#or people are tired of pride edits right now

[vhstown]

ain't no love; pt. 3

"ain't no love and it's sure 'nuff a pity"

— miles g morales x gn!reader series

SUMMARY: Miles G Morales is just a kid without a father; the Prowler is just a "rotten" vigilante. Both of them start coming into your life — one in the middle of the semester, the other by total accident.

SERIES MASTERLIST 📼 ← PART 2 / PART 3 / PART 4 →

chapter summary: [DUAL POV] The Prowler is someone you never thought you'd run into. Miles thought the exact same thing.

content/warnings: grotesque imagery, depictions of panic and fear, violence, arguments, etc.

word count: 5.8k (dear god)

a/n: thanks to @qiupachups for proofreading cause lord knows i wouldn't have... im not ok guys like actua

“And over here is our robotics department — my favourite, personally.”

All you could think about as the man in front of you talked your ears off — and walked your legs off — was how on Earth you ended up here, rooms and corridors deep into the Oscorp Industries. Trying not to get hit by speeding interns or bump into equipment that cost more than your school uniform, you’d been taking in the winding laboratories and offices that were well past the flashy displays at the reception for the past hour or so, led by the one and only… well, the man had yet to introduce himself since excitedly deciding to take you on a tour. Forming connections, as Ms. Weber had put it, was more exhausting than you’d thought.

“Take a look at this arm for a moment — trained completely on artificial intelligence, and moves just like the real thing!”

You just smiled and nodded, the muscles in your neck starting to hurt from the action. As you did, the metal prosthetic spurred into life, swaying and flexing its bulky fingers in what looked random enough; how realistic it seemed was debatable, though. You noticed small, engraved initials on the wrist, reading “O.G.O”, much like the prototypes in the flashy displays downstairs. You’d seen nothing of the sort up here until now, though. Maybe this one was was just special.

Regardless, you really needed to sit down at some point — preferably in some corner so people could stare at you less. There was always someone throwing furtive glances your way, and right now it seemed to be a gaunt-looking man you’d seen slinking around the department, now in the little laboratory full of strange-looking arms and mechanisms that weren’t nearly as functional as the “A.I” powered one.

“Thank you, Doctor…” You squinted, the faded remnants of the name “MENDEL STROMM” forming on his badge. “Stromm.”

“Professor. Professor Stromm,” he corrected, earnest yet almost with pride. “I always felt like a teacher at heart, anyway.”

You only managed to make it halfway through your umpteenth nod before something caught the corner of your eye. The catching of light from somewhere above you, just for a moment — insignificant, really. It seemed to catch your attention long enough for Professor Stromm to notice your attention had gone elsewhere, though.

“Oh, I must be tiring you. Do you like coffee?” You barely had a chance to open your mouth. “I'll get us both some coffee, God knows I need it— just give me a minute!”

Before you could answer, the man skittered away, his rounder frame creating a noticeable dispersion the sea of people moving through the hall until he was nowhere to be seen.

That left you, a random kid, in the robotics laboratory with probably more than one pair of eyes on you. Or maybe not; when you let yourself look around, there didn’t seem to be anyone in the lab at the present moment. Thank God.

A long-overdue sigh left your chest. As much as you'd been lucky to run into Stromm by the reception (before the less-than-polite receptionist could tell you to beat it), you never expected to be running around so much from place to place, trying to make mental notes of everything he'd been saying.

So far, you had “A.I. arm”, something about “gene editing”, some other thing about “99% efficient generators” and a whole other string of scientific jargon thrown in between half-finished explanations and sporadic spurs of Stromm’s recollection. Admittedly, it stressed you out a little; you constantly had the urge to take a piece of pen and paper and record everything he was saying but you only needed a few brief ideas to go off of on your college essay. That was, if you were even going to go into the science field. You still hadn’t decided, though, if you were going to keep performing like how you did right now in your AP classes, you’d probably have your decision made for you soon enough at the back of those lifeless vegan diners opening up everywhere.

Maybe you could get an internship here, if you were lucky enough. Had you been showing enough enthusiasm? It was hard to match. In fact, the man was so enthusiastic he drained the enthusiasm from you. His passion was admirable, but also somewhat pitiful — like he had nobody to truly share his passions with it. At least until a bumbling, bashful sophomore from Visions came along. You’d rather not think about it too hard — this room was starting to make you feel dizzy. It was like there was something wrong with the ventilation, but you didn’t dare go out, given you’d probably get lost in a minute or two.

It was a week into winter break already, and the realisation made you wince. Just a couple weeks into January and you'd be head-first into exams again, while all your friends who went to other schools lived their lives. Visions just had to be different, it looked like. A couple more of Mr Wellston’s unbearable classes before that, though — instead of learning any math, you’d mastered the art of having one eye on your handout and the other on Miles’.

Miles Morales — you’d almost forgotten about him. Almost. It wasn’t hard, given how every text you’d send him had been left on read. He could’ve been busy, (or given you the wrong number) but the dread of being in that careers fair full of freshmen alone was staring to creep up on you. At least a little confirmation that he wouldn’t disappear off of the face of the Earth this semester would be nice.

Hey?

There was a twang in your chest as you looked over your barren chat.

Read at 2:41AM

…What unethical sort of time is that? He could just be bad at texting — or he just decided to hate your guts now. Either seemed unfortunately probable. Were you enemies, or something? Were you supposed to be annoyed? You’d known this kid for a couple weeks at most. Maybe it was weird of you for wanting to get his number so soon. Miles had his own life, even though he walked you back to your apartment in the middle of nowhere that one time. Why did you even care so much?

Maybe there just wasn't enough time in the day for the both of you.

Beep!

To your surprise, Stromm had come back faster than usual. He had a hand over his face, adjusting his glasses, but… no coffee in sight. The door locked automatically behind him, his badge wrung awkwardly around his neck, like he’d just thrown it on.

“Is the coffee machine broken, or something…?”

“They're completely out of cups, I'm sorry.”

“It's alright.” You could’ve really use that coffee right now, you thought.

Still, you smiled at him, feeling the ache in your face smile with you. The man seemed to be pondering something, standing still with a slightly tense expression on his face. He looked like he could’ve used that coffee too.

“Are you okay, Professor?” You tried asking this as unassumingly as you could, but it got a twitch out of him anyway.

“Yes, yes, I've just lost my train of thought…”

You waited, the faint murmurs down the hallway and the strangled breath of the ventilation system above filling the void of silence.

“Are we going to the next floor…?” you suggested.

“No, no,” he said in that melodic way he did, putting a finger up. At least he was somewhat like himself — just thinking, is all.

You decided to be patient, turning your head to stretch your neck slightly, feigning interest in the light fixtures above.

Just what the hell was that gigantic, moving shadow on the ceiling?

“Um, well I think we should go, it’s kind of warm in here—”

“Actually, I think you could do something for me.”

“What is it…?” Your eye twitched as you noticed a figure starting to form from the shadow.

“You see that robotic arm?” The one on display or the one sticking out of the god damn ceiling? “I think you should try it on.”

“What? Really?” It felt like something you’d get in trouble for, but nobody else seemed to be around — except for, you know, the dark humanoid figure right above you. “I— I think I need to use the bathroom first.”

“It’ll be quick. I mean, it’s already hooked up!” Stromm was already reaching for the device.

“No, it’s okay—”

Krrrrr… Bzzzzt!

The room flooded with darkness. Every light had gone out at the same time, the whirr of machines and electricity dying out.

“What on Ear—”

All but for a blur of reddish-magenta light.

Before you could open your mouth, the sound of a ruthless, metallic thud emerged, immediately followed by the crunching of glass, and then a choked breath.

Your vision suddenly sharpening in the little light there was, you could make out the silhouette of Stromm, staggering into the display which held the arm. Where he’d just been was now a foot, faint purplish light glowing from the underside of a shoe.

And then, a grating mechanical sound followed — it sounded like something was snapping over and over, like the arm you’d seen in the display as it moved its joints. A rim of light flickered around what looked to be a sleeve, which was attached to a giant, metallic set of claws, the sharp edges of which caught the light.

“Who are you?! W—What are you doing here?!” the professor shouted out, his feet heavy and erratic on the floor as he tried to ease himself up. His voice came out strange and desperate, strained, almost unfamiliar. You’d think it was someone else if you didn’t know it was Stromm.

All you could do was watch, taking tiny, careful steps back as you tried not to breathe. The figure moved forward, at an unnatural angle, turning as its mechanical claw clenched and unclenched in a now almost seamless movement. You caught the edge of a strange emblem, scrawled messily across the front of what looked to be a suit. It was familiar, and it sickened you once you realised.

“—In this morning’s report we investigate a disturbing string of robberies and break-ins, suspected to be carried out by a criminal duo including—”

There was no mistake — that was…

“The Prowler,” a voice answered for you, crackling and modulated.

“—Norman Obsorn suspects that Oscorp supply chains have been intercepted—”

An ear-piercing buzzing emerged from the air as threads of energy sputtered from the glowing core of his arm device, climbing rapidly up to the centre of his palm. What formed was a concentrated mass of ebnergy, undulating between the claws and casting harsh shadows around the room. Your eyes darted to Stromm, heart in your throat as you expected to meet a horrified, helpless version of the expression he had mere moments ago — it was anything but.

His face was stuck, slack — near dead. And as you watched the energy inevitably grow, his face began to change. What was once the face of Professor Stromm amalgamated into a shapeless, fleshless form, his skin receding into itself and leaving pallid, bloodless sheets of muscle, twitching with thick shadows in the ever-expanding light. As he lifted his head, deep, glowing pits were in place of his eyes.

The same strange voice that came out of the face, you realised, had never been Stromm’s to begin with.

“You are making a mistake.”

Before you could react, your skin singed with heat, sparks rushing past like missiles as the room threatened to explode into white. That was what finally gave you the sense to run.

“—It seems the notorious criminal and his accomplice have increased their activity among a concerning rise of organised crime. Authorities think they could be affiliated with what is coming to be known as ‘The Sinister Six’—”

CRASH!

Beyond your covered ears, a dull boom reverberated through the lab, a million broken shards of glass and plastic flashing with the aftershock. If you were hurt, you didn’t know, adrenaline ushering through your body. Your heartbeat was sharp and loud, your hands were shaking, bile was coming up your throat.

Get me out of here get me out of here get me out of here leave leave leave leave—

Your eyes were painfully wide, stinging with tears, yet everything was overwhelming and sharp and bright — that was when you saw it.

Glass case. Fist. You gritted your teeth.

CRRAAACK!

Big. Red. Panic button.

SLAM!

Instantly, the room exploded with red, blaring light, sirens howling through the room and beyond the door, the lock disabled. You caught one last gaze from those white electric slits before scampering into the hallway, door slamming shut behind you. All you could hear was the clatter of your feet in tandem with your thundering heart, throat too dry to scream. You just needed to get out of here, they couldn’t catch up with you — they wouldn’t.

Shoving past alarmed faces, you advanced to the end of the hall. Stairs — safest bet.

You scrambled down the dingy stairwell, hip throbbing with pain as you turned sharply against the railing down to the next floor. Sweat prickled at your skin, and you tried to breathe. The stairs seemed endless, but you were soon on the bottom floor, dragging yourself to follow everyone else leaving the building. Until you got out, you wouldn’t slow down.

Staggering into the cold, thin wind bit at your skin, the faint cry of police sirens from somewhere you couldn’t see. You tore the visitor’s badge from around your neck, filling your lungs again in big, painful gulps and squeezing your stinging eyes shut.

Never have you been more grateful to breathe in the musty Brooklyn air that you so, so hated.

“Miles…”

“I wasn’t fuckin’ thinking straight!”

“Miles.”

“I swear I had him I just—”

“Miles!”

“What?!”

“Jesus Christ, man. Calm your shit!”

Miles tensed as Aaron gave him a firm slap on the shoulder, the sick feeling in his throat easing just a little.

“It ain’t your fault.” The cool, collected voice of Uncle Aaron, much to his dismay, managed to break through his racing mind. It was his fault — everything was his fault. He’d messed up everything!

“Yes the fuck it is!”

“Watch yo’ mouth.” Aaron had a sudden severity in his tone, kicking Miles back into normality.

“Sorry,” he mumbled back.

Miles elbowed the punching bag beside him, unable to meet his uncle’s eyes. He’d let the man they’d been chasing for the past month to get away, all because he’d been too hasty — too immature. And you had made a stupidly smart decision to press that damn alarm.

“I’m sorry, okay?” he mutters again, voice seeming to fight itself.

“It’s not your fault,” Aaron repeats.

“He’s gon’ kill more people regardless. He could’ve killed—” He bit his lip, hard; your name was right at the back of his throat.

Aaron met his gaze again, but he didn’t give him the courtesy of returning it, eyes stuck to the ground.

“…There sumn’ you’re not tellin’ me?” Aaron asked.

Miles just shrugged, bottom lip freeing itself with the lingering sting of his teeth. There was probably a lot more than there should be that he hadn’t told his uncle.

Walking over to the drawer, he pulled out the dusty old case file. It had tattered corners and the paper had a weird feel to it, like it was from a long time ago: 3 years, to be exact. It was an older case that had re-emerged some time ago — the last case his dad was involved in.

Flicking it open, he was met with all the reports and notes, ones he’d grown sick of seeing: “Unidentifiable suspect”, “vague circumstances” and “unverifiable” were some of the few reasons why. They weren’t going down the “typical” route of investigation, but it didn’t make it any easier that they could break down a few doors without a warrant.

For the past month, Miles had been searching for leads, clues, chasing down suspects of these missing person’s cases — all of them leading him right back to where he started. Every time he thought he was getting closer, he’d go back a hundred steps. Everything about this case lacked any sense of logic; people would disappear without any sort of reason, completely by random. There was no pattern to these cases, except for the fact that whatever circumstances that surrounded them were vague and undetailed.

No name, no face, no form. But he’d finally managed to catch the fish at the end of the hook, following someone who had yet to go missing: a certain scientist at Oscorp industries, who worked in robotics and hadn’t been seen for 24 hours, but showed up to work the next day somehow.

That man had followed another scientist — Mendel Stromm — only to come back in his body. Miles had let it happen, out of necessity, he thought — to finally see what was going on. And he did, he saw the man transform into Stromm. He saw the man walk back into the laboratory and act as it nothing had happened.

And then, he saw you.

You. He wasn’t blaming you for this, was he? No, it wasn’t your fault, you just happened to be… in severe danger.

Miles could’ve prevented this, had he not been so desperate — so conflicted. He could’ve texted you back, told you to stay away from Oscorp instead of typing and deleting the same awkward replies late at night.

And he was supposed to go back to school and see you, and do that job fair with you, right after he’d saved— Right after you saved yourself — from the Prowler. From him.

“You alright?” Miles whipped his head around to see Aaron looking at him, a slight hint of concern in his face.

“Yeah—” He stopped himself from saying sorry. “Gonna head home.”

Miles pushed the drawer shut, feeling the eyes of the people he’d left behind on him — more recently, Mendel Stromm. He wondered if they blamed him just as he blamed himself.

As he walked back to his apartment, he slipped on his jacket — Uncle Aaron’s jacket. He even felt guilty for wearing it, damn it.

Shutting the door and world outside behind him, he took a hesitant glance at the shoe rack. His mom’s shoes were missing.

“Took an extra shift. Dinner’s in the microwave. Tqm!" (Ily!)

“Y yo te quiero,” (And I love you) he mutters to himself, careful not to crease the note between his fingers.

At least she’d never find out. His mom would be off work soon, so he’d get to spend time with her, hopefully. He was just busy himself, with school starting again next week, the job fair, a million different quizzes, meetings with the guidance counsellor…

His dad’s anniversary was right in-between that.

Miles folded up the note, and then tossed it in the trash. All he wanted to do was go to sleep, but he hadn’t done any of his work for the winter break.

So, with a deep breath, he headed to his room, sitting at his desk. Miles tried to ignore the numerous sketches of his own gear, and half-finished faces as he tried looking for a pen in his drawers.

One drawing caught his eye, a familiar face. Well, it wasn’t exactly a face. It wasn’t finished yet, but he could picture the way it’d look if it were finished. It was “a friend”, he’d practised telling himself in case his mom decided to clean his room without telling him — you, without an expression but the curve of your cheek and the start of your hair he’d been so focused on instead of your eyes whenever he’d talked to you.

“~Ain’t no love… and it’s sure ‘nuff a pity…”

As he opened his notebook, faint music played from his phone, in an attempt to get him to focus. Still, he wondered if you’d find it weird that he drew you, how you’d look at him if you ever knew about it.

Miles wondered how you’d look at him if you knew he was the one at Oscorp — The Prowler.

“Guys, I don’t think he’s coming.”

“No shit!” The sound of laughter burst out in the room. All you could do was sigh, head on your desk.

Winter break had gone faster than you’d expected, especially given the amount of time you spent in the police station. They asked you the same questions, over and over and over, until you started to doubt your own memory. It was probably necessary, to prove you weren’t lying, or something, but it was exhausting, and you were just glad it was over.

“Why were you in Oscorp to begin with?”

“Do you remember the exact time it was before he left?”

“Are you certain it was Dr. Stromm that walked in?”

“You’re sure?”

You didn’t want to think about it, and you didn’t need anyone else to know either. It was better to pretend nothing happened, and that you’d had a productive break like everyone else apparently did. Bunch of try-hards.

The problem now, though, was that Mr. Wellston thought it’d be a good idea to disappear on you right before your midterm. He was supposed to finish teaching integration by now, but your class was far from — and of course, it was coming up on the exam.

You didn’t have a supply teacher either, though that was a good thing. Maybe Wellston would get fired, you’d get a new calc teacher, and all would be right in the world. But for now, you had to deal with these overly-pretentious people you called your classmates, (and always seemed to be okay with Wellston’s incompetence for some reason) talk about how easy the exam was gonna be, and about the homework that Mr. Wellston never checked anyway, and about college — because all anyone ever cared about here was getting into an Ivy. Maybe you should’ve just gone to public school. You pushed that thought back before you could seriously started to consider it.

Instead, your thoughts went to the person slouched at the desk next to you: Miles, the kid that had suddenly lost all interest in talking to you entirely. It wasn’t just the boredom of having Calc BC last period, too. For one, he’d never try to start conversations anymore, and two, you couldn’t even hold a conversation with him if you wanted to. When you greeted him in the hallway today, he just walked past, not even bothering to look at you. Maybe he hadn’t been busy over winter break like you thought — he’d just been ignoring you.

“Bro, that’s Principal Evans! Shut up!”

You squinted your eyes, heart dropping as you saw the Principal advance down the hallway, right towards your class. Miles didn’t move at all. In fact, he looked like he was… asleep?

You’ve gotta be kidding me.

“Miles…!” you whisper-shouted, shaking his shoulder to no avail.

Sighing, you thought about slapping him for a moment before deciding against it, shaking his shoulder it a second time, The boy got up with a start.

“Huh…? Wha… what? What do you want?”

“Prin… ci… pal..!” you mouthed, furrowing your brows at him and pointing to the door.

“Oh, damn…” He stifled a yawn, rubbing his eyes before straightening up on his chair. As much as Miles liked to annoy teachers, anyone would quickly come to learn that annoying Principal Evans was a death wish — from both her, and your parents.

As he fixed up, you caught a glimpse of his face for the first time today. So much for promising to not look at him. Exhausted wasn’t enough to describe it — he looked like he’d gone to war, or something. At least you’d managed to sleep well enough, without dreaming about Oscorp. Count your blessings, I guess.

You didn’t have much time to relish in your few blessings, though, as the tall, well-dressed woman stopped by the door. She peered in, before her brows knitted together, opening the door.

“Y’all don’t have a teacher?” she said, in that quick, strong voice that put you all on edge. Some of you had the confidence to mutter a “no.” or shake your head. “Who are you supposed to have?”

She shook her head as your class answered, pulling out her phone.

“Gimme one second. I don’t care if the period’s almost over. Fifteen minutes of class is fifteen minutes of class…”

You held back the urge to sigh again. If Wellston showed up, he’d probably force you all to stay back an hour and “catch up”. That, and you had the careers fair to help out with right after this period. The door closed again as Principal Evans took a call outside, and you let your eyes shut.

“Hey Martin, I’ve got a class here that…” Her voice fading into the background and your class starting to murmur again, you opened your eyes, only to catch Miles’ gaze just for a second.

“What?” you said, looking at him, though it came out a little too confrontational.

“What?” he mirrored back, though it came out a little too much like a statement. Miles — always good at making you feel stupid, you supposed.

“What’s up with you today?” you started, deciding it was better to bite the bullet.

“Nothing. Why?” Maybe not.

“Are you going to the careers fair…?”

“I kind of have to.” You probably should’ve slapped him when you had the chance.

“…Yeah, but—”

“Alright! Silence!” Principal Evans was at the door, holding it open with her foot. “Nobody’s comin', so y’all gotta do some work until the bell. I do apologise.”

There was a little commotion as people “got to work”, and you shot Miles one last glare before pretending to be interested in the notebook you’d had closed all period.

And so, fifteen minutes passed by with the sound of scribbling next to you, and when you stubbornly tried to peek, his arm just had to be in the way.

