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zoros-sake-bottles · 7 months

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What you'd argue with them over! Pt.2 (Zoro, Sanji & Law)

READ PT. 1 FIRST

https://www.tumblr.com/zoros-sake-bottles/719410532748328960/what-youd-argue-with-them-over-pt1-zoro?source=share

Zoro

After that argument the with Zoro about him not caring for his health you weren’t the same

You began allowing him to do what he saw fit

He’d injure himself and you wouldn’t say a word

You refused to nag him-to beg him to think about his body, but that didn’t mean you didn’t care

So you thought of a way to prove your point…and that was putting yourself in harms way constantly

In order for him to understand where you were coming from, he was going to have to see it himself … on you

So the day after that you continuously allowed yourself to get hurt in battles

At first it was little things like scrapes, cuts and bruises, Zoro saw these but didn’t pay them much mind because of how small they were

But over time it became more excessive, you allowed your opponent to freely bang you up before defeating them

You’d come back with bigger bruises covering your rib cage, you even had a busted lip

At one point he just couldn’t take it anymore and while you were getting treated he burst into the room and told Chopper to take five, leaving you two alone

“....What the hell was that out there?” is all he says as he stares down at you on the hospital cot

“A fight-”

“Screw that y/n, you know what I mean!” his jaw is clenched as he looks at your body all bruised and bleeding

You sit up holding your broken rib and Zoro’s arms go out to help you but you push them away

“Look at yourself, seriously, you shouldn’t be-”

You ignore him, going as far to stand up

Your legs wobble excessively as you take small steps

“Y/n sit down, your in no shape to go do anything right now-”

Your leg buckles as you continue to try and walk your breath becoming more like a wheeze

“Y/n! Alright! Enough! I get it!” Zoro grabs your shoulders and looks into your eyes

His body shakes a bit and his eyes are deeply concerned as he guides you back onto the cot

“You proved your point just-.....sit down” his voice stresses as he helps you onto the cot and covers you with a blanket

Despite the pain your in you find it in you to laugh a bit, it makes you look unhinged

You have dried blood under your nose and your bottom lip is swollen but all you can think about is how your plan worked

Zoro’s sits down on a stool in front of you, he shakes his head and sighs as he runs a hand down his face “crazy woman…” he mutters

Sanji

Since the argument Sanji has apologized to you countless times and you know that he means them some what

He's sorry that he upset you, he's sorry that you felt like you had to resort to physical violence

He doesn't understand the issue at hand and so as much as you hated what you were gonna do you had to give him a taste of what you experience with him on a daily

You started subtly allowing yourself to be hit on by males

You were a girl that could handle yourself so usually Sanji just watched (intensely and angrily) in these situations as you told the men off

But can you imagine his face when you didn't tell the guys to kick rocks?!

When you accepted the sleazy compliments and even gave some!

Sanji nearly went comatose as he watched you joyfully conversate with a scumbag at a bar

His jaw dropped as you laughed at the strangers jokes and even poured him more sake in his shot glass

"Mon cheri!? W-what's-I-I…why'd you-"

"Why what?" you reply nonchalantly

"T-that garbage man was…he was sexualizing your body dear!"

"Your being dramatic Sanji he was just expressing to me how much he admired my beauty-"

"My love no, that scum was undressing you with his eyes"

"your being ridiculous"

Sanji looks hurt as he tries to appeal to you somehow but his words just weren’t getting through

The man comes back and right in front of Sanji he’s about to caress your hair

There's no way Sanji would allow that, he ends up kicking the half drunk in the stomach sending him flying through the bar

Your jaw drops as you look up at him

Sanji face is scrunched as he looks at the guy knocked out, half his body in the bar and the other half hanging out

“Sanji-”

Sanji turns to you and takes your hands in his and with an inhale he says

“Mon amour, I cannot imagine how you feel when this happens to me and I am so sorry that I didn’t take the issue serious enough to the point you had to do a demonstration like this, I'm a fool”

He rubs your hands with his thumbs and he seems still very heated from the entire ordeal

You can’t even stay mad at Sanji because of how jealous he looks

“I forgive you baby, I'm glad you can see what I go through…”

You smile softly at him and he looks at you with a smudge of a smile

“....you didn’t have to compliment his hair….it wasn’t even nice” Sanji mumbles still jealous

You giggle and caress his face

“You're right it was an ugly orange color but do you know what my favorite color is?”

Sanji looks at you curiously

“Yellow”

You give him a kiss and he blushes not even thinking about that stupid drunk from before. He just wants to drown in your praises

Law

After the argument you both had before he has been acting as if it never happened

He gave you time to cool of but when you came back he didn’t apologize but rather gave you a task to fulfill

Its as if that was his way of saying that you overreacted and that it wasn’t that deep

You decided to keep it all inside, that's all Law ever did anyway so he shouldn’t have had a problem with you doing the same

You were tired of being labeled as over emotional every time something got you riled up or hurt your feelings

You wanted to be taken seriously by Law

One day you were listening in on Law's meeting that he had purposely left you out of

It seems he was planning on having the crew go to a dangerous island that had a poneglyph on it next

This idea is tossed around because Law isn’t risky and nonchalant like his fellow members of the worst generation

He is precise as a surgeon should be

You were all running low resources and the island was close so it was decided that the crew would stop at the island for resources ONLY

So once you all arrived at the island you decided to sneak off and take prints of the poneglyph

It definitely wasn't easy and you had plenty of cuts and scrapes but it was all worth it and you couldn't wait to see the look on Law's face!

When you arrived back it was about afternoon, you searched for the submarine in the water but your eyes landed on your irritated boyfriend instead

He leaned against a rock his arms crossed his head tilted down

"y/n ya, tell me three things"

You can feel the disapproval oozing off of him and before you know it your being 'shambled'

You reappear in front of him

"What was the plan?" "Where have you been?" "Who's your captain?"

"The plan was to retrieve resources and I chose to act alone on my own little mission, I don't know what the big deal is you do it all the time" You scoff turning your head away

Almost immediately he is turning your head back with his long slender fingers

"Do I look like I'm in the mood for games? Do you know how long I've been standing here?, We were done with the mission hours ago" he stares into your soul with his dark eyes

You almost always came close to folding when he had you like this

"I-...well-" You sputter watching his sharp eyebrow lift

"You can't even defend yourself, look at you blubbering like a moronic fish"

You feel embarrassed slightly but you don't back down "I got a print of the poneglyph"

You shove the scroll into his face but it's almost as he doesn't see it

"Does go and buy some rice and dried meat sound like go and get the poneglyph to you? If so I'm going to check your hearing right now"

"I-"

He holds your wrist and you wince as he examines you, even though he's clearly upset, he's tending to you like your made out of glass

Its silent as he slowly rotates you, he touches at your shoulder and when you hiss it confirms whatever analysis going on in his brain

"You need stitches" he grumbles

"I'll do it myself, anyway look" you thrust the poneglyph into his face again

He takes the print from you and tsks before making it disappear

"Law!-"

"What? Am I supposed to be happy you went against my orders and got yourself injured all to prove meager point"

Your shoulders sink "...did-...did it work at least?"

He sighs as takes off his hat before running his hands through his raven hair

"....It's hot as hell…and…i'm hungry"

You tilt your head and raise an eyebrow, was he changing the subject "What?"

"My back is killing me…"

You blink, was this his way of apologizing? Was he trying to communicate now?

You swallow and kick at the grass "I-I…I can massage it for you" you blush lightly "if you want-"

"That sounds heaven sent" he gives a small smirk

"Oh-okay, lets go then-"

Your body is pulled in close by him

"L-law?"

"You know, you never answered my third question he says softly

"Huh?-"

"Who's your captain?" he rest his forehead against yours

Your heart beats quickly and you find yourself trying to slow your breathing

"Y/n ya…"

"....you...your my captain"

#one piece #sanji x reader #fem!reader #law x reader #sanji #roronoa zoro #strawhat pirates #vinsmoke sanji #x reader #tralfagar law #zoro x reader #straw hat pirates #heart pirates #mugiwara no luffy #marimo #onepiece live action

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bountydroid · 4 days

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Darlin' pt 5

pt 1 / pt 2 / pt 3 / pt 4 / pt6

Cooper Howard/The Ghoul x f!reader��(Slowburn romance)

Description: Cooper starts to soften up.

Notes: This one is a bit longer! I might be a little slower between parts from now on as it is finals season and I'll be graduating with my bachelor's degree (yay!) plus I work full time. As always, any critiques are welcome!

The air between us after the hug attempt was thick with tension. We walked in silence as we made our way into the wasteland, clear tracks in the sand making the target easy to follow. I was sure that the look on my face was pathetic, like a kicked puppy. I tried to hide my hurt at first, but it didn't seem like he cared much since he had hardly even glanced at me since we left Ma June's shop anyway. At least I had Whilzig's dog. I knew he was just there to help us track his master, but his presence felt comforting. Without him, I think the tension between Cooper and I would be too much to handle.

I glanced over at the ghoul every so often. I was hoping I would catch him glancing back, a sign that he did in fact, give a damn about me. I felt deflated. Any hope I had about his feelings for me had vanished.

I let a quiet sigh escape my lips as I looked down at my feet.

This seemed to get his attention as he stopped in his tracks and whipped around to face me. "Stop it." He said sternly, a look of annoyance on his face.

I was sure that my face did little to hide the horror I felt at his reaction. "I am just tired." I tried to lie.

"Sure." He said back, crossing his arms. He clearly knew I was lying.

I felt anger prickle up inside me. "Why are you looking at me like I did something wrong? I didn't." I exclaimed. "I hugged my friend. At least I thought I did."

He didn't respond to this, instead opting to look out into the never-ending sand.

"Let's just keep going," I mumbled as I stomped past him.

Growing up I loved the sun. I loved to feel its warm rays on my skin as it shined through the window. Now? Now I hated it. We had barely been in the Wasteland that long, and I already felt like the heat was suffocating me. It didn't seem to bother Cooper though. He showed no sign of tiring or discomfort. "One of the perks of being a ghoul I guess." I thought to myself bitterly.

After what felt like ages, our furry companion barked and started running towards a large piece of metal. Cooper and I exchanged looks before picking up our pace to catch up to him.

"What the hell?" I mumbled as I pinched my nose and looked away from the headless body.

Cooper crouched down next to Whilzig, a look of mild confusion on his face before looking out into the wasteland. One of his coughing fits started as he took his pack off of his shoulder and put it on the ground, rummaging through it. He found what he was looking for quickly, a metal tin with a couple of vials of Jet inside. Despite being angry with him, I looked down at him, concern evident on my face. Almost like he could sense it, he looked up at me as he put the vial into his inhaler. His eyes closed and a look of relief washed over his face as he breathed it in. He let out one more soft wheeze as he collected himself.

"Cooper?" I asked softly.

"Yeah, Darlin'?" He replied while getting up from the ground.

"I'm sorry." I started. "I am sorry for huggin' you. I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable."

His eyes bore into me while he contemplated his response. "You're okay Darlin'." He said quietly. "I am just an ill-tempered old man."

I let out a small giggle. "I would've said cranky, but ill-tempered is a nicer way to put it."

He let out a loud bark of a laugh in response. "Come on let's go find the rest of im'." He said as he patted my shoulder.

As we started to walk away from the body, Cooper let out a clicking noise, getting the dog's attention. The dog barked in response as he chased after us.

"How old are you anyway?" I ask curiously.

He hummed in response, "Old."

I decided not to press it further, his short response suggesting it wasn't something he wanted to discuss. This time, our silent march was much more pleasant. The tension from earlier was gone. I was exceeding grateful for this change. As the sun started to set, I felt relieved. The heat didn't feel quite as terrible as the sun started to fade behind the horizon.

"Good a spot as any," Cooper said as he peaked inside a half-crumbled building.

I sighed in relief. "God my feet are killing me. I think I've done more walkin' with you than I have in my entire life."

He let out a breathy laugh, "And you are gonna do a lot more, sugar."

It didn't take long for me to fall asleep in the sand curled up next to Whilzig's dog.

I slowly peeled my eyes open as I felt someone gently shaking me. My bleary eyes peered up to see the face of my traveling companion.

"Mornin' Darlin'." He smirked at my dazed and exhausted face. "Sleep well?"

I just grumbled in response. I slowly raised to my feet, wincing as the pressure on them began to build. I felt his eyes on me as he raised his bag to his shoulder. I sighed as I reached down to pick up my bag as well.

"When we get this bounty, I am gonna sleep for a week." I say with a soft groan.

"Gimme that." He said as he ripped my bag from my hands and threw it over his empty shoulder. He chuckled at the surprised look on my face. "Can't have your pretty ass slowin' me down."

I stood there for a moment and replayed our exchange in my head before finally running after him. "He keeps calling me pretty." I think to myself while a blush creeps over my cheeks.

"You know," I started, feeling bold. "I think we are a great team."

He glanced over at me, an amused look on his face. "Yeah?"

"Yeah." I hummed happily. "I am really glad I met you."

An unrecognizable look washed over his face. Hesitation? Confusion? Fear? It looked like all of those emotions, all at once.

I gave him a weary smile, "Even if you won't let me hug you." I admit.

He hesitated, almost looking like he was going to say something before he stopped himself.

"Hey, Dog Meat!" He yelled up at the dog, "Don't go far."

"Dog Meat?" I mused, "Really?"

"That's what he is, ain't he?" he replied, smirking.

I knew he was trying to change the subject. He was uncomfortable again. So, I decided to let him as I let out a small giggle. "Sure, Cooper."

We continued along, getting closer and closer to the derelict city. The silence was only interrupted by the occasional bark from Dog Meat. We happened upon an oasis, the water inviting, almost trying to trick me into taking a dip. I knew better than that. We could hear a commotion in front of us as we started to slow down, quieting our footsteps. Cooper turned to me and put a finger to his lips, silently shushing me. Someone else was there. The bounty?

No, it was the vaultie. I stayed behind as Cooper snuck up behind her. She only noticed his presence once she heard the cock of his gun.

"Hello again." She said, her eyes filled with fear.

He greeted her by hitting her over the head with the butt of his gun. I grimaced as she fell to the ground.

"Where is it?" He snarled. "The head."

She whimpered on the ground quietly while Cooper picked up her bag and emptied the contents into the dirt.

Cooper got angry as he realized the head wasn't there. He cocked his gun again, ready to shoot her.

"Okay, okay, I don't know where it is. Okay? I lost it." The vaultie begged. "I lost it."

Cooper let out a soft hum as he looked around, it seemed like he already knew what he was looking for when he put his boot in a pile of dung. I made a disgusted face.

"Did you seriously have to do that?" I mumbled. This brought the vaultie's attention to me. She was so caught up in her fear of Cooper she didn't even realize I was there.

"A gulper got it, huh?" He said as he turned back to the vaultie before grabbing her by the hair.

She cried as she begged for mercy as he dragged her to the dock. Once there, he tied a rope with an anchor on the end around her body as well as bound her feet. I just watched from afar, feeling slightly bad for the girl. Dog Meat was barking so loudly I could hardly hear them.

"Stop! Please!" She begged as she wiggled, trying to break free. "My dad, he's an overseer. He got taken by Raiders and I need that head to get him back. If you help me find him, he'll do whatever you want!"

Instead of responding, Cooper just pushed her into the water. The rope she was bound with was connected to a piece of metal I did not recognize, but it kept her from sinking to the bottom. She splashed around as she panicked.

"Stop! Stop! Torture is wrong!" She cried out when he brought her back up out of the water.

Cooper let out a scoff. "You know, they used to do these things called studies. Why, you couldn't open a newspaper without reading about one study or another. Anyways, one particular study came out and it said torturing a person, don't do shit." He replied as he dropped her back into the water briefly before bringing her up again. "It made sense. I mean a man hurts me? I wouldn't want to do him any favors. And yet the practice of torture failed to vanish from this earth. In fact, as time marches on, I've personally noticed a decided uptick in the amount of torture being doled out across the board." He continued as he picked off a small creature from her back and fed it to Dog Meat.

"Sir, please. I need the head. It's the only way I can get my father back." The vaultie begged again. I admired her spirit. I debated asking Cooper to stop, but I bit my tongue instead.

"My point is," Cooper replied, ignoring her pleas. "If you ask me, them studies, they were right. Torturing a person don't do shit."

"Then why are you doing this?" She asked, exasperated.

"Well, I ain't torturing you, sweetheart. I'm using you as bait." He explained before dunking her in the water again. I hated to admit it, but I felt a tiny bit of jealousy in my chest at the nickname. I knew I shouldn't be jealous, he obviously held little love for her.

Cooper started to whistle as he got closer to the edge of the dock like he was beckoning something near. It was at this point that I realized I had been slowly inching closer to them this whole time as my feet finally met the dock.

"What is a gulper?" I asked Cooper curiously.

"A monster, darlin'. Careful." He said, realizing how close I was getting to the water. He grabbed his knife off the wooden box he put it on earlier and tied a rope around it. He clearly had a plan.

The vaultie started crying out in the water and flailing around even more than usual. This caused Cooper to try and lift her out of the water again, but the machine he was using was stuck.

"Cooper!" I cried out, realizing she was going to drown.

He sprang into action as he grabbed a hook, moving the entire machine to pull her out. As she was pulled onto the dock, a giant pink creature followed her. He was right. That was a monster. I ran up to the vaultie and grabbed her shoulders as I tried to pull her away, but the anchor tied around her was stuck in the gulper's mouth. She kicked at the creature violently as Cooper stuck it with his knife. The gulper got ahold of her leg and swung her around, pushing me into the water. I thrashed around as I tried to find something to hold onto.

"Cooper!" I yelled before I finally was able to grasp ahold of the dock. I could hear the tussle above me and the gulper finally cry out and fall back into the water.

I could hear Cooper gasping for air as he crawled over to me. "Give me your hand, sugar."

I quickly did as I was told. He pulled me out of the water and onto the dock with ease. He got up and looked out into the water, wincing as he realized the head was gone once again.

"Cooper," I said softly. "Your bag."

He moved swiftly, going straight for his tin of Jet. At the realization that it was completely crushed he pointed his gun back at the vaultie.

"Motherfucker!" He shouted angrily.

"Oh, I'm sorry. I should've just let you use me as bait in a poison river!" The vaultie yelled back.

Cooper lowered his gun before turning back around to the water. "Fuck!" He screamed.

I finally stood up and waddled my way over to him. My clothes were soaked, uncomfortably sticking to my skin. This caught his attention, he put his hand on my cheek as he briefly scanned my body, looking for injuries. "I am fine." I hummed, my heart squeezing in my chest at his show of affection. It wasn't much, but it showed how much he cared.

"You can't treat people like this!" The vaultie interrupted.

"Yeah, why's that?" Cooper asked, his mind obviously elsewhere.

"Because of the golden rule." She said like it was the most obvious thing in the world. "Do unto others as you would have done unto you."

