your boys clearly didn't get pope's memo the first time he corrected their attitudes. drabble inspo taken from @t4medicroe's comment 👇🏻
content warning: the eldest son throws a heavy object past reader's head in anger during an argument to intimidate/scare her out of anger. (my account is 18+ MDNI. read at own risk.)
pope cody did everything in his power to be a good, present father for his boys. they did not know a life of thievery, lying and beating their way to the top.
the boys didn't even know what pope did for work, they know he's a businessman who travels a lot. an investor of sorts. pope worked only the best of jobs to make sure you stayed home to keep the boys on a routine, put them thru school, keep appearances in neighborhood, to rewrite what smurf had been narrating since the 70's.
and you'd do it in every lifetime. but these boys, had tempers far worse than you'd ever seen pope or craig's. and they didn't listen.
it was a parallel you'd seen before. craig threatening to break every appliance in smurf's kitchen. you were standing, staring at your oldest as he yelled at you, had you practically cornered in the pantry as you shushed him and told him everything was fine, you'd get what he needed taken care of.
he didn't want to hear it. you've got a a lump in your throat refusing to let you scream for pope when your son grabs a can from the pantry shelf and throws it at the wall behind you.
you're yelling now, screaming at your son to go to his bedroom, "i did not raise you this way, go to your fucking room!"
pope comes rushing in as your eldest stomps away.
"fuckin' hate you & i fuckin' hate this house!" he hollers from over the railing before slamming his bedroom door.
ー
you quickly usher outside with a cigarette between your lips talking pope.
"your son is on thin fucking ice, andrew. i need a break, these attitudes have got to go. they're worse than you and your brothers!" you blow smoke out the side of your mouth with a huff.
"my attitude isn't bad." pope protests, grabbing a drill from the garage.
you scoff and flick your cigarette out.
"just stay put." pope pets down the back of your head as he heads inside.
you soon after hear yelling, you catch bits and pieces,
"if i ever see you so much as raise your voice at your mother again, i will be the only problem you have!"
"you have the best mom in the world, do you understand that?"
"you do not want me to have this conversation with you a third time."
you shake your head, tears welled in your eyes. when did your baby boys start hating you? when did they become so vile?
you hear muffled yelling from your son, followed by a loud, "shut the fuck up," muttered from your husband as he drags his bedroom door down the stairs and tosses it outside, immediately coming to your side to console you.
melting into your husband with a quiet sob, pope wraps his arms around you, laying his head into the crook of your neck. he's never been so angry and disappointed in his boys, you're a mom he would've killed to have. he has tears in his eyes, too.
"when did they get so hateful? we did not raise them this way.." you mumble into his chest.
"i dunno, sweetheart. i'm handling it." he sighs into your skin. his boys really did not know the half.
This one is a fam and I hope this dose not make you uncomfortable!
I see you're a fan of the Yuzuya fantasy series. Mostly because that is the only place in any piece of MHA fantasy au media in which soul flame is used. Anyway, let's move on.
It is OK to like yandere content so long as you don't have this kind of behavior in real life and don't condone real life yanderes
So for some context, you are a folklore type fairy from the Seelie Court and that's means you're a nicer type of fairy. You are also the size of Tinkerbell. Note, this also takes place before the events of Yuzuya's fantasy series for those who have seen it.
So, you were minding your business and living your life when you were lured into a trap by a crazy mage in which he tricked you into a jar lined with holy water and an iron lid. So, you were stuck for many months until Kirishima and Bakugo arrived. They were scammed by said mage and were hunting him down when they found you.
"Hey, Bakugo over here!" Kirishima yelled.
Bakugo, annoyed as always, wandered over to see what had drawn the attention of his dragon companion. Looking in the jar, he saw you. You were so small, fragile, and weak looking. They both knew the stories of fairies but Kirishima's bleeding heart caved at the look you gave them. So, they opened the jar and laid you on a cloth.
"How are you feeling?" Kirishima asks.
You stretch, happy to be free from the jar. Looking around, you see that the mage is gone but now there two very scary looking men staring down at you. Naturally, you start freaking the hell out which causes Kirishima to freak out as well.
Thye explain who they are and that calms you down a bit. They ask who you are and how up ended up in a jar. You explain and they feel really bad for you.
"So, you want come with us?" Kirishima asks.
"Huh?" You ask back
"He asked if you're willing to come with us," Bakugo says in mock annoyance.
You agree as you can't go anywhere with your wings still damaged.
3 months go by and your wings have been strong again. The times and adventures you three had were amazing. Though, you didn't seem to notice how much more protective the pair had been over you.
Thye both saw you as someone in need of protection and the world didn't do anything to prove them wrong. They always liked it when you talked about your culture but they didn't like when you talked about going home.
The week your wing is healed the two had already figured out they loved you, though it took Bakugo longer to admit it. So, they planned to tell you that they loved you.
That night around the fire they tell you how much they love you and that they want to be with you for the rest of your lives. They don't pause and there is no hesitation in their words.
"I.... I'm sorry. I can't feel the same, " you tell them.
They pause with Bakugo getting angry and Kirishima looking sad. They don't understand, why don't you've them? Kirishima, who had you sitting in his hand, holds you closer to his face.
"Why? Why don't you love us?" He asks teary eyed.
You correct him, saying that you did love them but that you aren't allowed to. Bakugo asks what bullshit says you can't love them and you explain that you aren't allowed to love humans and they pause.
Bakugo says that he's a dragon soul and that Kirishima is a regular dragon so you can still love them. You explain that even still, they look human so the fairies see them as human. This annoys Bakugo more. Kirishima begs, saying that youre their soul flame and that means you three are meant to be together!
"I'm sorry, but I can't," you say as you try to fly off his hand.
Next thing you know, Kirishima has you in a gentle but firm grasp.