A lot was in the way between you two, it felt like. So much for being friends.

The bell finally rang, and you stretched a little as people left, preparing yourself for another hour or two before you could go back to your dorm. At least you wouldn’t have to talk to Miles, you had… freshman to talk to. Maybe this was a learning opportunity — I hated freshman, but from participating in a careers event at my school, I learnt that they’re not just people I have to shove past to get into the cafeteria. At least you didn’t have to put that abysmal sentence in your college essay until next year.

The chair next to you screeched, making you jump a little. You stopped yourself from cursing under your breath, noticing Principal Evans still lingering by the door. She was ushering the last people out, a crease between her brows.

“What class is this?” Her voice was directed at you, you realised.

“Calc BC,” you replied.

“Calc BC…” She seemed to emphasise every sound as she talked, as if she was thinking about something important. “Well aren’t you a bright bunch?” You managed a tiny smile, feeling like you weren’t a part of that “bunch” at the moment.

“I don’t mean to bother you, but… do you know what happened to Mr. Wellston?” you asked, slinging your backpack over your shoulder. You couldn’t believe you were asking about him, but you really needed to figure out how you were gonna pass — and soon.

“I know as much as you do,” she shrugs, earrings swaying as she turns her head back to her phone. “If you wait, I might be able to find out for you. Is it urgent?”

“I mean…” you started, before you felt a slight nudge at your arm.

“We’re gonna be late.” Miles gave you an unreadable look, and for some reason you relented.

“It’s fine, Principal. Thank you.”

“Take care now.” She moved out of the way for you to leave, but before you did, she spoke up again. “Oh, and Miles — I’m already making arrangements, so expect me to call you up at some point.”

“Cool. I mean— okay, thanks,” he mumbled, starting to walk down the hall.

You followed, having to push to keep up among the many students that were moving past. Damn fast walkers…

Feeling the uncomfortable need to talk, you opened your mouth. “We’re going to the gymnasium, right?”

“Yeah.”

“When can we leave?”

“Like, 6pm, or something.” Great.

“That late? How long’s the fair?”

“Thought you’d know.” Oh, maybe.

“I would, if someone told me,” you huffed under your breath.

There was another stretch of silence between you, the school starting to empty as you walked towards the other side where the gymnasium was. Miles didn’t have his earphones in, so there wasn’t much of an excuse for you to be ignored. Somehow, that made you feel less confident to speak.

“How was your break…?” you tried. He was unresponsive for a moment before shrugging.

“Boring.”

“...Yeah, same.” You didn’t sound very certain. The look he gave you made it clear he could tell. There was an uncomfortable pause that made you regret talking in the first place.

“…You okay?” he asked, suddenly.

“What?”

He took in a deep breath, looking at you more seriously. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah… why?” You raised your brow at him, even if he couldn’t see.

“Don’t need a reason to ask.”

“I’m pretty sure you do.”

“It was a rhetorical question.”

“How the hell was that a rhetorical question?”

“That one’s rhetorical too.”

When you realised what he meant, you couldn’t help but smile slightly at the stupidity of your conversation. You thought you caught the corner of his mouth raise too.

“Good thing Ms. White doesn’t pick on you, then,” you joked.

“Watch it, I got an A in English.” The way he said it almost made you laugh. Almost. You wouldn’t give him that.

“Right. And what don’t you have an A in?”

“Calculus.”

“No way…” You gave him a dubious look. “Seriously?”

“A plus.” He was definitely holding back a smile.

“Shut up.” You held back your own smile, too.

The both of you made it to the halfway-point of the campus, where the greenery and outdoor seating was — the place where they’d take all the promotional pictures. If only they could maintain the rest of the school like that too. Though you had to admit, it was a nice day out for January.

Miles stayed silent as you walked. You decided to stay skeptical for now, but a part of you also really just wanted to get along with him. Better than being annoyed at his existence for the next 2 hours.

Maybe he’d just had a bad day — or a bad winter break. He’d been absent for a while, anyway. That wasn’t for no reason. Maybe he just had a lot on his plate. A lot to catch up with, especially.

“How are you getting As anyway? Haven’t you like… missed a lot of classes?”

“I guess.” He shrugged, and the setting sun made it clear that he looked more frazzled and tired than usual. His hair looked like it hadn’t been re-braided in a while, though you wouldn’t tell him that.

Still, when he squinted uncomfortably at the sunlight shining right in your direction, you couldn’t help but notice his eyes again. One was slightly more green, the other slightly brown, coppery flecks in each. They were barely distinguishable in the dim fluorescent light of the school, but you couldn’t help but stare.

He was damn pretty. He was everything, it seemed. Smart, interesting, unique, mysterious, good-looking… You cringed at the realisation that this probably wasn’t a normal thing to think about someone you were supposed to be mad at. Were you supposed to be mad at him…?

“Guess everyone that goes here is a genius huh?” you continued in a rhetorical fashion, a part of you hoping he’d made the same awful joke again,

“That include Rafael?” You pressed your lips together at the mention, stopping the laugh from forming.

“He’s…” you tried, and failed. “Definitely something.”

“You’re smart, though.” You almost stopped walking. He said it so quietly you almost thought you’d misheard.

“I am literally failing Calc.”

“You’re almost failing Calc,” he corrected.

“I will be failing Calc in a week’s time.” You might as well admit it. The thought of that exam next week was hopeless.

“You ain’t even that bad at it.”

“Uh-huh.”

“It’s just practice.”

“Right, right, yeah. I’ll do that.” You didn’t sound very reassured. Miles didn’t seem to be in the mood for reassuring, either, shoving his hands in his pockets.

As you approached the gymnasium, you recognised more of those colourful, weirdly-designed posters, the ones you’d posted around school. Who even made those…?

Someone else was in the distance, walking around the corner. You did a double-take as you elbowed Miles.

“Hey, is that…?” You trailed off, the two of you stopping abruptly.

“The hell is he doing here?”

“No clue. Why’s he coming this wa—”

Suddenly, you felt yourself being pulled behind one of the pillars, and then directly facing Miles.

“What are you doing?!” you whisper-shouted.

“Just shut up for a sec…!” he whisper-shouted back, widening his eyes at you before peering past your less-than suitable hiding place.

His face was just a breath away from yours, arm blocking you from moving, or really seeing what he was so desperately trying to look at. Your heart was starting to thump in your ears, and you couldn’t find it in you to breathe, eyes fixed on his hand curled around your wrist for a moment before he let go, focusing on what was in the distance.

“Nobody’s seen him all day,” he mutters to you.

“Yeah, I know, but why are we hiding?”

“He’s— Just keep still.” He giving you a warning look, much like the one he gave Rafael — this time, with a hint of worry.

Deciding to keep your mouth shut, you dared to look past the pillar, just as he did.

There, approaching the gymnasium back door, was Mr. Wellston. The man came to a stop, walking awkwardly beside the wall, glancing around as if he was trying to avoid something.

In a split second, he disappeared behind one of the pieces of foliage. Miles stared hard, grabbing your arm and advancing the two of you closer. You were confused, before Miles’ grip on your sleeve tightened. Only then did you see it.

Almost seamlessly, Wellston disappeared, taking on the form of a police officer, yellow visitor’s badge around his neck — P.C. Williams, officer for the careers fair.

“Jesus Christ…” Miles muttered, eyes fixed on him, right until he went through the gymnasium doors.

You thought the exact same thing.

thanks for reading and soz for the VERY late update im literally being teabagged by my real life lol! lmk how u found it yasss like and subscribe hit that bell

reblogs super appreciated! go back to the series masterlist here or find the rest of my atsv stuff here!

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#miles g morales x reader #42!miles x reader #42!miles morales x reader #atsv fanfiction #earth 42 miles x reader #prowler miles x reader #miles g morales #miles g #42!miles #miles gonzalo morales #prowler miles #atsv x you #atsv #across the spiderverse #atsv x reader #vhstown

[tlou-reid]

Get her back! ❤︎ Abby Anderson

♡ SUMMARY: abby was so in love with her roommate Nora's girlfriend, she can only control herself so much when you come to get your things after a fight

♡ WARNINGS: angstttttt, unrequited love, pining, heart broken abby :(

♡ NOTES: this is my september challenge for the pandemic prose server! based on get him back! by olivia rodrigo. it is not edited love u guys!

—♡

Abby was tired of the constant buzz surrounding her. When you and Nora first got together, she did not expect it to be such a big deal. She figured with a literal apocalypse surrounding the WLF, there would not be any time to gossip and glitz about what was going on with you two.

Sure, Abby and Nora were roommates at the time, so she was expecting some kind of infiltration into her life, but she at least figured she could walk to the cafeteria without hearing your guys’ names in a sentence. And when it started becoming a conversation subject when she was out on patrols, she was ready to snap.

She knew why it drove her so crazy, she just did not want to accept it. The way her skin lit up when you hugged her after she got injured, or how her eyes constantly searched for you when she walked into a room, or how she always chose the chair next to yours. Abby was hopelessly in love with you and was too scared to do anything about it.

So, yeah, hearing everyone talk about your new relationship with Nora was aggravating her. A lot.

However, it was nice to feel in the loop with things going on. Truthfully, sharing a room with Nora meant that she had the inside scoop on your relationship. She knew when you guys were happy, when you guys were arguing, when you guys were taking small trips together, and everything else in between. She also knew that recently, there was a lot of arguing (which also meant taking trips together, as that was Nora’s go-to solution when apologizing to you).

There was some kind of rift forming, and she could hear Nora apologizing to you through the door. She was going to walk away, let the tension drift away before she entered the room, but, for the first time, she heard you argue back with her. It was hard to make things out clearly, but she heard your voice raise, and you insinuated something about Nora flirting with your friends.

Abby couldn’t help the smirk on her face as she listened to you yell at Nora, your heavy voice seeping through the wood of their shared door. She was frozen, and too busy allowing her heart to fill with pride to notice the door knob begin to turn. She didn’t realize the shouting had stopped until you were walking out of the door. Your eyes fell on her, shooting her an evil glare.

You didn’t mean to be mean to Abby, she was always sweet to you (sometimes, too sweet. like when she held onto your thigh during the ride to the last scar base, but you wouldn’t tell anyone about that), but she was friends with Nora. And right now, there was nothing but hate in your heart for her.

You quickly scrambled away, trying to put as much distance between yourself and Nora as quickly as you could. Abby watched with saddened eyes. You seemed so small, so defeated. She hated seeing you like that. “What are you doing?” Nora’s voice interrupted her thoughts. Abby couldn’t help the nasty look she sent Nora’s way. She didn’t respond to her question and Abby's muscled shouder bumped against Nora’s as she forced her way inside the door.

There was no sign of you for a few days. The chatter didn’t stop, but the tone of it changed. There were no more outward declarations of how cute you guys were together, but, instead, there were hushed whispers of people wondering why they hadn’t seen you two together. Abby knew the answer and knew how much the truth would shake the WLF community, but she respected you too much to tell your business to anyone.

The knocks on Abby’s door only added to the headache she was currently nursing. The patrol she had been sent on was awful. There were scars pretty much every time turn and her group was severely under-manned. All she wanted was some peace and quiet, and maybe to take a nap.

However, her annoyance completely dissipated once she opened the door. There you stood, avoiding eye contact with her. “Oh,” she said softly, “what’s up?” Abby tried to ignore the deep circles around your eyes as you spoke, “Is Nora here? I just want to grab my things.” Abby was surprised at how your voice sounded. You weren’t sad or mournful, you seemed to be more angry, more jaded.

“Yeah, yeah,” Abby felt awkward. You’d never been in the room alone with her before, “Come on in.” She stepped back, holding the door open for you. You hesitated before you stepped in, and even stopped to scan over Nora’s side of the room before you started making your way over to the dresser she had on the side. You opened the bottom drawer, the one Abby knew had been designated yours, quite aggressively. The whole dresser shook with the force you used, but you didn’t reach in to grab anything. You just stared your belongings in the open drawer.

Abby’s eyes couldn’t leave your form. You felt her stare burning into the back of your head. You knew Abby and you had a special relationship. You cared deeply for her, and she definitely cared deeply for you. What you two had was more than platonic, but you were with Nora. Were? Are? Will be? You weren’t sure. You loved her and hated her at the same time. You wanted to be with her, but you also wanted to be as far from her as possible.

You didn’t notice the frustrated groan you let out at your thoughts, but Abby definitely did. She shifted from her place on her own bed. Her body subconsciously moved closer to you, not liking that you were upset. “Hey, you okay?”

“No!” you exasperated, “I hate her, Abby!” You hadn’t even meant to let the words slip. You weren’t even sure if you meant them. Abby was frozen in her spot, not knowing what to do, as more words fell from your mouth, “I hate her, and I love her at the same time! I want to hurt her like she hurts me but I never want to see her cry! I get so angry and then I miss her and I get sad! I don’t know what to do!” Angry tears had begun to slip down your cheeks. You were glad Abby couldn’t see them. You didn’t want to embarrass yourself in front of her (even though there was no chance in hell you could. abby would’ve wiped the tears off of your face and pressed her lips against the trails they left if you would let her).

Abby was surprised at the lack of sadness in your tone. There was nothing but anger as you spit out such confusing words. Abby’s eyebrows furrowed as she tried to decipher what to say next. She didn’t like seeing you angry and she wanted to do everything in her power to make sure you were happy again, she just wasn’t sure how. All you could muster was, “Do you need a bag to put stuff in?”

At this, you finally turned around to face her, only after wiping the remnants of your tears. Your eyes scanned her body. She looked beautiful, sitting on her bed. The way she was manspreading was so inviting, you just wanted to plant yourself in her lap and never leave. “I want to get her back, Abby.” You declared. Your tone had shifted. It was dark, truly conveying the anger you were holding.

“How?” Abby inquired. Her brain also began conjuring ideas. She would help you get your revenge in whatever way she could. She could help you make Nora jealous. She’d do whatever she could, especially if it meant she got to be close to you. She would do whatever you asked (but you didn’t know that. yet.)

You stepped closer to Abby and let out a gentle, “hmmm”, indicating that you were thinking. After a few seconds, you, with a cunning grin on your face, said, “I want to make her jealous. I want to make her feel really bad.” The look on your face had Abby breaking into a smile, “how are you gonna do that?”

“You’re going to help me.” You declared. Abby’s smile fell at your words. “H-how?” She stuttered out. God, she wanted you to use her in any way you could. She would do anything you asked. And now, here you are, asking.

“I don’t know,” you sighed in defeat. It’s hard to plot revenge on someone you still had feelings for. “Do you have any ideas?”

Of course, she had ideas. She could think of a million and one ways to make Nora jealous. She could kiss you in front of her, hold your hand in front of her, look at you with loving eyes in front of her, fuck you on her bed, cuddle up with you in Abby’s own bed when she knows that Nora would be coming back, she could do absolutely anything. And it would take no acting on her part. It would be believable because it would be real.

“No,” she lied straight through her teeth, “I don’t know.” You let out another frustrated groan. “It can’t be too bad, y’know? I love her. What if we get back together?” You rambled again. Abby’s heart was breaking at your words. She couldn’t help the attitude she gave you as she spoke, “You just said you want to make her feel bad.”

“I know, and I do, but not like ruin her life. I just want her to hurt like I do, Abby.”

Abby wanted to be mad at you. She wanted you to know how bad you were hurting her. She wanted you to know how much she loved you. She was feeling exactly like you did, only her hurt and confusion were focused on you, while yours was on Nora.

It was silent in the room as she worked through her thoughts. She was beginning to understand how you felt. She understood your heartbreak, as she was feeling it too.

“I don’t know, y/n,” she was the one sighing in defeat, “maybe just sleep it off? This isn’t the first time you guys have fought. She always makes it up to you.” She laid back into her bed, staring at the ceiling. Her emotions were always written across her face and she did not you to be able to read her.

You huffed out one last sigh, kicking your drawer closed. “You’re right. I don’t know why I get so worked up.” You straightened yourself out, making your way to the door. “Thanks for talking this out with me, Abs. I feel a lot better.”

She mumbled out a, “Yeah, anytime,” as you walked out the door. 

#i wrote this while watching the episode of cm where haley d*es so sorry if its bad #abby anderson imagine #abby anderson x reader #abby anderson #abby tlou #abby the last of us #abby x reader #abby anderson x you #abby anderson angst #abby anderson x y/n #abby anderson x female reader #tlou x you #tlou blurb #tlou x reader #tlou imagine #tlou angst #pandemic prose

[duchess-kyuupid]

Twst Men and How to Fluster Them

How should one go about teasing their love to get that desirable shade of red on their faces?

[GN! Reader / Suggestive, but SFW] *All of these are pre-relationship and you trying to flirt with him*

~~Savanahclaw Edition~~

[Ft. Leona, Ruggie, and Jack]

Leona - When you steal all of his favorite sleeping spots - The first time today that Leona saw you sleeping peacefully in his spot in the botanical gardens, he thought nothing of it. Actually, he might've been a little bit annoyed. You knew that that was his go-to spot, and there's only so many people out there who knows about it! Probably just you and Ruggie, actually. - As annoyed as he was though, he was still too lazy to bother trying to wake you up. You'd never hear him admit it out loud, but he thought you looked rather cute, all tranquil-like and sleeping like you didn't have a care in the world. - So cute in fact, he didn't want to bother trying to wake you up. Instead, he just rolls his eyes and decide on the next best thing- his super secret special spot on the roof of the school. It's not as comfortable as he'd like, but the roof shingles keep him warm and the wind's got a nice breeze today. A nice spot to kick back, get some sleep, and relax while he waits out the rest of the school day. - Well, that was his plan until he found you, again, in his spot- on the roof. How the hell did you even get up here, before him even?? - And you were already fast asleep too! And if he didn't already see you asleep back in the botanical gardens, he would have thought you've been here the whole time! - Well, no matter, as annoying as it is that he's climbed all this way just to find that his spot has been taken, again, he grumbles and walks away to his next spot- one where he's 100% sure that you won't be. - Why didn't he just plop down right next to you, you ask? Why, it's because you've taken the exact spot that he sits in. And you'd be wrong to assume that he'd accept anything less than the best- at least when it comes to his sleeping spots at least. And he's got his pride to think about, too! He's not just going to let some herbivore force him into submitting his favorite spots. If you want that one, fine, he's got other, better places to go anyway. - It's definitely not the fact that his heart starts hammering in his chest at the thought of something so intimate, so vulnerable, as sleeping next to you. He subconsciously knows that in that sort of situation, he probably wouldn't get very much sleep out of it anyway- he'd just be too focused on keeping you safe while you're sound asleep. (But if you're sleeping in a spot where he's not around, then that's your fault for leaving yourself so vulnerable. Not his fault that you're so naïve, so gullible, so sweet, and charming and adorable and- - Ahem. - In any case, Leona's absolutely sure that you wouldn't even dare to come to his dorm room without his permission. He knows this fact without even a shadow of a doubt. - Absolute confidence in this-- until he sees you there, on his bed, tucked in and sound asleep. - At this point, he's beyond just being grumpy about losing his spot. He's flustered to the point of speechlessness. At this point, you've won. He gives up. He doesn't even care about how you keep getting here faster than he does, hell he doesn't even care about the fact that you've basically trespassed in his domain (because in all honesty, you're welcome to come and go as you please, even if he doesn't explicitly say so). - So, he begrudgingly concedes with a dust of pink on his face, and with a tired sigh he flops down next to you on his bed. If you were brave enough to fall asleep in a lion's den, then you shouldn't be surprised to find that lion snuggling up right next to you when you wake up. Oh, but do expect to be interrogated about your actions when the two of you do wake up. - For now though, he supposes that it's not so bad to have someone to share his sleeping spots with.