I gave her an amused look as I let out a small laugh. "The golden rule, huh? I don't think he follows that."

"Those gulpers digest real slow. You got time." Cooper said to himself.

I put the hand on his shoulder reassuringly, pulling him from his thoughts. He looked at me for a second before hurrying over to pick up our bags. "We gotta go." He pulled out his lasso and made his way to the vaultie.

"No. no, no, no, no." She begged as he put it around her neck. "Where are we going? What about the head? I need the head to get my dad back."

"Yeah, well, the wasteland's got its own golden rule," Cooper replied, dragging her along.

"Yeah, what's that?" She asked.

"Thou shalt get sidetracked by bullshit every goddamn time." Cooper sighed.

"What about the dog?" I asked, scurrying after him.

"He ain't ours." He responded curtly.

I frowned at him. I had gotten attached to Dog Meat, but the determined expression on Cooper's face kept me quiet. Wherever we were going, it was important.

Tag list: @msrawog @valdemarismynonbinarylove @topiramateagreeable @whizbang-cap @sitkafay @lightan117 @eykismyfav @ajeff855 @madelinealexandra @justme12200 @sihlaryn @raviolisenpai @ellabellabunny123 @impossessedbyjeongyeon @leviathanleva @v3lv3tf0x @judgementdays-girl

#cooper howard #the ghoul fallout #cooper howard x reader #fallout tv series #the ghoul x reader #fallout

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writemekpop · 1 year

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Boy's a Liar | Lee Donghyuck (Haechan)

Summary: One day, your nudes show up everywhere in college. Did your boyfriend Haechan share them?

Genre: College AU, cheeky Hyuck, angst

Word Count: 2k

Four letters. Blood-red, smeared over your locker in lipstick.

SLUT.

Goosebumps ran over your body. Hands shaking, you tried to wipe the words away, but it only stained your skin red. You could hear snickering from behind you.

Your heart was in your stomach. You heard people’s whispers.

“I heard she sells her nudes for money.” “You know she blew the entire ice hockey team once.” “She even lets her boyfriend do anal!”

Chenle, basketball captain and mega bully, shoved past you.

"Ever heard of plastic surgery? I wouldn’t touch that with a ten-foot pole.” He jeered and high fived his friend Jisung, who was doubled over laughing.

You frowned. You spotted your best friend Winter and pulled her into a classroom. "What the hell's going on? Why is everyone being so mean to me?"

Winter bit her lip. “Oh baby… you don't know?”

"Know what?"

Winter handed you her phone. "Don't shoot the messenger."

It was the Griffin college class of 2024 chat, with all 150 students.

You nearly dropped the phone when you saw it.

It was your picture – no, it was your nude. You were lying in bed, completely naked.

“What the hell is this doing on the group chat?"

The picture was followed by lots of comments and laughing emojis.

Winter snatched the phone back. "I think you've seen enough."

Your knees gave way and you slumped to the floor. Guilt, shame, fear, were all welling up inside you faster than you could process. You burst into tears.

Winter patted your back. "How did that picture even get out?"

You sniffed. "I dunno. The only person I sent it to was... Haechan."

The realisation dawned upon you. It had to have been him.

Haechan was your boyfriend. He was the cute boy who was always ten minutes late to class, with warm brown eyes and a devilish smirk. He was the boy who would never let you leave his room without wearing something of this – a beanie, a hoodie, (his boxers, once) – so you ‘wouldn’t forget him’.

You'd only been dating three months, but you loved him, and he loved you back… or so you thought.

You stood up. “I need to see him.”

Winter squeezed your hand. “I’ll be here if you need me.”

---

It wasn’t hard to find Haechan.

He was in the cafeteria, surrounded by a group of boys, being cheered on and fist bumped. Haechan was grinning like he had just won the lottery.

Your frown deepened the closer you got.

“Can’t believe you smashed her, bro. Nice one!” Johnny, one of the seniors, said to Haechan.

Haechan smiled awkwardly. “Err, thanks I guess…”

“Give us all the details!” Johnny said.

Haechan shrugged. “Well…”

When Haechan spotted you, the smile dropped off his face.

Doyoung, another senior, pushed Haechan to the side and stepped towards you. He raked his eyes all the way down your body.

“Hey baby girl, I heard you’re gagging for it. Wanna take this for a ride?” Doyoung grabbed his crotch, face leering.

You resisted the urge to slap Doyoung. “The only thing I want is to run you over, asshole. Fuck you!”

You stared at Haechan, waiting to hear the string of curses he would unleash on his friends. But he just stood there, rubbing his elbow, trying to avoid your gaze.

You turned and sprinted out onto the field. You couldn’t take this any longer. You ran till your legs started to ache.

You heard a voice from behind you. “Y/n, wait up! Jeez, I forget you’re freakishly fast.”

It was Haechan. You turned around to see him gripping his side, wheezing.

His dark hair was a birds’ nest, and his brown skin was glowing with sweat. You hated that he still looked gorgeous.

“What do you want?” you spat.

Haechan straightened up and brushed his hair out of his face. “Y/n. I’m so sorry… the photo, I-“

“How could you send that to everyone?” you said, interrupting him. “That was meant for your eyes only!”

Haechan shook his head vigorously. “No! I didn’t send it to everyone, I swear!”

You frowned. “Then how did it get out?”

Haechan gulped, looking incredibly uncomfortable. “Well I mean… I did send it to Jeno. But I told him not to share it with anyone! I made him swear on his mother’s life!”

“What the fuck, Haechan! Why would you do that?”

Haechan sighed. “Look, Jeno was bragging about all the hot girls he’s slept with, and showing me their pics. I just wanted to… be included.”

"That's the stupidest thing I've ever heard!" You shoved his chest. "I hate you!"

You turned around, ready to leave again.

"Wait!" Haechan grabbed your arm.

You looked into his big, shining brown eyes. Would Haechan finally take responsibility for what he’d done?

But instead, Haechan whined, "It wasn't even me, though, it was Jeno!"

You yanked your arm away.

You had turned down Haechan's best friend Jeno a year ago. Ever since then, he'd been cruel to you. Was this his form of payback?

You huffed. "You’re the one who shared the photo in the first place! We're breaking up. Obviously."

Haechan made a face that reminded you of an abandoned puppy. "But why? I said sorry like a bajillion times!”

"Oh you're sorry, are you?" You said, your voice rising. "Everyone’s calling me a mega slut, when I’ve slept with one guy. You.” You groaned. “We only had sex four times, for god’s sake!”

"And those were the best four nights of my life!" Haechan said. "Please don't do this."

You scowled. "Why do you need me, anyway? You could have any girl you wanted… Mr Stud. Oh, face it, you loved the attention. All those guys clapping you on the back…”

Haechan screwed up his lip. "What do you want me to say? Those guys didn't even know my name before this!”

"Well you have plenty of time to hang out with them," you said. “Coz don’t have a girlfriend anymore.”

Haechan hung his head, brown hair flopping over his eyes.

You sniffed. You’d wanted to be tough, but you it was impossible. Tears began rolling down your cheeks. "What if my parents find out? Or my professors? Can people get expelled over this? Oh my god!"

Haechan stretched his arm put to comfort you, but he pulled it back at the last minute. He stood there in awkward silence as you sobbed.

After a few minutes, you finally managed to stop your tears. You felt utterly exhausted.

Haechan was still standing there. He was digging his nails into his palm, the way you knew he only did when he was extremely stressed.

You both stared at each other, waiting for the other to speak first.

"I'd like you to leave now, Haechan."

Haechan sucked in a breath, his brown eyes glistening. "Okay, I'll go. But I really hope you can find it in your heart to forgive me."

You scoffed and turned away. You couldn't look at Haechan right now. One glimpse of his cute nose or the moles on his cheek would be enough to melt your heart.

You didn't turn back until his footsteps had completely retreated.

---

The next three weeks were rough, though nothing was as hellish as that first day.

Mostly people had gone back to ignoring you, but you still avoided any parties or big gatherings.

What hurt the most was losing Haechan.

He wasn't just your boyfriend; he was your best friend too. You missed cuddling him at the end of a long day, you missed hearing him sing in the shower and then come out in nothing but a towel and a smirk.

You also missed the sex. You had barely started doing it, and you were enjoying getting to know his body and your own. You had just discovered that Haechan's weak spot was his ear lobe, and that if you kissed it just right, he would purr.

You should never have sent that stupid nude. You should never have trusted Haechan.

You felt like the ground had disappeared beneath your feet.

Haechan had texted you a thousand times, but you ignored them all. At least he had the decency to stay away from you in class. He'd just watch you from the other side of the room, a mopey expression glued to his face.

---

The next day, you were in the library, face buried in an organic chemistry textbook, when you started hearing increasingly loud murmurs.

You looked up and saw people running out of the library.

You were about to get back to your homework when you saw Winter running towards you.

She was waving at you frantically. "Y/n, come quick! It's Haechan!"

Your heart was in your throat as you followed Winter and the increasing crowd of students into the cafeteria.

When you saw Haechan, you gasped.

Haechan was standing on top of a table in the centre of the cafeteria. His arms were spread wide, and he was shouting at the top of his lungs.

"My name is Haechan and I'm twenty-two years old." He yelled. "And this..." He reached for his belt buckle. "Is me naked. Take a good look, people!"

The crowd collectively gasped.

Haechan shoved down his trousers and underpants to his ankles, and stood there, hand on his hips.

You could see his strong tanned legs, his muscled butt, the dark patch of curly hair at the base of his completely exposed penis.

You smacked your hand across your mouth, unable to believe what was happening.

Everyone was staring. Some people started giggling, others pulled out their phone and started recording.

Winter, who was standing by your side, started to boo, but you elbowed her in the ribs, shutting her up.

"Get down from there at once!" The piercing voice of the Dean shocked everyone. Most people dispersed.

Haechan got down and pulled up his pants. He walked towards you, seemingly unbothered by the yelling professors and laughing students all around.

He stopped in front of you and stuck his hand out.

"Hi, I'm Haechan," he said, smiling.

You shook his hand tentatively, ignoring the way your skin buzzed where you touched him.

"Err... what are you doing?" You asked, half chuckling.

Haechan's expression turned serious. "Look, Y/n. I know what I just did doesn't make up for what I did to you but... I'd really like for us to start again. I miss you, a lot."

You paused. "Hmm... I don't know about that, Haechan."

Haechan's entire body deflated. He looked devastated as he nodded solemnly. "I completely understand," he said, turning away.

"Wait!"

Haechan turned around. His eyes met yours.

"But… I will let you buy me a coffee. And we can take it from there."

Haechan could have beat his chest with happiness.

—

MAIN MASTERLIST

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twola · 1 year

Note

I always hate like “requesting” something because it feels like a forceful “write this for me now!” kind of thing, but a I’ve always had this smutty idea in my head where Arthur is getting a little weaker from the TB, but is also pinning after some cute girl in camp. Some wooing occurs and things start getting steamy~ but it’s her first time or she’s not super experienced. I feel like HH!Arthur would try to be the gentleman to show her a sweet, gentle time, but wouldn’t have the stamina for missionary, so his partner would pick up where he leaves off by riding him like the work horse he is. I just thin the scenario would be perfect for like sexy words of encouragement (def NOT thinking of his mare voice lines *wink wink wink*) plus Arthur getting taken care of too instead of just doing the caring. I have like 0 writing skills tho lol so if you ever found yourself in need of smutty I soo I would feel HONORED for you to bring my nasty Arthur thoughts to life

Ooh, TB whumpy smut… I’m sensing a pattern here. My poor boah, how I love to torture him…

This was a good one! Still working on a few more. I love and thrive on feedback so drop me a line if you liked it.

Regret Me Not

Arthur Morgan x F!Reader Smut (18+), MDNI

➵ Fic Masterlist ➵ AO3 Link

Regrets seem to take up much of his headspace these days... But for one regret of his, Arthur takes action with a little bit of urging on your part.

Arthur wheezes, covering his mouth with the back of his palm, the wet, hacking noise that scrapes out of his throat as he sits on the boulder south of Beaver Hollow, out of earshot of the camp.

Not that he needed people’s stares. He looks terrible enough that he gets looks of pity from the women, avoided by the men - and Dutch? Well, he is living in another reality.

Another cough rips through him, as he feels as if he were drowning within his own body. A small hand lands on his back. He looks up, rubbing his mouth with the back of his sleeve.

You stand over his shoulder, rubbing gently, concern alight in your eyes. You look down and dig into the pockets of your skirts.

“Here.” You say with a small smile, handing him a bottle of tonic.

He coughs again, butchering his thanks, as he takes the bottle from your hands, uncorking it quickly and downing the foul-tasting liquid quickly.

“How are you feeling?” You ask quietly, hand still resting on his shoulder, slowly, gently rubbing circles into his upper back.

Arthur wants to lean wholly into your touch. He wants to wrap himself into you and let you card your fingers through his hair. He wants to rest. He wants to sleep.

He wants, he wants - but alas. None of that was possible.

“Like hell.” He grits out hoarsely, tossing the empty bottle to the dirt at his feet.

“I’m sorry, Arthur.” You say softly. Your other hand moves to his back as well, rubbing at his other shoulder.

“ ‘S alright.” He murmurs, not wanting to let on how good your hands feel on him.

A silence settles in, and you rub at his shoulders for a few moments more before drawing your hands away from him.

“Well… I just wanted to check on you. See how you’re doin’. I’ll see you later, Arthur.” You say, and he can hear the crunch of gravel under your boot as you turn on your heel. You begin to walk up the path back toward camp, as he turns and follows you with his gaze over his shoulder.

Arthur wants. In the embracing of his mortality, the facade of propriety and the painstakingly built walls around his heart crumble in the face of his own death.

He has watched you for months. Yearned for months, wanted and needed your attention, always too self-conscious to reach out and touch.

Sister Calderon’s words echo in his ears with each step you take away from him.

“Take a chance that love exists.”

“D-do you wanna get outta here?”

His voice is hoarse, almost weak sounding. Nothing of the man that he used to be.

You stop, turning around, a small smile creeping across your face. “God, get outta this hell hole? Absolutely. Anywhere is better than these hills.”

His heart hopes.

“I gotta go grab some mail from Van Horn. Ain't much better though…”

“It ain’t here, Mister Morgan. Let’s go.”

—

Van Horn is just as decrepit as the last time he was here. Falling apart and full of the dregs of society, left behind by the churning wheel of progress. He mirthfully counts himself as one of them, he supposes.

He tucks the letters he retrieved into his satchel, moseying slowly toward the back of the dock, where you stand with your elbows on the railing, gazing at the river’s lazy waters. Northward, toward the mountains and the river’s origins.

“Y’ready there, ma’am?”

You look back at him but don’t move. “Already? Ugh. Camp’s just so…”

Arthur sidles up next to you, placing his own elbows on the railing, grunting in agreement. You didn’t need to go any further, he knew where you were going with your comment.

The camp was… well, a gloom has settled upon it. Dutch acting irrational, angry. The loss of Hosea and Lenny. Running from Pinkertons.

And his own impending demise, of course.

“What’re you gonna do after?” Arthur asks quietly and notices the stuttering breath you take as your shoulders drop a little.

“I… I don’t know. I don’t have much else than this.”

Arthur hangs his head, taking in a deep breath. A breath that seems to barely fill his ailing lungs, and he coughs slightly under the rim of his hat.

“Y’got a good head on you. You’ll do fine.” He grits out, voice hoarse.

You remain silent, your eyes set on the water of the slow-flowing river. A boat chugs southbound, heading toward Saint Denis.

“I don’t know how I’ll fare being alone.” You softly murmur.

He sighs. “I’m sure you can stay with Abigail or Missus Adler. Or Charles. You got people to watch out for you.”

“But not you.”

A pang, a sharp pain shoots through his chest, above and beyond the near-constant constriction of his lungs.

“No. Not me.”

You look up at him, a sheen of wetness over your eyes. It pains him as he looks back.

A tear rolls down your face and it’s everything he is not to lean over and cup your face in his hands and wipe your tears away.

“Sweetheart, you deserve-”

“Don’t. Don’t tell me what I deserve, Arthur Morgan.” You spit out, tears openly running down your cheeks.

Arthur sighs, looking back down at the water. It is murky, muddy, dirty right under the dock. Just like this damn town.

You push yourself into his surprised embrace, clutching at his shirt, and it takes him a moment to realize that this wasn’t a dream, and he winds his arms around you, pulling you against him.

“I wish you would stop hiding from me.” You whisper as he holds you to his chest, your cheek pressed against his breastbone, probably hearing the crackling failure of his lungs with each breath he takes.

He doesn’t know how to answer that. For years now, it’s been easier for him to keep that urn with the remains of his heart buried from all.

“I’m here… I’m here now.” He murmurs, resting his chin atop your head.

“I’ve been waitin’ for you, Arthur. Waitin’ and wishing for you to ask me to be yours.” You bury yourself in his embrace.

Fuck.

Arthur’s resolve cracks like a piece of porcelain.

“I’m just a fool. A fool for making you wait.”

You shudder against him, digging your fingers into his shirt, and your breath stutters as you try to stifle a sob. Pulling away, you look up at him, his bloodshot, sunken eyes, still the blue-green pools you would drown in.

You lean up on your toes, arms winding around his neck, but he turns his face away as you draw closer.

“No. I ain’t gettin’ you sick too.”

You frown, glassy-eyed, about to draw your arms from him before he leans down and presses his lips to your cheek, again and again, moving up toward your ear.

“But…. I’ll give you whatever else it is you want.” He rumbles, arms wound tight around you, his body arcing over yours.

You shiver in his embrace, pulling your head back ever so slightly to look him in the eye.

“I want whatever you’re willing to give me.” You whisper, hands moving up and clutching at his collar.

He leans his forehead against yours. “If you want a dying, washed-up gunsling-”

You interrupt, pressing up on your toes and kissing his cheek, “I want you, Arthur Morgan. I’ve wanted you for so long.”

So long.

Goddamnit. He’s been looking at you, yearning for you, for months. Before Blackwater and ferries and being chased by Pinkertons. Before Dutch became erratic, before all of these complications. When he was chasing tumbleweeds across the wild and open west.

He gives a shuddering sigh, and draws you closer, pulling you to him and placing his lips on the long line of your neck. You whimper as he pulls a bit of your pale skin between his teeth, suckling on it, hoping to leave a mark.

You throw your arms completely around his shoulders and begin to pant in his ear. Whimpers turn to whines as one of his large hands moves down from your waist to clench roughly at your rear, drawing you against his pelvis and his rapidly hardening cock.

“A-Arthur - please -” You moan, rubbing yourself against him, and he regretfully draws his mouth away from your skin, pink-tinged and wet from his attentions.

As much as he’d love to turn you around, throw up your skirts, and press himself into you for the sake of time, he knows you deserve more than that.

