#man i WISH i was getting the shit kicked out of me. more bearable then all this DAMN paperwork god FUCKING damn it conan

[sunriseovergotham]

esha clinging to his morals like a buoy in the storm

[kashimos-hajime]

homestretch of the hard times | g.t.

summary: the eve days of your potential death kinda spurns things to move forward: for takemura, it means confessions. for you, it means making exceptions. and drinks. ‘cause takemura’s the pickiest fucking eater you’ve ever met.

WARNINGS: small spoilers for act 1 of cyberpunk 2077 and references to non-spoiler texts between takemura and v, just fluff, small angst, swearing, idk what else is going on so if there are actual spoilers thats completely coincedental ndlnskfsldnf pairing: goro takemura x fem!street-kid!v word count: 2.6k

a/n: so cdpr did us dirty for not allowing us to romance him (to my knowledge) but he has my mind, heart and everything else so :) listened to the bones by maren morris w/ hozier

part of the tales of a two-bit thief series

It starts with something straight out of a romance movie: A car crash, saving each other’s lives (well, him more than you) and “Wait, V, I need you.”

You don’t know how you got here, to be precise. There were a chain of events, some absolutely stand up fucking moments on your part, and just… fuckery. So much fuckery and life went to shit.

All you know is the ticking time bomb’s only ticking louder and at this point, the only thing that can silence it at all is the man beside you. Not even the meds Misty gave you can help you now. 

You’re sitting in his car because you called him and he had answered and now… now they’re on one of the off ramps looking over Night City like they own the fucking place.

Maybe you did, once. Ha, maybe back when everything seemed more job to job and not life to life. For a moment, maybe you were in the big leagues.

Takemura doesn’t say anything, even though you can tell he wants to. His hair still pulled into that man bun, collared shirt with not a single wrinkle in sight. Weird how he never looks out of place, not really. Not even with the car crash. Shit, he always looked good.

You think you’re actually gonna miss that. That one semblance of someone being put together that gave you the hope that maybe you could stick it too.

You think you’re gonna miss a lot of things about him—from his stupid complaints about the food here, to his stupid random philosophy texts in the day, to the fact that he eats the ramen you buy anyway without complaint, even though it’ll never compare to what he has in Japan.

The thought that counts.

They don’t even have the radio on, just the dim lights of the car, a window rolled down. You don’t smoke but you feel like you should be tapping a cig either way. You haven’t had the time to just fucking breathe—not with Silverhand breathing down your neck, corpo rats swarming you on all sides. 

Everyone wants a piece of you, it feels like. 

You look at Takemura.

Almost everyone.

“Thank you,” you tell him quietly, with difficulty. It’s hard to get through your words without thinking Silverhand’s behind your back, mocking you. You’re so fucking tired. “It hasn’t been easy.”

He doesn’t respond. He’s too busy looking at one of the cars nearly collide with a pedestrian. You could’ve laughed. You used to make fun of the shitty drivers in Night City, knowing full well you’re one of them.

You get chased by a couple of cops, rules start to bend.

You used to wonder why you never left.

Then, you actually left, and you realized that hell, you can take the person out of Night City—can’t take the Night City out of a person.

Atlanta fucking sucked, but maybe you should’ve stayed there.

But then, a tiny voice whispers as you look out the window to the fresh night wind. You never would’ve met him.

It’s funny, you think. To come back and get a brain tumour in the shape of a rocker who can’t fucking touch anyone who loves him, who he loved, only for you to fall in love with a corpo you can’t fucking touch at all because… because there is no time left. It just isn’t fair.

“I used to be a corpo kid,” you confess, looking at him with a wry smile again. That catches his attention. He looks at you with those eyes that scrutinize you, interrogate you, peel you apart to your bare essentials and you have to look away before you can’t control your face anymore. God fucking damn it. “Not when it mattered, obviously, but… I remember what it was like. Grew up hating every single on of them.”

“Your parents were Arasaka?”

“Mhm. Security division.” It’s like your eyes are magnetic to his because when you blink, you find yourself regarding him again. Your fingers play at your lips. “Counterintelligence. I was supposed to go into that, too. Big dreams.” 

“I see.”

“Yeah, then my parents were tried for treason and murdered, so I got thrown out. That’s it.” Your hand falls away. You pick at the chipped nail polish on your thumb. “Never told anyone that. ‘Cept…” Jackie. Well, he’s fucking dead, now. “‘Cept you, now, I guess. Guess some corpos aren’t so bad.”

The corner of his mouth pinches up like he’s flattered and you can’t help the pleased warmth spreading through your chest. 

“Should I be honoured I am one of the few exceptions you have made?”

“Well, I don’t make exceptions often, so…” You grin slyly. He looks away just as you catch a flash of his smile growing. It’s a nice smile. You wish you saw it more often before the end of the road. Maybe it’s one of the regrets you have, too. “Yeah, maybe you should feel special.”

“Hm.”

“C’mon, Takemura. Humour the walking dead, yeah?” You stretch against the leather of his car seat with a pleased sound. “I’m spending what time I have left with who I want to. Can’t ask for much better than that.” A quiet hangs in the air as you melt against the black leather and you look at Takemura who’s staring at the wheel with an intensity you don’t often see. It makes your gut squirm. 

“And I? I am one of those people?”

You lean on one hip and look at him, bending a knee and resting an ankle on your thigh. He looks at you with an uncertainty—an uncertainty you’re sure echoes in your eyes.

It was business, then it wasn’t. Maybe it never was.

“Yeah. You’re one of the few on the short list.”

“Exceptions again.”

You laugh. “Yeah. You’re an exception to most things, I think. Weird, that.”

“How so?”

“Ah, I don’t know. I’ve had family—still do, ones that matter, you know. Just… no one ever like you, Takemura. Drives me crazy.”

“The feeling is mutual. Your mocking brings you onto thin ice, V.” His fingers tap against the steering wheel. The engine’s off so it seems more fidgety than anything. Weird. You never noticed he fidgeted before. Maybe he’s nervous?

About what?

“I must ask you something.”

“Shoot.”

“If you have a future, what do you see for yourself?”

Your eyebrows shoot up. You frown and pick at your flecking nail polish even more, looking at your hand and focusing more on that so you don’t have to answer your question. His eyes burn into you and you swallow, trying not to act like you haven’t thought, in regret, at night, about a hundred million fucking times the possibilities they could’ve had together.

You’re not about to say all that.

Instead: “Settling down with the family. Mama Welles, people at the Coyote.” You blatantly don’t look at him when you add, “Others. This has been enough action for a lifetime.” You rest your hands on your lap and chance a glimpse at him. He’s looking away from you, out the window on his side, and you shift in your seat. “How about you? You must’ve… had dreams. Before all this shit went down. You make it out of here and then what?”

When he looks at you, your heart nearly cracks at the sadness in his eyes. He smiles, but there is no strength, and his eyes are darker than the night surrounding them.

“I would go to the countryside, just as I’ve always wanted. Leave this, all of this, behind. Rural Japan is beautiful, so a small town would suffice where everyone knows everyone. We do favours for one another. It is community. Nothing like here.” His lips pull into a tiny frown. “When I was a younger man, I wanted a daughter,” is all he says. “I believe I could have been a great father, so perhaps… perhaps one day.”

“A daughter? Not a son?” you ask curiously, and he almost chuckles. You can’t help the faint smile on your face. 

“If my daughter grew up anything like her mother,” he explains with a slight glance towards you, “I would have more hope than a son who was like me.”

You frown.  “You’re not a bad man, Takemura. Any son like you—with your code of honour, your shitty selfie skills—no one’s gotta a chance.”

He merely scoffs in response. Again, with the you mocking him. It’s a wonder he lets you.

“But really, that sounds… nice. A daughter, a wife.” You drum your fingers against your knee and his eyes dart to yours, click like they were always destined to meet, and your lips part. Words stall on your tongue and you want to speak but in the dim lights, you are lost in the darkness of his eyes. Something comes, something goes, and you barely croak out, “Whoever marries you will have to deal with so much of your shit that the kids have to turn out alright. The complaining, for one. Picky eater for another.”

This time, he does chuckle and you swallow a breath at the sound. “Dealing with it comes with practice, V.”

“Is that so?”

“Shouldn’t you know?”

“I—“ For once, no funny retort, no witty quip shoots out of your mouth, and you realize that there is an implication—an intricate dance where they’re struggling not to step on each other’s toes and nearly failing at every turn, yet somehow, it works because they’re dancing, and it’s quiet, and it’s… it’s peaceful.

Shit, you’re getting a load of this. When’d you become a poet?

“I guess I should know,” you finally say. “Never understood why I got so giddy whenever I saw your texts, you know, seein’ your name flash on my phone.” You laugh bitterly. “Guess I know why, now.” He’s silent and you don’t look at him. You look at the dashboard where you’ve kicked your feet up a dozen times, the glove compartment that still has your sunglasses inside.

Shit.

“Thank you for everything. Shit’s a little… more bearable, I guess. When you’re around, that is.” The words come out stilted, awkward, but your heart is so heavy in your throat you feel like you’re going to choke. You look into your lap, your whole body incinerating under what you’re sure is the most judgemental glare of your life and you just hope to fucking God this man says something, does something.

Holy shit. You’re going to die of embarrassment. Didn’t even think that was possible.

Then, a loud sigh. A sigh you’ve heard often enough beside you right before a gunfight or when he has to eat the food you ordered for him or even the nights when they’re exhausted, bruised, and just plain tired right before going to sleep where they lay on the floor.

It’s exasperated, a how on earth did we get here, a very annoyed again, you’re so fucking stupid, and you’re still running through your list on what this particular sigh can mean before a hand gently takes hold of yours. Your eyes dart to his, blinking and he stares at you like you’ve just stabbed him. Your heart is fucking racing in your chest, pounding like thunder. His fingers fold over and you realize, as you interlace fingers, that his skin is burning at your touch. 

Or maybe, it’s the other way around.

They sit there in silence, not looking at one another, looking out windows, parts of the car, everything but each other, and when he squeezes your hand, you close your eyes and swallow your heart.

It’s over.

“V,” he murmurs, voice so deathly quiet and raspy in your ears that your gut clenches. You turn to watch him. “Tell me that you will not stop fighting.” You swallow your breath as his eyes flicker from your own to your parted lips. He inhales quietly and you swear you can feel his heartbeat pulsing in his fingers in your grip. “That this is not all for nothing.”

“It isn’t.“

“Then I was right.” His eyes flutter back to your gaze and he tilts his head. Wisps of fine hair escaping his manbun brush over his nose and you reach up on your own accord, swiping it behind your ear. You lean over the console, your elbow digging into the leather and, tentatively, you trail your fingers down his jaw, hold his face in your hand. “I am… what is that phrase you use so often?”

“SNAFU?”

“No.”

“Assblasted.”

“No.”

“Royally fucked?”

“We need to expand your vocabulary.” You smile nefariously as his other hand reaches for your chin. He pinches it lightly, thumb stretching up to brush over your lips and your face freezes at his touch. “But yes. Royally fucked. I wasn’t wrong when I said I needed you.”

“I think that meant a whole something else back then,” you whisper rawly and he smiles sombrely. His thumb leaves your mouth to brush your cheek, his eyes fixing on you as if he’s trying to memorize aspects of your face: the arch of your nose, the bow of your smile, the way your brow wrinkles. “Meant more business-like.”

“I did. And now, I believe the terms have changed.” He arches an eyebrow. “Are we at a mutual understanding, V?”

“Yes.” And I hate that we are. Your hand along his jaw lifts to wrap around his wrist. “Consider that feeling mutual, yeah? It goes both ways.”

“I will.” Another small smile graces his lips. It makes him look younger every time and you rub your thumb over the back of his hand. 

“Do you wanna grab something to eat before you drive me back home for some shuteye?”

“The choices here are atrocious, V.”

“Then, drinks,” you propose, letting go of his wrist. He lets go of your chin, and turning to face the front, you kick up your feet on his dash. He stares at you for a moment then sighs because there really isn’t anything he can do about it. Nor, do you think, he wants to. You squeeze his hand and send him a silly smile. “How about drinks? I wasn’t hungry anyway.”

“Are you paying?”

You eye him incredulously. “Who do you take me for? You?”

He snorts and the engine roars to life with a flick of his wrist. He grabs the wheel dominantly and you swallow at the way his fingers wrap around the handle. “The Afterlife, then?”

“Or, we could make it rustic.” You pull his hand into your lap playfully and run a thumb over his knuckles. His eyes flit over and you send him a smirk. “I know Mama Welles doesn’t like you, but the Coyote’s serving cheap. Happen to like me there.” He begins to pull out of their little overhang and he nudges their joined hands into your abdomen, silently telling you to buckle in. Rolling your eyes, you mumble out a ‘boomer’ underneath your breath before letting go of him and following orders.

He settles a hand on your thigh and squeezes. You hang an arm out the window. 

The wind’s running through the car, he has the radio on low, and they’re easing through onto the highway.

Your chest is lighter than a feather, mind’s quieter than a ghost.

You’ve seen scarier deaths, dealt a lot more. You know that silence is a bigger killer than most bullets.

But here you are now…

“I’m changing this,” Takemura says. “This music is terrible.”

…Shit, maybe life isn’t so bad, ending the way it is.

[fanmoose12]

Nifa Strikes Back

Levi hates St. Valentine’s Day with burning passion. The only thing that makes this holiday somewhat bearable to him is a little tradition he shares with his best friend Hange. But after hearing the news that Hange is going to skip the years-long ritual to go on a date with someone else, Levi is faced with conflicting and severely confusing feelings. 

thanks @innocent-ghost-demon for the idea! (i’m sorry it took me so long to actually write it lmao)

In Levi's personal opinion, St. Valentine's Day was the worst holiday of them all. It was meaningless and explorative and it served no other purpose than to fill the pockets of flowers and chocolate sellers. Levi hated it with burning passion, getting groceries in the weeks leading to the forsaken holiday was the cruelest torture, as he was immensely annoyed by big pink hearts and cute figurines with naked babies on display. It was almost impossible for him not to gag.

The only thing that quelled his hatred towards this day was a small tradition he shared with his best friend Hange. It had started years ago, when they were still in college. Hange's boyfriend had dumped her - she was heartbroken and upset, while Levi was furious and ready to go, find that bastard and beat the shit out of him for making Hange cry. Naturally, as college students, they knew only one way to deal with that kind of complicated feelings - get absolutely wasted at the local bar. Next morning they woke up with the worst hangovers of their lives and vowed to never repeat the same mistake.

But next year, Hange was rejected by a girl she wanted to ask on a date, and, like a good friend he was, Levi once again offered his shoulder for Hange to cry on. And once again they've found themselves clinging to each other as they shakily stumbled towards their dorm.

They got drunk that year again. And that's what they've been doing every year after that.

It was the only thing that got Levi through the awful holiday. Because of that, he was actually looking forward to it.

***

"Hey, four-eyes," Levi looked over the wall that separated their cubicles, throwing a small piece of paper to get Hange's attention. "Is your place as messy as usual? Or have you cleaned it for the occasion?"

"Huh?" Hange raised her eyes from a screen, pushing the glasses up her nose. "What do you mean?"

Another paper was thrown at Hange. This one landed on her lap.

"The shitty holiday, Hange. It's this weekend. So are we going to your place of mine?"

"Oh," Hange raised her hand, rubbing her neck. "About that..."

Levi frowned, narrowing his eyes in suspicion. Did he hear a twinge of hesitation in Hange's voice? That was unusual. What could it mean?

"I can't go this year."

His frown turned into a scowl. "Why the fuck not?"

"I have a date."

Levi blinked. Hange's words... surprised him. And more than that, his own reaction surprised him. He felt displeased, but not just that. He was angry, he was disappointed. He was sad?

"You're going on a date?" he asked, cursing the weakness that colored his voice. What was going on with him?

"Yeah, sorry," Hange gave him an apologetic smile. "With all this work, I forgot to tell you about it."

"That's fine," he answered, even though it wasn't fine. Hange was going on a date, and Levi wasn't fine with it. Why wasn't he? Hange was his best friend, he was supposed to feel happy for her, right? Did it mean that he was a bad friend?

No, Levi decided. He wasn't a bad friend, he was a good one. He was worried about Hange, he had seen her get hurt by someone else, and he simply didn't wish to repeat the experience.

"Who is your date?"

Was it someone from the office, he wondered. If it was their co-worker, that'd be good, Levi could keep an eye on them then. But what if they start dating? Would Hange stop spending her lunch-breaks with him? Would she go and bother someone else if she's bored? Would she pay less attention to him?

Levi shot that train of thought as quickly as it appeared. He didn’t like thinking about it. It made him feel weird. It made him upset.

"It's Nifa's cousin, she set us up. I don't know the guy yet," Hange shrugged. "But if he's at least half as cute as Nifa, then it's worth a shot, eh?"

She looked at him then, tilting her head and smiling. It was Levi's cue to congratulate her and wish her luck. Or express his pity towards the guy. Instead there was an unpleasant, ugly feeling inside him. Hange broke their years-long tradition. To go on a date. With someone else.

And it pissed him off.

"Levi?" Hange reached out to him, grasping the sleeve of his jacket with her fingers. "Are you alright? You look a bit weird. Are you upset that we won't be hanging out this year? I'm sorry about that, I'll make it up to you."

"You don't have to," he grunted, shaking Hange's hand off. He turned around, feeling the acute need to leave. The concern on Hange’s face was annoying him. "Have fun on your date and don't worry about me. I wasn't looking forward to our get-together anyway."

*** It took Levi two days to admit his own weakness.

He promised to himself to ignore Hange. To forget about her stupid date and stupid feelings it had provoked in him.

But then he saw Nifa alone in the hallway and he just had to ask.

He approached the girl, stopping just behind her shoulder. "Your cousin," his rough, low voice made Nifa jump. She didn't hear him walk up to her. "Is he a good man?"

Despite a scare Levi just gave her, Nifa's lips lifted into a smug smirk. She looked at Levi, observing him closely. His face was as blank as always, but his shoulders were uncharacteristically tight and his eyes showed even more annoyance than usual.