Ruggie - When you surprise him with food - Ruggie is well-known for being rather mischievous when the time calls for it. And there's only one thing that you can think of that could possibly tame him. - And that one thing is food. So you decide to make lots of it, for him. Some of it you do end up buying, both to save yourself some extra work and because you wholeheartedly believe that store-bought can be better than some of your homemade stuff. But you figured that he'd at least appreciate the effort that you've gone through to prepare this feast for him to begin with. - What's the occasion, you ask? Because Grim was hungry of course. - Well, he's always hungry. But you talked with him and he agreed to be your wingman just this once, but only if he gets some of the food too, it is a feast after all! (To be honest, Grim doesn't really understand your taste in men- he's still upset about the loss of his grilled cheese from last time. But he supports his henchman nevertheless but only because there's food involved.) - So you invited Ruggie over to your little makeshift 'party' at the Ramshackle dorm, making sure to invite just a few other of your friends to make sure that the little 'party' seemed at least persuasive enough to get Ruggie to lower his guard. - We all know that this man is an absolute rascal when it comes to food. And you plan on taking full advantage of this fact. But he's a hyena- a wild one at that, so it's not a very common sight to see Ruggie lower his guard around people, even if it did seem on the outside that he was easy-going and carefree. - So the day of your party arrives, and to be honest you're quite exhausted from all of the cooking you've been doing. But it would be all worth it if your plan manages to work. - Of course, Grim got first dibs on whatever food he wanted- it was part of your deal with him and there was plenty to go around anyway. And Ruggie sat somewhere in the back, eyeing everything up. - To be fair, Ruggie had some suspicions when you first invited him over to Ramshackle dorm for a feast, and the fact that you explained that it was only because Grim was hungry and wanted a party. He became even more suspicious when you specified that Leona wasn't coming, so he could grab whatever food he wanted for himself (your real thought process was that you didn't want Leona dragging your future boyfriend everywhere for random chores when you're trying to flirt with him, but of course Ruggie's a little too dense to realize this). - 'Well', he thought, 'I've never been one to turn down free food.' And so here he is, unknowingly falling right into your trap from the moment that he stepped through the door. - "Psst, Ruggie, come here a second," you call over from across the hall, away from the party, "there's something that I want to show you." - And you lead him to a separate room, and you at least feel happy that he didn't ask very many questions as lead him through the halls of the decrepit Ramshackle house. - You stop at your destination and dramatically open the door to showcase a hidden stash of donuts, set aside specifically for Ruggie. He looks at you in surprise at this, at the absurd amount of donuts of varying sizes and flavors in front of him. - "So I know that if Grim saw these before the day of the party, they would have been gone within a second, so I hid these away so that you can get your favorites. Some of these I did make myself, but then I figured that they probably don't really taste as good as store bought anyway, so there are some normal ones here too!" you explained with a proud smile. (Of course, you had many, many failed attempts when you were first attempting to make some of these, but we don't talk about those.) - There was only one teensy little catch though. These donuts were in all sorts of different flavors, shapes, and sizes, but only because you had arranged them to spell out the words 'DATE ME.' - How could he say no to that? And the red on his face brought even tomatoes to shame.