“Lemme get a room.” He pants, letting go of you, moving to adjust himself in his trousers. “Go on upstairs.”

You pull at the collar of your blouse to hide the evidence of your indiscretion and quietly nod, moving past him and slowly climbing the rickety stairs to the second story of the decrepit building.

He quickly pays for a room, and grabs the key from the clerk with a dismissive grunt, hurrying his way up the stairs to find you leaning against the second-story railing, waiting for him.

Arthur jams the key into the door’s lock, pushing it open, and lumbering into the room, where he immediately sheds the repeater strapped to his back and places it on the worn table next to the door. His gunbelt follows as you step inside, closing and locking the door behind you.

He places his hat atop the pile of guns on the table, looking back at you.

“Still want to do-”

You cut him off by closing the distance between you and throwing your arms around his waist.

He pulls you toward the bed, and places his hands on your waist, holding you still, as he sits on the bed, the worn frame creaking under his weight. He doesn’t spare it a second thought, eyes trained on you, and he gently pulls you to sit in his lap.

You cup his cheek gently, thumb tracing along his beard that he’s kept longer to hide the gauntness of his cheeks. His large hand lands on your thigh, squeezing it as he presses his face into the hollow of your neck.

You gasp as you feel his tongue on your skin, clutching at his shirt as you tilt your head back.

You shiver again as his hand creeps up under your skirt, finger gently rubbing against the seam of your bloomers, which dampens quickly under his ministrations.

“It's been a while,” He grunts out, unable to stop his hips from bucking up against your legs with you seated in his lap, the long line of him chasing your warmth.

“M-me too. Ain’t since-” you mewl into his ear as his fingers push your bloomers to the side and brush against the damp skin of your core, “some stable boy when I was sixteen- ahh - we - we didn’t know what we was doin’.” You gasp out as his pointer finger, thick and strong, dips inside your entrance, sheathing to the knuckle within your cunt.

He slides another finger inside you, groaning against your hair when he realizes how tight you are, clutching desperately at his digits, imagining how good you would feel surrounding his cock.

“I’ll be good to you,” He grits out, crooking his fingers within you.

“Oh-” You gasp, “I know, I know you will, Arthur.”

Arthur pulls you from his lap and lays you on the bed next to him, and immediately starts to shed his clothing, tossing it into piles on the floor as you join him, skirts and shirts thrown from the bed, a union suit and chemise - your bloomers land on the floor and he quickly climbs atop you, spreading your legs and fitting his hips in the cradle of yours.

In this old, dirty bed in this old, dirty room, he swears he has never seen something so beautiful as you sprawled out beneath him, the rise and fall of your breathing, the blush crawling down your cheeks to your neck, spreading out across your chest, to your pink nipples, pebbling as they are exposed to the cool air.

He leans down, balancing himself on his forearms, finding that spot on your neck again and nibbling at it, while one of his hands works its way to the space between you, grasping his hard cock and stroking it as he presses the swollen head against your core.

You mewl as he presses in, the head of his cock entering you, his hand moving from its base to frame your head again.

“God, you’re perfect.” He groans as he starts to press himself inside, inch by inch disappearing into your wet warmth, your panting high and fast in his ear as he suckles on your neck once again.

He thrusts, gently, and his hips press against yours as he’s buried himself to the hilt in your cunt. You mewl out a high whine, nails digging into his shoulder.

Arthur presses himself up slightly, looking down upon you. His fingers begin playing with the curling hairs at your temple, waiting for you to open your eyes, a sign that you’re used to his length and girth within you.

And when you do, he’s stricken. Your eyes flutter open and you inhale a breath with a sweet sigh. God, for once in his damn life, he’s doing something right.

Your arms wind around his neck as you press your lips to his cheek, he knows that you want to taste him, to mold your lips together and moan into each other’s mouths - he wants that too, but it’s a step too far. He’s already half afraid of spreading his sickness to you.

Arthur thrusts, gently still, but faster and harder than he had been, you squeal in delight, which spurs him into finding a rhythm, his body moving over yours.

He grunts, panting as he moves his hips, fucking into you and pressing you down into this old, uncomfortable mattress. He swears he’ll bring you to some nice hotel in Saint Denis and make love to you on a plush expensive mattress-

A constriction in his chest stops him mid-thrust.

He pants, wheezing, his hips slowing as he struggles to catch his breath. Christ, what a sorry excuse for a man he is - can’t even please a woman in the state he’s in.

You gently push on his shoulder, and he has the stamina, at least, to raise himself up and look upon you, cheeks blazing in shame.

“Here, maybe I should get on top?” You ask, your hand cupping his cheek while the other gently lays upon his chest.

He groans at the thought, his traitorous cock twitching as he’s buried in your cunt, causing you to gasp out.

“Alrigh’,” Arthur grunts, and steadies his knees while he pulls his hands to you: one beneath your lower back, one below your shoulder blades. In a jumble of limbs and skin, he rolls over, somehow keeping himself sheathed in you until you’re splayed atop him, your small hips spread out over his.

He has to admit, this was a good idea you had, even before you think to move, what a sight he’s given. His cock fully enveloped in your hips, the dark thatch of hair between your thighs mixing with the curls at his base. Up, up the curves of your waist, he trails his hands, gently skimming your sweat-slicked skin. Your breasts, small yet perky, he’s enraptured by the way your nipples pebble as he rubs his thumbs over them, the sweet sigh that leaves your lips as your head falls back.

God almighty, you’re the sweetest thing alive.

Your hands find purchase on his chest, fingers pulsing, as you roll your hips once over him. His breath stutters, eyes widening as inches of him leave you, only to gently return moments later.

“G-good?” You ask, a self-conscious fear in your eyes.

His hands clamp on your waist and help to guide your movement.

“So good, you’re so good.” He rasps, the end of his lips curling up into a smile.

You smile back, rolling your hips again, taking him and out, following the pathway to your own pleasure and dragging him along for the ride.

Your murmuring devolves into gasping moans as you continue to gyrate above him, squeezing your eyes shut, your fingers spread wide over his pectorals.

“That’s it. You’re alright, girl.” He urges, one hand moving from your hip to where you’re joined, his thumb parting your folds just above where he’s speared into you.

You moan aloud, giving no qualm to volume as he circles and presses against that little nub of pleasure.

“C’mon, sweetheart, you’re almost there.” He whispers as his hips jut upward into yours, he can see the far-off look in your eyes, the way your lips hang open, the shortness of your breath, and the slightly painful way your fingers are clenching into his chest. He can tell, your pulsing, squeezing, sweet little cunt is so close.

You ride him fast, like a horse at a gallop, and that blooming lava in his gut churns in a way that he knows he’s not far behind.

“A-Ar…” You stutter as your eyes close tightly.

“That’s it, that’s it, Darlin’.” He urges, his other hand tight on your hips, aiding your movement.

“Agh, oh god - Arthur.” You moan out, bottoming out completely as you throw your head back. He groans aloud as he feels your muscles constrict around his shaft, the sweet clutch of your cunt.

He thrusts his hips upward again and is rewarded with the sweetest mewl from your mouth, he cannot help but to whimper as he feels warm, wet slick start to seep from where you’re joined, his swollen and heavy balls covered in them.

You recover, gasping as your hands move to his chest, your hips grinding down on him slowly.

“I wanna-” you pant, catching your breath, “I wanna make you come.”

Arthur groans in response, hips bucking upward as his hands fly to your hips again, clenching them hard.

“Ain’t gonna- augh- ain’t gonna be hard to give you that.” He stutters out, knowing that the pull in his gut is getting stronger with each sweet movement you make.

“You’re so good -” You mewl, rolling your hips over him as he grunts, hands sure on your waist, fingers pulsing as his eyes flutter closed, his mouth hanging open as he approaches that precipice.

“You feel just like I’ve always dreamed.” You sigh, and all he can respond with is a thrust upward of his hips, to give you more, to give you himself, all that’s left of him.

He’s there, he’s there. His eyes shoot wide and he grunts, hands hard over your hips. “Get- you gotta, move.”

But you lean forward, not stopping the gentle roll of your body over his, and kiss his forehead.

“Come inside me.” You breathe, hands steady over his beating heart, “Give me all of you.”

Of all the stupid, childish things… but the resolve of a dying man, it is far less strong than before - weakening much like his ailing lungs.

“Please.”

He does, he does.

He grunts needily as he pumps his release into you. Staying sheathed in your warmth, not jerking himself into cold air.

Arthur sits up immediately, burying his head into the side of your neck, and suckles gently at the skin there as your fingers start to play with the wisps of hair at the nape of his neck.

He regrets, it’s all he has left, that again, he wasted his time, glancing shyly at you across the fire for all those months. All he can do is offer you a few fleeting moments of pleasure. He regrets, it’s all he has left, that he cannot taste your lips and the sweetness he knows lies beyond them.

“Darlin’-” he trails off into your skin, trying to compose himself.

I’m sorry- I’m sorry this is all that’s left of me - sorry I can’t give you nothin’ but -

You place your lips on his forehead gently before pulling back. You cup his cheeks in your hands and nod your head.

“Let’s not waste any more time.”

#red dead redemption 2 #red dead redemption #red dead fanfic #red dead fandom #rdr2 fanfic #arthur morgan smut #arthur morgan x female reader #rdr #rdr2 #arthur morgan #arthur morgan x reader #twolafic #red dead smut #rdr2 smut #tumblr prompt

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minniepetals · 1 year

Text

cry me a river | the watchers

— summary: sometimes to not protect is the best form of protection

— pairing: bts x reader

— genre: angst, mafia!au

— word count: 7.0k

— warnings: torture, arson

— PART 20 / previous post / masterpost

No one is coming to save you. Get up.

A splash of cold water and you’re awake once again. Back to reality. Back to being conscious. Reliving a loop that repeats and repeats until Nari is done having her fun and decides to finally end your life.

Your head is a mess, foggy with a pounding ache that refuses to leave. Beside you stands a man with chains holding his wrists together, sitting on a metal chair, his eyes alive and well, not a scratch on his face while he holds a glare watching you in the state you’re in.

Yoongi never did like watching people getting tortured whether they were his enemies or not.

He’s safe though, unlike you, because the Mins have been smart enough not to lay a finger on his hair, knowing if they were to return Yoongi in a state like you, Bangtan would have his head.

You admit your exes are quite scary when they’re upset, and anyone that touches any one of them would feel their wrath. You’ve witnessed it before, seen it during times when enemies would feel arrogant enough to put a hand on you. Although Namjoon is known as a calm and collected man who keeps his composure, he’s also quite possessive and overprotective. Anyone who tics him off would rather wish they went through hell and back instead.

So Junmyeon is smart in knowing not to touch Yoongi despite his initial offering in trying to please his daughter.

In the end, you’re the only one dying and getting tortured.

“Ah, I’m bored. Won’t you just kill me already?” You spit out a lump of blood from your mouth, licking at your teeth upon the dirty metal taste, and it only aggravates Nari.

You understand her.

She won’t kill you unless she’s had the pleasure of seeing you in pain and begging her for mercy, but you know better than anyone to go on your knees and beg to a wall. It’ll do you more harm than good.

“Why, why, why?!” Nari complains, her feet stomping as she clenches her hands into fists, throwing another annoying tantrum. “Why won’t you just cry?! Do you enjoy getting tortured so much?!”

“Yeah.” You chuckle in her face. “Who would have thought I was such a masochist? You should keep going, little celery.”

“Stop!!” She covers both her ears with her hands, trembling with anger, before deciding to turn to Sunoo who’s been in the room this entire time, doing the task that you’ve given him well, and pushes him forward.

He stumbles on his feet, knees hitting the floor, and for a moment Nari flinches before she puts on her brave act once again. “Hey kid, don’t you hate to see your little lady getting hurt?”

She’s switching her play once again, trying to aggravate Sunoo despite the other times she’s failed. What a smart kid, learning to read her and understanding that if he were to give her any reaction, she’d only continue hurting you even more.

“You really don’t care one bit about her?” She grabs him by the collar, dragging him on the floor to throw him right before you, forcing him up on his feet.

Sunoo meets your eyes where you stand, chains still holding you up without allowing your legs to rest one bit, and you see the way they falter for a split moment.

He wants to help, to do anything to ease the pain and have this whole thing shut down but he knows that the only way he can help is to not do anything. So Sunoo stays still even as Nari approaches you from behind, a dagger dragging up your neck and towards your face. More blood pools yet Sunoo doesn’t flinch.

Good boy.

She turns the blade to your nape, painting a scene down to your back which has the chains on you chattering loudly upon your trembling state. Your teeth clench tight, jaw ready to break as your pupils dilate, a breath wheezing out of you as Sunoo is forced to watch, his own eyes wanting to betray his facade.

You see the way his arms shake unsteadily from his side and warn him with your eyes to continue playing the act.

This is a play. You have to act the part or it’ll end.

He bites his inner cheek, hands balled into fists, but in the three seconds he takes to calm himself down, they release and the tension on his shoulders follows along. Sunoo looks away, rolling his eyes.

And Nari takes the blade from your skin.

“Why won’t any of you entertain me?!” She stomps around you, pushing Sunoo away, her eyes a murderous gaze as her grip on the hilt of the dagger clenched so tight to see veins popping. “You want to die so badly? I’ll gladly fulfill your wish, buttercup.”

The blade hovers in the air, Sunoo’s eyes widening, the light reflecting off the silver weapon, and when it comes right down before you, someone pushes her out of the way. Hard. And yet he wasn’t fast enough to push her out in time because Yoongi faces the consequence when he clutches onto his eye, blood dripping from his hand.

You stand there, frozen, as Nari screeches once again for things not going her way, and when her men make a move and Junmyeon walks in hearing her scream, your savior extends his free arm out to the side, displaying a phone with a certain number written in white.

His thumb hovers over the green call button, glaring up at them with a threat, and your brows furrow at how this came to be.

He was just chained up a few moments ago and how did he get his hand on a phone? Is that his or…

You take a look to the left just as Junmyeon follows along to find a dead man on the floor.

No way.

Yoongi’s always been a quiet man but you never expected he was this deadly. He broke out of the chains himself as well, and with both you and Sunoo on his side and the enemies on the other, perhaps he had been waiting for just the right moment to strike all along.

What a man.

You see his head tilted slightly your way and you catch the signal.

Min Yoongi, former heir to the Viper throne, doesn’t need your brain to figure out an escape route. He knows the escape route.

You give him a single nod and he clicks his thumb onto the call button, the phone immediately going into call mode, ringing up who you assume to be Namjoon. He flings it off to the side once it’s no longer useful, believing in the fact that your ex-husband will know what to do, just as the snakes come at him in full force, knowing if he’s getting Namjoon involved now, they’ll have no way out if they don’t kill him now.

While Yoongi busies himself with the enemies, Sunoo is quick to run to your side, his eyes panicking all over.

“Hey kid, think you can grab an axe and break these chains out for me?”

When one of the enemies falls to the floor with his axe sliding right before Sunoo’s feet, you give him a grin.

What great timing. It’s as if Yoongi heard you amidst the chaos he’s gotten himself into.

Little Sunoo picks the axe up with both his hands, and although it’s a bit heavy for him, you trust in him when he swings the blade right onto the pole that’s keeping you hanging. A few hits against them and the chains and you’re immediately folding onto your knees now that you’re no longer forced to stand.

Sunoo’s quick to catch you and help you with the fall when you go down.

“We have to go.” Yoongi returns to your side seconds later.

You look around the room, fascinated at the sight. Yoongi doesn’t like killing as much as the others do and yet he’s filled a whole room with bodies. His father is dead, his sister crouches in a corner, trembling uncontrollably, and you hear a hoard of footsteps and shouts closing in.

You take one look at Yoongi and immediately start fuming.

“Why the hell would you let yourself get hurt in my stead? You do realize that we’re back to being enemies now that Namjoon knows I killed his brother, right?” You punch his chest. “Are you mad?”

He observes you with confusion when you go to tear off a part of his shirt. “...You’re upset.”

“Of course I am. I hate owing anyone favors,” you say when you reach up to wrap the cloth over his bloody eye, tying it tightly behind him.

“You don’t have to owe me anything,” his voice is quiet. “This was…my apology.”

You stare at him as if he has two heads. “What? For what?”

“...You were right. We were still in love with you.” In love. Eleven years ago. When you walked out of their lives. “But we did nothing,” he continues. “We chose Namjoon and…as a result, you were left in a hard place. And I feel like, in some ways, whatever you’ve gone through in all the years after the divorce, perhaps a part of that was our fault.” He pauses. “For letting you leave.”

He has no idea.

But why is he bringing this up? Now? When your lives are about to die if he doesn’t make a move? Still, you say; “You don’t know anything.”

He nods. “I know but—”

“We’ll talk later.” You force the conversation to an end, grabbing the confused and awkward Sunoo so you can pull him into your arms. “For now, carry us,” you command and he blinks, unsure of what you’re trying to get at. “I’ve been tortured for who knows how long, I’m too weak to run. But you,” you beckon your head over at the broken chains, “you’re still strong.”

“My lady, I can run on my—”

“No, you can’t,” you immediately shut Sunoo’s suggestion down, “you’ll slow both of us down.” It’s cold but it’s the truth, and it’s the only way to get him to back off. Once you’ve dealt with him, you turn back to Yoongi, raising a brow his way, so he gets on his feet again but not before grabbing a gun from one of the dead enemies and handing it to you.

After that, Yoongi takes you in his arms where you’re holding Sunoo in yours, and he runs out of the room.

You give Nari a little scare by purposely missing when you shoot a bullet at her feet, smirking at her flinching, and once Yoongi’s out of the room and begins heading down a line of hallways you’ve never seen before, you prepare yourself by putting one arm around his neck, eyes pointed and alerted to guard his back.

Sunoo sits still in his place, not moving an inch, and when you hear footsteps approaching, you ready yourself.

Their bullets come flying past but never hit their targets. It only grazes the skin of both you and Yoongi though that doesn’t stop the two of you from doing your job.

You hold your strength, eyes blinking tightly one moment to keep your eyes from blurring up, and shooting down your enemies the next.

A headshot.

Two.

Three.

Someone stumbles and slows the crowd down on this narrow path.

“Hit that button up ahead, will you?” At Yoongi’s command, you use the long chain still wrapped around your wrist to swing it forward, hitting the red button to open up a door leading down three pathways.

Yoongi takes his pick and you keep your eyes on his back, taking down whoever is within your line of sight.

After a few more loops and turns, you come into a kitchen from a secret door, and once you’ve taken down the servants there with three bullets to each of their heads, Yoongi puts you down on a counter.

“What are you doing?” You ask when he runs to a lower cabinet, looking for something.

“Burning this place down,” he says when he picks up a red gas can and begins to pour the liquid all over the floor and toward the entrance of the secret passageway where the three of you came from.

“I never knew you were one to seek out revenge.” Whatever happened between the Vipers and him you sure weren’t good.