"No, you can't leave and we aren't gonna let you!" He shouts.
He holds you like that when they return to Bakugo's homeland where you're placed under royal protection as the bride of the prince and his dragon. You can't leave and the people of the tribe along with your lovers will make sure you're never gonna leave until you all grow old and die.
SHAKING. SHE’S SHAKING. A GROTESQUE REVULSION SETTLES IN HIS GAZE, BOTH AT HIMSELF AND HER FEAR, but he soaks it in, driven further by the terror he still inspires. He knows now what he has to do: what he has been doing his whole life. He’d been foolish to think this place would be any different ! —— Claw his way to the top. He can get himself out of here if he pushes. If Cassidy has the power then he will take it from her. Physically; defeating this game of hers, but emotionally too; he had to rip her apart, inch by inch, destroy any thought she may have had of her own power. And he knows just how to do that.
“ Get to the door! ” He repeats again, laughing wildly. Hands like claws gripping the desk, both to keep himself steady and so he can feel the way it glitches and flickers as her instability grows. A sign of progress ! “ You know how this works, don’t you? You know how to escape me. I’ll even count down for you ! Ten ! Nine, eight —— ”
SNAP.
Something in him breaks, buckles at the sound. Eyes widen, breath clogs his throat like sludge. He expects darkness, the pain of another death; the cycle to repeat; the neverending misery of his non-existence to continue on in perpetuity.
I N S T E A D N O T H I N G H A P P E N S
If William before had been on the verge of completely losing any sanity he had left, now is something else entirely. Staggers closer, a tall looming shadow. Licks the blood from his lips and he doesn’t disappear .
“ Oh dear. ” He says. It comes out low, a beast stalking towards injured prey. So different in tone from his hysteria before, and somehow worse. “ I don’t think that’s up to you, Cassidy. In fact— ” The demented smile won’t leave his face, adrenaline at finally, finally having a win leaving him dizzy. Or perhaps it was the head wound. “ —I don’t think anything will be up to you anymore. Are you forgetting . . . ? I made this place. ”
Not literally: he has no power in this hellhole, no ability to control anything. But the idea behind it ? The animatronics and the fear and even Cassidy’s desperation to hurt, to get revenge on him ? — he’s the architect of it all. It is so easy to delude himself and tell his victim that nothing has changed: as usual, she is the sufferer.
I just wanted to write a Silco Villain monologue scene.
Book keeper/accountant finds herself on Silcos bad side as the result of a misunderstanding and he almost tortures and kills her. You know how it is, everyone makes mistakes.
Silco/femaleOC slow burn but it uses minimal name references (maybe like two?) so you can live your best life and read it as silco x reader because that’s what we’re here for people.
TW for intimidation, power dynamic stuff, abduction, confinement and hardcore simping. You’ve been warned bb ;-)
Read part 1
Framed by Betrayal - part 2
“Do you want to know what saved you last night?”
You awaken with a start at the sound of the voice. You’re confused for a moment, in that strange bed, in that stagnant cell of a safe room.
You sit up to see Silco sitting on the edge of your bed. The scarred side of his face in profile to you. Thumbing casually through an old book that had been on the table.
Your heart pounds as you’re suddenly wide awake. A rabbit awoken by a fox prowling into the den.
“It was a particular look in your eye…” he continues cooly. “A look that I recognise with deep familiarity.” His own eyes darken at that last mention. You barely notice, frozen in place as you are.
“Now normally in these situations” He gestures elegantly with his hands. “People are angry, which is just the other face of fear. They are often guilty, begging for mercy, lying, pleading even accepting…”
He suddenly turns to face you, piercing you with his calculating blue glaze. ”But you... you remained silent. You simply just looked at me. You looked at me... as if I had betrayed you.”
Silco stands, pacing the tiny room, making it seem even smaller somehow. You listen in polite, terrified silence, watching him carefully.
”Now for you to feel that way... not only does it imply a certain degree of loyalty to me.” He places a hand over his chest for emphasis.
"It proved that I was acting unjustly towards you. People can not fake these things under such duress you see. It's a raw, primal space, forcing people to reveal who they truly are. Their genuine motivations.” He moves to stand in front of you now, looking down at you, in your awkward sitting-up-in-bed pose.
“You ultimately showed me that you... are loyal” he purrs, squatting beside the bed, looming closer.
You resist the urge to back away as best you can but you do pull away slightly. He seems to notice and that draws him in closer, bracing himself against the wall by the headboard with his long arm. The air around you evaporates.
“And I prize loyalty above all else.” His powerful gaze just inches from your face holds both a threat and a promise. Your mind is blank as it holds you too long, his mismatched eyes are all that exist in that moment, it feels like they are leaching into you, staining your soul. He’s so close, that with every shallow breath, you inhale the smokey scent of him, engulfing you. Resisting the urge to move outwardly, you scream and thrash wildly inside yourself. Anxiety a tangible experience. He has ripped a hole through your cavern of a chest so that he can peer inside.
After what feels like a torturous eternity he draws away, turning and making for the door. Air rushes in as he withdraws and with relief you regain the space to breathe.
“I'm going to give you an opportunity to prove it.” He says as he strolls off, pausing in the doorway to add.
"Don't disappoint me.”
—-
By the time Sevika finally comes to collect you you're begrudgingly grateful to see her. You didn't know how long it had been but they had given you three more meals since. You had forced them down, not willing to chance any one could be your last for a while, or... forever.
You push that thought to the back of your mind as she gestures someone over who puts a giant respirator mask over your head and a big jacket that shrouds your form. You can't see anything out of the respirator helmet, the inside visor is painted black. It was not at all uncommon to see people wearing such things in the lanes and you're grateful for the anonymity.
You’re not sure where you’re going or what this chance to prove your loyalty might be but as long as it’s out of that gods forsaken room you’re happy.
