthur I need to see Mrs. Clayton and I need to find out why Mr. Solomons is involved."

"Yes, sir." Finn shot to his feet, dashing out of the office like a cat that had it's tail caught by a rocking chair.

Tommy Shelby wasn't accustom to waiting nor did he enjoy being kept waiting. Nearly four hours later, when Arthur knocked on the door to announce the arrival of Mrs. Clayton, the irritation in Tommy's mood was on full display.

Casually nodding a gesture of thanks as John Shelby held the door for her, Eileen Clayton strolled into Tommy's office. Dressed as if she were on her way to a gala, not a meeting with a gang leader, the brunette pursed her lips and her eyes locked on the man behind the desk.

"Sit." Tommy demanded.

"I prefer to stay standing, Mr. Shelby, as I assume you won't be pressing for too much of my time?" Her words were as chilly as Tommy remembered.

"Suit yourself." Tommy mumbled, adjusting his position in his chair. "My associates tell me that you've been causing quite the disturbance, Mrs. Clayton."

"Hmm, yes well, you see my associates have been telling me that it is you, Mr. Shelby, who is causing the disturbance. Once in which has greatly inconvenienced me. You were hired to do a job, the job requirements were never met. Is there a reason for that?" Eileen asked directing a glare at Tommy.

"No payment, no job. It's simple as that." Tommy answered with a cold stare.

His blue eyes were like ice, in colour and feel, as they dug holes into Eileen. Standing her ground, she refused to allow him to win. Thomas Shelby had been bullying too many in these parts and for far too long, be damned if she was going to be his next victim.

An honourable man, as he boasted to be, wouldn't have allowed the goons to show up at the Clayton Estate. An honourable man would have finished the job he had taken. An honourable man wouldn't have allowed his associate to wander into Eileen's home, in the middle of the night, making demands that were not of her favour.

"You received your payment, Mr. Shelby. As did every other man who came to claim my property." Eileen sneered at him.

"Now see here, Mrs. Clayton," Tommy spoke, pushing himself away from his desk. He rose to his feet, towering ever so slight over Eileen. Her red lips were set in a scowl when she reached into the neck line of her dress to produce the pistol.

Frantic for their brother's safety, John and Arthur both sprang to action, guns drawn immediately. Coldly, Tommy's lips drew into a smirk, there was nothing to fear here. Eileen Clayton may have shot her husband, but she would never shoot a man with witnesses. No, Tommy had his doubts that her gun was even loaded.

Tommy closed his eyes for a split second, composing himself the best he could, until he could talk his way out of this. Eileen's hands began to shake, a tell tale sign that she had no true intentions of using the gun beyond fear.

"Now, Mr. Shelby, I believe you owe me some answers." Eileen snarled. "If I don't believe you, then you best make your amends with God, now."

"Go ahead," Tommy calmly stated, his eyes burrowing into Eileen. Cocking the gun, Eileen's jaw was set and her hand shaking ever so slightly. "Pull the trigger." he challenged, the barrel of the gun to his forehead. "Pull the trigger on me, DO IT!" Tommy shouted, his eyes engulfed in anger.

"I don't want to shoot you," Eileen's voice quaked but the gun never moved.

"Then why do you have a fucking gun to my head?" Tommy was seething mad. If she wasn't going to do it, then why bother to threaten? "Either you shoot me or not."

Across the room, John's gun was waiting and aimed at the dark haired woman threatening his brother. One false move and the trigger would be clenched and the bullet released from the chamber.

"For fuck's sake, can somebody make a bloody move?" Arthur sighed, bored with the situation at hand. His gun pointed in Eileen's direction, ready to take Tommy's order, if the moment came.

"Arthur." Tommy hissed, raising his hands he calmly sighed. "Can we not be civilized about this?"

"Civilized went out the door, when Alfie Solomons had me stalked down and threatened in my own home. You, Tommy Shelby, wouldn't know about that?" Eileen jabbed the gun a little closer to his forehead. She wasn't bluffing, she'd shoot him alright. "Or what about my horse? I've had Ó Cleirigh's men ransacking my estate."

"Tommy?" Arthur asked tipping his chin and gun toward the woman holding his younger brother hostage.

"No, Arthur." Tommy growled. "Mrs. Clayton, I assure you..."

From somewhere a gunshot like noise of a backfiring engine rang out, causing Arthur to shout and John to react. Without thought, the trigger was clenched and the bullet set free from the chamber. Yelling loudly, Tommy's face drained and his heart thumped as Eileen Clayton dropped to the floor.

"Fuck!" Tommy shouted in rage. "John you fucking idiot!"

