#workshopping this take. may need a couple more turns of the looking glass

[factorialsotherfandoms]

Finished part 1 of what I am nicknaming "5 times Cell botches his self-awareness check, and one time Cellbit succeeds"! Not all of this will get posted to tumblr, but you can have this one. Will upload it elsewhere later.

xcomau, as per usual, this is... well, Cell showing up at the military base in the 11-ish years ago backstory, and deciding to cause problems on purpose. Felps is tired, and Pac and Mike would like out. Later chapters get angsty, this one is just silly.

Has some notes on like names and stuff to go with, but eh. Am currently thinking of rearranging the next 4 scenes, but we'll see.

When Cell finally arrives at the Ant Farm, it has been up and running for a few weeks. The cause of the nickname is near immediately obvious, being built into an underground cave network and swarming with people all packed into slightly too little space. A couple of squads have already seen service, and dormitories are already being converted into training rooms, interrogation chambers, workshops, and all the other things that could be needed.

At first he and Felps are dragged into the Commander’s office, going through the rules. There are a number of restrictions placed on him and not on others, some of which may be lifted if he proves himself ‘reliable’. Cell somewhat doubts that he ever will, but compared to months of solitary… He will take anything he can get. Free, if escorted, access to the canteen is fine - what does he need the bar for?

Once briefed, they are shown to said canteen by the Base Manager. She tells them to get some food while she finishes sorting their room, and she will be back shortly. And then she is gone, leaving them alone before the reinforced doors.

Cell is banned from leaving, and Felps must accompany him; handcuffs are removed and placed on Felps’ belt, and together they enter the room.

As they do, a hush falls over the once loud room. A great many pairs of eyes turn and stare at him, so many that Cell can barely comprehend it. The looks are a combination of curiosity and fear; he smiles, and licks his lips, and waits to see what happens.

Almost immediately, there is a yelp and a sob from one of the tables. Cell turns to it, looking, and… Oh.

“Hello darlings,” he adjusts his words to look like addressing the room, even as he stares at a very, very familiar pair of traitors. He wants to ask if they missed him, but not while he commands the room. Instead, he asks everyone, “are you pleased to see me?” and watches them squirm.

Pac, clearly hearing him, flinches hard.

Mike, glowering through his glasses, grabs Pac’s hand.

Cell does not break eye contact as he picks up a knife from the cutlery tray.

How pathetic, that that is all it takes; Mike grabs Pac’s arm, pulling him from the room. As they leave, there is crying that follows them, and amused jeering from the collected soldiers. Among the noise he catches some laughter, and something about weak-willed scientists.

Cell isn’t sure he would call them that, but he is amused nonetheless.

He grins wider.

“Cellbit.” Felps sounds… disappointed.

“What?” he asks. “I was only saying hello.”

Felps sighs, and shakes his head, and drags him to get them both some food.

---

Dinner is an awkward affair, and despite everything the food is better than anything Cell has eaten before. The meat is properly cooked, the vegetables are only moderately overcooked, and someone actually bothered to spice it. He’s pretty sure it does not count as good, but he worked in the prison kitchen and knows the only spice their food ever saw was pepper.

And before the prison… There are reasons he turned to human flesh, and not all of them are sadism.

Too soon, the food is gone and without it Cell loses the shield between himself and the staring. Not permitted to get up to more, Cell sits, and waits. He makes eye contact with those brave enough to look at him, stares them down.

All of them, inevitably, flinch.

And so Cell stares harder, sizing them up. The difference between the soldiers and the base staff is only sometimes obvious, and more so in their behaviours than their builds. Both groups intermingle, separated more by rank than department, and limited entertainment options have most people regularly using the gym. Even the soldiers are starting to pale from a lack of sunlight, no matter how many advanced lighting techniques are used. There is not even a massive difference in which ones flinch fastest, only that in once they do the soldiers are bantered with whilst the base staff are heckled.

Cell does not join in with either the bantering or the heckling, though he does take it upon himself to provide plenty more opportunities for people to do so. Soon enough, most people have left; the bastards might have been the first to run, but they are far from the only ones.

Felps pointedly ignores his antics, toying with his food instead. After a bit he shoves it onto Cell's plate.

“I'm not hungry,” he says. “You take it.”

Cell is not about to refuse. Before Felps can change his mind, he scrambles to eat the food before him.

It's not even poisoned.

He eats a little slower this time, still hungry but not as desperate as before. No time is taken to taste it, he simply eats.

By the time he is done, the building manager is back. She nods to them both, and leads them away.

#qsmp x xcom #qsmp felps #qsmp cellbit #leaving the others for now #and thus began a number of great and terrible things #felps would like to cry he wanted away from cell and now he has this

[tiktaalic]

still not over may never beover that eric kripke said supernatural. is star wars. in truck stop america. and steven yockey said. okay. let’s go to a truck stop then. what happens at a truck stop. men are clockable or men are closeted but no matter what they are preyed on

#etxt #spnwatch #yockeynatural #workshopping this take. may need a couple more turns of the looking glass #ask to tag

[floofs-headcanons]

Hello hello! Both of your have such awesome writing! I had so much fun reading the headcanons and scenarios of the bodyguard AU! Could I request either college AU or a soulmate AU or your choosing for Zoro? Whatever you feel like writing! Thank you!!

College & Soulmate AU; Scenario

Character; Zoro

Word Count; 1,718

Thank you so much, we’re glad you liked it !! But no, but let me tell you how we screamed at each other for literally half an hour when we saw this request. There were too many good soulmate AUs we ended up using a generator aksjdhas.

The first time you and your soulmate touch you get stuck together for a while.

December is when you find him sleeping on campus grounds. He’s resting on one of the outdoor tables, book open, with arms covering the pages. Snow is falling, and you’re cold even with a heavy fur coat and umbrella keeping the white specs from melting into your hair.

You’re not sure if you should wake him up despite the fact that he was wearing nothing other than a T-shirt and some jeans, but he doesn’t seem very bothered. Well, that is until he sneezes. It’s followed by some incoherent grumbling and nearly scares the shit out of you, but it’s enough for you to decide to help.

“Hey,” you poke his cheek with the butt of your umbrella, not too fond of touching strangers. “Hey!”

He doesn’t stir, and you’re left wondering if anyone else has tried to help him before you showed up and ended up leaving it be because he wouldn’t budge.

Still, you couldn’t leave him here in this type of temperature; so you decide to leave your umbrella behind. It’s long enough to lean against the table and shield him from the ever piling snow without directly touching any part of his body and possibly bothering his rest- not that you think it would. He didn’t flinch even when you yelled at him.

December is when you’re working at Shakky’s bar late into the night to pay off your college tuition.

Those loans wouldn’t pay themselves after all and the salary was good. 

The company at the bar itself was interesting to say the least. You could never truly say you had a dull night while working there. Be it the slurring drunks and their awful attempts at pickup lines, to the terribly sobering tales that would be shared across the counter; it was an eye opening experience. 

Tonight would be much like any other- at least, that’s what you had thought until a familiar man comes through the door. 

He seemed well- that was good. You didn’t give it too much thought, after all, you were on the clock and this was a rather popular bar for the student body to frequent. From the way Shakky greets him, he must’ve been a regular long before you had begun working here.

Setting down the glass you had been mindlessly polishing, your attention is drawn towards a customer sitting near the back of the bar. He’s a bit louder than the other customers, but you were pretty used to that. Eustass Kid came in all the time and drank until he either passed out or his blonde haired friend carried him out forcefully. At the very least he wasn’t bothering anybody.

“Excuse me,” the green haired man raises a hand, successfully catching your attention. It seems he was done talking to Shakky by now.

“Yes?” You make your way over, an award-winning customer service smile tugging at the corner of your lips. “What can I get for you?”

He ends up getting a few, maybe more than a few, beers. This man sure could drink.

December is when your car decides it needs its own break from the cold winter snow. It thankfully doesn’t break down anywhere too traffic heavy, and there’s an auto-repair shop not even five minutes away.

“Oh, hello,” you greet, surprised to see a familiar face working here. He’s wearing a tank-top and some slacks, and this time you think the attire is appropriate given how much he was sweating.

The owner, Franky, had more than generously came to pick up your mobile and gave you a ride along the way, saying it would be done the same day. I have a reliable repairman, he said more than just a bit too loudly for comfort.

The male glances up at you for a second before going back to finish up on the vehicle he was already occupied with. “Hey, there.” You’re not too sure if he recognizes you- it’s a hard to not recognize him- but that’s fine, you just needed your car fixed.

It doesn’t take him very long to finish up on his current project before moving onto yours. He thankfully doesn’t ask any questions, it seems like the owner had already filled him in, and just starts working.

“You know,” he spares you a glance, picking up another tool. “He said it’d be done the same day but it’s still gonna take a few hours. Don’t you have anything better to do?”

“Unfortunately not,” you sigh. The only plans you had were to go back home and take a long, long nap, but there was no way you were going to walk back in this type of weather. For a while, you’re standing around a little awkwardly, fiddling with the fluffs of your sleeves before he speaks up.

“If you want you could sit inside where it’s warmer. There’s a TV and some magazines you could read to keep you occupied.” You debate that for a bit, looking through the glass door to the waiting area, but ultimately decide to stick around for a bit longer.

“It’s fine,” you say with a smile. You could wait inside later, for now you’d want to wander a bit. It’s not every day you’d get to go to an auto-repair shop and you’ve always been a bit curious with how often Kid yells about it in the bar. “Would it be alright if I take a look around?”

He gives a grunt of approval and you make yourself comfortable, roaming the workshop. It’s quite big, and you hadn’t noticed ‘til now that the walls were painted in vibrant blues, red, and yellow. It matched the owner’s eccentric personality.

“Oh,” a stand hidden to the back of the shop catches your attention; a lone umbrella resting on its handles. Yours- to be more precise. “You use an umbrella during snow time?” You hadn’t bothered to ask for it back, the thought never really occurred to you. Considering they weren’t that expensive buying a new one wouldn’t be much of a hassle. If anything, you were more surprised he’s kept it around.

The male clears his throat, stopping whatever it was he was doing to your car and wipes his hands down with a towel. “Actually,” he admits sheepishly, “I’ve been meaning to return it to you. I just kept forgetting.”

You raise a brow, “You knew it was mine?”

“I’ve seen you use it around campus before,” he admits. “Not a lot of people use an umbrella while it’s snowing, and the color’s pretty vibrant so it’s hard to not notice. I had wanted to give it to you when I visited the bar, but you were constantly busying yourself so I never got the chance.”

A chuckle escapes your lips at his little confession. He seemed like such an intimidating guy, with the furrowed brows and scar over his eye, but he was a lot more awkward than one would expect. “Well,” you catch his attention. “I’m working there again tomorrow night if you want to come give it to me in person.” December is when you’re sparing hopeful glances at the door every time the bell chimes.

“Expecting someone?” Shakky teases, coming behind the bar and pouring herself a glass.

“Something like that,” you mutter before making your way past her to attend to someone in the corner of the room. It’s the same person from around two weeks ago- he’s louder this time, but there were also less customers tonight and no one seems to be complaining any so you let it slide. “Yes? How may I hELP-?!”

What you can’t let slide is how he forcefully grabs your wrist and essentially drags your body to lean over the table. “Ah, damn,” you’re used to drunks, not idiots. He has a permanent grin plastered over his lips and his grip on your wrist tightens. “I can’t let go! Guess we must be soulmates!”

There is no explaining the disgust that washes over your face. “Sir, I’m asking you politely to let go.”

Everyone who goes here knows that it’s simply an unwritten rule to not fight unless you wanted to be beaten half to death. Not by you- dear lord no- Shakky on the other hand was ruthless and you’d never want to end up on the other side of her fist.

Ever.

“Huh?” He slurs, “didn’t I just tell you that I can’t let go?”

“I’m telling you-” before you’re able to get anymore words out another hand wraps around the older man’s wrist, successfully shutting you up. For a second, the dread of it being one of his friends rises, but it’s quickly crushed by the voice that follows.

“I’m sure you’re not deaf. She said let go.”

The bar is dead silent for a few seconds before the man roughly releases his grip on your arm. A bit gentler would’ve been nice, you internally grumble, rubbing the sore area.

“Hey there, could I ask exactly what you were trying to do with my precious barkeep?” Your boss comes over, leaning against the table. She gives you a wink and a slight nudge of her head towards the break room and you don’t think twice before leaving the scene, your green haired friend following close behind.

“Is your wrist alright?” He questions as soon as the door closes. “My bad for being late, I got held back by some work Franky wanted done.”

His hand reaches out to gently hold your wrist and a spark of electricity shocks you both. Usually, your first instinct would be to flinch and pull away, but he has a firm grip.

“Uhm,” you glance down, then back up at him. “It’ll probably bruise tomorrow but it’s nothing to worry too much about...”

His face is unreadable, and after a couple seconds his ears turn a faint shade of red. “I can’t let go.”

You chuckle at his poor attempt of a joke. “C’mon now, we just went through this.” You lift your free hand to pry his fingers off your wrist only to feel the same electric shock as earlier. It doesn’t hurt, only stinging enough to really initially surprise anyone, but you quickly realize he wasn’t trying to pull your leg.

Oh.

“So,” he awkwardly lifts his other hand. “I brought your umbrella.”

#roronoa zoro #roronoa zoro x reader #one piece scenario #one piece x reader #the way we struggled writing this is unreal #but also it was really fun so maybe it was worth it LOL #this turned out way longer than i expected it to #struggle was worth it fr

[mminttae]

Clandestine | 02

-> Pairing : Jeon Jungkook x reader

-> Genre : tattoo!artist Jungkook, mafia! JJK,mafia au, bloody!missions, slight violence, got secrets they can't tell, angst, romance, Jungkook's part time job is flirting, sad (backstory), Y/N is strong!

-> Summary : who would have known that just doing a part time job at a night club would lead you to the tattoo artist Jeon Jungkook's messed up world. One letter related to the secret comes out of your mouth you'll be laying in Jungkook's arms but alive or not, that's not guaranteed...

-> Word Count : 4.286 K ( A/N: I’m increasing words )

-> T/W body language, killing, curse words and intimacy are included in the story (you may read if you're comfortable with these)

Part : 2

<< previous chap

.・゜-: ✧ :-playlist -: ✧ :-゜・．

Jungkook's mouth opened and closed like a goldfish. Even if me saying that line didn't flatten him enough I knew the nickname did as it always have been doing. It was clearly visible that he didn't expect me to be this bold suddenly. But he being himself smirked after a couple of seconds as his hand snaked up to grab my wrist pulling me more closer "Sure princess.. Do you want to go to the trip now? " His tongue rolling over his bottom lip as his piercing doe eyes holding so many thoughts looked at my lips then to my eyes.

"I don't want to interrupt but the trip has to be postponed "Jimin interferes in the moment, his eyes narrowed and only looking at me as if scared that the younger guy would throw him out if he locked eyes with his. Making a 'tch' sound Jungkook raises his eyebrows at Jimin in a manner that reads he's asking why postpone. I yeet his hand which was holding my wrist and get off from the table clearing my throat while fixing the skirt and apron. Jungkook clearly disappointed for not being able to hear my answer gets up from the seat while putting the black leather jacket around his shoulders. Jimin and Taehyung following him gets up too grabbing their bags. Jungkook walked up to me while fixing his bangs with his index finger.

"Gotta go princess a client's waiting" Nodding I proceeded to walk away but I could hear Jungkook saying with a sad dramatic tone. "Atleast act that you don't want me to go". I'm afraid I won't be able to because I myself don't know what this client of yours gonna do if you don't go on time. Is the person waiting even a client or not? Knitting my eyebrows I look back only to meet with strangers taking up the seat. The three tall mesmerizing men with inks on their body not to be seen anywhere. I don't know what's going on in that foolish yet extremely clever brain of yours but...

Be careful Mr. Artbook..

End of YOUR POV

Mid summer yet the night breeze is able to run shivers down your spine. Not a single soul in sight.

10 at night maybe the shopkeepers closed down the shutters and went to bed. Not many shops here in this area to even begin with. The only workshop's bell which rings here is the Jeon's Tattoo corner which has been ringing from the morning today , seemed to have stopped in the evening but now making its sound again. "Argh I should really break down this bell "

With an annoyed expression the black haired guy opens the drawers searching for a fresh towel. The tall man who just entered the shop walked past the desk table, turning the door knob and allowing himself inside the cozy room. His loud footsteps on the wooden floor telling Jungkook that the guest has arrived.

"Where were you? I waited here for five minutes then went inside the nearby plant store to kill time"

Taking off the long coat the tall silver haired guy walks up to the chair positioned in the middle of the room beside the various tools. "Sorry hyung, Taehyung and Jimin wanted a new tattoo so went to hear out their designs"

Jungkook says, eyebrows knitted while he fishes out the stencil of the beautiful clematis he has drawn beforehand of the leader's arrival. Smiling to himself he walks up to the seated boss whose like a big brother to him, he puts the stencil aside. Taking out a black rubber band from his pocket he takes his hair and ties it up to a small ponytail before taking out a drawer full of tattoo needles and inks. "Heard that Yoongi started boxing classes with you"

The older male speaks as his lip corners slowly moves upwards. Jungkook giving out a laugh says, "Yea Yoongi hyung be moving like a turtle. "

The thought of his hyung boxing and whining that it's hard is enough to make the little one giggle. Taking out a small wooden stool with one hand as the other one was holding the tattoo gun, Jungkook sits himself beside the strong looking man who rolls up his shirt's sleeves revealing all the different type of arts and words of different languages tattooed on his arm.

"Need chewing gum?"

The younger one asks at the thought that it might hurt but the older one replies plainly that he's fine after all his skin had been coming in contact with this gun for a long time now. Jungkook nods before resting the needle on the free space on the top of the man's biceps before starting to draw on it, the awestrucking clematis. "Was thinking of getting a lip piercing but not being able to get it cuz of the adults in the house"

The man says while his dimples makes visits to his cheeks.

"The exact same reason why am postponing on getting an eyebrow piercing"

Jungkook replies as he carefully moves the tattoo gun sideways on the man's bicep.

"So when are you planning on telling your sister?"

He asks as the silver haired guy closes his eyes once realizing what Jungkook meant.

"When the time's right.. "

He replies, slowly opening his eyes his gaze meeting the ceiling.

"But first we need to pinpoint Mr. Choi's location"

Replying with a small and quiet yes Jungkook draws the details on the flower carefully.

"Seokjin has been checking the cctvs regularly and the only thing he found was the black hyundai stopping at a night club at exactly 7pm every Tuesday and Wednesday"

"What's the night club's name? "

Jungkook asks as he draws on the small leaves.

"Hell's night club"

With just the mention of the night club's name Jungkook's hand stops moving as his eyes widened. "Isn't that the club you often visit with the others? "

The silver haired man asks making Jungkook quietly nod his head. If the most feared mafia in the country slash his team's biggest rival had been going to the exact same club at the exact same time as his how come he never saw the familiar old man's face? He thought.

What kind of person does the man disguise him as that even Jimin who encountered him multiple times doesn't notice. "You should be careful and try to see your clients faces carefully and see if they match that old fart's face or not"

Jungkook humming a response continued on giving the clematis it's final touch. Finishing the tattoo he removes the gun making the silver haired man sit up straight and fix his shirt.

"You know what to do right?"

Jungkook asks referring to putting on Vaseline ointment on the tattoo and stuffs. The older guy nods while fetching his coat. "I'll get going then. Thanks for the tattoo kook"

Jungkook simply nods his mind stuck in a different topic. Putting the equipments away and tidying up the towels as the older guy leaves the shop and disappears into the darkness of the night in the empty alleyway, Jungkook couldn't help but think about what you were up to. His mind stitching up different negative thoughts together.

"If Mr. Choi is really going to that club then he must have seen Y/N always talking to us..... What if he does something to her? " Jungkook asks to himself and the next thing he does is take his bag, turn off the lights, lock the doors and run off to meet you.

• -

"I'll be off then"

Bowing politely you take hold of the two big disposable bags and huff out a breathe when you realize how heavy both of them were. Kicking the back staff door with your leg open the first thing you see is Jeon Jungkook leaning on the wall infront. His hair tied up in a small ponytail, a bag hung around his shoulder and inked hands resting inside his jeans pockets. His eyes falls on your hands holding the disposable garbage bags, sighing he walks up to you.

"I thought your job was to serve and take orders not bring out garbages" You looked down at the bags in your hands while saying, "I was coming out anyways it's no biggie"

You flashed him a small smile but his eyes looked worried and his face tensed. You wondered what happened but didn't dare to ask thinking that he will only answer with 'none of your business' . Yes Jeon Jungkook unknowingly says harsh things without thinking when he's tensed. Jungkook takes the garbage bags from your hands and put it beside the door when his eyes lands on your right hand which was bandaged. His eyes widen and he quickly took your right hand examining it while asking

"How did this happen? Are you okay? "

Embarrassed you put your hand away from his warm ones and answer while smiling, not making eye contact

"It's okay I'm fine these kind of injuries are meant to happen if you work in a bar." Jungkook not convinced took your hand again now keeping it infront of him not letting you pull it back. His eyebrows knitted . "You were totally fine this evening tell me what happened". Chewing on your bottom lip you look down, fiddling with the hem of your shirt.

"Y/N tell me what happened.." Jungkook says once again this time his voice laced with concern as his hands caressed your hair. You were actually a bit taken aback at how the always dominant voice of Jungkook is making its way to you in a concerned and soft way.

"A drunk guy harshly pulled my hand wanting me to sit beside him but I fought back and he suddenly let go of me making me loose my balance at hit the edge of the glass table behind and that's how I got this"

You say while looking at your bandaged hand which was now resting in jungkook's warm palm. He softly held your injured hand and lower down a bit to meet your height. Looking at your eyes he said

"Tell me who did this. Tell me who did this to you I'm gonna fucking kill him"

In a calm soft voice but the last part obviously didn't come out in a soft way. You laughed and pushed him a bit away from you. "It's okay am fine don't overreact he was drunk" But Jungkook not buying the answer walked closer to you and again with a serious tone asked you . "Tell me how he looked like"

Knowing that he won't let go of the topic unless you give him a proper answer you sigh, rolling your eyes while describing the drunk man you happened to meet inside the club. "He had small eyes , a sharp nose and dark stubble on his face and.." You trailed off thinking what else did the man have but Jungkook interrupted asking in a quick manner

"Did he have any sort of tattoo on his wrist? " Replaying the moment inside your head you widen your eyes a bit and nod your head, "Yea he did.. Was that a crown? A crown maybe"

Exactly knowing who that drunk man you encountered was Jungkook's chest sank at the thought that the old man touched you with his dirty hands. Gulping down the saliva that formed in his mouth he without thinking pulled you to his chest engulfing you in a hug. He wasn't sure why he felt like protecting you but he wanted to . He wasn't supposed to feel this way now that he set his mind on the plan his brain made up on the way here but..he did. He wanted to make sure you were safe.

Widening your eyes at how Jungkook suddenly hugged you, your mind went blank. There's no doubt in how fast your heart was beating. To be honest to yourself you were actually frightened when that man tried touching you in an ill manner but now being in Jungkook's arms you felt safe. You felt safe when he was around. Jungkook's arms around you got tighter as he nuzzled his face in the crook of your neck.

So this is how you gonna play it Mr. Choi

He thinks.

•-

Flashback 5 weeks back

Stretching your arms you give out a small yawn before grabbing the books from the table and making your way out of the auditorium. Walking while looking at your  surroundings you didn't notice the tall man standing infront of you. Too immersed in the same old paintings hanging on the walls you hit something hard making the copies and books in your hands fall down. Without looking up at the person you bumped into you quickly said 'sorry' while kneeling down to pick up your supplies. The tall gentleman kneeled down too helping you with picking up your stationerys. You got up, the man following you soon. This time facing the guy properly as both of you made eye contact you were about to say thank you when your voice abruptly decided to not come out.

The man had soft long black hair .The kind of hair you would want to play with all day. His baby doe eyes staring at you, his lips parted. The oversized hoodie he was wearing made him the grizzly huggable bear image more.

As your eyes scanned him from head to toe, your lips a bit parted, the guy not being able to control his laughter at how cute you looked when your eyes went big as if you saw something really interesting and you'd like to study that thing more, he gave out small giggles making you quickly close your mouth and look at him. Noticing how every students in tha hall were staring at both of you, you shifted your weight from one leg to another leg uncomfortably. But the guy's Adorable bunny smile didn't go out of your notice. His eyes wrinkled as he tilted his face and asked you softly

"You okay? "

Blinking couple of times you nodded your head making him shyly scratch his nape and mumble 'thank god'. Your lips automatically curved up when your eyes landed on the ID card hung around his neck

"Jeon Jungkook"

Once realization hit you that you were now standing infront of your college's hearthrob while looking like a whole mess which you didn't care about that much until you bumped into him, your cheeks got tinted in a light blush. Pulling your lips in you tilted your head a bit to the side making your baby hairs fall over your face.