You let the tall gaurd lead you with a hand on your shoulder. He's nice enough to warn you of stairs. You go through some door and they peel the disguise off.
Your eyes smart before you look around and you find yourself in an ornately decorated office.
The desk has an amazing circular window behind it and the highback leather chair is framed perfectly in the halo of green glow. A gold lamp illuminates the cool space with just the tiniest bit of luxurious warm orange light in contrast to the cool green.
Sevika sits on a faded red chaise lounge in a way that suggests deep familiarity and the other two guards stand by the door.
She gestures at the piles of paperwork around the desk.
"Do your thing". You stare at her in momentary despair at the thought of how important this was for you not to fuck up. She just smirks back at you and throws her arms back around the couch making herself comfortable.
You make your way over to the desk with paperwork everywhere and try to steel yourself. This is easy, you can do this. It's just systems of efficient organisation. Just like you did with Ramseys mess. Sort everything into categories, then by priority. Keep summaries and subtotals. Daily, weekly and monthly reports and everything will flow smoothly.
After some time you've laid things out all over the floor like a crazy person in complex rows and are scribbling madly on a clipboard walking around and squatting over certain sections, leafing through piles before continuing.
Sevika had fallen asleep, snoring gently, but the two door guards held you accountable. Not that you had any other plans, this was just a chance to reduce your likelyhood of immediate death and you were desperate to take it. Especially after the visit last night, his threatening monologue had been very motivating and effective.
The man certainly new how to run an empire and keep people in check. You shudder at the memory of him looming over you, his eyes holding you captive for eternity. You shake off the thought and swallow the fear that threatens to surface. Focus.
As you walk back to the desk, pen in your mouth, deciphering the most obvious lines of information you reach out for a piece of paper and pause as some primal feeling clangs violently through you. Your eyes meet Silcos as he looks across at you, mild amusement glinting in his glacial blue eye. When did he come in? How long had he been in the room? Did you accidentally summon him with your thoughts? Your mind whirls into overdrive.
The pen falls out of your mouth and you scramble to pick it up cursing yourself, waking Sevika. With a pang of dread you realise the beautiful brass pen must be his and wipe it on your shirt offering it back to him by way of placing it gently and reverently on the table.
He looks at it then back at you and pushes it pointedly back towards you.
"Continue" he says and then goes back to his own paperwork.
You find it hard to concentrate now, your workload totally derailed by the most powerful man in the city who, only a day or two earlier had been very close to torturing and killing you and just last night had threatened you again.
Your hand reaches back to touch your braid, tucking it over your shoulder protectively. You have to focus, or you just might still end up dead. You're a nobody, no power, no skin in the game. If you don't make yourself useful now you're dead meat. With this thought you cast a quick look over at the menacing presence, he absently runs his fingers through his hair as he reads something. Sevikas possesive angry glare catches your attention and quickly pulls you up. She's a spectacular gaurd dog you have to admit.
This quick exchange with her helps motivate you to a point beyond pretending to be doing things and gives you a chance to actually start up again. Albeit a little more self consciously. You get the burning feeling of being watched at times and decide to ignore it. The smell of cigar smoke fills the room as you continue.
You don't realise you're doing it but a few hours later you're kneeling at one end of the room grinning to yourself with the pen in your mouth again. It's nearly done, it's beautifully organised into streamlined and refined reporting systems.
A hand curls gently on your left shoulder and the pen droops, you don't freeze or tense up so much as die internally in the same way a star implodes.
You look up as Silco looks down directly at you and this time you can't help it when your ears go pink. You catch your breathing control before your face can blush like a terrified beetroot. You can’t see the scarred side of his face from this angle and he looks so much less intimidating.
You eventually realise that he expects a response as he lets go waiting patiently for you to explain.
"Well this line is your import and export trade as well as itemised lists of cargo tarrifs..." he nods along and you very slowly relax as he calmly talks to you about the organisational systems and the benefits of them. He nods and occasionally asks questions or makes adjustments. He's calm and polite and... human. He's just a person in this moment you realise as you absently gaze at him while he thinks over a problem rubbing his jaw. His eye flicks up to you suddenly and you feel oddly self conscious for a second before offering a suggestion. He gives you a strange look for a moment and then counters with a priority that helps you understand a piece of the puzzle.
"Ahhhh I see now, I'll adjust this to reflect the shipping costs in the final report then" You muse tapping your pen against your lips thoughtfully before you write it down.
You look up at the silence and he's staring at you thoughtfully. You could have sworn he glanced at your lips for a split second.
"I want you to keep working on this." You nod politely as if you had a choice. "This is just a fraction of our operation." He waved at the floor covered in neat chaotic rows of paperwork. "I wanted to see what you could do with this... and I'd like to have you do more."
"What abou-"
"Don't worry about the bar." He said gently but firmly waving a hand as if to dismiss the existence of it.
He then gives you a look that suggests you don't interrupt him again and your throat hurts. You'd become too casual in your lax comfort over the recent civil discussion. You need to remember who this man is and what he is capable of.
"That's all for today." He says dismissing you. "Sevika have the room down the hall emptied out. Show it to Amaya and arrange whatever is needed to do more of ... this." He gestures wearily at his paperwork struin office and you realise the mess you had made of his space and shrink at the thought.
You dip your head in respect and turn to leave with her.
As soon as you are out of the office you walk out into the club feeling tremendous relief to still be alive. Unfortunately, it only lasts for a split second before your skin goes ice cold. If they didn't need to hide you anymore that meant Harker was... gone.
A/N: This continuation was encouraged by @feline17ff and also by the fact that I'm on a soft villains kick :) Enjoy!