#dead man's affair #peaky blinder fanfic #tommy shelby fanfiction #ofc #character fics #fanfic #fanfiction #alfie solomons #arthur shelby #john shelby

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The Serpent's Captive Chapter 2

The Serpent's Captive Chapter 2     Jughead was getting impatient. He had been to Pop's enough to know his blonde waitress's routine. Every night, before the end of her shift, she would take out the trash to the dumpster in the alley way. It took her five minutes at most, than she was back inside, sitting with her friends as they finished off their milkshakes before leaving. It was nearing ten minutes and he was beginning to stir. “Chill Jug. Maybe she had more trash than usual,” Archie commented, dipping a french fry in his ketchup, shrugging his shoulders at his friend's agitation. Before Jughead could comment however, he felt his cell phone begin to vibrate. “What?” he snapped once the device was to his ear. He noticed the way both Toni and Archie winced slightly at his tone before returning their attention to the french fries and milkshake in front of them. “We ran into a bit of trouble Boss,” Joaquin's voice flitted through the speaker, his tone bored. Jughead exhaled a sigh, glancing towards the kitchen once more before nodding his head to his two friends. “Alright. I'll meet you at the Whyte Wyrm,” he replied, ending the call and following Archie out of the booth. Pulling his wallet from his pocket, he dropped enough to cover the tab plus a generous tip for his favorite blonde before lazily sauntering out of the old diner.     Betty groaned, wincing as she attempted to open her eyes. Her head was throbbing, and she was almost certain she would have a decent sized goose egg from where the one jerk had hit her. Forcing her eyes to remain open, she lifted her head and glanced around the room she was in. She was seated in a hard chair, a desk situated in front of her. The room was dim, something she was slightly thankful for and it looked clean. Voices. That was what had roused her from her impromptu nap. Turning her head, she noticed the trio from the diner standing close to the door way with the two goons from the alley way. “What the fuck do you mean he's dead?” the girl with magenta hair growled her question, and Betty could practically hear the anger in her voice.     This was the first time she was actually seeing them, and Betty couldn't help the way her eyes swept over each of her usual diners. The girl's magenta colored hair was long and always in an edgy style. Her amber eyes were warm, her lips always painted in berry tones similar to V. She was petite, but she didn't appear weak. She was dressed in a pair of black ripped skinny jeans and a white tank top, the arms elongated to reveal her purple bra underneath. The talkative boy had his red hair messily tousled. His chocolate brown eyes held laughter, as if he was constantly telling a joke. His shoulders were broad and Betty could tell he spent time working out, just from the size of his biceps. He was leaning against the wall besides the girl, blue shirt pulled tightly over his chest and dark wash jeans settled low on his hips. The boy who had caught her eye however was the one she truly noticed. His broad shoulders were tense under his black shirt, arms crossed and pulling the fabric taut over his chest. Black jeans with rips were settled on his slender hips, his stance telling of aggression. His raven colored curls were covered by a gray knit crown beanie and his stormy blue eyes were narrowed to slits. “So your first thought, finding her on the other side of the dumpster was to knock her unconscious, call me, and bring her here?” she heard the low growl of his voice, and her eyes widened slightly. She thought she had bit back her immediate response of a squeak. However, Raven turned his eyes towards her, noticing she was awake. “Clear the room,” he growled, turning away from the four other members, focusing his attention solely on her.     Betty felt every muscle in her body tense as he slowly crossed the room until he was standing across from her, leaning back against the solid wood of his desk. His hands were shoved into the back pockets of his jeans, legs crossed at the ankle, and a calculating look on his face as he took in her appearance. Betty straightened her spine, squaring her shoulders and lifting her chin fractionally as she met his storm colored eyes with a challenging look from her own apple green orbs. A smirk stretched across his lips as he waited a beat. That was when Betty finally heard the door close.     Jughead slowly took in the appearance of the blonde waitress. Her usually perfect ponytail had come undone, the blonde tresses tumbling down to the middle of her back. Her meadow green eyes were challenging, and her shoulders were tense. She was small, petite and so fragile looking that Jughead wanted to call Joaquin and Reggie back just so he could knock some sense into the idiots. The Serpent's had one rule, a rule the founding members had implemented when the gang first formed. No women and no children. Yet a woman had been brought to him because she might have heard the death of one of their drug mules. Jason Blossom had always disgusted Jughead. The man had been born into money and didn't exactly know how to treat others. Honestly, he was kind of glad to be rid of him. “So, what did you hear?” Jughead questioned lazily, watching the blonde beauty