Her plan was working.

"Cousin Greg?" Nifa twirled a lock of hair around her finger. "He's great! I think Hange would get along with him!"

Cousin Greg wasn't that great actually. In fact, he was quite boring and very annoying. But Nifa wanted to help her superiors admit their feelings for each other and Greg owed her a favor after that time when she had covered for him during the grannies' birthday. Hange didn't have to like him. In fact, if she starts liking him, it'd destroy all of Nifa's plans.

Hange didn't have to like Greg. And Levi didn't have to like the fact that Hange was going on a date with him.

Evidently, the most important part of her plan already proved to be a success.

"He won't hurt four-eyes, right?" Levi asked, a shadow of worry passing through his eyes.

"He won't," Nifa promised with a serious face. Inside, however, she could barely contain herself. Levi was so concerned! It was so cute! Nifa needed to share these news with someone, and quick.

"Alright," Levi pressed his lips together and nodded. "Thanks." He added before walking away, his head bowed and shoulders slumped.

As she watched him go, Nifa's heart constricted painfully. Levi looked so miserable, just like a kicked puppy. She actually felt bad for him.

It was for his own good, she had to remind herself. She was doing him a favor. Levi, no, Hange too - both of them - will later thank her for this. She was doing a right thing.

Nifa repeated these words a couple of times and then rushed over to the break room, where she knew she would most surely find Moblit. Her best friend would be thrilled to hear about her success. 

*** He wasn't brooding, he told himself as he threw another disgustingly sweet candy in his mouth.

He wasn't sulking, Levi thought, as he put the glass of wine to his lips. It was awful. He had been drinking this brand of wine for years, but he never noticed how mawkish it was. Hange’s taste in wine was as horrible as her taste in romantic partners.

He didn't care about Hange and her stupid date, Levi tried to convince himself, paying only half of his attention to the movie.

On his TV screen Harry ran away from Sally after their first night together, and Levi scoffed at his stupidity. It was obvious they're in love with each other, why couldn’t they just admit it? They were both idiots and this movie was stupid, Levi decided. Why Hange liked it so much was beyond him.

***

Harry and Sally started arguing at the wedding, when Levi's phone started ringing. He made no move to get up and pick it. It couldn't be Hange calling, because she was on a date. And if that was Erwin, informing him of some emergency at work, he could kindly go and fuck himself. It was Levi's day-off and he was allowed to be as miserable as he wanted in the coziness of his apartment.

After a few seconds his phone fell silent, but before Levi could sigh with relief and continue watching the movie, he heard a few pings that announced that he had received a couple of messages. Erwin wasn't one for texting, and that got Levi wondering who was trying to get into contact with him.

Was it Petra, inviting him to a bar with others from their office?

Or, maybe, that was Yeager or any of his friends, wishing him a happy holiday?

Either way, Levi decided to ignore the messages too. If it was Petra, she'd understand his desire to be left alone. And if the messages were from any of their interns, then Levi most certainly didn't want to deal with that. It was bad enough they'd given him chocolate at work. It made him feel like he was a high school teacher, not a partner of the law firm.

He shouldn’t support this kind of behavior, Levi decided and returned his attention to the movie. 

*** Levi was halfway through a bottle of wine and Harry was ready to confess to Sally.

Fucking finally, he thought, pouring himself more wine. What kind of idiots waste twelve years denying the feelings they have for each other? Just when Harry was going to say those three little words, someone knocked on Levi's front door. With glass of wine still lifted to his lips, Levi paused the movie and stared at the door, wondering who could be fearless enough to visit him at ten pm.

As he continued to sit and ponder on it, the initially soft knocks turned into vicious bangs.

Cursing at the impatient idiot, Levi put the glass down and got to his feet, marching to the door with a glare on his face.

He threw the door open and— froze, blinking in surprise.

Hange stood on a threshold, holding a bottle of wine in her hands and wearing a wide grin on her lips.

"Will you be my Valentine?"

Levi bit his cheek to keep himself from blurting out 'yes'.

"What happened to your other one?" he asked instead, putting on a mask of cold indifference.

"Ah," she ruffled her hair. "He was actually boring as hell. Not even half as cute as Nifa," she shrugged. "I guess she's the sole owner of all adorable genes in their family."

Levi scoffed, plucking his lips. He would not give Hange the satisfaction of laughing at her lame joke. "Your date turned out to be a moron, so what? You've decided to come and bother me?"

"Yeah? Would you let me in or not?"

Levi knew he could put up a fight. He could tell Hange how annoying and inconsiderate she was. But he also knew that it would result in absolutely nothing. Hange would still get what she wants. He would still let her get what she wants. Because in all the years of their friendship he hadn't learned how to say no to her.

So with an irritated tsk and a shake of his head, Levi took a step back, allowing Hange to come inside.

"Did you bring something, except wine?" he asked while Hange was busy taking off her shoes.

"Yes!" Hange passed him her handbag.

Levi opened, finding chocolate inside. Lots of chocolate. Lots and lots of chocolate.

"Four-eyes. Did you rob the candy shop?" he inquired dryly.

"No!" Hange snickered. "These are gifts."

Levi had received chocolate too. His collection wasn't quite as vast as Hange's, though.

"Are all of these from brats?"

"Some are from my team. Where's your chocolate, by the way? If I received so many, I can't even imagine how much you got."

"It seems like this year you're more popular than me," Levi pointed at only a couple of box of chocolates on his coffee table.

Hange's face fell after his words. She even opened her mouth, probably with the intent to apologize or, god forbid, comfort him. Levi scowled, silently telling Hange the misplaced pity to herself. He didn't really care about such trivial matters.

And he was more than happy to find out how well-loved Hange was. She deserved nothing less than that after all.

"Don't just stand there," he snapped, when Hange continued to stare at him without saying anything or even moving.

Hange lifted the corners of her lips and hurried after Levi to the living room.

"Oh!" as soon as she saw what was on the TV screen, she clasped her hands in delight. "When Harry Meets Sally! I love this movie!"

I know, Levi almost said.

"And it's one of my favorite scenes!" Hange continued to gash. She plopped down on Levi's sofa with a wide grin.

However, as she took a closer look on a coffee table, her excitement diminished considerably.

"Two glasses?" she mumbled, frowning in confusion. "Are you waiting for someone?"

"No, it's just..."

A habit, Levi realized. He put two glasses simply out of habit. He was so used to drinking with Hange that he had taken two glasses without even thinking.

"It's nothing," he finished awkwardly. "Let's watch the movie."

Hange stared him for a second, her eyes wary. But then she snapped out of it and a smile returned to her lips. She waited until Levi took his place on a sofa and then put her head on his thigh.

"Must you always do it?" Levi complained without making a single move to change their position. "I'm not a piece of furniture, you know."

"Just put on a movie, Levi," Hange mumbled, too used to his constant bitching to have any kind of reaction to it.

"So bossy," he huffed, but took the remote in his hands and resumed the movie.

On a screen, Harry was confessing to Sally.

"It's kinda bizarre, don't you think?" Hange asked. "They knew each other for so long and yet they've realized their true feelings only years after."

"It's a movie, Hange."

"So you think it's unrealistic?" she lifted her head to stare at him. "That two people can be close friends for years and continue to be blind, refusing to see how much they need each other?"

"I think you have to be unbelievably dense to not realize that you're in love with your best friend."

Hange giggled, and the quiet sound was like music to Levi's ears. "Yeah, maybe, you're right. They're really dense."

"Idiots," Levi agreed, laying a hand on her shoulder and pulling her closer.

[ktheist]

04 — show me yours & i’ll show you mine | m

➙ muses. seokjin x college student / gamer!reader ft. best friend! taehyung

➙ genre. best friend’s brother au. university au. working au. fwb au.

➙ word. 2.9k

➙ warnings. angst

➙ index. 01 | 02 | 03 | 04 | 05 | 06 | finale | side story 1 |

➙ warnings. explicit content. smut. 

➙ synopsis. 

“you wanna say goodbye?”

“yes, i would love to say goodbye.”

x

one second, you’re exiled from taehyung’s room and the next, you’re under lockdown in the same exact room you were forbidden to enter. 

the boy who always made a fuss about cleaning up - cleans up his mess without a single complaint. you thought he’d come knocking on the (his) door and ask for your help but after an hour of twiddling your thumbs and swaying your feet in the air, kim taehyung finally walks in with beads of sweat on his forehead and that ugly stain of a vomit on  his shirt.

he pulls it over his head and tosses it into the laundry before pulling a fresh mickey mouse printed shirt and slips into bed. the temptation to text jeongguk or hoseok or jimin to pick you up has never been stronger but you bite the inside of your cheek, lay out the futon and turn off the lights.

“good night, tae.” you say into the darkness, not expecting for an answer.

“why did you do it?” the darkness whispers back.

“it just happened,” you know better than to offer half-baked excuses for something you completely intended and would even pursue if you didn’t get caught in the middle.

when silence lapses into the room, you thought the matter done and buried six feet under you and taehyung’s conscience. 

not the first time you’ve been wrong.

“why seokjin? why not me?” his lips brush yours, tasting like heartbreak and missing the part where he’s supposed to be drunk and out of his mind for even daring to get so close to you.

to let his hair brush against your forehead. to let his hand snake down your thigh with feather light touches until he’s an inch away from grabbing your ass. if he dared try, your kick wouldn’t be aimed at the air to which he moves it away and places that hand next to your head, boxing you under him completely.

“ew, what the fuck?” and despite the trapped-between-a-rock-and-a-hard-place situation, you manage to lean as far away as you can. or so you’d like to think, but you can still feel his breath fanning your neck.

you wish you have an owl’s ability to twist its neck all the way to the back.

“you’re my best friend, taehyung! get off!” you feel like a child hitting her father with her tiny little fist. taehyung doesn’t even flinch when it hits his chest.

but he pulls away anyway, standing on his knees over you within a lull in time before he falls back on his butt in the space between your parted calves. the wrist of his hand that’s propped against the floor brushes against the side of your foot.

“do you get it now? we grew up together,” his voice echoes into the dark, “my brothers are your brothers- that- what you did- that was messed up, ___.”

“so? was creeping up on me like that necessary?” you retort,  pushing yourself up and hearing the thud pillow you vehemently hurled at the silhouette of the man hunched over a couple feet away from you, “you perv!”

“how much do you like seokjin?” he asks, trapping the pillow in his lap, under his elbow, but before you can even say anything, he shoots you another string of question, “do you even like him?”

“stop making it sound like i’m the bad guy,” you huff, “as if your brother’s such a saint. he wanted it just as much.”

“i don’t care who wants it more, fuck’s sake,” he says roughly, “all your past relationships have only been sexual.”

holding up one hand, you find your shadow cloaked fingers much more nails, “your point being?”

“don’t you stop to think about how much things’ll change? how awkward it’ll be at family dinners once you finally got tired of each other? how awkward it’ll be for me?” 

“oh, because everything’s about you, isn’t it?” you roll your eyes yet your stomach churns.

only silence hangs over the darkness as your teeth sink into the soft flesh of your bottom lip. taehyung pushes himself out and marches out of the room whilst you stay rooted in your spot, curled into a ball with your legs against your chest.

when morning comes, you’re awaken to the sound of taehyung padding around with a towel wrapped around his waist, water dripping off his hair and trickling down his chest, “there’s no one if the bathroom, if you wanna wash up.”

it’s the only exchange you have in the morning and throughout the drive to your uni until taehyung parks the car in the spot somewhere near your faculty.

“i thought about it,” you finally say, breaking the silence. the way he turns to you in your periphery makes you want to shrink into the seat and crawl away like an ant but you shrug instead, “what you said last night - i thought about it... you’re right, you guys are the closest family i have here. and i don’t wanna ruin that just cause i can’t keep it in my pants.”

the soft hum of the music fills the space between you, making the unspoken truth a bit more bearable than a pin-drop silence. taehyung’s hair sways for the briefest moment as he arches his brows in contemplation before unsmiling lips curl into that signature box smile, “really?”

“yes, really,” you roll your eyes, “one dick wasn’t worth losing my best friend over.”

“i’d hug you but i’m still having withdrawals from what i saw last night,” tahyung’s face scrunches in disgust.

“oh so that’s what it takes to get your sleazy hands off me. by the way seokjin-” trickles of laughter escapes your mouth as you hop out of his car, managing to avoid his swatting hand just in time, “bye! thanks for the ride!”

x

the mindless banters between you and taehyung never cease, if anything, it goes from playing rock-paper-scissors to decide where to eat to googling up and showing each other pictures of poisonous shrooms in case you get lost in the woods for more than 36 hours.

you used to have lunch together every other day, but taehyung comes to you for a continuous three day, hitting four days streak in between classes this week. each time bearing that boyish grin that could fool just about anyone when it comes to picked-up pieces of a broken heart.

“she texted me,” he shrugs, twirling his chopsticks in the bowl of cold noodles and letting the silence hang stale without any hint of providing more information until you nudge it out of him.

“i didn’t text back.” he says it as if it’s the easiest thing to do.

“it’s so easy for you boys, huh?” you don’t know where in the deities greenland he got the narrowing of your eyes and the scrunching of your nose as-

“seokjin didn’t text you?” the titled smile of his tempts you to smack it off his face right that instance.

“how- wha- that literally has nothing to do with your bitch ass ex-girlfriend who were talking about though?” kim taehyung doesn’t offer any response, only the sway of his shoulders as he laughs before digging into the sweet, savory noodles in front of him.

it’s only after you’ve returned to your faculty, fast-walking towards your lecture, that you find out the subject matter himself sitting hunched over on one of the benches laid out along the roofless pathway that leads to your faculty. the jaws of the girls and gays that happen to be standing a few feet away, drops at the way seokjin looks up, eyes squinting at the sudden intrusion of the sunlight before his lips curl into a smile.

“hey,” there’s that smile you miss so bad.

x

it turns out seokjin’s little shit of a brother and your ass of a best friend snuck into his room, flashed a light over his face, bypassed his phone’s lock and deleted your number, blocked you on snapchat and unfollowed you on instagram.

“and here i thought you were done with me,” your jaw would have hung loose if you don’t have the tip of your venti mocha swirl keeping your lips together as you stare at the pavement, walking aimlessly with seokjin down the path of rose beds.

“i took the day off, decided to try my luck, and hope you’d see me at waiting for you awkwardly - everyone probably thinks ‘who the hell is this old ass guy hanging around-’“ his words get cut off by your gasp as you feel your face hurting from the way your lips are almost reaching your ears.

“you did?” shoulders sagging, you press a hand to your chest where you heart flutters with a sort of warmth, “for me?” before holding your arms out in an invitation for a hug and retracting them not even a second later, “no wait- i promised tae i wouldn’t do this.”

somewhere along the lines, you find yourself at the sky rose garden because the pathway you found him at, all of a sudden, becomes a runway for the girls and gays. they pass you in a guise of walking by whilst their eyes linger on his broad chest and pants that hug his thighs and the protrusion of his natural size that wasn’t going to get smaller than that.

“what he doesn’t know won’t kill him- or us,” there it is again, the melodic hymn of a chuckle as he opens his arms for you, the action ever so natural, as if he’s done this a couple of million times.

and just like that, you fall into his embrace, cheek mushing against his chest as you inhale the familiar scent of mint seaside and the faintest scent of woody earth. you find it unfair that his heart beats steadily whilst yours thrash in your chest. maybe that’s the cause of your cheeks heating up.

“i can do it, you know?” his voice vibrates against your ears in a honeyed tingles, “i can use my ‘big bro influence’ and get him off our backs.”

you lift your head, breath stuttering at the sight of star glinted eyes gazing down at you with the gentles smiles, “should you?” but you shake your head a second later, “no, he’d hate me forever - he’ll know i put you up to this because you’re too nice. you’d ne-”

a finger under your chin and a tilt of your head and you’re lost in an ocean of galaxy, “i brought up the idea, if anyone’s gonna get in hot water, it’s gonna be me.”

“that’s not what taehyung’s gonna think,” the recollection of your conversation with the aforementioned man floods your mind and almost as if an invisible current wraps around your body, you find yourself  taking a step back in surrender.

“and he’s right, seokjin,” the way his eyes flash with a sort of emotion - one that you can’t pinpoint, let alone interpret the meaning of - doesn’t go unnoticed by you yet you go on, “this has to stop. once the passion simmers down and we get bored of each other, what do you think is gonna happen?”

but the words that hits the air is like frostbites to your warm, beating heart, “you already have it in your mind that we’re gonna break up.”

it takes you a second to clear your throat, another to gather your thoughts, “relationships like ours always end with a break up.”

galaxies are littered with illuminating stars but you’re a fool to have turned a blind eye to its dark side. and seokjin’s stars have dimmed, leaving only a trail of shadow in those clouded eyes.

but the half-hearted smile that curls on his lips appears like a ray of sunlight on a cloudy day, “do you wanna at least goodbye?”

your eyes follow his that trail down to the noticeable bulge in his pants.

“yes,” you beam, “i would love to say goodbye.”

x

the cars and the scenic view of the highway pass by in a blur, not that you’re in a position to stare out the window like a heartbroken woman whose fiancee set out for way.

“slow down,” there’s a desperate plea in his voice, “i don’t want to cum too early.”

the stern, warning look he shoots you is makes you giggle. what with his flushed face and twitching self in your hand.

how adorable.

“but you taste so good, jinnie,” your tongue sweeps past your lips, licking the pre-cum off his oozing tip.