"Hey kook!"

A loud deep voice entered the ears of the people standing in the hall making them turn their heads to the two seniors waving their hands at Jungkook's direction, a big wide smile plastered know their face. Jungkook takes out his bracelet covered wrist from his pocket and waves at them. Jimin running towards us and wrapping his arm around the tall guy's shoulders he notices me and flashes me a smile

"Hey Y/N"

Waving your sweater paw at him as a hey you smiled. You met Jimin and Taehyung a couple of times before in some group works with seniors. You not really interested in gossips of the college noticed just a few days ago that Park Jimin, Kim Taehyung and Jeon Jungkook are the well known hot trio of this college.

"Y/N.."

Jungkook repeats your name to himself before looking at you once again , smiling while saying

"Sweet name"

His sweet honey voice saying your name was enough to melt you. If it was any other guy right now you would have simply said thank you for helping you pick up the books and walk away without saying anything but surprisingly Jeon Jungkook made you stop. "I'm hungry didn't have breakfast this morning" Taehyung whines while holding his tummy earning a slap on his head from Jimin. "we are going for lunch wanna join us? "

Jungkook asks you making you widen your eyes at the sudden invitation and Jungkook earning some smirks from the seniors beside him, Jimin elbowing his arm while wiggling his eyebrows. Jungkook simply rolled his eyes at his hyungs before looking at you for a reply. You glancing at your silver wrist watch said "I would love to but I should get going. I have some stuffs to do"

Jungkook quietly nods his head before flashing you a smile.

Is he always smiling?

You thought noticing that he had been smiling since the moment both of you met. "Y/N's always studying hard"

Taehyung says earning a nod from Jimin making you shyly scratch your nape.

The Brunnete haired approached you giving you a pat on your shoulder before saying "Study well but don't forget to have lunch okay? "

You flashed him a smile while nodding. Jungkook waving his hands at you as a 'bye' walked past you with the two boys. You looked back at three of them noticing that two of them were wearing hoodies and one of them were wearing full sleeved tees.

It's so hot these days why are they wearing hoodies on top of tees?

Shaking your head you quickened your pace and quickly got out of the college grounds. Walking to the bus stand while looking around at the cozy coffee shops on the streets you keep glancing at your watch from time to time to make sure that you're going on time or not.

Now here's a secret about you that no one knows

You're a student at an art college but you are also a student at a law school. Your father runs the family business of electronics. Yes the electronics company ranking the second best in the country out of all the other electronic companies, which he wants to hand over to your big brother after he retires. Your mother always wanted a child of her to be a sculptor. Borning late in the family with the talent of art you were forced to study this subject whereas you were interested in prosecution, catching criminals and stuffs. What you were most interested in were being a mafia or an assassin but you gave up on those dreams and decided to study law. Your parents only giving their all attention and care to their first born, didn't care about you that much. The only thing they wanted from you was becoming a great sculptor and bringing praise to your family.

After nights of confusion and judgement you decided to study in the law school that you got admitted, secretly with the money your grandparents left you. Your grandparents left some money for you and your brother before passing away and thankfully they were enough to pay for your study books expenses. But maintaining time for your law school as well as the art school was hard but you managed to make time after dropping off from some extra courses of the art college without telling your parents. But it was hectic. Your college hours starts from 7 am. And you have classes till 9am then a break at 9:15 am to 10:30 due to dropping off from some extra class. Your law classes starts from 9:30 so during the break you quickly leave the grounds and head off to the law classes. Then you return to the art college at 10:20 when it's a break at your law school. Then once again when it's a lunch break at the art school you head off to the law school while munching on some snacks, obviously not getting time to have proper lunch. And when it comes to events you had to make up excuses at the law school for not attending as your parents would obviously not skip their daughter's presentations.

It would be more hectic from today cuz you just applied to a job at a night club. There's a course for learning shooting at the law school but you don't have enough money to pay for that so it's time to earn some money.

•••

Stretching your arms while getting up from the seat you had been sitting on straight for 2 hours, you give a yawn before taking out a scrunchie and putting your hair up. All the classes for the day are done. Putting the back pack around your shoulder you bow at the teacher before leaving the school premises. Walking inside the bus and sitting on one of the seat you take out your phone and start typing to your mother , 'Mom I'll be late tonight as I got some extra lessons. Don't worry for me and you don't have to send car I'll come by bus'

"No one's gonna worry about me though"

You say to yourself while letting out a small laugh and looking out at the window. Everything vanishing from your sight at a fast pace as the vehicle picks up its speed upon seeing the empty road. Some of the street lights flickering due to not being fixed for several days now. You take out the 'guideline' paper of the bar you're gonna work in from backpack, going through the structure of the building in your mind and remembering all the rules explained to you yesterday when you went to apply for the job. This night club only seemed to be safe for you to work in now. By safe means you would have no worries of the common students who spends time in bars and clubs to see you. If anyone recognizes you then it's game over. Plus the pay is high too.

The phone screen lighting up as a notification popped up you unlocked the phone before seeing from whom the text is from.

Bro: heard you're coming late at night should I pick you up from the way while coming home?

"Geez already told him?"

You say to yourself once realizing that your mom told your brother to pick up but your brother being nice asked if you want to be picked up first or not. Smiling at his text before typing your reply It's ok you don't have to come. The office is far away from my college anyways. Get home safely.

Waiting for a few minutes to see his reply which you didn't get you turned off your phone and put it inside your bag. Looking out from the window thinking why he didn't reply when he saw your text whereas usually he would try to come pick you up, being the 'protective' brother. You got down from the bus as soon as the bus came to its stop. You walked for a few more minutes from the bus stop till arriving at your destination.

Hell's night club

•••

It's been only five minutes of you serving drinks but you're already tired. How can a human body and mind work for 13 hours straight without any rest. You did mess up some tables a couple of times for which you were now getting a scolding from the manager. You looking down bowing slightly while your hands in front of you.

"Miss Lee Y/N did you properly see the table numbers today? "

The old man asks to which you nod. "Then why are you messing up? " He asks in a raised voice making you flinch and quickly mumble a sorry. You lift your head up a bit to see the old man sighing while pinching his forehead, clearly visible that he's angry. "I'm letting you go as this is your first time don't make mistakes anymore"

He says making you bow and say

"Thank you"

He looked around trying to see if any waitresses are free. Sighing at how there's no one free without counting you he gave you a look before handing you a tray of various kinds of drinks. "Take this to table no. 14. And  do not  make any mistakes. They are regulars here I don't want them gone" Nodding at him you set off to find this table no. 14 . Noticing how your skirt got up a bit you tried pulling the skirt a bit down with one hand as the other one was holding the tray, you quickly withdraw your hand without fixing the skirt upon seeing the tray tremble in one hand. Quickly holding the tray in place and scanning if any drinks were spilled, you sigh in relief. You looked back to only lock eyes with the manager . He staring straight at you with his cold eyes. You gave a small awkward smile and walked towards table 14.

The table no. 14 seemed to be surrounded by many big men. All had some sort of tattoos on them. A familiar man sitting in the middle holding a pen and scribbling something on a notebook. His inked arms full on display as the silver earrings were still being able to shine despite the dullness in the scene. His long bangs falling before his eyes not letting anyone see the face beneath it.

You quietly approached the table and when you raised your eyes from the ground to the man sitting in the middle, your legs automatic came to a halt and your breath hitched.

Jeon Jungkook right there was sitting. The table in front occupied with various weapons and him sitting like a whole five course meal, fingers playing with the dangly earrings

This is totally not what I expected

#jungkook tattoo #jungkook ff #mafia jungkook #tattoo artist jungkook #jjk imagines #bts imagines #bts namjoon #bts yoongi #BTS jimin #bts hoseok #bts seokjin #bts taehyung #wow i'm posting

[august-anon]

Are You Still?

I got hyperfixated on It a couple months ago and now here we are lol, this has been in my fic backlog for a while now. Hope you enjoy this one!

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Fandom: It (movies)

Ship(s): Reddie

Characters (lee/ler): Switch!Richie/Switch!Eddie

Word Count: 3879 words

Summary: Richie finds himself in a position that brings up some of the few fond memories he has from Derry. He decides to relive some of them.

[ao3 link]

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Richie yelped as his legs and feet were suddenly shoved roughly off the couch, startling him out of his doze. He glared up at the offender and saw Eddie, already glaring back at him as he took a seat on the other end of Bill’s couch.

“What the fuck, man?” Richie asked, bringing one of his legs back up to shove at Eddie’s shoulder with his foot.

“If you’re gonna sleep, go do it in a bed,” Eddie snapped back, crossing his arms. “Don’t take up the whole fucking couch with your freakishly long sasquatch legs. This isn’t even your couch anyway, what the hell is wrong with you?”

Richie rolled his eyes. “The others aren’t getting here for another two hours, I think I’m allowed a fucking nap.”

“If you went to sleep at a normal fucking time,” Eddie said, slicing his hand through the air, “you wouldn’t need to take so many naps. What the fuck do you even do all night? I get texts from you at like, three in the morning!”

Richie leaned forward with a grin. “Well, if you really want to know--”

“If this is a joke about my mom you better shut the fuck up right now.”

Richie tossed his head back with a laugh. “Alright, alright.”

Richie had enough self control to give the scene about two minutes to settle. Then, he swung his legs back onto the couch and draped them over Eddie’s lap.

“Hey!” Eddie said, trying to push his legs off. “Get off me, asshole! Stop taking up the whole couch!”

Richie tilted his head back and let out an obnoxious snoring sound. Eddie huffed out a frustrated breath and it took all of Richie’s stage skills to not start laughing at him.

Then, unexpectedly, Eddie swung his own legs up on the couch along with Richie’s. Richie startled, jerking his head up to give Eddie an odd look, but yelped when Eddie started kicking and shoving at Richie with his feet.

“What the hell, man?!”

Eddie didn’t reply. There was a grin growing on his face as he slid down the couch, trying to reach further with his feet. Richie found it entirely too adorable, which unfortunately distracted him from Eddie sending a foot flying toward his face. Richie yelped and barely dodged out of the way in time to save his glasses from Eddie’s wrath. The scene unlocked a memory in his mind, long buried despite regaining his memories from Derry.

 At this point, Richie only hogged the hammock as an excuse to get close to Eddie. It was honestly pretty uncomfortable, the hammock wasn’t meant for two people, even as `small as Eddie was, and it was a hassle to get them both to fit most of the time.

Which, surprisingly, was only partially where the kicking came in. The rest was because Eddie and Richie were just like that.

They were arguing loudly over the hammock again, which happened pretty much every time they were in the clubhouse together. Richie barely managed to dodge a foot, clearly aiming to hook around his glasses and throw them off his face. It was one of Eddie’s favorite moves, because it left Richie blind and annoyed, and it wasn’t exactly easy to annoy someone as annoying as Richie.

Before Eddie could go for his frames again, Richie grabbed his ankle, fighting for control of the limb. Eddie tried to tug his leg back, shouting a number of obscenities at Richie, but Richie just grinned a memory sparking in his mind.

“Hey Eds--”

“Don’t call me Eds, fucknut!”

“Are you still ticklish as fuck?”

Eddie’s eyes went wide and he started yelling even louder. Out of the corner of his eye, Richie caught Bev laughing at them while Stan rolled his eyes. They could shut the fuck up, in Richie’s humble opinion, this meant absolutely nothing at all, and Richie’s heart was totally not beating wildly out of his chest.

Richie started scratching his nails against the arch of Eddie’s socked foot, and Eddie’s obscenities quickly became interspersed with laughter. Richie couldn’t help but laugh along with him, wiggling his fingers along with his scratching to try and get an even better reaction.

“Fuck -- Richie, please!”

Richie smirked at him. “Begging already, Eddie Spaghetti? I know you can last longer than that.”

“Rich!!”

Foolishly, Eddie kicked at Richie with his other foot, trying to knock Richie’s hands off him. Instead, Richie let out his best evil laugh (it fell a little flat, Richie definitely needed to workshop it, but even still, a blush rose to Eddie’s adorable little ears) and grabbed Eddie’s other foot. Eddie shrieked and tried to escape, but Richie quickly pressed Eddie’s legs together before wrapping his own legs around Eddie’s knees to keep them there.

“Richie, don’t you fucking dare!”

“Oh, I dare, Eds.”

Richie immediately went back to scratching at Eddie’s arches, grinning when he burst back into loud laughter. He scrunched his soles and tried to shake Richie’s hands off, twisting and turning and kicking what little he could, but unable to get free from Richie’s hold. He couldn’t even flip the hammock over to knock them to the floor, though it was clear he was trying.

“What’s wrong, Eds, can’t get away?”

Even through his laughter, Eddie still managed to cry out, “Don’t you fucking call me that!”

As usual, Richie ignored him, moving down to tickle at his heels. Eddie tumbled into childish, high-pitched giggles that were so adorable that even Richie’s ears went pink. It was nothing compared to the flush suddenly filling Eddie’s face, though, all too aware of how he sounded.

“Cute cute cute!” Richie called out to him.

Eddie didn’t reply, he simply covered his giggling face.

“Aw, come on Eddie, don’t hide!”

“Shut the fuck up!”

Richie decided to be nice and stop embarrassing Eddie, moving his fingers up to tickle just under Eddie’s socked toes. Eddie’s hands dropped from his face as his eyes bulged out of his skull, shrieking and trying desperately to kick his legs out of Richie’s grasp. He tried to sit up to reach Richie’s hands, but Richie used one foot to push back against his chest while still pinning Eddie’s knees as best as he could.

“Richie!!”

Richie grinned. “Yes, Eddie my love?”

“Please!”

Richie chuckled under his breath and cocked his head to the side. “You know, you haven’t actually asked me to stop.”

Richie lightened his touch so Eddie was only giggling, and Eddie’s eyes widened in surprise. He stammered for a few seconds, even as he was giggling and panting, before he found his words.

“Yes-- Yes I have!”

“N-n-no you h-haven’t!” Bill helpfully called across the clubhouse.

Eddie went so red that Richie was almost worried he would burst a blood vessel in his face. He couldn’t help the stupid grin that spread across his face as Eddie glared at him.

“Well-- fucking stop, then!”

Richie stopped immediately, freeing Eddie’s legs. And he may have been an asshole, but he was at least nice enough to not mention the disappointment that crossed Eddie’s face when Richie finally freed him.

 “Hey Eds--”

Eddie’s scowled deepened, even as he kept his feet flying toward Richie’s glasses, trying to knock them off. “Don’t call me Eds, fucknut!”

Richie grinned brightly, trapping Eddie’s feet and legs in that same hold from so long ago. “Are you still ticklish as fuck?”

Eddie’s eyes went wide. He started kicking even harder, trying to free his legs before Richie could attack. Richie wiggled his fingers threateningly above Eddie’s socked feet.

“Don’t you fucking dare!” Eddie shouted. “I will fucking kill you, don’t you fucking dare!”

Richie laughed. The whole situation was starting to give him a bit of deja vu, the only thing missing was the near-sickening swing of a shitty old hammock from all of Eddie’s squirming.

“Oh, I dare, Eds.”

Richie started scratching at Eddie’s arches with both hands, showing no mercy. Eddie burst into laughter immediately, trying and failing to tug his legs back. Just like when they were kids, Richie couldn’t help but laugh with him.

“Richie, come on!”

“Yes, Eddie?”

Eddie squealed at a particularly vicious wiggle of Richie’s nails against his skin, arching his back and scrunching his feet up. His feet wiggled and twisted in Richie’s grasp, and Richie play-growled as he tried to keep them still and tickle them at the same time.

“Hold still!” Richie said. “Or’ll I’ll go for your toes!”

Eddie gasped through his laughter, thrashing even harder. Richie laughed as he tightened his legs around Eddie’s own.

“Please!” Eddie yelled.

An evil grin spread across Richie’s face. “Please tickle your toes?”

Eddie yelled wordlessly.

“I think I will, since you asked so nicely.”

Richie dug his fingers into the fabric beneath Eddie’s toes, trying his best to tickle despite how scrunched up his feet were. He was really more tickling the balls of his feet at this point. Eddie howled and tossed his head back, more pleas and curses falling from his lips.

“Alright, that’s it,” Richie said. “If that’s how you’re gonna be--”

Richie started pulling Eddie’s socks off. Eddie desperately gripped them in his toes, squirming and kicking to dislodge Richie, but there was a smile on his face all the while even though Richie wasn’t actively tickling him. His dimples were bright and deep, even with the scar that cut through the one on his left cheek, and his ears were a bright pink. Richie’s heart stuttered in his chest.

Damn his stupid fucking childhood crush, coming back to bite him in the ass over 20 years later. How could he still be in love with Eddie Kaspbrack, even after all these years?

At least Richie was good at burying his feelings, especially before people could see them on his face. And Eddie, arguably the best at reading him (aside from Stan, at least, but Stan could read everyone like a book with no effort at all), was thankfully a little too distracted to notice Richie’s own pink cheeks and ears.

Richie finally managed to tug his socks off, throwing them somewhere else in the room. They could find them later. He made sure his grip wrapped around Eddie’s legs was properly tight before gathering up Eddie’s big toes in one hand. The other started spidering gently over Eddie’s heels, making him tumble into giggles just like when they were kids.

“You know, Eds, you haven’t changed one bit.”

“Shut the fuck up!” Eddie yelled through his giggles, the pink spreading down his ears and into his cheeks at the sound of himself.

His giggles weren’t as sweet and childish as they once were. They were deeper now, and less bright, but they were bubbly as ever and no less beautiful. Richie felt his own blush spread down his neck and he hoped Eddie didn’t notice that, either. Well, embarrassing Eddie had always been a great way of distracting him, before.

“You’re as adorable as ever, Spaghetti!” Richie said, wiggling his fingers just a tad higher so they just barely reached the bottom of his arches. “Ticklish as ever, too.”

Eddie shrieked and tried to scrunch his feet as Richie moved higher, but Richie kept his grip tight enough that he had no success. Slowly, he started inching his fingers even higher, moving towards Eddie’s toes. If he remembered correctly, this spot would get Eddie to scream.

“You know, Eddie,” Richie said conversationally, raising his voice to talk over Eddie’s laughter, “If you told me to stop, I would.”

“I did!” Eddie said.

“No you haven’t,” Richie replied at the exact same time as Bill, who Richie hadn’t even heard come back in the room.

Richie jumped, his tickling faltered for a moment, shooting a glare over at Bill.

“Fuck off,” he and Eddie said in unision. 

Bill raised his hands in surrender and left the room, muttering something about “weird flirting rituals.”

Well, fuck you, Billiam, because Richie was sure as hell not flirting, no sir.

He was just… tickling the shit out of the guy he’d been hopelessly in love with since he was eleven. It was no big deal. Just two bros being dudes.

Richie turned his evil grin back on Eddie once Bill had gone. “Last chance to stop this,” he said.

“Fuck you,” Eddie snapped, his blush going from pink to red.

Richie’s smile widened. It wasn’t anywhere near a “stop.”

He immediately started scratching his nails beneath Eddie’s toes, keeping his touch soft and gentle to start. It still had Eddie screaming in seconds, struggling desperately to pull his feet from Richie’s grasp.

“Asshole!” Eddie gasped through his laughter.

“That’s still not telling me to stop,” Richie said in a sing-song voice.

“Please! Rich!”

“That is also not telling me to stop. Are you sure you hate this as much as you pretend to?”

“Fuck!”

Richie cackled as Eddie thrashed around on the couch. He wiggled his fingers at the skin under his toes, twisted his fingers between them, and even scratched at the stems. The whole time, Eddie was going ballistic, tears of laughter building up in his eyes. Even through all this, he still hadn’t told Richie to stop. Richie was starting to wonder if he was going too far.

Then, Eddie started sitting up. Richie tried the same trick from when they were kids, using one of his feet to push at Eddie’s chest so he couldn’t reach Richie’s hands. The only issue was, Eddie was a lot stronger than when they were kids. He wasn’t that tiny little boy anymore, riddled with false illnesses, afraid he was as breakable as glass. He was still tiny, sure, but he was strong. Eddie worked out now (which Richie definitely appreciated, not that he would ever admit it).

Even weakened with his howling cackles, Eddie still managed to push his way up. His eyes were glowing with mirth, his face was bright and open with his unrepentant smile, and his cheeks were rosy and healthy. Richie couldn’t help the way his fingers faltered at the sight.

It was all the opening Eddie needed. His grin went from bubbly to feral in milliseconds and he tugged his feet out from Richie’s grip without any effort at all. Richie quickly realized that those were runner’s legs, because Eddie worked out, and that Eddie had been holding back that whole fucking time.

Richie had two epiphanies at once. One, Eddie had been letting Richie tickle him, he wanted it, and that set off all sorts of butterflies in his chest and stomach. Two, Richie was absolutely and totally fucked, which set off a whole different brand of butterflies.

“Eds-- Eddie, let’s talk about this--”

Eddie’s grin widened. “Don’t call me Eds.”

Then, Eddie lunged. Richie made a very embarrassing sounding yelp, that he very much hoped Eddie would keep to himself, and tried to scramble back over the arm of the couch. He failed, obviously, seeing as the only working out he’d ever done in his life was running from the clown and Bowers, and Eddie could probably run a marathon and not break a sweat.

Richie quickly found himself pinned underneath Eddie, Eddie’s weight straddling his thighs. Richie’s hands were still free, but he’d never been especially coordinated, and it only got worse with even the threat of being tickled.

Probably because of some subconscious desire of his to have wiggling fingers dig into every sensitive spot he has. Not that he’d ever admit any sort of desire out loud.

“Since you so mercilessly went for such a bad spot--”

“You were kicking me--!”

“-- I think I’ll return the favor.”

“Wait,” Richie cried, but it was pretty unconvincing given the giddy smile on his face. “Eddie, wait, no!”

Eddie took on a patronizing voice. “All you have to say is ‘stop.’”

That was totally unfair. Richie said “stop” when being tickled about as much as Eddie did, which was almost never.

Richie wasn’t given much time to think about that, however, because Eddie wasted no more time in digging into his hips. Which, even more unfair in Richie’s opinion, going for a death spot so soon, when Richie worked his way up to Eddie’s toes. 

He jumped and bucked as Eddie squeezed at his hips, which quickly turned to squealing and attempting to curl up when Eddie started scratching at the bones. Eddie’s nails, unsurprisingly, were a lot better manicured than Richie’s own, which meant they tickled like fuck. Richie felt like he was going to crawl out of his skin in the best of ways, and he chose to cover his flushing face with his hands instead of trying to shove Eddie off.

“Eds, please!”

Eddie hummed. “Mm, no. Tell me to stop, Rich.”

Richie wailed in ticklish embarrassment, now blushing for a completely different reason than Eddie being the cutest man on the planet. Now, he was fucking hot, all in control and making Richie lose his mind and shit, and he couldn’t even enjoy it because, as he said, he was losing his mind.

Well, he was blushing from that and the exertion of his laughter. Hopefully one could disguise the other.

“Cute cute cute,” Eddie said in a nasally, high-pitched voice, probably meant to mimic child-Richie.

Richie had a lot of things he wanted to say to that, not the least of which was a heartfelt love confession thanks to the object of his affections calling him fucking cute, but he went with a safer option instead.

“You’re shit at that!” He cried through his laughter.

Eddie’s tickling paused and Richie sucked in a few deep breaths, eyeing him warily. Eddie raised an eyebrow.

“I don’t think you’re in a position to fucking insult me right now.”

Oh shit.

Eddie shoved Richie’s shirt up and shimmied his jeans a little lower on his hips, sending all sorts of weird, conflicting messages through Richie’s brain. Then, while Richie was still trying to process that shit, Eddie ducked his head down and Richie lost all the breath he had regained.

He was shocked out of his stupor by the most torturous raspberry ever given in the history of mankind being blown against the dip of his hip. Richie was certain it was the loudest he had ever yelled, which was saying something because Richie was loud. He couldn’t gain enough control over his arms to do much more than grip Eddie’s hair. He didn’t bother trying to pull or push him away, he just held on for dear life as Eddie systematically destroyed him.

Richie howled and cackled and screamed, and Richie was glad that Bill was the only other one in the house because he really did not need every single Loser hearing him make these noises. Sure, they heard it echo in the clubhouse when they were kids, but Richie was an adult now and had to maintain some semblance of control and maturity.

Then again, Bill would probably spread this around like wildfire.