in front of him shrug her shoulders, looking away and mumbling something under her breath. “I'm sorry Princess, I didn't quite hear you,” he taunted lightly, smirking at the glare that she directed towards him. “Don't call me that,” she practically growled, watching the smirk stretch into a wide grin. “You're not exactly in any position to be making demands, princess,” Jughead stated easily, watching the way her shoulders dropped slightly. “I didn't hear anything,” she replied after a moment, looking away and glaring at the bookshelves that lined his office. “Sure about that?” he asked, taking in the way the emotions danced across her face. “Positive,” she replied firmly. “Sadly, my colleagues don't believe that to be the case Princess. So, until I can be sure that you won't be a problem, you're going to be our guest for a while,” he replied, pushing away from the desk and taking a step around her chair.         Betty shot out of her seat at that comment, twisting to face the Serpent who was demanding she stay. “Like hell I will. I already told you, I didn't hear anything. The Sheriff comes knocking, I'll tell him exactly what I just said. There is no reason for you to keep me here,” Betty snarled, her fists clenching at her sides as she glared at the taller man. He offered her a smirk, pausing a step to glance at her. “You and Toni are about the same size, I'm sure she'll lend you some clothes,” he replied, exiting the room. “Asshole!” Betty yelled after him, slumping back into her seat and glancing at her palms. She already knew the sight that would greet her, but still, she needed to see the damage. Her hands were covered in blood from the four small crescent marks, and she couldn't help the sigh that escaped her lips. “He's just protective. He doesn't mean to be a total asshole,” a slightly familiar voice stated, and Betty glanced over her shoulder to meet the warm amber eyes of the girl who was always at the diner with him. “I'm sure,” she knew she sounded bitter, but she was tired. Her entire life, she had been someone's hostage. Just when she thought she was breaking free, she was back in some tower. “I'm Toni. Jug, the asshole's name is Jughead, he's just looking out for you, and for us. The red head always with us is Archie. Here, that boy said you might want to change out of your uniform. I'll show you where you'll be staying tonight. Jughead wants you close, so it'll probably be one of the rooms up here for now. Just holler if you need help or something,” Toni stated, turning to leave. “Betty,” she replied, chewing her bottom lip before glancing towards her hands. “And maybe some bandages,” she commented, watching Toni's eyes narrow fractionally before offering a sharp nod and exiting the room.     Jughead's brow furrowed as he saw Toni carrying medical supplies up to his office. He glanced towards Reggie and Joaquin, calling out for Toni to wait. “Did either of you idiots hurt her?” he practically growled the question and both his friends shook their heads in a frantic no. “We grabbed her, knocked her out, put her in the car,” Joaquin stated easily, sharing a glance with Reggie before Jughead turned his attention back to Toni. “Why does she need medical supplies?” Toni only shrugged, a bored expression falling over her face before glancing towards the stair case. “I don't know. She asked for it. Why don't you go find out Boss. And by the way, her name is Betty,” she commented, shoving the first aid kit into his chest before sauntering towards the bar, muttering under her breath how she needed a drink. Jughead furrowed his brows, taking her advice and making his way back to his office. He didn't bother with knocking, pushing the door open. The sight that greeted him forced him to pause. Betty's back was turned, and all he could see was her pale skin, littered with silvery scars before she tugged the material of her borrowed shirt down. “Thanks Toni...” she trailed off when she noticed it was Toni standing int the door way but the Asshole.         Betty's eyes narrowed fractionally, crossing her arms over her chest before she watched his eyes fall to her hands, her clenched fists where blood was dripping onto the hard wood floor. “Did those dick heads cut you?” he nearly snarled the question, causing Betty's eyes to widen slightly at his tone. She shook her head, dropping her hands and forcing her fingers to relax. “No, no they didn't. I did this to myself,” she whispered, dropping her eyes to her now bare feet before she felt warm hands grab her wrists. “How?” he questioned softly, turning her hands over to inspect them. “I... When I get angry or feel anxious I dig my nails into my palms. I've done it for as long as I could remember, it helps ground me, helps clear my head so I can think properly,” she whispered, unsure as to why she was telling a complete stranger this. Jughead nodded his head, pressing his tongue into his cheek before leading her to the chair she had been occupying. “Try not to hurt yourself Beautiful. Throw something. I can promise you, everything in this room can be replaced,” he whispered as he dropped into a crouch in front of her and began to treat her hands carefully. Betty could only furrow her brow in confusion, unsure just what to think about the man before her. A/N: Well I wasn't expecting the response I got from the first chapter, however, I'm glad you guys like it. Hope you enjoyed, feel free to let me know what you thought!!