Jack - When you show him your sincerity - Jack is a simple man. He likes things being straightforward. He doesn't like to assume things when they aren't being explicitly said to him. - Unfortunately for him, you are not as straightforward. In fact, you find a sadistic type of joy in teasing him when he's least expecting it, and he falls for it every single time. - Just like right now, when you've caught him just finishing up his morning workout. It was the perfect opportunity to start teasing him, after all it's always a pleasure to see him when he looks as fine as he does, especially after he's done working out. - "Hey, Jack! You feeling tired?" you start with a friendly wave and an offer of a bottle of water. He thanks you with a relieved smile and starts to drink the water and he was just about to deny your statement- in fact he was feeling pumped for the rest of the day now- but you continued, "Because you've been running laps around my mind all morning." - He coughed on his water at your blunt statement, and he was still reeling from the emotional impact when you continued, - "Your muscles are looking pretty heavy there, mind if I hold them for you?" - Okay, he realizes, you're just messing with him now. He laughs at your joke with a slight tinge of pink on his face. He should be used to this by now, you do this all the time! - "First one I'd rate it as a 6/10, but the second one was terrible- 2/10," he chuckles as he gives you a rating on your pick-up lines. To be honest, you caught him completely off guard with your first statement and he thought for a second there that you had actually meant it (you do). But this is the normal for the both of you now, you 'flirt' with him playfully and he'd rate how well you did. The one terrible thing about this arrangement is that he just never knows if you're being serious with your pick-up lines (you are). - So even though you're basically just spelling it out for him every single day, he still somehow convinces himself that you were just joking, that you weren't actually being sincere with him, and it's been driving you absolutely mad! - How can he not see how obviously down-bad you were for him? Is it not apparent enough with all of your longing stares, your flirty pick-up lines, hell, even the way that your eyes are always looking for him when you walk into a room, or the way that he's always the first person you go to during an event?! He's the only one you do this kind of thing for! - No matter. As stated before, Jack is a simple man. And you will be incredibly gracious and patient with him. As long as it takes, you hope that Jack will come to realize your true feelings in due time. But a part of you wishes that you could just blurt it out already, lay it all out on the table so that there was no way that he could misinterpret it, because Jack is simple, almost as simple as the words, - "I love you." - Jack pauses stiffly, his ears and tail standing tall in alarm, and he turns his head to look at you with wide eyes, only to meet your own staring right back at him with nothing but love and adoration swimming inside of them. They glimmered and shone in a way that he's never noticed before, and his gut instincts are screaming at him that you were actually being sincere when you said that. - His mind is reeling, and the cogs in his brain are basically forced to a halt as he processes this 'new' information that he's received. - And after an awkward few minutes of the both of you just staring at each other (mostly because you really didn't mean to say that out loud, but when you did you thought that you'd at least see what his reaction would be), Jack comes back to reality with a cough as he tries to hide his face. He turns so that his back is facing you so that you didn't see his embarrassment, but he absentmindedly forgot how obvious he actually is- because his tail was wagging furiously in a way that betrays how he wanted to showcase himself. - "Well," he says, trying to keep his voice steady (and failing), "I guess we should start dating then?"

~~~~~~~~~~

Thank you to everyone who's enjoying my work thus far! I'm finally finished with Savanaclaw, and I had a great time writing for these characters :D Next dorm is Octavinelle, everyone's favorite fish mafia, featuring my personal favorite of the bunch, Azul <33

#leona #leona twst #leona kingscholar #leona x reader #gn reader #leona kingscholar x reader #ruggie #ruggie x reader #ruggie bucchi #ruggie bucchi x reader #jack #jack x reader #jack twst #ruggie twst #jack howl #jack howl x reader #savanaclaw #twisted wonderland #disney twisted wonderland #x reader #duchess kyuupid #twst x reader #twst headcanons #twst imagines #twst #twisted wonderland x reader

[futbol16]

Like Ale ・ Alexia Putellas

Based on this request, hope you'll like it!

Request: "can you write one for Alexia? Reader and Alexia used to be Barcas force with Ale being a middy and reader being a forward. Reader has always been a free spirit on the field. Pulling tricks, tackling and doing insanly fast sprints. So before Alexias injury they would always lead Barca to a win if they were on the pitch together. Now that Alexia is out with her ACL Reader has to carry Barca to a win on her own. Not only that but being just as famous and great play footballer as Alexia, the management puts the reader up for Tons of Media duty. Revolving in stressed reader trying to live up to everyones expections."

Word count: 1,9k

La Reina y La Pistola, that is the name the fans of the football world have given the two of you. You and Alexia live and breathe Barca, your loyalty to the club obvious to those around you, especially yours as you had grown up in La Maisa. 

Your chemistry with la Reina on the pitch is what more often than not led your team to a win. The two of you were a force to recon with. Alexia being the midfielder, setting the pace of the game, keeping possession of the ball and assisting goals, and you being the forward who received those assists and sent them to the back of the net.

 Although you did a pretty good job at shooting on goal, your goal ratio being a solid 0.76 goal per game, you also were known as a free spirit on the field. Switching up the usual role of a forward and showing off your ball control skills, sometimes attempting a tackle and your explosive speed, hence the nickname La Pistola. 

However with your partner in crime being out due to injury, you had taken on the role of being the team’s captain. But your connection with the brunette wasn’t only for the pitch, she was your main confidant and you were hers. 

Your team’s main focus was to win everything and anything there was to win, but with being a popular professional athlete came the importance of media duties. You were often called in for interviews or media day videos as a co-captain but also because of your fluency in English, something that allowed the Barca tv to reach more than just the Spanish Culers. 

That is where you were right now as well, sat in front of cameras with Ingrid next to you. Media days could be fun and you were glad today was one of those instead of a draining one, you were still tired from the promotion you had to shoot the other day with one of Barcelona’s sponsors. 

Right now though you let yourself relax as you joked back and forth with the Norwegian, enjoying yourselves. The two of you were currently being shown edits made by fans, this one about Ingrid and Mapi’s relationship. 

“Aww, she’s blushing!” you exclaimed as you squished one of her cheeks, laughing as she swatted your hands away.

“Just wait until we get to yours!” Soon you were shown another video, this one indeed being about you and you groaned aloud. You were sure it would yet again be a video of you falling over stray balls in training.

“Oh Y/N you’re gonna want to see this one.” Ingrid smacked at your shoulder and you leaned over as the video started playing again.

You know you wanna be fast like Mbappe,

You know, shoot like Ronaldo,

Pass like Messi, be dominant like Zlatan.

But man, I wanted to be like Y/N L/N.

You watched the video with a surprised look, you would have never thought people would compare you to some of the best in the sport. It filled you with immense pride, but at the same time you suddenly had an uneasy feeling.

Are you really that good? Or are they just saying it because Alexia can’t play right now? Was your football good enough?

You couldn’t let those thoughts eat away at you though, not like you really had time for your own thoughts anyways.

Between being busy getting the team ready for the champions league qualifications and friendlies while also having to worry about Jorge and the Spanish national team, you barely had the energy to change into pajamas at the end of the day. 

You were exhausted to say the least, but it seemed to be paying off. The girls were on fire and the new additions on the team seemed to be settling in well as well. As captain, it was your job to help them adjust to everything so you had mandatory team bonding every Friday night.

It helped the girls unwind from the stress of the week while also having fun in each other’s company. You loved it, you truly did because you wanted nothing but the best for this team. But it was becoming incredibly difficult to show up to these team bondings with the busy schedule you seemed to have.

ElClásico was just as important in the women’s game as in the men’s and the team was hyped as they made their way onto the field,with you at the very beginning of the line.

Barca was immediately off to a wonderful start with Ana scoring a goal not even five minutes into the game and you soon sent your own shot into the back of the net in the 27th minute.

Living up to your nickname your celebration was you imitating a pistol and shooting it at Misa before jumping into Irene's open arms.

The game ended with a 4-0 win for Barca and for a second you stood with the rest of the team, ecstatic over the victory until you made eye contact with the Real goalkeeper. 

Was 4 goals enough? You surely could’ve sent at least one more goal in there. You should have tried harder to have your name twice on the scoreboard.

Although these heavy thoughts were clouding your mind, you forced a big smile on your face as Alexia, Jana and a few of the others celebrated with you all.

It didn’t take long for the team to notice the way you were distancing yourself, pushing them away unless you were at training.

You weren’t taking your duties as a captain lightly, but with the amount of media appearances you’ve been having, you simply couldn’t take more human interaction than necessary. 

Making her way out of the locker room, Mapi stood at the entrance of the field as she watched you shoot ball after ball into the net from the penalty box and the halfline.

It was at least 40 minutes after training but you didn't seem to care, you probably didn’t even notice your friend watching you with a worried expression. She sighed before turning to go home knowing that she wouldn’t be able to convince you to follow and rest as well.

She needed to figure out a way to get to you.

Walking into the locker room the next day you stilled in your step as you were met with the whole team sitting there already.

Were you late? You couldn’t be late as captain of the team. 

Glancing at your phone, your face scrunched up in confusion. 

“Training doesn’t start for a good half hour.” Frido spoke up as if reading your thoughts.

“Yes, but we have something we need to talk about.” Claudia added as she looked up at you and you moved over to the girl, placing a hand on her shoulder. You were worried she might have picked up a small injury with how much she had been tackled at the game against real madrid.

“We’re worried about you, Y/N. You’re clearly overworking yourself and you also look like you haven’t slept in days.” Okay, that was not what you were expecting.

“First of all, thank you Patri, I appreciate the compliment. Second of all, I’m fine and there’s nothing to worry about.” you started as you moved over to your own spot, putting your stuff down and changing into your training gear. 

For a second the whole locker room was silent as they watched you before it erupted in chaos as everyone voiced their concerns regarding you.

“You’re doing extra training AFTER your extra training!”

“You haven’t been to team bonding in the last two weeks!”

“You’ve canceled any plans we’ve tried to make with you!”

“You closed yourself off, you’re not letting any of us in and we just want to help you.”

The last sentence was spoken so softly that you couldn’t hold the tears back anymore, the exhaustion forcing your emotions out. 

The Barca shirt is still clutched in your hand as your shoulders slump forward before you let yourself fall into your seat, holding your head in your hands.

The girls watch the scene unfolding in front of them, they didn’t know if you’d let them close.

The second a tear rolls down your cheek though, Irene and Mapi are beside you, your best friend and mentor pulling you into their bodies.

They hold you tight as you cry, Claudia and Patri also making their way over as they try to be physically close to you and soon the whole team joins the group hug.

“I’m sorry girls, I’m sorry it’s just everything is overwhelming right now. Everything that Ale and I had to do together, I now have to do alone and it’s so so tiring, I’m so tired.” you admit, burying your head into the crook of someone’s neck.

God, you missed them and you missed their hugs. You’ve been missing out on all of the affection with how busy you’ve been.

“But why not let us help you? Why are you driving yourself to the limits?” Ingrid questions.

“It seemed easier to just do it on my own. I was scared that the fans would think I’m not working hard enough and I didn’t want to let you guys down, I wanted to be the best captain, like Ale.”

Suddenly a throat is cleared from behind all of you and you look towards the entrance of the changing room where Alexia has been standing, unbeknownst to you all she has listened to everything that has been said.

She makes her way over to you and the group seems to part as they let her through before she’s standing right in front of you, reaching to cup your cheeks and wiping away at the remaining of your tears.

“You’re doing better than I ever could have Y/N. The team is striving, you haven’t lost a single match yet and you’re holding up perfectly without me out there on the pitch with you! You have nothing to worry about.” she assures you, and you swallow hard.

“But I miss you there.” it comes out as a whisper and the team has to stop themselves from cooing at the admission and the obvious heart eyes with which you were staring up at Alexia.

“I know bébé, I miss you guys too, I miss you too. But you all are doing better than ever and your hard work is showing on the pitch.” she says to the team, though still not letting go of your face.

She turns back to you, gently placing her forehead on yours and your eyes flutter shut at having her close again. “And I’m so incredibly proud of you mi amor.” she tells you and before you could answer, you feel soft lips on your own and you pull her closer to you.

The kiss is probably more passionate than necessary, especially with your teammates watching, but the girls cheer loudly for the two of you. You pull away with a smile resting on your face, Alexia beaming down at you.

Being captain was exhausting and it would be like that for a while until Alexia could come back and the two of you would share the stress of the media, but you wouldn’t change it for the world if it meant being a part of this team and having the girls by your side.

#alexia putellas x reader #alexia putellas imagine #woso imagine #woso x reader #futbol16

[bucoliqves]

13 years after the events of the book ivan is a somewhat famous journalist, probably due to some controversies. he's rushing off home after a dull work of editing.

he's been feeling overall depressed in the past few weeks. he's trying to write down the great inquisitor once and for all, but deep down he's concerned about the critics and his own skills. mitya and grushenka are nowhere to be found, alyosha is up in the mountains teaching little kids the abc. he's got no friendly faces in moscow.

he sighs and takes a turn, when all of a sudden he bumps into someone coming from the opposite direction. he ends up on the ground. the first thing he notices are flowers - yellow flowers scattered on the ground. then an all-too-familiar scent of milk and honey. the stranger apologises, lands out a hand, and before his eyes look up his heart has recognised her.

her face seems more tired, a few silver strands peek through her hair, but her charm hasn't left her. katerina is still as beautiful as the day he'd left her. screw the articles, he thinks, and in a matter of seconds he's invited her for a drink.

they catch up, talk about family business and reminiscence the past. she's married. they've been trying for a child but no use. he's all by himself in a big apartment on the sadovaya. seldomely gets visits, never from the people he'd like to see. some things are just meant to be this way.

she's read one of his articles. two, actually. maybe three. perhaps a bit more. there's even a possibility she's cut them out and kept them at the bottom of a drawer next to her bed.

well, if she knew he was in town all along, why didn't she drop by to say hi? they hadn't left on good terms. to be honest, their last goodbye was pretty cold - almost indifferent. she thought reaching out for a stranger was not right. and quite frankly, she was still way too prideful to make the first move, though she never would've admitted it. they were older now. one would expect them to be wiser too.

how about they try again?, he proposes. two seconds later he's already regretting it, but he decides to blame it on the alcohol he's barely touched. she seems hesitant, so he promises to show her a secret project he's been working on as a proof of their renowned friendship.

he leads her to his apartment and she's the second witness ever of his cursed poem. she reads the first page and he's sweating like a sinner in church. she makes herself at home and sits down on the divan, completely immersed. at page five she stops. could he read it out loud for her? it'd be much more impactful. matter of fact, why doesn’t he turn this into a play?

ivan doesn't answer, just complies. she's back with her tortures, but he can't understand why. when he's done he's almost afraid of looking back at her. she's staring at him in awe. she's always known he was one mess of a genius. to think that she'd always despised chaos... what exactly did he do to her?

he should turn it into a play, that's her final statement. a wonderful play with splendid costumes and the best actors of moscow. she can help with the money. she can even help with the editing. it feels good to help, to see right through and not to look away - and this time it's not martyrdom, no. it's something more genuine to inspire her. it's almost love.

#KATERIVAN FANFIC DRAFT I PULLED OUT OF MY ASS AT MIDNIGHT OUT OF SHEER DESPERATION #all for you #ruslit #tbk #the brothers karamazov #dostoevksy #russian literature #ivan karamazov #katerina ivanovna verkhovtseva

[gingerylangylang1979]

The Timeliness of Carmy’s Appeal

I think it’s really interesting that this character has transfixed so many of us. The television landscape is so saturated. There are tons of hot men doing hot things streaming across America but this man broke through as a unique sex symbol at a distinct time. We have been through three years of a pandemic, social justice movements, January 6th, hyper politicization, and hyperpolarization. We are in a new age of audacious grift (think Anna Delvey, Elizabeth Holmes, George Santos, Sam Bankman-Fried), Chat GPT, the faux-reality of social media and reality tv, unidentified flying objects, and the potential for WWIII with high nuclear probability.  

While shows focused on the rich and infamous will always attract mega attention (think The White Lotus and Succession) I think The Bear stood out because it’s about normal people trying to survive, trying to thrive, trying to keep their sanity, trying to have pride in what they do. After everything most of us have been through, many just find a hollowness in caring about the one percent. I personally am not as into shows and movies about insanely wealthy people, or even super comfortable middle class people, navel gazing and being wretched anymore. I used to love the escapism of watching the magnificent splendor of indulgence but now I just want gritty and raw realism from characters I can relate to, from characters I could be, from characters I could meet in real life, from characters I could mundanely order a sandwich from. 

And along with that is the idea that what I find most attractive in a man right now is not prim and polished. I’m tired of gazing at men that fit the model type, I’m tired of men from the pajama class. I want someone who came from the bottom and worked their way up but didn’t land behind a computer. I’m tired of men who hide and are terrified of danger. I’m tired of men who look untouched and unbothered. I want someone I can tell my fucked up life story to and he gets it because he has the same. But he’s not the typical bad boy roughneck boy next door. He’s not a bully, he’s not a sadist. He doesn’t get into trouble just to get into it. There’s something in his core that just wants to be good. He isn’t the “sexually competent dirt bag”. He’s a gentle soul caught up in epic drama and fighting to get to “normal”.

I think many of us are tired of too soft and too hard. Carmy is just right. Yes, there is the physical hotness, the way he moves, the fluctuations of his voice, his craftsmanship, his style… but I think at the heart of it is that he hits a deeply emotional pitch that is genuine and not precious. He just feels right in our present moment for anybody not wanting a fake fantasy of a perfect man. Most of us are broken. So expecting some prince charming is not where it’s at. 

Edited to add: This man will scrub a floor on his knees. Not because he has to, because he wants to and isn’t afraid to get dirty. A toilet explodes on him and he’s like, OK, NEXT, gotta pay the bills, keep it movin. That’s it. 

#the bear fx #the bear hulu #carmy berzatto #jeremy allen white

[justanotherarmyfangirl]

Dark&Wild (4) When You Realized No One Was Coming To Save You

You are an interpreter for international idols, but you soon realized their lavish lifestyle came at a cost, and somehow you became the price. The man who came to collect had a special kind of vendetta, and you, so foolishly, sparked his interest.

Sorry for the delay, I was on my last edit and literally that night I tested positive for C0VlD :') but I'm back now and feeling a lot better

yandere loan shark!Yoongi x blind!reader x bodyguard!Jungkook x idol singer!Jimin x idol rapper!Namjoon x idol singer!Taehyung x detective!Hoseok x detective!Seokjin

TW: 18+ only, violence, guns, hostage, dubcon/noncon, reader manipulation, mind break, drugging, blowjob, reader is blinded before events that take place in the story, Jimin is an addict, Yoongi is a sadist

---

Namjoon laid sprawled out on his bed, a pen twirling between his fingers, as you listened to his unfinished songs. He was always impressed at how you could pick up even the slightest changes in the melody. Tonight was no different, Joon was working on a couple of different beats, rapping over the high and punchy part of the melody, his deep voice acting as such a unique contrast. He’s repeated the same bars so many times, you start to whisper the last word of each bar with him.

“Cute.”

“Hmm?”

“Last show is tomorrow,” he grunts, scribbling lyrics down in his notebook.

You hum, “What’s wrong? You don’t sound happy about it.”

“You know how everyone is so excited for tour to end, but I...” he pauses, “can’t help but start feeling sentimental. This show could be our last…ever.”

“Hmm, yeah, but I doubt it,” you laugh, “If that song is going to be your next release, you’re going to have another amazing tour to look forward to.”

“Thanks,” Namjoon hesitates. “You’re not just saying that to make me feel better?” he asks accusingly.

You snort, “Nah. Whatever makes people stars, you’ve always had it. You’re that good, Joon,” you smile. 

Namjoon closes his laptop, taking a seat next to you on his couch instead. He stretches out, arm lying over you. You lean into each other, not for anything other than comfort. It’s late, and you both should be tired, but jitters were always too high the night before a concert, and as neither of you liked using pharmaceutical or even herbal means to find respite, you relaxed with each other. 

His finger ticks and touches your cheek, staying, arm pulling you in. “You’re being sweet,” Namjoon says, not fully convinced, “Jimin finally confess his undying feelings for you?”

You laugh, “Yeah right.” Jimin is probably holed up with a groupie as you speak. “I guess I am just feeling sentimental.” You tease, cuddling into his side. 

Namjoon hums the melody in his head, fingers tapping on his cell, working through more lyrics. Having your warmth by his side relaxed him enough to work through the complicated rhyme schemes even on nights likes these. He would never admit it, but you were his muse.

“If that next tour does happen, I think…I’ll finally have enough,” you whisper, hopeful. Your quiet elation does not go unnoticed by Joon.

“I could write you a check for what you’re missing tonight, if you would just let me-”

“I want to earn the money on my own.”

“I want to earn the money on my own,” Joon teases at the same time, repeating the line you always say when he offers. You hit him playfully. “I know, but you’re so close! And then you’ll finally be able to see us perform!” Namjoon gets excited for you at the thought.

You laugh, leaning your chin on his chest. You wish you could see his face when you look up. “I would love that. But you also know I can’t do that.”

Namjoon sighs, you were too prideful of a woman. He couldn’t help but be enamored, it was one attribute in long list of things about you that annoyed him and made him admire you. But Namjoon had some tricks up his sleeves, you deserved a couple of “bonuses,” especially after such a successful tour, and especially because Namjoon couldn’t live with himself if he didn’t use some of his newly acquired wealth at his disposal to help out a friend.

That is where your memory of that night ends, you fell asleep against him, lulled by his soft humming, feeling safe in his arms. But your dream kept going…

“Once you get your sight back, what did you want to see first?” Namjoon asks.

You think. “I want to call my little sister, see what she looks like now,” you smile sadly.

“It will happen,” Namjoon holds you tighter. You nod.

“Is it conceited that I want to see what I look like now too?” you laugh into his embrace. “Actually see how my makeup looks like…see how bad I’ve been doing it all these years,” you giggle.

“No. Y/n...you’re beautiful.”

You laugh again, softer this time in disbelief. “Okay, now you are trying to make me feel better.”

His other hand moves from the couch to your thigh, surprising you. Namjoon shifts himself against you, head moving closer until you feel something soft against your lips-

You flinch, awake.

Yoongi’s hand pulls away from your mouth. “Good morning, little mouse.”

Sixty-three meals you’ve eaten alone in this room.

That meant it was twenty-one days without anyone to talk to, without sunlight, without a proper bath...

“Mr. Min?”

WHEN YOU REALIZED NO ONE WAS COMING TO SAVE YOU

“He says he’s honored that you came on short notice, Thailand welcomes you.” 

‘Who is this man who thinks he speaks for an entire country?’ you think, already annoyed. No matter how upset you are, you are a professional. You keep the emotion out of your voice, translating exactly what was being said.

Yoongi grunts, walking with you loosely holding his elbow. “You’re not going to say anything back?” 

You’re met with silence. 

‘Ugh,’ you suppress the urge to roll your eyes. Translating for Yoongi was worlds apart from the charismatic idols. 

‘Whatever,’ this is not a broadcast appearance, you didn’t have to impress anyone, especially not Mr. Min and his accomplices. 

You listen to the stranger speak about the expansion of his establishments, how grateful he is for Yoongi’s loan, and his plans to open more locations across Thailand. You translate with minimum enthusiasm, quite the contrast to this stranger’s cloying excitement. 

“Each new location will meet your requirements for trade,” you say in a monotone voice, ready to get this over with.

You walk through another room and are immediately assaulted with the thick smell of smoke, you grip his arm tighter. “And the border issues?” Yoongi asks.

“It’s been taken care of. You have the support of-” you swallow, stuttering while translating the man’s words, “-the Prime Minister.”

You hear the scrape of chairs and Yoongi abandons you, pulling out his own chair and taking a seat. You reach out for him until your fingers graze the familiar material of his jacket, holding onto his shoulder. His hand lands on top of yours squeezing in Morse code. Not only does his hand never leave yours, he interlaces your digits together. 

You hear glass clinking together, the pour of alcohol while the men drink. “A few of my men will stay here to make sure the operation goes smoothly during our transition.”

“Jeon?”

“Just translate, girl.”

Even if you were angry, hated him, wanted to grab whatever bottle was on the table and smash it across Yoongi’s head, you were always the professional. You repeat his words in Thai, waiting for the man’s response.

“He says of course, great idea,” you resist the urge to roll your eyes. “I have to go to the bathroom.”

“Hold it.”

“I can’t-”

“You will regret it if you don’t shut up and just translate.”