Warnings: robbery, manipulation, hostage situation, swearing, some verbal fighting, intimidation, implied threats, threats, self-worth issues, confidence issues/self esteem
Masterlist | Series masterlist | Taglist Info
Nearly six months had passed since Mirth had spent Christmas Eve with Baron and an unconscious rookie hero. She still didn’t know what to make of that night, or if she’d imagined the whole thing. But it’d certainly been real, even in spite of the eggnog Baron had conjured up with the items he’d “bought” at the convenience store up the street. He’d put enough alcohol in it, that she was nearly drunk from the smell alone. She didn’t know how they hadn’t died of alcohol poisoning. But…she’d enjoyed herself even if she shouldn’t have.
The fact was, Mirth had spent Christmas Eve with one of the city’s most notorious criminals because he was lonely and in truth, so was she. Her parents had gone on a Christmas cruise to Bermuda, her siblings were scattered on the wind and unable to host Christmas or spending it with their in-laws or their friends or whoever, and it’s not like she could host Christmas in her apartment. As it was, she’d had to sleep on the couch because they’d put Everette in her bed.
All Mirth knew for certain was that Baron had gone long before the witching hour at 3 A.M. and Everette had woken up confused and groggy early Christmas morning.
Oh, and the paperwork that had ensued because of his altercation in the alley with Baron.
What a nightmare that had been. And where did it land her?
On desk duty, all because she’d taken a creative approach to doing her job.
Okay, so maybe spending Christmas Eve with her nemesis hadn’t been her greatest idea, but other than rendering the rookie unconscious, he hadn’t actually committed any crimes—a fact proven by a thorough investigation that even Superhero had moaned about conducting during the holiday. But the Agency had come down hard on all of them in the wake of Mirth’s “immoral association” with Baron.
They made it sound like she was in love with him or something, which led to multiple training sessions for the whole Agency about workplace relationships, corruption, moral duty, and a slew of other sessions that nearly everyone on the force resented her for.
But today was the day. Her suspension was finally coming to an end. She could don her mask and supersuit again and actually do her job. So long as she did everything by the book and avoided any interaction with a certain criminal, she’d be fine. The Agency couldn’t fire her.
A slow smirk spread across her face as she watched the bustling city streets below her window. She was finally a hero again, and not the Agency’s lackey for all tasks deemed too tedious for those actually fighting crime or chatting by the water cooler to complete. If she’d had to organize one more case file, she swore she was turning coat out of spite.
But it hadn’t come to that, thank goodness.
Six long months of files and making coffees, and she was finally a hero again. They hadn’t even let her dispatch! But it didn’t matter now. She was in the field again and she wouldn’t—
“—back-up requested at Bank, all heroes respond. 9-40 in progress.”
Mirth’s blood ran cold. A 9-40 meant a hostage situation.
Quickly turning from the window and dashing up the stairs to her loft bedroom, Mirth changed into her supersuit and let her magic flow through her in a familiar hum.
Wholly invisible, she floated under the door of her apartment and darted over the city streets and passed the blockade set up at the intersection of 8th Avenue and West Main Street. She could make out another blockade at the next major intersection and blockades in front of all of the alleys between them. Once she approached the square made by first responder vehicles, a haphazard command center made by those first on scene, Mirth allowed herself to take a solid, visible form beside Superhero.
Cursing foully, Superhero laid a dramatic hand over their heart. “For the love of god, Mirth, how many times have I told you not to do that?”
“Sorry, Supe,” she said with a sweet smile. “I guess I just forgot what it was like to work with scaredy cats.”
They rolled their eyes, returning their attention to the bank blueprint rolled out on the trunk of the police car they all huddled beside. Other than Superhero, Teammate, Sidekick, and a few other first responders from the city had already gathered at their makeshift command center.
“Bullshit,” they said. “But I’m glad you’re here anyway. It’s Baron, and I know the Agency will have your head if you go near them, but I need eyes inside the bank. He’s already disabled the cameras and the phone lines.”
“Do you even have to ask?” She said, already starting to shift into “Ghost Mode” as they all called it. It was that form of invisibility in which she became something not unlike a ghost. Invisible, but not solid. It was like she turned into a colorless vapor that allowed her to float on the wind—or anywhere really because she still had control over herself just like those people blessed with flight—and in this case, it would let her sneak undetected into the bank.
“Just do it before the higher ups get here,” Superhero muttered. “I know you’re risking everything by doing this, but we really need you to.”
“It’s my job,” Mirth replied proudly. “Besides, there’s always vigilantism if the Agency won’t have me.”
Superhero snorted, but Mirth didn’t wait to hear their retort before she faded into nothing. Slipping into the bank, Mirth hovered above the lobby. Scores of people were huddled in the center of the floor, guarded by Baron’s armed henchmen. Baron himself was no where in sight. Mirth quickly counted the hostages and noted a handful of children amongst them, including a mother and her baby.
If she were solid, she might’ve bit her lip, but in this form, all Mirth could do was waver angrily. She needed to confirm Baron’s whereabouts before reporting back to Superhero. Forcing herself to float through the bank, Mirth turned down a hallway and passed empty offices. Backtracking when she hit a dead end, she pursued the hall behind the teller’s counter.
“Long time no see, Mirth,” a voice drawled off to her left as she hovered in the intersection between the two branches of the hallway.
Following the sound of his voice, Mirth was met with a smug Baron leaning against the wall beside the bank’s vault.
How could she forget those stupid sunglasses?
Taking a breath—well, more or less in this form—Mirth let herself solidify and turn visible again. Rolling her eyes at the display, she said, “As if you don’t know exactly why I haven’t been around.”
Discreetly, Mirth tapped the panic button on her belt, making like she was putting a hand on her hip. Now, the microphone of her radio would automatically transmit everything back to the command center outside. Hopefully, Superhero would figure out what to do.