“keep teasing me like that if you want me to pull up and fuck you on the side of the road,” the threat on his tongue sends tingles down your spine.

eyes glinting, you can basically hear the blatant disregard in his voice when he first asked if you’d climb up in his lap while he was hitting the back of your throat after you’d quickly scurried into his car for the last goodbye.

so you take it slow, licking him down his length as his hand settle on your head, caressing your hair.

the door closes behind you as seokjin pushes you against it, his hand on your cheek as he crashes his lips against yours and your hand reaching under his boxers. it looked almost painful as he zipped up his pants before getting out of the car and walking the distance between the parking spot and the apartment.

you distinctly remember the sight of a blanket on the couch and an opened laptop on the coffee table, the red of the cans of energy drinks laying around on the ground and surface of said coffee table - they only ever try to clean up when they know you’re coming for your weekly stay over.

but who are you to judge when your clothes soon join the cans on the floor, forming trails down the hallway.

by the time your body lightly bounces on top of seokjin’s bed, you feel the cold air brush against your skin whilst he stands over you like a beast drinking in the sight of the prey he’ll devour. but you don’t mind if that allows you to admire the beautiful landscape of tight abs and powerful physique.

a sort of dread washes over you at the thought of such length coming close to the apex of your legs. taking him in your mouth was doable but only because you’ve had enough practice to know how to adapt to certain lengths by steadying your breath. but you’ve had enough experience to know you wouldn’t just be able to get use to his size right off the bat.

and he’s the biggest you’ve ever met.

your hand runs over the ridges of his muscles biceps before they twine together over the nape of his neck. it must have been the way you look at him, the yearning that pours through gaze and beckons him like a siren’s song. 

the spot of the bed a few inches from your head dips as he props himself on his forearms, lips marking your skin as his.

“seokjin- ah!” you should already used to the bold caress of his tongue around your nipple.

your control is devastated, your thighs are quivering and seokjin’s touches have enthralled you in a fierce flare of yearning. 

“ah,” you breathe out, gaze unfocusing as pleasure and discomfort flood from your core while he deliberately stretches you out.

his hand returns to the side of your face as he stays inside you, lets you feel him, take him for what he is whilst he kisses your cheekbone, your jawline and burry his face in your neck. 

your breath stutters as you feel him slide out of you, heart beat stammering for the briefest moment when his tip kisses your entrance before he pushes himself in deeper than before.

but you know you haven’t taken all of him in.

not yet.

“you’re stretching me out so good,” you say barely above whisper.

“not even half is in, baby,” is all he says before you feel the muscles in his back flexing as he shifts most of his weight onto his hands, thrusting deeper into you.

“fuck,” you moan, the discomfort fading away as pleasure surge through your body in waves as your arms wrap around seokjin’s neck, face buried in his shoulder until you don’t know where he starts and where he ends.

lost in wicked delight, your fuzzed mind barely registers the sound of your phone despite its blares a few inches above your head where you remember tossing to before slipping out of your jeans and succumbing to the reckless savage lust that neither you nor seokjin should speak about to a single soul.

“pick it up,” the man’s husked voice drums in your ear clearer only because of the cease of ripples of pleasures as he stills.

“wha-” you don’t say much, groping around for your phone before shooting him a pleading look of ‘can’t this wait till after you give me the greatest orgasm of my lifetime?’

“it’s taehyung,” the name that spills out of your mouth strikes guilt into your beating heart.

“hm? you’re tightening up. is it because of my little brother?” the surge of possession in his voice tempers with your sanity, it drips like sweet honey rose and mars your skin with its thorns, “answer the call.”

x

note. ooof ig yall know what next chapter’s gonna be. maybe.

taglist. @aretha170 @scalubera @ambersaesthetics​ @heyjiminnie​ @hyuck-me​ @fanfuckingfic​

[giorno-plays-piano]

Can’t Take My Eyes Off You

Pairing: Dabi x villain!Reader

Warnings: yandere, obsession, non-con, stalking, mentions of human experimentation, non-consensual drug use, lots of swearing.

Words: 1841.

Summary: Running away from the lab where you had been experimented on for years, you have no choice but to join the League of Villains to escape from the government. Of course, you don’t expect things to go smoothly, especially when one mutilated son of a bitch just can’t leave you alone.

P.S. I’ve suddenly remembered Rogue who had been my favorite character once; the heroine’s Quirk is partly based on her ability.

My dear @navegandoaciegas​, this is my first attempt at writing Dabi. Hope you’re going to enjoy reading it ❤

_________________

"Fuck, how much can you drink at once, birdie? Ain't you scared to pass out in a place full of men?"

Oh God, it was that smug bastard again. For the past couple of days Dabi couldn't get off your back for a full damn minute.

"Men? Here?" You opened your eyes and raised an eyebrow at the man whose face was right above yours as he leaned on the back of the couch where you laid. "I see just a couple of kids and one burnt corpse who can never fucking shut up."

"Oh? Wanna see how well can a burnt corpse fuck you up?"

Always up to a challenge. You rolled your eyes at his obvious display of hostility despite the fact he'd most definitely lose against you. Besides, Shigaraki would barely enjoy you two ruining the League's hideout, and upsetting that asshole ready to go berserk any moment certainly wasn't one of your priorities.

"Just go fuck yourself, would you? I'm not in the mood to bark at you."

"Well, then don't. I didn’t come here for that, actually."

This was something new. He suddenly became calm as you studied his grotesque mutilated face inches away from yours. Your expression didn’t betray any emotions either since you weren't shocked or disgusted by the way Dabi looked: you've seen worse in the laboratory, and repulsive things had long stopped looking repulsive to you.

"What are you here for, then?" You asked him, trying to remember if you finished that second bottle of sake or not. Since the time you accidentally got one of those useless Quirks, you couldn't get drunk anymore - now strong alcohol only made you sleepy.

"I've always wanted to ask why the fuck are you wearing these." Dabi pointed out to the black leather gloves laying on the coffee table in front of you, and you rolled your eyes again. One more useless question.

"In this team of no-brainers you're the last person I expected to ask me this question." Groaning, you moved up a little to take more comfortable position and stared at the man above you intensely.

"Don't you want to gather as many Quirks as possible? If so, why wearing gloves when you can only get a Quirk through touch?"

You were close to snapping at him, and it certainly made Dabi look even more smug.

"Who the fuck do you think I am, a garbage bin?" You barked wishing you could teleport the bastard somewhere to Hawaii. "I only take Quirks I need, and it isn't easy to find those in that damp of useless abilities regular citizens have. Besides, some Quirks are quite dangerous for their owners and I'd prefer them not existing at all. You, of all people, should already get that, Pretty Face."

He smiled at you, but you saw his hollow eyes sparkling dangerously at your last remark, and you felt his body emanating heat he could turn into his famous blue flames within a second. Nasty shit, that what's you thought of his Quirk. Who on Earth would want anything like that? You doubted anyone but a true psychopath could really appreciate something as fucked up as Dabi's ability to burn anything and anyone, himself including. You definitely didn't want to use his Quirk despite already taking it as almost all of those belonging to the League of Villains. It wasn't intentional, though.

"You'd better start watching your mouth, birdie. You ain't back in the lab." His smile grew wider as he saw your expression darkening at the mention of the lab.

Fucking son of a bitch. You bet he'd go insane during the first month being locked up there.

"Huh, calm down, dear. I think it's better we get along."

You sent him a glare wishing you could throw his overconfident ass out of the window. Dabi loved messing with fucking everyone, Shigaraki included, but he was still a valuable member of the team. Killing him would do you no good.

Showing him your middle finger, you put your head on the pillow and took the half-empty bottle of sake. Thank goodness you didn't finish it. You hoped Dabi would vanish by the time you were done.

You spent a few minutes in complete silence as the man kept leaning on the couch and watching you drinking while you did your best trying to relax. Why the Hell was Dabi stuck here with you? Didn't he have any other things he should be doing now? Was he here to get under your skin even more? Shit, you just wanted to be left alone. You wanted it since the time they brought you to the lab, but since then somebody had always been getting on your nerves one way or the other.

"Seriously, what do you want from me?" You grunted as you opened your eyes again and stared at Dabi's face. "You wanna take the couch or what? I ran out of sake if you're here for it."

There was that smug smile again. Saints, the guy had been creeping you out with his long intense stares for quite some time, but today he was even less bearable than usual. He definitely wanted something from you, and the feeling was making you uneasy.

"You wanna hook up, birdie?"

You thought you were gonna choke on air when you heard him saying that. What? Seriously? Did he hurt his head so bad last time heroes attacked? So, that was the meaning of those stares, then? He thought you were the one he could stick his dick in. Wincing from the thought like from a toothache, you squeezed your eyes shut. The guy was clearly mad.

"Are you out of your mind? Why would I want to hook up with anyone?" You huffed with irritation and realized Dabi was having way more fun than you.

"Don't tell me you're actually a virgin."

"You think I can be a virgin with the life I'm having?" You sounded more bitter than you thought you would, and the man above you chuckled. He was getting on your nerves more and more with each passing second.

"Then why not? Sex is a good way to relax. You certainly seem like you could let off some steam." You flinched when Dabi extended his hand to you, but he had only brushed of a lock of your hair out of your face. "I bet I can help you with that better than most of the team."

"Sex is painful, and I don't like pain. Go have fun with Toga, she seems more into that than me." You narrowed your eyes at him, your hand almost touching his neck if the villain decided he'd go further without your consent. His stupid grin going wider was making you more and more mad.

Of course, he wouldn't go to Himiko. That asshole had his own type, and she certainly didn't fall into that category. Why did you? You had no idea, but you doubted he would ever lay his hands on you. Yeah, you knew what sex was, and it had nothing to do with pleasure like in those stupid romantic novels you once bought. It was humiliating and painful. If you had a chance to get back to those who did it to you back in the lab, you'd rip their hearts out of their rib cages.

The expression on your face didn't seem to faze Dabi even the slightest bit, and you rolled your eyes in irritation. Apparently, he wouldn't give up unless you showed him you weren't some doll he could play with, and Shigaraki was probably going to get real mad at the both of you this evening.

All of a sudden you felt some strange tickling in your muscles you had never felt before. What was that? Confused, you quickly glanced over the room to see no one except Dabi still on his spot. What was that? Was it some hero's work? Had they found your hideout? No, it couldn’t be. You'd hear them, feel them before somebody even set their foot on your territory. It wasn't a hero.

Unwilling to wait for any surprises to happen, you used a regeneration Quirk, the one you were gifted on your 14th birthday so you could heal yourself after they ran the tests without troubling a healer too much. Strangely, the Quirk did nothing about the tickling, and you felt your legs getting weaker. What the fuck was that?

As you raised your head to ask Dabi for help, you suddenly realized he was eager to see what you were doing. He looked like he enjoyed watching you in such state, confused and even frightened, your knees slightly trembling as if you became weak within a couple of seconds.

It was him. He did something to you. The bastard had the nerve to do something to your body so it'd be easier to handle you.

"What have you done?" You hissed at him while he chuckled, pointing at the bottles of sake on the table. "Have you poisoned my drink?"

But the regeneration would work in that case. You knew for sure.

Running his finger around the shell of your ear, Dabi hummed with content, "Poisoned? Come on, who do you think I am, an Evil Queen? That's just a little handy potion that has a tendency to slowly accumulate in your body. Makes you a little softer, don't you think?"

Oh. Oh. That's why he was always watching you. He had no idea when the effects would start to show. Did he fucking realize it could happen in the heat of the battle when you needed your Quirks the most? Did Dabi have any idea what would happen if heroes managed to lock you away again?

"Seems like you planned to abandon me if heroes attacked, didn't you?" You gritted your teeth when Dabi got on top of you, his hands on your chest as he caressed your body like a lover would, his hot fingers getting under your clothes.

"Of course not. I'd play your personal hero and save your stubborn ass the trouble of murdering everyone."

While you desperately wanted to kick him off you came to realization you weren't able to even stand up, your arms and legs so weak you could barely move while Dabi had no problems stripping you out of your clothes, his hands on the your thighs as he took off your pants.

Shit, shit, shit. You couldn’t use any Quirks to hurt him, all of them barely responding to your call. What was that potion? Why nobody in the lab prepared you for this? How on Earth did that shithead obtain such a dangerous thing?

"If you hurt me, I'll rip your brain out of your skull and bring it to Shigaraki as a present."

His chapped, disfigured lips brushed against your neck almost gently when the man murmured, "It doesn't have to be painful, birdie. I'll show you how much fun we can have together."

___________________

Tags: @coolio-love @awesomerextyphoon​

[tempobaekh]

Rating Penthouse: War In life characters Pt. 2

I couldn't fit all of them in the first post so here is the second part

⚠️⚠️CONTAINS SPOILERS⚠️⚠️

Shim Suryeon

1000/10

QUEEN

GODDESS

ANGEL

LIKE I LOVE THIS QUEEN SO FUCKING MUCH

SHE IS SO DELICATE AND SOFT

AND MY HEART JUST GOES SKHSJSHSKS WHEN I SEE HER

Ok so her acting is absolutely amazing in the drama

The way the actress pulled off the two characters so well is so amazing and it shows that she has so much talent

She is such an honest, wise, delicate, smart and soft person

But she is also the one that has been through alot

Seeing her own daughter die, seeing her husband die, seeing all the horrible shit Joo Dan Tae did, almost losing Hye In, and also watching a loved one, Logan Lee, die with her own eyes

Everytime something wrong happens you can see so much pain in her eyes that it breaks my heart to see her like that

Her plans for revenge has always been AMAZING

Like she is so smart and I never thought of the plan and it would shock me how she would execute her plan

She so soft hearted like she still cared for Hye In knowing she wasn't her real daughter and cared for her as a real daughter

She still cared for the twins even though they weren't her real kids and still cared for them when they would tell her they hate her and stuff

I also love her like intimidating girl crush side as well

I'm a big simp for her

She is so confident and her acting skills of playing dumb infront of Joo Dan Tae is amazing

Her care towards Rona is also ADORABLE

The best revenge I have seen done by her was in s1 with the like buss area and the masks

And when she held that gun and yelled

" MIN SEOL AH WAS MY DAUGHTER "

Me: SJSSJSJSKHSKSHS

I love this queen

She was also serving amazing looks

I think her honesty and the need to to justice is what made her even more of an angel

Bc everyone is fucked up in Hera Palace

Her destroying Joo Dan Tae's shit was so SATISFYING to watch

LIKE YES GO QUEEN

And when she brought Jung Doo Man with her to the room at the Police Office

I SCREAMED BC HE IS THE ACTOR THAT PLAYED MOTAK IN THE UNCANNY COUNTER AND IS SO HOT

OK ILL STOP

Like yes queen get your revenge

But at the end my poor girl got hurt

Logan: 🧍🏻‍♂️👋🏻💥🔥💣🚘

Suryeon: 🧍🏻‍♀️💐😳😟😭

IM SO SORRY

Her playing Na Aegyo was so hot as well

I loved seeing her girl crush side it was amazing

I love her fit's in every episode

SHIM SURYEON QUEEN

SHIM SURYEON BEST GIRL

Oh Yoon Hee

8.5/10

Lowkey found her annoying at first

But slowly she got bearable

She has also been through alot and has felt a lot of pain

Having to raise her daughter alone, watched her own boyfriend cheat on her, her daughter getting bullied and getting kicked off the school, losing her daughter, losing Suryeon, getting together happily with Yoonchul, even though it was for the revenge you could still se she was genuinely happy with him, and then losing him AGAIN, getting blamed for her own friends death

My girl has been through a lot

But she still is strong

She came back stronger

I was absolutely shocked when I found out she was the one that threw Seol Ah off the edge

And I was even more shocked when she betrayed Suryeon and kissed Dan Tae

Girl I hope you washed your lips with bleach after that

Her confidence in S2 was so amazing I loved it

She also had a beautiful glow up when she came back

Also loved her fit's

I also liked how she didn't push her crime around and blamed it on other UNLIKE the other Hera Palace people and just admitted and felt sorry for it

I LOVE HER

Kang Mari

4/10

ANNOYING 4.0

At first I questioned LIKE why is she here

But then I understood bc her husband is going to play an important role

My heart broke when I saw how she found out that her daughter was getting bullied but also had hair loss bc of stress

And her character development

Like my respect went 📈📈

But soon after it went 📉📉

LIKE SHE CHANGED SO QUICKLY WITH LIKE THE SNAP OF A FINGER

And that showed me that she changed not bc she wanted to

but bc she HAD to

I was so disappointed in her

WHEN SHE SLAPPED SEOK KYUNG THO IT WAS SO SATISFYING TO WATCH

Yoo Jenny

6.5/10

ANNOYING 5.0

At first tho

But then she got better

I found her so annoying at first tho

LIKE OMFG JUST 🤜🏻👩🏻

She was cute with Minhyuk tho

Like I shipped them

Her asking Rona if she had eaten and giving her food was ADORABLE

She is soft hearted LIKE I can see it

Her character development was so cute

Like she genuinely became Rona's friend and liked her

And you could see just how much pain she was in and how heart broken she felt when she lost Rona

Like her only genuine friend was taken away from her

I also cried rivers when I saw how horribly she was bullied

Like they almost gave her a eating disorder

I was disappointed that even Minhyuk turned against her

THE WAY SHE SLAPPED EUNBYEOL WAS SO SO FUCKING SATISFYING LIKE

ILL PAY YOU EVERYTHING I HAVE TO DO IT AGAIN

But also her beginning to dislike Rona broke my heart

Even though she wasn't entirely mad at Rona you could see it

Minhyuk caused a ruckus and threw like flour and eggs but Jenny patiently waited there and didn't want to do that

Also I feel like her rage and heart broken emotion about her mom going to jail

And seeing Rona alive just got mixed together as betrayal and disappointment and hurt

I really hope she becomes better again

Fingers crossed🤞🏻

Ha Eun Byeol

1.5/10

ANNOYING 6.0

PSYCHO

MENTAL PROBLEMS

SHE PISSES ME OFF SO FUCKING MUCH

AND SHE SCARES ME AT THE SAME TIME

HER SMILE IS SCARY AND CREEPY

🔪👩🏻

LIKE GIRL YOU HAIR TUGGING SHIT

SHE WAS SO DESPERATE FOR SEOK HOON

LIKE HER SCENE REMINDED ME OF SOOJIN TRYING TO KISS SUHO IS TRUE BEAUTY

She is so annoying

But she is kinda like her mother

And young child who is forced to accomplish stuff that is out of her hand

Having way to high expectations

Seojin had way high expectations from her and treated Eunbyeol more like a Robot rather than a daughter

And that's the times I felt and for her

Like again she craves affection and love

And only her father was there to give it to her

I think stress caused her to develop like hallucinations and other stuff

She only found comfort in that psycho housekeeper

Bc that housekeeper treated her more like a daughter than her own mom could

Like she hasn't even properly hugged her mom once

But she still a psycho that needs therapy and help

I wonder where she like vanished at the end of S2 with the housekeeper

Min Seol Ah

QUEEN

ANGEL

SOFT

AMAZING

BEST GIRL

MIN SEOL AH BEST GIRL

I love her so much omfg

She also went through alot

Like her bullying moments broke my heart bc

At one hand she was desperate for money

But also on the other hand she also wanted to accomplish her dream and goal

Amazing voice

And I'm so glad that she has an amazing brother Logan (even though its step)

Her past is also very hurting

I can physically feel my heart hurting when I see her struggles

I really wished we could see more of her

(I'm very sorry if some of them are short that's what I think about the characters and I don't much more to say hehe I'm also very tired and was half asleep while writing this)

[wendimydarling]

Revenge

Title: Revenge

Summary: Walter gets revenge on his wife.