Just when Richie thought he’d reached peak ticklishness, Eddie somehow led him to an all new peak. Richie’s screams went silent as Eddie gently dragged his teeth against one of his hipbones. Ticklish sparks shot straight up Richie’s spine, too ticklishly keyed up to realize how fucking hot that was, and he bucked up with a strength he didn’t know he possessed. The two of them landed in a heap on the floor.

Richie landed on top of Eddie, whose legs wound up wrapped around his waist. Richie held himself up on his forearms, resting on the rug on either side of Eddie’s head. Richie was still panting for breath, the wide, tickle-induced smile still stretched across his face and a blush still travelling from his ears to his neck. Eddie was grinning up at him, the pink flush spreading through his cheeks once more.

Richie wasn’t sure who moved first. All he knew was that suddenly, they were kissing. They were both smiling too wide for it to be a particularly effective kiss, but it still sent magical sparks zinging through Richie’s chest. If this was how all of their tickle fights were going to end from now on, Richie was going to have to start them more often.

“Fuck,” Richie whispered when they pulled back.

Eddie pressed their foreheads together with a chuckle. “I guess that’s one way to do it.”

“You know,” Richie said, still whispering. “I only tickled you so much when we were kids because you were fucking adorable when I did, and I was practically in love with you.”

Eddie locked eyes with him.

“I don’t think you hated it as much as you pretended to, though,” Richie finished with a grin.

“Fuck you,” Eddie snapped, but there was no heat to it. “And now?”

“Now?”

“Why start a tickle fight now?”

Richie grinned. “Well, Eds--”

“Fuck you!”

“-- I gotta say, the years didn’t make you any less adorable.”

“Yeah?” Eddie whispered, and Richie felt Eddie’s legs tighten around his waist.

“Yeah.” And then, because Richie couldn’t be serious for more than two minutes at a time, he said, “Still not as cute as your mom, though.”

Eddie groaned, slapping his shoulder. “Beep beep, you fucking asshole. I thought we were having a moment.”

Richie raised his eyebrows. “We could have another, if you want.”

One of Eddie’s hands came up to thread through the hair at the nape of Richie’s neck. Just as he started to tug Richie down, just as their lips started to brush, there was a snort from the doorway that had them jumping apart. Richie barely avoided clunking his head against the end table as he sprang away from Eddie.

“Finally,” Bill said. “B-B-Bev owes me fifty d-dollars.”

“Fuck off!” He and Eddie shouted in unison. 

Bill laughed and raised his hands in surrender, leaving the room again. “D-don’t christen your n-n-new relationship on my rug.”

Richie scowled at Bill’s back until he was out of sight. Then, he turned his gaze back towards Eddie, who was already crawling towards him again.

“Wanna make out until the rest of the group gets here?” Eddie said with a grin.

Richie grinned back. “Only if I get to tickle you and you laugh into my mouth.”

Eddie laughed, already pulling Richie closer. “You’re so fucking weird.”

“You love it.”

Eddie sighed. “Unfortunately, I love you. Obnoxious as you are.”

Richie could barely stop smiling for long enough to press his lips to Eddie’s. Eddie shoved him back onto the floor, landing on top himself this time. Richie did end up skittering his fingers up and down Eddie’s sides and ribs, tasting the giggles that Eddie let out into his mouth. Eddie wasted no time in returning the favor, either, dragging his blunt nails across Richie’s skin to get him giggling against Eddie’s lips.

It was by far the best make-out session Richie had ever had. Partially from the tickling, Richie would never complain about that, but mostly because it was Eddie. Whenever the rest of the Loser’s arrived, they would be pretty hard-pressed to get Richie to stop kissing Eddie for even a moment. They had a lot of lost time to make up for.

#tickle fic #My writing #it tickling #lee!eddie #ler!richie #ticklish!eddie #lee!richie #ler!eddie #ticklish!richie #it movies #eddie kaspbrack #richie tozier #reddie

[nugnthopkns]

it all pours out after dark

word count: 5.8k

warnings: insinuated!fem reader, cursing, mentions of alcohol (but no consumption), expressions of self doubt

recommended listening: the knife | maggie rogers

series masterpost: here

a/n: first installment of hiiapl!! very excited about what’s to come. here is some bffs/roommates to lovers with petey :))

Elias’s friendship was a welcome surprise.

You hadn’t expected much when you met the Swede – after all, you were serving at the annual Canucks charity gala and he was the rookie poised to win the Calder trophy. There were a million other things you would have rather done than spend a Saturday evening walking around in sky high stilettos and passing out flutes of champagne, but the catering company paid generously, and you needed to come up with the funds for your next tuition installment. Vancouver may be beautiful, but it’s incredibly expensive.

So you spent the night with a kilowatt smile plastered on your face, staying silent in the background and making sure no one’s glasses were ever empty. You were barely legal to handle alcohol, freshly nineteen and waiting for an opportunity to experience the city’s nightlife for yourself. There was no way you should be regulating the alcohol consumption of adults but you were doing it anyways. The tips were very generous, more than you should have probably been receiving, but you accepted them with a smile because the athletes making millions could certainly afford it.

No one paid you any attention, but you didn’t mind. The night was beginning to wear on you and the event didn’t plan on stopping for another couple of hours. You debated on what to do with your tray while you tried to work out the knots that were forming in feet from standing for so long.

“Let me hold that for you,” a gentle voice sounded from behind you.

When you turned around you were face to face with Elias Pettersson. “That won’t be necessary,” you stated, tone kind but firm. If your supervisor caught you, you would have been fired immediately.

He didn’t take no for an answer. “Please,” he urged, thick accent ringing out in the space between you. “Your feet are going to cramp. Take your shoes off for two minutes.” The English was broken, but you appreciated the sentiment. He really wanted to help.

After a little more insisting from the blonde you agreed, and he diligently stood watch to ensure you wouldn’t get in trouble. It was a relief to be out of the torturous constraint of your shoes for a few moments, and you thanked him profusely.

“Don’t worry about it,” he said, a small smile on his face. Shouting erupted from some other players then, looking for him.

“You better get back before they miss you too much.” You nodded in the direction of the voices, to which he begrudgingly agreed. Elias handed you back the tray of champagne flutes before taking one for himself.

He was about to fade into the crowd when he turned to face you again. “I never caught your name,” he stated.

“It’s Y/N.”

“Elias.”

With that he disappeared into the throng of people. You never expected to hear from him again, chalking it up to a kind interaction with a stranger, but a day later he had messaged you on Instagram after searching through the countless profiles that shared your name and were located in the general Vancouver area. Conversation flowed easily between the two of you, and you became fast friends.

☼☼☼☼

That first meeting was nearly four years ago, and countless memories had been made since then. You treasure your friendship with Elias, and truthfully it’s the one you hold closest to your heart. This could be because over the years you’ve developed a small crush on the lanky blonde, but it’s a secret you’ll take to the grave. No one knows of your true feelings for Elias, and no one ever will.

“E? I’m home,” you shout into the quiet apartment, wondering if he’s home from morning skate yet.

After you completed your undergraduate degree and your lease ended, Elias insisted you move into his spare bedroom. The offer was too tempting to resist – you got to live with your best friend and continue your education in a city you adore. Moving your stuff had been a bit of a pain, but your life fit seamlessly into Elias’s. The two of you worked well as roommates, and over the past few months the space began to reflect not just Elias, but you as well. Hair ties were randomly thrown on counters and the bookshelves began to fill.

You’re setting the few groceries you picked up from the local market on the counter when he comes down the hall.

“Hi sunshine,” Elias says softly, voice riddled with sleep. He must have returned home earlier than you thought and had a quick nap.

You smile at the nickname. Elias had gifted it to you early in your friendship when you were in a terrible mood. He had meant it sarcastically at first, but it stuck. Now he hardly calls you by your name.

“How was practice?”

“Really tough,” he admits, moving behind you to place the apples in the fridge. “Coach is being hard on us because we aren’t performing well.”

You frown but hold your tongue. Your degree in sports psychology tells you that isn’t the way to improve players’ morale, but Elias doesn’t like it when you lecture him on what the Canucks staff are doing wrong. He knows things aren’t perfect within the organization and hopes desperately the situation will improve when they start winning again.

The two of you put the rest of the food away in comfortable silence and then unwind by watching numerous episodes of House. You had recently decided to give the medical drama a rewatch, and Elias’s interest was piqued by the snarky physician who always saves the day. It’s become your favourite way to relax and it seems that both of you need it today.

“How does Wilson do it?”

You’re perplexed. “Do what?”

“Put up with House,” Elias sighs. “He’s an asshole.”

Laughter tumbles from your lips. “The same way I deal with you, grumpy.”

“No,” he scoffs, tossing a pillow in your general direction. “You’re House and I’m Wilson, sunshine. Being an asshole is how you got that nickname in the first place.”

You couldn’t argue with Elias’s point – he was right. Between the two of you, you’re the one most likely to be snarky with your anger and he’s more likely to shut himself off from the rest of the world. “Fuck off,” you giggle. 

When Elias crawls on top of you and drops his weight you don’t flinch. You’ve become accustomed to his casual yet spontaneous displays of physical touch, and by now the two of you can frequently be found with your limbs tangled together. 

The rest of your afternoon passes in the blink of an eye. You fall asleep a few episodes in, and you assume Elias did as well because when you wake up his body is still pressed against yours. Once your eyes adjust to being awake, you notice it’s well into the evening. Your stomach rumbles and you decide you have to get up. 

“E,” you say softly, not wanting to completely disrupt his rest. The season is off to a rougher start than everyone hoped for, and he hasn’t been sleeping well. 

There’s no response from the boy on top of you so you try again, voice a decibel or two louder. “Elias, please let me up. I’ve gotta start dinner.”

“Mhmm,” Elias murmurs, not opening his eyes. “Or you could just stay here. You’re so warm.”

You roll your eyes. “Dude, we’ve got to eat. Come on.”

He doesn’t move. In fact, he presses more weight on you, effectively trapping you on the couch. “We can just order food in a bit,” Elias suggests. “Please just stay and nap a bit longer.”

That’s all it takes to convince you, and you let your eyes flutter shut again. In the comfort of your best friend sleep comes easy, and neither of you move far from the couch for the rest of the night. 

The next few days are incredibly busy, and you don’t see Elias much. School is heating up and you’re struggling to stay afloat. In an effort to get the team to put up a few wins, the Canucks organization is holding extra practices and development workshops in between games, so Elias is barely home. When he is he’s exhausted and spends most of his free time in his room, chatting with friends at home or playing video games. 

You do your best to not let the distance bother you, but not being able to have a conversation that lasts more than fifteen minutes before one of you is running out the door is wearing you down. You miss your best friend. 

Elias is set to go out with some of the younger guys on the team this evening, and though he invited you, you’re in a graduate student society meeting until well after they’re supposed to be leaving. He deserves the time to unwind, but a part of you is jealous he actually gets it. Both of you have been running around like chickens with your heads cut off and it seems like Elias can finally slow down. You on the other hand cannot. 

Approximately twelve million things go wrong throughout the course of the day. First, you left your lunch and wallet at home, leaving you unable to eat. Then your advisor was late to your meeting and insisted it was your fault. To top everything off, the graduate student society dismissed your proposal for more funding into public outreach programs. You really, really wanted to be at home.

The door to the apartment is unlocked upon your arrival home, which you find strange. Elias isn’t one to forget to lock it on his way out the door. Brock was terrible about remembering that sort of thing, so you assume he was the last one out. You open it with a sigh and kick off your sneakers. It has been a long day, and you’re looking forward to opening the bottle of wine you picked up with groceries last week.

It doesn’t dawn on you that Elias’s shoes are still by the door or that the living room light is on. You’re so preoccupied with getting comfortable you don’t realize you aren’t alone until you hear a voice from down the hall. 

“Rough day sunshine?”

Elias is standing at the end of the hallway, staring at you intently. It’s as if he can sense the tension rolling off your shoulders. 

“Yeah,” you sigh. “I thought you were going out with the guys?”

He just shrugs. “Didn’t really feel like it. Besides, I knew you were having an off day because you didn’t text me on your lunch break so I wanted to be here for you.”

You nearly tear up from his words. Elias is a lot of things, and kindhearted is certainly one of them. “Go have a shower,” he insists, “And I’ll start dinner.”

“Thanks E.”

A hand comes up to ruffle your hair on his way by. “Don’t mention it.”

The two of you spend the night tucked against each other, eating pasta and telling stories. You never make it to the fridge to get that bottle of wine, but you don’t mind because during your shower Elias made hot chocolate for you both. Conversation flows into the early morning, and by the time you head to bed you can’t remember why you were upset in the first place. 

☼☼☼☼

The season drags on. The Canucks still aren’t playing well, and it’s beginning to wear on Elias. He’s spending more time in his room, reviewing tape and tweaking his workout regime to achieve maximum results. You worry he’s beginning to isolate himself and that it won’t be good for his mental health. 

“Do you want to go hiking tomorrow?” you ask him at dinner. The team has a rare day off, and the coaching staff want them to decompress before leaving on a long road trip. 

Elias shrugs, not looking up at you as he continues to cut his vegetables. “Not really sunshine. I have some clips I need to watch.”

You sigh loud enough to make him feel bad, and his eyes meet yours. “E, you need a break. Let’s go to that trail you like and just relax for a while. I’ll pack a lunch and we can just go slow.”

Whether or not he’s just appeasing you or genuinely wants to go you aren’t sure, but Elias agrees. He places a hand on your shoulder in silent thanks before loading his plate into the dishwasher and retreating to his bedroom. You take it as a victory, however small, and are glad he didn’t completely shut down the idea. The rest of the night is quiet, with you finishing a book and falling asleep on the couch. 

Neither of you are quick to rise in the morning but it doesn’t matter. There’s no timeline for your upcoming adventure so long as you’re back before dark. You make it to the kitchen before Elias and take it upon yourself to make breakfast for the two of you. It’s nothing fancy, just oatmeal, but your best friend appreciates it when he finally makes an appearance. Elias looks like he slept for a maximum of three hours, and you have half a mind to tell him you’ll take a rain cheque, but you know he needs a change of pace. 

The two of you chat idly throughout the meal but it isn’t tense or awkward. Neither of you are completely awake, and both like time to reflect in the morning. It’s nearly an hour later when you meet Elias at the door. You grab your keys, much to his surprise. 

“What?” you shrug.

Elias cocks a brow in your direction. “You hate driving on the highway.”

He’s right – you have no issues navigating the traffic riddled streets of Vancouver, but as soon as you get out of the city and onto the freeway you freeze up. 

“Gotta get over my fear at some point. Come on superstar.”

There’s no complaint from Elias, and you suspect he’s secretly relieved. Driving isn’t his strong suit either but you know he does it so you don’t have to. The ride is quiet, and once you hit the city limits the car feels lighter, as though Elias left all his stress behind. Some lo-fi playlist trickles through the speakers as you get closer to your destination. It isn’t your kind of music, or Elias’s for that matter, and you’re pretty sure Brock gave him the link. The parking lot is empty when you arrive, and you back into a spot with ease. 

Usually Elias would comment on your driving quirk, teasing you because ‘no one under the age of sixty-five backs into a parking space’, but he’s quiet. You wonder if he even noticed. Nerves about the possibility of a far-away look in Elias’s eyes subside when he scrambles to get out of the car. 

“First one to the top wins,” he shouts, metres ahead of you as you double check to make sure the car is locked. You let out a full laugh but don’t try to catch up – he’s going to win anyway so you might as well enjoy yourself. 

The hike does wonder for Elias. Just being outside, in the fresh air that doesn’t hold any expectation of who he should be, is enough to lighten his mood considerably. You trail behind him the entire time, allowing yourself to marvel at his beauty from afar. The longer you live with Elias, the harder it’s becoming to mask your feelings. A couple of times he pauses to wait for you to catch up, and once at the top of the small summit he lifts you into the air in triumph.

“Alright E, put me down,” you giggle, squirming out of his grip. He obliges and places you back onto the rocky surface as though his previous act was the easiest thing in the world. 

The two of you marvel at the view from the top of the mountain for a bit longer before making the trek back down to the car. Halfway down the trail you fall behind significantly, exhausted from not only hiking up a mountain, but worrying about Elias and stressing over some school deadlines that are rapidly approaching. Elias slows his steps so you can catch up, and insists you jump up to piggy-back the rest of the way. You try to protest but he isn’t having it. Eventually you give in and doze off with your face tucked into the crook of his neck. 

You let Elias drive home, too worn out to think about the traffic you’ll inevitably hit. When you get home you allow him to tuck you into bed, and don’t tease him when presses a kiss to the crown of your head. 

The road trip both flies by and drags on. At home, you're busy with school, work, and taking care of Brock’s dogs. Coolie and Milo have become a welcome responsibility, and truthfully you love having them around. They make the absence of Elias less apparent. Each night you curl up on the couch, a dog on either side, and watch the game intently. The Canucks seem to be on the up, winning the first three games with ease. It’s like something has clicked between them and on-ice communication is no longer a problem. However, that changes quickly, and they lose the entire back half of the trip. 

You do your best to comfort Elias from afar – sending him periodic text messages of encouragement, random memes you find on instagram, and calling after every game. The streak of misfortune is getting to him, and it’s beginning to affect his play. He adds only one point the entire trip, an assist that didn’t matter in the grand scheme of things since they were blown out of the water. When you talk to him it’s easy to hear how upset he is, and you imagine he’s hearing a lot worse than what you’re telling him from the coaching staff. It makes your blood boil – how they’re treating him – but you’re helpless. Nothing you can say will undo the potential damage. 

The Canucks get back late, and you’re tucked into bed with the dogs, nearly asleep. You’ll return Brock’ pets in the morning. If you hadn’t had a disastrous meeting with your advisor you would’ve met them at the airport, seeing as it’s Friday and you often don’t go to bed until well into the morning, but your body is thoroughly exhausted. 

You don’t hear the door open and are only alerted to a new presence because the dogs perk their ears. Footsteps echo through the silent apartment, and you think you can hear Elias grumbling in Swedish. He makes no attempt to find you so you assume he thinks you’re sleeping. You should be. Up until three minutes ago you were on the verge of sleep, but now you wait with baited breath to see if you can hear any indicators to Elias’s mood. 

A door closes and seconds later the shower turns on, so you assume he’s feeling alright. Most certainly not great, but well enough to maintain his normal routine. You don’t try to move, knowing you’ll talk to him in the morning, and finally allow yourself to commit to sleep. There’s a few minutes of bliss where you’re almost unconscious, but your slumber is disrupted by a quiet knock at your door.

“Sunshine?”

Elias’s voice sounds like a different type of exhaustion that you’ve never heard, and you know right then that you won’t deny him entry to your room.

“I’m awake E,” you mumble, praying he can hear you because you spoke so softly. The door creaks open and you can just make out his facial features in the dark.

Standing tentatively in the doorway, Elias looks at you with tear-rimmed eyes. “Y/N, I think I’m going to get benched.”

☼☼☼☼

His suspicions were, unfortunately, right. The decision to bench Elias had apparently been made on the plane ride home, but he wasn’t informed until the team meeting after practice the next morning. You knew something bad had happened because when he came home there was no conversation. He slipped through the door like a ghost and disappeared into his room. You knew better than to go after him right away – Elias is the type of person who needs to process his emotions alone before sharing them with others.

You busy yourself with editing the chunk of your thesis proposal that has occupied your brain for the past few weeks. It’s getting closer to the end of your first year of graduate school, and you need to get approval for your topic soon. You hope to research the effects of locker room speech on athletes’ mental health. The focus group will be the Vancouver Whitecaps, and you’re excited to work with them. Your advisor has some personal connections and pulled a few strings to get you the gig and you’re extremely thankful.

An hour or two passes before Elias pads his way into the main living area. Wordlessly he flops onto the couch and holds his arms up in the air. You can read Elias like a book – you know he wants you to stop working and lie on top of him. The action brings him comfort, which he desperately needs in this moment, so you don’t have an issue with it. On your way over you grab a banana from the fruit bowl and offer it to him. He takes it, but sets it gently on the coffee table.

Once you’re settled, Elias wraps his arms around your body, holding you to him like he’s scared you’ll slip through his fingers otherwise. You absentmindedly trace patterns on his forearms for a while, letting the silence soothe him.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

It’s a shot in the dark, you know, but you try anyway. Elias doesn’t answer, instead asking you what you did while he was gone. You indulge him, knowing it’s the only way to take his mind off the heartache, and narrate the menial chores you did in painstaking detail. It seems to help, and eventually Elias brings his own anecdotes into the conversation, telling you something dumb Brock had whispered in his ear at practice.

Eventually Elias has to get ready to go to the rink. Though he isn’t playing he’s expected to be there, dressed sharply and watching from the press box. You help him as best you can – ironing his favourite tie and filling his lucky mug with just the right amount of coffee.

He gives you a short hug in thanks before bending down to tie his dress shoes.

“Are you sure you don’t want me to come?” you ask. “I can easily get a press pass and we could sit together.”

Elias shakes his head. “You have work to get done. I’ll be fine sunshine,” he says, doing his best to convince himself along with you that everything will be alright.

You watch him open the door and gingerly blow him a kiss as he turns to wave goodbye. It’s a silly ritual the two of you started a few years ago, before you’d moved in with Elias. He insisted you spend time with him before each home game, which meant you wound up cooking dinner and making sure he drank enough water. To annoy him you started blowing him kisses as he left, and the tradition continued once his place became yours. Elias catches it with his left hand and blows one back.

Not much work gets done while Elias is gone. You’re too worried about him to focus on your proposal and end up with your eyes glued to the television as you watch the game. The Canucks desperately need a win, something you hope they can get so your best friend can be put back into the lineup. Your eyes zero on Elias every time the camera pans to him sitting in the rafters, and your heart breaks each time you see the defeated look in his eyes. It seems to have worsened since he left home.

The game does not go well for the Canucks. It’s as if the team isn’t communicating with one another on the ice, and a lot of passes don’t connect. Shots aren’t on goal either – you know Elias is fuming from within the press box. He feels responsible for the team’s deterioration even though he isn’t playing. You watch the rest of the game with furrowed brows and think of ways you could support Elias. 

After sharing a space with him for almost an entire trip around the sun, you know Elias doesn’t like ‘grand’ gestures. He’ll hate if you draw him a bath, and besides, that’s not something roommates or best friends do for each other. That’s strictly reserved for romantic partners – something you’re sure you will never be to Elias. Ordering food is out of the question because he refuses to eat after nine-thirty, and sure it’ll be past ten before he walks through the door. You settle on warming up his favourite blanket in the dryer and making the both of you a cup of tea. If he wants to take them into his room to spend time alone and decompress that will be okay with you. 

Your phone chimes from its resting place on the kitchen counter. Wondering if it’s a friend wanting an explanation to Elias’s absence from the game, you grumble on your way to the device. The notification is from Elias himself, and you open it with baited breath. You know he’s devastated and pray he’s only letting you know he’s on his way home, not sharing bad news. 

Heading out now. Probably going to get stuck in traffic, got any sad song recommendations?

The message makes your heart break, but you respond with a playlist link that features your favourite songs to cry to. A short message is tacked on to the end to let him know you’re always ready to support him. 

Hopefully this fits the mood. I’m here for you. 

Elias’s response fills you with a small bit of hope. 

I know.

You set your plan into motion, and finish pouring the boiling tea into your favourite mugs as the door opens. 

“Hey,” you say tentatively, not sure what Elias’s mood will be like now that he doesn’t have to have his guard up. “I made you a cup of tea and there’s a blanket in the dryer that should still be pretty warm.”

“Thank you,” he mumbles, but it doesn’t make his words any less sincere. You can tell Elias is drained in every sense of the word by looking at him, and you decide you aren’t going to push him to talk tonight. The communication can come a bit later. 

The blonde trudges down the hallway to the small room where you keep the laundry and reappears moments later wrapped in the plush navy blanket you had prepared for him. Elias doesn’t even bother to change, too exhausted to get out of his suit. You blow some of the steam away from his mug before picking it up and padding over to where he’s sitting on the couch. Elias takes the mug gratefully, and tries to smile at you in thanks. It comes out more like a grimace. 

It’s silent as the two of you sit side by side, staring out the large window at Vancouver’s skyline. The absence of noise isn’t as unsettling as you feared but it still puts you on edge. You can tell Elias’s emotions are beginning to boil over, and you aren’t sure what to do about it. 

“It’s my fault,” he says, voice small and fragile. 

When you turn your head to see him, you’re met with two ice blue eyes brimming with tears. Your heart breaks for what feels like the hundredth time that night. “Elias, listen to me,” you urge, grasping his hands in yours. “The game wasn’t your fault. You not being on the ice did not cause the team to lose.”

Elias scoffs and rolls his eyes. For a split-second, hurt seeps into your bones, but you dispel it because you know he’s upset and didn’t mean to be so abrasive. 