Nothing good comes out of being a child of a mafia leader.

“I’m not, it’s for you.”

“Me?” Your ears pick up more noise. “You’re wrong, the Vipers were never on my list.”

“Maybe not, but they did want you dead just a few minutes ago, didn’t they?”

“Well.”

No use arguing with that.

Once he’s done decorating the place with gasoline and adding a few metal cans into the microwave (deadly arsenic things, you’re sure), and has timed it for two minutes, Yoongi places a gas can in Sunoo’s lap before taking you from the counter, on the run once again.

You hear the microwave starting as you signal to Sunoo to pour the content of the gas can on the trail of Yoongi. He does so without hesitation, careful to not pour too much in one setting, all the while Yoongi leads with his run and you watch the back.

Once the can empties out, he throws it off to the side and you see your exit.

There’s a loud boom to indicate the microwave has gone off and just seconds later, the explosion and fire follow.

Yoongi bounces off on his feet, hurling the three of you onto the ground upon the impact of the fire, and you hear a loud screech ringing in your ears.

“Y/N?”

The two boys scramble to you after the initial shock, eyes staring with concern.

“I…” You hit your ear a few times, scrunching your face up. “I’m alright,” you say after a few seconds. “We have to hide though.”

So Yoongi picks you up once again, this time without Sunoo, and the little one follows closely behind when the man runs off.

You aren’t sure how long it takes them to find a good alleyway where Yoongi’s sure is safe, but you don’t have the energy to think when he places you down against the dirty ground. You lean against the wall from behind, breathing quickening when you finally have the chance to catch up to the torture your body had to endure.

“Just how long will Namjoon take?” You ask through clenched teeth.

“The manor’s an hour away.”

You let out a curse and Yoongi hurries to rip a piece of cloth off his shirt and wrap it over your torso in the same way you had done for his eye. He ties it more tightly, applying great pressure while you’re bleeding out, right before he wipes his hands of blood on his pants to take out a few greens.

“Run to the nearest drugstore. Find anything useful,” he tells Sunoo with a small wipe over the boy’s cheek, ridding off the blood there.

Sunoo doesn’t hesitate to obey.

“You’ve got a good soldier there.” Once he’s gone, Yoongi turns back to you to pay attention to your needs. “Have you been training the kids? I thought you didn’t want them involved.” He grabs ahold of a hand, inserting a thin piece of needling into the lock of the chain still wrapped around your wrist.

“I don’t,” you reconfirm his thoughts, “though I admit the kid did great not giving into Nari’s ploy despite it tearing him apart.” You take your time breathing in and out before speaking again. “Why have you kept all of it a secret?”

“My involvement with those snakes?” You don’t have to answer him for him to understand just what you mean. “I didn’t lie entirely about my past.”

“No. You’re not one to lie.” The chain releases from one hand and you breathe in a harsh breath of air upon the stinging sensation of your wrist. Yoongi moves onto the other one. “You were indeed someone who ran away, but who would have thought it was the Vipers you ran away from. Who would have thought you were a secret heir.”

He keeps silent for a moment. “You saw it yourself,” he says, “Nari’s adored by Junmyeon.” He doesn’t call him by father, you notice. “Ever since she was born, he spoiled her to no end, all the while his first son was neglected and left to waste.” Your father would have killed to have his firstborn a son. “I did all that I could to get his attention but in the end, it was futile.”

“So you ran away?”

He chuckles at that but shakes his head. “I simply gave up and blended into the shadows like how he wanted me to. Nobody acknowledged my presence and that’s when I left. They never cared to search for me. All their attention was on Nari.”

“Did you resent her?” You ask and he shakes his head once again.

It makes sense. Yoongi isn’t one to hate anyone.

“I played my role as the older brother, I protected her from harm and got her the things she wanted. The scar on my back was from me protecting her on the night the two of us were kidnapped by an enemy.”

“You sure love to jump in front of a blade, don’t you?”

He ignores your comment. “Nari was always greedy for more. She wanted the world.”

“Of course she did, that’s just who she is.” You adjust yourself on the wall, trying your best to not let it touch the blade trails from Nari. Everything hurts and stings and aches. “So why didn’t you tell them?” You ask, looking up at him. “They wouldn’t have cared.”

Every one of the boys went through something after all, so why did Yoongi feel the need to keep his connection to the Vipers a secret?

“Bangtan were enemies with Vipers back then,” he explains, a bitter smile resting on his face. “Namjoon saved me, as I told you. He picked up a discarded trash and raised it. If I had told him then that I was the son of his enemy, you think he would have allowed me to stay? Much less save me?”

“You think he would care now?”

It’s a question he knows the answer to, and yet something has still stopped him from giving his truth to them. Perhaps it’s his fear of the uncertain, because despite how much he knows the boys care for him, perhaps Namjoon would see it as a betrayal.

Yet he’s given his life unto him, even chose him when he had to choose between him and you.

Namjoon wouldn’t care now. No, he wouldn’t. And yet telling the truth has never been easy.

“What about you?” He turns the questions to you. “What’s your relationship with the Vipers?”

You chuckle at the changing of the subject but let it be for now. It’s not as if he owes you any answer. “Nari hated my pretty face,” you say simply. “Why do you think I’ve been beaten up so bad my face is a mess?”

“You’re still..-” Yoongi stops himself from finishing the sentence and you raise a brow, thinking you know just what he was automatically trying to say, but Sunoo returns just in time.

“I’d say between the time I called and our escape to here, it should be around half an hour or so.” He takes the plastic bag from Sunoo who takes a seat beside you, concern written all over his tiny face so you place a hand on his head, reassuring him. “Knowing them, they’re probably speeding down as we speak so they should be here soon but for now, keep conscious. Kid, talk to her so she won’t pass out.”

He takes something out.

Medicine, supplies, bandages.

“You’ll be alright, my lady.”

Perhaps it’s the fact that you know help will arrive soon so your body is catching up to the long-needed rest that’s coming. You feel each blink you take slowing down even as the treatment Yoongi is beginning on you should sting.

“Keep conscious, Y/N,” he warns with furrowed brows, and you watch the way he rips your sleeves to tend to the knife cuts there. Your heart rate picks up and you’re immediately alerted as you suddenly move to grab ahold of his hand, stopping him from doing anything more. Yoongi persists. “You need to—”

“Don’t let them touch me,” you say quickly. Quietly. “I don’t trust anyone, Yoongi, I’m only letting you do this because I know you’d rather have someone else kill a body than do it yourself, and in those three years I knew you, you’re not the type to caress another so easily, but don’t let anyone touch me. Don’t.”

When you look him dead in the eyes while using the last of your strength to grip his hand so tight it hurts you, Yoongi knows not to take your request lightly.

“O..okay.”

Only after you hear the promise leaving his mouth do you finally let your consciousness slip away.

It’s funny how you still hold onto his words.

Every once in a while, Yoongi will glance at where you’re lying against the wall with Sunoo by your side, while he keeps his eyes steady on the street, keeping an eye out for any familiar vehicles.

His feet jumps up and down consistently, feeling anxious as every second pass by. The longer this takes, the harder it will be on you, and even he himself can feel the fatigue trying to catch up on him.

The good eye he has left shakes, trying to keep clear, despite the ever so often images of flashes of blur, his legs threatening to give in.

Only when he finds a black van that rushes down the street to where the old mansion of the Viper lies, burning still, does he finally feel some sense of relief.

“Sunoo.” He turns to the kid, quick, and when Sunoo runs to his side, Yoongi points at where Namjoon walks out of a vehicle, standing a few yards away from the fire, observing with pointed eyes so as to not draw attention to the crowd that had gathered around.

There are sirens all around and Sunoo will have to run a good amount but someone has to stay with you and he can’t, not with his injured eye. Someone will catch sight of him and he can’t get in trouble with the law enforcement.

“Run to that man. Tell him you know where Yoongi is.” He makes sure the kid looks presentable, fixing his ruffled hair, wiping the dirt from his cheek, and cleaning down his clothes with his hands. There’s some blood on his clothes from where he was held by you but there’s not much he can do about that. “Be careful. Be discreet, don’t let the police see you. If they do, they’re going to question you and we don’t want that. You want your lady to get out of here safe and sound, don’t you?”

Sunoo nods and runs off and Yoongi takes a moment to look back at where you sit, just to make sure you’re still there, before watching the kid run over to where the fire is, now dying down. The Vipers aren’t completely destroyed, but with the death of their leader and heir now dead, nothing can be done to have them raise up to power again.

Not unless the living subordinates turn to him.

But he scoffs at the idea, knowing he’d never put himself in a position where he’ll rule a gang, much less his father’s mafia. They’ve abandoned him so why should he feel responsible to pick them up when they’re down?

He’s no longer associated with them, not since the moment he decided to run away.

All is dead and gone, and he knows you’ll make sure the members who’re still alive won’t continue that way once you’re awake.

They did kidnap you after all, and who can ever forgive that?

“Yoongi!”

His head perks up at the call and before he can register it, Namjoon’s body is slamming against him in a tight hold as if all those moments he’s been away from them have been the most horrifying thing he’s ever gone through.

They’ve never been good at dealing with one of them out of their sight after all, not that Yoongi can blame them. He’s just the same. So he welcomes the hold, feeling more arms coming around his other sides, and when the leader presses his hands onto his face, his eyes are quick to turn from that worried stare to a deadly glint.

“I’ll kill him,” his voice lowers.

“It’s alright, I’ve already done it.”

“What happened to you? How-”

“Before that,” he cuts Jungkook off to turn to the dark alleyway where you still lie, and rush over to your side without concern for his eye. “We have to get Y/N help. Now.”

The first reaction was initial confusion, before their brows furrow in recognition of the face of the woman they once loved years ago, lying against a wall all battered up and beaten, still holding onto life.

Barely.

Yoongi takes you in his arms, careful to not hurt you too much, and Taehyung tries to stop him. “What’re you doing? You’re still hurt, let someone else—”

“No,” he says, voice so formidable that declaration alone is something he isn’t willing to back down for anyone. The six of them stare at him with confusion, shocked at this quiet man who doesn’t usually talk back. And when Yoongi adjusts you even closer to him with such a careful approach, it takes them back even more. “Don’t you remember back in London? When she broke down mad the last time we saw her? She’s afraid of strangers touching her. Men.”

Yoongi’s right.

They’ve seen it with their own eyes how much a touch can affect you, trigger you, but it doesn’t clear them of suspicion on why you’re in this mess in the first place and why Yoongi is the one taking care of you.

“What about you?” Jimin asks. “She ran away from us too.”

“We were kidnapped together and even though she’s still frightened, she’s given me a bit of trust and it’s my job to make sure I can fulfill that trust.” He picks you up and walks over to the vehicle that finally slid up. “I owe her that much, don’t I?”

No one can refute that and so they let him go, before silently following along.

Sunoo who had stood aside, silent as he watched over everything, hesitates when they all climb in behind Yoongi, his eyes shaking, hands trembling by his side, unsure of what to do until Hoseok, who was the last in line, crouches down in front of him.

“What’re you doing, kid? We can’t leave you alone here now can we?” He says, a hand coming over to ruffle his hair. He recognizes the little boy who had been amongst the crowd of kids you saved the night you went after Jummy and Ying. “Frightened, were you? It’s alright now, we’ll get your dear lady to safety.”

“Will she be alright?” His voice breaks a little, knowing now that it’s alright to let a bit of that brave face off his facade. “I…I watched her…and…and I couldn’t do anything.”

What a ruthless world for a child to grow up in.

He was forced to watch the very person who saved him getting hurt and beaten, and catching a brief moment of what you looked like in Yoongi’s arms, Hoseok knows that must not have been easy to watch. Not for a child. Not for him.

He doesn’t know what to say so he takes the kid’s hand and they climb into the van together.

The whole ride, after Namjoon phones Mingyu to let him know you were with them, is silent to the max. There are a lot of questions Yoongi knows they wish to ask. For example, why was he kidnapped? Why was it the Vipers? What sort of relationship did he have with them and why hadn’t they know anything? There were always chances of someone in the group getting harmed by previous abusers but they’ve all been dealt with, Namjoon took care of all of them, yet Yoongi has been the only one who never spoke on anyone who could be out for him.

For all they knew, he didn’t have anyone in particular. For all they knew, he was just a poor little kid who needed the world to treat him better.

So why the Vipers?

And why were you kidnapped as well? They can excuse whatever your story is because it isn’t much of their business to know every little detail about you, but Yoongi? They’ve known him almost their entire life and yet this one detail he failed to share with him was the very reason they couldn’t find him.

And if he was kidnapped, wouldn’t that mean getting more injuries than he’s showing right now?

The bloody eye is bad but compared to the knife trails and gash marks and wounds cutting so deep they still bleed out almost everywhere, Yoongi’s treatment by the Vipers was clearly much better than yours.

They have many questions to ask him but knowing the number one priority is to get you to safety, they keep silent for the moment.

You’re rushed into a small hospital under Bangtan, and while Yoongi needs to prioritize his eye, he makes sure to be there when you’re brought into the surgery room and tells everyone off so they don’t touch you.

You need help, he knows. He knows it more than anyone really, because for a lot of the torture you went through, he saw it with his very own eyes, and yet the fact that you trusted him enough to fall asleep before his eyes and let him touch you, Yoongi knows not to betray that trust.

He can’t.

So Namjoon allows his people to back off, and the seconds tick by once more while they wait for your crew to arrive.

Yoongi makes sure to follow procedures that’ll help you ease a bit, to slow down your time under the doctors’ instructions, and it’s in this moment do the boys come to see the rare times Yoongi stops allowing himself to blend into the background and do something. He usually keeps himself invisible, quiet, off to the side, keeping his expression at a standstill so no one who doesn’t know him well would be able to tell what’s on his mind.

This Yoongi panics. This Yoongi doesn’t know what expressionless means.

This Yoongi fears.

Only when Mingyu shows up do they finally convince him to get himself treated.

He sits in the room across the emergency room with Hoseok and Seokjin standing off to the side, getting treated by a doctor of their own, while the rest of them stand around outside, waiting for the hours that they know it’ll take to treat you.

Yuna, your blind warrior, sits on the floor of the hospital, her arms hugging her knees with anxiety rocking her body back and forth. She doesn’t say a word but everyone can hear the little sniffles she does ever so often.

She’s like a child waiting on the news of her mother’s accident and everyone knows if it’s bad news, she won’t take it well.

Yeonjun has a book in hand while he sits on a chair beside her, eyes scanning the text though no pages flip no matter how much time has passed.

“I’m sorry,” little Sunoo says when Mingyu crouches down to his level, finally allowing himself to shed the tears he’s been unable to shed in a room full of strangers. “I’m so sorry,” he tells your right hand man, fists knuckle white when he clutches onto his blazer. “I couldn’t protect her.”

Such little shoulders carrying a heavy weight. He worries more about your wellbeing than his own, than the fact that he had to see a whole building catching on fire with people still inside, hear gunshots and people dying, being held at gunpoint, the fact that he could have died and he worries only for you.

Mingyu places a hand on those shoulders, shaking his head. “No one will blame you for that, Sunoo. Not even boss.”

“You don’t understand, I…” He pauses to catch his voice that threatens to bury down the lump in his throat. “Do you remember what you told me when my lady finally completed her rescue plan? When I told you I wanted to be a Reaper?” How can Mingyu forget? “You told me I had to first learn how to manipulate my feelings, that I had to hide them well, and that I needed to learn how to restrain myself during times that’ll force me to act against my will. You told me I had to be a good bystander first and initially, I couldn’t figure out what you meant. Being a good bystander? It..”

More tears fall down those precious eyes, trailing down his cheeks, hanging onto his chin before they inevitably fall to the floor. “I understand now,” his voice breaks. “I know…I know what it means and I…I never want to do it ever again.” His feelings overwhelm him so much he’s unable to stand on his two feet. Sunoo’s knees buckle underneath him and it meets the floor yet he continues to speak. “Lady Y/N was hurting and she…she was chained up and she couldn’t even sit. They forced her to stand the whole time they tortured her. She screamed and…and yet she laughed when that evil lady taunted her and every time I wanted to give up, to yell at the lady to stop, Lady Y/N always warned me not to. It was like she was saying…as if she was saying ‘It’s alright. It’s alright, I can take this. Just play your part, just pretend you don’t care about me, and I’ll be alright.’”

“You must never show them you care. Father will have you dead and I will pay more of the consequences.”

“If you stay silent, it will hurt less.”

“Do not move even a muscle when they hurt me. Do not stand in father’s way or our whole secret will be blown and none of us will survive.”

“This is the only way we can live.”

Yuna’s eyes lost.

Yuna’s eyes are lost.

Yuna.

Yunayunayuna.

Nakyum.

You reminded them constantly of what could happen to them were the truth to be revealed due to a mishap, due to their carelessness. Sunoo had to go through days watching you hurt, the Reapers spent years in silence. Watching.

And no day was easier than the other. There was not a day they wanted to step in, to defend you, to take the whips and blades and all the torture tools from the hands of your perpetrators and shove it up their asses, doing the same they’ve done to you. There was not a day Mingyu wanted to smash his fists onto their faces until they were dead. No, he’d continue even after they were dead.

There was not a day they wanted the revolt to happen so soon.

The day after?

“No,” you’d say. “Be patient. Hold on.”

But they didn’t want to hold on, they didn’t want to see more of you having to go through all those pains and agony and yet they had to. If they wanted to save you, if they wanted you to live, they had to.

They had to stay silent.

They had to watch.

They had to do nothing.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t protect her,” Sunoo says.

“I wish I can protect her,” Yuna screams. “Why can’t I protect her?!”

“You know why.”

“You did well.” Mingyu squeezes his shoulders tight, lips pressed into a thin line. “You not protecting her protected her. You did well.” He places a hand behind his head, pressing him into an embrace and the kid cries and cries, his screams buried against Mingyu’s chest. “You did well,” Mingyu repeats. “They would have hurt her more if you had done something so you did well. You did so, so well.”

No one ever told them that but the Reapers know that they, too, had done well.

Everyone in the room knows just what Mingyu means when he said not protecting meant protecting because they’ve all been through it. Namjoon has the power to never go through such things ever again but he’s seen it time after time when he was younger.

Those days his brother still lived with him — still lived — with their abusive father, both of them unable to do a thing but watch when one would get hurt. Those days when times were rougher, when his brother left for a mission and his close subordinates had to keep still and not go against his father when he was hurt otherwise they’d die. Those days when he was powerless.

“Save me,” you begged Seokjin in a moment of madness.

So broken but so full of life before it all disappeared within a split second, turning dull and lifeless like a corpse inside a living body.

You’ve never uttered that in your entire life, have you? He’s sure you haven’t, not with the way you are. Even the you then was stubborn to call for help because she was too insecure, too hesitant and always overthought everything, walls built so high even the people she loved were unable to break through.