Pairing: Walter Marshall x First Person Reader 

Word Count: 1918 

Warnings: Nuthin’ but floof here! Oh, and some female nudity.

A/N: This story was inspired by drunk Tumblr! and the conversation between me, @hell1129-blog​, @yoursecretsmutblog​, and @ly--canthrope​ in the comments of this post here. Enjoy!!

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

Walter closed the door to the apartment, kicking off his shoes and tugging his sweater over his head. The day had been long and arduous, as most of his days were. He was looking forward to spending the evening with his girl. Who seemingly is nowhere to be found, he thought as he glanced around.

“Babe?”

“I’m in here!” he heard her reply. It sounded like it came from the bedroom. Walter traipsed down the hall and was met with the most beautiful sight he’d ever witnessed.

There she was, his siren wife, lying naked on their bed, her body on display for him. Her soft curves never ceased to arouse him; her beauty stealing his breath away, the matted shine of her olive skin hypnotizing him. But it wasn’t just her alluring glow that made him tremble. It was the fact that she had cuffed herself to the headboard and she was grinning at him profusely, already rubbing her legs against each other in anticipation.

“I found an extra set of your handcuffs when I threw a load in the wash,” she explained, biting her lip. “I hope you don’t mind.”

It was Walter’s turn to smile. How on earth had he gotten so lucky? He stripped off his remaining shirt and straddled his tiny wife.

~~~~~~~~

I’ve had such a bad day. I can’t wait to get home to you.

The text message had seared my heart. I swore to myself I’d make his day better somehow, so when I found his handcuffs while going through the laundry, an idea immediately came to mind. I hurried quickly through the chore and headed to the bedroom to get ready. Walter would be home soon.

Once I was satisfied with my hair and touched up my makeup, I made my way to the bed, hurriedly slipping out of my work clothes. I laid down and hooked one wrist with the cuffs, relishing the way the cold metal felt against my flushed skin. We’d used them before, and I would never tire of the solid, relaxing sensation that flooded my body the moment I was restrained. My lady bits were already dripping, and Walter wasn’t even home yet.

Or maybe he was. I heard his boots thud outside the front door so I hastily put my arms above my head and connected the other wrist in the cuffs, trapping myself. I didn’t have a key; the only way out now was Walter. I slunk down a little so that I was nice and stretched, feeling grounded and excited for what was in store.

“Babe?”

“I’m in here!” I called out to him, unable to keep myself from grinning as I pictured his reaction. I wasn’t disappointed; the look on his face as his jaw dropped three inches was worth everything. My pussy throbbed at how dark his eyes grew, and I pressed my legs together, fending her off.

“I found an extra set of your handcuffs when I threw a load in the wash,” I teased, biting my lip as I watched my husband swallow thickly. ‘I hope you don’t mind.”

Walter smiled slowly and I shivered as he took off his shirt, allowing me to see every muscle in that thick chest of his as he came over to the bed and climbed on top of my small frame. He grabbed a pillow and tucked it under my back before pressing his weight on my thighs and I was at once unable to move, my entire upper body deliciously arched and at his mercy. 

He leaned onto his elbows, his face hovering over me as his fingers brushed over my breasts. I squirmed a little, the light touch tickling softly. His smirk had taken on an evil hue and I gulped, suddenly uncertain about my life choices this evening.

“Do you remember,” He started, tracing circles around my nipples, “The surprise party you threw me for my birthday?”

Oh shit.

I tugged on the handcuffs at once, but I couldn’t move an inch. I looked into my husband’s eyes, pleading with him.

“Walter no, no no no this is not what I had in mind, don’t do this!”

“Do you remember the slideshow?” he asked, his fingers traveling up to my armpits, hovering over the exposed skin. 

“Walter pleeeease!”

“Do you remember how I said you’d pay for it?”

All I could do was whimper, squirming ineffectively underneath his large frame. 

“Welcome to my revenge, Sweetheart… thank you so much for offering it to me.”

“No Walter--fuck!!!” I squealed as his fingers started to dance over my sensitive hollows. He knows that it’s my worst place and Detective Marshall is a methodical man; he took care to tickle every exposed nerve beneath my arms. I laughed loudly, my inability to protect myself only further heightening the sensation as he tortured me freely.

I watched him through my laughter; his face was covered in joy, and I realized he was truly enjoying this. Whatever bad things had happened today, my suffering was erasing them from his mind. I figured I could take being tickled for a while, if only to see that happiness never leave my husband. 

Then again, maybe not. He switched from spidering to poking and I screamed, arching my back even further into the tickles. That seemed like the opposite of how I should have been responding, but my body was reacting of its own accord at this point.

“WALTER PLEASE!!! No mooohohore!!!”

He just shook his head, chuckling at my feeble attempt to beg. 

“You really think, after you embarrassed me with all those childhood photos, that I’m going to let you go after only five minutes? No my love, get comfortable. I’m going to tickle you all night.”

“NOOOOOO!” I wailed, the fingers switching tactics again. This time he was digging, and I was barely able to catch a breath before another long batch of laughter ripped through me. Walter sat up, and I knew what was coming next. I squirmed helplessly as the rest of my naked torso was exposed to his nimble fingers.

“Don’t you dare,” I warned futilely. 

“You’re not really in a position to be making demands,” he quipped, running those stupidly talented fingers up and down my sides. I kicked my legs futilely, or at least I tried to. I was unable to protect a single inch of my sensitive skin as ticklish sensations swarmed my body. Walter was laughing with me, egged on by my cries for him to stop. 

He finally settled on my ribs and my laughter hit a new peak as he began to vibrate his fingertips against each one. Digging in with fervor, my husband set out to discover every new place within my bones that would cause the loudest response. 

Just when I thought I couldn’t take another second Walter paused, spreading his large hands across my entire abdomen. I gasped for air, staring at his stupid grin as I pleaded with him for mercy.

“No more Walter, please… I can’t take it, I’m gonna die!”

“It’s just a little tickling,” he chided, grazing his fingertips over my belly to keep me tense. “So long as I let you breathe you won’t die. You’ll just wish you had.”

“Walteeeeeheher…” My moan turned into a chuckle as his fingers started to pick up the pace, spidering softly all over the sensitive flesh of my torso. I clacked the cuffs hard against the headboard, the only movement I was capable of to express my frustration. Walter just laughed and attacked my sides once more, causing me to scream anew. 

“Shhhh,” he warned me, “You’re going to make the neighbors think I’m murdering you.” 

“YOU ARE!!!!” I shot back, twisting the little I could to evade his attack. I lost that battle in less than a second, and my screams grew louder as he dipped a finger into my belly button. He clapped a hand over my mouth to keep me quiet. I saw an idea spring to life on his face as I laughed into his hand, and I watched in horror as he slowly lowered his head. 

I tried to bite him, tried to shake him off, but nothing I did could stop his descent toward my torso. Walter’s lips hovered an inch from my navel and he looked up at me as I glared at him, those icy blue eyes boring wickedly into my soul as he dramatically took a deep breath. I closed my eyes and braced myself for the hell that was about to ensue. 

Walter blew a raspberry straight into my core and suddenly the world ceased to exist. The only thing that existed was tickles. He blew raspberry after raspberry all over my sensitive belly, scrubbing his beard against my skin each time he took a breath. His hands returned to scrabbling rapidly over my armpits and I absolutely howled, tears rolling down my face as I could to do nothing but lay there and take it. 

“I’M SORRY!!!! I’M SORRY I’M SORRY I’M SORRY!!!” I screamed, face flushed red and desperate. Walter stopped tickling again and returned to his position of lying on top of me, his fingertips walking slowly up and down my armpits. It kept me giggling, but it was bearable.

“Sorry for what?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.

“For embarrassing you at the pa-HAR-ty,” I exclaimed.

“Good. Now admit you like this.”

“What the fuck, no I don’t!”

Walter just smiled knowingly.

“I could smell it halfway through, love… you’re soaked. Admit it, you got turned on by a little tickling.”

I shook my head. He wasn’t wrong, but I’d be damned if I gave him an excuse to do this again. Walter sighed.

“Alright, well I guess I’ll just have to keep tickling until you see reason.”

He started wiggling his fingers again and I gave in at once.

“NO NO NO OKAY! I’ll admit it I--” I swallowed thickly, sighing in defeat. “--I liked being tickled.”

“Well if you like it, I guess that’s no reason for me to stop,” Walter mused, reinstating his assault under my arms. I squealed.

“Oh god, Walter PLEASE STOP!” I begged, my lungs burning with the effort to breathe. He ran his hands up my arms, squeezing them gently as he kissed me. I moaned into his mouth, all at once ravenous to be taken. His lips found their way to my neck and I gasped, desire searing its way into my loins. I pulled at the cuffs, wanting to touch my husband and frustrated beyond words that I couldn’t. It seemed so unfair, seeing as though his hands were roaming my body freely. 

“Walter,” I groaned, writhing underneath his touch. “Please uncuff me.”

“No,” he mumbled against my collarbone, slipping his fingers into the slick between my legs.

“I intend to fuck you, just like this. And when I’m done,” Walter looked into my eyes with the most serious expression I’d ever seen, except for a tiny glint of humor in his eyes. The slightest smirk tugged at the corner of his lips, one that made me shiver, and not in a good way. I knew that look. He leaned over and whispered in my ear the worst words I had ever heard in my life.

“When I’m done, I’m going to tickle you. All. Over. Again.”

I vowed then and there to hide any and all handcuffs that ever made their way into our apartment.

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

Fan Club: @littlefreya​ @sciapod​ @thiccgeralt​ @fucking-hell-cavill​ @brexrif​ @peakygroupie​ @viking-raider​ @constip8merm8​ @daniig95​ @elinalfrida​ @hell1129-blog​ @oddsnendsfanfics​ @agniavateira​ @dearlybelovedluke​ @sofiebstar​ @wanderinglunarnights​ @mary-ann84​ @nuns-and-roses​ @luclittlepond​ @thekingstachemademedoit​ @iloveyouyen​ @lestersglitterglue​ @funnygirlthatgab​ @wondersofdreaming​ @yoursecretsmutblog​ @valkavill​ @kevia1000 @trippedmetaldetector​ @lifeofrileyp​ @captaingothgirl1996​ @sasusakubae​ @princess-of-riviaa​ @vivodinson​ @paradisecitychild​ @stuckupstucky​ @speakerforthedead0-blog​

[emy-loves-you]

Sanders Sides AU-gust Day 2: College

Virgil and Logan have a series of flirty interactions before realizing that they’re roommates.

Logan POV, Analogical with background Royality and familial Logicality.

Day 1 | Masterlist | Day 3

Logan felt extremely stereotypical as he drank from his red solo cup. According to the clock on the wall, it was currently 11:27 PM and Logan was ready to go home. He silently cursed out his brother for dragging him to this party. Patton could have asked his boyfriend to take him, but he wanted Logan to get out of the house. Logan watched as Patton and Roman made out on the other side of the room. He took a bigger swig from his cup and winced. Cheap booze. Logan wished that the other highschoolers here could swindle some better alcohol. Logan steeled himself before downing the rest of the cup. He needed a distraction from his boredom (and his brother making out with Roman Prince).

Logan swiftly stood up, frowning as he stumbled a bit. Logan had assumed that his tolerance level was higher than this. He’s only had… three? Four? Drinks. Logan should go get another drink. Logan quickly made his way to the kitchen, ignoring the other teens he passed on the way there. This house was pretty big, with multiple bedrooms for teens to have fun in. Logan eventually found the kitchen, wincing slightly at how bright the room was. There seemed to be only one person- oh.

Sitting on the counter was the most gorgeous man Logan had ever seen. Logan vaguely recognized him from the football games he attended with Patton. The teen usually manned the concession stand, wearing his overly large hoodie and dark eyeshadow. With his alcohol-fueled brain, Logan wasn’t shy to admit that he’d been crushing on the teen for a while. Tonight his crush wore a tight-fitting MCR shirt and equally tight jeans. His makeup was much more complex, complete with winged eyeliner and black lipstick. Logan suddenly felt hot all over as he moved forward to grab another drink. The sinfully attractive man just then seemed to notice Logan’s presence, swaying slightly on the counter.

“Hey, I know you!” The man slurred out. He appeared to be just as intoxicated as Logan was. “You’re the cute kid that orders cookies and water at every football game!”

Logan blushed, surprised that he remembered Logan’s face, much less his order. He then realized the first half of the sentence. “You think I’m cute?” He asked, internally frowning at the way his voice slurred.

The hot guy (who Logan was mentally dubbing ‘hottie’ from here on out. It’s not like anyone could read his thoughts) smirked. “You’re more than cute. You’re hot as shit, man.” The man giggled. “I’ve been crushing on you for a long time.”

Logan’s drunk-self couldn’t help but repeating the sentiment. “I’ve also harbored a crush on you.” They both giggled like schoolgirls at the thought, both too intoxicated to fully grasp the implications.

Hottie suddenly hopped off the counter, grabbing Logan by the hand. “C’mon.”

Logan let himself be pulled along until they reached the front door. “Where are we going?” Logan felt like he was forgetting something important. Did he have his phone? Yes, it was in Logan’s back pocket. Then what was he forgetting? It must not be important.

Hottie smiled as he led Logan across the street. “My house.” He led Logan to the front door, only letting go of his hand to unlock the door. “My parents are on vacation, so the house is empty. We just graduated and we both like each other so I thought-”

Hottie didn’t quite state what he was planning for them to do that night. It might have been because Logan chose that moment to press his lips against Hottie’s. Or that Hottie’s back was immediately pressed against the wall. Or maybe he was just too busy trying to get Logan’s shirt off.

---------------------------------------------------------------

Logan groaned as he woke up, ignoring the need to open his eyes. His head felt like it would split in two. What happened last night? Logan struggled to pick out the details. Patton forced me to go to a party. He and Roman were… occupied. I went to get another drink and found that hot guy I’ve had a crush on for a while. I confessed my feelings and we went to his house- HIS HOUSE?!

Logan forced his eyes open, suddenly realizing that he wasn’t in his own bedroom. While it was difficult to see without his glasses, Logan could still make out the majority of the room. The whole room was a strange yet aesthetically pleasing combination of charcoal grey and purple. The bedroom was sparse, with multiple cardboard boxes stacked in the corner of the room. Logan’s crush (was crush an appropriate term for someone you’ve already had sex with?) was sitting on the other end of the bed, writing something in his notebook. Logan was suddenly aware of the fact that he was naked underneath the thick comforter on top of him. He went through the mental crisis of what the hell should I do for a few minutes before the man looked up.

“Oh! I didn’t know you were awake.” The teen shuffled around before holding something out. Logan held his hand out and was slightly surprised to feel his glasses being set gently onto his palm. Logan quickly put on his glasses and watched as his crush played with his hoodie strings. It was very odd to see him like this. On one hand, he wasn’t acting like the antisocial yet terrifying teenager that he was at football games. On the other hand, he wasn’t the suave, confident young man that Logan met last night. He was… shy, and quiet (and, though Logan would never admit it… he was cute, in a soft way).

Logan felt his blush rise as the guy handed him his clothes. They were clean and folded, with not a wrinkle in sight. How long has he been up for? And how long have I been asleep? Logan watched as the man gestured towards the bathroom and walked out of the room. Logan quickly stepped into the bathroom and changed, ignoring the heavy nausea he felt from his hangover. He then made his way out of the room, making his way to the kitchen. His crush was sitting on the counter, his phone in one hand and an unopened bottle of water in the other. Logan’s phone sat on the counter next to him, connected to a charger. The man offered Logan the water, which he accepted gratefully, chugging half the bottle before using the cool bottle as an icepack for his headache. His crush winced at the action. “Sorry, we don’t have any painkillers around. Trust me, I checked.”

Logan offered a small smile. “I believe you.” He turned towards his phone and was unsurprised to see over 50 missed calls from Patton. “I’ll need to be leaving soon.” The man tensed up. “What’s wrong?”

He sighed. “Look, I know we went through some mushy shit last night, but… I’m moving away in a few weeks. And I don’t know about you, but I don’t think I could handle anything long-distance. But I didn’t mean to bring you here for a one-night stand. I wasn’t lying when I said I’ve been crushing on you for a while now.”

Logan nodded. “I am also leaving for college in a few weeks. There are extremely low chances of the two of us meeting again. While I also harbor feelings towards you, I do not fancy a long distance relationship.”

They sat there in silence while Logan texted Patton. Logan left out the majority of the details, just stating that he was unharmed and that he was across the street from the party. Patton replied that he would be there in 20 minutes.

“Hey.” Logan looked up, and his crush immediately looked down at his feet. “If we ever meet again… you know, after we’ve moved and stuff… do you think we could give this a chance?”

Logan smiled. “If we somehow meet again in the future, I would thoroughly enjoy being in a relationship with you.”

They sat there for a few minutes before he smirked. “Wanna make out until your ride gets here?”

Logan leaned forward to kiss him. “Yes please.”

---------------------------------------------------

Logan sighed as he finished transferring his belongings from his car to his dorm room. Luckily his roommate wasn’t there yet, so they couldn’t see him exhausted from going up and down the stairs a dozen times. If he was here, maybe this whole thing would’ve been more bearable, but-

Logan shook his head. It’s been three months since the party, and he was probably on the other side of the country. Logan still feels like kicking himself for not getting the guy’s name or phone number. But by the time he thought of that, his crush had already moved away. But even after three months of no contact, Logan couldn’t get him out of his head. He’d fallen hard, and every night after was filled with dreams that would never happen. Kisses that never occurred, words that were never said, smiles and secrets that were never shared. God, Logan would do just about anything to have one more night with the guy. Instead, he was almost 1,000 miles away from his hometown, sharing his room with a stranger and wishing for a nameless cute guy more than he wished for his own brother.