“Not the game!” he shouts, anger clearly winning the mental battle of what emotion to present. “The entire fucking season. We’ve played like shit all year and it’s my fucking fault.”

“Elias,” you say as calmly as possible, knowing it’s important for one of you to be rational. “You’ve consistently put up points all season, and you’re only going through a short dry spell. You pick up the slack where needed and try your hardest to succeed. You’re a damn good teammate and the best hockey player I know. Please don’t be so hard on yourself.”

It’s then he breaks, collapsing into your wide open arms and sobbing. You hold him close to your chest, afraid that if you let him go he’ll disappear in front of your eyes. The sounds of his ragged breathing and your gentle encouragement bounce off the walls until all you can focus on is his heart rate returning to something in the ballpark of normal. Elias cries for an unknown amount of time and you don’t even bother to calculate it. He needed to let everything go – hopefully he can now turn the page on the past couple of months. 

When he seems like he’ll respond again, you speak. “I know they put a lot of pressure on you, and I know that you’re a professional athlete, but what they’re doing to you isn’t right. E, you don’t deserve to feel like this, regardless of how you’re playing or where the team is in the standings.”

“I just don’t know what to do,” Elias hiccups. “Everything has become a lot lately, and it keeps piling up. It’s affecting my play, and I just want the team to be successful. I want to be successful.”

You wrap your arms around him tighter and card your hands through his hair. “You are successful, and don’t you dare let anyone tell you otherwise. I’m always available to talk, but if you’d like I can book you an appointment at the clinic and you can talk to someone who’s actually qualified.”

“You’re so close to being fully qualified,” he encourages, always wanting to make sure you matter too. “But that would be really nice. Thank you.”

“Don’t sweat it.”

That phrase had first confused Elias when you first directed it towards him, but he now understands it’s your way of saying ‘Of course. I’d do anything for you’. You rarely use the phrase with anyone else, and it makes him feel special inside. 

Eventually you untangle your limbs from Elias’s, getting up to refill your mugs and insisting he change into clothing that’s more comfortable. He’s gone a lot longer from the couch than you are, and you begin to worry he won’t be reappearing. The creaking of a hinge wrangles you free from your thoughts. Elias pads back into the living room, dressed in a pair of ridiculously patterned pyjamas you had bought him two Christmases ago. 

“Hey,” he practically whispers. “Can I tell you something?”

You do your best to keep the alarm you feel from appearing on your face. After the conversation you just had, his mind could be going in a million different directions. “Always,” you reply, volume matching his. 

“If it weren’t for you, I don’t know if I’d still be playing hockey.” You make a sound of protest, but Elias doesn’t let you form it into a thought. “I’m dead serious. The night we met? I was a wreck. Sure, I was in the middle of a rookie season most players dream of, but I was so miserable. I cried every night on the way home from the rink and felt completely alone. You were the first person in Vancouver that didn’t expect anything of me, that still doesn’t. I’m so fucking thankful for you. I love you.”

Tears flow freely from your eyes and you raise the sleeve of your sweater to wipe them away. Elias isn’t one for heartfelt confessions – that’s much more your style. He shows his appreciation through random acts of kindness, so you deeply treasure his words. 

“I love you too E.”

He shakes his head. “You don’t understand,” he insists. “I really love you. I don’t mean it platonically, and I never have.”

You’re sufficiently shocked. “Don’t say something you don’t mean,” you mumble, pushing off the couch to go hide in your room. 

It’s Elias’s turn to grab your hand. His grip is gentle but still firm enough to let you know he isn’t going to drop the conversation. 

“Why wouldn’t I mean it?”

“Because,” you sigh, “You’re Elias fucking Pettersson. You’re the star centre of an NHL team and there’s a million other people better suited for you than me! Sure, I might be head over heels for you but we aren’t on the same level. I’m your best friend E, and that’s okay. I can live with that. What I can’t live with is you letting emotion get the better of you and confessing something that isn’t true. You’re grateful for my support, and I think we should just leave it at that.”

He shakes his head fervently. “This isn’t a spur of the moment decision Y/N,” Elias says. “I’ve been debating telling you for months, but the season kind of derailed my plans and got in the way. I love you.”

Before you can process the gravity of his words, Elias is pressing his lips to yours in an effort to show just how sincere he is. You falter for a split-second, shocked that this isn’t a dream – your best friend, who you’ve had a crush on for years, is in love with you and you’re in the process of kissing him – but you recover quickly. Kissing Elias feels like a long awaited homecoming. It’s as though you’ve found true peace, and nothing will ever be as good as your lips connecting. You lose yourself in him quite easily, and only focus to your surroundings when he pulls away to look in your eyes.

“So,” Elias sheepishly tucks a misplaced strand of hair behind your ear. “Think I could take you out, like on an actual date?”

You beam at him, leaning forward to place a chaste kiss to his lips. “That can most certainly be arranged.”

☼☼☼☼

taglist: @jamiedrysdales @kiedhara @tortito @boqvistsbabe @iwantahockeyhimbo​ if you want to be added just shoot me an ask :)

#god i want to be petey's roommate turned lover so bad #elias pettersson imagine #elias pettersson x reader #elias pettersson fic #vancouver canucks imagine #hockey imagine #hockey fic #nhl imagine #nhl fic #cwrites #hiiapl

[hasquetzorkukudoneanythingwrong]

Codex Chaldeas: what wonderful news

On this very special day, one of the masters of Chaldea had proposed to his beloved goddess. Rex had pulled out a ring of shining gold with green gems on it to pop the question to Quetzalcoatl. She answered with a resounding “Yes!” — so the two immediately wanted to share the news with their friends in ChaldeaAfter bringing their new friend to Da Vinci's workshop for them to get started on wedding plans, the couple were on their way to share the news of their wedding to two very special friends.

"Where do you think those two would be?" Quetz asked Rex, wondering as to where the other masters may be at the very moment, her finger on her chin while she thought about the question.

Rex had thought for a bit on that question, wondering where either one of them could be at the moment. Then Rex had remembered something concerning about one of them. "Well... I was out for a while. So Vy probably overworked herself to make up the difference in workload...." his voice trailed off on that statement, worry clear in his voice. "Since that's no longer an issue, there's a good chance she's finally resting in her room," was the conclusion Rex had come to.

Quetz's face then matched Rex's when she realized how right he likely was. "That makes sense, I think I overheard Da Vinci mentioning something like that while I stayed by your side." She then looked down towards the ground a bit with concern on her face. "So it makes sense for her to be there..."

Rex then took Quetz's hand, trying to help her relax a bit. "Let's go there quietly, and maybe we can catch her awake to share the news?" Rex offered to Quetz, knowing how excited she was about sharing the news.

Quetz smiled a little more before responding with, "Si, that does sound good! Hopefully we can catch her still awake!" With that said, they turned in the direction of where Vy's room would be and started down the hall.

They reached the room, gently knocking on the door so they wouldn’t be rude. Then Robin let them in while saying, "Ok, try to stay quiet. Lil Sparrow's taking her daily nap." It took Robin saying it that Rex and Quetz noticed Vy seemingly sound asleep. After that, they both nodded to assure him they'll be quiet. “Well, you two are finally out of that room. To what do we owe the pleasure of this visit?” Robin asked, keeping his voice low to not wake Vy up.

Rex started awkwardly to say, "Well, actually... There was some news we wanted to share with the two of you." His hands rubbed against each other as he tried to let the words come out of his throat. "But if she's asleep, then we can come back later..." He let the statement linger in the air while stepping back to grab the door behind him to close it. 

Quetz shuffled awkwardly behind Rex, a quiet mutter of, “Sorry we disturbed you,” matching the air as she did her best to focus on the door.

But before they could leave, Robin interrupted them. “I can wake Vy up if you two needed to say something,” he offered to the pair with a raised hand, “ I know just how to wake her up without upsetting her.” 

Rex and Quetz stopped in their place before Quetz answered. “If it’s not too much trouble...” the words came out soft while she looked down towards the ground. “Wouldn’t want to bother pajarita...”

"Hey, it's no trouble at all," Robin said with a wry smile to the happy couple. "Besides, she's been sleeping for a decent amount of time now, should be enough at this point." He then placed a gentle hand onto the sleeping Vy’s shoulder. After a light shake and him telling her, "Get up, little sparrow, you have visitors," eventually Vy started to wake up.

Vy made a soft "muuuu" as she got up before asking, "Who is it?" She reached her hand out for her glasses, which were immediately handed to her by Robin. "Thankie, Big Robin," she quipped, then she looked up to see Rex and Quetz.

Immediately before Vy could utter anything, Quetz was in her face, excitement showing clear as day in her smile. "Pajarita! I have such great news!" If Vy wasn't awake already, she definitely was now. Almost immediately Quetz lifted her hand to show Vy the ring Rex gave to her. "Mi amor proposed to me!" She squealed all while pointing at said ring with her other hand.

“Didn’t see that coming,” Robin said sarcastically.

Vy gave him a look past the rim of her glasses before turning to Quetz with a happier, “Congratulations! I am so happy for you two!"

Quetz, still very excited, then placed both hands on Vy's shoulders and exclaimed,  "And I want you to be one of my bridesmaids!" while giving such a bright smile of excitement.

Vy was then stunned silent. One second passed, then two. After five, it still seemed like she was unable to speak before eventually uttering to Robin, "Pinch me.” The statement had confused Rex and Quetz, though Robin seemed to understand the situation.

While he didn't pinch her, he did poke her cheek instead. "Ow! I said, ‘pinch’ me," she chastised.

"I'm not gonna do that. Also you need to answer the goddess here," he responded with a raised eyebrow.

“Okay…” Vy was still a bit taken aback by Quetz's request, turning back to Quetz with a face. "You want... me... to be one of your bridesmaids?" she asked, still a bit quiet.

"Pues si, porque no? Is there something odd about that?" Quetz had questioned Vy.

Rex then chimed in, "You've been an amazing friend to the both of us, Vy. It only makes sense for us to request this of you," with a soft and sincere smile on his face.

Judging by the look on her face, Vy was still unsure how to take it. "It's just.... I'm surprised to even be invited, let alone for you to want me to be a bridesmaid..." As she said this, she turned her head away and wrung her hands together.Both Rex and Quetz were confused by this statement. "Why do you say that, Vy?" Rex asked in his confusion. "Of course we'd invite you, and besides, pretty much all of Novum Chaldea is invited anyways...."

“…You’d be amazed at what some people in my time before Chaldea would’ve said about me,” Vy answered instead, her shoulders slumping. “So it’s still a surprise to me.” Before Rex could get a word in, Vy shook her head. “Let’s just say I had to learn from a young age that I couldn’t take friends for granted. Anything for granted, really. So, as much as I’m happily surprised, I do want to ask.” Vy turned back to the happy couple with those words, her mouth knit into a thin and serious line. “Are you sure about me? Absolutely?”

Quetz did not miss how Robin stood to attention with Vy’s words. She then turned back to Vy before answering her query with a huff. “Absolutely, pajarita! I am one hundred percent sure I want you to be one of my bridesmaids!” Her certainty was clear as day — obvious enough that Rex, Vy, and Robin could tell that she was not budging on this.

Rex added, “I’m sorry you’ve had to deal with such awful people, but here and now we’re your friends, and we’d love to have you as a part of the wedding!” Rex showed the same amount of certainty his fiance had just shown. They, for sure, wanted Vy as a part of this!

Vy paused, blinking before tears welled up in her eyes and she ducked her head. “Dorks. Everyone around me are just total dorks.” Her voice cracked at the last part. “I-I’m definitely going to cry at the wedding, you’re okay with that, right?”

Quetz immediately hugged Vy tight. "Of course that's okay! I'll probably be crying even more that day!" 

Rex joined in the hug with a laugh. "We're all pretty big dorks! And we're happy you're willing to support this union of ours!" 

Robin looked onto the lovely sight before Vy looked at him. "You can join in too, Big Robin. We don't want you to miss out."

Quetz looked at Robin as well, beaming. "Si Robin! Join the hug!" 

Robin sighed a bit before stating, "Well, who am I to deny such a request," as he shrugged before joining in the group hug!

Not long after, Rex and Quetz left Vy's room to start looking for their other friend, Quin. But just as they entered the hallway they immediately spotted Quin walking next to Ortlinde down the hall.

"Quin! Great timing! We were just looking for you!" Rex exclaimed while running towards Quin.

"Oh! H-hello Big bro! It's s-so nice to s-see you a-active again!" Then Quin goes in for a hug, before stopping herself. "Oh s-sorry, are h-hugs ok? It w-won't hurt w-will it?" She asked out of concern for Rex.

Before answering, Rex immediately hugs Quin very tight. "Hugs are more then ok lil sis!" Rex exclaims while squeezing her.

Quin hugs Rex back "I-I'm happy y-you're doing f-fine then!" Before the two let go.

"I am happy you are doing better, Master Rex." Ortlinde added "No stab wound could stop a warrior such as yourself"

"Yeah, it got close tho. But thanks for that" Rex responded to Ortlinde.

"Si, it was very concerning for me at the time." Quetz told the two of them. "But I'm happy everything turned out fine."

Then Quin added in "Y-yeah… well e-everything has been m-mostly fine s-since you've b-been recovering. O-other then V-vy y'know… b-being Vy…. But h-hey! You said y-you had something t-to tell me?"

This prompted Quetz to raise her hand to show off the ring Rex got her before telling Quin "Mi Amor proposed to me!"

Then Quin's eyes lit up with excitement. "Oh Congratulations you two!!! That's so amazing!!!"

Ortlinde also added "Congratulations you two. That is most exciting."

"There's another thing I need to say tho, Quin" Rex said to her while stepping a bit closer.

Quin tilted her head curiously at what he said. "Oh? W-what would t-that be, Big bro?"

Rex shuffled a bit before asking "Quin…. would you be my Best Woman?!"

Quin stood there silent for a short time, prompting Ortlinde to ask "Master? Your brother asked you a question…. Master?"

Quetz and Rex looked at each other a bit with concerned expressions before looking back at Quin again. "Mariposa? Is everything ok?" Quetz asked Quin.

Then eventually Quin teared up a bit "O-oh I-I w-w-would l-l-love t-t-to!!! T-that's s-s-so sweet o-of y-you to th-think o-of m-me in th-that r-regard!!!" Before she hugged Rex once again!

Rex hugged back once again, with Quetz joining in too! "I didn't expect you to be so emotional about this Quin"

"I-It's just s-so surprising th-that you'd a-ask me…!" She said through the tears. "I-It makes m-me very h-happy!"

Ortlinde looked on, happy for the others. Then Quetz looked at her and extended a hand towards her "Well don't just stand there Ortlinde! Join us! After all, you're invited to the wedding too!"

Ortlinde was a bit shocked at first, before smiling and joining the hug. "Thank you, miss Quetzalcoatl." It was a very nice scene.

Eventually Rex and Quetz were back in there room after they spread the news to most of Novum Chaldea. "Mi amor… it's still unbelievable that this is happening! I've always wanted to be married, and for the longest time I wasn't sure if it would ever happen…. But now… it's happening!" Quetz exclaimed excitedly while getting into bed.

"Hehe… yeah… well like I told you I don't want to have any regrets. And I know we'll be happy together, so I want to come together already…." Rex told Quetz while also in bed, holding Quetz's hand.

Quetz pulled his hand to her lips kissing it "You're so sweet mi amor! I can't wait for our wedding!"

Then Rex responded "me neither!"

A/N: and there's the newest fic! Wedding news with other mastersonas belonging to @writer-and-artist27 and @hasbbdoneanythingwrong hope it turned out well!

Other tags

@renmeo @chaldeamage-neo @exmeowstic @grievouslyxorvia @starry-sky-imaginarium @hasspartacusdoneanythingwrong @vanillachaldea @hasnightingaledoneanythingwrong

#fate grand order #quetzalcoatl #wife #mastersona #rex #rexcoatl #vy #quin #robin hood (fate) #ortlinde

[littleoldrachel]

"how much did you drink?"

for the utterly wonderful @gumnut-logic who asked for how much did you drink? with virgil and scott from this prompt list. tysm my lovely 💚💚💚💚 this ran away from me a bit and i am Not Sure but i hope you still enjoy!

[if you wanna prompt me, hmu! but beware i am slooooow]

Scott slinks through the sliding doors, relishing the cooling sweat on his skin as the sky begins its raspberry ripple across the tropical island. His dawn runs are the only time he gets to really be - he loves his family with everything he has and more, but that half hour with just the consistent crunch of earth beneath his feet is his own perfect sanctuary.

And goodness knows he needs it after the past couple of days.

A flash of Alan’s terrified face as the grapple line gave way and he’d plunged -

Scott screws up his face, crumpling the image like one of Virgil’s discarded “rubbish” (read: brilliant, if rough around the edges) sketches.

Speaking of which, it’s time for Scott to do the rounds and check in on his sleeping brothers.

There’s Alan, sprawled haphazardly across the floor of his bedroom - the only sign of his near-death encounter in the careful bandaging around his forearm (“I can too still game like this, Scott, I’m not balancing the controller on my wrists??”). Gordon too, is starfished on his duvet, but beginning to stir as fractured sunlight dances across his room.

Virgil, however - most unusually - is not burritoed in blankets, which sets Scott’s choir of alarm bells ringing. He hesitates, then sighs, patching through to Thunderbird Five even as he makes his way to Virgil’s studio (also empty).

“John?” he asks quietly, because John works on an unpredictable sleep schedule that gives Scott more stress than he cares to admit, but he would like John to be sleeping right now.

“John is sleeping, Commander. May I be of service?” EOS’ voice is more than a little grating in comparison to the bird song that floats through Virgil’s open windows. Scott resists the urge to grit his teeth - he is trying, okay?

“EOS. Hi.” He rubs his chin, eyes catching on the top sketch of Virgil’s messy pile: Thunderbird One streaking across a stormy sky mid-lightning strike. “Can you tell me where Virgil is?”

“Virgil is in the hangars, where he has been for the last thirteen and a half hours,” EOS says primly.

Scott’s head snaps up, even though there’s nobody there to stare at. “What? Did he fall asleep down there?”

“No, Commander, he is very much awake.” There’s something in her tone that riles him up, a pre-rehearsed nature to it, but he deliberately sets it aside for Future Scott. He’s given a curt thanks to EOS before he’s even registered that he’s striding down to the hangars, concern driving him with a speed usually reserved for rescues.

He hears Virgil before he sees him, a loud swear and a clatter of tools as he’s rounding the corner into the workshop.

Virgil is kneeling over a workbench, picking glumly through the jumble of parts skidding across the surface. Dark brows knitted tight, skin pale beneath fluorescent white lights, a graveyard of abandoned mechanisms, drained mugs, and scraps of graph paper all around him.

"Virgil."

It comes out a little sharper than intended, slicing through the silent workshop and causing Virgil to start violently.

"Scott! What are you doing here?"

"I came to ask you the same thing?"

"I'm…" Virgil gestures vaguely at the chaotic work surface. "Fixing."

"Have you had any sleep?

Virgil frowns. "I'm fine, it's not that late yet."

Scott stares, concern steadily rising. Virgil is known for losing track of time when absorbed in a task, but only usually with his art, and only for this period of time when he's upset, working something through, or...

Only then does Scott take in the way Virgil's hands tremble around the pieces of metal in his fingers, the jittering beat of his leg like helicopter wings, and slight dampness of the unstyled waves of hair across his forehead. He blinks at Scott, squinting a little in that way that Scott knows means a killer headache is brewing.

Methodically, the Commander of International Rescue surveys the room, searching for the source of the issue. His eyes land on the culprit: a coffee-stained jug, completely drained save the dregs of coffee grounds plastering the sides of the container.

It’s a big jug.

Scott swears.

“Virg. How much did you drink?”

Virgil’s eyes dart all over, not resting for a second on Scott’s face. “I - I don’t know. I just had some whenever I got tired and now I’m-” He wrings his hands, sending metal parts spilling from his palms.

“But why? What the hell were you thinking?” Scott’s tone is chiding, too harsh, and he makes a deliberate effort to reign in the reprimand that’s rearing up inside him.

“I just... “ Virgil swallows, meeting his eyes for a moment, looking away at the disappointment there. “I just needed to understand what happened to the grapple lines. To make sure it doesn’t happen again.”

Oh, Virg.

Scott softens, Commander melting back into Protective Big Brother because he gets it. God knows he gets it. He steps towards Virgil, wraps a hand around his elbow, feels it shake beneath his touch.

But why like this, Virgil?

“For thirteen hours?”

Virgil blinks and the genuine surprise in his eyes is enough that Scott accepts that this wasn’t a deliberate act of self-destruction and that loosens the anxious knot in his chest a little.

“I didn’t mean -”

“I know.”

Virgil ducks. “I just needed to find out -”

“I know.”

Virgil bites his lip, and Scott knows the image of their littlest brother’s panicked face is stuck on repeat in his mind. Scott closes his eyes, allows the video to roll in his own head, and the pain that rips through his chest has him tugging Virgil into his arms for a hug. Big as he is, Virgil is never one to say no to a hug, and he folds himself into Scott’s chest with a sigh. Scott can still feel the tension thrumming through Virgil’s body, and he instinctively tightens his grip.

Trust Virgil to hurt himself with his bean-juice addiction. Frankly, they’re lucky this hasn’t happened before with the amount of the stuff he pours into his body.

“I know I’m not having a heart attack, but -”

“You know I love it when you begin a sentence like that -”

Virgil tries to laugh but it comes out a little shaky. "Shut it, you." He rests his head on Scott's shoulder. "My heart is going so fast it hurts. Feels like a goddamn panic attack."

“What the hell have you done to yourself?”

“Mild caffeine overdose,” Virgil’s voice comes out muffled. “Sorry.”

“Mild. Caffeine. Overdose.”

Virgil laughs again, a little surer this time and pulls back from the hug. “I’ll be okay. Just gonna feel horrible for a bit, I think.”

“You think. Let’s see if Grandma agrees.”

“No! Let her have her time away - this is - it’s stupid. I’m fine.”

Scott gives him a Look, but Virgil glowers right back.

Scott loves him, but Jesus, does he wish he could trust Virgil to be honest with him about his health.

“Don’t make me set you up in the infirmary. You know I’m not bluffing.”

The glare intensifies. “I’m fine, Scott.”

Scott resists the urge to roll his eyes with a truly Herculean effort. “I want to do a scan, just to be sure.” “Scott -”

He plays the trump card (regrets playing it at the look on Virgil’s face, but needs must). “I could have lost Allie too, Virg. Don’t make this harder than it is.”

Virgil sags. He taps his watch. “EOS?”

“Yes, Virgil?”

“Please can you pull up my vitals for my dear big brother to fret over?”

“Of course, Virgil. Though I don’t understand why you want Scott to fret, he seems grumpy en-”

“Thank you, EOS.”

A holograph flickers into view, and Scott scans them, relaxing slightly at the lack of danger. Virgil’s heart rate is too high, as expected, and he’s dehydrated and exhausted, but otherwise, he really does seem okay. Still, Scott knows how dangerous dehydration and exhaustion can be, and more to the point, so does Virgil.

“You’re a stubborn idiot, you know that, right?”

“I learned from the best.” Virgil’s smile is teasing, but he’s okay, and Scott releases the breath he didn’t know he was holding.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Sure, Scooter, whatever you say.” Scott glares. “Right. You’re grounded for at least a day -” To his credit, Virgil only looks a little crestfallen. “- And you’re going to rest.”

Scott can practically see the cogs turning in his brother’s mind as he seeks a loophole or way to escape, but for now, he’s going to ignore it. Another problem for Future Scott, poor guy …

“Let’s go. Up to the lounge, now.”

“I should clear up -”

“Nuh-uh. Lounge. Now.”

Virgil lets out a loud sigh, and with much griping about leaving the workshop messy for Brains, leads the way up to the lounge. Scott follows closely, eyeing how Virgil’s feet drag with exhaustion even as his fingers tap away with restless energy.

Scott deposits him on one of the couches, tosses a throw over him, and resists the urge to tuck him in, but only because -

“I’m not sick, Scott. I’m okay! This isn’t necessary,” Virgil calls after him. Scott returns seconds later, a glass full of water.

“Drink all of this. And then have these.” Scott drops two electrolyte tabs beside Virgil. “Now excuse me, but I’m going to consult a qualified medical opinion before I believe you.”

“I am a qualified medical opinion -”

“- Who hasn’t overdosed on caffeine this morning.”

Virgil scowls. “I’m never going to live this down, am I?”

*****

Scott returns with Gordon, whose concerned professionalism quickly morphs into a shit-eating grin when it becomes apparent that actually, Virgil - for all his brilliance and talent - is an idiot.