The man looks between the both of you exchanging tense words, noticing Yoongi’s growing annoyance. “Is um everything okay?” he asks in Thai. “I have to go to the bathroom,” you answer him in Thai.

“What did you just tell him,” Yoongi’s tone changes only slightly, but enough for you to know he’s furious with you.

“Oh! Yes, my men can escort you there,” he stands up, snapping his fingers to hurry his men to move. Yoongi’s fingers tighten around your own.

“He says his men can take me to the bathroom,” you translate, feeling triumphant. Just get away from him, if there is even a one percent chance of escape, take it, y/n! C’mon, Yoongi should have known, really, that you would never go along with his plans…

Yoongi has a choice to make and very little time. He could tell Jungkook to go with you, one of the few men Yoongi trusted would be able to handle you without causing a commotion, but Jungkook was also one of the few men Yoongi trusted with his life, Yoongi needs him by his side. 

Yoongi’s paranoia, which only grew stronger and vindicated the more powerful he became, was not going to let his most loyal man follow after a belligerent blind girl. 

And Yoongi’s reputation is on the line. If he loses his temper and starts fighting with you how would that look? Yoongi has to tread lightly, he has to remain in charge.

He looks over to Choi, a young and ambitious recruit looking to prove himself to the man in charge. All Yoongi has to do is tilt his head and the man rushes towards your side along with a hesitant bar employee. 

This establishment was not only a popular tourist bar but provided an ideal cover for moving money in and out of the country, a way for some notable politicians to embezzle their finances into offshore accounts controlled by Yoongi’s company. If you had the connections like Yoongi, it all became a pretty efficient operation.

Yoongi was building an empire and a little blind mouse wasn’t going to scurry her way in the middle of it and scare away the elephants in the room.

“You have five minutes.”

You will regret this.

---

“What’s this place called?” you ask in Thai.

“Moonlight Blue.”

You feel something sharp against your side and a man speaking in Korean to keep quiet and keep moving. The bartender brings you to the bathroom, wearily offering you instructions, surprised when Yoongi’s man follows you inside. He could only assume they were being overprotective of you because you were a woman.

“Can I not get any privacy at all?” you hiss.

“Don’t act like you aren’t up to something.”

“What am I going to do, huh?” you wave your hands dramatically in front of your face.

You hear the cock of a gun. You’ve lost count at how many times you’ve heard it since being taken. “Use the bathroom or I will shoot a hole in your head.”

“Shoot me,” you reply, knowing him killing you would go directly against what Mr. Min wanted. “You think I want to be here translating? Do it, please, I rather die than have to deal with men like you-”

You’re pushed backward, hitting wall and porcelain. You try to reorient yourself too late, crashing onto the ground, and before you can stand back on your feet, Choi is doing it for you, hitting you hard in the stomach so you double forward, with another hard jab against your cheek.

You inhale sharply, your lungs burning as you suck in air. You must be in a one of the stalls, the way the walls feel like they are closing in on you, the way Yoongi’s man shoves you into a corner, his hand squeezing your wind pipe.

He lets go, stepping away to close the stall door on you as you gather your bearings, coughing out blood. 

“There’s your privacy, Princess.”

You take a shaky step backwards, sitting on the toilet, trying to think, trying not to cry. 

As you unzipped your pants, wincing as you touch your stomach, you ask yourself once again, how are you going to get away now? 

And you have no answers...

...but you do know the words for taken and person and help in Thai.

...and there was blood dripping from your lip.

You open the door, holding onto the handle for support, covering your name and those three words behind your back.

---

“Is she okay?”

-

You were part of the entourage that moved with JTJ through airports, you remember the dangerous trek through the public to your cars. During their rise to fame and before the company had created a solid security protocol, you would experience what it was like to be overrun by zealous fans, the way they would push and shove you to get to the idols. It’s bad enough for everyone to try to navigate with lights flashing in their faces, but you, walking through unknown and unseen territory, all your other senses overwhelmed by screaming and pulling and shoving, it was terrifying. 

The worst that has ever happened to you while working was pulled hair, the uncomfortable feeling of being pressed together like sardines, tripping and shoes crushing your fingers.

The first time it ever happened to you, you went through a full blown panic attack. But back then, you had Namjoon who gave you some water, let you curl up on the floor of their van, rubbed your back and told you to breathe. He apologized for his own fans, told you not to worry, that they’ve all experienced the overwhelming anxiety that comes with stardom. That was the worst thing that’s ever happened to you on the job until-

-

“I tripped, my apologies,” you speak in Thai, pulling your bottom lip into your mouth and licking off the blood from the cut where Choi’s knuckles hit.

You stood behind Yoongi again, translating in Korean what was asked and your response to Yoongi.

-

After about the fifth interview in a long shooting day with JTJ, you would start to run on autopilot. Translating took all your energy, and if you didn’t solely focus on each word, you would easily get lost. It happened once during a television interview...

You turned your head to the spot where Namjoon sat beside you and started talking in Tagalog instead of Korean. Due to the hosts and the idols speaking a mixture of English, Korean, and Tagalog, you were interpreting all three and made a silly mistake. You played it off with an apologetic giggle and head scratch and the audience laughed, the idols made fun of you, and you corrected yourself promptly. It became a cute viral moment, and that was that. 

You got better at quick translations, it became easier to detach yourself and become like a machine, a well oiled part in the cogs that helped push the idols toward successful endeavor after successful endeavor. You knew how to ‘turn’ yourself off and on when you needed to-

-

“Eighteen mil baht projected,” you repeat in Korean.

“It should triple easily once the other locations are operational.” Yoongi responds and you repeat the phrase in Thai.

You try not to wince as you shift your weight, coughing to hide the pain. You hear happy murmurs, the man rattles on shameless compliments which you translate, remaining stoic, keeping your emotions off, on autopilot. You’ll worry about escape later, right now, you just wish to leave this situation, feeling as suffocated as you were in those crowds, as scared.

---

There is still a metallic taste in your mouth and a throbbing sensation at your temple as you find an empty seat in Yoongi’s plane.

The plane is still escalating when someone unbuckles your seatbelt, pulling you gently to your feet. You can’t help but grimace in pain. It must be the cabin pressure, sitting for so long and having to stretch your muscles as you stand again, you wobble as you’re pulled to the back of the plane.

Jungkook helps you sit down, and when you’re finally settled, you shove his hands away, pushing him in the chest away from you, tired of being manhandled everywhere you go.

Jungkook stumbles back, his eyes going wide, disbelief and anger flashing through his otherwise collected features as he looks to you and then his boss. Yoongi clenches his teeth, holding up his hand for Jungkook to just let it go for now. 

You hug your body reflexively, waiting.

“How did you get that cut on your lip?” Yoongi’s deep voice asks.

“I tripped,” you say, repeating what you said before.

Of course Yoongi knows you’re lying. Choi had told him everything without hesitation. He will deal with him for touching you without Yoongi’s permission, just like how he’ll deal with you for trying to challenge him during a deal. But why are you lying?

“Why are you protecting someone who hurt you-”

“I’m not protecting him,” you huff. You just did not want any attention being brought to that bathroom, at least not until someone can find your message, and hopefully contact the authorities. “What do you want me to say?”

Yoongi catches himself before he starts screaming. “You are a good translator, the deal went smoothly, you’re lucky.”

“Great,” you say mockingly.

There it is, Yoongi thinks. “Things would go so much better for you if you would just listen to me.”

You stay stubbornly quiet. Yoongi sighs, “Is that so hard?”

“Yes,” you grit out.

Yoongi steps in front of you, standing over you. His hand cups your jaw, tilting your head upward, studying your bruised face. “Choi shouldn’t have touched you without my permission.”

You stay quiet, wincing when his thumb goes over the cut on your lip.

“You belong to me, y/n. Every drop of blood in your body. Every drop.” The way he whispers his last words sends a chill down your spine. Did he…

Did he know?! “You should rest, we’ll be in Korea soon.”

---

Shoes click on tile flooring, you’re not in the airplane anymore, you’re not anywhere near it. You wake up so tired you can’t lift your head. You realize not only are you being carried, but you can’t move your arms or legs. You grunt, too tired to speak.

The water you drank on the plane right before falling asleep, is that why you can’t move? 

You murmur a barely audible no, unable to clench your fist when hands drop your body down. A pillow is put underneath your head, your chin is moved to the side by a light and feathery touch. You fall back asleep despite your overwhelming desire to escape.

-

“You drugged me,” you croak out, voice hoarse from sleeping all day. Is this how it’s going to be now? Are they going to carry you around like a pet that knows one really good party trick?

Yoongi ignores your accusation. “I’m going to be gone for awhile. You’re going to stay here. Plus, I think some time alone might help you adjust to how things will be from now on.”

Your muscles still feel heavy. “You’re going to lock me up like a criminal?”

“You did stab one of my men,” he jabs.

“For how long?” Yoongi stays silent. You swallow, blinking away tears. You push yourself up, sitting. “W-Where are my clothes?!”

“You’re wearing clothes.”

“T-This is nothing!” you pull the sheet over your body higher, realizing you were only wearing underwear and a bra. 

“We had to make sure your bruises weren’t serious. You’re not going to be leaving this room, you don’t need anything else. This is your punishment. I did tell you not to try anything earlier, didn’t I?”

You try to control your escalating breathing, unable to comprehend what’s happening. “Mr. Min,” you swallow, “Please-”

“Take this time while I’m away to reflect on how you want to live when you’re in my company,” he says apathetically.

How could he be so cruel? So inhumane?! “Give me clothes, j-just give me clothes.”

Yoongi exhales. “I am being so nice to you, y/n. Do you know what Choi lost because of what he did?” Yoongi yanks your hand away from you, pulling the digits out, his fingers gripping your pinky. He holds it still to emphasize his point while you begin to cry. “So you’re going to sit here like a good little mouse, for however long it takes, in whatever I decide to let you wear, until you can learn to behave,” he hisses.

You inhale one shuddering breath after the other, feeling disgusted by his hold on you. “P-Please don’t do this, p-please give me my clothes, m-my things, you said y-you would if I translated for you!” 

He lets you go with a shove. You’re left shaking, listening, hoping for Yoongi to change his mind. “Please!” you cry out.

Yoongi sighs at your crying. “If you want to use that pretty mouth to beg me, I don’t want it in words.”

“What?”

“Don’t act stupid.” He waits. “Goodbye then.”

His foot steps move across the carpet and you fumble out of bed, sheets pulled tight to your body.

Yoongi clears his throat and you orient yourself to face him.

“What do you want me to do?” You shiver, barely holding yourself together, already expecting the worst kind of answer.

Yoongi steps forward slowly, you feel his hand graze your cheek, wiping away your tears, only causing more to fall. His hands land on your shoulders…

Pushing down…

You hold in a sob, shaking even harder as your knees hit soft carpet.

You wanted to tell him wait, slow down, to stop, to scream, but how could you when it was taking all your energy to keep from falling apart, holding down cries threatening to spill out of you.

You wince listening to the rigid clicking of metal as Yoongi undoes his belt buckles.

His fingers touch underneath your chin and you fall backwards, shutting your eyes out of reflex. 

Yoongi laughs dryly. “Well I guess Tae was right, those three never touched you, did they?” He crouches down, “Did you want them to?” Yoongi tuts, “Blind girls not their thing, I guess.”

You bite your tongue, resisting the urge to defend yourself, taking in his digs instead, his patronizing tone, shaking even more, not out of fear, but anger.

“You want clothes? Your things from your apartment? Better start answering when I speak to you.”

“Please Mr. Min, give me my things.” You let out shakily, managing to barely hide your detest behind your words.

“Did you want them to?” he repeats

You breathe through your nose. “...n-no.”

“See, how can I trust you if you still won’t be honest with me...or are you just not being honest with yourself?”

Finally having enough, “Taehyung was wrong.” You say, raising your eyebrow, voice low and condescending matching Yoongi’s haughty demeanor.

Yoongi inhales sharply. Interesting. He knew Tae was full of shit.

“They fucked you? Did they pass you around? Or did they stuff you full all at once?”

You clench your jaw at Yoongi’s crude line of questioning, holding the sheet around you tighter. “It was a long time ago,” you whisper.

“Stand up.” You stand up on shaky legs. Yoongi smirks. “Y/n, your life doesn’t have to change, you could be traveling with me, the same as you did before. You just have to let me take care of you. When you listen to me, you get rewarded.”

“Or I could strip you of everything,” he snaps, yanking you forward by your bra. 

“O-Okay...okay.” you swallow, putting your hand on his chest to feel his steady heartbeat and give yourself some space. 

If that is what it takes to make all this a little less miserable…

Your foreheads touch as you shake against him.

Until you can escape…

You softly touch his lips.

He doesn't kiss you back. Yoongi watches your blank stare when you quickly pull away, studying your features with doubt, you are being surprisingly compliant. Let’s see how far he can push you before your compliance breaks…

He places his hand over yours, lowering it down his body slowly, until it rests on his opened belt buckle.

You fumble with his button and zipper while Yoongi drops his head, lips against your neck, he nudges you with his mouth to test your reaction, his actions so teasingly slow compared to your frantic movements.

You yank his belt swiftly out of his pants loops as he pulls on the sheet between you letting it drop at your feet. Goosebumps bloom against his lips and under his fingertips as he runs his hands down your arms.

Don’t think of his lips on your shoulder, his tongue dragging across your skin, his hands groping your ass…just get this over with, you think, pulling out his hardening cock.

He yanks you closer, strong hands gripping you in a way that is so possessive and passionate your body can’t help but react. His deep grunts pierce through you, shaking the foundations of your steadfast mind, crumbling your thoughts away.

You move to rest on your knees, wanting to stop his unforgiving mouth on your neck, but his arms snake around your waist, holding you up still, moving you backward to press you against the room’s wall while he unclasps your bra away.

Yoongi holds your chin in between his fingers. “Open your mouth for me,” he says, hot and heavy, voice dripping with desire, dominating.

His fingers press down on your tongue to open wider.

“Get on your knees.” he pushes you down as he says it, giving you no other option than to obey.

Replacing his thumb with the tip of his cock on your tongue, he pushes in, your head stuck against the wall and between his hard frame.

Yoongi closes his eyes, leaning his head back, enjoying your warm open mouth. His jaw goes slack as he slowly pulls himself out and back in until you choke, your nails digging into his thighs as he sets a slow steady pace. He grins, looking back down at your compliant body as he thrusts his cock down your throat, your mouth getting more and more sloppy as he forces you to take the full length of him over and over again.

You catch your breath in those small moments he is pulling away from you, concentrating on those opportunities, until he gets closer to his release, his movements sporadic and rougher, filling your throat deeper with short thrusts that leave no room for breathes and scare you, and even when you kick out, and try to pull free, he holds your skull, nails digging into your hair, with no way to move backward or away.

He pulls out completely, leaving you gasping for air. You rest against the wall defeatedly, waiting until he bursts, his cum landing on your face and chest. Yoongi leans his head against the wall, catching his breath. Yet you still feel suffocated by him, his frame still over you as he comes down from release. 

You cover your breasts, clenching your jaw tight, so you won’t cry. You feel sticky and dirty and disgusting. “My clothes, my things,” you grunt, voice raspy from his deep thrusts.

Yoongi looks down at your ruined appearance, a sick sense of satisfaction creeping inside him now that he was back to his senses. Momentarily giving into his urges was fun, but you at his feet covered in his cum had been a better outcome than he could have imagined. The things you would do to get what you wanted.

He moves to the door, unlocking it with a key. “You’ll get some of your things.”

When he leaves, you bang your fist into the wall, finally allowing yourself to lose composure. Angry, sad, hurt, alone.

---

Braille books. You smile passing over the ones Namjoon bought you. Your withering plants. You use sink water in your bathroom to rehydrate them. Your albums, you check each raised label you added to the sleeves to make sure every single one was there, but you can’t find your player. Your clothes aren’t here, your jewelry isn’t here. There are your old stuffed animals, some from fans, some from friends. What’s this? You forgot you owned this, a braille typewriter that must have been in the back of your closet. No paper, you frown. 

“I want my clothes,” you say when the door opens. There is soft clanging as a tray is deposited and the door shuts quickly before you can say anything else.

Fifteen meals, almost a week here, by yourself, no one to talk to. You were given dresses that weren’t your own. The thin fabric and shortness of them left little to the imagination, especially with your bra gone now too.

Twenty-seven more meals. It’s two weeks. With no contact. You can’t take it. You missed everyone so much it felt like you were being split apart through the center of your chest, torn from the inside out. Every day passed meant less of a chance that people were looking for you. Did anyone give a shit about you anymore?

Pacing around the room, you knew every inch of it now. There was no window, only a toilet and a sink, a bed and a table. You’re tired of reading your books and you can’t listen to your records, you can’t type, every request you ask falls on deaf ears, a door shut in your face no matter what you say or do.

You had nothing to do but slowly lose your mind. 

You thought about your life and all the things you took for granted, all the chores you hated to do that you missed now. You thought about friends, you thought about Namjoon and Jimin and Taehyung and what they were doing now. But most of all you thought about killing yourself and all the ways you could accomplish that. But the thing that kept you from falling off the brink of insanity was the thought of killing Yoongi with your bare hands.

---

Every morning you are greeted with bread and water and a different kind of fruit. But this morning, instead of one knock on the door and then a breakfast tray, the door swung open quietly as you slept.

“Good morning, little mouse.”

“Mr. Min?”

His voice was the first voice you heard in twenty-one days. The elation you felt was twisting, turning in the pit of your stomach knowing it was Yoongi who was the cause.

“What are you wearing?”

“The ‘clothes’ you gave me.” You were wearing the rags he called dresses. All of them.  One you used as a skirt, and you fashioned three into a top. 

“Get up.”

“Why?” you ask, still pulling your feet from under the covers.

“You’re accompanying me to an event. But first, a shower.”

A proper shower? Not cleaning yourself in that bathroom sink… 

You hold your hand out.

-

You could stay under the showerhead all day, it feels so good. This bathroom was three times the size as yours, warm, inviting. The steam hugged your body, the cascading water washed away your tears, the dirtiness you still felt inside you that couldn’t be scrubbed away.

When you were finally clean and dry, you allowed yourself to smile, hugging the warm plush robe to your body, a far cry from the small worn towels given to you before.

Yoongi gives you your dress for the night, the tiny bag you had left in your hotel that held your makeup, and sits you down in front of the table of food he has been eating while waiting for you.

There’s so much of it, and all so good tasting, you don’t know what to eat first, picking food up with your fingers.

“You can’t act like that when we’re out in public.”

“Yeah, okay,” you dismiss, food still in your mouth. You have the urge to throw the rest at him.

“If you can prove yourself tonight, you can stay in this room instead-” He drinks chilled whisky. “-with me,” he finishes.

You slow down, reaching for only one roll instead of two. “Okay,” you nod, head down. You refused to go back into that room.

---

“You know clothes are supposed to ‘cover’ your body?”

There were so many people around you. Laughing dinner guests, music playing, waiters stopping you every so often, offering you drinks, a party for important people.

“They cover what’s important to me,” he says dismissively. The dress you wore was cut low, very low, showing off your back. At least the train was long, but difficult to walk in…difficult to escape in…

You held onto Yoongi’s arm as he spoke to people. They all spoke Korean, there was nothing for you to really do except be annoyed, listening to small talk that meant nothing to you.

“What are we doing here?”

“Enjoying the night.”

You repress the urge to scoff. Being locked alone in silence for so long to this…dealing with the background chatter all around you was not easy, and was not fun. Your head hurt from the noise, your feet hurt from wearing heels you were not used to. The thing that surprisingly did not hurt right now was your heart, what hurt you the most when you were locked in, thinking of all your loved ones.

You were too preoccupied now, curiously listening to every conversation in the vicinity. It was mostly dumb shallow small talk, but it was infinitely more entertaining than talking to yourself.

Yoongi’s arm snakes around your waist.

“What are you doing?” you whisper.

“Kiss me.”

“What?!”

“Kiss me now, if don’t want to end up back in that room for another month…and make it convincing,” he whispers.

What is this? Is he trying to piss off an ex? This is so ridiculous, this is what he wanted you for? To pretend to be his girlfriend at a party? How pathetic. But the thought of being locked up again-

You put your arms around his neck, leaning forward to place a kiss on his cheek.

“That’s not-”

“You said make it convincing,” you whisper, hand moving to his other cheek, tilting his head towards yours. You press your lips against his softly, then more forcefully until he’s moving his mouth against yours, mirroring your actions.

You fake a smile. “Happy?” you whisper in a biting tone, breaking the spell.

But Yoongi’s not ready to end the act, pulling you back in with his hand against your neck, giving you one last shameless kiss, drawn out, with tongue, turning your legs to jello.

He moves you through the party again, disappearing into the crowd. “See, she’s fine, I guess,” Taehyung says, watching as you move further away, sipping on his drink to lessen the shock.

Namjoon downs the rest of his champagne. “She’s not fine,” he whispers. There’s too many people around them, all itching to be the next to speak to the trio. Jimin is taking pictures, already buzzed on alcohol, laughing too loudly at his own jokes, not a care in the world, especially not about the girl who sacrificed her life for his. ‘Can he not be a fucking self-centered ass for one night?’ Namjoon thinks. “I’m going to talk to her-”

Taehyung pulls Namjoon back. “Are you crazy? He could ruin all our careers-”

“Mr. Kim?” Both Namjoon and Taehyung turn to the excited industry professional speaking. “Oh, Mr. Kim Namjoon, I wanted to introduce myself, I’m-” Taehyung pats Namjoon on the back, giving him a look that says, ‘See? You’ll never get to them without causing a scene.’

You rest your head on Yoongi’s shoulder. “Tired? I thought you would be excited to get out for the night?”

“I’m fine,” you offer him a fake smile, lying.

“Mr. Min, this is for you,” a man speaks to him, handing him a large purse. Yoongi nods, putting it on your shoulder, the bag is so heavy the strap digs into your shoulder. He pulls off his jacket, putting it around your shoulders to further conceal the bag, but not before adjusting your dress, hands raking over your exposed cleavage. 

“What’s in the bag?” you mumble, your body heating up.

He holds you close, lips against your cheek. “Don’t worry about it.”

“Wait, did you just turn me into a drug mule?” You hold onto his forearms, nails tightly pressed into his skin. He matches your aggressiveness, twisting your arm and pulling you close so no one notices. “You want me to be honest with you? Then you be honest with me,” you argue.

“It’s not drugs. Did you forget who I am? My business?”

“Money-”

“Not money, not really. Hard drives.”

“Hard drives?” you stutter.

“Yes.”

“What’s on them?”

Yoongi sighs, letting you go. “A few digital wallets, some videos. Sometimes, secrets make the best collateral.”

What kind of secrets could be worth so much? “Secrets…like a dating scandal?” you think out loud.

“Clever little mouse. Not this time, no. You know there are certain establishments men sometimes like to…indulge in? Parlors? We have one bugged.”

“So these are bad men...”

Yoongi smirks, finding your righteousness amusing. “Yes, they are.” 

You nod in understanding, gripping the purse strap. Yoongi lays his hands on your hips. It’s like he always has to touch you, feel you, make sure you’re there with him, even though he is the one who can see you and you can’t. 

He’s always touching, like now, running his hands across your curves, thumb under the fabric of your dress to caress your skin, holding you like a lover would, and you can’t push away, tell him no, and worst of all, you’re body is becoming accustomed to his hands, used to his touches. It should revolt you…he should…but he doesn’t, and that makes you feel disgusted with yourself.

You’re in a room full of people, and Yoongi is the only person you know. It is an ironic cruelty to feel safer in his arms here.

You lean against him, unable to concentrate on anything else other than his hands. You should scream, you should kick him and run away. But how many secrets of yours did he hold? What would his hands do to you, if you tried to escape?

You can’t stand it, the way he makes you feel. “H-How much longer?”

“Do you want to go home?”

More than anything, that’s what you want, but the home you are thinking of is not where he is referring. You nod against his chest.

“Y/n!”

You lift your head abruptly. Did someone call your name?

Yoongi drapes his arm around you, leading you away.

You heard it again! Your name spoken so clearly through the chatter of people. You try to slow your pace, but Yoongi’s hold on you is too strong. Your heartbeat pounds through your chest as you try to hear it again, just to be certain. But you never heard it, the ghost crying out to you, Namjoon might as well have been a figment of your imagination.

“What’s wrong?”

You wait for valet to bring Yoongi’s car. Your heart rate won’t go down, you felt rattled still, sure you heard your name. “What was the reason for that celebration?”

“A slew of rich people with too much time on their hands, they come up with a different reason every weekend to hold one of those things. Today it’s a charity so they can use their philanthropy to make themselves feel better than the rest of us, tomorrow it’s a premier party of some sort. Why?”

“Curious, I guess-”

“Yoongi!”

“We were just leaving. Right, y/n?”

“A quick smoke then?” Taehyung holds out a cigarette for Yoongi, hoping to entice him. Yoongi nods, taking it.

Taehyung just wanted to make sure you were okay, see you up close so he could convince Namjoon to cool it, the rapper was going to send himself into an early grave if he did not stop blaming himself for what happened to you. But one look at your wide shell-shocked eyes, the fear and hope and pain he saw etched across your features, and Taehyung knew he had made a terrible mistake. He could lie to Namjoon and Jimin, but he couldn’t lie to himself.