“Was this your plan all along? Get me out of the way so you could wreak havoc on the city?” She tapped her foot impatiently, but her mind was focused on the hostages forced to cower in the bank lobby.
“As if you’re my only nemesis,” he chided, pushing off the wall and taking a step toward her, his half-cape swishing. With another step forward, Baron took the not-sunglasses off and slid them into a side cargo pocket on his pants.
Mirth glared at him, her blood boiling. How could she ever take pity on someone like him? Clenching her hand at her side, Mirth refused to yield as he crowded her.
“Let the hostages go, and then we can negotiate,” Mirth ground through her teeth.
“And lose my leverage? That seems dumb.”
“Then at least let the children go, and the mother with her baby.”
Baron’s eyes twinkled humorously, but his words cut deep. “And force you to explain why their parents aren’t coming home? I wouldn’t do that. No, the hostages stay until I get what I want.”
“And what’s that?” Mirth asked, her gaze unwavering.
Baron half-turned, gesturing toward the bank vault. “I can’t actually get in there, but you…you definitely can.”
Mirth swallowed. She could, they both knew that, but should she?
“Even if I get inside the vault, you still won’t get what you want. I can’t take anything with me in my invisible state,” she explained.
“Your clothes seem to do just fine with your invisibility,” Baron said dangerously. “Lying to me won’t get those children to safety.”
“I’m not lying. I don’t know if I can take whatever’s in that vault with me.” Mirth tried to sound convincing, and it’s not like she was lying, but it wasn’t exactly the truth either. She had, on occasion, managed to spread her powers over more than herself and the objects on her person. Besides, her suit couldn’t count because it was specially made to work with her powers. “It would take too much power to keep going between the visible and non-solid invisible state.”
Baron narrowed his eyes, studying her. Mirth fell slack, her hand slipping from her hand at his scrutiny. Vulnerability wasn’t a feeling she was all that familiar with as she could turn invisible at the drop of a hat.
“If,” he started, squaring his shoulders and forcing her back a step and then another until her back found the wall behind her. “If I let the children go,” he said, caging her against the wall and reaching a hand toward her hair. He smirked at her, brushing her ear and Mirth realized what he was doing, but by then it was too late. He pulled the earpiece and the microphone wire from her hair and must’ve sent a current through them to render them useless because he smiled satisfactorily as he let the wire drop limply to her shoulder and returned his hand to the wall beside her head.
“I’ll even let a parent go with them so you don’t have to worry about them going out into the world alone and afraid, but only if you agree to do it.”
“And if I won’t?” She whispered.
“Then we’re at an impasse and I might need to start killing hostages.”
Mirth wanted to tell him he wouldn’t, not with children present, not with the horde of first responders outside just waiting for a way to diffuse the situation or save the hostages come hell or high water.
“What if I could get the vault open instead?” She hated how meek she sounded, but as the gears in her head turned over, Mirth supposed it was for the better. Fluttering her lashes a little, she met Baron’s eyes, his brows arching. “Wouldn’t that be a better way? Certainly quicker than waiting on me to do all the work.”
As her voice turned sweeter, a little softer, and she made a show of looking him over, Baron began to waver. Mirth didn’t care if he were falling for a ploy that was all smoke and mirrors or if he was too confused to realize her plan.
Gently and agonizingly slow, she inched a hand toward his pocket, toward the glasses that neutralized her greatest asset. Barely slipping a finger into the pocket, the pad of her finger brushed the smooth plastic of the visors.
She forced her face to turn to coy, the light tilt of her head, an openness to her features and hope in her eyes she didn’t believe in. Her power simmered in her veins, waiting beneath the surface to activate at her will.
He opened his mouth to say something, but Mirth didn’t give him the chance, turning invisible, into the formless cloud of her most effective state, glasses and all.
Mirth hovered near the ceiling, watching him blink and then furiously push away from the wall. She left as he began cursing, not waiting to see what he would do at the discovery of the missing visors and bolted for the nearest exit and around the front of the bank.
Breathless, Mirth materialized between the police car where Superhero braced themselves on the trunk and the open van of the command center.
“Mirth!” Superhero balked, straightening at her appearance.
“There’s fourteen henchmen with him and thirty-two hostages, seven of which are children including the baby,” she said frantically.
“Are you alright?” They asked as the others gathered around.
“Mirth!” A voice barked. Her eyes darted toward the sound of the harsh voice in time to see Superior elbow their way through the assembled crowd of heroes and police. “How dare you—”
“Shut up, Superior,” Superhero ordered, “we are in the middle of a crisis, reprimands can wait until the hostages are safe and Baron’s been taken into custody.”
Mirth fiddled with her hands, her eyes bouncing between the dumbstruck Agency official and the high-ranking hero.
“Uh, Superhero?” An officer broke the tense silence. “The vault’s been opened.”
“What?” Mirth uttered. “Baron said he couldn’t get it open himself.”
“He’s a villain, they lie,” Superhero shrugged. A red light blinked on, catching all of their attention and then the hostage line rang. Mirth held her breath, watching as the hostage negotiator answered it and exchanged a few words with whoever was on the other end, presumably Baron.
Hanging up, the grim-faced woman swiveled in her chair in the back of the command center van. “They’re letting the hostages go, except for the bank employees. They’re being sent through the front doors of the bank within the next fifteen minutes.”
There was only a slight pause before Superhero began doling out orders. They needed to secure the bank entrance and all other exits to ensure Baron couldn’t escape. As their duties were assigned, capes and police officers alike began to break away from the crowd to see to their posts. When there wasn’t anyone left but the central command team, Superior, and herself, Superhero took a breath before addressing her.
“Write your report and turn it in to me immediately. I’m invoking the Rogue Clause.”