Once everything was arranged accordingly, Logan decided to go and get some coffee. While he technically had a coffee maker in his room, Logan wanted to stretch his legs and familiarize himself with his new environment (it had nothing to do with getting thoughts of his crush out of his head, that would be preposterous). Logan made his way out of the college dorm, already dreading the walks from his dorm to his classes. The campus was larger than anything in Logan’s hometown. It took 20 minutes to reach the edge of campus, and another 15 to find a decent coffee shop. Sure, it looked like a cheap rip-off of Starbucks, but it had good reviews online so Logan was willing to give it a try.

Logan opened the front door, unsurprised to hear a small bell go off at the action. What he was surprised by was the familiar voice at the counter.

“Hello, welcome to the Coffee Castle, how may I help you?” Logan looked up just as he did, and they made eye contact over the counter. Logan’s face went red as he turned around and yelled towards the back room. “Taking my break now!”

Another voice answered back. “But I thought you were servin’ a customa?”

He blushed. “He can buy a coffee later, I gotta talk to him first. Personal stuff.”

The voice laughed. “Go gettum, V!”

V. While it wasn’t a full name, it was a much better substitute for him. V hung up his apron before dragging Logan towards the back of the coffee shop. There was a storage closet just big enough for the two of them as they slipped inside.

V smiled as he turned on the light. “Hey.”

Logan blushed. “Hello. It is very… nice, to see you again.”

V smirked. “Look, I’ve only got 10 minutes before I’ve gotta go back up to the counter. Wanna make out until then?”

Logan immediately pressed forward for a kiss. “That would be amenable.” He whispered under his breath.

Time always felt slower around V. Back when V worked the high school concession stand, a five-minute conversation felt like hours of invigorating debates. That night spent with V felt like years of drunken confessions and passionate moments. And the 8 minutes they spent making out in this closet felt like an entire lifetime of love. Every kiss was a promise for more, every sigh was a confession that didn’t need verbalization to be understood. Logan was not well-versed with recognizing and acting on emotions, but after the lifetime he was feeling in this moment, he realized that he would trade almost anything to spend an actual lifetime with V.

They eventually stopped kissing and just stood there for a moment, pressing their foreheads together in some vague form of reassurance. Logan wished that this moment of serenity would last forever, but that was not meant to be. V pulled back and blushed, looking down at his feet. “I know we both said we would give us a chance if we met again, but do you still mean it?”

Logan nodded. “Do you?”

V smiled, leaning in to kiss Logan’s nose. “I wouldn’t have pulled you into this closet if I didn’t.”

They stood there for a few moments before Logan coughed awkwardly. “Could I get your phone number? I really don’t want to go through the trouble of trying to find you again.”

V laughed. “Yeah, that makes sense.” V typed his number into Logan’s phone before sighing. “I need to get back to work.”

Logan frowned. “Alright. Will you be here tomorrow?”

Virgil smirked. “No, but I can be here if someone wants to go on a coffee date.”

Logan blushed. “That sounds acceptable. Is 1 PM a good time for you.”

Virgil smiled. “Sounds perfect.” He gave Logan one more peck on the lips before opening the closet door. “See you then.”

Logan was a blushing mess for the rest of the day. Patton had decided to call him soon after Logan left the cafe, and he squealed when Logan told him of his encounter with V. Patton then spent the next 20 minutes telling Logan what he should wear for his date tomorrow. That’s when Logan realized that holy shit I have a DATE tomorrow. He spent the rest of the day at the local library, trying to find anything on date etiquette (or just how to hold a proper conversation). After promising to tell Patton about how his date goes, he reads several philosophy books to try and calm down. By the time the library closed, Logan was feeling slightly less flustered and collected enough to meet his new roommate. Logan knew nothing but the man’s name, so it was difficult to judge whether or not this interaction would go smoothly.

Logan approached his dorm once again, feeling a nervous twist in his abdomen. First impressions meant alot to most people; would Logan’s roommate be upset that Logan wasn’t there all day? While Logan wasn’t interested in being friends with his new roommate, it would be helpful to keep a polite relationship with the person he was going to live with for the next few months.

Logan quickly entered the dorm, finding his roommate lying on the floor, eating a bag of chips. Logan cringed as the crumbs got into the carpet, but attempted to be civil nonetheless. “Hello, you must be Virgil Storm. I am your roommate, Logan-”

Logan didn’t get to finish his introduction before the man burped loudly and sat up. “Oh, I’m not Virgil.” He used his tongue to get the leftover crumbs out of his mustache. “Remus Prince, at your service!”

Logan cringed again, suddenly recognizing the man’s face. While he didn’t go to the same highschool as Logan, his resemblance was impossible to miss. “Ah, I remember now. We’ve met a few times before this, if I’m remembering correctly. You’re Roman’s twin brother, correct?”

Remus’ eyes went wide. “Yep, and your Patty’s big bro, right? My, what a small world!”

Logan couldn’t help but smile at that. “Yes, what a small world indeed.” He looked around. “Now, what are you doing in my room?”

Remus giggled. “I’m Virgil’s best friend! We were gossiping about the date he’s going on tomorrow.”

Logan nodded. “And where is he now?”

Logan heard the door open and close from behind him. Remus giggled and pointed towards the door. Logan turned around, ready to start his introductory speech again. Instead, all that came out was a quiet squeak.

Standing in the doorway, slack jawed, was V. Logan felt his cheeks turn red as he tried to come up with an appropriate response. Remus giggled again, and V then seemed to realize that Remus was there. “Remus, leave.”

Remus whined. “But we were gonna talk about the guy that made your heart flutter and your di-”

Virgil growled. “Out, Remus.”

Remus stared at the two of them while Logan continued to silently blush. He seemed to come to the correct conclusion as he laughed. “Well, the world’s even smaller than I thought it was. Have fun you two!” And with one last laugh and something whispered into Virgil’s ear, Remus left.

Logan and V- no, Virgil- stared at each other before Virgil started laughing. Logan soon joined him, and they became a giggling mess. Virgil wiped away a fake tear. “What are the odds?”

“Of the two of us being roommates at the same college? Without informing the other of what state we were moving to?” Logan adjusted his glasses. “Too small to consider.”

There was a pause before Virgil spoke up. “Well, I know we have a date planned for tomorrow, but we have two perfectly usable beds right here, and-”

This wasn’t the first time that Virgil was unable to finish telling Logan what he wanted to do, and it wouldn’t be the last. But Virgil was okay with that, if it meant that he was feeling Logan’s lips on his.

[needs-to-stop-looking-at-yigas]

Hey, wonderful Yiga Scribe!! Wondering if you could treat us to the boys having some sleepy morning sex? If Sooga initiates it all romantic-like, the better :3

Oh that's ABSOLUTELY adorable. Let's do it!

Sooga still wasn't used to sleeping. Used to being unconscious, used to being so vulnerable for so long. He almost hated it. But there was ONE thing that made the unsettling feeling bearable. Master Kohga. He was the first thing he saw once he awoke, and it made all unease go away, like muck being washed away by the purest water. He looked so pure in his arms, his bare body felt so soft in his own. He couldn't resist leaning down to peck at his cheek.

"You're so beautiful...so wonderful. So precious to me."

He wasn't even awake just yet. Supposed it WAS a bit early for him. He should leave him alone. But...well. Man was always selfish in the face of beauty. He kissed at his cheek, his shoulder, his chin. Right till Kohga groggily woke up. One would assume he was grumpy, but Kohga was just chuckling, letting himself be kissed by this wall of a man.

"Hey hey, knock it off….idiot, I'm trying to sleep here."

"I'm not hearing 'command', so I'm afraid I cannot obey. So sorry."

"No you’re not!"

"Good point."

They BOTH chuckled at that, with Kohga accepting the assaults of affection. Kohga was half asleep, and the dreary look on his face really stole Sooga's poor heart.

"Master Kohga? I'd...like to ask your permission for something."

"If it's getting up to work, permission denied."

"No no, I...I don't want to work. I...would like to make love to you, please."

Kohga groaned, putting his hand on Sooga’s face.

"I don't wanna do any work, Sooga. We do it, imma just be laying here the whole time like a doll."

Like a doll. The fact that notion made him harder was perplexing. He kissed alongside his shoulder, down his arm, right down to those soft, nimble fingers.

"I have no qualms. If you do not want me, that is a different story. If it's an issue on labor...I can assure you, I'll pull my weight."

Kohga chuckled, shaking his head as he stretched, then settled again.

"Alright, alright. Get your kicks, pretty boy."

Sooga didn’t hesitate to softly massage his ass in his hand, all while his lips kept smooching his Master so affectionately.

"Sleep all you'd like, my Master. I will enjoy you, and all you have to offer. My precious doll…"

He liked that. Something pretty, something precious, to be in his arms forever. Kohga, half asleep, chuckled as Sooga’s boner rubbed against his ass.

"Mmm...for someone who wants their cock in my ass, you’re kinda sweet."

"I try."

He chuckled. He rubbed the head of his cock against his ass, nudging it until it slowly pushed itself into his ass. Sooga moaned a swear under his breath, slowly rolling his hips into Kohga, all while he was rubbing that big, precious belly. So soft, so warm, so tight around him. Sooga kept moving at a slow ish pace, hands kneading and palming at that soft stomach.

"I like your stomach."

"Ah ah ah. Right name."

"...poochy tummy. I like your poochy tummy."

Kohga chuckled, not doing a DAMN thing but sitting there and looking pretty.

"How much stupid shit would you say for me?"

"I hate that I know where this is going. But, anything you wish to hear, I'll say it."

Kohga chuckled, scratching his mane of pretty hair.

"Say 'I like your tummy wummy, Master Kohga'."

"...I like your tummy wummy, Master Kohga."

Kohga chuckled, getting a kick out of this, clearly.

"Say 'your belly is perfect for my cummies'"

"For the love of-your belly is perfect for my...c-cummies."

"You're so stupid."

"You're so stupid."

"I didn't say repeat!"

Kohga huffed, lightly slapping Sooga’s smug face. It was such cute, playful banter, and Sooga’s cock was THROBBING. It was so cute, so romantic, so precious, Sooga wanted to stuff him like a cream puff. Kohga grumbled a bit, pretending to be angry.

"Cheeky bastard. Alright, smart ass, let's get you saying something I think you'd like. Say 'my cock is throbbing'. But do it in that voice I like."

"...voice?"

"Yeah, the sexy one!"

"I have a sexy voice?"

Kohga turned to look at him, clearly gobsmacked, before lightly sighing.

"Just...shut the hell up and give me some tongue, boy."

Sooga obeyed, pressing his lips against his, and slowly, sensually caressing the other's tongue with his own. The way he moaned into his mouth, the way he purred for more. It was too much for Sooga.

"I'm g-gonna...c-can I finish-"

"Go ahead, in my ass is totally fine."

Sooga swore up quite the storm, lost in the sweet, tender lust. It was but mere moments before he came, shoving his load right into Kohga's ass. Kohga chuckled, moving his ass back and forth, smearing the cum all over that sensitive cock.

"Thank...you. I REALLY like doing that with you."

"I can tell, you got a decent load in, big boy. You good enough to go back to sleep?"

Sooga nodded, burying his face in his neck, and sighing oh so lovingly.

"You're so wonderful. My little doll. My precious, sweet-"

"Sleep, dumbass."

"Yes, Master Kohga."

His precious doll. He loved him oh so terribly much.

[noladyme]

Chess. Chapter 7

Y/N never hurt anyone who didn’t deserve it. She only took what she needed, or what she felt others needed. She’d stayed out of sight for a long time, avoiding anything that could get her in to too much trouble. But for some reason Rick Flag shows up in her life, and in an instant, everything changes.

TW: Language, sexual themes, injuries. Rated M for sMut. You knew we’d get here at some point.

(This story is obviously non-canon, i.e. Diablo and GQ, but I hope you’ll enjoy it either way. Let me know if you want to be added to the tag list.)

---

I felt the blast before I heard it. It pushed me into the air, hot and forcefully.

The sound made my ears pop as I flew.

This is it. I’m dying in a second.

I hit the ground. Blackness.

An eternity went by.

“She’s under that car!”.

“Get a crowbar or something!”.

Metallic screeches. The air smelled like smoke; and I coughed.

“Chess? Kid? Are you in there?”.

“Mami, say something!”.

“I’m here”, I croaked. I tried to crawl towards the voices, but my foot wouldn’t move.

It was dark around me. Feeling my way with my hands, I felt something like a handle, recognizing it as belonging to a car door.

“Y/N”, I head Flag yell.

I pushed at the door, making a crack to let in some light.

“Croc!”, Flag yelled, and the door was ripped away from over me. I looked up at the squads worried faces. Flag grabbed my arms, trying to get me up.

“I’m stuck”, I wimpered.

Croc, Floyd and Diablo put their backs against the car that pinned my ankle down. Digger and Flag each took one of my arms.

In the background I saw Harley yelling at the soldiers to help.

“1... 2… 3!”, Floyd counted, and the three men pushed at the car, lifting it slightly, allowing the other two to pull me free.

I scrambled forward, ending up in Flags arms.

“Chopper inbound”, Edwards called, and Flag picked me up, carrying me in the direction of rotor sounds.

“Beta Team are clearing out any stragglers. We’re good to liftoff”, Edwards said, as we moved to the chopper.

Setting me down in one of the seats, strapping me in; Flag pulled out a bowie knife, and started cutting open the bottom of my pantleg, and then took of my boot.

“Don’t joke about me ripping your clothes off”, he grumbled; as I tried to hide a smile.

Determining that my ankle was most likely not broken, Flag went to his own seat, and strapped in for the ride back to Belle Reve.

---

Celebrating a job semi well done, we were granted a case of beer; outdated a few months earlier.

I’d had the chance to wash up, and put on my prisoner clothes, before Flag arrived at my cell, strapping me back up in the harness. I put my flannel over it.

“You don’t want to miss the party”, he’d said, and had a group of guards transport me in a wheelchair to the gym.

I hadn’t seen a doctor for my ankle; which I wasn’t surprised about; but the alcohol, and a couple of little pink “friends” – as Digger had called them, after he pushed them into my hand – made the pain bearable.

Harley had helped me out with a bandage; so sitting there in the wheelchair, drinking the stale beer, leg raised by a folding chair, I was content.

The guards had also “blessed” us with a small karaoke machine, and I was chuckling my way through Diggers strangely erotic rendition of Waltzing Mathilda.

“And he sang as he sat, and waited while his billy boiled: You’ll come a waltzing Mathilda with meeee”; he moaned; one hand pointing into the air, hips thrusting to what I guessed he thought was the beat of the song.

“You did good, kid”, Floyd said from next to me. “Made a choice probably none of us would”. He took a sip of his own beer.

“I guess so”, I answered.

“Now don’t get me wrong, doll”, he continued. “Good doesn’t necessarily mean smart”.

He smirked at me.

“You know you could have died back there”.

“That probably wouldn’t have been good for team morale”, I laughed, and he nodded with a smile.

Harley took over the mic, Digger having fallen from the chair he’d been standing on. Taking a deep breath, she led us into a heavy metal version of Stand By Your Man.

Diablo and Croc were arm-wrestling; actually having a pretty even fight, as the tattooed man would let his hand light on fire every time Croc almost had him defeated.

Once Harley started bawling her way through the second chorus, I decided it was time to turn in.

Wishing Floyd a good night, I wheeled my way towards the metal door.

Edwards was standing outside it.

“Boss wants to see you”, he mumbled, cuffed me to the chair, and wheeled me off, out of the building towards some barracks next to the cellblock.

“What does he want?”, I asked.

“Don’t know, don’t care”, was the answer; as he drove me into the building, and down a hallway.

We stopped outside a door. Edwards banged on it.

“Colonel!”.

Flag opened the door. He’d cleaned up too; and was drying his hair with a towel.

“Uncuff her”, he said shortly.

“Sir?”, Edwards said.

“Do it. I’ll bring her back to her cell when we’re done”.

Edwards looked at him questioningly; but began to uncuff me from the chair.

“I’ll radio if I need you”, Flag said, and Edwards left us.

“Come in”; Flag said to me, and moved out of the way, so I could stand, and limp my way into the room.

A bed, a desk, a couple of chairs, and a minifridge were placed up against the walls of his quarters.

It was surprisingly messy. Not dirty in any way, but both chairs had become makeshift closets, and papers were spread across the desk and bed; telling me that Flag literally took his work to bed with him. I chuckled to myself, thinking it must have been a while since anyone had been in here with him.

He cleared one of the chairs and pulled it out for me to sit on.

“I don’t have bitters or ice, so you’ll have to drink it neat”, he said, handing me a glass of amber liquid I instantly recognized as whiskey.

“How’s the ankle?”, he asked, taking a sip from his own glass, and sitting down on the edge of the desk.

“It’s ok. Digger had some fun little pills in his stash, that took the edge of the pain”, I smirked, and took a sip from my glass.

“I’m sure he did”, Flag retorted, almost looking defeated. “It’s like dealing with a kindergarten. And that?”. He nodded at the bandage placed on my foot and ankle, to decrease the swelling. The thing was covered in stickers, and held together by a couple of glitter hairpins.

“Harley”, we said simultaneously, and laughed, our eyes meeting for the first time. For a second all air went out of the room; but then Flag looked down at the floor.

“They didn’t want you in the hospital wing”, he said, still not looking at me.

“I scare them, don’t I?”, I asked, finishing my drink, and putting the glass on top of a stack of files on the desk.

“They’re worried, yeah”. He finished his own drink, and took both glasses away, putting them down next to a bottle on top of the minifridge. “You’re able to disappear at will; and they don’t know you won’t sneak up on them, and slit their throats”.

“Even with this?”, I asked, gesturing towards the belts and wires strapped to my body.

“Yeah. They ain’t exactly geniuses in this joint”, he scoffed.

He went to sit on the other chair, facing me. He wrung his hands; seeming indecisive about something.

“Hey”, I said, biting my lip. “Thanks for not letting me die”. I looked at him, and smiled, trying to ease the tension in the room.

“You’re Wallers newest toy. She would have had my ass if I did”, he answered shortly.

I raised my eyebrows. “Ok. Good talk”. I went to stand, finding it difficult to put weight on my busted ankle.

Limping towards the door, I was about to knock it, hoping a nearby guard would take me back to my cell. At this point, anywhere was better than here.

“You know, I thought were smarter than that, Y/N”, Flag suddenly said, startling me. “Why would you do something so stupid? Putting yourself at risk like that?”.

“What do you mean?”, I wondered.

He chewed at his bottom lip, looking at me angrily. “You threw yourself headfirst into that situation; almost got yourself killed!” He stood up, and paced the floor, staring me down; as I stood there, mouth agape, not knowing what to say.

“I told you before, I can’t always be around to protect you. You need to be smarter than that”.

“Locking me in a dark room, treating me like and animal? Strapping me up with this bullshit chastity belt contraption? Is that what you call protecting me?”.