“T-Tae?” you whisper in disbelief, holding out your hand, which Yoongi grabbed promptly, shutting down any physical touch from the idol singer.

Taehyung swallowed, saying your name so softly you wanted to burst into tears, if Yoongi’s hand denting into your wrist did not remind you of the snake wrapped around you, ready to strike if you did something wrong.

“A-Are you okay?” Taehyung asks, knowing deep down you weren’t but hoping desperately you would prove him wrong.

“She’s fine,” Yoongi answers for you, taking a long inhale of his cigarette, his other arm still draped around you, holding you firmly. “Didn’t she look like she was having a good time?”

Taehyung nods stiffly. You say his name again, your voice breaking, so tiny and full of emotion Taehyung feels his chest clench and his stomach turn. 

“I’ll check in on you again, to make sure you’re okay, so don’t worry,” Taehyung whispers hurriedly, noticing Yoongi’s vehicle approaching.

“Oh Tae, you don’t need to act like the good guy in front of her, she already knows,” Yoongi says dryly, flicking his cigarette butt on the ground.

Taehyung looks to the ground, unable to meet Yoongi’s eyes for too long, scared of the loan shark. Yoongi pulls your stiff body away, into the back seat of his car with him.

Taehyung watches as his driver pulls away. Taehyung pulls out another cigarette to calm his nerves. Why would you kiss Yoongi like that, hold him like that, and act so terrified now?! Whatever Yoongi was doing, was much more calculated than Taehyung ever thought possible. But Taehyung knew for certain, that there would be no convincing Namjoon now.

---

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter: New Life

Regarding the update goal, I am just trying something different to help engagement, I was hoping it would encourage reblogs lol but I love your comments as well, very cute. Yay and thank you to my readers! Boo to those who like and then unlike once I update, that's a good way to get blocked, a warning.

#yandere bts #bts yandere #yandere yoongi #bts smut #yoongi smut #yoongi x reader #namjoon x reader #yoongi fanfiction #bts fanfic #bts mafia au #bts au

[that-bookworm-guy]

A rainbow stack of Trans Books

I've rewritten this caption over & over. I've researched & written stats for trans, as well as queer hate crime. I've written about my own experiences. I wanted something with impact, to make people think & hopefully make a tiny difference. Except I won't make a difference, & that's okay

I'm tired of hearing about all the anti LGBTQ+ bills. I'm tired of hearing about trans hate. I'm tired of experiencing hate. I'm tired of my family being scared for me every time I go out. I'm tired of constantly fighting between being a proud queer person or living stealth. Both have their pros & cons, but I shouldn't have to pick, I should be allowed to just be

I was trying to write about how just 1 person supporting us makes a difference, how calling something out for being transphobic, homophobic, ableist, racist, etc, can help. But I've written about it before, other people have said it too. We can keep trying. We will never give up, but right now, I'm tired from it all

This pride month, I'm tired. I know others are too & that's okay

But we have 2 of the most powerful tools, books & social media. There is power in reading banned books. They are banned for reasons. We can have a quiet revolution. Read queer books all year. Read queer books from different countries, read fiction, non-fiction, read poems, & fan fiction. Read & share books. Read about different identities & different experiences. Educate yourself, because right now, that knowledge is power. Don't let them erase us. I've seen how this community can pull together.

So, bookblr, I ask 1 simple thing. Please keep reading & sharing queer books all year, not just pride month

For those reading this, you are never alone 💙

Books in stack:

1. The Strangeworlds Travel Agency - L.D. Lapinski

2. The Transgender Issue - Shon Faye

3. Trans Like Me - CN Lester

4. Top to Bottom - Finlay Games

5. The Gender Games - Juno Dawson

6. Trans Britain - Edited by Christine Burns

7. A Trans Man Walks into a Gay Bar - Harry Nicolas

Books standing to the left of the stack:

8. Gender Euphoria - Edited by Laura Kate Dale

9. What's the T? - Juno Dawson

#books #booklr #book blog #book #bookblr #book blogger #bookworm #nerd #geek #book lover #book photography #book photo #pride month #pride #queer books #queer #lgbt books #lgbtqia books #lgbtq books

[th3sp4rr0w]

Chapter Sixteen

A03 Link <- Starts at Chapter/Day One for those just joining us :))

Prompts For Day Sixteen Amputation/Chronic Pain/Hospital

Alt. Prompt For Day Sixteen Lab Rat

Prompts Used for Day Sixteen Amputation, Hospitals

Tw's; Medical Experimentation, Amputation, Dubious Medical Accuracy, Dissociation, Vomit *Note; The amputation happens on screen. If you cannot handle that sort of content right now, please don't read.

(If you saw this post before the edit no you didn't)

Chapter Sixteen under the cut :)

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

Becoming Robin had been a dream. It hadn’t been something entirely positive at first, and he’d struggled. Some days felt harder than others. But having the chance to change what it meant to be the Boy Wonder? That had been the dream.

Being from the alley had meant a lot for kids like him, especially after his mom died. It meant that most adults weren’t to be trusted. It meant cold nights and shoplifting food and medicine when he needed it. It meant stealing tires until he was old enough to be trusted to do other things.

It especially meant avoiding any ‘hero’ types that thought dropping kids off in the foster system was helping. It wasn’t helping. It was taking them from everything they’d ever known, leaving behind siblings and family members for no good reason and going somewhere that, no matter how they tried to paint it, was worse than living on the streets. Most of the foster families he’d ever had were just power-hungry adults that thought that every foster kid they had should be kissing their heals just because they decided they knew better.

He changed that. Batman and Nightwing knew that the kids Jason interacted with couldn’t be touched, not without him losing his mind. They’d only tried once, when he was shiny and new. After weeks of tantrums and yelling and sneaking around, he’d tracked every kid down to make sure they were alright and broke the ones that didn’t want to be there out. Alfred made them have a talk after that stunt. He chewed out Dick and Bruce, to his surprise, and they compromised. The alleys were Jason’s, for the most part. Bruce would help any kid that wanted out, and vetted the foster homes they went to himself, with Jason helping.

The people of the alley loved him. He knew them, he breathed them- he'd been marked in a way that was irreversible and he wore it with pride. It’d been a dream come true to protect them, to serve them; that was the part he’d loved the most.

He’d never once wondered if it was worth it. Questioned if he was making a mistake. He never thought he’d be wondering that because of a situation he was in; he always thought he’d be wondering that one day because of a casualty or something.

Sitting here, curled on a cot with a twin he’d never known existed until a few weeks ago and hadn’t met until... a day ago? Several days ago?

Time was so weird here. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he knew it was a technique in torture to deny your victim access to time. He’d always thought that was stupid. Surely it couldn’t have been that bad. He’d never known how disorientating it would feel.

He looked over to Phantom, who was still asleep. It’s been... at least a day, he thinks, since they were given the tablets and Phantom got muzzled. They’ve healed nearly completely; even the bruise on Phantom’s head he’d come in with that had remained stubborn had dissipated. His hand healed, which was a little freaky but he’d take it. The only thing that they’d done is have Agent J come in periodically to take photos and leave.

He thinks, vaguely, somewhere in him he should be grateful that nothing had happened since then. He was relieved, somewhere deep down, but mostly he was suspicious and terrified. It felt like they were constantly waiting for the other shoe to drop. Every time they picked up the jingle of keys was like hearing something growling in the bushes during a camping trip. Would this be the time? Is this how it ends? Would he ever get to say goodbye to his loved ones?

He held Phantom’s hand tight. He’d been trying to reach Ellie, but he hadn’t even gotten a message back yet. He was beginning to worry about her. Hell, Jason had never met the little girl and he was worried about her.

He heard the jingle. He quickly shook Phantom awake as the doorknob started to move.

Phantom had already gotten better at bolting up and pretending he wasn’t rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. Jason would probably feel bad about that if it wasn’t such a valuable resource.

Agent J walked in with Agent V in tow. They looked at the boys, their hands linked, bodies tensed.

“We are moving you,” they stated coldly. “You’ve been cleared for further testing.”

Agent V walked over, holding two chains. She clipped them to their collars, holding them both in one hand. She began walking.

They had no choice but to follow.

Disbelief-Annoyance-Humiliation

“Same,” he thought to himself. Didn’t Phantom say simple words could travel through this link?

He got an idea. He concentrated hard.

Woof

Shock-Amusement-Disbelief

He could feel Phantom shaking with restrained laughter. Jason didn’t dare look over at him, attempting to control himself.

The agents led them through what Jason suspected was designed to be an intentionally confusing winding path of hallways. Every step brought more dread pooling into his gut, even despite his attempt at humor. He had a sneaking suspicion Danny felt similar. It was never a good sign to have two heroes getting the same bad feeling.

When they got to the room the agents were leading them to, they saw two different cots. He recognized several medical machines, like EKG’s and heart monitors and I.V. bag infusers ready and set up. There were gauze and suture kits lined up on the table. They had a covered cart of unknown medical supplies at the ready. They had a crash cart sitting to one side.

He really didn’t have a good feeling about this.

 “You’ve healed enough that we feel it wise to start testing your more human sides,” Agent J was saying. “Subject F, over here,” they patted the cot to the left, “Subject T is over here,” they pointed to the right.

They looked at each other. Phantom shrugged and went over to the left cot. Jason went over to the right.

The chain yanked uncomfortably until Agent J removed it with a huff. “Honestly, Agent V, how many times do I need to remind you? You need to be anticipating what I want and displays of negligence to your post like this are unbecoming, especially for an agent of your standing.”

Agent V noticeably twitched. “Yes, boss. My apologies,” they grit out.

Jason took a deep breath, looking over to Phantom. They didn’t know what to expect out of this.

Agent J started digging into the cart, audibly shifting things around. When they popped back up, Agent V had a tape recorder out and ready.

They smiled. “See! Was that so hard, Agent V? That’s all I ask; for you to anticipate instead of sitting there looking, well... as pretty as you can.”

Jason took a deep breath. That was a low blow. How did these guys treat actual people if this was how they were treating each other?

Agent V apparently felt similar because she growled a bit under her breath as Agent J snatched the ancient device out of her hand. Didn’t Dick have one of those when he was a kid? Gross.

“Log 39 on subjects F and T,” they stated, “This is Agent J speaking, here with Agent V. We’ve gotten the green light for several experiments we’ve been wanting to run. We will be doing several small-scale experiments today, results pending. The results of those experiments will influence the total number of experiments and the intensity. We have agents L through P on standby in case there are any more incidents, as these two seem to be prone to when under duress.

“The first experiment today will be using sanguis surrexerunt, commonly known as ‘blood blossoms’. The flower is rare but has been used throughout history to ward off ghosts. Previous testing has proven that the rumored effects are true, having caused several subjects to destabilize in the past. What we are looking for today is what effects, if any, they have on the hybrids and whether they are able to withstand the effects of the flower or not.”

DANGER-DANGER-DANGER

Jason looked at Phantom as the agent kept talking. He was near hyperventilating, eyes wide and glassy.

He wondered what that was about as he watched Agent V out of the corner of his eye. She took the sealed container Agent J was holding and opened it.

His eyes started to water. Phantom looked like he was having flashbacks, his eyes wide. He was rocking back and forth on the cot.

“Subjects seem to be in no physical duress,” Agent J muttered. “I will continue recording when the experiment is over. I will be giving an oral report, however my findings will be marked down as they happen, as per standard protocol.”

Agent V brought a table over to put between them, setting the container down.

“Alright, Agent V, you go get the next experiment prepped. I will sit here and continue monitoring the subjects.”

Indignity-Annoyance-Calm

DANGER-DANGER-DANGER

Jason frowned. Calm-Safe-Reassurance

He fought the urge to look back over to Phantom, training his gaze on the agents. Maybe if he could unnerve them...

Agent J sat in the chair, making observations. The flower had been a minor annoyance, but so far had not caused any adverse effects on him.

He heard a whimper from Phantom and caved. He looked towards the other boy, curious.

He was rocking back and forth, distressed. He looked like he was going to start crying at any second.

The agent did not react.

“Phantom?” He finally asked. “Are you okay?’

Phantom shook his head frantically. Out of the corner of his eye he saw the agent rise.

They grabbed his hair as he whined pitifully. They shined a light in his eyes. They wrenched his mouth open, shining it down his throat. They hummed.

“You’re fine. Stop faking a more severe reaction, you’re skewing my results.”

Jason scoffed quietly. He reached out-

“Stop that,” they smacked his hand away. “We can’t have you two attached at the hip. If you don’t stop it, we’ll have no choice but to separate you,” they said sternly. “No matter what the department head thinks about it,” they muttered under their breath.

Jason fought the urge to yell. Calm-Reassurance-Protective

DANGER-DANGER-DANGER

About five minutes passed. Danny hadn’t really calmed down, but he was doing a remarkable job pretending he had. It was like everything had turned off. He looked like Dick did the day he showed up at the manor at 4 in the morning after his first outing with a student he’d trained. He’d had the same look in his eyes; Dick didn’t react to anything for hours. It had been terrifying then and it wasn’t any better now.

The agent looked down at their watch and marked something down. “Alright,” they mumbled, “It’s time to move on to round two.”

They grabbed two of the flowers.

The deep red of the middle reminded him of blood. He supposed that was how it got its name. The dark center faded into a deep, beautiful purple color that morphed into black at the edges of the petals. It was vaguely shaped like a rose.

It was beautiful. He supposed he could see why people would like it; it smelled vaguely like honey and something sickly sweet. He bet it would be delicious.

The agent placed a flower in front of each boy. Something in him made his breath hitch.

It felt like he was being stared down by a predator. He figured Phantom’s constant stream of DANGER-DANGER-DANGER was warranted based on his own primal instinct.

It was only through rigorous training by Batman that he managed to control his breathing. He forced himself to breathe normally; he could tell his airways were still clear, but snot was starting to run out of his nose. He could still feel his eyes water; he wished he had his cape to wipe his eyes with. He settled for his glove.

The agent watched him and took notes. The longer they spent there the more he felt like an animal in a cage. Sometimes he felt like they were a rare species of ape at the zoo being ogled at; other times he felt akin to a lab rat, being poked and prodded. He was vaguely scared he was going to wake up to a clone one of these days.

He swallowed. If these people figured out clones were a thing they’d likely have a big, big problem on their hands. He hoped they never did.

Hope had never gotten him very far in life. He could only pray it worked this time.

It was boring, sitting there. He tried to think of something entertaining. He thought of the fic he had started writing way before he got sick; he wondered what his followers would think of this update. He wondered what the baby bird was doing. He was certain Dick wasn’t going to be happy with him.

His only comfort was knowing that this (Maybe? Probably?) would’ve happened anyways. Even if he wouldn’t have gotten captured if he hadn’t gone out, Danny probably would’ve. Regardless of what happened to them, he was glad he was here with him. That they were together. He could’ve lived his whole life without this.

The thought made something in his chest pang. He... wasn’t sure how to say it, but he loved his brothers. He couldn’t imagine his future without either of them being there. Having attachments had always been terrifying to him when he was younger, especially after his mom, but some things are just... natural. People get attached. Attachment was to be a person.

Danny sat on the bed, staring at the blossom. He looked at it like it was something much, much worse than a flower. Jason wouldn’t doubt it if that were true.

Once again, the agent looked down at their watch and wrote something down. “Pick up the flowers,” they ordered.

Jason watched Danny- no, Phantom, as he reached out a shaking hand. Once he was certain the other boy was following the direction, he followed it himself. He got the sense that he was purposely touching an electric fence or trying to pet an aggressive tiger.

He looked over to Phantom, who had the blossom in between two fingers. He held it as far away from the rest of him as he could, arm resting on his knee. Jason had the vague sense he should’ve been smarter than cupping it in one hand, bringing it closer to inspect it.

He looked down at the center of the flower, spotting the dark seeds within. They looked more like poppy seeds than that of a rose bush. He vaguely expected his hand to start tingling.

His cheek itched. His legs and hands followed suit. It was like he was being tickled everywhere all at once; he fought the urge to scratch. He squirmed.

He finally caved, scratching his right leg first. He saw Phantom out of the corner of his eye doing the same, starting with his chest.

The agent started writing faster, gaining a small grin. It was like they enjoyed this. They probably did.

He tried to wipe his nose and scratch his scars at the same time. He nearly dropped the blood blossom as he did so.

“Keep a hold of that, subject T,” the agent barked.

He adjusted his grip. He got the feeling he shouldn’t crush the flower unless he wanted everything to get worse; he kept it cupped in his hand, squirming against the rough cot, trying to get relief.

The agent was suddenly in front of them, grabbing the blossoms. “The next step was supposed to be ingestion,” they said out loud, “However, based on these results, I will omit that. For now,” they said under their breath. “We have more tests to conduct today, so we will be moving on to those.”

Jason tried to bury the flash of fear. If this was only one of the tests...

Agent J scribbled in their notepad for a moment before producing a razor from their pocket. They grabbed Jason’s wrist first. He tried not to flinch as they cut through the scar tissue sitting there, creating a cut about an inch long.

They cleaned off the razor as blood dripped down his arm. They did the same to Phantom.

They took a blood blossom and started pulling it apart into several bowls. The itching had been going down, but as they tore into the blossom, Jason could feel it begin to itch once more. He figured he was right to not crush the flower while he was holding it; he’s not sure what would’ve happened, but if it was this bad across the room from him, he didn’t want to know what it would be like up close.

They sorted through the petals, lining two rows in a gradient, from the very edge of the flower to the inside. They placed two seeds at the end of each row.

They grabbed a gauze pad and cut it into four pieces. They grabbed the medical tape.

They placed the petal on the bottom layer, then a piece of gauze, then a piece of medical tape on top. They prepared another before placing one on top of each boy’s cut.

It burned. It made him squirm and, looking at Danny, he could see that he felt the same way. He actively dug his hand into his thigh to prevent himself from scratching at it; he had a feeling he was in for a punishment if he removed it. Danny did something similar, sinking his teeth into his arm to distract himself.

He had begun to whimper again. The agent ignored them, simply observing their distress once again and writing down their observations. He took a deep breath.

A long, pitiful whine took over his throat. The instinctual urge to scratch himself raw began to consume him; it felt like he needed this thing off now-

He looked down. He could see his skin begin to turn black around the gauze. The agent noticed as well, going over and peeling off the tape holding it there.

The wound had gotten worse. It looked like....

His eyes widened. Where the petal had been had begun to rot his skin; he could see the decaying flesh.

The agent cursed and grabbed Danny’s arm, ripping his gauze off. His arm also had a rotted mark on it where the cut used to reside.

They went back over to the cart, grabbing medical instruments and going over to the door, opening it and popping their head out. “Someone get me Agent V!” they called before turning back.

They sat in front of Phantom, grabbing his arm and scraping roughly at the rotted skin. His hand began to twitch and tense.

“Stop that,” they hissed.

Danny breathed harshly for a few seconds before saying, “I can-can't help-”

“If you don’t stop it, I will cut it off.”

He whimpered, visibly trying to get his hand under control. Agent V walked in at that moment.

“Agent J, you needed me?”

“Yes,” they grit out, “Experiment went slightly awry. Scrape out his wound, if we leave it like this it may spread,” they said and pointed to the tools they haphazardly spilled on the table between the cots.

She didn’t say a word before going over to Jason’s cot. He scrambled to cross his legs before they got there. They sat down and grabbed some of the tools, starting to harshly scrape at his wound.

He tried not to flinch. Every scrape of her blade felt like it was directly on a nerve. He refused to cry or cry out; it didn’t work very well. It was getting trapped under his masks; he had a suspicion that they already knew his civilian identity, but he didn’t want to give them the satisfaction. He didn’t want to give them any more information than he absolutely had to, not that it was much beyond the things they’d personally witnessed. These idiots somehow hadn’t realized they could just, you know, ask them for certain information... not that Jason knew much to begin with.

Oh well. Probably best they didn’t start interrogating Danny for information. He hadn’t known the other boy long, but he had the feeling he was a terrible liar.

“That’s it!” the agent shouted, throwing down the tool.

Jason looked over to Danny, whose hand was shaking uncontrollably. He had tears streaming down his cheeks; he was whimpering.

“What’s it whining about?” the agent in front of Jason asked. She yanked on his arm, pulling him closer and scraping harder the more agitated she became.

He eventually took the tool from her, “I’ll do it,” he hissed.

She looked at him and shrugged.

He... almost couldn’t believe that worked. He started scraping the wound himself.

He glanced up at the agents every now and again, who were talking to themselves. When Jason was done clearing his throbbing wound, he looked over to Danny. The boy had his arm pressed close to his chest, curled around it. He could vaguely see his hand still twitching; he could see his scars faintly glowing.

He looked over to the agents. He carefully got off of the cot and climbed onto Danny’s, grabbing a new tool. He gently pulled his arm over to him, beginning to continue scraping it out. The heaving sobs made it more difficult than it otherwise would’ve been, but it was getting done. He had just finished when he was grabbed by the collar and lifted up.

“Hey-!” he protested. “I’m almost done-"

“We didn’t give you permission, ghostie,” Agent V hissed in his ear. “I outta-”

“The blood blossoms are off the table,” Agent J said immediately. They were holding what looked to be a machete.

Jason really hoped that wasn’t for what he thought it was for.

“How else am I supposed to punish it?” Agent V asked, bored.

Agent J raised an eyebrow. “How about you come over here? I will deal with Subject T.”

Agent V’s face lit up. “Really?”

They rolled their eyes. “Now, agent,” they commanded.

She practically ran over, taking Danny’s arm in her hand.

Agent J looked at Jason for a moment before grabbing some sort of cuff. They wrapped one around his wrist and the other to the bed as they watched Agent V look at the weapon in her hand like she was a small child holding a new toy.

“You’d better watch,” they hissed. “Unless you want the same punishment.”

He had a horrible feeling about this.

He watched in sickening realization as the agent brought the weapon down on the joint of Danny’s hand and wrist. He cried out as it started spurting blood.

“This,” Agent V said cruely, “Is what happens when you don’t listen to us! You were told to stop moving your hand,” she stopped to grab him by his hair as he tried to back away, “But you did it anyways, didn’t you?! Answer me!"

“Yes!” he wailed. Jason watched in wide-eyed horror as she grabbed the weapon and bore it down again, hitting the same place as before.

“You see, subject T,” the agent whispered in his ear, “This is what happens when you don’t listen. You get punished.”

The sick bubbled up in Jason until he couldn’t hold it anymore. His stomach emptied out onto the floor in front of him. He felt a hand in his hair, forcing him to look up.

“Watch,” they hissed. “You will be cleaning that later,” they added.

Jason nodded as he watched in horror.

Something in his brain went fuzzy. He was watching; he could see when the hand was severed, hanging on by little bits of flesh and not-quite severed tendon. He watched as Agent V cut the remaining bits with medical scissors and cauterized the wound. His whole head felt like it was underwater; he couldn’t hear anybody clearly.

He was pushed onto the floor, paper towels and cleaners shoved at him. He stared at the vomit before robotically cleaning it up, tossing the used towels away. 

Wipe, toss. Wipe, toss. Spray, wipe, toss. Spray, wipe, toss.

He thought of Alfred’s roses, how he helped Alfred tend to them and, occasionally, replant some of the bushes in other areas. Besides being in the kitchen, it was their favorite bonding activity.

He didn’t think he liked it so much anymore.

Someone else came in. He could vaguely hear them beginning to fight with the other agents as he cleaned.

“… Weren’t supposed to do that! This wasn’t approved-”

“We were going to have to test it eventually, anyways! Besides, it misbehaved-”

“He was in pain! You were using blood blossoms; you don’t think those hurt-”

“Please, it’s a plant, how much damage-"

“It destabilizes the core! You don’t think that causes some pain-"

He finished cleaning and vaguely looked around. He forced himself back into his body; his hearing was still weird, but he ignored it.

His hearing hadn’t been quite right since Ethiopia, anyways.

He spotted Danny, cradling his stump on the cot. He crawled up onto the small thing with him, pulling him into his arms.

He pressed his face into Jason’s middle, crying. Jason ran fingers through his hair, untangling it. They were both getting quite greasy and dirty; he wanted a shower so bad. He wasn’t about to ask if they could get in.

He looked down at their shoes. Danny’s black sneakers were worn down with use, the sole nearly fallen off. In comparison with his nearly pristine Robin boots Bruce makes sure to have replaced at least once a year according to Dick...

And Phantom’s parents had been scientists. That didn’t sit right with him; from the little snippets he’d heard about them, they should be able to afford their kid a decent pair of sneakers.

Phantom had been training his collar to not go off when he used his powers. He’d made some decent progress; they’ve concluded it is ectoplasm in the collars reacting to their powers. He got up to two fingers intangible yesterday.

Jason had been trying to do something similar, but because he never had control of his powers to begin with, he’d just ended up shocked twice. Danny forbade him from trying again. Their plan for escape looked more solid by the day. But this?

Jason wasn’t sure what this meant, but he knew that they couldn’t just ignore it. He wasn’t sure if Phantom’s hand would even regrow. He was the only one out of the two of them that could use their powers. Their escape plan was looking less likely.