But he’s surprisingly gentle when he fetches Virgil another glass of water and suitably soothing as they take a calm stroll around the flatter paths of the island to help Virgil burn some restless energy. The waft of pancakes draws them back into the lounge where Scott has stacked up thick, fluffy pancakes that melt on their tongues and warm them inside out.

By now, Virgil is visibly less shaky, and Gordon’s concern has dissipated to the extent that he blatantly steals three pancakes off Virgil’s plate. To be fair, Virgil probably doesn’t need six pancakes, but still. It’s the principle of the matter.

Scott - bless his heart - has also queued up the latest series of the ocean documentary that Gordon and Virgil gush over, but that Scott himself finds mind-numbing. The three of them squash together on one sofa, chomping pancakes and squabbling over blankets as the sun rises on another beautiful day.

Alan strolls in, nose first and still half-asleep. “Pancakes?” he says hopefully.

He catches sight of Virgil and seems to shake himself awake immediately. “Virgil? What the hell are you doing up?”

“Language,” Scott says thickly, the effect lessened by the mouthful of pancake and chocolate spread inside it.

“What the heck,” Alan waves a dismissive hand. “It’s barely ten, Virg?”

“Tell him what you’ve gone and done,” Scott says, because damn straight is he going to hold onto this one the next time Virgil’s yelling at him for taking a stupid risk. Well, at least I can drink coffee without poisoning myself, Virgil can just hear it now. .

“I drank too much coffee,” Virgil tells the ceiling.

“Sorry, V,” Gordon says, his smile wicked. “Allie didn’t quite catch that.”

Virgil sighs. “I overdosed on caffeine,” he says loudly.

“That’s a thing?!” Alan splutters. And then he bursts out laughing and Virgil wants to glare because he’s exhausted and his head is throbbing and there’s an anxious wriggle in his chest that keeps poking at his limbs.

But he also thought for one terrible moment yesterday that he wouldn’t get to hear that laugh again. The relief is infectious.

It never takes much to set Gordon off, but cracking Scott is a true victory, because for a second, the lines around his eyes crinkle with something other than stress.

Alan sets himself up with pancakes (far too smug that he’s allowed the chocolate spread on his where Virgil was only allowed syrup), and plonks himself down on Virgil’s right, bandaged arm and all. Whilst Gordon and Alan quarrel over species of tropical fish, Scott looks over at Virgil, raising his eyebrows. Are you okay? it says.

Virgil smiles and nods.

Inevitably, Scott and Gordon are called away on a rescue, just as Alan has grown tired of the nature documentary and is demanding something more exciting. Virgil consents to the first movie Alan picks out, because he’s too busy watching Gordon fly his beloved ‘Bird away with an expert hand.

God, he’s so tired. His limbs are heavy and aching from the tension of holding them in place all night and his head pounds in beat with his too-fast heart..

He’s utterly exhausted. If only his mind could get the memo. Instead it careens between thought processes: the grapple lines, his failed calculations, the disaster zone he’s left the workshop in -

It doesn’t matter though.

Because Alan’s alive and that’s all that matters.

Alan, whose gentle hand snakes through Virgil’s hair in a tender, soothing way that plucks at the knot of anxiety in Virgil’s chest, whose ministrations are a blessed, momentary pain relief for his sore head.

*****

It’s dark when he wakes, though he doesn’t remember his overwrought brain finally giving into sleep. His limbs no longer feel like they’re spasming out of control and his head aches with a more manageable pain, but he’s still drained. On the floor next to him, Alan is snoring at the centre of a nest of blankets - at least two of which Virgil is sure were wrapped around himself before...

He raises his head to look for his water glass, and nearly jumps out of his skin at the sight of his oldest brother standing in the shadows, watching. He’s still in his uniform, which suggests Thunderbird One just docked - presumably her engines through the open patio doors are what woke him.

“What the fuck, Scott?” he hisses.

“Sorry,” Scott says, though he doesn’t sound particularly apologetic. He moves into the light, and repositions Alan so that he can rescue one of the blankets for Virgil once more. “Go back to sleep.”

“Did the rescue go okay?” Virgil asks instead, relieved at Scott’s easy nod - and relatively clean, dry appearance.

“Gordon’s heading back now, all good. And no issues with grapples today, thank God.” Scott’s voice is low but Virgil still flinches from it.

“I’m going to find out what happened, Scott, I swear -”

“I know you will.” Scott’s voice is so firm, so strong that it momentarily steals Virgil’s breath how much faith Scott has in him. "I know you’ll figure it out, Virg. But you don’t have to do it on your own. You and Brains will work on it and find a solution, John’s going to identify the person responsible, and EOS will make sure they can never do it again. But it’ll be when you haven't overdosed on caffeine. Do you understand?”

It’s the kindest of reprimands. The same kind of pleading why won’t you just take care of yourself tone that Virgil finds himself using more and more on Scott these days, but with so much understanding and love, Virgil finds himself blinking back tears.

He can only nod and Scott steps back. “I’m going to go shower. Get some rest, Virgil.”

Scott turns to leave and Virgil forces himself to muster up his barely replenished energy reserves. He snags Scott’s sleeve, “Scott - thank you.”

Scott smiles a smile that’s just them, soft and trusting and concerned. “God knows you’ve looked after me through far worse hangovers than this. But don’t you dare do this again, Virg. I mean it. Don’t make me confiscate all the coffee on the island, because you know I’ll do it if I have to.”

“I know you will.”

Scott runs a hand through Virgil’s messy waves fondly, letting his hand rest at the nape of his neck where the headache pain is regrouping. “Sleep, Virg.”

And he does.

#thunderbirds are go #littleoldrachel writes #virgil tracy #scott tracy #earth and sky

[worldoffanfiction2021]

{Image Sources: Dong Hua: https://daydaynews.cc/en/entertainment/419895.html Fengjiu: https://www.pinterest.com/pin/1196337391276429/}

The family of three deities had bid adieu to their relatives in Quingqui and taken the magical boat to Bihai Cangling. Dijun and Fengjiu had both managed to handle their respective duties and arranged for messengers to visit them here at their new place of residence, actually their real home, for the next few months. They were all very excited about it.

Fengjiu was remembering their last visit fondly. The last time she had been here, she had spent some magical time with Dijun.

Dijun was also remembering his last visit. But there wasn’t any fondness in those memories for him. He had been there was to build the Star Light ward. He had not expected to come back alive to this place, much less to come back alive with his wife and son. He looked at Xiaobai and marveled at her. It had been her who had saved him and saved his home. She was the best. He lovingly played with her hair.

Gungun saw that they were about to reach to a beautiful landscape, the likes of which he had never seen. “Father, your home is so beautiful. It’s even better than the Sky Kingdom!”, he exclaimed clapping excitedly.

“Gungun’s reaction to Bihai Cangling is just like yours when you came here for the first time.”, said Dijun smilingly to Xiaobai. "It's your home too, Gungun. It’s our home.", he added. He liked the sound of that very much.

Xiaobai noticed that a lot had changed since she had last visited. Row of fruit trees and vines had been planted - grapefruits, pears and grapes. There was a long corridor with an artificial hill. The hill really looked like a real rocky mountain, just smaller than a mountain. On either side of the corridor there were beautiful trees of foiling flowers. Spiritual birds danced to ‘paying homage to the Phoenix’ near by.

Then there was a pavilion overlooking a lotus pond. White and pink lotuses swayed gracefully in a cool breeze there. White sandalwood on each side of the pavilion gave the seating area a perfect cover from sun.

Xiaobai recalled her own words from the last time she had visited. Dijun had done everything she had asked for. She was transfixed.

When they walked a little further, her jaw dropped to the floor. Sitting atop a slightly raised platform was a house. Not just any house - the bamboo house she had drawn! Oh, Dijun!!!! She stood dumbfounded with tears in her eyes.

Dijun realized she had stopped walking and turned around. When he saw her face he asked with worry, “What’s wrong? Did I mess it up?” Forgetting about Gungun watching them, she ran forward and hugged him. She buried herself in his arms and said, “No, Dijun. No mess up. This is perfect. You made our home. Our home!” She choked on her emotions and couldn’t say anything else. Dijun smiled and planted a kiss on her head.

Gungun was watching all this and came running. “Mother and Father are kissing again. I want a kiss too.”, he giggled. Dijun picked him up and twirled him high. His giggles and Dijun’s laughter filled the space. And Xiaobai’s heart. They were home.

When they went inside, Xiaobai realized that all the basic things they had planned for, had been done. There was a study, a living room and a well-lit, well ventilated kitchen. The large kitchen window overlooked the fruit trees. There were two identical rooms - one for Gungun and another for his little brother/ sister, as Dijun explained, his eyes hinting mischievously. It made Gungun very excited to think that he would have a playmate. Then there were a couple guest rooms. Dijun and Xiaobai’s  room was a spacious suite with a large bed. A foiling flower tree was the headboard of that bed. They even had a nice little hot spring next to their room.

“Dijun, the house is great, but there’s still work to do. We have to set up the kitchen, the wardrobes and such.”, began Xiaobai. “If I do everything, what will you do?”, he interrupted her, pretending to be arrogant and tapped her forehead. Then he leaned in and whispered in her ears “But I have already done so much work here. You owe me big this time.  I will collect my dues from you at night.” Seeing her cheeks instantly color up pleased him.

There was a balcony behind their room. It overlooked a large playground with targets set up for practicing archery, an open space for sword plays and martial arts. On one side was another building. “That is a workshop where we can forge weapons. I have also placed all the weapons I have made or collected in a room in there. I am sure you will like it.”, said Dijun. She looked at him with pride in her eyes. Dijun felt that all his efforts had been completely worth it.

“I am so hungry, mother. When can we eat?”, asked Gungun. “You and Father can put your things in your rooms. I will quickly get food ready.”, said Xiaobai patting him. They all went their separate directions and got busy.

After some time they all got together in the dining room and ate a simple but delicious meal. Fengjiu had found that right next to the kitchen was a vegetable and herb garden. She had picked some fresh veggies to prepare rice porridge and mushrooms-vegetables stir fry. Some lentil cakes rounded up the meal. She had always been good in cooking. Her years in mortal realm had helped her perfect  the art of making do with whatever was available.

After they cleared up all the food, Fengjiu wanted to go to her room and take a nap. But Dijun insisted they go to the lotus pond and catch some fish. She almost suspected that he wanted to keep her away from their bedroom. “May be he has made a mess in there with all the stuff. I better not go in there or else I will end up cleaning everything myself.”, she thought to herself as she followed her guys to the pond. When they got there, she rested her head in Dijun’s lap and dozed off happily.

She woke up a little while later when tiny hands were trying to tap on her head. "Mom, wake up! Look I caught a fish!! My first ever fish!!!", Gungun was showing off with eyes wide with excitement. She couldn't help by smile at him. "I will make sweet and sour fish for dinner tonight with this. You both like it, don't you?" She said. Two heads full of silver hair nodded in fervent agreement. "Like father - like son", she chuckled.

She completely lost herself in cooking dinner. In addition to sweet and sour fish, she also made sticky rice and soup. "For Dijun and Gungun. They need this nourishment.", she told herself. All this was gobbled up pretty quickly between the three of them.

After dinner they took off for a long walk that led them back to the weapon forge. Dijun took them in and Fengjiu was like a kid in the candy store. She enjoyed designing and creating mechanical weapons. Among other things, this was something she and Dijun had in common. Gungun was quite curious and looked around with amazement. But he was slowly beginning to get tired and needed to get to bed. So they all returned homewards.

"You take him to his room and get him ready for bed. I will bring him a glass of milk. He will sleep well with that.", said Dijun. Fengjiu nodded and walked away holding Gungun's little hand. In his room, she helped him bathe and change. They both were happy they didn't need to dye his hair anymore. As she was settling him in his bed, Dijun came in with a glass on milk in his hand. He made sure Gungun finished it up. Then they both dimmed the candles, kissed Gungun sweet dreams and left the room.

When they reached the doorstep of their bedroom, Dijun gestured Fengjiu to stop. "What's wrong?", asked Fengjiu puzzled. "Close your eyes.", ordered Dijun. "Why should I?", replied Fengjiu more puzzled. "Please, Xiaobai. Do as you are told.", Dijun coaxed her. So she sighed and closed her eyes. "You are acting very weird tonight.", she said.

She found herself being lifted in his arms. She felt the door opening and he walking in with her.

"Can I open my eyes now?" Feng Jiu asked. "Not yet, just a little bit longer.", Dijun replied. She could feel the smile in his voice.

"What's going on? I am opening my eyes now." She nagged him anxiously as she felt herself being lowered on something extremely soft.

"Wait. Just a few more moments.", Dijun replied as he adjusted her clothes. "Okay, you can open your eyes now.", he said.

She was so not ready for what she was seeing. The room had been transformed. It looked like a bride's chamber on a wedding night. There was an altar placed for heaven worship ceremony. Gold, white and purple lanterns adorned the ceiling. Matching candles, flower arrangements and curtains hung everywhere. Every seat in the room and the whole bed was covered in foiling flower petals. She was draped in her wedding gown. And then as she turned towards Dijun she saw that he himself was looking extremely handsome in his wedding attire. Nothing in the room was nearly as mesmerizing as the sight of the regal man himself. He took her breath away and she could not help but stare at him open mouthed.

"I never gave you a proper wedding. I have regretted that very much.", he said huskily as he walked towards her with a purple veil. "Tonight, let's get married, Xiaobai.", he said softly as he came close and arranged the veil over her hair. She didn't know what to say or do. She was completely under his spell.

He led her by her hand towards the altar. They kowtowed to the heaven and earth. They remembered her parents and kowtowed for them. Then they bowed to each other. Very carefully he lifted her veil and took her hands in his.

"In all three eternities you are the only one who has moved my heart, Xiaobai. You, little fox, will always belong to me.", he looked deeply into her eyes and promised possessively.

She smiled with stars in her eyes and promised him back, "In any eternity I will bring you in my life. Because I love you the most Dijun, you will always belong to me."

He leaned in and planted kisses on her face. He kissed her hair, her forehead, her eyes, her nose and then covered her lips with his. He felt her respond to him and deepened the kiss. She trembled and moved closer in his arms. Slowly he moved to her ear. "Ever since I have had this dress made for you, I have imagined so many ways I would like to undress you from it.", he teased huskily. "Um? So you got this elaborate and extravagant dress made only so that you could undress me from it?", she asked pulling back and squinting her eyes at him. "HHmm.. ", he pursed his lips and nodded solemnly. "You are so... ", she started to say, but completely lost her train of thought under his hot, hungry gaze. He claimed her lips again and started undressing her.

#dong hua x feng jiu #fengjiu #bai feng jiu #ten miles of peach blossoms #dong hua dijun #dijun #eternal love of dream #cdrama #chinese drama #dong hua #xiao bai #bai gun gun #vengo gao #dilireba

[knockknockchicagopd]

A SERIE WITH HANK VOIGHT. CHAPTER I.

❚❙ WORDS: about 1.1k

❚❙ A/N: this writing hasn’t been edited, you may find some grammar mistakes, I’m sorry about that. If you find a description about body or a word out of place, or something that it makes you feel uncomfortable / unrepresented, let me know by a private message and I will change it delighted.

❚❙ GIF credits: to my amazing @sonsofeorl.

❚❙ Tag list: @melblacc @rebelwrites @skyofficialxx @sesamepancakes @scarletsoldierrr @mondefantastique @that-chick212 @enbyamaro @inlovewith3 @ocetevasgirl @sophie-writes @destynelseclipsa @jadakiss13. If you want to be added to my tag list, send me a message.

You hate paperwork, but being in your first year of residence that's your main task at the hospital. The real doctors always take advantage of your situation, alleging that you're too intelligent to lose your time taking some classes for medical examinations. So they let you complete their reports and medical records.

Will sticks his head out of the frame door, knocking it to earn your attention. With a heavy sight, you raise up your eyes from the screen of your laptop. The smile curving up his lips makes you now that he needs you. He is something like your sponsor and, sometimes, he gives you the opportunity to attend patients with superficial wounds. You don't ask getting up from your chair, infected by the grin on his face.

Following him quickly through the main hallways, he guides you to a treatment room in the Emergencies, wearing your white coat ready for whatever. Will opens you the door to find three men there. You don't know any of them.

“What 'we got?” You ask going straight to the sink to wash your hands, before wearing a pair of gloves.

“Something simple. Clean shot. Bullet stuck in the right shoulder. Two inches and a half deep”.

In silence, you grab a small glass bottle with lidocaine inside to place it over the removable tray and start to prepare everything you need to heal the man grunting on the stretcher.

“Wait, wait, wait”. The older man sits up with a sarcastic grimace. “Have you lost your damn mind, Halstead? A kid ain't gonna remove that bullet from me”.

Not even looking at the doctor, you frown pressing a hand on the older's bare chest to push him down.

“My hospital, my rules”.

Hearing some giggles behind you from his companions, you raise both eyebrows tilting your chin. When he understands there's no other option, he tries to relax with a hissed fine. Putting the motion lamp over the open wound, you don't lose time on disinfecting it, being thanked that he's suffering a brief hemorrhage. The hole is big enough to not need to open it with a scalpel, studying it while injecting the lidocaine and waiting some seconds till the med makes its effect.

Counting down from ten to zero, you grab the tweezers leaning closer to slide it carefully inside the wound. Two inches and a half. It's easy for you to find the bullet, catching it slowly and pulling your hand up until you have the piece of steel out of him. Inspecting it, you make sure that the shoot has been really clean and there's no shrapnel, before starting to stitch up.

It doesn't take you more than a minute, being an easy task for you, seeing sideways Will proudly crossing his arms on his chest. Covering your small piece of art with a couple of gauzes, you force a smile to the man with his brown eyes glued on yours.

“Come tomorrow morning to check how it's going. Doctor Halstead will prescribe you meds for pain, and it would be good if you use a sling for a week, sir”.

Turning off the motion lamp and taking off the gloves from your hands to throw them into the trash, your sponsor offers you a fist to crash it with yours.

“Good job, (Y/L/N). Take a break of fifteen minutes, I cover your back”.

“Thank you”. Showing him a satisfied smile, you lead your steps to the outside of the room, stopping on your tracks under the frame. Turning around and grabbing a shape-heart lollipop from your coat pocket, you leave it over the stretcher. “For being a good boy”.

You can't help but waver him, narrowing your eyes.

“I ain't exactly a good boy, sweetheart”.

“And I'm not exactly a sweetheart”.

He spits a chuckle, kissing his teeth not being able to put his eyes off from you and that aura of cockiness that follows you everywhere.

“Gentlemen, Doc'”. Your head bows down with a short nod, before continuing your steps to the cafeteria.

Being sure that your work for today is already done and you have all your medical records organized over your desk for Will, you say your goodbyes and leave the hospital. The cold breeze of Chicago oblige you to zip your jacket over your chest, keeping your hands inside the pockets, prior to starting walking your way back home. You have always loved November's weather in your hometown, but you're starting to hate it since your car is in the workshop because someone had the brilliant idea of ripping your tires.

Closing the door behind you and leaving your bag in the entrance, you take off your jacket to hang it in the coat rack next to Matt's.

“Hey!” You shout, not sure where your housemate is.

“Kitchen!”

Stretching your arms over your head, you continue to the mentioned place, sitting on the marble counter highing five with the fireman.

“How was your day?” He asks turning the meat in the pan to the other side and season it with salt and pepper.

“Hm… interesting”. You reply pressing your lips and tilting your head. “Yours?”

“Quiet, actually”.

“Yeah, it's surprising when we don't get any patients from fire accid— what's that?” Your words are interrupted by your curiosity, pointing at the bucket of red roses in a jar over the dinner table. “Another old lady who fell in love with you, casanova?”

“Actually, I'm not the one who stole a heart today”.

Raising an eyebrow greatly taken aback, you put down yourself from the counter to grab his open beer. Having a sip, you hold the small paper card handwritten.

“I lost the lollipop, sorry”. You can't help but laugh softly like an idiot, under Matt's attentive look. As soon as you turn at him, you clear your throat erasing the goofy gesture from your face. “Halstead let me take care of a bullet wound. The guy was an idiot, so I laughed on his face giving him a lollipop. I think he was a cop”.

“Look at you… hanging out with the elite of Chicago”. Teasing you with some tickles, he places an arm over your shoulders. “How is his name? I must know him”.

“Dunno, he didn't say it. Will either. But he has to come back tomorrow for a revision”.

“Yeah… for a revision”.

“Aw, you jealous, Casey? How sweet…” Palming his chest and joking on him, you try to feign feeling touched. “Don't worry, no man will take your best friend's position”.

“I feel much better now. Should we order a pizza to celebrate it?”

“Please. I'm starving”.

“Let me guess…” Placing himself in front of you, walking backwards to the living room, Matt points at you with a forefinger. “Cheetos and Arizona tea for lunch again?”

“Who told you? Gabi or Sylvie?”

“Severide went to the hospital, and he had a glimpse of you in the cafeteria”.

“I knew you couldn't be this smart”.

#lemme know what you think in a comment! ⚡ #hank voight x reader #hank voight imagine #hank voight #chicago pd #chicago pd imagine #chicago pd x reader #one chicago

[quiveringdeer]

I hope the readmore posts right. If not. Sorry non filthy followers. This is my first long more than a dm ramble slasher fic. So please be gentle. Would love feedback if you feel inspired to!

Many thanks to @thesightstoshowyou for encouraging me to turn my original rambling into something more. And to @youtastelikesugar for beta reading for me! Love y'all dearly!!

Warnings: Minor character death, abuse, noncon, sexual themes, asphyxiation, strangling, really really not for the casually thirsty. It hits pretty dark moments that go far and some may not want to read. 18+ Please head these warnings!!

You and Bo are an item. Let's not dwell on the how and just focus on the now, shall we?

He's still got the anger issues but for the most part when it comes to y'all you work them out in the bedroom. Or his truck. Or kitchen. The theater. Hell, even that one time on the roof of the house. Who knew stargazing could make someone so frisky?

When Bo needs to have things rough, which is almost always, it's nothing you can't handle. If it was you wouldn't have made it anywhere close to this point in your relationship.

No. You offer up whatever Bo needs. And for a while you are more than enough.

But there's a deep darkness there. And sometimes his hands around your throat merely rendering you unconscious isn’t enough to ease the tension built up inside him.

So you come to an agreement. If he needs this one thing you can’t provide personally then you’ll let him take it from others. 

If you’re topside when new visitors roll in it becomes your own little game betting on which one he’ll choose. And no matter how much the flirting escalates or how many days he keeps them locked away under the station, you’re the one he comes home to. You’re the one providing everything else he desperately needs and desires. 

But as with all things there’s always a threshold. 

So it comes to pass when a sweet young thing roles into town with a couple friends. Immediately you know which of the prey Bo will zero in on. He’s so predictable at times. Or more accurately he’s predictable to you because you know him so well. Sometimes better than he knows himself with the way he still tries to deny those thoughts and feelings that aren’t so easy for him to accept. 

You do your part. Leading persuading the other friends to follow you to the house while Bo works on their car. Certainly some refreshments and home cooked food for their bellies is better than standing around while he fiddles with their car. 

A smirk curves your lips at the face you expect him to make at your flippant comment about his work. Then quickly falls when you realize his attention is too enraptured by his chosen quarry. Swallowing down the sour taste of jealousy blooming on your tongue you force an easy smile back to your lips. 

“Don’t take too long Bo.” You call out as you usher the other visitors out into the Louisiana heat. You’re proud of how carefree your tone comes off. But he catches the warning, meeting your eyes with one of those patented smirks of his. 

“Wouldn’t dream of it, Darlin’.” 

A small but sweet acknowledgement of claim that easily washes away that bitter tang of jealousy lingering at the back of your mouth.  You were his and he was yours. Even if the victim was unaware or ignoring it. All that mattered was that Bo remember that. 

Vincent takes care of the other two with ease as they sit at the small dining table outside the kitchen door. Just as you’re bringing out two chilled glasses of lemonade to the table he’s knocked them both unconscious. Blessedly without spilling too much blood. 

It’s why you’d moved a table out here to sit the victims. The dark wood of this room easier to remove stains than having to regrout light colored tile in the kitchen. Never again you’d vowed. 

Dinner has come and gone. Vincent has already posed and coated the others in wax. Moved onto the smoothing and carving of their new flesh.

You take extra time in the shower. Allowing the warm water to ease the tension you’ve been carrying since serving dinner for three instead of four. You deep condition your hair and breathe in the calming scent of eucalyptus and vanilla infused candles. You take time letting your hair air dry while exfoliating your face and moisturizing every inch of your body. 