You were too broken to ask for help and they’ve been too dumb to realize it until now.

“Save me.”

Seokjin can never forget that day, he can never forget the way you froze when he held you, trying to reel you back into reality after your initial explosion. The way you shakily reached out for him, bloody hands dirtying his white button-up shirt, and looked up at him as if he was the only one you could trust in that moment.

Perhaps a memory flashed into your mind then, perhaps you remembered the way he used to care for you, the way he used to be the one to ground you when you broke down and were having panic attacks. He held onto you when the two of you still loved and you looked for him to calm down, to settle back into the peace he’d always give you when you saw him. He’d be the fastest to help you escape from those nightmares and return you from where your mind would go.

He’d sing lullabies to help you sleep and you’d rely on him the most when it came to nightmares because Seokjin was an insomniac. He didn’t sleep. So during times when you’d awake from a nightmare or needed someone to pull you out of it, it was Seokjin that was always there.

Perhaps in your moment of weakness, you remembered those times and perhaps that’s why you turned to him. That’s why you asked him to save you.

But he knows that right now, you’d get upset if he were to bring it up and take responsibility for you uttering those words to him. The things you’ve gone through after you left them, after the divorce with Namjoon, are things he can only imagine in his head. Seokjin has gone through his fair share of trauma and one traumatic patient can see it in another who wants to hide it well.

You’ve been through stuff, horrible stuff, with Daejung, Ying, Jummy, Leehyung, and so many more on your list. At first, he thought you taking over the throne of your father was just an act of rebellion, but through the times he’s spent with you, he realizes, as do the rest of the members, that the people on your hit-list, the people you’re going after, are only the people that have done you wrong.

Seokjin should have known that someone who was as kind and gentle as you were all those years ago couldn’t have just changed without reason. No one changes that drastically without reason.

But it’s clear as day to all of them that you’d rather they rot in hell than find out the truth to those reasons. That’s why Namjoon refuses to investigate anything involving you and that’s why they’ve all agreed that it’s best to simply leave it at that.

Namjoon wants to know more than anyone what happened to his brother but if finding out about him means knowing more about you, then he’d rather wait and let you tell him instead. Because through their experience, they know more than anyone that figuring out the truth of something when it’s unwanted will only hurt that person, and as much as Namjoon felt infuriated with you at first, he understands.

They all do.

And you would hate them more than you do now if they were to figure out something you’ve been keeping a secret your entire life. No one should ever force an answer out of anyone, and they know that because of your silence, they do not deserve to know.

So until you can trust them, if it ever comes to that point, they will remain ignorant to the fact on purpose. Because why find out when there is no reason to?

Seokjin can’t be your anchor, he won’t, because you no longer trust him enough to even touch you. You’re scared of the world, the whole world, and the only one who can now calm you down as fast as he had done then, is Mingyu, your second in command.

For now, his role is to only stand to the side and watch. Though he knows watching in itself is something you won’t allow him to do. You won’t let him see your weaknesses anymore, you won’t let him near, and you won’t ask him for help.

And all of that is entirely his fault.

819 notes · View notes

okay-babe · 2 months

Note

Dottie!! I just saw your post about preview requests and I'm frothing at the mouth excited rn :))))

Is there any chance you've got a preview to share of that southern gothic inspired fic you've talked a little bit about? I've been excited about it since you ran the poll for it weeks ago!

Ahh! Tysm, I am in love with ur writing!!!

The Hard Part - An Alastor x Reader Series Preview

synopsis: Sometimes, the decisions we make in life come back to haunt us even in death, and in this series, our reader learns the hard way that deals made with a beating heart must be tended to, even when the flesh has long since grown cold... tags: alastor x fem! reader, established relationship, alastor and reader are married, angst, childhood friends to lovers to wannabe strangers to ?, mentions of illness, mentions of discomfort note: Oh my gosh, Anon 😭 catch me openly weeping over how sweet this ask is, you're too cute! I have so much in store for this southern gothic series I'm doing (though we won't be able to get into that vibe too much until around part 2, unfortunately) and am so so excited to share it with everyone soon! Here's a little taste of what we've got going on so far :) For anyone who has an interest in learning more about this fic, feel free to check out some of the info about it here.

With a start, you shot up in your bed, hand clutched tightly to your chest.

From the depths of your stomach, you felt bile rise, nails digging into your flesh to help fight off the sensation of stifling nausea and chills.

This was hell. Literally and figuratively.

All around you, the air felt stifling and almost impossible to breathe, your lungs wheezing with effort at each futile attempt at an inhale.

"Everythin' alright in there, sweetheart?" A familiar voice called out to you from behind your bedroom door, the cheery tone unsuccessfully hiding the edge of concern that could be heard there.

You gasped around the growing lump in your throat, the strangled sound that followed just loud enough to be heard beyond your walls in spite of how hard you tried to keep yourself quiet.

You hated this part, the helplessness and anguish of it all always made worse by the fact that you were almost never allowed to just go it alone.

There was always a witness to your suffering, someone to see you crumble to pieces before their very eyes.

Your heart lurched uncomfortably within your chest as the door flew open just as you knew it would, the small woman standing on the other side standing there with shadowed and fearful eyes.

She hated this part just as much as you did, but you supposed in a few ways she might have even had it worse.

What in hell would she do if you died under her less than watchful eye?

How could she move on?

What would she ever tell your husband?

"Aw shit, doll..."

She muttered under her breath, the panic in her expression enough to make you wish it were possible to console her around the choking mass in your lungs.

She hadn't signed up for all of this, at least not entirely willingly.

It broke your heart to see her so very afraid for you, your life half clasped within her own typically careless hands.

"It's gonna be alright, I'm here."

#hazbin x reader #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel x you #hazbin x you #hazbin imagine #hazbin hotel imagine #hazbin hotel #alastor x reader #alastor imagine #alastor x you #alastor fluff #previews #requests #.writes

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captainjacklyn · 7 months

Text

Love, Love, Love Part 2-ish

A/N : continuation of this and this, hope you liked the first part because I'm on an absolute roll. To all those waiting for a continuation of many of my series, I am so sorry. I'm serious guys pls forgive me I know it's been a really long time since and I still need to finish other requests I started.

Context : Rollo gets transferred to NRC for a few months, The Headmaster decides that he would be staying at Ramshackle Dorm much to Malleus' dismay (along with grim and the first years who are aware of the truth). Yuu doesn't find it nice either but with time they allow the third year to open up to them, eventually growing mutual respect for one another, perhaps some friendship..and a bit more.

Warning(s) : fluff, mostly crack, hints of rollo liking Yuu, this is a continuation of some sort to my joke so pls understand that it isn't from the beginning, Rollo might be OOC he's just scared of Yuu, they/them pronouns for Prefect, the first years who weren't present in glorious masquerade find out and try to push rollo away. (it doesn't work) is this stolen from peter rabbit ? Yes. Most. but not all of it.

The story starts...now ?

Something suspicious was stirring around the 'relationship' between Yuu and the strange newcomer. At least it looked like it to their close friends who were already bitter about the idea of that religious trauma-induced student coming but even more so when that horrible influence hung around their prefect.

It wasn't as if they didn't trust Yuu, they didn't trust him ! He was being all close with their mom friend pal, knowing what he did, they weren't going to stand around and do nothing. They're gonna do something about it, about him.

It all began the day the Adeuce duo and Epel witnessed Yuu casually speaking with grey haired priest and HE WAS SMILING?! OH HELL NAH GET YOUR EYEBALLS OFF OF THEM- but truly they misunderstood, for now at least, since most of the resident's interactions regarded around Yuu, threatening Flamm..Of ripping his guts out.

"Ace, Deuce!" Grim shouted through the halls as he ran towards them, the both of them turned around to see the raccoon panting and wheezing from his sprint. "Hey there Grim- Woah what was that?~ You trynna imitate being a cheetah now?" Ace teased, his remark making the fire cat retort with a 'hey!' before Deuce stepped in to ask the obvious question. "What's wrong?" forgetting his comeback, Grim immediately switched back to panic mode.

"My Henchman! A-A-And that weird suspicious dude! They're SPENDING TIME TOGETHER AND BEING ALL WEIRD MUSHY LOOKING!" He exclaimed, his revelation shocking the two freshmen who's eyes widened in horror. "What- How?! Didn't prefect say they hated that guy?" Ace sputtered as he tried making sense of the situation, he was a bit confused as to why he was reacting this way but with the amount of braincells left he couldn't care anymore.

"That's what I thought! But this morning I found them- laughing and talking to each other!" he added more fuel to the fire, ace and deuce exchanged concerned glances and spoke in unison. "We gotta get the others."

"Yes !" Grim smiled as he threw a fist in the air. It took a good second for him to realize they didn't say what he thought they would.

"...Wait what- AH!" But he didn't have time to argue as they grabbed him by the neck and made their way to find the others.

Passing through Savannaclaw, Pomefiore and Diasomnia almost felt like an eternity to fetch Jack, Epel and Sebek. Especially the half-fae as he was persistent on the idea of staying by his future king's side during the entire duration of Rollo's stay. After sharing the news, they all bolted to Ramshackle dorm, and there they saw it.

Yuu was having a conversation with the same young man that dropped them down a trap door when they came around for a celebration. The same young man who tried to erase magic forever. And they were speaking like they've been friends for years.

The group of first years were hiding behind a tree, in between the gates of the not-so-abandoned dorm. All of their heads comically poking out to take a peek at the flabbergasting sight. "That's a lot of smiling." Epel commented as he watched the prefect supposedly laugh at something Rollo said. (They weren't, they quite literally started to laugh because of Rollo's genuinely terrified face) "More than before even." he continued, Ace added on with another remark, "They're showing a lot of teeth."

Then, Jack made a very bold statement which earned collective noises of disgust from the rest of the team. "Do you think they like him?" Sebek's face morphed into horror, Grim started gagging, Deuce looked like he was going through fifty existential crisis all at the same time, meanwhile Ace was debating on what he should express. Either way they were all mortified.

"They don't like him, they're just being nice! Yuu is nice all the time, they always smile at us!" the grey monster retorted, denying any further supposition. "Well..not like that." They flipped their heads towards the pair, and Yuu's hand rested on Rollo's shoulder as he chuckled nervously.

"Could you imagine? You trying to take over the world again? What a joke ! I would bury you alive honestly!" the non-magic student exclaimed as they broke into another loud laughter. Rollo could only nod along a little offended but mostly nervous, "Right yes no that would- that won't ever happen." "Yes because I will actually force-feed you the flowers you tried killing us with."

"😨"

"😄"

Yay. Part 3 coming up soon.

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christinesficrecs · 5 months

Note

do you have any recs for fics post 3B or post season 4? Thank you!! Love your blog 💜💞

I'm so glad you asked! 🩷 This is my "omg, this was so good" list. 😊

Written in the Scars by dr_girlfriend | 15.3K | Explicit

Stiles stared into eyes that were just a little lighter than even the day before, looking almost beta-gold in the harsh lighting. His nose was just a little less uptilted, the moles on his face not quite where they used to be. The scar on the bottom of his chin from when he fell off the swings in third grade was just gone. He seemed a little bit taller, his shoulders a little bit wider.

With trembling fingers Stiles folded his left ear forward, craning his neck. A wheezing breath escaped him, his legs suddenly feeling weak with relief.

The mark of the Oni was still there, the one that meant self.

Stiles was still himself. For now.

The Walls Are Breathing In by secondstar | 41.8K | Explicit

Nothing could go wrong. It was just supposed to be a safe trip to the Nemeton. But this is Beacon Hills and things are rarely that simple. Welcome to the life of Stiles Stilinski.

Or, that time that Stiles accidentally became a sorcerer against his will.

Someone Else’s Dream by theroguesgambit | 36.6K

Post-3B. Derek has gone missing, and Stiles’ dreams might be the only way to save him.

out of the nightmare, into your arms by tryslora | 6.4K

Stiles wakes up in the bathtub. It’s the third time sleepwalking this week, and at least this time he’s in the house. Ever since the Nogitsune, he’s had nightmares and nothing, and no one seems to be able to stop them. Until Derek.

Full On Rainstorm by BarlowGirl | 10.5K | Explicit

He catches Derek by the arm and Derek lets himself be turned, surprised when Stiles shoves a small box into his hands. “I don’t know if you still celebrate it or what but… I wanted you to know someone was thinking about you. Happy birthday.”

Then he squeezes Derek’s arm and bolts, gone before Derek can think to stop him.

He opens the box standing there, only to find one singular, misshapen, sloppily-frosted, cupcake, with a candle in the box next to it. It’s kind of squished despite the paper towel all around it to keep it from banging around in the box.

If You’re Going Through Hell (Keep Going) | 48.5K

Stiles thought everything leading up to Allison’s death was hell, but he was wrong. Spending senior year dealing with the pack’s dismissal of him while secretly training to be Deaton’s replacement was hell. Feeling guilty and hating himself for what the Nogitsune did was hell. Being in love with someone who would never love him back was hell. Well, if you’re going through hell, keep going.

Not Quite Lost (Not Quite Found) by alocalband | 25K | Explicit

A year after the nogitsune is defeated, Derek is living a quiet life in the mountains above a small town in Colorado.

Then Stiles shows up.

The One You Choose by Asterekmess (Livinginfictions) | 13.4K | Mature

Stiles hadn’t seen Scott in over a week, except for glances he caught during school hours.

Saturday Night At The Movies by aussiebee | 7.3K | Explicit

After running into Stiles at the late night movies, Derek realises just how badly Stiles is handling the post-nogitsune fallout. He knows the feeling.

Sense of Home by siny | 53K | Explicit

Home can be a place, but it can also be a person.

After the events with the Nemeton, Stiles starts suffering the consequences of their sacrifice. A journey he attempts to make on his own, but only becomes worse with every step he takes. In the process he seeks comfort in an unexpected place and it draws him toward an unexpected person.

Illuminated by ZainClaw | 5K

“Because I’m falling in love with you and it’s scaring the hell out of me.”

Start Small, Like Oak Trees by SmallBirds | 24.2K

The months following Allison’s death have passed Stiles by in a haze of monotony. He sleepwalks through days that seem to lose their color, an unwilling passenger in a body he no longer trusts. Eventually, he thinks, he’ll just fade away. He isn’t sure anyone would notice. Then, during a spur of the moment grocery run, he stumbles upon Derek Hale attempting to console a lost child, and for the first time in recent memory the world doesn’t seem so awful. He’s not sure what he’d been expecting when he eventually convinces Derek to move into the Stilinski’s spare bedroom, but a newfound passion for weeding and topsoil certainly isn’t it.

Nitesky by thepsychicclam | 7K

Stiles has trouble dealing with the after effects of the nogitsune, and Derek finds him sitting on his roof.

Honey, Can’t you See (The Bloodstains on my Teeth) by Loup_Aigre, TroubleIWant | 44.9K

“Mr Stilinski.” Deaton’s usually impassive face betrays a hint of surprise today, maybe even disappointment. “You haven’t changed your mind.”

Stiles tips his chin up, smiling against his irritation. “Nope,” he confirms, so cheerily it bites. They had arranged this weeks ago, yet Deaton was apparently betting Stiles wouldn’t go through with it in the end. Fuck that. He doesn’t know what it’s like out there, not really. He can afford to hold himself aloof and uninvolved, knowing his druid power is enough to keep him safe in this little office. Stiles can’t. Scott’s pack has got to protect this whole town, and Stiles’ spark isn’t enough to protect all of them while they do it.

^^^technically not post-3B but soooo good!

#asks #sterek fics #ficrecs #marnz #tw season 3 #post 3b #post nogitsune stiles

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matthewtkachuk · 2 years

Text

you are the artist and i am the paint - quinn hughes

One week with Quinn in the offseason reveals several truths (aka best friends to lovers with a dash of mutual idiocy)

pairing: quinn hughes x reader

warnings: the ush (drinking, angst, etc. etc.), could be an artist au if you squint

words: 4.6k

a/n: this is the canucks thanksgiving video's fault. also @hotanddistraught's fault. big ups to @antoineroussel for making me a custom gif and also proofreading the hell out of this thing love you. currently stuck in a calgary airport hotel because canadian airlines suck, but the canucks nabbed a win so ya'll get a treat <3

Summer is bittersweet.

For every positive feeling you have over taking a break from your schooling and having the opportunity to make some cash at your summer internship, there are ten more negative ones that revolve around the end of the hockey season taking your best friend away from you.

It’s silly, likely, to let one person’s presence, or lack thereof, dictate the general tone of your four month break from school. A bit ridiculous, really, to miss someone terribly when you saw them just last week when you dropped him off at the airport and leaned into the hug at departures for a minute too long. And pathetic, most definitely, to watch his private instagram story more than once for the brief glimpse of a real, genuine smile.

Passing on the opportunity to go out for drinks in Yaletown—on a Wednesday in May for no reason other than the majority of your friend group was free of academia for the next few months—was not at all typical behavior for you. Your friends liked to joke that there wasn’t a happy hour in the metro Vancouver area that you hadn’t personally shut down.

The teasing didn’t really bother you; what was so bad about mixing your frugal nature with yummy cocktails and appetizers? That blasé attitude was likely at least 90% responsible for the confusion in the group chat. The other 10% related to your friend Daniel’s confirmation that he would be showing up and using his ‘family credit card’ to get the first round. If there was nary a happy hour you met that you didn’t like, there wasn’t a free round of drinks you didn’t love.

Regardless, they finally leave you alone almost 45 minutes after arriving at the first club, other than the occasional shaky photo of someone’s drink every now and then.

The silence is kind of nice without your loud mouthed roommate and the rest of your friend group who had spent the better part of the late afternoon pregaming. Nice, but lonely, and it only reminds you that your best friend is on the other side of the continent. Luckily for you, the true reason behind your uncharacteristic skipping of girls’ (+ Daniel) night out makes itself known by the erratic vibration of your phone somewhere in your duvet cover.

Less luckily for you, you can’t find the damn thing until you grab the bottom corners and shake out the heavy blanket and send your phone flying onto the floor. It’s a struggle to grab it before the phone call ends and flop back onto your now half-made bed, and it’s obvious by the way you struggle to catch your breath while also muttering a greeting into the phone.

“Were you working out?”

The question has you doing some strange combination of a laugh, wheeze and choke that takes a solid minute to pull yourself out of before you reply, “Nope.”

You can almost picture the exasperated yet fond smile that might be taking over Quinn’s face as he asks, “You doin’ alright without me?”

“Never,” is your answer before you quickly shift gears into recapping the latest roommate boy drama and how much you hate your manager.

It’s a long conversation, the kind you have with a friend you only catch up with once a year despite only being away from each other for a week. You love hearing about the shenanigans Quinn’s getting up to with his brothers; love the feeling of relaxation and relief that practically radiates through the phone and his tone as he speaks about home. When he tells you about thinking about maybe taking a class at UMich this summer, you only encourage him—which is a far cry from the taunt Jack threw at him when he had first brought it up. The skin of your cheeks grows warm when you overhear his mom asking who is on the phone followed up by a sweet “My mom wants me to tell you she says hi.”