The agents stopped talking. Jason looked up from tending to his brother when he caught movement in the corner of his eye.

A woman with blonde hair sat in front of them. She had smile lines and her hair was in a low ponytail. She smiled pleasantly at him.

Agent A reached a hand out to his shoulder. He fought not to throw it off.

“Hi, Robin,” she said quietly. “I’m sorry they did this. Why don’t you give him to me and we can get you two back in your room, yeah?”

Jason wordlessly held up Danny’s stump. He saw her face twitch.

“They didn’t bandage it up?!” she hissed. She visibly composed herself. “I’ll dress that for him. Do you have the mark on your arm, hon?"

He nodded. He slid Danny off of his lap and onto the cot, as much as it pained him to do so. Danny looked up at him. He whimpered.

“Hey, honey, no,” she soothed. “It’s okay, he needs to get a bandage on that, like I need to get gauze on this, yeah?”

She brushed her fingertips against his forearm. He whimpered again, obviously out of it.

Jason forced himself to look away; the faster he got this done, the faster he could go back and soothe his brother.

He ripped open a gauze pad package with his teeth, pulling it out quickly and folding it to pack the deep wound on his arm. He pressed it down as best as he could while he grabbed the medical tape in his hand. He caught it on his finger to pull a good size piece off the roll, leaning down and biting it off. He used his middle finger to hold the gauze in place while his thumb and pointer caught the tape on the edge of his skin; he rubbed it to activate the glue before he maneuvered his hand to get the rest of it on.

He rubbed at it while he went over to the cot, climbing by Danny’s good side. He took his remaining hand in his and rubbed circles into the skin.

“You get that good enough, honey?” Agent A asked. Jason wordlessly held up his arm with the bandage on it.

She nodded. “I’m so sorry, boys,” she said lowly. “I should’ve gotten here earlier when I heard they were doing experiments.”

Jason sat there, wordless. It was like everything he’d ever been, everything he’d ever be was sapped from his body. There were no words left in him to say.

She sighed and finished packing his wound. She wrapped it in medical tape.

“I’ll put these away before we leave,” she said, gesturing to the blood blossoms.

Jason nodded.

He watched as she changed her gloves. She made sure the new pair were on securely and had no holes before she cleaned up the flowers. She handled them with care as she put them back into the container and sealed them back up.

He stroked down Danny’s back as the last of the sobs wracked his body. He comforted the other boy as easily as he did breathing; it wasn’t something he had to think about.

Soon, Danny was passed out in his arms. When Agent A was done cleaning up, she pulled the gloves off and washed her hands thoroughly. She attempted to pick Danny up.

“I’ve got him,” was the only thing Jason could say.

“Hon, he’s your size. You can’t carry him to your room comfortably,” she tried to reason with him.

Jason shook his head, gathering Danny up anyways. He rested the other boy’s head on his shoulder and put him on his lap, making sure he had him in his grip before hopping down himself. “I got him,” he repeated softly.

She looked at him sadly. “I know you have every reason not to trust me, especially considering what happened today,” she said, voice quiet, “But just so you know, you can ask me for help. I’m not like the others; I won’t hurt you for no good reason.”

Jason nodded mutely. He followed the agent out as she led him back down the labyrinth of halls; the twists and turns they took felt like he’d made them centuries ago instead of... a few hours, max.

When they got to their room, she helped Jason get Danny safely laid down on the cot.

Before she left, she pulled something out of her bag. “These are for you,” she said quietly. “I believe you two are still human, and you must be feeling some big feelings. I’m giving these to you.”

She pressed two notebooks, one red and one blue, into his hand. “These are blank journals. You can hide them in the cupboard under the cabinets. I have a couple pens with me, here-”

She pulled out two of the clickable sharpie pens. Jason looked at them a moment before taking them. “Thank you,” he said softly.

She cupped his cheek. “I was going to give them to you two today when I got in; I’m sorry it had to be under these circumstances. I have to go now,” she started towards the door, “But I hope you use them. Oh!”

She faced him fully, standing by the door. “I was cleaning in here a bit earlier and noticed the empty water bottles. I filled them up for you guys; they’re in the cupboard. I also got a few snacks for you.”

With that, she left. He looked at the journals.

He walked over to the counter, setting them down along with the pens. He crouched down.

She had cleared out the bits and bobs that had been shoved into the cabinet and had their water bottles full of water, as promised. She’d also put a case of water in there, something she hadn’t mentioned. She had a variety of different fruit jerkies, cliff bars and such in with them.

He decided to hide some of the food in his belt. He knew what it was like to be given something and have it taken away; some of the foster families he’d been stuck with before Bruce hadn’t exactly been kind.

He felt vaguely... bad, for not trusting her. Then again, she’d never given them a reason to trust her.

He could talk to Danny about the journals later; about what they’d use them for, if anything, and the like. He looked up.

He’d spent a great deal of time staring at the ceiling. There wasn’t much else to do; there weren’t exactly board games stuffed in every corner. He’d noticed the tile didn’t look too secure; it looked kind of like a public school’s, with the crumbly kind of long tile that breaks if a rubber ball hits it at the right angle.

He climbed onto the counter, holding onto the cupboards above for balance as he checked the tiles. It wasn’t valuable in terms of escape routes, but it was valuable in terms of a hiding spot. He could easily slip the journals in and out when he wanted to; they just had to be careful about not getting caught.

He slid the journals, pens fit snugly in the spirals, in the cubby hole before taking all the food out of his belt. They were sealed, so he didn’t mind sticking it into the space. He hopped down.

He didn’t dare risk putting the water bottles in the same spot; they would be way too heavy for the tiles to support. He opened the cupboard, grabbing some pineapple jerky and a water bottle before closing it.

He decided to keep most of the food in the cabinet. Agent A might not think much of it if a small amount goes missing at once, but she’ll definitely notice if all of it is gone the next time she checks the cabinet.

The only good part about this place was that the agents had started taking them to the bathroom periodically after the first... accident, after they transformed into their human forms. Most of them still hadn’t stopped to wonder what ‘waste’ they had to expel, but hey, progress.

He opened the jerky and bottle of water. He still didn’t have much in terms of an appetite but after days of living off cliff bars and dealing with his blood sugar lows, he knew he needed something else before he got sick.

He pulled down his mask and ate quickly, draining the water bottle in seconds. He kept vigil by Danny’s side, like a guard dog with something to prove. He put the bottle and the wrapper in the back of the cabinet before taking his post again.

He went over the information in his head. He was going to let Danny pick which journal he wanted first, but he couldn’t wait to write all his ideas down.

His fingers ghosted the pouch he’d stuck the small gun in. He’d fiddled with it a few times, but he still wasn’t sure how to tell Danny about it-

He exhaled. He used to be so good about not calling civilian names in the field, even in his head. Batman had always expressed so much emphasis on the importance of secret identities and the like, and here he was, messing all of that up. He truly had become a different person.

In a way he was glad they didn’t have a mirror. Sure, he was certain his hair was a mess and it’d be nice to wash his face, but beyond that he wasn’t sure he wanted to look at himself.

The longer they were here, the more he could pick out the ways he’d changed. He used to be able to keep his civilian life and night life separate; he used to think better on his feet; he used to be full of scathing comments, the kind that made the person question whether they’d even been insulted or not.

He used to-

He paused. He hadn’t exercised once since they got here. The idea hit him like a wall of bricks.

Who was he anymore? His own bile mixed with the pineapple jerky in the back of his throat, making a rancid combination.

He was acting like he’d already given up. He... he wasn’t Robin anymore. He could never go back to being Robin when he got back.

He couldn’t be Jason Todd. Jason Todd couldn’t deal with this situation. But what to call himself?

Sparrow? No, that didn’t sound like a good fit. Swallow? Nope, his brother’s name was Dick, he’d never hear the end of it from Barbara.

How did Dick pick his names again?... That’s right. His parents had called him Robin, and Superman had told him a Kryptonian tale about Nightwing and... Flamebird? He thinks? When he was looking to move out of the role. He briefly considered it before remembering Flamebird was Nightwing’s romantic partner.

He thought about it for a few more minutes. Bruce got his name because he was afraid of bats. Dick got his... honoring his parents. He paused for a moment.

The only reason Bruce got in the game was because his parents were gunned down in front of him. Dick went in trying to avenge his parent’s death. They both did this in their memory.

Willis and Sheila were never his parents, not in the way that mattered. His papa, Bruce, was still alive. He thought about Catherine, the old tales she used to tell him.

Her favorite author had been Jane Austen. She didn’t have many actual favorites in life; she felt in extremes, either loving something or hating it. The few times she actually had a favorite of something and stuck with it, Jason listened.

Her favorite bird had always been a cardinal.

He thought about it for a minute. He did look good in red.

If he didn’t like it later, he could change it. He wasn’t sure why he had a chance at this life; everything suggested he shouldn’t be sitting here, still somewhat alive right now. He was getting out of here, and he was doing it for his mom.

Cardinal thought back to when he first started training with the bats. Batman and Alf had him doing basic exercises daily.

He started out with squats, pushing his muscles and seeing where he was.

He wasn’t going to sit around hoping someone would come along. He wasn’t a baby robin that had been pushed out of the nest.

He and Phantom were going to get out of here.

#dc robin #ailesswhumptober2023 #jason todd #danny fenton #danny phantom #robin #dp x dc #batman #ailess whumptober day sixteen #kite flies over the nightingale nest

[iu-jjang]

[FANCAFE] 220923 From.IU - To uaenas returning to their daily lives

Hello uaenas,

I’m on the plane now.

I woke up from a nap and everyone else is sleeping. There’s still four hours left for the flight. I had a pretty good sleep on the plane so my condition is good and perhaps because I’m in mid-air, I’m feeling emotional and opened my memo pad (T/L note: notepad app) to write a letter to uaenas.

Including myself, our uaenas would have returned to their one-two (T/L note: routine) daily lives after a very festival-like weekend.. (some of us may still have our souls wandering about Jamsil 😌)

How is IU doing? What’s she thinking about now that the concert is over? Is she happy? Sad?

I thought some of you might be curious about that keke so I decided to share with uaenas my epilogue for a concert after 3 years.

What I regretted the most was that I wasn’t able to talk to uaenas much because the concert runtime was a bit shorter than my usual concerts. I wanted to see the audiences’ faces a bit more and take my time to ask everyone how things are, but it felt short compared to the long wait right? 🥲 ( I even thought it would be fun to have a talk concert to just exchange conversations with uaenas for 2 hours.)

Despite the hot weather, everyone cheered hard beneath their masks and sang along and even if they looked a little tired, made eye contact with me with smiling expressions like they were about to cry, as if we made a promise and that was very very very veryyyyy beautiful to me, I was so so so touched and even now, I really really really want to see that again!!

I felt like your expressions were telling me, “I’m just here to see you. It’s great for us to be here together. You don’t need to try too hard,”

so I really did my best 🔥🔥😡🔥🔥keke

That’s something I wanted to tell the audience too. Ah as I’m writing this, is this the reason why all of you cheered so hard? 🫢 Trying to be considerate towards each other actually stimulated (me) further?? 🫢🫢kekeke It was the best, seriously. Thank you for showing the best audience manners. Also, I’m not just saying for the sake of saying this, but all of you sing so well… it’s crazy… That’s really the pride of my concert! Perfect gender ratio, perfect audience sing-along.. You’re going to even harmonise with each other next time right.. 🥹

Ah shall I tell you something really amazing? Among all my concerts, I suffered the least!! backlash from this concert.

There’s almost no feeling of emptiness or loneliness. Rare, isn’t it? It was the biggest scale concert that I had prepared for the longest time. But it’s not like I feel refreshed or relieved either.. It just feels like I came back from a really exciting amusement park last weekend? “I’ve got to go there again next time~~ My friends enjoyed it too, ah it was really fun😙” that sort of feeling keke Of course, from Monday to Tuesday, I was totally drained. 🫠

I spent two days in a dreamy state no matter how much I slept and it felt like I wasn’t getting hydrated enough no matter how much I drank. On Wednesday, I came back to my senses and read some concert reviews and news articles that felt awesome, the fancams that some people risked being thrown out of the concert venue to film.. actually filming is not allowed, though honestly I had a look at some of the very well-taken fancams (But Edam is working hard to edit some video.. coughcoughclipbeuraycough nexxxxtttweektheysaidsomethingwouldbeoutclipcough..

The Good Day stage looks honestly stunning in 4K video though… I hope it survives (the editing process) 🥺)

For this concert in particular, I saw many reviews saying, “I was really happy.” Seeing the traces one by one left behind from the most magnificent weekend in my life, rather than feeling empty and sad, I myself was surprised by how I was honestly feeling happy, that’s how absolutely happy I felt!! 🥹

I was glad that my family (especially my dad), people close to me and the staff who have been there with me throughout almost all my concerts were very satisfied with the outcome and many people said the fanchants, audience singing and lightsticks were amazing too, which made me feel very!! proud🐥

As I was preparing for the concert, it made me feel particularly small, so I was really worried that I would feel empty after the concert.. but I felt like all the gaps were filled up after that instead. The same goes for my confidence!

I’ve mentioned it a few times, but this concert is really a concert that really a lot of people worked hard for.

During the wrap-up party after the concert, many people cried.

Those who believed in me and suggested the Seoul Olympic Stadium concert venue at the start, the production team with a greater ambition than me and turned many wishes into reality, my band, dancers and orchestra members that I exchange support with by eye contact, without moving our lips, Edamies who worked overtime for two months without complaint to prepare the greatest concert atmosphere of all time, our music director and console team who find ways no matter what to protect my self-esteem whenever I lose confidence, my talented hair makeup and styling team lightning quick fingers and magic touch, my security team that breaks into a sweat to give their full material and emotional support beyond their duties and the concert staff running around to ensure that the show goes smoothly whether in the rain or sun..

Perhaps they even felt more pressure than me as they made preparations. Everyone else was crying except me..🥹

It was not just the love I received from the audience on the concert day, but as I was preparing for the concert that I really felt the consideration and love that I have been receiving, which made me feel sorry and grateful and emotional.

That’s why even after the concert, there’s no way for emptiness to make it’s way into me, I’m in a densely filled and fulfilled state!! 🔥

Ah I spent two hours typing this..!

I’ll continue after having some of the inflight meal!!

(I had the braised mackerel.

And I had some ramen just now too!

My appetite is coming back!!🔥🔥🔥)

Ah now that I’ve had my meal, we’re almost reaching Italy.

I’m lucky that my schedule allows me to spend a few more days in Italy with my family after my activities in Italy. I’ll share any pretty pictures I manage to take while in Italy!!

I’ve got to upload this post the moment I reach. It’s late at night now in Korea, so most of you are asleep, so have a good sleep and I hope you enjoy reading this post later on your way to work or to school. Those who are still awake, please go to bed after reading this post. 😌😌

During my 30th anniversary concert in future, we would gather and be like, “Back then! We were crazy~”, “I mean, 40,000 people sang Love Poem together then keke” and I think we made some great memories there.

Our heroic exploits and love stories

We’re collecting them well right? 🔥

I think many uaenas would be having post concert withdrawal symptoms, meeting for a short time after such a long wait.

As promised during the concert, our next meeting won’t take as long, so don’t feel too sad. Until the day we meet again, take care of yourself ok?!

Thanks so much, uaena

I’ll be back soon!!

I’m going into transit now.

My fireflies, please have a peaceful night ❤️

Translated by IUteamstarcandy

#IU #fancafe #from.IU

[denim-devil]

• Breathless | Michael Emerson •

Michael Emerson x Male reader

Summary — Waking up to the pitter patter of rain on the roof and a phone call from his mother had his brain on fire, but you were there to give a much needed stress reliever…

Warnings — Tired!Michael, Angry!Michael, phone calls, NSFW, Kissing, Blowjob, Deepthroating, Hair pulling, Soft!Michael, Praises, Pure fluff

A/N — EEK my first smut with my best boi, Enjoy!

{THIS ISNT EDITED} - Sorry for the spelling mistakes

Santa Carla had been a treat for Michael, meeting you was the best thing to ever happen to him, although consequences of getting involved with the wrong people still ridiculed his body, but his hunger, his inhumane needs had calmed with you by his side.

The usual sunny weather was replaced with dull cloudiness, the pitter patter on the roof an indicator of rain. Although it brought a sense of uneasiness, it also had you relaxing into Michael’s side, his chest slowly fluctuating.

You smile, knowing fully well it was Saturday morning, no work, no errands to run, just bed, wrapped up in covers and Michael’s arms, watching the clear droplets of water slip down the glass of the window.

You glance to his chest, using your fingers, you run the tips along the define muscles, raking them back and forth over his smooth skin. You watch him stir, a small smirk making it’s way onto his face.

He looked soft, sleepy, but all the more sexy. You chuckle before pecking him on the cheek.

“Morning baby”

You look up into his baby blues, his tongue licking at his supple lips.

“Morning to you sunshine”

The nickname never failed to make you blush, which always gave Michael a sense of pride, practically making him want to boast, show you off.

Immediately you both turn your heads to the door, watching Sam run through with the phone in his hands, holding it out to a very sleepy, now moody Michael.

“Michael! Mom is on the phone!” Sighing he groans, rolling into you, burying his face into your shoulder. You gave Sam a sympathetic look, both of you knowing the daytime wasn’t good for his…type.

“Sammy give it here” you whisper softly. Sam does, handing over the black phone quickly before twisting on his heel and running out of the room, he’s still a little uncertain around Michael, but it’s a work in progress.

“Hey Miss Lucy, can I help?”

She sighs knowing full well Michael was still in bed, like he had been for the past week since his change.

“Is Michael awake? I need to talk to him”

Michael kisses at your neck before pulling away from you, playfully snatching the phone from you before pressing it to his ear.

“Hey mom-“

“Michael please can you look after Sam tonight, I have a date…”

You raise your eyebrows, glancing over to Michael. You purse your lips, a annoyed sigh escaping his lips making it obvious to his mother that he really…really didn’t want to.

“Mom-“

“Michael…I never get to-“

There was a long pause before he reiterated himself, putting a fake smile on.

“Fine…”

Immediately Miss Emerson’s voice perked up, a couple of “thank you’s” from her initially ended the phone call, leading Michael to lightly throw it to the bottom of the bed.

Turning his head, you pull him into a kiss, a slow gentle one which calmed his annoyed physique.

“Hey…atleast you have me…” you trail off, pressing little kisses around his forehead which had Michael let a loose chuckle out, swatting gently at your face.

“Atleast I do have you…” he dips, his lips hovering over your own. You push yourself into him, your hand exploring his lower body, connecting your lips together.

It’s soft, but filthy, your hand squeezing at the bulge forming in his boxers. He groans, his tongue sliding in to clash with your own, encouraging you to break the kiss, and sink underneath the covers, watching Michael’s lip turn up into a smirk.

“Right now?” He questions, his smirk still present. You nod seductively before your fingers continue to squeeze at his bulge, the white boxers he sported a little to tight now.

He’s practically jelly in your hands, his bulge impossible growing still. You just had to get to it, mouth watering as you hungrily peel back the material from his cock.

You whimper once it’s on show, the girth slapping onto his stomach. You both take a minute to admire the other before you pick him up, holding him up, allowing your tongue to lap at the leaking tip.

“Fuck-“

You smile, before redirecting your tongue downwards, tracing the thick veins covering his cock.

“You deserve it baby…”

He falters at your words, his thighs twitching once your hands smooth over the slight hairy skin. It only took so much for Michael to get immersed, especially when you were taking all of his concentration.

Only then, once you get his full attention you wrap you lips around his thick tip, engulfing most inches, the stretch of your mouth slightly burning.

Michael grasped at the sheets underneath him, his knuckles turning white. You were so fucking good at it he could hardly control himself, his hips.

“So pretty…so so pretty sweetheart”

Proceeding to pull back, you pull off with a pop, going back to lapping at his base, maintaining the eye contact.

“You know” you whisper before proceeding to lick upward to the tip, watching Michael’s head drop back into his pillow, his mouth forming into a “o” shape.

The feeling of you was overwhelming but in the best way ever, especially once you took most him back into your mouth, hollowing your cheeks until your nose settled deeply into the trimmed pubes seated at his base.

You pull back, your throat contracting around his girth. Saliva leaks from the corners of your mouth, covering the entirety of his length.

“I crave you daily…I crave you every damn second” you whisper, slightly out of breath.

Michael glances down at you before groaning, watching you slap his cock on your tongue, he was already so damn close.

“And I crave you to…so fucking much, shit-“

You blush, the heat rising up in your cheeks unexpectedly, you nuzzle at his balls before returning to wrap your hands around his girth, and wrapping your mouth over his tip.

You feel him twitch repeatedly letting you know just how close he is. You begin to swallow around him. His hands fly to your hair, holding you down, allowing him to slowly thrust up into your throat.

You continuously gag, allowing Michael to get himself off. It was enough to finish him off, the coil in the pit of his stomach snapping, finally cumming.

“Baby- that’s it- fuck”

You let him hold you down, riding him through his high, his blissed out state nothing short of sexy, heavenly even.

You choke around him, his load filling your mouth, your lips clutching to keep everything inside. You swallow around him, most of his load staying inside.

You look up to Michael, noticing how his chest once again fluctuated quickly. You pull up and away from his cock, your saliva and his cum coating the now semi soft muscle.

Nothing could prepare Michael for the kisses you pressed to his body, starting from his belly button and ending at his chin.

“Your the best…always make me feel good…c'mere” he pecks you on the lips, gently before holding your face, taking in your features, from the saliva on your chin to the two spots cum on your cupids bow.

“Your so fucking handsome”

You giggle before pulling away from, moving your lips to his ear

“You really think we’re finished? Sam’s downstairs getting breakfast baby…we have time”

Michael twitched once again, this time…Michael was incharge, which is why the kisses kept coming.

{Please enjoy this messy fic}

[felixstudios]

Head cannons on how the managers would react getting a kiss?

Random Corporate Clash Headcanons, Kissing Them Edition

This assumes it's their partner in an established relationship kissing them! Since otherwise that's pretty weird to just go around kissing people... LOL. Also for Flint and Graham since they're canonically dating the partner is each other and not a vague unknown entity.

Duck Shuffler

🎰He's definitely a bit shocked about the fact they actually kissed him and he will blush

🎰Kinda stammers out a "Wow, thath wath magical!"

🎰Tries to do it for himself. Unfortunately, his facial anatomy does not comply.

Prethinker

🧠He blushes REALLY dark and becomes a stuttering mess

🧠Hides away and barely manages to stutter out that someone as smart as him doesn't have time for things like kissing

🧠He doesn't move away or anything, though... if anything he moves closer to them

Derrick Man

🛢️He kisses them back

🛢️Doesn't really get flustered or anything in general, so it's not like super embarrassing for him

Deep Diver

🫧She also kisses them back

🫧Probably holds them is his arms too since he's more on the affectionate side and not the most easily flustered

🫧If it did manage to fluster him, he'd kinda stutter a bit

Rainmaker

⛈️Her face goes RED

⛈️She becomes a flustered mess lol

Land Acquisition Architect

🚦Either one of two things will happen

🚦A: He gets kinda flustered and looks at the ground like "Aw [partner's name] yer so sweet..."

🚦B: He gets kinda flustered and is determined for some payback

Gatekeeper

⚔️Complete stuttering mess at first

⚔️Eventually gathers her bearings and gets revenge in the form of her own affection

⚔️If they remind her that she's not usually very affectionate, she will get flustered again and tell them to shut up

Witch Hunter

🔱He scoffs and tries to make an excuse to seem like he didn't enjoy it

🔱If he's pressed further, he will eventually admit that he actually liked the kiss but will say it in such big words that it's hard to pick up on

🔱Almost never returns the affection in kind because his own pride and ego gets in his way

Public Relations Representative

🧱Gets pretty flustered from it

🧱But even when he's flustered, he's still pretty confident in a relationship and returns fire with his own kisses {or at least whatever he can do since I imagine it's just him putting his teeth up against them LOL}

🧱He's great at schmoozing and would 100% do that too just to watch his partner get more flustered than him

Bellringer

🔔He just becomes a massive flirt

🔔I don't know if he'd necessarily be able to kiss back but he will try. He will find something and he will try it

Multislacker

🥪Not really much of a reaction

🥪"Oh... I guess you're feeling pretty affectionate right now."

🥪Might give them a hug or a cuddle and go back to wasting time working very hard.

Mouthpiece

☎️Calls them a sweetheart

☎️Does whatever her version of kissing back would be

☎️Offers to make them something or just cuddles them

Major Player

🎹At first he's a bit taken by surprise

🎹Then he either becomes a huge flirt or stays in his semi embarrassed state

🎹Either way, he's retuning the favor plus with extra affection

Firestarter

🔥Complete stuttering mess

🔥Tells Graham that he's really sweet

🔥Hesitantly asks if he wants to cuddle or anything

Plutocrat

🌑Doesn't really show much of a reaction

🌑Kinda just makes a, "Hmph," sound and goes back to whatever he was doing

🌑He will surprise them later with... something. Might be a gift {store bought of course} or might be the rare coveted Cosmo affection

Treekiller

🪵He laughs a bit

🪵Retuns the favor

🪵Is secretly a bit flustered, but good luck getting him to admit it or even show it

Chainsaw Consultant

🪚Gets SUPER quiet and looks away

🪚Pulls them in for a cuddle and stays like that for a while with them

Featherbedder

💤Smiles and murmurs something sweet to them

💤Says she's tired and invites them to take a nap with her