I was on a roll. Who does this asshole think he is?, I thought.

“Did you forget that I’m a scumbag, and that the world would be better if I just disappeared?”. I pointed an angry finger at his chest and looked him square in the face. “I was doing my job. The job you hunted me down, trapped me, and tortured me to get me to do”.

He stepped back.

“That wasn’t my call”, he said, and went to pour another glass for himself.

“Waller?”, I asked, voice low.

“She seemed to think that letting the guards here work on you a bit before we returned, would make you more compliant”. He wouldn’t meet my eyes.

I scoffed. “Why do you work for her?”.

He lowered his glass, having just been about to take a sip.

“I guess I’m a bad guy too”, he said, and drank the whole content of the glass in one swig.

I took a step forward; having forgotten all about my hurt ankle. The pain from stepping down on it, made me stumble and fall.

Flag ran over to catch me, but I hit the floor with my knees, cursing.

“Shit”, I yelped, and tried to stand again.

Flag grasped my elbow, and put his arm around my waist, supporting my weight. I pushed at his chest.

“Let go; I can take care of myself”, I said, struggling against his grasp. He held on to me, forcing me to lean against him; chest to chest.

“Would you just let me help you?”, he growled at me, putting his other arm under my knees; lifting me into the air.

Kicking my legs, I grabbed a fistful of his hair, yanking his head back, my other hand scratching at his arms.

“Get. Off. Me!”, I roared, and smacked him across the face.

Having been walking towards a chair, Flag changed direction.

“Fine!”, he barked; and let me go.

---

I landed with a bump on the bed. Shocked, all I did was stare up at him; standing over me, breathing heavily. Grasping my face with both hands, he leant over me; and planted his lips on mine.

I think I blacked out for a second – everything was Flag and his lips, tugging at mine.

His hands moved to my shoulders, gently pushing me backwards; until I was lying down underneath him; his one knee between mine.

I opened my mouth slightly, letting his soft tongue find its way to mine.

Grinding his hips against me, his groin meeting my core; it felt like I was on fire. I threw my head back and moaned.

Flags lips moved towards my neck, his hot breath sending tingles through my body. He kissed and nibbled at the sensitive skin below my ear, and moved down; reaching the spot where he’d used the strange gun to place the nano-bomb.

He suddenly groaned and pulled back; getting of the bed.

“Shit, we can’t do this”, he cursed, running his fingers through his hair, and pacing the floor again. “I shouldn’t have done that. I’m sorry. This is wrong. I should take you back to your cell”. His eyes met mine, almost pleading.

The pain in my ankle completely forgotten, I stood up. I stormed across the floor, pushed him against the wall, and grabbed the back of his neck; pulling him in to another kiss.

“I don’t give a shit if this is wrong”, I said pointedly. “You finish what you started, Flag!”.

His eyes were instantly on fire. He grabbed my bottom, and lifted me up so quickly, it was almost dizzying.

“Rick”, he breathed.

“Rick”, I smirked; and pushed my lips to his, our tongues colliding, and fighting for dominance. He tasted like whiskey and chewing gum.

As I straddled his waist, he spun us around; pushing me against the wall – his hips grinding against my core once more. He grabbed at my collar, pulling it down; and nibbled and licked my exposed neck and shoulder.

The sensation almost sent me over the edge, as I felt his hardening member through his cargo pants, rubbing against my most sensitive spot.

I’m about to have sex with a guy who wears cargo pants, I chuckled to myself.

“What”, Rick asked, out of breath.

“Nothing”, I answered. “Just keep going”.

He carried me to the bed, and laid me down; my legs still in a tight grip around his body. His weight on me put even more pressure on my core, and I gasped loudly.

“Eager kitten, aren’t you?”, he chuckled into my ear, and tugged at my lobe with his teeth. My eyes rolled back, and I let out a mewl, as his fingertips travelled down my side, ending up at my waistband.

He ran one finger along the band, once again kissing me, this time softly; exploring the curves of my lips with his own.

He sat up on his knees suddenly, making my butt move up his thighs; as I was still holding on to him something fierce, with my own.

He looked down at me, soft eyes exploring my own, then travelling down my body.

“You sure you want this?”, he asked. Biting my lip, I nodded.

Rick pulled of his t-shirt, and as it travelled up his body, I swallowed hard. His muscles flexed, revealing the reason he was so strong.

Colonel Flag worked out! He was fit; slender, but not skinny. His muscles were defined, and his skin smooth and tanned. I ran a hand up his torso, and scratched at his chest; feeling the small amount of hair there, soft against my fingertips.

Throwing his t-shirt on the floor, he smiled smugly, and chuckled at me. Putting his hand around my back, he pulled me up into a seated position on his lap; our faces inches from each other.

I felt his breath again, warm; and he grabbed my bottom lip between his teeth, nibling slightly, before exhaling and looking me into the eyes again.

My body was frozen in place. What the hell are you doing to me, colonel?, I thought.

“Let’s get this of you”, Rick smiled, and pulled at my flannel shirt. Taking it of me, he threw it behind his back; and it landed on the desk, knocking over one of his piles, making us both laugh.

I ran my fingertips down his spine, as he leaned in for another kiss. I teased him; pulling my mouth away at the last second, tilting my head, and biting my bottom lip.

He tried again, and as I did the same thing; his eyes on fire, he growled, and grabbed both my hips.

He lifted me from his lap effortlessly, and threw me backwards, making me land on the middle of the bed, on top of the papers strewn there.

With one hand, he took a firm grip around my wrists, holding them over my head.

I giggled and struggled against his grip, as he straddled my legs with his own, and grabbed the bottom of my face; kissing my lips passionately.

“Who’s the eager one now?”, I smirked at him, as he pulled back. His answer was to kiss me again, grab my hip with one hand, and flip me over; still holding on to my wrists. Grabbing and squeezing my buttcheek, he leant over, and whispered in my ear from behind me.

“I can stop any time you ask”, he breathed, and chuckled when I mewled in response to his fingers close vicinity to my core.

He smacked my butt, and flipped me over again; this time letting go of my wrists, and sitting back up.

I threw myself at him – our lips once again meeting – one hand in his hair, the other scratching his back from top to bottom, ending up at his waistband; slipping my fingers underneath it, to stroke the top of his ass. It was firm; and I was eager to find out how it looked.

Smiling giddily, I started undoing his belt; as he sat back, hands behind him, looking at me intently.

Opening his pants fly, I noticed the fabric of his boxers struggling to keep the little colonel in place. Rick inhaled quickly, as I let my finger softly stroke his length through the fabric.

Biting my lip, I looked up at him. One eyebrow raised, he smirked at me. You’re a smug sonofabitch, I thought – but I had to admit to myself that he did have plenty to be smug about.

Rick leaned back towards me, and as his tongue restarted its exploration of my mouth, he started tugging at the hem of my tank top, trying to get it over my head – something that turned out to be an impossible task, due to the harness I was still wearing.

“Shit “, Rick said.

I sat back on the bed and sighed. I knew this had been too good to be true.

Rick caught my eyes, as if searching for something. He shook his head.

“Fuck it”, he said. He got up, walked to his desk, and opened the top drawer. He took out his key to the disc on my chest.

Once he got back to the bed, he unlocked the harness; and I lifted my butt slightly, letting him pull it off me.

He quickly threw it on the floor, and looked down at me, as I sat there – eyelevel with his stomach.

I ran my hand up his toned torso, and he grabbed my wrists again, lifting my arms into the air. Then – as eagerly as he had with the harness – he pulled my tank top over my head, leaving me in my bra and shorts.

He ran a finger across the uncovered top part of my breast, giving me goosebumps, and making me tingle in all the right places.

I looked up at him, once again biting my lip.

“You’ve got to stop doing that, kitten”, Rick breathed. “You don’t know what it does to me”.

Placing my palm over his covered member, gently squeezing it; feeling it’s warmth through the fabric.

“I can tell exactly what it does to you”, I smirked, licked my lips, and kissed his stomach just above the waistband of his boxers.

I started tugging at his cargo pants, and he stepped out of them, kicking them away.

Still seated, I put my hands on each of his butt cheeks, and pulled him closer to my face.

Looking up at him, I opened my mouth and put my lips on his length. His eyes widened, as he gave a small gasp.

“Y/N”, he breathed.

I moaned, and tugged gently at the fabric of his boxers with my teeth. Hearing him hiss, I laughed quietly; and hooked my fingers in the waistband, starting to pull down his boxers.

Behind my back, I could feel him unhooking my bra. Removing it myself; he meanwhile shucked his boxers.

Hi there, my eyes lit up. Standing at attention, Ricks member was right in front of my face; and I couldn’t help myself.

I placed one hand on his butt cheek, and the other closed around my new friend. Gently kissing the tip, I tasted the salty pre-ejaculate waiting there.

I opened my mouth; and meeting his eyes above me I took him in to my mouth, stroking his length with my hand.

I moaned, moving my head back and forth – tasting his warm skin, and feeling his veins ripple against my lips as I moved.

Ricks hands suddenly pulled at my hair, making me let go of his manhood.

Mouth still agape, I looked up at him, panting. He looked about to explode with lust.

He pushed me back in the bed, and pulled down my pants with shaking hands. Slinging them who knows where; he crawled over my body, grasping my right breast with a firm hand.

His other hand travelling upwards from my knee on the inside of my leg; he put his lips around my nipple, and sucked greedily.

I gasped loudly, as his fingers reached my covered folds. He continued to assault my right nipple for a couple of seconds more, before smirking up at me; then quickly pulled my panties to the side, and slid his finger between my wet labia.

He gave my left nipple a quick kiss, and moved his face to meet mine, grasping my lips with his own.

Continually kissing me, my hands in his hair; he stroked his finger from my entrance up to my sweet spot. Finding it engorged, he rubbed it gently between his thumb and index finger; driving me crazy with his circular motions.

My panties were discarded by joint effort.

He slid his free hand behind my torso, grasped my waist, holding on to me firmly. His member poking at my thigh, he held me down; one leg intertwining with mine.

He returned to my clit, stroking it softly.

His pleasuring hand pulled me closer and closer to the edge, when suddenly he slid his ring and middle finger inside me; and moved them in a come hither motion, rubbing his palm against my nub.

I pulled my mouth from his; gasping and moaning. A fiery tingle started spreading from my core, all the way through my arms and legs, fingers and toes.

I grasped the sheet, and threw my head back. Rick kissed and sucked at my neck, letting his warm breath there intensify the sensation on the rest of my body.

His hand continually moved – pressing upwards inside me, and downwards outside.

“I…”, I gasped.

“I know, kitten”, he breathed heavily. He kissed me again. “Let go”.

A hot wave, intense and earthmoving, washed over my body, from my core and outwards.

I didn’t scream. I didn’t breathe. My whole body tensed up, and I swear I floated into the air for a second; before dropping back down on the bed.

---

All the while, Rick had been staring at my face.

My body continued to climax, even after he had removed his hand from my warmth. He was now stroking my face, examining every inch of it with inquisitive eyes, as my muscles relaxed more and more; allowing me to breathe in a steadier pace.

“That’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen”, he said, voice low; his index finger travelling from my forehead, over my nose, and finally stroking the edges of my lips.

I sputtered with laughter.

“I mean it!”, he said. I slapped his shoulder lightly.

“My cumface is the most beautiful thing you’ve ever seen?”, I laughed at him.

“Yeah!”, he laughed.

“You can’t be serious”, I smiled.

“Well I did see an original WWII Lanchester submachine gun once, that got me pretty hard”, he smirked.

I laughed out loud again, making him chuckle.

“Speaking of hard…”, he said, and moved to lie between my legs. “… I’m not done with you”.

His eyes bore into mine; and he positioned himself at my entrance.

I gasped; and Rick slid into me slowly, letting me feel every delicious ripple of him as he did. Everything was this moment, and we started to move together.

Tag list:

@gloriousgam3r​

@hyp-oh-critical​

[makkoskafanfic]

WIP fic release

In which one Madara is the manager of the black metal band called the Akatsuki and shares a History with the Mayor of Konoha. 

@enquiringangel this might be slightly cheating as this one’s fairly recent and I might actually continue it if my brain cooperates. 

Madara wakes to a harrowing headache. He squints against the light, doing his best not to be sick and wishes he remembered to draw the curtains closed last night. It takes him some time to realise the pounding doesn’t only come from inside his skull - someone is knocking on the door of his hotel room as well.

He lurches to his feet and stumbles to the door to jerk it open.

“What,” he barks “is so urgent?”

“Wow, boss. You look like hell,” Obito takes a long look at him as he stands there in nothing but his boxers. “I could have lived without this sight.”

“Then go and bother someone else,” he tries to slam the door in the younger man’s face, but Obito holds it open with a hand. Madara feels too sick to fight, so he just wanders back to the bed and slumps down on it. “Let me die in peace.”

“Can’t do,” Obito says cheerfully. “It’s 10 already, we need to check out in an hour and we have to discuss the next steps of the tour before.”

Madara groans and pushes a pillow against his face. He then remembers it’s a hotel pillow, and who knows when it had been properly washed, so throws it away.

“Aren’t you supposed to be my assistant? Do something on your own for a change. I’m dying.”

“Are you hungover?”

“I wish I was. I hardly got to drink anything last night, as Kakuzu and Kisame got into a fight at the bar and I had to smooth things over.”

“A migraine then.”

“You don’t say.”

“Where are your meds?”

“Small bag in the big bag.”

Obito fishes the pills out and pours him a glass of water. He also wets a towel and handles it over to Madara, to lay it on his face. Madara likes him a bit more than he usually does in that moment. 

He approached Madara about half a year ago, asking him to hire him. He was family - which was a good enough reason in itself to decline him in Madara’s opinion. But he had that kicked puppy look in his eyes when the older man told him to get lost. He just couldn’t go back home, he said. Not after all that happened. 

He would have been a handsome guy, if not for the ugly scar on the right side of his face. There was some tragic love story in the background. In the end Madara was weak and offered him a job if he promised he would never again bore him with the details. He doesn’t want to be involved in the woes of a twenty-two years old. He has never really gotten over his own heartbreak from his early twenties, so he was hardly a suitable person to give any advice. 

“You will get over it,” he told him. “Or maybe you won’t. Either way, I couldn’t care less about this Rin and Kakashi, so never mention them again. Here’s your contract. Money is shit, but then, I don’t really have anything for you to do.” 

Obito signed without any questions and here he was now, giving Madara his painkillers, proving to be useful in the end. 

“Are the circus freaks awake yet?” me mutters from under his wet towel.

“I heard Hidan’s yelling, so probably they are.”

“Go and check on them, won’t you? It would be great to keep the schedule for once.”

“I’m more concerned about you. Have you considered you are too old for this life?”

Madara pulls the towel off his face and raises his head with an effort to glare at Obito.

“I’m forty-seven you disrespectful little shit. I’m not old.”

“Whatever you say, gramps. Do I need to help to get you into the shower?”

Madara scrunches the towel into a ball and throws it at Obito. It hits him on the neck with a satisfying wet smack. 

“Keep your hands to yourself and run me through the schedule.” 

He gets to his feet, feeling marginally better as the painkillers start to kick in. He definitely feels the age in his back and he stretches, but he is careful not to wince as Obito is watching. He leaves the bathroom door slightly ajar, allowing the voice of his so-called assistant to carry through. He doesn’t listen as he knows everything by heart, but he might as well let him play being important. Madara, as the meticulous person he is, doesn’t forget the details of the tour plan. It’s a useful trait to have for the manager of the band, although it probably would come as a surprise to the fans who remember Madara as a chaotic rock star.

He used to be quite famous, being on the stage for a good fifteen years. He had a carefully built image, with everything in the book - the sometimes sensual, sometimes rude and shocking lyrics, the wild guitar riffs, a voice that had a classical education but was put to the best use when screaming into the mic. He used to have the looks, with his long mane of hair, the wiry muscles on his chest and arms that made him look good shirtless on the stage.

The rumours, the gossip and scandals that came with that lifestyle never bothered him. They had very little foundation - outside his stage persona, Madara has always been a reserved man, but that wasn’t what the fans wanted to see and in his opinion everybody was entitled to the illusions they preferred.

Madara has always been a smart man, too. As he passed fourty, all that came with the show, the tours, the gigs, the albums, the photo shoots started to get too much. So he just quit it, without any plan in place with what he wanted to do with his life. 

He didn’t enjoy retirement, but then, it lasted about two months. He was approached by Yahiko, or as he became known on his stage name, by Pain, offering him the role of the manager for his newly formed black metal band, The Akatsuki. He already had the members, he explained, just needed someone with experience in the industry to help them break through.

Madara agreed to meet the band and realised that Yahiko-Pain, with his numerous piercings, spikey carrot-red hair and well formed messiah-complex was the least weird of them all still. He thought they wouldn’t last a month, but out of boredom he agreed to be their manager. It would be a laugh, he considered, some trash band with a manager who had no idea what he was doing.

Almost seven years have passed since. The Akatsuki have become surprisingly successful within their genre and Madara is still managing them. He didn’t even like them - on some days, like today, he outright loathes them - but he couldn’t figure out what else to do with the rest of his life.

By the time he checks out in the lobby, he feels mostly human again. The horrible migraine quilted down to an annoying, but bearable headache. He has his jacket zipped up to his chin, his hair up in a ponytail and large sunglasses covering most of his face, and nobody spares him a second glance. 

“Madara, you fucking bastard,” Hidan, the guitarist shrieks at him when he approaches their bus. Madara doesn’t even wince - he has accepted years ago that Hidan is incapable of speaking in a normal tone or without unnecessary swear words. While his skills on the guitar are mediocre at best, he is a vital part of the show.  One can always count on him to be shocking, offensive and obscene. He’s a considerable contributor to the spotlight the band gets on the media. “Last night was fucking awesome, man! The crowd just ate it all up! Where are we up next? Iwa? We will rock them! Haha! Kakuzu, you limp dick, do you get it? Rock them, as Iwa is…”