At some point throughout the night you turn off the big light and turn on your salt lamp, jump into your pajamas and tuck yourself deep under the covers. It’s easy then, in the warmth and comfort of your duvet and with Quinn’s voice lulling you to sleep to close your eyes.

“So, uh, I was wondering if you maybe wanted to come stay here for a week or two in July...?” You think you maybe hear him ask.

Unfortunately for Quinn, your only answer is the rustling of sheets and a soft snore.

The beginning of summer passes a lot like it began, although with you partaking in more after work drinks with friends than not. You work and you don’t study and you certainly don’t mope around downtown Vancouver counting down the days until September.

Quinn starts taking a class that fits in with his schedule of spending as much time as he can with his family and friends back home while also keeping up his offseason training regimen. He’s pretty tight lipped about it all, secretive and reserved in a way you’re not quite used to from your friend of several years, answering in half truths and changing the subject when he can. It’s not really your business anyway, and so you let him get away with terrible segues that you would normally tease him for.

He does ask you again a few weeks later if you want to come down to Michigan for a week or two, turning your protests about not being able to afford it into not wanting to intrude or let him pay your way into conceding that you can give him a week in mid July.

That’s about the time Jack grabs the phone from his older brother’s grasp, turning the regular phone call into a Facetime that gives you the gift of watching Quinn chase after him, his awkward little run having no right to be as endearing as it is.

“I’m glad you’re coming,” he says later, having locked himself in the master bedroom of the house he shares with Jack (and sometimes Luke). His hair’s a mess and his cheeks are flushed

“I’m really glad, too,” you smile. “Now tell me what class you’re taking.”

“Would you look at the time, sorry we gotta head to my parent’s house.”

You roll your eyes, but let him go with the explicit promise that he’ll call later.

Somehow May and June simultaneously fly by and drag all at the same time. Each eight hour shift takes a hundred hours to pass, while your days off come and go in the blink of an eye. Every day you get closer to the date circled in red ink on your calendar; no indication of what the date means other than the word Michigan written in bold, capital letters.

When July hits, it really hits you that you’re getting to see Quinn

There’s a giddy sort of feeling in your stomach, the kind that usually pops up right before Quinn comes home in September. You’ve never been to Michigan before, it didn’t work with the mix of your serving job and classes you’d regretfully chosen to take the last couple of summers in an attempt to get ahead in your degree, and the first year you hadn’t really known Quinn well enough for him to take you home to meet the parents.

Not that that was what this was, of course. You weren’t Quinn’s girlfriend or anything, nervous to earn his mom and dad’s approval, gain the acceptance of his brothers. It wasn’t like that at all with you and Quinn. Besides, you already had it from the times the family had flown to Vancouver—it was just a fact of life, parents loved you. And Jack and Luke loved to team up with you to embarrass Quinn.

You were just excited to see a friend two months earlier than you would normally see him, that’s all.

Super casual, super platonic, super friendly. Super.

Which is why you’ve had your bags packed since you flipped over the Canucks calendar Quinn had jokingly gifted you for Christmas to a picture of Thatcher.

Kimmy graciously offers to drive you to the airport, even if you could totally take the skytrain if you had to. “Just remember I’m your favorite roommate,” is the only explanation she gives, ignoring the fact that she’s your only roommate.

“You know you’re only going for a week,” she says bright and early Monday morning, eyebrows raising high above the line of her sunglasses.

“Shut up,” is all you can manage, tossing your luggage in her trunk and skulking over to the front seat where you buckle in and immediately make a grab for her coffee mug.

“Thought you’d be more excited,” she mutters, pulling out of the parking garage.

“I am excited,” you reply, downing half of the mug even if it isn’t made exactly the way you like it. It’s black and bitter and doesn’t have an ounce of sweetener or cream in it, but it’s caffeine and you feel like the human embodiment of Quinn’s eye bags right now.

Kimmy has the grace to keep her mouth shut for the entire car ride, only turning up the radio a little when a Taylor Swift song comes on. She keeps quiet even as she pulls into the departures lane and hops out to help you with your luggage and wrap you up in a big hug.

Quiet, until she opens her mouth at the last minute that is. “Bye babe, say hi to your boyfriend for me!”

It makes you want to toss your personal item at her, but you refrain from making too large of a scene in the last place you want to be making a large scene, settling for scratching your nose with your middle finger and offering a rebuttal of “he’s not my boyfriend!”

“Sure babe, see you in a week.”

Rolling your eyes you walk into the airport. Security and customs are an uncharacteristic breeze, leaving you time to grab another coffee and try to become more of a human before the six hour flight to Michigan. Quinn’s blowing up your phone, the consequence of a three hour time difference and his career requiring many early mornings that yours did not.

“Quinn’s lucky I love him,” you grumble angrily later, attempting to shove your overstuffed carryon into the overhead bin. The thought gives you pause and you freeze with your hands against the piece of luggage. It’s true, you really do love him.

Luckily a flight attendant pops up behind you and one well timed shove gets the bag into place and you’re able to continue your moment of crisis in your seat. It’s not like you didn’t know you loved him—he’s your best friend, of course you love him. You love all your friends, freely and openly and purposefully. But you love him love him. Like, wanna wake up with your head on his chest love him, want to plan your future around him love him, want to wear a hideous jean jacket with his name and number on a patch love him.

Crisis is probably too harsh a word, it’s more of a gentle realization, the slow pulling of a train into a station after a long journey.

“You love him.”

Startled, you turn to the older woman in the window seat you weren’t willing to pay $50 to switch to. “What?”

“I know that look on your face,” Chatty Cathy continues. “Same one I had on my wedding day.”

Just because you’ve had the realization on your own doesn’t mean you’re ready to have the conversation with someone else. Not Quinn, not Kimmy, not your mom, and definitely not someone else’s grandmother. “I’m just visiting a friend.”

She gives you a knowing look. “No one visits just a friend in Michigan.”

It’s enough to have you putting in your headphones and turning the volume up on your favorite playlist.

You don’t escape Chatty Cathy after you deplane, she’s right behind you all the way through the terminal.

There’s a message from Quinn when your phone finally connects to the wifi at Wayne County Airport that simply states “Here” which leads you to believe he’s probably waiting in his car at the pick up area just outside and so you’re not looking for him as you walk.

The woman finds who you presume to be her husband first, sinking into an embrace that makes even your cold heart melt a little.

And then you hear your name being called and Quinn’s standing right in front of you. Realistically it’s been a couple months but it kind of feels like you’re a military wife and your husband has finally returned from war. Abandoning all pretenses, you drop your bags and fling yourself at him.

He catches you easily with a chuckle in your ear. “Missed you too.”

After what you know is an inappropriate amount of time, you finally disentangle yourself, dragging your hands down from his shoulders to his chest. “You look good, Q.”

Before you can grab your bags, Quinn’s grabbing them with an “I got it.” You follow along like a lost puppy, passing by the woman who raises her eyebrows and smiles. “Who’s that?”

“No one, I just sat by her on the flight.”

He shrugs. “C’mon let’s drop off your bags at home and then my mom really wants to see you.”

“You don’t have to help with dishes,” Ellen tells you after supper as she washes a large pot in the sink.

“My mom raised me better than that,” you laugh, drying the dishes she’s already cleaned.

“She certainly did.” A pleased smile takes over your face and your stomach warms at her words. “You know, I used to worry about Quinn the most. Jack’s never had issues making his feelings known, and Luke’s still close to home. Plus Jack’s got Dani in Jersey. But my Quinn has always been such a quiet boy with his heart on his sleeve and I worried about him being all alone in another country.”

“You don’t worry anymore?” you ask, thanking her for handing you the pot.

“No,” she stops and looks at you. “He has you.”

You don’t quite know how to respond to that, or to tell her that you have him too, so you don’t.

Quinn enters the kitchen a minute or two later and shoos his mother out. “Let me finish those, mom. You go sit.”

It’s oddly domestic, doing the dishes side by side in his family home. Almost like it was the home you shared together as part of a joint life you’d built.

Except not, because you can hear his brothers arguing in the next room until their mom shushes them both.

When you’re finally done with the dishes, there’s a movie set up in the living room, with the only option of seating the small loveseat.

The look on both Jack and Luke’s faces tells you it was on purpose.

Quinn and Jack are both too tired after supper to drive home, and so everyone stays the night in the Hughes’ home. Quinn’s old bedroom became the spare room, and the spare room became a sewing-storage-office room hybrid, and so you find yourself in the same bed as your best friend.

It’s no big deal, really, you’ve done it before. Just, not before finally giving into the realization that you were in love with him.

You try to sleep, but your mind and heart are racing.

“Are you sleeping?” you ask into the darkness. Quinn’s close enough that you could conceivably reach over and touch him, but you keep your hands to yourself.

“Trying to,” he grumpily grumbles back, bringing a smile to your face.

Your flip onto your side so that you’re facing him in the dark is far less graceful than you’d planned it to be in your head, but you manage. “Why did you decide to take a class this summer? I’m sure you could have found a million other ways to fill the time.”

It’s quiet for so long that you wonder if he really did fall asleep, until his far more dignified roll over signifies that he’s as awake as you are. “I’m only a couple semesters away from my degree,” he says like it explains everything, and maybe if you were someone else it would. But this is your best friend and you kind of want to know everything about him.

“I mean, same, but if I was making several mill a year I can’t say that I’d be rushing to finish my degree.”

He’s quiet again and you wonder if you’ve said the wrong thing again, shoved your whole foot in your mouth when you should have left well enough alone. “I know, but it could all go away in a second. One bad hit, or an accident, or something else outside of my control.”

His tone of voice nearly breaks your heart at the same time as the words he speaks plunges your heart into ice cold water. The thought of Quinn hurt, of him losing everything scares you. “Don’t say that, you’re going to be like Jagr, still playing at 50 years old.”

“I hope not,” he laughs, and it settles the feeling in your chest. When he yanks you closer, it all but dissipates. Tentatively, you sling an arm over his abdomen and rest your head on his chest.

You mull it all over in your head, distracted by the way he plays with the ends of your hair until you speak up again. “You’re more than hockey, Quinn.” He hums out a non-committal answer and you figure humor is the way to move forward. “Besides, you can always just bum off Jack and Luke.”

He tugs on your hair in response, but doesn’t say anything else.

“Ta-da!”

Jack’s a real smart ass from the backseat that he’d insisted on sitting in as Quinn pulls into the driveway of a very nice house. House might be putting it lightly, as a kid you’d called this kind of residence a McMansion.

“Shit this is nice,” is your initial reaction.

It makes Quinn smile, which is exactly what you were going for. “It’s alright.”

You shove him and then unbuckle your seatbelt. “Shut up.”

The grand tour Jack promised is pretty lackluster, a handful of guest rooms that mean you won’t have a bed buddy tonight, a kitchen you’re certain neither of them have used on their own and enough bathrooms that you don’t have to worry about how long Jack takes to do his hair in the morning.

There is one door that catches your attention. It’s one of the only ones that is shut, and when Jack shakes the handle it doesn’t budge. “This is where Quinn keeps dead bodies.”

Quinn’s somewhere else in the house but he hears all the same and shouts back, “I don’t keep dead bodies!”

Jack nods solemnly and stage whispers, “That’s actually true, they’re buried in the backyard under the pool.”

Super human hearing Quinn shouts again, “there are no dead bodies!”

You roll your eyes but continue the tour until you end up in the living room where Quinn’s reclined in the lazy boy, texting. It’s too tempting to pass up, and so you plop on the arm of the chair and peer over his shoulder. “What’s Petey up to?”

He drops his phone quickly, a blush beginning to form at the top of his ears. “Wasn’t Petey.” It’s a strange reaction, one that has you suspicious—not that you have a reason to be. But if it wasn’t Elias then who? Was it a girl? The thought makes your stomach hurt.

Shoving down the conflicted feelings, you ruffle his hair a little to be a nuisance until he slaps your hand away. “What’s in the locked room Quinn?”

“Nothing.”

You poke him hard in the upper arm once, then twice. “Don’t make me poke it out of you.”

It institutes a little poking war that has you giggling until Jack breaks it up. “Get a room, you two.”

It’s a little awkward then, and so you slide off the chair’s arm. “I’m gonna go change and then lounge by the pool if anyone wants to join.”

As you walk away, you hear the unmistakable sound of a slap and then Quinn’s voice muttering “Idiot.”

The week flies by way too fast. Between meeting all Quinn’s friends and drinking them under the table, spending time with his family, and being shown around the places that meant so much to him. It has you wishing you’d found a way to make two weeks work, but it had been hard enough getting your shifts covered for the time you were here.

“Quit your job and stay here,” Quinn tells you when you say as much.

Huffing, you move from laying on the deck chair to lean on your elbows so that you can glare at him. It’s a moot point, since your sunglasses are covering your eyes anyway. “Quit being stupid. Some of us have tuition and bills to pay.”

“I could pay your bills,” he says quietly. Sincerely, even.

His gentle disposition is no match for your sarcasm, however. “Oh yeah? And what would I have to do in return? Be your kept woman? Do your laundry? No thanks.” Although, the thought of returning to school in the fall while balancing your jobs means the idea isn’t as horrific as it could be. Plus you’re pretty sure Quinn’s one of the least disgusting people you know…

“Nah, we can hire out someone to do the cleaning.”

You relax back into your chair because frankly your upper arms were getting sore. “Okay so in this hypothetical scenario, you’re gonna share your vast fortune with me with nothing expected in return?”

“Yep pretty much.”

“You’re an idiot.”

“Maybe.”

Lounging around doing nothing gets boring as the sun beats down on you both. It’s your last day in Michigan and you kind of don’t want it to ever end.

“Let’s go for a drive?” you blurt out impulsively.

“Okay.”

Quinn takes you for the highlight reel, showing you around various places that mean something to him, including a stop at his parents so you can say your proper goodbye to them and Luke.

And then you end up at a cozy little diner where you order a large fry to share and two milkshakes.

“You’ve got a little something right there,” he says, pointing to the corner of his mouth. “Nope, you missed it. Still missing it.”

It takes you a full minute to realize he’s messing with you. “Shut up!” you laugh and kick him under the table. He captures your leg, pinning it between his own, nonchalantly picking at the fries on the table while you visibly struggle to free yourself. “Jerk!”

“I like having you here,” Quinn admits a beat or two later.

The dramatic indignation leaves your body at his admission and you slump a little in the booth. “I like being here… jerk.”

He smiles, but doesn’t let your leg go and for some reason you don’t seem to mind.

When the bill comes, he’s a lot faster to slap down his credit card than you are. Probably because you were expecting them to bring a machine that you could use your card at rather than let a random stranger take your credit card to the back for whatever nefarious purposes they so chose.

The debate of the security of tap versus having your credit card taken from you carries over from the table into the car, and by the time you get back to Quinn’s, you’re satisfied you’ve won this round.

“I don’t want to go to bed yet, if I go to sleep the morning will come quick,” you say softly when Quinn asks if you’re headed to bed when you get back.

“Yeah, I know.” He’s quiet again, an inner conflict raging across his face until, “Come on, I wanna show you something.”

It’s like you know before he’s even led you towards the stairs that you’re finally going to see what’s going on in the locked room. “Are you about to show me your dead bodies, Quintin?”

His exasperated sigh is more fond than annoyed, “There are no dead bodies!” When he pushes the door open, you quickly come to realize it’s a makeshift painting room, with various colored paints scattered around the room and a sheet covering the floor. At the far end of the room lies an easel with a finished painting set on it.

“She’s beautiful, Quinn,” you say, taking a step closer to admire the artwork in front of you. You barely manage to stop yourself from trailing the delicate lines of her face with your fingers.

“She’s you,” he admits shyly, head ducked down and rose flush spreading across his cheeks and down his neck. “You’re beautiful.”

“I didn’t know you saw me that way,” you whisper, eyes locked on the physical representation of Quinn’s vision of you.

“You never asked.”

Finally you tear your eyes away from the canvas, spinning around to face him. “Quinn—“

“It’s not—I don’t expect anything from you or anything. It’s the final project for my class. I didn’t tell you I was taking an art class at first because I was worried it wouldn’t work out, but then we were given our assignments and the final project was to paint something you, well, something you love.”

You say his name again but he keeps talking, almost a man possessed as if he can’t stop the words from falling from his tongue.

“I love you, like, Capital L love you. I have for a long time. Maybe since the night we met, I don’t know. One conversation and I knew you were it for me. But, like I said before, I don’t expect any—“

You can’t take it anymore, you’re impossibly endeared to this man and his awkward rambling and his slightest hint of a lisp, and you press your lips to his.

Quinn doesn’t reciprocate at first, frozen in place and so you wait, counting the seconds until he finally moves, gripping your face in his hands and kissing you like he means it.

You don’t stop kissing.

You kiss and you kiss and you kiss; that night you kiss as you strip each other of your clothes, the next morning you kiss morning breath and all when you wake up together. You kiss over breakfast and you kiss at red lights on the way to the airport and at departures.

“Stay,” he says, kissing you again much to the displeasure of the pretty college coed who’d asked for a photo and his autograph not five minutes ago. You lean into it, tilting your head and sliding your hand through the hair at the base of his neck.

“Can’t,” you reply when you pull back. “Bills to pay, remember?”

“Let me take care of it for you.”

“As if.” You laugh and pat his cheek. “I gotta go, I’ll see you in a couple weeks. Love you.”

The words are enough to have him let you go, but not before reciprocating and one last, lingering kiss. He stands to the side with his hands in his pockets, determined to watch you leave until he can’t see you anymore.

“Told you so,” a voice sounds from behind you in the security line.

Spinning around you see Chatty-although-not-incorrect Cathy. There’s no mistaking the look on your face this time, no amount of deflecting would ever be seen as anything less than extreme deception and so you shrug. “Guess you did.”

#nhl fic #nhl fanfic #nhl imagine #nhl imagines #nhl x reader #quinn hughes fic #quinn hughes fanfic #quinn hughes imagine #quinn hughes imagines #quinn hughes x reader #shelb writes

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 11 months

Text

Morning After

Epilogue for Sweet Treats AU: by character | chronological | epilogues

Warnings: these drabbles will include dark elements such as noncon, control, intimidation, alcohol abuse and addiction, and other stuff that may not be specified. Take this as you chance to scroll by.

Note: I wasn’t sure what to do with Steve so…

Please let me know what you think <3

🍹🍹🍹

Your legs are folded almost to your chest, kept there by the muscular body pumping into you. Steve's silhouette is blurry, his features swirling in your haze, the tint of alcohol fracturing your reality. The only constant is the intense heat pulsing in your core, stoked again and again by his eager thrusts.