Superior began to protest, telling Superhero that they couldn’t do that, that—
“Shut up,” Superhero said. “It’s done. I’ve already invoked it and if you don’t like it because you have some kind of vendetta against Mirth—one of the most upstanding heroes this agency has, I might add—then you can petition my decision with HR. Now piss off, you’re not needed here. You’re only in the way.”
Superior shut their mouth, stunned into silence, their eyes wide with humiliation as they looked at the remaining members of the command team. Without a word, they turned on their heel and left, probably completely demoralized.
“And you.” Superhero whirled on them. Mirth shrank as they met their towering form and stern features. “Get in that van and start your report. You have ten minutes before the first of the hostages come through that door and I need you to identify them because you’re the only one who’s seen them.”
“As you wish,” Mirth said, stepping up into the van under the scrutiny of the rest of the command team. Stopping herself before she fully hauled herself up into the back of the van, Mirth glanced over her shoulder. “And thank you, Superhero.”
“Don’t thank me yet, sweetheart. There’s no telling what they’ll do now that I’ve all but decided to court martial you. All I’ve done is buy you time.”
Mirth materialized and sagged against her apartment door. Dark shadows blotted the corners and the upper loft of her apartment no matter how brightly the lights of the electronic billboards flooded her wide, daunting apartment window. Tears lined her eyes, threatening to spill over at any second now. Her lip wobbled.
Baron had escaped, along with his henchmen. She was facing a Rogue Trial, though Superhero had no doubt she’d be fine, that her colleagues supported her—even if they’d been irritated with her thanks to all those special training sessions they’d had to sit through after her questionable Christmas company.
But otherwise, the hostages—including the bank employees—had been either let go or rescued safely. Not a scratch on any of them, and the children had even been given lollipops before Baron and his henchmen had sent them into the waiting arms of paramedics and her fellow colleagues.
Forcing herself to push away from the door and get settled, Mirth tried to shut her mind off. She tried to stop thinking, to shake off the long evening and relax instead of worry about what was to come in the face of the Rogue Clause.
Grasping her belt buckle, she made to undo it when a knock at her door made her freeze. Using the last of her energy to fade into her ghostly form, Mirth hovered toward the door to glance out the peephole. A man about her age stood outside her door, a man she didn’t recognize.
Fantastic.
A cute guy shows up, probably at the wrong address to pick up his date, and she’s just had the shittiest day. And she was still in uniform.
“Hey Christmas Past, are you home? It’s me,” the man called through the door.
Mirth materialized, her lips twisting. Wrenching the door open, she growled, “What the hell are you doing here?”
Baron glanced at his feet. “I wanted to see you, to—”
“Get out of my sight,” Mirth spat, fixing to slam the door in his face, but his hand shot out and smacked against the door, holding it open enough to show her what he’d had behind his back. Mirth arched her brow. “You brought cupcakes?”
“I’m sorry,” Baron said, offering her the container of baked goods from one of the city’s best bakeries—and the only one still open this late.
Mirth snorted. “And what, you think bringing me cupcakes is going to forgive everything you’ve done? That I’ll forgive you, just like that? You’ve ruined my career, and for what? To get me—”
“No!” Baron interrupted, his eyes going wide with desperation, with…guilt? “I just…I wanted to see you, again.”
“So you staged a bank robbery, took hostages, and then tried to get me to rob the vault for you? Oh and then you robbed it anyway,” She laughed mirthlessly. “And you claim it’s because you wanted to see me again? Wow, you must think I’m delusional!”
Baron’s shoulders slumped. “I never said I was well-adjusted, or that it was my best ‘join the dark side’ attempt, but I didn’t…I’m sorry. I’m so incredibly sorry. You don’t have to forgive me, I don’t expect you to ever forgive me, but I won’t stop trying to show you how much I mean it.”
Mirth studied him. Utterly broken. She’d even say he seemed uncertain, a look she’d only ever seen him wear one other time, and it was that one other time that had arguably landed her in this situation to begin with. Sighing, she said, “I won’t accept your apology, and I certainly won’t accept your company, but I will take those cupcakes and consider them a small penance for being a Scrooge.”
Baron cracked a small, sad smile as Mirth accepted the cupcakes. She was just about ready to watch him leave when he met her eyes and said, “I hope, maybe one day, I could be a person that someone like you would find worthy, but this is all I’ve ever known and all that’s ever been expected of me. I don’t know how to be something more, but you gave me hope—and maybe more of your patience than you think.”
Mirth paused at his words. Her cold demeanor thawed. “Then maybe you should reconsider the whole villainy thing. Most people consider that a red flag.”
“I’m pretty sure giving up villainy won’t get rid of the whopping red flag that is my rap sheet, but it’s a start.”
Mirth squeezed her eyes shut. “The Rogue Clause.”
“What?”
“Go to Superhero. Declare the Rogue Clause,” Mirth clarified, forcing her eyes open. Her voice was pinched as she explained, “If you really want to give up villainy, and become someone worthy of whatever it is you feel like you aren’t deserving of right now, the Rogue Clause is your only way to get a start fresh.”
“I…” Baron blinked, whiplash evident on his face. Composing himself, Baron straightened and offered her a shaky smile. “Thank you.”
“Yeah, well…” Mirth gripped the door harder, holding the cupcakes close to herself. “Don’t make me regret this, alright?”
“I won’t.” Watching him leave, Mirth couldn’t help but hope he kept his oath, for that’s what his parting words sounded like to her. An oath in exchange for the gift she’d given him. A gift she didn’t know if he’d even earned but given nonetheless.
(TCW: intimidation, harsh language, implied insane/psychotic whumper, flashbacks to medical procedures, captivity, slavery, vampire whumpee, human whumper, genderless prompt)
"Look at me."
Whumpee growled, unearthly, glowing eyes snapping towards the human.
"You're safe here, if you're good,” Whumper informed, an even, gentle tone laid in their voice. “But you need to act like a person, instead of a rabid dog.”