“Actually we’ve been in Iwa half a year ago,” Obito interrupts, as he still didn’t learn to just ignore Hidan. “That’s where we started the tour, remember. Our next stop is… Konoha,” he looks sour and Madara makes a mental note not to sit next to him on the drive. It’s going to 

be a long one and he can’t bear listening to him go off about Rin-Kakashi-Rin-Kakashi-Rin-Kakashi again.

Especially as he’s not the only one upset by going back to Konoha. It’s not the first time Madara will be back of course - he has left over twenty years ago, and the town has become too prominent to miss out on tours. He was a nervous wreck on all occasions before and he’s not sure this time will be different. Well over two decades have passed, but Madara is not very good at moving on.

They all climb into the bus, which is getting rather small or rather, their team is getting too big. The four members of the band, Madara, Obito, Pain’s lethargic girlfriend slash occasional keyboardist and the “arts” team who are responsible for everything that happens on the stage that’s not music, from pyrotechnics to setting up equipment.

Kakuzu, their bassist, is behind the wheels as he claimed a driver is just a waste of money and the others couldn’t care less about who was driving. Madara sits down next to him on the front seat as the man at least doesn’t talk much. They all settle slowly, Pain and Konan in the back, so they can make out as they usually do, Hidan bickering with the blond arts kid, Kisame, the drummer, grumbling something about ergonomy as he tries to fold his tall frame into the seat. Obito sits next to him, seeming ready to start off his tirade about his bloody annoying love triangle. 

Madara puts in some music so he doesn’t have to listen to any of them and decides on feigning sleep on the majority of the trip. He can already feel anxiety setting down inside his very bones. Going home isn’t something he looks forward to.

[txtdiaries]

Void - Chapter Two

SUMMARY | Amidst your world shattering to pieces, the boy you met long ago manages to fit everything back together again. Also - zombies. Lots and lots of zombies.

PAIRING | Yeonjun X Reader feat. TXT

CATEGORY | apocalypse au, end of the world, survival, angst, romance, enemies to lovers, slow burn, etc.

WORD COUNT | 2.8k

WARNINGS | dark content, swearing, gore, weapon possession, etc.

A/N | So this isn’t that long and I kinda don’t really like it but I hope some of you enjoy it at least. It also hasn’t rlly been proofread so uhhh we’ll see how that goes. Chapter 3 up soon!

SONG REC | Blood In The Cut (Aire Atlantica Remix) - K.Flay

Preview / Chapter One / Chapter Two / Chapter Three

The tension in the jeep is thick as the girl in the trunk compartment thrashes and screams, her legs jolting forward to kick at the seats ahead and hands struggling to pull apart her rope restraints. Her attempt falls flat due to the tight knots in the rope and the tape around her mouth, but she still tries.

It’s not an ideal situation – Yeonjun knows– but neither is being stuck in a different country with an empty tank of gas, so hey. Every man for themself, right?

He tries to ignore the feeling of guilt pooling at the bottom of his stomach as he glances down at the now full gas gauge that gleams back at him; instead, he eases onto the pedal below his boot. At least now they don’t have to worry about not making it to the next stop - because of this, the situation is that much more bearable.

Even though he feels like shit for wasting tape, rope, and time on the girl, he tries to keep telling himself that it’s not his fault. If anything, it’s hers. If she had just left them all alone in the first place, none of them would be stuck in this situation, and it would be a hell of a lot less awkward. Just as he is thinking this, he hears Soobin speak up from the back.

“This would be a lot easier if we couldn’t see or hear her, dude.” He is seated right next to the girl, and his hands are gripping onto her shoulders tightly to try and get her to stop moving. Although Soobin is definitely stronger than the girl, she still struggles. Yeonjun has to give her props for her perseverance. After a second, he focuses his gaze back in front of him and steers the jeep back onto the road; still not responding to his friend.

“You’re going to get tired if you keep doing that,” Soobin finally talks to the girl after a few more minutes of her annoying movements, voice low so he doesn’t bother anyone else in the car, “Stop moving so much. I won’t hurt you, you know.”

“Stop talking to her.” The eldest snaps from the front, irritated now because he can feel a headache coming on, but also because he doesn’t like Soobin being so close to her. He doesn’t know why, but something about it just bugs him. After a few more rounds of worrying about the fact that they practically kidnapped the girl – no, she did it to herself – he decides to just force himself to stop thinking about it. If he dwells on anything anymore, he knows for a fact that he will drive himself fucking insane.

He takes a deep breath and finally accelerates, pushing the speedometer to 85 before setting the cruise control. He takes an experimental glance in the rearview to “check to make sure there’s nothing behind them” but looks away when he sees what he was curious about the whole time.

The girl has given up on her struggling and lets out a defeated huff before slumping her body against Soobin’s. Yeonjun doesn’t let himself stare for long – he rips his gaze away from the two and focuses back on the road after a few seconds.

He feels it in his bones: It is going to be a very long drive.

After a few hours of his tunnel vision taking up most of his attention, Yeonjun finally decides that it is time to take a break. He feels the tension in his shoulders and arms when he slightly flexes them, and then sighs. A few miles back there was a sign signifying a rest stop, and Yeonjun feels a little more relaxed when it appears in the distance, slowly getting closer and closer.

“We’re going to stop for a break.” He announces, noticing that his words wake a few of the other passengers in the car. The eldest angles the wheel slightly, preparing to merge off the road so they can pull onto the off ramp and move toward the rest stop. From what he can see, the brick building is cracked and falling apart, but it is still standing.

Yeonjun glances in the rearview again – a habit he’s kept up from his years of driving (always check your mirrors before making any movement into another lane, especially on highways, his old driving instructor had taught him) - but he wishes he hadn’t, just this once. It’s not that he needs to anymore, given the end of the world and all, but it seems old habits die hard. More than anything, he wishes they wouldn’t.

Rested upon Soobin’s shoulder is the girl who’s name he still doesn’t know, eyes closed as she sleeps deeply. His best friend’s head is rested atop hers as well, and he’s gazing outside the window silently, letting her rest where she is. Yeonjun feels his stomach twist with jealousy, and he doesn’t know why he can’t stomp it down this time. Hell, he doesn’t even know why he’s feeling it. The whole thing makes him feel sick.

Soobin softly nudges the girl awake and whispers something to her, and Yeonjun takes this as his opportunity to focus on parking. He’d rather get decked in the throat than have to witness that again.

After he puts the jeep in park and everyone else piles out of the cramped car, Yeonjun pops the trunk and makes his way back to it to help the girl out.

“I’ve got it.” Soobin says once he realizes his friend’s intensions, arm already secured around her waist. Yeonjun shakes his head and awkwardly pries his hand off of her, the same hand wrapping around her wrist after, “It’s all good, you already had to deal with her sleeping on you. I’ll take her to the bathroom; you stay with the boys.”

“Hyung, I have to pee.” The youngest of the group says in a whiny voice, bouncing on the heels of his feet impatiently before giving him a desperate look. Yeonjun almost laughs.

“Okay, Soobin, take him to the men’s room. Tae, stay with Beom. You all know the drill. Five minutes tops and be back here on time.”

The boys all nod in agreement and the eldest is glad no one argues, not wasting anymore time before pulling the girl gently along with him toward the vacant, disheveled building.

“Do you have to go to the bathroom?” He asks her softly once they have turned around the brick wall leading to the bathrooms and separating them from the other boys. He angles his head down as he speaks to her, trying to get a better look. She shakes her head and tries to speak, but she can’t, given the tape covering her lips. The blue-haired boys leads her through the doorway into the bathroom he is sure she finds equally as disgusting as he does, and looks at her again. He doesn’t have to say anything, he just gives her a look to stay put as he carefully checks each individual stall in the room, and then finally makes his way back over once he knows they are alone.

“I’m going to take the tape off of your mouth and untie you, but please don’t try running. I promise, the most it’ll get you is a zombie bite to the body or another one of my friends catching you. Just stay, alright?”

The girl sighs and nods at him. He hesitates before biting his lip and nodding back, squatting easily to remove the restraints around her ankles. After he’s done, he undoes the ones around her wrists, and finally, stands to his full height to study her face.

The boy can feel his heart beating in his chest as he carefully pinches the corner of the tape in-between his pointer digit and thumb, and he winces with the girl as he tries to pull it off of her as gently as possible. He notices the slight whine that leaves her lips when he rips off the final part, and he’s only just looked up into her eyes for about a second before her voice is echoing loudly against the bathroom walls.

“You absolute fucking dickhead!”

Yeonjun takes an instinctive step back before standing up straight, her outburst truthfully startling him.

“I-“

“Don’t talk!” She snaps, still continuing her outburst. Yeonjun’s blood runs cold.

“I don’t even know where to start. First you steal my gas, and then you kidnap me, and then you have the fucking audacity to ask me if I have to go to the bathroom in this disgusting rest stop? Oh my god-” She runs her hands through her hair and groans loudly, tilting her head back up toward Yeonjun before glaring, “What is wrong with you!? Didn’t your mother ever teach you manners?”

Truthfully, the blue-haired boy doesn’t know what to say to the girl. She’s livid, that’s fucking obvious, but even more so, she looks terrified. Yeonjun feels the guilt now, it’s full force and clawing its way up through his throat. If he could apologize in a way he knew she’d accept, he would.

“You didn’t exactly give me any choice.” He says to the girl, voice as soft as possible, scared he’ll piss her off even more if he raises it. It seems it doesn’t really matter anyway, because she is still fuming with anger when she speaks again.

“That is bullshit!” Her voice is so loud, Yeonjun is scared that the boys outside might hear it.

“I really think you should-” She cuts him off.

“Don’t tell me what to do! How idiotic can someone be!?”

“Listen, I really think you might want to-”

“How many times do I have to tell you to-!”

She freezes when she sees the absolute look of horror on Yeonjun’s face.

She turns toward the entrance where he is looking and she feels fear run through her veins.

A zombie, skin rotting and insides hanging halfway out of its stomach turns the corner of the wall, separating the two of them from it, as it limps slowly and curiously toward the bathroom entrance.

The girl can barely react before Yeonjun is grabbing her arm and dragging her to the left, into one of the small, cramped stalls before he locks it behind them.

The girl meets his eyes as his hand clamps down over her mouth. She wants to cry, and he wants to scream, because they both realize the same thing in the exact same moment; Yeonjun forgot his fucking baseball bat.

It is deadly quiet in the bathroom when they hear the heavy, unnatural footsteps echo on the tile, and Yeonjun has to keep telling himself that it is fine. That they won’t die in this gross bathroom because he’s an idiot who got distracted, and that they won’t be zombie dinner in the next couple of seconds because his priorities lied in the girl instead of in his weapon. His fear suddenly turns to anger when the girl rips his hand away from her mouth and leans up to speak into his ear, voice so low Yeonjun has to hold his breath to hear it.

“This is your fault, asshole.”

“How is this my fault? I’m not the one who was screaming so loud Utah could hear it!” He whisper-shouts in the same manner, using the knowledge of the map he had studied earlier to make his point. He’s blaming her, but he knows the fault isn’t just on her. It’s on the both of them. 

The girl rolls her eyes, but before she can reply, a low, guttural growl echoes out through the bathroom.

 The noise sends her curling into Yeonjun’s chest, gripping onto his shoulders for dear life. She’s scared, he suddenly realizes. The girl with the tempter and killer attitude is scared, and it’s his fault.

“Hey…” He suddenly says to her, his anger melting away almost like water running down a tap, voice softening around the edges as he leans in closer to the girl. His guilt from earlier increases tenfold.

“It’s going to be fine...” He says to her quietly, slowly and silently sinking their bodies down to the ground with the girl still against him. He knows if he can see under the gap in the stall door, he can time their escape. All he has to do is wait until the undead figure’s body is in the right position.

“Now’s not the time to make a move.” The girl whispers sarcastically, voice shaking even though she’s trying to sound tough. Yeonjun rests a hand on her hair comfortingly, even though all he really needs her to do is stop talking.

“I’m serious, I know you’re tall and have cool hair and all that, but don’t think that’s grounds for-“

“Shut up.” The boy growls into her ear, voice as low as she’s ever heard it thus far, causing her mouth to snap shut instantly. She hates that she found that hot.

The two are silent again, waiting for the footsteps to do anything but come closer. It is only once the girl repositions awkwardly, does Yeonjun realize how close she really is. Her entire front is pressed up against his, with her leg even thrown over his hip as she sits awkwardly, and he can’t move. He wants to clear his throat, do anything to relieve the tension he is feeling, but he can’t.

He can’t move, until the footsteps suddenly stop.

He’s only just made eye contact with the girl wrapped up around him before a loud, deafening bang causes the stall door to concave in momentarily, the lock barely holding it closed. It rings in their ears as another growl emits from the zombie, and then Yeonjun feels his body spring into action. He quickly removes the bandana tied securely around his wrist and flings it under the stall, as far away from the two of them as possible.

The screaming figure launches itself toward the movement, and Yeonjun pushes them both up, flicking the lock before realizing he is carrying the girl around his waist and halfway in his arms. He doesn’t have time to do anything except run as fast as he can out of the bathroom, both him and the girl in his arms breathing heavily in fear as they escape. At this point, he can’t tell if the zombie is screaming or if he is.

Once they’re outside the bathroom, he drops the girl onto both legs and they race to the Jeep, Yeonjun only speaking after they’re close enough, and his members can hear him. He knows the figure is on their heels just by the smell.

“BEOMGYU. BAT, NOW.”

Yeonjun doesn’t have to clarify as his friend’s eyes go wide and he sees the chaos happening before him. Two running figures and a rotting dead corpse following close behind, so enraged it looks like it might kill all of them if it got the chance. He doesn’t hesitate.

Beomgyu quickly pulls the blue-haired boy’s bat from between the seats and under-hands it toward him. Yeonjun catches it skillfully before spinning his body in its tracks, launching forward before the hard aluminum comes in contact with the zombie’s face, its scream muffled once the blow impacts its frontal skull.

Yeonjun doesn’t have to put as much force into flooring the body as he does, but he just chalks it up to anger and irritation. Finally, once the dust settles and his hands stop shaking, Yeonjun is left panting heavily. It was close. Far too close for his comfort.

Everyone is silent, until the girl speaks again.

“Are you… uh-“

She doesn’t know how to word any of this, and she can see just how stressed out the boy is. She feels like it’s her fault – she knows it is – and now it’s her turn to feel guilty.

“Two hundred six.” Yeonjun says lowly, his voice almost lost in the wind as he drops the top of the bat onto the dirt and keeps hold of the handle. He takes another deep breath before turning and walking slowly back to the car, weapon dragging behind him.

“I’m-“

He doesn’t stop to listen to what the girl has to say, only walks past her silently before making his way back into the driver’s seat. The rest of the boys are silent as they follow suit. They all ignore the girl, until she finally speaks up again.

“Hey, uh… Beomgyu?” She’s talking to the blonde who opens the passenger side door, only looking at her out of surprise when he realizes she’s talking to him. She doesn’t know how good her excuse will be, but she knows she has to apologize to the eldest boy, and there is only one way to do it.

“I almost got mauled by a zombie, I think I deserve shot gun.”

[halo-jpeg]

Bearable | A Reddie Fanfiction

Read it from the beginning

Chapter 3

Eddie stood looking at himself in the mirror. The sky outside of his window was darkening, on the brink of sunset right near 6:30 pm. He was dressed in what he considered his 'party clothes', or at least the closest thing he could find- he wore a brown plaid button-up tee with a darker brown v-neck sweater, finally finished off with a pair of khaki pants. It was nothing special, really, but it was probably the most, as Bill had put it, 'chillax' thing he currently owned. Living with his mother, Eddie had grown used to wearing what she bought him and only what she bought him, which only consisted of simple tees, polo shirts and, of course, his occasional button-up. The sweater he currently wore had been a gift from Stan for his 18th birthday- he has gotten a similar one for his 19th as wel.

"St-Stan? Eddie? Ruh-ready to go?" Bill's voice echoed through the house, snapping Eddie from the odd trance he'd fallen into, staring right into his own reflection. Right, of course- he had a party to go to.

"Coming!" He called, and was just about to turn and leave the room when his eye was caught by an object on the surface of his dresser- It was his inhaler. For a moment, Eddie stared, and felt as if it were calling to him. He hadn't used it for months until the fight with his mother, and already he had vowed not to use it again. He'd been trying to shake the habit of using it just as he had started faking swallowing his old placebos; sadly, however, the effects of his false-asthma still kicked in so hard he had to take a puff or two. Eddie's lungs felt tight with anxiety at the idea of this stupid party, and he only debated for one more moment before grabbing the inhaler and jamming it into his pocket, just in case. He was quick to join his two friends, and they both set off- umbrellas in tow- into the now-starting rain.

***

It had been approximately 10 seconds and Eddie was fighting back over stimulation. Shit, he hasn't even knocked on the apartment door yet, and the booming, thumping music with it's impossibly heavy base was already putting him on edge. Stan was close to his side, Bill just a few paces ahead, and though he was more than grateful for their comforting, familiar presence he was terrified. Eddie didn't know these people. He was walking into a strangers home. He'd seen horror movies, he knows what happens in big, crowded parties with alcohol and hormonal teens and what happens is they get slashed by a serial killer. Maybe it was just paranoia, but Eddie was already wishing he could turn tail and flee. Bill, Stan and he stopped in front of the door belonging to the source of the noise, and that anxiety in the pit of his stomach tripled, if that was even something that could happen at this point. Eddie tried his very best to suck in deep breaths, but they came in with a slight whistle and made his chest ache.