It’s near 10:30pm and still Bo hasn’t come home. You know he’s fine. His new little toy deftly restrained in his own undertown “workshop.” But usually he has the decency to come home! Is he planning on spending the night there?

That bitterness from earlier is clawing up your throat. You blow out the relaxing candle that was doing a pisspoor job of keeping you relaxed and move into the bedroom. You weren’t going to wait up for him. With any luck you’d be asleep by the time he dragged his ass home. 

One. Two. Three. Three fucking days of Bo spending all his free time at the damn gas station. 

In those three days you couldn’t pinpoint exactly why THIS particular fixation of his was making you so agitated but enough was enough. 

Packing up food from this night’s dinner that he’d forgone, yet again, you make your way into town. The gas station doors aren’t locked. Why would they need to be when no one entered the boundaries of this town without you all knowing. 

A heavy bassline thumps through the radio speakers in the lobby. You pay no mind to the words as your ears zero in on the strained screaming of the poor soul who’d become Bo’s current preoccupation. 

Inhaling and exhaling deeply you school your expression into a stoic mask then descend into Bo’s DIY Tartarus. 

This door is locked. In case the prey finds some way to get loosed you presume. 

“ ‘M busy!” You hear Bo growl out over the woman’s reinvigorated pleas for help. 

“I advise penciling me in.” You call back in a sickly saccharine voice. You tended to stay away from either of the twins’ workshops. Even with his hydrophobic and soap-phobic tendencies you found Lester’s art more tolerable. If you wanted to watch any of the brothers with their chosen crafts. 

You believe you hear Bo say something like “stay there” but the soft volume makes you assume he’s not talking to you. Moments later there’s a click before the door swings open to reveal a sweaty, shirtless Bo. Jeans slung low on his hips and haphazardly zipped with the button at his fly remaining undone. “Hey Suga’. What brings ya by?”

With more force than necessary you press the bag of leftovers into his chest while pinning him with a pleasantly chipper smile before walking around him into the space. “Dinner. Figured you’d need something to refuel from all the activities keeping you away from home.” Your gaze sweeps the dim room, drawn immediately to the lamp light illuminating the mattress right in front of the door. 

The poor woman is stretched supine on the dingy sheets. Arms above her head, wrists bound tight with duct tape. Legs spread wide and tethered by the ankles with some thick, garish yellow nylon rope that prevent her from closing. 

“Thanks Darlin’.” Bo mentions cautiously. Your temper isn’t volatile and unpredictable like his. It’s piercing and direct, like a bullet. And when he had his wits about him he did well to remain out of the line of fire. Though obviously somehow he’d gotten pulled into your sights. He moves closer to you, leaning in to kiss your cheek. A gesture you allow, leaning your cheek out for him in encouragement. 

“Welcome. This is a different setup than I remember.” 

“Made a few changes.”

“Hmm..well. I’m not here to interrupt too long. Feel free to continue.” 

A smirk balances precariously on his lips as he pins you with a skeptical look. “Ya wan’ta watch?” 

“Yeah.” You respond with a casual shrug. “I want to see what’s so captivating about this one to keep you here so much.” 

“Alright Darlin’.” Bo kicks the door closed and sets the leftovers to the side before moving back in front of the woman on the bed who’s returned to pitiful sobbing. “Looks like we got an audience sweetheart. Better make it a great show hn?” That patented smirk is fully lodged on his face now as he pushes denim and cotton down over his hips. 

You think about remaining standing to the side but something urges you to sit down on the mattress, near the victims mucus and tear stained face. 

Bo pumps his cock against his palm, pretty baby blues raking over your form as you reach out to tenderly stroke the woman’s hair. She’s babbling again. Begging you for mercy. Mercy you aren’t in any position to grant at this point. Without warning Bo snaps his hips forward, sheathing himself completely in the warm sloppy mess he’s made of her cunt. The force jolts her body up the mattress as it rips a high pitched yelp from her throat 

“Shh...Shhh…” You coo, fingers still tenderly stroking over locks of filthy hair. Dried cum, blood and sweat matting them into clumps you don’t attempt to untangle. Your soothing goes unheaded as Bo wastes no time upping his face. His fingers digging bruises into her hips as he brutally batters her overused hole. The woman’s shrieks ramp up in volume alongside his pace. The pitch ear splitting. You wonder how after three days she hasn’t completely lost her voice. Brows pinching into a scowl you stand from the mattress. The motion raises Bo’s gaze to you but his movements don’t ease up. 

You’re not sure what has possessed you to these actions but in moments you’ve kicked off your shoes and pulled off your own jeans and underwear. The discarded jeans land close to the mattress as you step up to place a foot on either side of her head. Carefully you lower yourself until your pussy hovers over her open mouth. “If you’re not gonna be quiet then at least be useful.” Bo’s thrusts have stopped now. Watching you in a slight daze as you straddle the other woman’s face, frowning down at her as you speak. “Now lick. Do a good job and maybe I’ll find you a way out of this mess. Hm?” You lower your hips as her tongue eagerly lifts up to meet your slit. Willing to do anything to escape this hell she’d found herself in. 

A deep appreciative moan spills from your lips as you close your eyes and focus on the feel of her tongue lapping over and between your folds. When Bo doesn’t immediately begin his vigorous thrusting you open your gaze to him. “Well? You gonna let me have all the fun now?” Fun? Who were you right now? 

A genuine smile you’d almost label sappy blooms on Bo’s handsome face. One of his hands extends up to grip your chin firmly, pulling you forward enough to kiss you deep. All tongue and teeth for a long few moments before pulling back and restarting his punishing pace. “Wouldn’t dream of it, Darlin’” 

The phrase does more to light a fire in your belly than the tongue working your sex or his hungry kiss. A smile brightens your own face as you close your eyes and rock your hips against the woman’s face. Reveling in the positive feelings swirling through your body instead of the negative ones trying to launch up to the surface. 

In time you reach down and swirl your fingers over her clit. You’re sure Bo has worked her through numerous orgasms in the past few days. He gets off even more manipulating that pleasure from bodies that try hardest to resist. But you want to gift her some pleasure. Surely she’s earned it surviving this long. 

Together you pull multiple orgasms from her overloaded body until the fatigue is too much and her body sinks exhausted against the mattress. Barely any energy to keep motion in her tongue. A limp and sleepy doll is no fun for anyone. 

A dark idea lances to the front of your mind. It sets off a shudder through your body like a firework exploding in a radiant sphere of lines with each fizzling out along your nerve endings leaving your whole body tingling. Before your rational mind talks you out of it your hands move around the woman’s throat. It’s strange from this angle but you do your best to apply pressure against her carotid artery and vagus nerve with your thumbs. Causing that beautiful build of pressure which makes one feel like they’re floating. Hands overlapping the front of her throat, the sides of your fingers apply enough force to cut her access to new oxygen without smashing her trachea. The loss of oxygen is enough to immediately spark renewed energy throughout her body. Her bound wrists beat against your back weakly as her body begins to jerk and convulse beneath you both. You know it’s one of Bo’s favorite ways to finish and you want to show him that you can be a part of snapping the tension built up inside him. 

Your gaze trails from where his hips continue bucking into this latest little doll up to his baby blues. She wouldn’t survive this. But you would. You’d still be here. 

“Mine.” You state firmly, leaning forward seeking a kiss which he earnestly provides. His hands cup your face hard while he snaps his hips. Once. Twice. Three times and he’s spilling into her cunt for the last time. Your hands remain closed tight on her throat until the thrashing stills. You can now give him everything. Without your body ending up forever unconscious to be discarded for another. You can give him everything he needs and desires. Only you. 

#nat writes #slashers #bo sinclair #bo sinclair x reader #bo sinclair x you #slasher x reader #slasher x you

[minyoonmeme]

Normalcy of the Pretty Posse

Chapter 2

Word Count: 3708

Pairing: ??? x reader

Description: Stupid Jeongguk and his cute sweaters and pretty posse of hyungs.

Genre: again like 90% fluff, 5% humor, and another 5% of reader literally forgetting how to function a little

(Some rambling because I have no life: here is part 2! I honestly didn’t expect any one to find part 1 so??? thank you guys so much. I’ve missed writing lately and this has been such a good outlet for me. I hope you guys like it.)

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masterlist

“Hyung…” Jeongguk skids to a stop just before one of the sets of speakers. A whine leaves his mouth as he puffs out some air before tossing his bag haphazardly against a random speaker. “I messed up. Big time.” His legs, just slightly too long for the childish behavior, fold underneath him awkwardly as he flops against the dusty linoleum floor. 

Hoseok looks down at his younger friend as he folds another chair and places it against the wall. “Messed up as in pissing your pants again like that one time Freshman year or getting another C on a test?” Hoseok only laughs when Jeongguk throws a pen from his pocket at him. Jeongguk’s pout settles deeper on his face as his eyebrows furrow and Hoseok knows that whatever is bothering Jeongguk is something a little more closer to the heart than pissing his pants at a frat party after chugging an entire keg upside down.

“Hyung, I’m serious.” Jeongguk closes his eyes and wraps his sweater tighter around his body as he rolls on his left side to look at Hoseok. “You know that girl that dances in the back in your Thursday workshops?” 

“I’m gonna need you to be a little bit more specific, Guk. There are a lot of girls who come here.” Hoseok is only kidding, of course. He and all of Jeongguk’s hyungs know of his crush on the girl who comes every Thursday to his workshops. Jeongguk had originally only come to the workshops because Hoseok was nervous no one was going to come, but that was 2 months ago and despite the sign up list being full every week, Jeongguk still came despite being a little bit more advanced than the beginner classes he attended. Hoseok had offhandedly mentioned that Jeongguk tended to glance at the back, at a particular girl, during another one of their game nights and Jeongguk, wine drunk off of two bottles, giggled as he explained his small crush on a girl who attended Hoseok’s beginner class. 

“Hobi-hyung, she’s not a beginner like have you seen her dance? She just looks so pretty and her hair is just so..” Jeongguk giggles as he wraps a finger around his hair. “...fluffy after she dances.” A small hiccup escapes him as he finishes his glass. “It’s so cute.” Jeongguk, in silent awe, squeals a little into his glass, one of the many stolen from his favorite bar, as he scrunches into a ball and bangs his knee against the table. A smile never leaves his face as he continues to giggle into the fogging glass. 

Hoseok’s heart strings tug at the fond memory he has of his younger friend and decides to leave putting away the rest of the furniture to the workers who litter around him. Jeongguk lays his head against his knee when he sits next to him. “Tell Hyung what happened, Gukie. It can’t be worse than vomiting on the poor girl…..” Hoseok grimaces before giving Jeongguk a look. “You didn’t vomit on her right?” 

Jeongguk shakes his head no before huffing. “I asked her friend last week if (Y/N) was okay since she hasn’t been coming and I don’t know I panicked because like what if I missed my chance to even talk to her. A-and I saw her outside and I walked over and like spoke to her?” Jeongguk knocks his head a couple of times against Hoseok’s knee as he relives the moment in his head. “I was so nervous and sounded so stupid. She probably thought I was stupid and weird for coming up to her. What kind of person asks a stranger if they plan on coming back to some stupid dance class. She probably thinks I’m a creepy ass stalker who watches her dance every week.” 

Hoseok runs his hand through Jeongguk’s hair for comfort as the younger beats himself up mentally. “Are you saying my dance classes are stupid?” It’s meant to be a joke, but Jeongguk shoots his head up and sputters out incomprehensible words. “Guk, I’m kidding. I know you don’t think my classes are stupid, you’re just frustrated at yourself because your first interaction with your crush didn’t go as well as you planned.” Jeongguk flops back down against Hoseok’s thigh as he groans. Hoseok just smiles softly at him wondering how Jeongguk, handsome and all, was someone inept at talking to a simple girl. 

“I may have also lied and told her that you have me here to help out with teaching.” It’s muffled against his leg, but Hoseok hears every word. 

“So you chose to lie, for what?” 

“I panicked! I told her that her coming helped me with the others since she’s obviously experienced. How else was I supposed to explain that I, a complete stranger, noticed she was gone for two weeks? She’ll think I’, watching her or something.” 

“That’s all you ever do, Jeongguk. And besides, I didn’t even notice she was gone and I read the roster every night.” 

Jeongguk smacked his hyung’s hip closest to him as he huffed. “You’re not helping Hyung! Even if you didn’t notice she wasn’t here, she probably thinks I’m a stalker now. A big stupid stalker who can’t even look her in the eyes. I’m gonna be alone forever!”

Hoseok wanted to laugh at him, but decided that he needed to play the role of the helpful caring hyung for now. He’ll let the others clown him later once he retells everything to them tonight. “Gukie, you’re not gonna be alone forever. You’re smart and stupidly handsome. I don’t think you should’ve lied to her, but it’s not life or death, so you should be able to save yourself from this. How about you let your hyung help you a little tonight? Let me work my magic.” 

“You would help me?” Jeongguk throws his arms around his waist and gives a tight squeeze.. Hoseok grimaces from the too tight hug and the dust from Jeongguk’s sweater falling onto his new clothes. He ignores both in favor of giving Jeongguk’s back a few solid rubs. “You’re the best, Hobi-hyung.” 

“You’re on your own after tonight though, Gukie. No more help from your one of kind, amazing, most handsome Hyung.” 

“Jin-hyung isn’t here though?’ 

Hoseok scoffs and pushes Jeongguk off of him as he cackles from the floor. “Go open the doors you ungrateful brat.” 

_______________________________________________________________________

Tonight had been… interesting to say the least. 

Yoonjin had chosen to nudge me every time she thought Jeongguk had glanced in my direction resulting in a dull throb in my ribs. 

“Don’t look but he’s looking again… Oh my god, I said don’t look!” 

“You said that the last 4 four times and every time I look back he’s literally looking at Hoseok-shii.” I huffed and rubbed at my right side. Yoonjin has always been stronger than she looks. “Yoonjin, if you ram your boney ass elbow into my ribs one more time I will drop kick you into the wall.”

Yoonjin blinked at me before rolling her eyes. “He keeps looking away. Just trust me why don’t you! Why would I joke about this.” I rolled my eyes and refocused on Hoseok as he explained some of the footwork again. House dance had never been my speciality. 

“I don’t know, maybe you like to see me suffer.” 

“I’m literally trying to help you get a man.”

“No, you’re trying to break my ribs.” 

9 o’clock rolled around sooner than I expected as Hoseok wrapped up his lesson. Many of the students who endured the class in its entirety were shuffling to the walls of the room where their water bottles had long ago since turned lukewarm. Hoseok was not one for lots of water breaks. Used to long durations of exercising and cardio, I had chosen to hang back and stretch out while Yoonjin made small talk with the others around her. I held in my laugh as she shot me a look or two of ‘what the fuck is going on’ and ‘please help me’ while talking to the animated girl with sweat drenched pink ponytails. Figuring that whatever kind of conversation she was wrapped up in was payback enough for the bruising I was sure to have on my ribs for the next week, I chose to let her suffer. 

“You know I think you’d do a lot better in a higher level class.” There stood Jung Hoseok in all his beautiful glory as I attempted to straighten my legs from their lunge. I tried to blame the jittery feeling settling in as adrenaline from the cardio, but I knew my body was just buzzing from having him stand so close. Did he even sweat? How did he manage to smell like fucking flowers after dancing? Damn Jeongguk and his pretty posse. 

“Uh sorry?”

Jung Hoseok smiled and offered a hand to me. I smiled back, although less brightly, and hoped my hands were not as sweaty as the rest of my body. “I just meant that you seem a little more experienced than what this class has to offer. It’s a shame to see talent be wasted on some basic combinations.” His eyes took a quick over my body and I flushed at movement. If he looks at me like that more time, I will be internally combusting. 

“I-uh used to dance growing up.” My hands gripped my shirt as Hoseok proceeded to make eye contact. Does he have to be so nice and beautifully intimidating? A deadly combo for my poor nerves. Do I look away? Is it rude to keep eye contact? Would a wink be appropriate for a first conversation? 

“How long did you take lessons?” 

“Like 14 years maybe? My mom tried to put me in baseball like my brothers when I was 4, but after I started spitting and grabbing my pants before I batted she decided it probably wasn’t a good influence to be surrounded by all boys at home and during practice.” My lips pressed together as I pinched my face in horror. Oh god, why did I say that? Hoseok on the other hand was having a jolly good time as dropped his jaw and choked in a fit of laughter and I screwed my face shut in embarrassment. “I don’t know why I said that. Oh my god, please forget I just said that! I’m just nervous and I say stupid things when I’m nervous. I’m an idiot and I just don’t know how to shut up sometimes.” 

Hoseok continued to laugh as I covered my overheating face with my hands wishing I had grabbed Yoonjin and left before we both got wrapped in unwanted conversations. “Y-you’re too cute. Oh god, I can totally see it!” Hoseok laughed for a few more breaths before settling down into giggles. 

“Hyung...? Is everything okay?” Jeongguk shuffled over with both his and Hoseok’s bags as he glanced between Hoseok and I. 

Hoseok giggled a few more times before accepting his bag from Jeongguk. “I was just just asking if...”  Hoseok titled his head before looking back at me. “I forgot to ask for your name actually, I’m sorry.” 

Not used to having 2 out of 7 members of Jeongguk’s Pretty Posse’s attention on me made me flush even warmer. “No worries, I’m (Y/N).” 

Hoseok smiled at me before swinging his bag on his shoulder and went back to addressing Jeongguk. “I was just complimenting (Y/N) on her dancing. We could do with another dancer on the team don’t you think Jeongguk?” 

“We could?” Jeongguk bugged his eyes out a little at his hyung before throwing a confused look his way. 

Hoseok raised his eyebrows and tiled forward a little bit. “Of course, we could Gukie! Remember we had that talk earlier about adding a new member? Junhoo graduated last semester, so we don’t have anyone to fill his spot.” Jeongguk stared at Hoseok wondering who the hell Junhoo was and when this conversation happened. Hoseok starred a little harder before-Oh! “How about you let your hyung help you a little tonight.” 

“Yes! You’re totally right Hobi-hyung! (Y/N), you would love our dance team! You’d fit right in too!” Jeongguk bounced on his heels a little as he turned to me. Back on was the sweater he had been wearing earlier. Damn. The sweater paws have returned too. 

“Isn’t it all guys? How would that even work? I’m literally like half Jeongguk’s size.” My glance danced between Hoseok and Jeongguk as I bit my lip. 

“Where there is a will, there is a way (Y/N). And I’m sure you won’t pick up any bad habits this time (Y/N). We’re all mannered and hygienic, so no worries!” My jaw dropped as Hoseok poked fun at my previous story and raised his eyebrows at me. That little-

I scoffed and stomped my foot to turn his direction fully. “I wasn’t even talking about that! I can’t believe you! I let one thing slip and you use it against me!” I jutted my lips out in a slight pout as I crossed my arms. 

Jeongguk deflated a little as he watched Hoseok’s teasing glance and my pouting. “Am I missing something?”

“No!” 

“Yes!” 

My finger found a place on his chest as I leaned closer. Are those pecs…?  “Jung Hoseok, you keep your mouth shut!” Those are definitely pecs. 

“I will if you join our team.” 

My mouth fell open as I removed my finger with an inaudible gasp. “I see you play dirty, Jung.” I tsked at him before turning to Jeongguk. “Get your hyung before he embarrasses me more and I combust.” Jeongguk blinks as I give him my sole focus and nods softly, most likely lost on what’s happening. 

“So if that is a yes?” 

Defeatedly, I face Hoseok and shrug my shoulders as I grab my bag from Yoonjin as she approaches. “You’re in luck. I was actually looking to join something a little more advanced dance wise. My body misses dancing despite how old it makes my bones feel.” 

“So.. is that a yes?” Jeongguk reiterates as he bounces forward a little, eyes wide as his hair flops a little. I smile a little as my heart flops along with his hair. I give Hoseok a quick glance and will the oxygen to return to my lungs and brain at the focussed look he gives me. 

“It’s a no.” My heart sinks at Jeongguk’s sudden smile. “Not that I wouldn’t join; I totally would! It’s just I have to find a music production mentor for my Music Composition and Engineering class and I’m basically meeting with strangers every other day until one decides to take me under their wing. I really need this class to graduate and I can’t afford any breaks until I find someone.” My hands are flying everywhere as I try to make my rejection lighter on Jeongguk. 

Jeongguk nods a little and licks his lips as he gives Hoseok a quick glance. Hoseok seems to understand whatever is going on in his head and tilts his head toward him with a hard look as a warning to think before you speak, you love sick idiot. Jeongguk, with a heart often bigger than his brain, ignores his hyung and blurts out, “Yoongi-hyung is a music producer! I can introduce you to him and see if he’d be willing to mentor you.” 

Hoseok closes his eyes and drops his head forward into his hands. Dammit Jeongguk. 

I blink a few times before trying to stop my smile from spreading. “Are you sure? I mean I’d really appreciate it of course, but I know it might be a lot to ask. I’m also a total stranger, so you don’t have to at all!” My mouth suddenly feels dry as I lick my lips. “It would be really great though! Some of the guys I meet are total creeps and I don’t know how many coffees I drink everyday while one of them tries to feel me up.” I force a laugh to lessen my discomfort and hope it comes across as less awkward than I feel. 

Jeongguk looks to Hoseok after I’m done exhausting my voice and they seem to share a meaningful look before Hoseok reaches into his pocket. “Here, give me your number. Jeongguk and I will talk to Yoongi-hyung and see what we can do. He might be willing to meet with you and see if you guys ‘vibe.’” 

My eyes flick up to meet his as I smother another smile. My attempts fail and I grab his phone and giddily put in my number. “You guys are the best! I promise to join you guys if I can resolve this whole mess.” My grin widens as I think about not having to stifle through conversation after conversation every other day in some overpriced cafe with another self employed music producer as they critique every layer of my pieces. “Do guys like cookies? I’m totally baking you guys some cookies as thanks!” 

“Are you ready to go (Y/N)?” 

“Yoonjin! We’re going to be baking cookies for Hoseok and Jeongguk!” Yoonjin furrows her eyebrows as she loops her eyebrows with mine. 

“We are?”

“We are! Is chocolate chip okay?” I offer her no other explanation as I ask Jeongguk with a sweet smile. These pretty boys were coming in handy and so were my depressive episodes’ baking habits. 

“Chocolate-chip sounds great.” Jeongguk licks his lips as he feels his heart rate border an unhealthy pace. “Hyung, we-uh should probably head out and go pick up your package.” 

“My package?” Hoseok finishes adding a baseball bat and a flower emoji to his new contact before catching the look Jeongguk is sending him. “Oh! Yeah, uh, I’ll have Jeongguk text you about Yoongi-hyung. It was nice meeting you (Y/N), get home safely!” 

Yoonjin and I watch them both leave the room before facing each other. 

“What the fuck was that?” 

“I honestly have no fucking clue, but I think I’m gonna die. Please check my pulse.” Yoonjin feels at my neck and sighs. 

“Nope, still alive. Maybe next time though.” 

I re-loop our arms and pull her out of the emptying room. “Come on we have to go get Chaebin from the library before she has another aneurysm over her homework. I’ll fill you in on the way there.”

Yoonjin shrugs and follows along. “I hope you know that if this progresses into some dramatic fated love story I will be living vicariously through you.” 

“I expect nothing less.”

#bts #bts fluff #bts university au #bts x y/n #bts x reader #jungguk x reader #jungkook x reader #jhope x reader #jhope x y/n #jhope fluff #min yoongi #yoongi x reader #suga fluff #suga x reader #bts ot7 x reader #bts ot7 #ot7 x reader #ot7 #i am crying #i am so tired #please save me i wrote that at 1am like weeks at 1 am #bts fanfction #bts fic #uh #love you all #i guess now is not the time for confessions though #good night #see you when my professors decide im human to enough to not throw a 7 hour assignment at me #lmao kms #jeongguk

[msilwrites]

(A 3AM Update) A True Gentleman, Chapter 21 - A jealous husband?

A/N: Chapter 21 is up! Isaac confronts Diana, like a jealous husband! By the way, Henry, Diana's cousin face claim is 'Henry Cavill', and Sam McLean's face claim is Sam Heughan.

Oh, before I forget, if you don't like the story, please do move on to others, the internet has lots of them. Please don't hurt writers, ya? Good! so without further ado...

TWENTY-ONE

A jealous husband

"Diana!" her cousin, Henry approaches her. "That was a stellar performance!" he compliments.

Every time Henry and she are seen together, people often mistake them for siblings. The blue cold eyes, thick eyebrows, strong jawline, and dark hair were the signature that belonged to their family.

"Thank you, Henry!" was her grateful reply. "But I know why you are here for, go and lead the way!" she says, as he leads her to where her father sat. She knew what Henry approached her for. It was time for her father's interrogation and lengthy sermon.