“Why the fuck should I listen to you.. When I’m still in a fucking cage where your men put me.” The vampire hissed, lips flared and eyes still ablaze in hatred. They looked at the human without fear, without intimidation and Whumper seemed pleased to stare them down, right back.
“I need to know you’re going to be obedient, and not make me have to hurt you.” Whumper replied with a smooth crouch, coming to level their stances and look at the swirling cores of inhuman strength. The cage wasn’t stopping them. They both knew that.
“If you think you’re safe because I’m in here, you’re wrong,” Whumpee voiced what they both knew and it only earned a sly, smug looking smile to spread across Whumper’s lips.
“We both have surprises, about us Whumpee. But the fact you’re still in that cage, tells me you’re a little more intimidated than you’d like to admit.” Whumper’s voice annoyed them now, how calm, how collected it was.
Their heart was level, if not a tad excited. They didn’t smell like fear, if anything, there was a hint of arousal in the air. Piqued interest that bordered something akin to lunacy. Something didn’t sit right about them, to be so confident and taunting while looking them eye to eye, unwavering.
Whumpee pushed further, tried to gain a reaction when their hands curled around iron bars and pried them open just a few inches. It looked like they extended the bent curve of a straw from it’s accordion pleat, seamless, like it took no strength at all.
“There you go, what a strong vampire..” Whumper cooed in a mockingly sweet tone, eyes squinting in their smile. “I bet you can walk, too, can’t you?”
“Of course I can fucking walk, what kind of question is that-” Whumpee snapped and they felt heat now, as the human stared into their soul and never left them without pinning eye-contact. “Let me go, so I know I can walk out of here.”
“Oh, I can’t let you go go, but I’ll let you roam the basement for the first few weeks. It’s basically a miniature apartment so, I think it’ll do for now until I know I can trust you.”
“Trust me?! Are you fucking crazy?! You’re not keeping me here!” Another tug and the bars bowed again, this time with intent to truly gap them but as Whumper started to laugh, they froze again.
“I paid too much for you, you can’t leave. If you do, I’ll find you, they make sure, I can find you.”
Whumpee grabbed a fist full of their hair when a surge of pain shot behind their eyes, lights leaving imaginary prisms behind their eyelids. Their stomach curled with tension, body prickled each nerve as if it was taking count of every extremity.
“Gotta plant this nice a deep, so you can’t dig it out.” A man dressed like a surgeon muttered, as their restrained patient flopped against the table they’d been chained to.
They screamed when a needle drove into the back of their neck and was rooted in deeply; jamming into spinal tissue and brainstem. Burning fluid was pushed in along with a small microchip, their body spasming in rivets of shock. Their head hit the table and foamy saliva leaked onto the surface from their parted lips, limbs twitching now in neurologically damaged spasms.
“There, a little blood and you’ll be ready to sell.”
“Hnh, did you just remember something? You look a little pale, well... Paler than usual.”
Whumpee looked back at the human with a scowl and nostrils flared in disgust, hand rubbing their temple from their memory. “Who the fuck are you? How did you buy me?”
“All you need to know right now is that you’ll be treated well here, if you can assure me you’ll be good.” Whumper spoke a bit more sternly by the end and still, left such blazing eye contact behind, keeping them pinned like a bug to a wooden pegboard.
“You can’t just expect me to accept this-” The vampire started and Whumper gave an ironic snort.
“I beg to differ, I have a monetary investment in you and I plan to get my moneys worth. You can either be a beloved house pet that keeps me company and we can live in harmonious bliss..”
Whumper leaned closer, met knees to the floor and curled a hand tightly around the hand of Whumpee’s that still held to an iron bar. They stared the vampire down, clamped the others hand firmly in their own grip that they were assured it was painful. Just by the way Whumpee’s lids slightly twitched in response.
Vampires were handy creatures, when they didn’t seem to need to blink and Whumper was able to soak in every single movement they made. Every dilation in their pupils, every time they shrank to pinheads from their situation. Whumper soaked it up like a sponge.
“Or you can make me resent my purchase and treat you like the other things I get bored of playing with.” It was unsettling, the way Whumper laughed but never seemed to close their eye’s and block off their vision of Whumpee.
“I’m a bit of a spoiled child, you see... When I get bored of things, I break them and leave them on the floor.”
Whumpee swallowed on their dry throat, sight darting to the hand that never seemed to run out of strength to vice grip around theirs. When they looked back, Whumper was still staring, leaning closer until their forehead was against semi-severed bars and the vampire had to lurch backward.
“So I’ll ask again, Whumpee. Will you behave if I let you out?”
My knuckles were bruised like violets, sucker punching walls, cursed you as I sleep-talked. Spineless in my tomb of silence, tore your banners down, took the battle underground. And maybe it was ego swinging. Maybe it was her. Flashes of the battle come back to me in a blur.
Killing Jeremy had been just what Lucien needed to get back into the swing of things. There was nothing like a good sacrificial lamb to really get you thinking about the important things in life and he knew with more clarity than ever what his next move needed to be. As he started to descend the stairs to rejoin the party, the exact person that he was hoping to see ran straight into him. The older vampire watched fear creep into Caroline’s cerulean eyes when she realized she was face to face with the man that was attempting to ruin her boyfriend’s life and it gave him a sense of pride to know he could strike such a strong emotion with just a simple look.
“Miss Forbes,” he greeted, reaching out to take her hand. “Fancy meeting you here.”
Caroline gave him a scathing look, ripping her hand away from his grasp. “Yes, what a surprise to run into a Whitmore College event coordinator at a Whitmore College event. Truly shocking.” She started to walk away from him, continuing up the stairs, when he ghosts in front of her to stop her path.