You babble drunkenly as his hand curves around your throat, pushing your chin up as he presses his cheek to yours. He growls as he pounds harder. You mewl weakly as the strain tugs in your thighs.

You put your hands on his shoulders, trying to measure his furious tempo. It only seems to feed his furor. He snarls and nips at your earlobe.

"Say it," he demands.

You murmur as your head bobbles above his grip. Your mouth is dry and acrid with the taint of tequila, two of the tiny complimentary bottles downed on your arrival. Your eyes roll up to the wall and cling to the top of the sleek black frame of the hotel bed.

"Say it!" He repeats.

"Cap-tain," you rasp out as the air scratches in your throat.

"You fucking like that?" He growls.

"Yes, cap..." Your voice fizzles out as your eyelids droop, the alcohol taking hold.

"You fucking do, don't you? You been waiting for this…" he hisses against your temple, rutting you as the mattress seems to fold beneath you.

Your senseless moans and his deep grunts punctuate shallow breaths, surrounding you in the warmth of flesh and friction. Your hands fall limp against your chest, crushed beneath as he keeps on, unfazed by your dwindling consciousness.

"I know," he carries on his monologue, ramming in harder and harder, "you want me, Coco, you want. You always have…"

He squeezes your neck tighter until you wheeze. Your head tingles and your throbs as you cough, struggling to breathe. You're not afraid though, you're too fucked up for that. Even as your ears ring and the void swallows you up.

🍹

You wake in a predicament not wholly unfamiliar. Another hangover. Another one night stand.

You peek over at the broad set of shoulders, a few scars along the blades and closer to the hip. Shit. It really is him. How the fuck did you pull that?

You sit up and stumble out of the bed. You search around for your clothes. A tiger print dress and a bra, your thong…

You bundle it in your arms and carry it to the main suite. Shit, he really went all out. You've never stayed in a room this nice. Usually there was a double bed stained with things you hate to think of.

You pull dress over your head and shove your underwear in your purse, strewn with your shoes clumsily by the door. Ugh, the sun, the noise of existence awaits you and your pounding head. You can't face it alone.

You tiptoe to the minifridge and sneak a small bottle of vodka, cracking the seal and down it in a single gulp. Hair of the dog. Or maybe you're still a bit drunk.

You toss the bottle in the metal bin and spin with a satisified sigh.

"Bit early for that," Steve remarks, nearly knocking you off your feet in surprise.

"Shit, I didn't mean to wake you up."

"Woulda prefered cuddles," he kids, his arms crossed over his muscular chest, a pair of boxers low on his hips. God almighty, he's hot as hell. Too bad you can't remember shit.

"Eh, I'm not much into that. Besides, we both know what this is," you slip into your shoes one at a time, bending awkward as you do.

"We do?"

"It was fun but I should go," you stand straight and clutch your purse tight, "really, cap, this will be a fun story."

"Story?" He tilts his head.

"I mean, let's hope it doesn't run on the front page. I'd hate to be the homewrecker to a missing woman."

"She's gone. I'm still here," he insists as he pushes away from the door frame, "and I won't let another one slip through my hands."

"Another…"

"Besides," he claps his hands as he interrupts your confusion. You touch your forehead as your temples thump, "you promised me breakfast, remember?"

"Did I?"

"I'd say you owe me," he picks up an empty tequila bottle from the bartop, "these aren't free, ya know?"

#steve rogers #dark steve rogers #dark!steve rogers #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x honey #mcu #marvel #dark!fic #series #au #captain america #sweet treats #drabble #drabble series #avengers

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icallhimjoey · 1 year

Text

I've Got You

♥ ♥ Joseph Quinn x Fem!Reader

Summary: You and your flatmate have perfected the art of wingmanship for one another. It’s a great system that seems to work every single time, until you’re left unsatisfied.

CW / disclaimer: 18+, language, rpf, fem!reader, smut, lots of drinking, angst!

Author’s note: baby’s first smutty series - sorry if it’s bad! I feel like I rushed this one a little bit towards the end. but OK ENJOY! (rewritten on 13 nov 2023)

Wordcount: 3.3K

part one - part two - part three - part four - part five

You were going to earn that ten quid back, and you were going to make sure Joe was going to be the one to remind you of it.

Your lips made contact with the tip of him, so very softly, he barely must have even felt the graze of your mouth at all.

You barely got a reaction out of him.

You did it again, a little firmer this time, making sure he could feel you properly, but the pressure of it not nearly enough for him.

Teasing.

Joe wasn't having it and pushed up his hips, chasing your mouth as you pulled back.

"Do that–" Joe stopped, had to swallow whatever got stuck in his throat before he could finish.

"Do that again," he breathed lowly.

You kept pressing slow kisses to his head, growing steadily in pressure until eventually adding your tongue too.

It took entirely too long, you knew, but Joe bathed in it, not once asking you to take him into his mouth.

His erratic breathing made you smirk, and when you took his tip into your mouth to suck on, Joe moaned shakily as he grabbed a fistful of your hair. Only pulled very slightly, hands more careful than you expected them to be.

Just when Joe thought you were going to finally take all of him into your mouth, you pulled back. You used your hand to stroke him up and down lazily, sliding your head away from his touch, feeling strands of your hair slip through his fingers..

"Jesus Christ," Joe groaned earthily, frankly quite annoyed at your pace and you could see the veins in his neck as he threw his head back in frustration, needing more than what you were giving him.

"So impatient," you cooed, but before Joe could complain, you pumped your hand down to hold him at his base and took all of him.

You hadn't calculated all that correctly, and you felt your throat constrict as Joe reached a part of it you hadn't expected him to, very nearly triggering your gag reflex.

The sensation of it made Joe moan huskily.

His hand found its way back into your hair to guide you up and down, a move you usually hated because it meant you could be held down, could be made to choke on them. But Joe's hand seemed to be there just to touch, just to hold onto you.

You moved your head and hand in unison, working fast along his shaft, steadily.

It was silly how a soft moan from you got a much louder one from Joe.

So silly.

Almost too easy.

When Joe's hips started bucking, muscles involuntarily spasming at your touches, you knew he was getting close. You kept up the pace, tongue laving sloppily, cheeks sucked in, everything all wet as you paid close attention to his pulsing head.

Joe tried to hold out.

He really, really tried.

But the sight of you, combined with the noises you were making, was too much for him to bear and left him a panting mess of a man.

It didn't take long for Joe's breaths to scatter as the built-up pleasure within him broke and riddled through his body. With his head thrown back into the pillows and his stomach twitching, Joe drained himself completely, swearing as he did.

It took a minute for Joe to catch his breath after.

You waited a little scared he'd react the same way you had, but there were no signs of panic, no fear visible on his face, no wheezing heard in his breathing.

"Fucking hell," Joe found your eyes and smiled at you, his breathing still heavy as he hummed through his exhales, his hands now in his own hair.

"Yea?" you would lie if you said you weren’t proud of yourself. This felt like a job you’d finished in record time.

"Pass me my wallet," Joe joked, speaking on an exhale, pointing in a random direction, and it made you laugh as you fell onto the bed next to Joe.

"I owe you 10 pounds, I think."

And, listen.

You didn’t want to make it a regular thing.

Honestly, you didn’t.

But when you walked in on Joe watching a film under a throw blanket a couple of days later, you joined him on the sofa and, immediately, Joe put his hand to work.

Joe had held open the throw blanket, invited you in. Made sure it covered the both of you properly after you'd sat down. As you settled into a comfortable position next to him, not even really cuddling up to him, Joe’s hand found itself in your underwear.

Just... there.

Like that was the place where his hand was meant to be kept.

No words were spoken, and Joe didn’t even really look at you. But his hand was definitely there, fully cupping you, applying pressure with his fingers in pulses.

Both your gazes remained on the TV, and you could've sworn that Joe was actually following the plot of the film until you could feel your arousal transfer onto his fingers and he put its slick to good use.

When Joe thought it took too long for you to come, he sat up slightly and turned into you, his eyes finally off the screen. He continued to press his cheek against yours so you could hear his heavy breaths and soft groans close in your ear.

His noises, combined with his closeness and the fervency of his touch pushed you over the edge within seconds.

Afterwards, Joe had just sat back, and you easily confessed you didn’t like the film at all.

Joe finished watching it by himself.

Friday rolled around quick, and you were heating up some leftovers for dinner when you heard the front door open as Joe walked in with two of his friends. They’d done a quick food shop, and when they caught you in the kitchen, were quick to shoo you out.

You sat down, had your dinner, and enjoyed listening to them as they started preparing the kitchen for the cooking of their meal.

There was something very wholesome about the three of them cooking together; cutting vegetables, asking each other’s opinions on flavouring, having casual other chat, but then at one point pausing every single task at hand to challenge each other to toss trash into the bin from a certain distance.

There were a lot of loud oohs and ahhs, and footsteps back and forth from near misses.

When you expected them to make fun of each other for failing, they started giving each other helpful tips. They kept trying until all three of them succeeded.

Adorable, you thought.

They were the very definition of ‘boys will be boys’ that you supported wholeheartedly.

When you ventured back into the kitchen to put your dishes into the dishwasher, one of Joe’s mates held up a spoon over a cupped hand for you.

“Try this,” he said, and as you leant over slightly for a taste, you could see Joe eye you from behind him when you made eye contact with his friend as he fed you.

“Ooh,” you frowned, covering your mouth with your hand as you chewed with your mouth slightly open because of the temperature of it, fresh from the pan.

“That’s gorgeous!”

It earned a wide grin from the both of them, as they looked at each other and nodded with big smiles, obviously excited that whatever they’d put together tasted beautifully.

“I know you’ve just eaten, but we could make you a small plate if you want?” his other mate suggested as he opened several kitchen cupboards to look for dishes to set the table.

“That’s okay, thanks. I’m going to go for a quick shower,”

“You’re coming with tonight, right?” Joe checked in with you whilst reaching into an upper cabinet to grab some glasses.

“Yea, just quickly want to freshen up,” you half-shrugged as you walked out.

A night out with them sounded fun, and you’d not been out the week before, so you felt you were due a night of drinks, loud music, and dancing.

“Good, because someone's newly single,” Joe called after you, referencing one of his friends who he made big eyes at.

Um.

What?

You stepped back slowly and saw all three of them look at you. Every face read something different, leaving it impossible for you to gage why one of Joe's friends being newly single was a reason for you to join them that evening.

Your eyes darted between each of their expressions, your own left in plain confusion.

“Joe said you’re the best wingman he’s ever had,” his friend then explained.

Oh.

The realisation of what they were getting at came with relief and you could see Joe’s grin behind him.

Joe's friend turned to look at Joe before looking back at you again with hopeful eyes. He almost seemed a little ashamed to bring up the topic and you wondered if Joe had told them anything about the recent... developments between the two of you.

Not that you wanted him to talk about it to other people.

You hadn't.

Shit.

Had he?

You smiled and shrugged at Joe’s friend.

“I try,” you simply said, slapping the wood of the doorframe before leaving them alone again, back on your way to shower.

As you walked off, you could hear them carry on conversation and Joe thought that you were underselling yourself.

“Not that you’d need much help mate,” Joe started, slapping his friend on the shoulder. “But there’s something about having her talk to them, it’s like– it’s honestly like magic,”

Ew.

You didn’t know why that had never made you feel icky before. Hearing those words come from Joe’s mouth made you feel a bit gross, but you were quick to shake them off, and anything that lingered, you hoped you could rinse off in a minute.

That night, the first bar the four of you stepped into was impossibly busy. With Joe’s friends in front of you, and Joe behind you, you snaked your way through the crowd towards the bar.

You were held onto from the front by your wrist as to not lose you, and you could feel Joe’s hands on your lower back as he followed closely behind you.

When the boys saw that the bartenders were two guys, they pushed you forward to order drinks, knowing that you’d probably get served much faster than they would.

There was something about being out with three guys. The giddiness and excitement of being out with your girlfriends wasn’t there, there was no dancing and singing whilst getting ready together, no weird mixed pre-drinks and no promises no one was going to keep about being good tonight.

Being out with three guys was fun in a different way.

You felt a bit protected, a little special, and you concluded that it was nice, even if they used you to get their drinks quicker and Joe’s friend was solely interested in seeing you pull a girl for him.

Finding a table for the four of you to stand at was a journey, but with wide elbows and a lot of apologies to the people around you, you managed to secure one. You all cheersed your glasses when you did.

“So, how does it work?”

Both of Joe’s friend looked at you with eager eyes, leaning forward on their elbows, waiting to witness the magic that Joe mentioned to them.

You looked at Joe, entirely blaming him for his horny mates, rolling your eyes when he pretended he had nothing to do with their behaviour.

“Alright,” you decided to just go with it, then.

“There’s some terms and conditions,” you started, copying their stances, leaning over the table and speaking in between their heads so they could both hear you.

“They need to be single,” you leant back to look the both of them in the eye as a warning before moving back in between them.

“They need to be at least somewhat tipsy, and... you’ve got to do some work when I bring them over – be ready with a joke, a compliment, or, for quickest results: shots.”

Leaning back, you saw the two of them look at each other and nod, one of them half-shrugging, the other giving a thumbs up as if to say, we’ve got this.

Then they both turned back to you and waited expectantly for what to do next.

“Go, take your pick,” you gestured around, as if presenting them a buffet of women to choose from and you heard Joe laugh beside you.

“Let’s do a lap,” one of them said, circling a finger in the air, and the both of them took off, leaving you and Joe by yourselves.

“Idiots,” Joe mused, chuckling lightly to himself.

You scoffed at him.

“Says the man who’s not pulled someone without my help in months,” Joe was just as bad as his mates and he needed reminding, you thought.

“I haven’t?” Joe made eyes at you.

“I think I did a fairly alright job landing my flatmate the other day,” your jaw dropped aghast, and you were quick to flip him off, unable to hide your laughter.

“Still involved me though, didn’t it?” you challenged, in turn making Joe laugh.

It took a little while for Joe’s friends to return, and when they did, they brought over new drinks for the four of you.

“There’s two girls,” one of them shouted into your ear. They use their full extended arms and fingers to point, and Joe was quick to push their arms down, giving them a disappointed shake of his head.

You looked over and saw the girls they were talking about; friends. That was definitely trickier. They could band together, against you, and fuck with the system.

You nodded slowly and carefully thought of a game plan.

"Alright, I've got you," you then said, not wanting to let them down. You pretended to crack your neck, did some fake stretching, made the boys laugh and then finally instructed them to get tequila shots for your table.

Help.

Help was the answer.

You needed these girls to help you with something, somehow, so you could then owe them and offer them shots.

From a distance you could tell that these girls had been drinking, and from the way they were dressed you hoped for Joe’s friends’ sake that they were single.

You walked straight up to them and grabbed one of them by the wrist.

“Sorry, I’ve lost my friends, have you seen three, sort of tall, handsome men?” you shouted into her ear, and the face you made at her afterwards had her immediately scan the crowd for you.

“One of them has like, floppy, blond hair,” you described, catching the attention of her friend who nodded upwards to ask what was going on. She explained that you’d lost your hot mates, and you then leant over to her to tell her the same thing, but then also described the other two boys.

“Last time I checked,” and you panned your eyes over to exactly where they were stood.

All three had their eyes trained on you, and it was so dumb, but you had to pretend not to see them boring their eyes in your direction.

“They were there, somewhere, I think.”

“Is that them?” one of them asked, and pointed directly at your table.

“Where?” you pretended you were practically blind.

The other girl waved at them and pointed at you, signaling to them that she’d found their friend. Sheepishly, they all waved back, entirely unaware of the conversation that you were having with these girls.

“Oh my God, that’s them! Thank you so much, saved my fucking life! Have you two done shots already tonight?”

And just like that, you made your way back through the crowd over to your flatmate and his friends, two girls following suit.

They were all smiles when they saw the amount of tequila shots waiting at the table – two each, for the six of you, cost a fucking fortune – as they welcomed you warmly.

As you handed each girl a shot, you pointed at one of Joe's friends and introduced him to one of them.

“You've never met someone with a bigger heart,” you started, licking your hand, ready for him to sprinkle some salt onto it from the little shaker he was holding.

Your new friend did the same.

“He works full time, difficult boring office job, which pays a lot of money, but then at the weekends, he volunteers at a dog shelter,” you lied, and you pouted at her.

You had no fucking idea what his job was.

Knew for a fact he didn't fucking volunteer and a dog shelter.

She copied your face immediately and made puppy dog eyes at him.

“You do? That’s so cute!”

Boom.

He was in.

When you turned to see if Joe’s other friend needed help being introduced, you were met with them already making out, the slice of lemon that Joe had handed them wedged in between their teeth still.

That was fast.

Joe saw that there were now six shots left for the two of you and nodded for you to join him on his side of the table, stepping away slightly from the others.

You saw Joe line up the shots, organising them in front of you before counting down loudly. You knew exactly what was expected of you, and with the fast pace of everything happening, your brain didn’t fully catch up until it was too late, and the tequila was already gone.

In literal seconds you left all shot glasses empty and were nursing a full lemon slice in between your teeth, your throat on fire.

“Woo!” Joe’s voice was loud, adrenaline pumping you were sure, and he held two hands up to high 5 you.

You did, but immediately went, “Bathroom break,” and stepped away from him momentarily.

The music was loud, and the place was still packed, sweaty bodies bumping into sweaty bodies as you slowly managed to make your way through.

The line for the toilets was long, and even though you did really enjoy talking to the drunk girls in the queue, befriending them immediately like drunk girls were so easy to befriend, you did think it took you way too long to eventually find your way back to Joe.

He was still at the same table, but had now found a barstool to sit on, looking out into the crowd of people dancing.

When he spotted you making your way back over to him, he held an arm out for you to reach, and when you took hold of him, he pulled you in strongly.

It was almost romantic, and you could feel the buzz from the tequila warm you at your core. Joe pulled you in way closer to his body than he needed to, made you almost crash into him, and his mouth found your ear, sending shivers down your spine.

“Blonde girl, over there in the corner,” Joe nodded his head over you and made you turn around to follow his gaze.

You saw an impossibly good-looking girl and were quick to look around to locate Joe’s friends. You couldn’t seem to find them, but then spotted one of them, and he was still talking to the girl that he shared a lemon wedge with, doing a fantastic job at making her laugh.

“I think they’re good,” you turned back to Joe, ready to point your finger in the direction of what you saw unfolding a few feet removed from you.

But you were halted, because you could see it in Joe’s eyes.

It was unmistakably there.

Your stomach dropped.

Left you immediately dizzy.

Joe meant for him.

Joe meant for you to talk to that girl for him.

You frowned, confused and suddenly disgusted by your flatmate and his friends, now to you the very definition of ‘boys will be boys’ that fucking sucked.