Francis watched Henry, followed by Diana, approaching him where he sat.

"Relax Uncle..." Henry says, as he taps his uncle's shoulder, telling him to listen instead of scolding Diana. He then walks away to give the two space.

He took a deep breath before turning to his daughter. " Why don't you take a seat..." he offers, patting the empty space beside him, which she took.

"First of all, why are you singing at a wedding?" he tried to sound calm instead of being confrontational.

" I was trying to earn money to buy a 3D Printer," was her direct answer.

" Why?"

"I'm trying to build a small workshop studio, and I need a 3d printer..."

"Oh..." Francis was taken aback, he didn't expect his daughter to have such plans. "But what happened to the money you got from the sale of your old penthouse with Jesse?"

"That, I'm keeping it to the side. I plan to use it to buy real estate and most probably have the place rented for passive income. If not, I'll turn it into the workshop studio. I planned to save money, but I think I'd earn more if I were to rent the place out."

His eyes widened in disbelief, was this still the same Diana whom he met a few weeks ago? No! This Diana has ambition, plans and direction. She was actively taking charge of her life. "Wow! I did not expect that... That is actually a good plan"

Diana smiled and just nodded.

"Do you need help?" he offers, sincerely this time, without a hint of being condescending.

"Maybe? From time to time, Thank you! Da!" Diana says gratefully. "Your advice and input would be helpful from time to time" she adds.

"That was a stellar performance by the way!" Francis complements his daughter. " Those wedding songs reminds me of a time when I was..." he said trying to find the word.

"Hopeful? Yes, I did feel the same..." she admits to her father.

Francis sighs. " You know, I really did love your mother. It may have not gone well for the both of us, but not once did I regret loving her,"

Diana looks at her father, surprised at his sudden confession. Not once did her father open up to her about this issue.

"Why?!"

"Why what?"

"Da! She hurt you!" she exclaims.

"Yes, she did... and I may have done things that I shouldn't have, but what happened to us in the past, is what makes us who we are now. We grow and become wiser,"

"I guess you do have a good point..." she agrees. It made her think about her past abusive relationships, and what it thought her. Though it was terrible, it made her learn and it made her wiser.

"So how did you exactly end up here?"

"That's a really long story..."

" We have a lot of time,"

She began her story (omitting some parts of course) and told him about the music director Aedan looking for an alto-soprano which led her to where she is now.

"I see... I am glad you're able to use your classical training, anyways, when is the date of your performance?" he inquired.

"Why?"

"I want to see it of course!" he declares.

**********

"I see trees of green. Red roses too, I see them bloom. For me and you. And I think to myself, What a wonderful world..." Diana opens the dance floor for everyone, with the song 'What a wonderful world'. The strings followed, in harmony with her voice.

Couples, young and old, approached the dance floor and began dancing to the sweet tune.

The night was about to end, and she was grateful that her performance went well. Hopefully, she would also perform well with the orchestra at the outdoor theatre.

"I see friends shaking hands, saying how do you do They're really saying I love you..."

She scanned the area and saw her cousin, Henry, being surrounded by girls. She stopped her from rolling her eyes, knowing that he was a known ladies man, even since they were young. On one side was her father who seemed to be enjoying himself, chatting with others. The atmosphere felt jolly that she swore she'd try to catch up with Henry or talk some more with her father after finishing the song.

"I hear babies cry. I watch them grow. They'll learn much more than I'll ever know. And I think to myself... What a wonderful world Yes, I think to myself... What a wonderful world. Ooh, yes I think to myself... What a wonderful world..." and with the last verse, Diana closes the song and the audience applauded. She smiled and thought, that it was still somehow a wonderful world despite everything she had gone through, there was still things she was thankful for.

With a sigh, she gives a toast to the newly married couple, and then turned to the quintet and thanked them, which gained her another set of 'Thank you's coming from them.

She looks around and found the bar, wanting a cold drink, preferably a beer. It's been weeks since she had anything cold and gassy. It wouldn't hurt from time to time to have an ice-cold beer after a long day of singing.

Wasting no time, she requested a pint of ice-cold craft beer on tap from the bar-tender, and he quickly poured her one large pint, its surface bubbling.

"Good job out there, you earned it, enjoy!" the bartender says, before moving to other requests.

"Thanks!" was her response.

She looked around trying to find Henry or her father in the crowd, whilst drinking her glass. However, before she could even make a move. Her father had already gone up to the podium, about to start his 'godfather' speech and before she could even look for Henry, a handsome guy had already sat beside her and tried to engage her in a conversation.

"Hello..." was his greeting, his voice deep. She looked at the colour of his kilt's Tartan, and immediately knew which family he is from.

"Wait! your name is probably something McLean!" she declares.

"Oh! wait, are you a Scott too?! Well, I am Sam McLean..." he said, stretching his hand for a handshake which she gladly took. She felt a little confident today, and talking to a handsome man isn't so bad thing to do to pass the time. Unless he actually is an asshole otherwise. She already has an escape plan.

"You may call me, tonight..." was a flirty yet witty reply from her, causing Sam to laugh. "Or you may address me as, Diana"

"Well, Diana, that was a stellar performance throughout..." he compliments.

"Thank you! I'm glad you like it,"

"You have a very nice voice! So... may I buy you a drink?!" he offers.

"Of course! Or you could get me food since I haven't had my fill yet..." she said sheepishly, not having eaten anything yet.

"Oh! of course! what do you want to eat? I'll get it for you!" he offers.

" Cake" she implores, placing both her hands together as if praying.

"Of course, I'll be right back!" he said, immediately taking a small slice on a plate for her.

"There you go! Enjoy!" he says, pushing the small plate to her.

"Thank You, Sam!" she chuckles at the mention of his name. It was the same as the pseudonym she used when she wrote those 'love' letters to herself. "Thank you. I'd say 'God Bless you!', but it looks like He already did." was her flirtatious reply followed by a wink.

Sam bit his lips and laughed. He didn't know how to respond to that. "Thanks... I guess..." he holds his laughter, and clears her throat, "So Diana, what do you do? Besides singing? "

"I am independently impecunious..." was her answer.

Sam throws his head back laughing, knowing that he had found a hilarious person and the night will definitely not be boring.

"Enough about me, Sam! Let's talk about how attractive you are!" she adds.

Sam takes a deep breath but ended up laughing once again. " You're too funny for words!" However, before he could even say more...

"Sammy, laddie, hands-off! that is my daughter you're flirting with!" Francis chastises Sam from the podium after he finished his speech, causing everyone to turn their attention to Diana and Sam at the bar, upon finding out that she is Francis' daughter.

"Well, nice to meet you Diana!" he says. "Yikes..." and slowly backs away from her. It didn't matter how beautiful she is to him, she was Francis's Rutherford's daughter and there is no way she would want to incur her father's wrath.

"Sam? wait!" she says, perplexed at his sudden change.

**********

"Sam is an international playboy, he isn't the ideal man to date!" Henry says as he fiddled with his phone. Seated beside him inside the car is his cousin Diana, whom he ended up sending back home instead, as his Uncle, Francis, still had to stay at the wedding reception.

"Oho! You're one to talk Henry! " Diana chuckles, knowing her cousin's reputation.

"It can't be helped..." was his response.

"Should I tell the girls who chase after you, the same thing you told me?"

"It won't work... they'll chase after me more!" he declares, and both of them erupted in laughter, including their chauffeur in the front seat of the car, at how true the statement was.

"Well, aren't you afraid I'd chase Sam more?" she asks.

"You won't" was his quick reply.

"Because life has already knocked some sense out of you..." was his confident statement, aware of what Diana had gone through, all those years.

"I guess you're right," she sighs and smiles at herself, turning her attention to the view outside the car, whilst a classical piano rendition of 'Moon River' played inside the vehicle, making it a relaxing atmosphere.

"Lady Rutherford, we're here..." their chauffeur announces, and he gets out of the 'Ghost' to open the car for her.

"Thank you, Higgins!" she says, referring to Henry's chauffeur who opened the car door for her.

Henry followed after, alighting at the other side of the car. "Let me send you to your door..." he offers.

"Yes, walk me there," she says, as Henry walked beside her.

"We should have lunch sometime, eh? It's been a long time since I caught up with you!"

"Yes, we should do that" she agrees.

" If you don't mind, Mum wants to catch up with you too, can she come along?"

"Of course Aunt Minerva is more than welcome! How long has it been?!" she realizes suddenly that she had met her immediately family for years now since she started her relationship with Jesse, that was no longer the case now.

"It's set then" he declares, trying to find a spot inside his phone's calendar. "I'll set the time next weekend..."

"Alright! Well here's my door" she says turning to him to give him a quick hug.

Henry gladly returns her embrace " I'm glad you're in a better place now!" he adds, giving her shoulder a squeeze as an affirmation. "Well, I have to go, I have an early day tomorrow!"

However, before Henry could leave, the door opens to reveal Isaac, glaring at him.

"I'd normally say get a room, but this isn't a hotel" was the first thing Isaac said, the moment he opened the door, and 'caught' Diana, and some man, embracing each other in front of his door.

Henry looked at him puzzled, and when he realized that Isaac got the wrong idea about them, he released Diana from his arms. "Eww..." he grimaced and quickly turns around and gave a two-finger salute before he left "See you, Diana!"

Diana took a deep breath and suppressed the urge to burp before entering the house. She had four large pints of beer and 2 slices of cake which made her feel bloated, which made her feel regretful going on a drinking spree.

"Diana?" Isaac called, which she almost didn't notice because she was busy nursing the bloatedness.

"Mmmmm?"

"Remember you had 10 things you have to do for me?"

Diana just nods and covers her mouth, trying to burp as silent as she can. "Yes..."

"Well, I'm gonna use 1, let's have a talk..." was his stern reply.

"Dr Skovgaard? can we do this tomorrow?" she pleads, as she was bloated and tired.

"No, because I don't know where you will disappear to again..." he reprimands.

She sighs as she follows him to the dining room where a long session of scolding and preaching awaits her.

She sits down, resigned to her situation and prepared herself for Isaac's long preaching.

"Diana, you often disappear and reappear to I do not know where to, it's like I'm living with a Ghost. And when I message you, you do not respond..."

"But I do respond!" she reasons.

"Yes, two days later..."

"Oh... hehehe... I'm busy, sorry, please don't be mad at me" she apologizes, and laughs softly, struggling to also hide her drunkenness.

"Busy with what exactly??!!" he inhales sharply.

"Uhhh.... you know, things? work? earning a living?" she says a little sluggish. "You know, I gotta earn my keep..." the Scottish accent of hers, starting to come out.

"Men!?" he adds.

"Ahahaha yes... men" she giggles. "I'm not really busy with them, they're busy with me, which in turn... takes up a portion of my time, they're handsome, eye candies! So I guess it's worth the time..." she laughs.

"Unbelievable!" he throws his hands up in the air in exasperation.

"Dr Skovgaard, what are you really scolding me for?" she says, trying to suppress another burp.

He sighs " First, you disappear to who knows where and then reappear a few days later! You leave my message on 'read' and respond to them a day or two later as if I'm a weird guy you have been avoiding, and then you came home late, drunk! In the arms of another man! Do you know how I felt, do you know worried I was?!" he stressed out.

Diana stares at the tall ceiling and then laughs at the realizations " You make me sound like a stray cat who just comes home to eat!"

"I never said anything like that." he shakes his head in disapproval.

"I know... I'm just visualizing..." she adds, waving it off.

"Diana, you're not taking any of this seriously-"

She didn't know if it was drunkenness, but she felt a little brave, and without warning, got up from her seat and wrapped her arms around Isaac. "Alright, my love... I'm sorry, so sorry, I promise not to do it again!" she says, as her arms tighten around his waist.

Isaac, caught off-guard, stood there, frozen, unsure of how to react. "Diana?"

Diana just laughed, as she brought her hands to his cheeks. If anyone were to see them right now, it would look like they were a couple making up, after having a banter. "Oh, Dr Skovgaard... you sound just like a jealous husband!" she exclaims and laughs at his face. "You know I'd normally kiss you, but I'm not your beau..." she adds, tapping his cheek. "So, let's end this argument, and call it a day! I'm sorry, alright?! Good Night!" she says, kissing his cheek.

Isaac jolted in surprise due to her actions. He felt his cheeks, starting to get warm.

She releases Isaac from her embrace and sluggishly walked back upstairs, to her room, whilst singing a funny Scottish folk song and laughing halfway.

He sits down for a moment to collect himself and tried to process what had just happened. Trying to make sense of the feeling he currently has in his chest.

A/N: I have most probably made some grammatical errors, here and there... so I'd do some soft editing. I hope you enjoyed this one! I would also love to hear from you in the comments below.

#A True Gentleman #Mads Mikkelsen #Mads Mikkelsen Fan Fic #Mads Mikkelsen FanFic #Mads Mikkelsen Fan Fiction #Mads Mikkelsen FanFiction #Mads Mikkelsen x OFC #OFC #Original Female Character #Doctor! Mads #MissIronLady #MSILWRITES #MISSIRONLADYIW #Henry Cavill

[matildaofoz]

Memento Mori Pt. 2 (Michael Langdon  x Fem!Death!Reader)

Summary:  After having sent Michael on his merry way to The Church of Satan, Death believes it's time to reveal herself before Jeff and Mutt can screw up the one good plan they came up with between them with their last remaining brain cell.

°°°

Your black stiletto heals clicked along the shiny white floors in the entry hall of Kineros Robotics, your equally black cape dress swished with every calculated step you took. What could you say, you loved the color.

It had been incredibly easy to enter the building and make it past the security guards. You didn't even have to slip into their minds, they were so entranced by your outward appearance alone, eating up your words while your invisible hands logged a private meeting at the same time Jeff and Mutt were meeting with Michael into the system.

You were so incredibly seductive to mere mortals, you mused, one corner of your lip quirking upward. Admittedly, the form you chose was nothing short of show-stopping. The (Y/C/H) glossy hair and (Y/C/E) eyes, paired with a feminine figure, graceful valleys and hills only accentuated by the form fitting dress you were currently wearing was your favorite out of all them. You glanced sideways at yourself in one of the countless full floor glass panes along the corridor as you made your way to the reception. You looked so wonderfully alive and the paradox wasn't lost on you.

You turned the corner and laid eyes on the figure sitting in front of a desk, devoid of any individualism and even you couldn't shove the proverbial stick up her backside further if you tried. Your gaze leveled at the red-haired woman, you approached the podium she resided on, coming to stand right at the edge of the table. She sensed you before she saw you, yet she refused to look up from whatever menial task she was currently engrossed in.

You remained silent, looming over her, still as stone. In a fight of wills, you always won. She finally glanced up over sickeningly purple rimmed glasses and took you in.

"Who are you and how did you get up here?" her voice condescending as she mustered you. You let her eyes glide over your black ensemble, baring teeth disguised as a bright smile.

"I have an appointment with Mr. Nutter and Mr. Pfister," you replied matter-of-fact. The irony of their names wasn't lost on you.

"No, you don't. I am in charge of all their appointments and I would have remembered you," she countered, distaste on her tongue.

"Oh, but I do. The reason you weren't made aware is because it's...well, classified," you retorted punctuating the last word, slowly but surely losing your patience with the woman. You watched as her nostrils flared ever so slightly at the remark. It was too easy to rile somebody like her up. Underachieving, overzealous and desperate to be taken seriously.

"Do check your calendar. I'm sure you'll find it," you encouraged her, now smiling coyly.

With a huff, she dragged her mouse on the screen to open the calendar. A moment of confusion flitted across her face that quickly passed to anger and finally trepidation. She cleared her throat in a desperate attempt to compose herself.

"Y-yes...you are right. Ms. (Y/L/N)?" she asked, suddenly so unsure of herself. If that was all it took to shake her tough exterior, there was little hope. Quicker than you had expected, she stood, producing a cane from behind her chair.

"Please, follow me," she said, her back rigid and it wasn't from her scoliosis that you could make out beneath her pressed blazer but embarrassment.

"Lead the way," you replied, motioning her to walk in front of you with a cocked eyebrow and a smile. If only she knew who she was sassing a moment earlier. Time and place you, reminded yourself as there were more pressing matters at hand. The impending apocalypse to be exact.

"Oh, before I forget, what's your name? I didn't catch it earlier," you inquired, walking a few steps behind her, hands clasped loosely behind your back as you sauntered down the long hallway.

"I-I never told you. I am Ms. Venable," she replied, her cane missing a beat at the question. She stopped in her tracks at the fault, clearly becoming more and more flustered by your presence. Good, you thought. She may not know it, but she could feel it.

"I think I can take it from here, it's the door on the right I presume?" you asked, stopping but a foot behind her. You may have been a little shorter than her in this human form, yet your presence towered over her, like an impending thunderstorm about to break.

"Y-yes, that's the one,"she confirmed, turning around to face you. There it was, clear as day on her face. The hint of recognition. Fear crept up her arms. She didn't know why she felt it, yet you did. You had met her before, caressed her cheek with invisible fingers when she was barely 12 years old, after the third operation to fix her spine left her flat- lining on the operating table. In that state between life and death she had seen your true form and she recognized it now in a dark crevice of her mind.

"Thank you, Ms. Venable, you are too kind. I can take it from here," you chided, your eyes looking past hers and into her soul. You wouldn't claim it today, no, that day way still a ways off but you enjoyed seeing it under these circumstances nonetheless.

Wordlessly she past you, her cane shaking slightly as she stalked off back to her throne. You felt the tears prick at her eyes.

“They've been waiting for the Antichrist. You just tell them what you want and when you want it and they have to do it. They're basically like your army, dude," you heard one of the men who didn't yet know they had an impromptu meeting with you, exclaim.

You walked closer to the big glass doors, listening.

"Well what am I supposed to do with them? If magic wasn't enough to bring around the end times-“ Michael began but Mutt interrupted him.

"No, no,no ,no you don't need magic to destroy the world bro, not when you have science,“ he explained gleefully.

"And humanity," Jeff intercepted. "People suck. They're selfish and short-sighted, all anyone cares about is immediate gratification,“ Jeff continued, snorting a line of cocaine to enunciate his point. All you could do was roll your eyes. These two were so laughable cliché and couldn't help but scoff as you overheard that last tidbit of their conversation. Dumb and dumber weren't ideal but despite their coked-out brains, they had actually managed to come up with a half decent plan. Michael at the head of the Cooperative would give him disposal of everything necessary. Deciding to make your presence known, you waltzed through the open doors, clapping slowly as you walked down the steps.

"Great job boys, you really outdid yourselves. Who would've thought two snow ploughs like you even have enough brain cells left to remember how to breathe, let alone come up with a half decent plan. I'm impressed."

At your footsteps, Jeff and Mutt had perked up, alarm in their face, looking from you, to each other and to Michael who still sat leaned back in his chair with his back to you.

“Who the fuck are you?" Mutt said, a scowl on his face at the insult, glancing at Jeff who looked just as perplexed at you showing up in their lab uninvited. You came to stand beside Michael's chair, your close proximity making him look up.

"Consider me...a stakeholder," you replied matter-of-factly, your fingers grazing the beveled glass edge of the table.

"You're no stakeholder. We own the entire company down to the last urine cake'" Jeff shot back with a shit-eating grin.

“Fucking right on, bro!” Mutt yelled, fist bumping the blonde.

"Not in your abysmally piss-poor sex-doll workshop disguised as a robotics company," you scoffed, disgust in your voice. Their shoulders slumped at your clap-back.

"The Apocalypse." You looked down at Michael then, winking. He seemed less confused about why you were here and more with what you where. You could feel him trying to slither into your mind, barely scratching at the surface, a mere tickle. He had so much to learn. With a flick, you shoved him off. His eyes narrowed then, clearly not used to somebody beating him at his own game.

“Who are you?” he asked low.

“Excellent question!” you answered him, walking around the back of his chair to place your hands on the backrest. Effortlessly, you swiveled him around to face you, as you began to pace.

"How about we make this fun, a riddle perhaps?" you mused looking down at your perfectly manicured nails as you stopped in the middle of the lab, a saccharine smile on your lips.

"I am alive yet to not breathe. I am ancient yet seductive to all men. You fear me and yet you crave me in your darkest hour. I am inevitable."

Your words hung in the air and you watched their faces, the cogs turning inside their heads. Michael watched you, his icy blue eyes searching your (Y/E/C) ones. Play along, you sing-sang mentally, staring him down with a mischievous glint.

"Thanos...You're Thanos?" Jeff muttered incredulously after a while and looked at Mutt for confirmation and the little stare-off between you and Michael was broken. Your smile dropped, your eyes snapping to the blonde muppet with a deadpan expression. What had you expected from somebody with a haircut like his. Clearly too much.

"Think again, peabrain," you retorted. The lights in the room began to flicker, the halogen bulb directly above you cracking, threatening to explode. You closed your eyes, taking a deep breath to compose yourself.

Jeff gulped audibly at your display and began furiously whispering with Mutt behind his hand, both of them wracking their brain for the obvious solution. Definitely too much coke, you thought.

“Death,” Michael said and solved your little riddle with a satisfied smirk, eyes lit up. Smart boy, you praised him, unspoken. A tiny blush crept up to bloom over his marvelous cheekbones at your words of praise. Over the past couple of months he had matured, the last remaining fat in his cheeks dissolving to give way to chiseled features. He was beautiful, you had to admit but then again, he was the son of Lucifer. You'd expected nothing short of awe-inspiring.

“It wasn't hard,” he remarked, the smirk spreading over his plump lips as he lent back in the chair, knees falling outward. Man-spreading, were we, you chuckled at his cocky display. He still had so much to learn.

“So clever, hmm?” you lulled, striding up to him to stand between his knees in a blink. Michael didn't flinch at your sudden proximity.

“Perhaps a little too much for your own good, boy wonder,” you berated, bending at the waist to whisper in his ear, sending chills flitting down his spine. You lifted you hand from behind your back, your index finger coming to rest under his angular chin, tilting it up so he would look you in the eyes, bare inches from his. Jeff and Mutt, utterly flabbergasted on the other side of the table completely forgotten by both you and him.

“I think it's high time we had a little chat. After all, the last time we met, you weren't in the best shape, crying for daddy dereast on the cold forest floor, were you now?” Michael's eyes widened at your words, finally recognizing your aura from the woods. He wasn't sure what he had felt that day the visions came, ultimately leading him to the Church of Satan. He was taken aback momentarily, drawing in a deep breath, bewildered, then his face morphed into a scowl at your revelation. How dare you make him look weak in front of his followers.

“Now, now, Michael. You'll get wrinkles and you're far too pretty for that,” you remarked, looking down at him through thick lashes, your fingers smoothing over the deep lines furrowed between his brows. So soft. He really was a sight to behold, all riled up and flustered. You stood back up, smoothing over your skirt.

“I don't know about you but all this talk about the apocalypse has me positively starving. Let's continue this over dinner, shall we?” you asked without waiting for an awsner from him and sauntered over to the glass doors, your hand coming to rest on the handle as you waited, patiently, yet again, for Michael to catch on.

“Go, dude! You heard the Lady...errr Death,” Jeff urged Michael, who was taken aback by your brazen display of power. He didn't like it when people made him look weak and yet he needed to know more about you and why you were in the woods that day.

Curiousity finally killed the cat and he stood to walk up to you.

“Fine. But you owe me awsners,” he bit, hands clenched at his sides. You laughed, loud.

“I don't owe you jack shit sweety, but keep telling yourself that. Now get a move one, we are on the clock.” Without looking back at the blonde antichrist, you walked out the door, spring in your step, your heels clicking on the ground in staccato. Michael turned to look back at the two men briefly, their mouths agape before huffing and jogging after you.

°°°

Tag list:

@sexwon131​ @leatherduncan​ @rocketgirl2410​

#michael langdon x reader #michael langdon x you #michael langdon #ahs apocalypse

[selfindulgent-undertalerps]

Eclipsemare part 1

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Next

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Eclipse is sitting on the floor of his Workshop, wounds on every part of his body, blood spilling out of them.

He's too weak to get up from the floor, but he tries anyway, failing everytime.

Nightmare, curious about the strong signal of negativity, blipped into the workshop with Eclipse. "Well... what do we have here?" Nightmare grins and squats close to Eclipse.

Eclipse looks at him, He's scared "Leave me alone" his voice is weak and panicky, he tried to get up again and failed once more.

Nightmare's grin sharpens "You really have no need to worry. I'm not going to hurt you, you're much more entertaining to me alive... although I must say that spike of fear was rather delicious." He chuckles, "So no promises."

One of Nightmare's goopy tendrils reaches out and lifts Eclipse's chin and Nightmare locks eyes with him.

"If i may ask," Nightmare's singular eye socket narrows as he studies Eclipse's face "just what exactly happened to you?"