“Now. Caroline, where can you possibly be headed in such a hurry?” he taunted, watching as Moira, one of his loyal soldiers, moves behind Caroline was well. There was no escape; both vampires were much older than the blonde and much faster. She had no way out without causing a scene.
“What do you want?” Caroline hissed out, fire in her eyes as she stared up at him.
“Just one dance, love. Then you’re free to go.”
Lucien watched as Caroline obviously weighed her options. He was sure that she considered fighting for a moment before quickly ruling it out. Running was an option, too, but one that had already proven futile. Finally, the blonde let out a heavy sigh, eyes shooting daggers at him as she agreed, “Fine. One dance and then you stay the hell away from me.”
He nods, glee written into every feature on his face as he escorts her back down the stairs. Once the pair reaches the dance floor, he extends a hand to her and she reluctantly takes it, her other hand resting on his shoulder while his finds her waist.
“Watch it,” she snaps, her body rigid in his arms as they dance.
Lucien feigns shock at her tone, smirk in place. “I have been and will remain a perfect gentleman, Caroline. As long as you do what I want.”
She scoffs, shaking her head. “You want to kill me and my the love of my life. The likelihood of me doing anything you want is less than zero.”
The hand that’s holding Caroline’s tightens so hard that the blonde can feel her bones slowly break, letting out a yelp of pain that quickly transforms into a whimper as she keeps her face passive to not arouse any alarm from those around her. “Don’t test me, Caroline,” Lucien spits out. “You have no idea what I’m capable of.”
She wants nothing more than to run away, to fling herself into Klaus’ arms and beg him to take her away from this place and this man that is hellbent on their destruction but she forces her heart to steel itself and maintains eye contact. “What do you want?” she repeats, her voice cold.
Lucien’s eyes were gleaming with mischief, excitement rising in his chest. “I want you to leave Klaus.”
The idea of what he was proposing was so preposterous that Caroline couldn’t help but laugh. A genuine chuckle flew out before she could stop it and she shook her head again. “Even if I tried to break up with him, he’d know it was because of you. He’d never buy it was real. He wouldn’t let me just disappear.”
Lucien looks over at Moira and she nods, moving in to stand close to Stefan. Caroline’s heart skips a beat in her chest, knowing exactly where this is headed. “Threaten Stefan and I’ll rip my own heart out right here on this dance floor,” she commands, her voice cold and detached. “If I die, you lose all your leverage, right? So do it. I dare you. Let’s see which one of us really has balls of steel.”
He hadn’t been prepared for that response. Perhaps there was more to this girl than he initially anticipated. An unexpected development, for sure, but not an unwelcome one. “Your loyalty is admirable.”
“Then leave me and the people I love alone,” she requests, not foolish enough to hope that it would actually be that easy.
He chuckles sadly. “I wish it were that simple, love. This has never been about hatred, it’s about survival.”
Caroline scoffs again. “You’re not the only person from his line. I’m from his line and he’s in love with me. Do you really think that he’s going to let something happen to himself when it means that I would die too?”
He lets out a frustrated growl, moving faster than anyone could possibly see as he pushes Caroline off the dance floor and into the darkened corner of a room. She’s shaking with fear, but her head remains high even in the face of his uncertain wrath.
“I have you, his most prized possession, away from the fray. Vulnerable. Weak. So easy to rip your heart out, the only choice left to kiss or to kill you. And where is he, Caroline? Nowhere. He doesn’t even have a clue you’re in danger.”
Caroline is struggling against his grip, hating that he can overpower her, trying to push and scratch and kick him off of her and failing at every attempt.
“Why would I want someone that cannot protect the woman he loves to be in charge of what happens to me?” Lucien continues. His hand grabs a handful of her blonde locks, forcing her head back to better expose her neck. Without warning, his fangs sink into her throat, drinking her blood in gulps.
Caroline closes her eyes, trying to pretend that she’s anywhere else, that this doesn’t remind her of Damon’s actions all those years ago. When he finally pulls away, shame washes over her at the realization that he had finally gotten her to cry the tears he’d been hoping for, just not for the reason he was expecting.
“I’ve been starving ever since I slit Jeremy’s wrists open an hour ago,” Lucien whispers, his hot breath tickling her ear, the smell of her own blood tinging every one of his exhales. Horror comes over Caroline at the idea of her best friend bleeding out alone and helpless somewhere and this time when she struggles against him, Lucien releases her.
Caroline hurries away from him, glancing back to make sure he wasn’t following her.
“Tell Klaus you tasted even sweeter than I imagined!” Lucien calls after her, cackling as she starts to run faster away, desperate to find Jeremy.
Tears were streaming down her face as she tried to listen for Jeremy’s voice, realizing that she had to stop sobbing in order for her to be of any use to anyone. Once she calms herself, her resolve returns and she knows that Lucien had won this battle.
Guard: You ain't getting no honey sandwiches, now you gonna shut your cake hole like a good little shit?
Elita: You do have to feed your prisoners you know!
Guard: And what would you like? Type O? A?
Elita: I told you! I want honey sandwiches.
Guard: Oh right, my mistake!
***
Elita: Some of you eagle eyed people might note the bruising on my face from when Apex slammed it, is gone. That’s no accident, thank you dad for the fast healing! Anyway he punched me in the face, it looks bad, and I expected it to hurt a lot… but, truth is… I barely felt it! Genuinely, I could hardly feel it.
***
The Guard had not disconnected the phone and it was still connected. The other captured creatures in the adjoining cells were going nuts shouting and howling and all sorts of commotion. They sensed her there…
Guard: Seriously, shut your face before I decide to do a number on it with my brass knucks. Shut your fucking mouth before I knock your ass out! Are you gonna shut up?
Elita: Yes I will… But, what kind of babysitter are you? If you’re gonna spank me you puny fuck, at least hit me hard enough to hurt me.