💤Alternatively, he might offer to do something low impact and quiet like playing a calming board game

Pacesetter

👟Is actually pretty flustered, but forces it aside so he can grin even wider and tell Flint he's super cute {and 'hot,' get it?}

👟Would 100% kiss him back

👟Might also find it necessary to brag to the whole world about Flint. For the thousandth time

#toontown #ttcc #corporate clash #toontown corporate clash #headcanon #ttcc headcanons

[house-of-kolchek]

Hello, I was wondering if I could request a Jason Kolchek x female reader who, during an ambush against the vampires, ended up losing an eye and is learning to cope and adapt to it. As well as maybe being insecure about it. If not that's okay, thank you!

HELLO! I hope this lives up to expectations! I loved this idea and it was really fun to write!!

Insecurities

Jason Kolchek x Reader

please forgive me I did not edit this one bit

Word Count: 2k

MASTERLIST

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

Camp Slayer didn’t feel the same after what happened. 

It was in the way you looked at your comrades, some missing, some having displayed sides of themselves you never would have imagined. Whenever your gaze fell on Eric, that angry bubble flared in your chest. The fact that he ignored Nick’s pleas for help in that godforsaken temple, even when you heard it clear as day, threw him straight to the top of your “eat shit and go fuck yourself” list. Based on similar reactions from your teammates, he’d ended up topping their lists too. 

But it was also in the way you felt trapped. Forced to look at white plastic walls, and speak to mounds of rubber and gas masks instead of faces. You could practically taste the distrust and hostility from the operatives as they moved in for a swift and silent clean up. In fact, there was a small little voice in the back of your head that felt threatened, as if these people wouldn’t hesitate to throw you under the bus, or take any extreme measures to ensure your story didn’t get out. If the NDA was any indication at least. 

But after all that. It was in the way you suddenly lacked any sense of depth perception.

“Fuck!” You grunted, reaching down to cradle your now throbbing toe. “I could have sworn that doorway was further than that.”

And then something touched your shoulder.

“FUCK!” Your voice grew louder and higher in pitch, startled by the sudden presence rounding your left side. Nick jumped at the same time, raising a hand out in front of him. The both of you let out mirrored sighs as you processed that yes, it was an actual human standing in front of you - not one of those horrific alien-monster things.

“You alright?” He asked first, his voice calm and laced with what you knew was pity. You wanted to be angry. To scream don’t fucking pity me! But in all honesty, you were too tired, and Nick was too good of a person for you to really tap in to that hostility. 

“Yeah, ‘m fine,” you sighed. “You just startled me. If you can help it, try not to come up on that side.”

Nick’s gaze flickered between your eyes, looking more pained as he took in the mounds of bandages still wrapped around your face, leading from your hairline, down to your left cheekbone. 

“Shit, I didn’t even think,” he cursed, shuffling over to your right side. “Sorry.”

“It’s alright, Nick. I’m not even used to it yet.” You couldn’t force your voice to carry any sense of optimism. You were too tired, too angry, and too buried up in your own grief.

This time, you saw his hand coming as it rested on your shoulder again, a silent sign of comfort. For a moment, you gave in to the warmth, allowing yourself to share those dark thoughts with your grieving friend. It always struck you in those moments that you weren’t the only one who’d endured trauma. Everyone had been down in those caves, had one of those experiences, and left a part of themselves down below the surface.

Yours had just been a physical part.

Nick was silent as he walked you to a common area set up for you and the other survivors. Your pride wouldn’t allow you to say it, but you were grateful when he tapped your arm, pointing out any objects that were maybe, slightly, closer than you initially thought.

He must have caught your grumble, because he reached to squeeze your shoulder again. 

“You’ll get used to it. It just takes time.” 

He chuckled as you shot him a sarcastic glare. 

“Yeah yeah, I know. Worst, most generic advice ever,” he prattled. “Shut up.”

And this time, for the first time in days, you both cracked a grin as you parted to sit at separate benches across the room. You stumbled slightly, huffing to yourself at the new bruises that would certainly arise across your shins before finally finding a seat.

You barely saw the new figure approaching, startling slightly as they took a seat next to you

Jason’s lips had just parted before you were speaking again.

“Jesus, you marines and your insistence on light footing,” you hissed, and you knew he noticed the way you refused to meet his gaze. 

It didn’t seem to bother him, as he let out a breathy chuckle. You could just make out his clasped hands from the corner of your eye as he rested them across the table.

“Still not used to it, hm?” He asked, and you turned your head a fraction towards him, shaking your head. You didn’t need to see his expression fall, hearing a low exhale from his nose.

You hated the tense, awkward air between the two of you now. What had happened to the pair you used to be? When you shared countless inside jokes, challenging each other not to laugh during briefings. Down in those caves, it felt like something had changed between you two. 

And not just the obvious. 

During that ambush - when you’d pushed him aside, taking the hit that ended up losing you your eye - that’s when something had really changed. You weren’t sure if it was some strange twist on survivor’s guilt. Or maybe the gory sight of you, clutching your shredded face with both hands while you screamed. But after that moment, Jason had truly seemed afraid in your presence. He’d watched you like a hawk, his brows tight and his eyes wide the entire time. 

“You don’t have to make anything up to me, Jason.” you sighed, breaking the awkwardness in the air.

Or at least, you thought it would break it. 

“What do you mean?”

Cringe.

Things were racing too fast in your head, the same sentence you wanted to say wording itself in fifteen different ways. How were you supposed to choose? How could you tell him that you missed what you were, you hated this new distance between you, wanted that bright smile of his back.

You sighed. 

“Nothing. Nevermind.”

Pressing the heel of your palm into your good eye, you willed your growing headache away. Jason simply rested a palm across your upper back. You stiffened slightly, questioning how to react until he began to rub small circles into your back. Finally letting your walls fall, your shoulders sagged, and you found yourself relaxing in his comfort. 

“‘m sorry,” you muttered, drawing a breath of a chuckle from the man.

“Ah, it’s alright. I got used to your outbursts ages ago,” he chuckled. And as you peeked over to him, catching that teasing grin of his, you felt a spark of normalcy return. 

Enjoying that familiar warmth, you stayed quiet, trying to prolong it as long as possible. It felt easier with your eyes closed. It was just dark then, much harder to notice the vast difference in your sight. Especially with Jason’s hand against your back acting as an extra distraction. 

“(Last Name)!”

You jumped at the unfamiliar voice, raising your head and blinking away the dizziness from your abrupt movement. Turning to face the voice, you saw another figure in a hazmat suit, standing stiff at the doorway with a clipboard in hand. 

“Right,” you sighed, and Jason’s hand fell back to the table. “Checkup on the eye. I should be getting a patch now.”

As you rose to your feet, Jason followed you, offering an arm for you to lean on.

“Lemme help you get there,” he uttered, low and soft.

Who were you to say no.

—

“It looks fucking terrible.”

“No, it doesn’t.”

“It totally does,” you grumbled, keeping your head turned towards the wall. Jason’s hand was still against your arm, gently tugging you out of the way as you approached a collapsed pillar. 

He was quiet again, contemplative. Hesitating, you let your arm slip from his grasp, stopping to sit against the cracked stone. 

“What is it?” You took note of the twinge in his voice. A slight pitch that indicated some sort of nervous energy he was trying to withhold. 

You felt like you were walking on eggshells. And you were over it.

“What happened to us?” you demanded, catching the marine off guard. 

“What-”

“Ever since those caves - we haven’t been the same. I feel like we’re just skirting around each other. Like I’m gonna break- or I’m already broken- I don’t even know.” You paused for a breath, barely glancing at Jason’s dumbstruck expression. His jaw was near slack as you ranted, his brows furrowing as your voice raised in pitch.

“Is it because I look like this?” 

“What?! No I-”

“Well then what is it!?” you shrieked, and Jason let out a frustrated groan, throwing two hands up to the sky.

“Shit- I dunno!” he huffed, running his hands down the sides of his face. If you were to hazard a guess, it looked like he was fighting some sort of internal battle, in the way his hands flexed and his brows twitched. In an instant, that flare of anger washed away, replaced with a new concern. You shuffled forward a few steps, suddenly scared to touch him.

“Jason?”

“I forgot that you’re not invincible,” he blurted suddenly. “And it scared me.” 

“Why would that scare you?” you asked, earning an incredulous look from under the brim of his cap. 

“Cause the idea of you bein’ gone scares me even more.” He stepped forward, his gaze growing soft. It was so unlike him. He chewed the corner of his lip, reaching to brush a thumb across your cheekbone. Resting his curled fingers under your jaw, you blinked, swallowing down the rush of butterflies that ravaged your stomach. 

You gently turned your head to the side, reaching up to curl your fingers between his. In an instant, he gripped your hand tighter. Seeming to ground himself through your touch, Jason sucked in a heavy breath, whispering your name.

“I don’t really care what you look like - you’re always beautiful and fuck whoever or whatever made you think differently.” He paused for a heavy breath, gently tugging you closer. Close enough that his shirt brushed against the skin of your arm. “Bein’ around you makes me feel great, and all I wanna do is make you laugh and sappy shit like that. Fuck. I dunno how to say this shit.”

You couldn’t help but chuckle, offering a distraction from the tears that threatened to fall at his admission. Leaning your forehead against his chest, you wrapped your arms around his waist, noticing his quiet gasp as he returned the embrace.

“I think I get what you’re trying to say,” you whispered, a ghost of a smile on your lips. “And I feel that way too. Even though I look like a pirate.”

“Hey now, I think the eyepatch looks pretty cool. I’d even dare to say sexy on you,” he rebuffed without hesitation. Curling his fingers under your chin again, he gently lifted your head to meet his gaze, his expression warming at the blush dancing across your cheeks.

“You find pirates sexy?” You asked, raising your brow. The challenge in the air grew thick, and Jason only smiled, reaching up to brush his thumb across the skin just below the patch covering your eye.

“Aye.”

Your snort was cut short as he dropped his head, pressing a kiss against your forehead. And another against your cheekbone. And another against the edge of your eyepatch, your nose, and the corner of your lips. That sharp spark of warmth spread from your cheeks, turning into a frustrated heat in your chest as he placed another kiss against your jaw.

“Aren’t you supposed to have good aim?” You huffed, before placing a hand on the back of his neck and directing his lips to meet yours.

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

Tags!

@yellowroses-world @buttermykolchek @kawaiiwitch224 @kassiekolchek22 @yeslieutenant @lorebite @tangytastyflatboard @meadows-of-light @boristhepineapple @thedreamingfish99 @shinydixon @crazymissy22

#house of ashes #house of ashes x reader #jason kolchek #jason kolchek x reader

[sweetpastillas]

ahaha i just watched MoM :)

here are my fresh thoughts on it

visually, the film is stunning. the thing about doctor strange films is that the film production is absolutely allowed to go ham with the cinematography. mystical shit, bitch, absolutely weird. it was why the first was my favorite, and why i anticipated this one (probably not as much as i did for nwh, but what can i say lmao spiderman funny i am tired college freshman epic !!!)

like some of my favorite shots or scenes were definitely homages to horror films. the reflection/mirror dimension parts going for the ring, and the tunnel chase scene being what i think is an homage to the shining (?). a lot of those are scattered throughout MoM, and i thought those were really cool. thank u mr raimi

however

plot-wise? not good.

uhhh

lemme just narrow it down to some points,

wherein the screenwriters, evidently,:

did NOT pick up on the nuances of stephen and christine's pre-canon lovers-to-friends arc in his first film

surely, only solely watched the what if? series to put in the concept of strange feeling more romantic love than he actually did in the mcu (to be fair, ol' cabbagepatch really sells it well, it's the VA expertise in him)

did NOT watch wandavision,

OR took away from it the idea that wanda only became a... questionably redeemable villain. yknow, after she took down a witch who would only hoard and harness her powers to herself without the guarantee of westview being set free

ignored the fact that wanda herself imposed seclusion and self-exile after westview, because That is how she learned to let go and so that she wouldnt hurt anyone anymore

DEFINITELY ignored the fact that people like monica, darcy, and jimmy acknowledged that she was at the peak of her grief, and knew she was ultimately good underneath all of that

kinda forgot about billy and tommy's powers, and how if they had used them against the scarlet witch in defense by the end, it would likely still make the point they wanted it to

uhhh once again denied a character who has suffered throughout her life even the tiniest sliver of a redemption arc OR real mental help that can be talked about. she doesnt visibly come out of there alive, there's no small seconds of her facing justice but getting proper healing and adjustment that she needed. they literally said that the darkhold (if i am spelling it right, edits abound) corrupts the user. ok, and as the scarlet witch, a literal nexus being, one of the most powerful people out there, couldnt be given the chance to gradually overcome that by the end?,, what is the point of establishing her as a key figure if she justs becomes the big bad to be vanquished at the end of the day?

also lol skipped over mordo being "the guy that tries to kill doctor strange every now and again", like he didnt have a large role in the first film

and many other weak points that may come to mind later on

so, basically, you mean to tell me that throughout all of wanda maximoff's life in the mcu, she never gets another channel for her grief, and that is how exactly she dies? her story doesn't become one of those that essentially say, you get to carve your own destiny and your position or actions or whatever people say dont make you completely evil. no, no, it doubles down on the fact that she's a wicked woman, or turned into one because she lost her kids.

also its crazy because.. idk if it's the angry wanda stan in me right now just after watching the movie, but i cannot remember what stephen's role was. was his arc set on becoming the guardian and mentor for america chavez? was it another lesson for him on how actions have consequences and so does his pride? or was it solely hinged on love and want for christine? hm. he's the titular character.

great cg tho thats what im saying, and all these actors still bring all theyve got to the table despite the weak script.

honestly, way back at the beginning before more details of the film's production were announced, i thought mordo would be the antagonist. y'know, because they alluded to that in the first film's end credits scenes AND because he just is in the comics. like he'd do something or find a way to fuck up sorcerers and magic in the multiverse, because he literally said "no more sorcerers" or smth like that after his disillusionment with the ancient one, so it would be up to a doctor strange/scarlet witch teamup to stop him. and ofc wanda and stephen could have their debate on who's more villainized and why, but still have them be on the same ground. you would expect wanda to be tempted by mordo, with the promise of her children or universes where she's with them and her husband and her brother, but she wouldnt be the total rushed villain and redemption would at least still be on the table. stuff like that, yknow.

:))

but no. that is not what happened, indeed.

(altho john krasinski as reed richards is cool in concept. it fits, and id like to see more of him in that role ngl.

sir patrick stewart as professor x... definitely done dirty with his quick death [as is the case with all members of the illuminati, why are they in charge if they can get taken out like that] but otherwise extremely cool to show his impact And his powers. you could feel that he's got the heart when he went into wanda's mind for a bit. i personally havent watched the x-men films in his and sir ian mckellen's era, and yet somehow because ive got flashes of knowing about it from childhood i get to feel like ive missed him. thats fun)

so did i enjoy it? kinda, yea. a 6-7/10

would i watch it again? only for the sheet music battle scene because i want to properly hear the soundtrack to see how it fits the moment.

otherwise, no. i'd rather rewatch the first doctor strange film, wandavision, and any other fan fix-its.

#multiverse of madness #multiverse of madness spoilers #wanda maximoff #doctor strange #doctor strange multiverse of madness #mcu #lord am i gonna sleep today #i cant believe this film made me regret not doing my homework instead #scarlet witch #wandavision #fresh thoughts out here

[saucy-mesothelioma]

Meso's Mixtapes: Handplates Gaster

In honor of the Handplates comic by @zarla-s finally coming to an end, I decided to finally get back to work on my Mixtapes and do one for their interpretation of W.D. Gaster as a sort of thank you. But before I do, I want to talk for a moment about what this comic has meant to me. I was around 12 or so when I first got into Undertale. I was a pretty sheltered kid and wasn't really allowed to play video games, so I watched playthroughs and listened to the ost all from YouTube. And it was through this that I came across the dubbed version of the comic. I was instantly captivated by the acting and the editing, but the thing that pulled me in the most was the emotion behind the storytelling. Even when I was younger, I had no interest in any sort of AUs, but this one not only caught my attention, but held it in a vice. I binged the entirety of what was available of the comic on YouTube twice, and didn't tire of it one bit. But of course, as the years went by and my interest in Undertale faded, I stopped watching. It wasn't until a few months ago while scrolling through Tumblr that I found the comic again and that it was still being updated. So I picked up the comic right from the beginning and read it all. And to my surprise, it was just as incredible as when I read it all those years ago. To this day, Handplates has been the only AU out of really any media that I enjoy, and I'm not even the biggest fan of Undertale anymore. The fact that an AU has captured my attention longer than the base game itself really speaks to how well written this comic is. I would (and have) genuinely suggest it to people who aren't even into Undertale, specifically for how this comic is written. Unfortunately, I was unable to interact with the community due to no access to social media as well as rediscovering the comic so late, but I've fully enjoyed looking through the archives and reading all the asks, extra comics, and posts about it; it really made me feel like a part of the community after all. I don't know what Zarla has planned for the future, but whether it be little one-off Handplates comics, other Undertale stories, or even a bigger project in something else entirely, I will be eagerly tuning in. This comic has meant a lot to me, and I couldn't be more thankful. Now, without further ado, the playlist.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Villain by Stella Jang (There are a few different ways you could interpret this song, but for the sake of this mixtape, I see it as the idea of "you can be doing something good, but doing something evil to achieve it still makes you the villain". As the song says, there are many shades of grey; "the person I love the most could be a dog to somebody else" and "the person you hate the most is somebody's beloved child" perfectly explain this. It's the basis of "the ends don't justify the means", which is the exact opposite of the ideology Gaster follows over the course of the comic. Although he does this for the better of monster society, he is still aware of the fact that what he is doing is deplorable; that's part of what makes him such an interesting character to examine.) Rule #27 - Drunk on Pride by Fish in a Birdcage Dying Day by Landlady Dentist! by Alan Menken (I had to include this after Zarla mentioned it in a post a while back, and I gotta say it really does fit in a hilarious way) Wernher Von Braun by Tom Lehrer (I debated on whether or not put this one on the list, but in my opinion the line "'Once the rockets are up, who cares where they come down? That's not my department!' says Wernher von Braun" does sound like something he would say; sort of that mentality of "Hey, I did my job. That's not my problem." he showed during scene where the worker was requesting that handrails be added to the CORE. Plus it's Tom Lehrer.) Priest by William Crighton My Friends by Steven Sondheim (The only reason I included this song was because my headcanon voice for Gaster is Len Cariou. Although I will say that my friend also suggested Sam Neill specifically because of the scenes in Jurassic Park where Alan meets Tim and Lex and when he explains how the raptors hunted to that kid at the dig site since they both seem like something he'd do and I stand by that assessment 1000%. Both of those are perfect to me.)

Dead Man's Party by Oingo Boingo Euthanasia by Will Wood Alles im Griff (auf dem sinkenden schiff) by Udo Jürgens ("Ich hab alles im griff auf dem sinkenden schiff" loosely translates to "I have everything under control on the sinking ship", and the song is basically about all of these bad things happening to the narrator, and the narrator just bottling it all up and saying "This is fine. I'm totally fine." If that doesn't describe Gaster, then I don't know what does.) Zombie by The Cranberries (Considering what the song is about, I felt like it would also stand as a good representation for the hardships and trauma war can leave . And yes, I know that's not the main theme of the comic, but to me at least, that theme was crucial for how some of the characters developed. Not just Gaster, but Toriel and Asgore too.) Everything You Ever by Joss Whedon Total Recall by pragmaticNihilist (Ok, so this one needs a bit of explaining more so than the others. This song is one of the themes for the character Secily Iopara from the game Snowbound Blood, which is technically a sort of prequel/spinoff from the webcomic Vast Error. At least in my opinion, Gaster and Secily share several defining traits: both are easily consumed by work to the point where it takes a toll on their social life as well as their mental health, they push away the people that care about them in order to make things easier for themselves, they both basically devoted their entire meaning to one person [Asgore and Ahlina respectively], and their life's work was their downfall. I just thought it was really interesting how two characters from completely different stories manage to share so much, and how one was able to succeed in fields where the other character failed. Things like this in media have always been something I've enjoyed, so I felt compelled to include it.) Venetian Blind Man by Will Wood Arsonist's Lullabye by Hozier Good Old Days by Weird Al (I'm sorry but I couldn't resist adding this one. It was way too funny to not. I am so, so sorry. This is the last "not really serious one" I swear.) I'm Not Supposed to Care by Gordon Lightfoot (First off, the opening line is already perfect, but I can definitely see this song as the sort of the encompassing theme for the final pages of the comic when they're on the surface. The people who were Gaster's family have no idea who he is or how much they mean to him, yet he's still more than willing to devote himself to them and their happiness, which we see mainly with him and Asgore. My interpretation of Gaster's interactions with them are perfectly summed up by this song: He feels like he shouldn't care as much as he does because they're no longer who he knew, but he can't help it. They no longer love him, but he still loves them and will do whatever he can to make sure they're happy, even at his own expense [both before falling into the CORE and after]. Gaster sums up the basis of his own mentality perfectly: "As long as you will have me, I will stay.")

#I think this is probably my longest mixtape #but it's also one of my favorites #I hate that it got out so late but I've been dealing with some life problems recently and it was tough getting the energy to finish this #but I finally got it together enough to complete my notes on it #this comic was so worth it though #it really is one of my top favorite comics #thanks for everything Zarla #it was a fantastic journey #please go give this comic a read even if you're not a fan of Undertale #it's more than worth it #meso's mixtapes #gaster #handplates #playlist #long post

[strangesickness]

ooh how about 'shiver' for the ask game?

i actually use "shiver" in my most recent WIP!! (guy who starts new wips every day instead of getting any work done on the old ones), it is about the losers being a group of space pirates :)

i never share writing this early on in the writing process... i wrote this at like 1am a few days ago and it has NOT been edited at all. so uh. OTL

Richie grabs the rim of the sink with his good hand and clumsily pulls himself to his feet. The horrid taste of his dinner reacquainting itself with his mouth begins to recede, that is until he meets his own eyes in the mirror and pulls one side of his mouth back in a wince. There’s a large bruise purpling most of the skin around his left eye and cheek, with how bad it looks at the moment, he dreads to see it an hour from now when it will have turned a sickly brown-green. His skin is pale from months away from the sunny planets, and it’s coated in a shiny layer of sweat. He’s used to below-freezing temperatures, from his time spent orbiting Neptune, but now, back under the sun’s rays for the first time in ages, he feels as though the cold is catching up with him. He’s jittery by nature, there’s typically a shake to his hands as they grip a microphone, but he can’t remember the last time he found himself honest-to-god shivering. Richie’s never been good at fighting, he talks enough shit that you’d think he’d have picked up at least some tricks by now. That he’d have learned something from the endless number of people he’s goaded into a fight, but no, he never stands a chance when using his own two fists. When he was nineteen and had first lost his arm, he’d thought that maybe the shiny new metal one would give him the edge, but it never did. Back then the only thing he had going for him was how flighty he was, he could duck and weave decently quickly, but the arm just slowed him down. Thankfully, eight years later he’s grown into the weight, he’s no longer a lanky kid, and the heft of the arm is balanced pretty decently with the rest of him. He brings it up in front of him so he can look at it through the mirror. The one he’s currently using isn’t his normal one, which is in the workshop with Ben, this is one of his older arms that he keeps laying around as a spare. All of his arms have metal plating, he’s never jumped for the skin look-alikes. When he was younger it was a point of pride, now he’s just tired and scared of change. This one is copper, and after a few too many days sitting through storms on the deck, it has turned a weathered green.

i also found this in the depths of my drive from like? four years ago? so... edgy persona 4 writing from when i was in high school under the cut lol <3 (i love reading my high school writing tbh i was so confident and did not care if my writing was good or bad or edgy or whatever :))

Things erupt briefly, everyone expressing their relief at his in-one-piecedness, until his shadow taps on the microphone and everyone goes quiet. “You should all take a seat.” Yu watches as his friends automatically begin to find chairs then pause and look at him hesitantly. He’s wary, and really doesn’t want to know how in depth his shadow plans to go with this. He tries his best to retain authority when he says, “This will be quick, getting comfortable won’t be necessary.” His shadow fakes offence up on the stage, hand to its forehead like it’s mid TV style feint. “Oh... Well if our dear leader ordains it then...” The childish lilt suddenly leaves it’s voice and it stares at Yu, speaking once again in it’s flat monotone “let’s get right into it.” Yu almost shivers when he sees the malice in its beady eyes.

#posts afflicted with a strange sickness #asks :)