-----

The Taglisted: @ghostinthebackofyourhead @kiwisa @jasminearondottir @josephquinned @cancankiki @sidthedollface2 @dylanmunson @munsonsgirl71 @alana4610 @emmamooney @xomunson @sadbitchfangirl @jssmth5 @nobody-000 @thatonefan-girl @paola-carter @eddiemunsonfuxks @figmentofquinn @haylaansmi @thewondernanazombie @hellowhatthehellisgoingonhere @munsonmunster @kellysimagines @thefemininemystiquee @dirtyeddietini @mybffjoe @harrys-tittie @chaoticgood-munson @harringtonfan4 @sherrylyn628 @bdpst-massacre @xeddiesbattattsx @05secondsofsexgods @lovelyblueness @adoreyouusugar @nadixq - add yourself

#Ive Got You #part 4 #joe quinn #joseph quinn #joe quinn x reader #joseph quinn x reader #joe quinn smut #joseph quinn smut #joe quinn fanfic #joseph quinn fanfic

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hangmans-toothpick · 1 year

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Top Gun Characters as Shit my Friends/Familt have said

Mav: Am I an idiot?

Slider: Ice requires me to tell you no.

Slider:

Mav:

Slider: But Ice isn’t here, and you’re an idiot-

Slider: I used to be nice before I started working with you.

Ice:

Slider: What have you done to me? Look at me! I’m mean now! I don’t want to be mean, Tom!

Ice: I’m so old. *groans* Just put me in a retirement home, I’m done!

Slider, about Ice: He’s like Superman but instead of super strength and laser vision he has a crippling nicotine addiction and abandonment issues.

Hollywood: Oh!

Hollywood, shocked: Oh!!

Hollywood, sympathetic: Oh…

Wolfman: Do you have any other way you can say that syllable?

Goose: A lot of thought goes into being a whore.

Pheonix: They need to make vapes that look like vaginas.

Bob: Is the clit where you’d hit?

Phoenix: YES! exactly.

*Listening to audio porn*

Maverick: this is how I sound going up stairs.

*about Iceman*

Maverick: Yeah he has cancer! Could be worse

Slider: Could be worse? That’s like saying that my leg is broken, but it’s okay because I have another leg!

Phoenix: I don’t support treating people like cattle. But men are icky.

Ice: I don’t like you.

Mav: Why?

Ice: You make me do things that are gonna get you killed.

Cyclone: Efficiency! you just have to give up on everything.

Iceman: Man, I’m just shitfaced. I dunno what the hell happened.

*being side-eyed by an amish girl*

Mav: should i ask what her problem is?

Goose: No, she’s amish! She probably has enough problems as it is.

Rooster: I wanna be in the smufs movie so i can bone papa. I mean absolutely raw doggin’ it.

Maverick: 👁💧👄💧👁

Phoenix: I’m laughing my tampon out of my pussy!

*after Ice’s cancer surgery*

Slider: So… how’s your wednesday evening going? Nothing like a wednesday night at St. Mary’s Hospital.

Mav:

Mav: How do you think I’m doing, Ronald?

Iceman: I’m not a communist… but-

Rooster: That! That is not a mustache. That’s a fuzzy upper lip.

Payback: Being complimented by Dwane The Rock Johnson is an orgasm in itself.

Rooster: If I could fuck a drugstore, I would fuck rite aid.

Hollywood: I mean… who hasnt dressed up as a woman? I have!

Mav, in yoda voice: Mhmm… coming you are.

Ice:

Ice: nope. thats it. get outta the bed. You’re done.

Rooster: I’m trying to spread the fucking peanut butter with a spoon.

Phoenix: You’re giving califorian stoner vibes

Bob: Very californian stoner of you, Bradley.

Coyote: Do you wanna watch Fast and Furious 9?

Hangman: I haven’t seen the first one.

Coyote: I’m sure they’re all the same.

Hangman: Car go fast. Vin Diesel. That’s all you need to know.

Rooster: Do you think you two will hate each other when you get old?

Maverick: He already hates me.

Iceman: I don’t hate you, you just bug me.

*trying to do pilates with Hangman*

Rooster: You’re such a sadist! This isn’t fun sexy pain. This is just pain!

*explaining to baby Bradley how 2 dads have a baby*

Iceman: Well, you see, when a man and a man love each other very much… they find a woman

Maverick: *wheezing*

Iceman: A woman who cares just a little bit.

Payback: Just because I’m an athlete doesn’t mean I can’t feel

*talking about throat cancer survivor*

Iceman: I have three holes. all fuckable.

Bob: I wanted to be in the Navy before I saw the movie! The hot guys are just a bonus!

Rooster: I’m so excited to fuck harrison ford

hangman: *getting quieter as she goes* hell yeah talking about our problems since… nineteen… thirty…… seven

Hangman: he better fucking leave his wife for me, I swear to god.

Slider: help him! he’s being pegged! anal!

Phoenix: Is that a boob?

Bob: No! That’s Gary the Snail!

Hangman: I can’t even begin to tell you how attracted to that peacock i was

Cyclone: what do you wear to a poker game?

Fanboy: fancy clothes.

Cyclone:

Cyclone: what.

Cyclone: yall have broken my spirit.

Hangman: thats our job as students

Cyclone: no shit.

Maverick: back in my day-

Hangman: i love history class.

Maverick, to Slider: Only you can make a happy birthday card for someone else and have it still be a jab at me.

#bradley rooster bradshaw #pete maverick mitchell #natasha phoenix trace #tom iceman kazansky #ron slider kerner #top gun maverick #top gun hangman #top gun 1986 #icemav #hangster #we have so many cancer jokes #idfk why

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squircatlies · 16 days

Text

Here's a crossover nobody asked for, but has wormed its way into my head and won't leave: Good Omens × The Magnus Archives.

To clarify, not characters taken from one and put in the other's setting, both characters and settings put together in a weird soup.

I know the crossover doesn't make any sense, but the thought of the Them and the NotThem existing in the same universe greatly amuses me.

Further ramblings below the cut.

I've been debating between the Fears being an invention of Hell that has gone out of control and them being completely unrelated, outside beings with a power level closer to God, I feel like the first option diminishes their status a bit, but it is funnier. Maybe there could be a connection between them and the four riders of the apocalypse?

I want there to be a concrete divide between the divine/occult and eldritch, so that it's not just Hell's horror department and Angels and Demons are separate from monsters and avatars. But in universe not a lot of people know about the existence of either (aside from faith of course, which isn't the same as knowledge), so the ones that do encounter them have little to no basis for telling them apart. Also the Fears have a more active presence on Earth, so Angels and Demons often get mistaken for avatars by those in the know about the Fears.

The broad strokes of both narratives stay the same, so the GO apocalypse is prevented, but then TMA eyepocalypse happens and GO's characters are really salty about it. The eyepocalypse doesn't trigger a war between Heaven and Hell because of a legal loophole.

Tadfield is completely immune to the influence of all the fears because of Adam's powers, like Salesa's safehouse during the eyepocalypse or like how Aziraphale and Crowley hid Gabriel from Heaven and Hell with a miracle. Aziraphale's bookshop and the building with elevators to Heaven and Hell are the same in that aspect due to the concentration of divine/occult energy. This also applies during the eyepocalypse.

Aziraphale is Jurgen Leitner's biggest hater. He drunkenly made the Jurgen Leitner rant™ in universe while Crowley was cackling and wheezing on the floor. He's been "in correspondence" with Jonah Magnus 200 years ago and is the reason Jonah got obsessed with immortality in the first place. They first met each other at a discreet gentlemen's book club. Aziraphale deeply regrets ever talking to him. He had to fight off Mike Crew with a broom, when he was still looking for a Leitner to call his own. People in the know about the Fears, but not the existance of Angels and Demons assume Aziraphale to be an avatar of the Eye, possibly another Archivist.

Crowley's assumed to be an avatar too, but noone can agree what fear he serves. For a time Desolation was a popular theory, which he hated. Now they lean more toward the Web, the Stranger or the Spiral. He knew Maxwell Rayner back when he was Edmond Halley, because they were both in the astronomy circles at the time. A lot of the things he takes credit for on his reports to Hell are actually the doing of Fear avatars, it works out, because Hell refuses to acknowledge the Fears as a point of pride and noone bothers to check.

Gertrude thought about blowing up the bookshop, but Aziraphale convinced her otherwise. They had tea.

Jared Hopworth called Aziraphale a slur once and had to promptly change career paths.

Jon and Martin passed through Tadfield at some point during the eyepocalypse and met Adam. It was kind of awkward, but they got to pet Dog.

Agnes Nutter wasn't an avatar, she was just like that. Her prophecies mostly didn't concern the Fears, aside from telling one of her descendants not to go to the hundred and fifth house on a road atop a hill.

Anathema and Newt stay as far away from the Fears as possible, especially after Newt's encounter with Sergey Ushanka (Newt accidentally deleted him).

Everyone thinks Shadwell and Tracy are avatars, of the Hunt and the End respectively. They're not. They're just scammers. Tracy likes that it makes her seem more legitimate. Shadwell doesn't like the Fears, but he doesn't count them as witchcraft (except for the Flesh, because nipples, obviously), so he doesn't really care.

Nina and Maggie on the other hand are avatars. They're pretty good at hiding it though. Not sure which ones, probably the End and the Vast. Nina's ex is an avatar of Corruption.

#the magnus archives #tma #good omens #crossover au

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boilsyouroil · 27 days

Text

Is Eclipse Okay Yet!? It's Been Months!

Chapter 1 - Stubbornness Leads You Nowhere

[ AO3 LINK ] - [ CH 2 ]

Word Count ; 2022

Date ; 2024-04-03

AU ; The Oil Au

Notes ; Eclipse is not okay yet.

Takes place after finding out Ruin was evil, before Solar's death.

The sound of rain splashing against the window was the only sound in the room. Not even pained breathing could overtake the peace that held the air captive.

Eclipse tried his damn near hardest to get up, only to sink back into his seat. It hurt too much. All of it hurt too much. He had been alone in the back of the arcade again for a very long two days. Eclipse groaned and rubbed the sore area to try and soothe it enough to get up, but to no avail. In fact, the pressure made it worse.

If only someone were there to pick him up and carry him somewhere comfy, like a nice soft bed. Hell, even a bench or couch was better than this old worn desk chair. Eclipse hated to admit it, but he needed someone to come help him. At this point, he'd willingly get on his knees and beg if he could.

Sadly though, his body would not leave him alone, and so he had no choice but to sit. He reached a hand up to grab onto the desk and push himself toward the light switch. Surprisingly enough, the chair still rolled, even with a broken wheel. But sadly, it didn't make it all the way to the other end of the room. Eclipse groaned and took off his shoe, throwing it at the light switch. He missed, and tried again with the other one. Missed again.

He grumbled in defeat and opted instead to simply shield his eyes from the light. He considered for a moment, pinging someone for help with his predicament, but ultimately decided against it. Not long later, his lack of sleep caught up with him and he was out cold.

----

Solar sighed as he followed close behind Moon, "Are you sure he's actually in here?" Moon nodded, "He can't have gone anywhere else. Besides, the computer said he was throwing a tantrum or something in here last he was seen."

As they entered into the back room of the arcade, immediately something felt different. The lights in the hall were off, and the silence was eerie. Moon went through first, immediately slamming the door to the repair room open. Moon promptly stated the following, "You've had your sulking time, I need you to come help with something." Solar immediately followed Moon.

At about the same time, both of them registered the fact that Eclipse was dead asleep in a very shitty chair, completely silent. Solar and Moon looked at eachother for a minute, before Solar decided to take charge. He walked forward and shook Eclipse's shoulder firmly. Lucky for him, this was enough to rouse the other animatronic from his slumber. "Wake up, sleeping beauty." Solar smiled.

Moon had to do his best to stifle his laughter, seeing as Solar just couldn't resist an opportunity to lightly insult Eclipse. Eclipse found himself looking up at Solar, his eyes had a lifeless glare. Moon almost immediately noticed something was wrong, and stepped closer. "Eclipse, wake your ass up." Eclipse groaned as the pain from just hours ago finally hit him like a train.

"I'm up, what do you want?" He managed to wheeze out to Moon. Moon frowned and crouched a bit, blocking the light from Eclipse's eyes. "I need you to help me with something, but first I want you to explain why you think it's okay to just disappear into one room for days on end without saying anything?" Sitting himself upright with a wince, Eclipse moved to rub the sleep from his eyes. "Simple answer, I wanted something, I got what I wanted, then I got stuck."

"Stuck, what do you mean stuck?" Solar chimed in, walking over to inspect the back of Eclipse's faceplate for any idea as to what was going on. Eclipse, rather surprisingly, didn't fight back. "The little cretin that rebuilt me had the bright idea of making it..." Eclipse hissed mid-sentence, another wave of pain shot through him, "impossible for me to function without suffering." Eclipse stated it as such a fact that it made Moon's blood boil. He knew Ruin was a prick, but to give someone chronic pain, let alone to such severe amounts? That's just plain awful.

Moon thought for a moment, then promptly hooked his hands under Eclipse's arms and yanked him from the chair, no real regard for how he felt. "Come on, you tree." Moon grunted as he threw the taller animatronic over his shoulder. He began walking to the daycare. Eclipse's response to this? Struggling to get free, of course! He was stubborn, that was one thing you could never take from an Eclipse. Hell, even Solar was stubborn, and he was practically the polar opposite of all other Eclipses. Eclipse kicked Moon in the stomach and cried out, "Put me down, you fucking blueberry!"

After realizing Moon wouldn't give in, Eclipse instantly looked towards Solar, hissing out, "Help me out of this you useless-" he grunted, struggling to find an insulting nickname to use against Solar, "thing!" Solar choked for a moment in an attempt to stifle his laughter. "Moon, you owe me like seven hundred dollars. Eclipse, with very little respect, I refuse to help you. Besides, seeing you helpless is kind of funny to me."

Eclipse groaned and mumbled, though what he said when unheard. He felt his face begin to heat up from embarrassment. This new emotion led to him pressing his entire body into a smaller state, knees bent in, shoulders raised and arms crossed, head pulled closer to his body.

Only a few minutes passed and Eclipse found himself on Moon's couch, being guarded by Solar as Moon was in another room to retrieve god knows what. Eclipse sat with his legs spread out, and his arms crossed over his chest, attempting to put a barrier between himself and Solar without looking like some scared kid. For a moment, Eclipse forgot Solar was there, being lost in his thoughts. It wasn't long before he was brought back to reality by a surge of pain so bad he thought he would die. He hissed and tensed up, leaning forward.

Solar crouched next to him and put a hand on his shoulder. "Don't fall off the couch on me. I don't wanna have to pick you back up." Eclipse groaned and rolled his head to the side so he could look Solar in the eyes. The pity that met his gaze made him want to gag. Eclipse grabbed Solar's wrist and pushed him away, but this only made Solar more insistent, now putting both hands on Eclipse's shoulders.

He pushed Eclipse back far enough that he was leaning into the backrest, the cushion enveloping both sides of him. He didn't fight back this time, nor did he immediately spring up the second Solar released him. This position was comfortable, and actually helped a bit now that he wasn't folded right over the painful area. Solar seemed to notice this by the way his face flashed into a knowing smile.

Moon came back with a heated blanket, promptly tossing it right over Eclipse. Solar and Moon sat on the other couch, Moon eating a bag of chips. Eclipse, having only gotten a few hours of sleep in the fazcade, soon passed out again, not even laying down. He looked awfully peaceful while he slept, so much so you would have never thought he was the villain in the story. Solar promptly snapped a picture for later.

----

Eclipse woke to the sound of Moon's voice. "So what if he's been sleeping for two days!? Let him rest! He may be our mortal enemy but that doesn't mean we can just take away his basic fucking needs! How would you feel if I woke you up from a much needed nap!?"

"Moon I need to clean the blanket it hasn't been washed in a week!"

"You can wash it when he's done using it, instead of waking him up to steal it from him!"

He opened his eyes to see Sun and Moon standing in the kitchen, bickering, Sun had a half empty bottle if wine in hand and Moon was standing in his way of getting out from behind the island. Eclipse groaned and sat up, causing both the twins to fall silent.

"Quit your fucking fighting, you'll wake the damn dead with all that noise." In the blink of an eye, Moon was standing over Eclipse with one hand on his faceplate, looking him over. "Eclipse! It's been two days, are you okay!?"

"I'm fine, Moon. Get your damn hands off me!" Eclipse growled, moving to stand up. Moon promptly pushed him back onto the couch, hissing at him, "Stay down and just relax for five minutes. Last I checked, you don't have anywhere you need to be, so just chill. Me and Sun will bring you what you need, just take it easy for the day."

"Very funny. I don't need your damn pity, and I certainly don't care for sitting down and taking a damn break." Eclipse spat as he tried once again to worm his way off the couch. He made it about two inches from his seat before he was pushed right back onto the sofa. He chuckled, "You just aren't gonna give up, are you, Moon? You going to keep me here as your little couch prisoner? God you're annoying." Moon sighed, "I don't want you to get up unless you absolutely have to right now, your body needs time to rest. Besides, you deserve to take a break once in a while."

"Well aren't you just peachy?" Eclipse taunted Moon as he tried to get up again. As assumed, his attempts were pointless. Moon ended up putting Sun on guard duty while he left to get dinner. Sun, to nobody's surprise, was freaking out the entire time.

Come dinnertime, Eclipse found himself sat between Sun and Moon. He was given food that he didn't actually end up touching. Unlike the rest of the celestials, he hasn't been built with basic needs in mind. While he had the systems to eat, he couldn't open his mouth. This often led to him going to get food to cure his hunger, only to end up giving away the food he made so it wouldn't be wasted. Eclipse tried to express this issue to Moon on multiple occasions, but he didn't ever end up finishing his sentences due to either being ignored or interrupted.

After dinner, Moon led Eclipse to the guest room, tossing him a brand new pair of pajamas, still had the tags and everything. The outfit was rather soft to the touch, and somehow just the perfect size.

Unlike Moon or Sun, his clothing wasn't cemented onto his body, so he definitely was able to spend his time appreciating other outfits. He looked in the mirror at the way the pajamas fit him, and he smiled softly at how perfect this seemed. After a little longer of admiring his new sleepwear, Moon interrupted him.

"Come on, go to bed. I want to turn all the lights out now, and to do that everyone needs to be in bed." Moon stated this rather calmly as he pushed Eclipse into the bed. He handed Eclipse the remote to the TV and then left, turning out the lights. Moon was rather surprised when he shut the door and went up the stairs, only to hear the Bluey intro song of all things. He hadn't taken Eclipse to be someone who even watched TV, let alone kid's cartoons.

----

Eclipse wriggled himself under the covers, feeling himself become engulfed with warmth. He pulled one of the pillows out from under his head and then decided to turn on a show. After a long time searching, he settled on Bluey. He wasn't exactly in the mood for anything serious, and all the other kids shows were- to put it kindly -obnoxious. After a few hours, Eclipse ended up trailing right back to sleep, pressed against the pillow as though it were a living thing.

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