"M-my brother . . ." Everything Hurts him, a tear rolled down his cheekbone, followed by more.

The smile on Nightmare's face falters briefly and his eyelight roams over Eclipse as he assesses his wounds.

"Hmmm... It would be a waste for you to die like this." Nightmare gently scoops Eclipse up with his tentacles and sets him on an empty table.

Eclipse flinched when Nightmare touched him, he's just scared "I'm not coming back to your stupid group" his voice is still weak.

Nightmare chuckles "Do you really think you're in the position to decline my aid?" Nightmare turns from him and scans the workshop for medical supplies.

"Where do you think you could run to now?" Nightmare returned to Eclipse with the supplies

Eclipse thinks for a moment "I . . . I have no idea . . ." Eclipse is looking at Nightmare "Why should I believe that you won't hurt me like he did? Why do you even want me back? I'm useless to you"

"Contrary to popular belief, you don't gain loyal followers by near-fatally wounding them." Nightmare said flatly "As for why..." Nightmare pauses and begins carefully cleaning and bandaging Eclipse's wounds. "I have my uses."

"What uses?" Eclipse is looking at him, He's tired "I don't have that much magic, I don't have any fighting skills, the only use you could have from me is my brain and my healing magic"

Nightmare's eyelight is resolutly focused on cleaning a particularly nasty looking gash "Have you considered it is precisely your mind that I value?" Nightmare glances at Eclipse meeting making brief eye contact before quickly returning to his task.

Eclipse fell silent, He's just watching Nightmare, with an occasional flinch.

Nightmare finishes quickly with the help of his extra appendages. He rummages through the med kit for a second before procuring a pill bottle and a couple monster candies. "Can you sit up on your own or do you need assistance?"

Eclipse tried to sit up, but really couldn't without help, He's just so vulnerable now.

Nightmare leans in and wraps an arm underneath Eclipse's shoulders and lifts him slowly. A tentacle pops the cap off the bottle and another apears in front of Eclipse with a glass of water. Nightmare shakes a couple pills into his free hand and presents them to Eclipse.

"Here, take these to help with the pain."

Eclipse took the pills with a few problems, but he managed to take every pill, He's really tired, he gave Nightmare a slight sad smile, a purple blush is present on his cheekbones. Some tears are still falling from his eyesockets.

Nightmare unwraps a candy with his unoccupied hand wordlessly holding it up to Eclipse. He notices Eclipse's blush and looks away his own glow lightly dusting his cheekbones.

Eclipse took the candy, if you took a closer look at him you could notice that he looks rather feminine, his voice sounds slightly feminine too.

"So what now? Are you going to leave me here or what?" Eclipse still doesn't understand why Nightmare wants him back.

"Whether you leave here with me or not is up to you." Nightmare looks back at Eclipse, his gaze is as hard as stone.

"I did not lie about valuing you or your presence..." Nightmare cups Eclipse's face and wipes a tear track from his cheek "and I can provide you with protection" his eye narrows as he frowns "from your brother or otherwise."

Eclipse blushes more when he makes eye contact with Nightmare, He's thinking about the offer, "Wh-what w-will I h-have to d-do if I j-join you?" He's nervous, he enjoys the care, because not many cared about him in the past.

Nightmare smirks "We can discuss that later... just come with me." His eyelight searches Eclipse's face as he waits for an answer.

Eclipse thought for a moment more, a promise of protection does sound nice and he'll be close to Nightmare again "Alright . . . I'll come with you" Eclipse looks at Nightmare, a bit of happiness is visible on his face.

Nightmare smiles wide.

"Excellent! How are you feeling now? Better?" He backs up from Eclipse a little, just enough to give him some breathing room while still supporting him.

"A bit better"

"enough to stand?"

"I don't think so . . ."

Nightmare nods and leans in and places Eclipse's arm around his shoulders and wraps his own underneath Eclipse's legs, lifting him effortlessly.

Eclipse rested his head against Nightmare, He's blushing, it's like a dream came true, Nightmare is holding him, Eclipse can't really believe it, but it makes him really happy, even if there's a chance it's just a dream or something unreal.

Eclipse will need some fresh clothes, because the ones he has on now are stained with his blood and torn in multiple places. He closed his eyes, he's tired, but tries to stay awake. He's smiling slightly.

Nightmare looks at Eclipse, he's frowning slightly and his brows are pinched, but he's sporting a very visible blush.

However his frown only deepens as he assesses Eclipse's state. "Do you have any spare clothing here?"

"Well I am living here so yes"

"Perhaps you could point me in the direction as to where then?"

Eclipse pointed at the stairs that were in a hallway next to the Workshop, "upstairs, second room on left . . ."

Nightmare carried Eclipse upstairs and entered the room, he set him down on his bed gently and turned around to rummage through Eclipse's clothes and started filling a travel case he found in Eclipse's closet.

He glanced over his shoulder at Eclipse, "Is there any necessity you would like me to fetch? I'm taking you with me now."

Eclipse pointed at a small wooden box "This, please"

Nightmare gathered the box and the travel case, returned to Eclipse and picked him up. He grins at the skeleton in his arms and ported home.

Eclipse looked around slightly nervous, he really enjoys Nightmare' care, He's worried about the reactions of others when they see that he came back.

Nightmare ported into a large castle room with two doors, arched windows, and dark stone floors and walls.

The room's furnished with lavish seating, bookshelves lining a wall, a desk, a regal looking four post bed and a soft opulent rug that just tied the whole room together.

"This is where you're going to be staying. I don't want you leaving this room until I say so. I still have to announce your return and I would not trust the others until then." He places the box and travel case at the foot of Eclipse's new bed "Are you still too weak to move?"

"I think I'll manage" Eclipse looks around the room, mostly looking at the bookshelves, he's smiling, "Thank you . . . For helping me . . ."

Nightmare, who had also been examining the room looked down at Eclipse, looking so vulnerable and weak in his arms.

Nightmare's face went on a journey.

A slightly confused frown, to a soft smile, to a hardened expression that fit "If looks could kill..." and finally settling to a clearly plastered on neutral expression.

"You're most welcome."

Eclipse is thinking about what to do now, he's comfortable in Nightmare' arms, but he knows it won't last long, if he could he would want to stay like this forever.

Nightmare didn't want to let go either, but they couldn't stay like that forever and Eclipse probably needed some rest.

Nightmare walked over and set Eclipse on the bed "The bathroom is over there" Nightmare gestures to one of the doors "I recommend resting before cleaning youself up." Nightmare pauses for a quick moment "and that door" He gestured to the other "locks and is enchanted with a barrier that only you and I are able to port across. Keep it locked untill I tell you it's safe."

"Okay" Eclipse sat up "Could you give me one of the books?"

Nightmare nodded strode over to the shelves. "What would you like to read?"

"Fantasy" Eclipse is looking at him.

Nightmare selected a book and returned to Eclipse. "This one is one of my favorites, I think you will like it" He hands the book to Eclipse

"Thank you" Eclipse took the book and looked at the cover.

Nightmare nods "Is there anything else I can do for you? Shall I leave?"

"You can leave if you must . . ."

Nightmare frowns and stares at Eclipse "If you do not wish me to leave, you can always say so."

"Well I want you to stay, but if you have something to do, I don't want to stop you from doing that" Eclipse is nervous.

"I'll stay then." Nightmare smiles and walks back to the shelf and selects a book and takes a seat in one of the armchairs.

Eclipse smiled and began reading the book that Nightmare gave to him, but soon fell asleep while reading it.

Nightmare hears Eclipse snore lightly, he looks up from his book and shuts it, he sets it down on a side table and walks over to Eclipse.

Nightmare gently pries the book from Eclipse's hands, setting in on the nightstand. Nightmare pulls the sheets folded at the foot of the bed over Eclipse.

He smiles at Eclipse and softly runs a hand over his skull. Nightmare looks almost sad. Nightmare checks that the door is locked and blips out.

#eclipse #eclipse!sans #undermine #nightmare #nightmare!sans #dreamtale #undertale au #undertale alternate universe #undertale #ut #utau #au #utmv #utmv ship #eclipsemare #um #dt #fanfic #roleplay

[fourdaysofrain]

Tests of Strength

Summary: Tony helps Peter test his powers.

(This is my Irondad Fic Exchange fic for @clickbearr! The prompt I chose was, "Tony doing tests on Peter's powers (how much weight can he lift? can he stick to a non-stick pan? etc.)” I hope you like it!)

Read on AO3

“Kid, do a backflip.”

Peter looked up from his AP Chem worksheet. He was in the lab with Tony, and up until now, they had been working quietly at their own separate desks. 

“Um, sorry?” he said, a nervous laugh bubbling out of his mouth before he could stop it. 

“I’m pretty sure those spidery little ears of yours heard me the first time.” Tony walked over from his desk and leaned on a counter facing Peter. He raised a nonchalant eyebrow. “Do a backflip.”

Peter looked over to Tony and then down at the chair he was sitting in.

Tony sighed. “Obviously, stand up first.”

Duh, Peter thought as he stood up. Of course, you need to stand up before doing a backflip in Iron Man’s lab. What else would you do?

He stood up, pushed in his chair, and shuffled a few feet away from the desk. He looked at Tony again, and upon receiving a set of raised eyebrows, he jumped and did a succinct backflip, his feet landing only a few inches from where they started. He looked for a reaction from Tony, but he remained unaffected. 

“Was there a reason for that?” Peter asked. 

“Suprise single-blind study, no questions.” Tony took off his tinted glasses and set them neatly on the counter behind him. ”Close your eyes.” 

“Um, okay.” Peter scrunched his eyebrows together as he shut his eyes. “Will this hurt?”

Peter felt Tony gently put a hand on his shoulder. “Course not, I’m not a maniac.” The hand on his shoulder started to tug him away. “Come here.”

Peter let himself be led blindly around the lab. After a minute or so, they came to a stop.

“Keep your eyes closed,” Tony warned. Peter heard him step back. “Do another backflip.”

Peter moved a few steps to the right and then did another backflip. “Can I open my eyes yet?”

“Go ahead.”

He opened his eyes and looked around. Tony had led him to the workshop portion of the lab, where they were currently taking apart the engine of one of his cars in their spare time. He frowned at the oil spill he caused last week. He’d have to clean that up soon. He looked up and shrugged at Tony. 

“Had a theory. It panned out,” Tony cooly stated.

“What was your theory?”

Tony picked up a screwdriver and tossed it up in the air a few times. Peter tracked it with his eyes, watching it go up and down, the handle spinning over and under the head. 

“Close your eyes again.”

“Um, I’m not sure I like where this is going, Mr. Stark.”

Tony looked at the screwdriver and then back to Peter. Suddenly, as if just now realizing what he was about to do, he barked out a laugh and set the screwdriver down on the countertop next to him, his hand resting on top of it. 

“Right,” he said, shaking his head slightly. “Right, I’m being eccentric. Ignore me, head back to your side of the lab.”

Peter muttered something indecipherable in response. He peered at Tony from the corner of his eye as he turned around to go back to his desk. 

After a few seconds of walking with his back turned, he jerked to the left, just to see a screwdriver fly by where his head was a moment before. He spun around and gaped at Tony. 

“Holy shit, what was that for?” he sputtered. 

Tony had the decency to look sheepish. “Okay, I admit that was a little much. But check it!” He pointed at Peter. “How’d you know to move your head?” 

“I, uh--” Peter looked down at his hands, at a loss for words. “I just did.”

He couldn’t explain it. There hadn’t been any noticeable warning. It had felt like someone was pulling his head on a string to the left. He probably could have fought it, but he didn’t see any reason to. Besides, if he had fought against it, he’d probably be nursing a goose egg for the next couple of hours. 

“Enter my backflip test,” Tony started. “You moved to the right before doing your second backflip. Any reason why?”

Peter thought back to a few minutes prior. “I did,” he said. “Was that wrong?”

“No right or wrong answers in this place, kid.” Tony walked past him to pick up the screwdriver. “But you were right to move. I put you in the middle of a puddle of oil, you would have slipped if you tried to land a flip.” Peter’s eyes widened. Tony grinned sarcastically at him. “I would have caught you. Probably. Maybe not, actually. Don’t want to get any oil on my clothes.”

“No offense, Mr. Stark, but why did you do all this?” Peter decided to ignore the possible child-endangerment. He was almost 16, after all. He could handle himself. 

Tony tilted his head and gazed at Peter through relaxed eyes. For a moment, he felt as if he was one of Tony’s projects, as if he was breaking down into ones and zeroes in front of his eyes. 

“As I said, I had a theory.” Tony spun on his heel and went back to his workspace.

Peter followed him. “Hey, man,” he pestered, only feeling a little like a bothersome insect. “Can you tell me the theory?”

“Patience is a virtue, young spider,” Tony cajoled as he motioned his hands to wake up FRIDAY. 

Tony’s workspace blew up in an explosion of holograms. Once Peter’s eyes adjusted to the blue light, he could see quite a few pages about spiders open from various sources online. He skimmed a few, making out a few keywords. After a moment, he looked at Tony, waiting for an explanation. 

“You got your powers from a spider bite, obviously. So I did some research on spiders.” Tony waved through the holograms and expanded one so Peter could easily read it. “Did you know that there’s a species of spider that knows when it’ll be in danger?”

Peter’s eyes widened. “What, really?”

“Yeah, really. Some science-y combination of hormones and feeling vibration through their leg hair.” Tony paused to let Peter process. ”Given you’re wearing pants, it’s probably not the latter. But, you are filled to the brim with a hormone soup right now, so…”

Peter scrunched his nose. “Ew.”

Tony leaned back in his chair. “It’s your weird spider powers. Anyways, turns out you have it too.”

Peter sat down in a nearby chair to think about it. In his previous fights, he had avoided almost all of the hits anyone throws at him. He had always assumed that he had better instincts than the attackers. 

“That sucks, man.”

“It--” Tony looked over at him. ”It sucks?”

“Well, I mean,” Peter said, rubbing his neck. “I just thought I was really good at fighting.”

Tony barked out a laugh. “At least now we know how you were able to stay in the ring with Happy for so long.”

Peter huffed and looked away. Since May found out about Spider-Man, she had wanted him to spend more time with Tony as a sort of job shadow so he can learn how to be safer in the field. So far, he’d trained with Rhodey and Happy. Tony typically stayed out of the physical training, keeping himself in the lab most of the time. Peter got it, he did, but it’d be cool to train with Iron Man for once. 

“Which brings me to my next point,” Tony continued, closing down the holograms. “We’ve got some tests to do.”

“Tests?” he asked, voice involuntarily jumping up an octave. When he was first bit, he was worried about government scientists poking and prodding him with needles and keeping him away from his family.

Tony seemed to notice his discomfort and waved a hand noncommittally. “Nothing your weirdly-hot aunt wouldn’t approve of. Just some standard measurements. Lift a few weights, leap over a few tall buildings in a single bound, the usual.”

“Okay.” Peter snorted. “Yeah, sure. I mean, it’d be cool to know all that anyway, so…” He trailed off and looked up at Tony. “Did you wanna do it now?”

“Yeah.” Tony grabbed his tinted glasses and put them back on in one smooth move. “Unless you’ve got something better to do?”

Peter gave his AP Chemistry homework a forlorn glance. “Nah, I’m-- I’m pretty free. Nothing going on right now.”

“Great,” Tony said, clapping his hands together. “Let’s head downstairs.”

Peter followed Tony out of the lab and into the nearby elevator. He’d been to the gym a few times before, mainly to train with Happy. When he trained with Rhodey, they’d normally stay outside. He was excited to finally visit the gym with Tony, some childish part of him still wanting to show off. He tried to get his nerves under control as the elevator slowly lowered. 

Finally, the elevator doors opened to the gym. There were machines lining the walls. Some of them looked familiar to Peter: there was a line of treadmills to his left, and some of those benchpress things lining the wall across from him. Most of the machines just seemed like weird chairs or benches that were slightly warped. 

“Don’t worry about the machines,” Tony said, waving his hand at the various machinery. “They’d all be too easy for you.”

“Oh, yeah.” Peter ran his hand along one of the nearby weights. It was labeled 40 pounds. “This is easy. I lift weights all the time.” 

He shook his fingers off the weight when they stuck nervously to the side of it. He smiled sheepishly at Tony, who was looking at him with a quirked brow. 

“Cap’s old stuff is over here.” He motioned for Peter to follow him to the back corner. “We renovated recently, so he’s in the corner of shame for the moment. Figure it’s a good enough place to start.” He patted one of the punching bags that looked like it belonged in an arcade. “This one will give us a readout of how strong your punches are. Go ahead and hit it.”

Tony stepped back, giving Peter ample space to hit the punching bag. He shifted his weight from side to side and shook his right hand. He punched it casually. The bag didn’t even move.

Tony looked at the side of the machine and clicked his tongue. “113 pounds of force. Forget to eat your spinach?”

Peter glared at him half-heartedly out of the corner of his eye. He punched it again with a bit more force. 

“780. Now we’re getting into enhanced range, kid. Give it another shot, come on!”

Peter gritted his teeth and punched the bag with all his force. The bag split around his knuckles and he ended up with his arm halfway submerged in sand and fabric. He looked over at Tony and raised his eyebrows. Tony rubbed his forehead and checked the side of the machine. 

“Error.” Tony sucked air through his teeth sharply. “Guess that settles that.” He looked away and scratched his temple. “Can’t even remember what the max was.”

Peter pulled his arm out of the bag and tried not to grimace as a few grains of sand fell to the ground. 

“Sorry, Mr. Stark. I didn’t mean to, uh…” He trailed off as he looked at the gaping hole in the punching bag. He cleared his throat. “Do that. That’s… my bad.”

“Y’know what, kid?” Tony chuckled. “It was about time that thing kicked it. Don’t worry about it.”

Peter felt his cheeks flush as he smiled awkwardly back. “Alright. Okay, uh-- What else did you want to test?”

“What do you want to find out?”

Peter thought back to when he tried to test his powers on his own, the extent of which was done secretly in the bathroom. He knew he was strong enough to break the sink and sticky enough to stick to the medicine cabinet, but that was about it. He was enhanced enough to survive all of his fights up till now, at least. 

“Um,” he said after thinking for a moment. “I kinda want to know what I can stick to?”

Tony smirked. “What a coincidence, kid. So do I.”

“Should I just start testing things?” Peter asked, hand halfway to the nearby wall. 

“Why not?” he replied. “But let’s do stuff you haven’t tried yet. Walls are old hat.”

Tony patted his pockets and pulled out his phone from his pants, holding it out towards Peter with his head tilted slightly. 

Peter’s eyes widened. “You want me to stick to your phone?”

“No, I want you to take a selfie,” Tony quipped. 

When Peter didn’t make a move to grab the phone, Tony grabbed his hand and slapped the phone in his palm, screen down. 

“Okay, now turn your hand upside down without letting the phone fall.”

Peter clutched the phone with his fingers. “Do you not have a phone case?”

“Look who you’re talking to,” Tony said. “If I crack my phone screen, I can just buy a new Apple store.”

“Oh, okay. Cool.” 

Peter’s grip slightly loosened as he tried not to think about his own phone screen that looked more like a spider-web than a piece of glass. He flipped the phone over in his hand subconsciously, which caused the phone to turn on. The lock screen background made him smile. It was a picture of Pepper, taken in Tony’s workshop. Pepper was holding one of the nanotech units in front of her chest with one hand with her other arm stuck towards the camera with the palm out. She looked like she was in the middle of laughing. 

It was kind of weird to think about what Tony and Pepper did while they were alone, but apparently it involved Pepper making fun of him while he was working on his suits. It was sweet, Peter thought. He knew that Tony and Pepper weren’t together during the trip to Germany, but they announced their engagement just a few weeks ago. It was good to see they had fun together. Or maybe he was reading too much into a phone lock screen. But Tony seemed much happier now than when they first met, at least from his see-for-a-few-hours-every-week-or-so perspective. 

“Have you met Pep yet?” Tony asked, following Peter’s line of sight. 

“Uh, no. No, not yet.”

Tony smiled. “I can introduce you next time you’re both in the same building. Should happen eventually.” His focus went back to the task at hand. “Don’t be embarrassed if it slides around. Happens to the best of us.”

Peter screwed up his face and focused on sticking. It makes his head hurt if he thinks about it too much; the sticking is much easier when it’s done instinctually, when it’s either stick or die. In this case, it’s either stick or maybe break Iron Man’s personal phone, which has almost the same effect. He slowly turned his hand upside down and splayed out his fingers, leaving the phone remaining flush with his palm against all odds. 

Tony poked the phone. It stuck. 

“Alright, kid, keep sticking. I’m going to mess with it.”

Peter snorted as Tony kept trying to wiggle the phone. “This is glass. Glass is sheer. It should be sliding around.”

“I don’t know, man.” Peter flipped his hand back over and held the phone out to Tony. “I’m just sticky.”

Tony took the phone with a quick snap of his wrist and slid it back in his pocket. “That’s the fun part: you’re not sticky. It must be some…” He wiggled his fingers off to the side. “Electrostatic… Something.”

“I have it on my feet too,” Peter added helpfully. 

Tony sighed and motioned to the window behind him. “Do your thing.”

Peter walked past Tony to reach the window. He looked over his shoulder once, and then crawled up the window. He stood up straight, effectively parallel with Tony’s line of sight. Tony walked up and pushed his shoulder. He didn’t move. 

“I give up,” he said. “You’re even wearing shoes! This is worse than Thor’s hammer.”

Peter snorted and turned his neck to make eye contact with Tony. He said in a deep, gravelly voice, “Whosoever pushes this spider, if they be worthy, shall possess the power of Spider-Man.”

Tony sighed again. His lungs would probably fall out by the end of this day. “Alright. Day one results: super strong, super sticky. Anything else?”

“Um…” Peter cringed as his stomach growled. “Can we test my metabolism?”

Tony checked his watch and huffed. “Time flies. Sure, kid. What do you eat these days, pizza? Dead flies?”

“Chinese?” Peter countered, lowering himself down to the ground and wiping his hands on his jeans. 

“Here, I’ll show you where we keep the takeout menus.”

Tony led Peter back to the elevators. They made their way to the kitchen area and ordered some dinner without any trouble. After a bit of chatting, Tony went down to the entrance to the compound to pick up the take-out. He returned promptly, and they started to chow down. 

After a few minutes of silence, Peter got hit in the head by a chopstick. He gasped and looked up to Tony, who was shamelessly acting as if nothing happened. 

“Again?”

“Just testing your…” Tony snapped his fingers as he tried to come up with a name. “Spider hormones. Turns out you’re vulnerable while you’re eating.”

Peter picked up the chopstick. “I was in the middle of chewing, man!”

He put the chopstick in the middle of his palm and flipped his hand upside down, showing off a little. Tony tried to nonchalantly tug it off, but it was stuck. 

“Very funny. This place is filled with forks, I don’t need that.” Nonetheless, he was still trying to get his chopstick back. “Alright, please?” 

At the magic word, Peter unstuck from the chopstick. Tony jolted back slightly at the sudden change of resistance. 

“Mess with the spider, you get the webs,” Peter retorted. 

Tony laughed. “Remind me to not get on your bad side.”

When Peter left the table to throw away his empty box, he eyed the pans hanging on the kitchen wall. 

“Are these pans non-stick?” he called over his shoulder. 

“Pretty sure. No one uses them anymore, so they might be a bit dusty.” Tony trailed behind him and leaned on the wall. “Why, still hungry? I can cook up a mean omelet.”

Peter stuck his hand to the center of one of the pans and pulled it off the rack. He looked at Tony, the pan flush with his hand. 

“Not very non-stick after all.” 

Tony quirked an eyebrow. “You better not get spider-fingerprints on everything now.” He warily watched as Peter eyed the ceiling. “Or spider-footprints on anything you can’t clean up.”

Peter sighed and mumbled something that almost sounded like arachnophobe. Tony threw his other chopstick at him, which he caught with his free hand without looking. He threw it back at Tony, who fumbled with it before getting a solid grasp. 

“Elder abuse, I’m telling your aunt,” Tony threatened. 

Peter laughed. “She’d be on my side.”

“You Parkers.” Tony sniffed theatrically. “Always ganging up on me.”

Peter smirked and put the pan back on the rack. 

It was a fun day, he thought. And then he stuck his hand to his phone, just because he could. 

Tag List: @ironfamjam @addi-is-amazing @mysterio-is-a-little-bitch @wellplacedbanana @night0seven @unfathomable-universe​ @bibbidi-bobbity-booyah @spideynamu 

#this was a day late thats my b! #but bone app the teeth nonetheless #art writes #spiderman #spider-man #iron man #irondad #iron dad #mcu #marvel #wooo #not super confident about this one fellas #irondadficexchange