"Ready?" Stan said, quickly straightening out the collar of his navy dress shirt, passing a quick glance and a warm smile in Eddie's direction, "It'll be okay, Eddie, you can stick by our side the whole time." Eddie nodded his head, clasping his hands nervously together in front of him. Bill gripped the door handle, giving it a twist and pushing it wide open. Ah, yes- Eddie hates this, indeed.

"Oh, no..." The words were spoken mostly to himself, drowned out almost entirely by the speakers throbbing throughout the house. It was dark, the only illumination coming from colorful fairy lights strung high above everyone's heads. The place was packed with moving, dancing bodies, red solo cups held in the hands of nearly everyone. Eddie could see glow sticks wrapped around wrists and hanging from necks, and even spotted a woman in a too-short dress clashing lips with a man in a Letterman jacket. Before he really could give in a flee, a hand was set gently on his shoulder, and he turned his head to see Bill grinning down at him, his eyes alight with a mixture of excitement and concern. The question didn't need to be spoken for Eddie to know that Bill was nervous for him. With a simple shake of his head, Eddie dismissed his worries and motioned with one hand for the redhead to lead the way.

"Hey!" Before any of the three could move an all-too familiar voice rang through, slicing through the sounds of the party and calling all attention in that direction, "My dear friends, you made it!" Richie pushed past a few people on his route to the trio, his cheek-splitting grin even wider than usual and clearly under the slight influence of alcohol.

"Hey, Ruh-Richie! Thanks for inviting u-us, this is... a bigger puh-party then I've ever been to in my li-life!" Bill extended a hand for Richie to shake, and the host was quick to accept it with the one hand that wasn't harboring another one of those red cups. Eddie caught a glimpse of a dark liquid, along with the smell of booze and citrus.

"It sure is something," Stan agreed with a nod, and Richie gleamed with pride.

"Can I get you three some drinks? They may or may not be spiked. We also have, uh... grass, if that's any of your styles." Before Richie could be judged (Eddie was just about to scold him for drug use) he tacked on, "It's not my type of thing but I wouldn't mind if it was yours!" He started to laugh along with Bill, even Stan letting out a small chuckle, but Eddie was still hugely unimpressed with this all. Much to his demise, Stan the Polite had to go and agree to the drinks. Before he could protest, Richie was leading the way directly into the throng of people towards a kitchen. It was miserable. Dancers blocked the way to their desired destination, meaning the group had to push right through them. Not only was it impolite, but these teenagers were also drunk and disgusting. Eddie was trying so hard not to be so uptight, at least for one night, but he just couldn't do it. He pulled his arms into himself and braved the traverse, wincing as he began to attempt to weave through. He was pushed from all sides, sworn at by one rowdy man who he had accidentally bumped into and winked at by a drunken girl dancing with her friends. Though it was only momentary, it felt like centuries past where he was drowning among these bodies, afraid and struggling to breathe. Then, just like that, he was free on the other side, still right beside his two friends and the host who was bringing this treachery into his life.

"Quite the crowd," Eddie grumbled to Stan, both Richie and Bill failing to overhear. Stanley smiled and bumped Eddie gently with his elbow, yet again delivering a small form of reassurance. The kitchen was emptier than the rest of the house, but there were still a fair amount of party goers within it. Among them, Eddie recognized Mike leaned on the counter at the far end with two other kind-enough looking people- he also recognized these two from the coffee shop where they'd met Richie. A tall, sturdy man leaned against one wall, watching with obvious heart eyes as a redheaded girl seated on the counter chattered away about one thing or another. Right at their side sat a massive punch bowl, half empty but with plenty of other bottles of soda and alcohol around it to refill later if need be.

"Heya, you three," Richie greeted them with a smile and a wave, jabbing a thumb over his shoulder in the direction of Stan, Bill and Eddie, "I'm sure you all remember these guys." Richie spun on his heel, leaning his back against the counter and beginning introductions, "This is Bill, Stan and Eddie; and this is Beverly, Ben a Mike. Shake hands, maybe share a kiss, and give me another damn cup of punch." Eddie did none of the above, even when Bill moved forwards to do the first option. He shook hands with each new person in turn, and said his courteous 'nice to meet you'. Even Stan spoke up with a greeting and a small wave. Sure, Eddie felt like an antisocial asshole but he was having enough trouble keeping his asthma in check without touching a bunch of strangers. Speaking of his asthma, yeah, sure, it wasn't real or whatever but right now it sure felt like it was.

"Care for a drink?" Beverly hopped down from the counter, motioning towards the stack of unused cups there for the taking.

"Y-Yeah, hell yeah," Bill responded with a smile, "What... whu-what is it?"

"It smells rank," Stan grabs a cup, leaning over and staring down into the bubbling liquid, "I'd love some."

"This, my good friends, is what I call my 'Tozier Juice'- Orange juice, ginger ale, and lots and lots of alcohol, courtesy of Haystack over here," Richie patted Ben on the shoulder, sending him a friendly grin that much resembled the ones that Eddie and his two best friends shared- it was that of a close bond built on top of years and years of memories.

"Th-that actually doesn't suh-sound too bad," Both Stan and Bill helped themselves to the drink, and then they turned to Eddie. Both seemed to know that he wouldn't be interested, but a cup was offered by Bill either way. "Sh-sure you don't want any? Not even just a glass?"

"Fuck no, I don't want to ruin my liver- or my heart, or brain or-" A sharp intake of breath, it hurts,"-pancreas, for that matter. Did you know drinking too much can increase your blood pressure? Have you ever heard of a stroke?" Eddie crossed his arms, the muscles in his shoulders tensing just at the thought of what this alcohol could do to him. He could drink too much, just a little too much, and then that would be it for him. He'd collapse to the floor and he'd die right here and now. "Plus, if my mom ever found out she would kill me, like literally-"

"Hey, calm yourself, Eduardo," Suddenly, Richie's arm is sliding over his shoulders, pulling him close, too close, to that mass of tangled dark hair that could possibly be housing every louse on the planet, "This is a party, you don't have to follow mamma's rules!" Eddie shoved himself away with a grimace, his lungs closing tighter in on themselves. The contact was too close, Richie was too strange, and now Eddie was only growing more and more frightened and uncomfortable.

"Don't touch me, Richie! Jesus, that's-" Eddie shudders, his breath catching in his throat. He can feel anxiety building in his throat, climbing upwards and begging to be let out in a scream or something of the sort. Eddie hugged himself tightly, scrambling away from Richie and closer to Stan and Bill.

"Wow, Jesus, I-" Richie laughed nervously, and Eddie watched him exchange a curious glance with Stan, who only waved a hand dismissively. "Sorry, I, uh... I guess. I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable or anything." Without returning an answer, Eddie glued his gaze to the floor, feeling heat rise up his neck and into his cheeks. Now, tension hung in the air like a shroud and it was because of him. Shit. He didn't mean to ruin everything. For a minute, and then two then three then a whole fourth, no one spoke, simply sipping at their drinks and listening to the deafening music. With each second that ticked by Eddie's throat closed tighter.

"So," Beverly broke the absence of speaking first, her voice raised to overpower that music that was still so loud, so fucking loud, throat tight, head pounding, "Tell me about yourselves. Rich tells me you're going to the same Uni as us? What classes do you have?" Bill took a sip from his 'Tozier Juice', and then responded in a voice just as loud as hers- he was too loud, now, too. His words begin to blend together into a collective hum, nothing but an indecipherable murmur as Eddie held himself tighter- he could hardly breathe, oh it hurt- The weight in his pocket was tempting, so tempting, and he wanted nothing more than to pull it out and take a puff, even if it was just sugar and water. The only thing stopping him was Stan and Bill on his either side, because they were against the placebo, they were trying to wean him off of it. Overpowering that murmur now was a sharp ringing, only pierced by the sound of collective laughter, too loud, suffocating. Eddie's face drained of it's colour, and no one seemed to notice. Can't breathe. He felt frozen, all of a sudden, rooted in place as if left in the cold for too long. He couldn't move his arms, his legs, and now his throat was growing tighter. He snapped his mouth open, fighting to suck in a breath- all at once, the sound came rushing back and it was all just too overwhelming. Eddie was gasping, fighting, snapping from his trance as all air fails to rush into his lungs. All eyes turn to him, Bill, Stan, Richie, Ben, Beverly, Mike- everyone is staring at him, looking at him, as he stumbles to the counter, his legs threatening to give out, Ben hurrying out of the way as Eddie almost falls right into him. The asthma attack was so sudden, so powerful- he had reached that tipping point, and gone tumbling right over the edge. Now, his throat was swollen shut, his head was pounding, that ringing was loud and the music was louder.

"Sh-shit, Eddie!" Bill was the first one to arrive at his side, and then everyone else. Every fucking person was surrounding him. He clutched onto the counter, still gasping, face paler than a sheet as he desperately fought against his reflexes. One powerful half of his mind screamed GRAB YOUR FUCKING INHALER EDDIE GRAB IT OR YOU'LL DIE YOU'LL SUFFOCATE RIGHT HERE AND- while the other half was shouting not to because then he was failing and when you fail you disappoint and he doesn't want to be any more of a disappointment than he already is. He gasps, sputters, grits his teeth and fights to reopen his throat but it won't cooperate. Strangers gazes bear into his back. He's the center of attention. His throat his shut like a vice.

"Eddie, hey, you okay?" Stan was there, a hand on his shoulder but that was too much, this was all too much and he didn't know what to do to stop it to stop the pain and the fear and the suffocation and he can't breathe.

"Hey hey hey hey, what's happening Eds? What's wrong, what can I do?" Richie was here now too, stupid annoying Richie with his caring tone and the hand he sets on Eddie's. Just like the too-loud laughter had been what sent him over the metaphorical cliff edge towards an asthma attack, this overload of contact had been him hitting the icy waters below. Without a second thought he burst upright, both Stan and Richie falling away, and ripped his inhaler from his pocket. He pulled off the cap and stuck it between his lips, pressing the button on the top and sucking in the breath with a sudden jolt. Air passed, a minute amount, and he needed another puff, and then, finally, a third. Each one rocked through his body, trailing with it relief, euphoria, burning through his veins, his throat, down into his lungs until- he let out a gasp as the inhaler left his mouth and felt the guilt rapidly push the good feelings away. The entire group had gone silent again, until Bill stepped forwards to place a hand on Eddie's arm.

"A-Are you okay now, Eddie? Did it help?" His tone probably wasn't meant to be condescending, but that was the only emotion Eddie could get from it. No, Bill, I'm not okay and I'll never be okay because my mom fucked me up big time, Bill, is what he wanted to say but he didn't get the chance because now Stan was on his other side with that sickly sweet concern that Eddie doesn't really deserve and they probably don't really mean.

"Can I get you water? Anything?" Eddie was quick to shake his head. Stan sucked in a slow breath, and let it out in a shudder. From his peripherals, Eddie caught the sight of him and Bill sharing a glance. He didn't miss the way Stan's lips quirked down into a frown, or the feeling of Bill just slightly shrugging one shoulder. He hadn't even been here for twenty minutes and Eddie was done. They were disappointed in him. He could sense it. Jamming his inhaler back into his pocket, he shook off both hands and set off to who knows where. He didn't know this apartment and he didn't give a shit. He needed to find a bathroom, a bedroom, a balcony, a something to get him as far away from the noise as possible. He hears them calling after him, Bill and Stan and maybe Richie too but the music swallows him whole as he pushes into the crowd towards what he thinks is a door to outside. He pushes, uncaring in it's entirety, needing to get out, away, to suck in the fresh air. His lungs feel tight again, but not as tight as before and he refuses to use his inhaler. He breaks free from the crowd and lets out a wheeze of a huff, falling into the door and shoving it open and closed as quick as possible.

Just like that, it is calm. With one shoulder against the glass he can feel the reverberation, the bass shaking the building in it's place. It's quieter now, faint enough that he can feel thoughts swimming around like panicked fish. Eddie pushes off of the door and staggers towards the railing, letting himself lean on it despite what his mother would say. You're so high up, Eddie-bear, don't lean like that or you'll fall! You'll tumble right down all six floors and then you'll be done for! The mother in his mind continued on about something else, about him not loving her enough to take care of himself, about why does he hate her? What did she do for him to treat her like this? But he pushes those thoughts away and locks them in a tight little box so he doesn't burst into tears. For the first time he realizes that the rain is heavier now, pouring down in steady, thrumming sheets, blotting out the streetlights below and further muffling that music. The smell of petrichor and lightning fell around him, probing in through his open mouth and cleansing his lungs of the placebo. It was soothing, so much so that his eyes fell shut and his head tipped back. He let the utter pleasure of the weather soak into his skin, the chill biting at the tips of his nose and ears. He could catch a cold, his mother warns from inside his head, but he locks those thoughts up even tighter and tells himself he doesn't give a shit. With each deep, rain-tasting breath his lungs give way a little more until it's clear again. A few minutes pass of deep breathing, exercises he's learned through the years. Calm washes over him and now he doesn't mind the distant heartbeat of the bass. Time seeps by slowly and he doesn't mind it.

Behind him, the door opens, and the tension sets in again.

"What do you want?" Eddie's voice is cold. He doesn't know who it is, assuming it's Bill or Stan and hating that he's not right. The music grows louder and then fades again as the door opens and shuts.

"Hey, Eds," Richie shatters his peace with a tentative tone, and then he's there at his side leaning against the railing.

"Don't call me that."

"I, uh... I wanted to say sorry." The rain thrums on. Richie stands at his side. Eddie hates this party. "I... I didn't know..." Richie struggles to find the right words. The rain sounds like static, buzzing, hissing, calming. Richie should leave Eddie to enjoy this peace but he doesn't. "I didn't mean for this to happen." A heartbeat passes in time with the bass. Eddie finally answers, his words quiet, clipped, cold.

"Get lost, Richie." Richie doesn't. Instead, his movements slow, careful, he reaches into his pocket and pulls out two things- a packet of cigarettes, and a lighter. He doesn't waste his time offering one to Eddie, simply lights one for himself and takes a deep, sluggish inhale. All is quiet except for the static and the heartbeat of the bass. With an unwanted wave of vulnerability, Eddie feels his eyes begin to sting. The ocean inside of his stomach, tossing and turning and churning is made of liquid guilt. He feels horrible for failing Stan, for failing Bill, for ruining the party they'd both been so excited for. Richie takes another drag, letting out a cloud of smoke that's ripped away, sent spiraling, by the beating rain. As the party rages on just feet away, Richie stays with Eddie instead of leaving him to join back in on the fun. Eddie hates that he feels gratitude. Minutes pass, and the rain washes away the last traces of warmth. Before he knows it, Eddie is shivering, a gentle tremble that might have less to do with the cold and more to do with how exhausting it is to withhold his stinging tears.

"Here," Richie slides one arm out of his black button-up, passes his cigarette to his now free hand, and then liberates the other. Without asking, he moves towards Eddie, placing the thin fabric around his shoulders to provide as much warmth as possible. Richie returns to his place from before. A few more moments pass when Eddie finally finds the stability to answer.

"Thank you." His cheeks glow pink in the pale, black light, but Richie smiles anyways and simply nods his head. With his lungs clear and that warm gratitude calming the tidal waves of regret, he speaks in a low, quiet, shaking tone. "It seems you can keep your mouth shut, hmm?" This time, Richie laughs, a light chuckle that blends with the bass and the static in a perfect way.

"I'm making a special exception, Eddie. Don't take it for granted." Richie bites on his cigarette. He lets out another cloud of smoke. The rain slices it apart. "But, hey," Leaning on one elbow and glancing Eddie's way through his thick-framed glasses, Richie looks almost nice, "I really am sorry. If I'd known you would been stressed or over stimulated or whatever, I would have warned you." Sucking in a slow breath and letting it out in a sigh, Eddie shrugs his shoulders, pulling the black button-down tighter around him.

"It's fine. I should have handled it better.- I'm the one who should be saying sorry" At that, Richie quirked a brow.

"It's asthma, you can't really control it- unless that's some sort of super power." As an after thought, Richie added, "Pretty lame one if you ask me." Eddie held a hand out into the rain, soaking in the biting cold of each drop. It streamed down his hands, off of his fingertips.

"No, it's... it's all bullshit. Nevermind." A heartbeat passes, "You shouldn't smoke. It risks lung cancer." Silence yet again. Richie didn't ask to leave, and didn't make any move to. Once he finished his cigarette he dropped it to the ground beside him and crushed it under his heel. The two simply stood, side by side with a few feet between, looking out into the rain and soaking in the peace. The party continued on behind him, but Eddie couldn't care less. While Stan and Bill were enjoying themselves, so was he, to a degree. Richie's normally overbearing aura had calmed, dulled, softening around the edges so now it wasn't as much a bright yellow as it was a soft red.

"Eds?" Richie asked in a questioning tone, not shattering the fragile silence but rather parting it like hanging vines, "Can I make you a deal?" Eddie nodded his head. "Come by and buy coffee every once and a while and this whole ordeal is forgotten, no hard feelings. I'll make you my signature drinks on the house to apologize to you, and you come by and chat with me every few days to apologize to me." Letting out another sigh, Eddie said,

"Yeah, fine."

"And don't call me Eds."

[cowboisadness]

Hang ‘Em High {Arthur Morgan x OC} Chapter 12

Pairing: Arthur Morgan x FemOC

Summery: Belle Hawthorne is high society looking to escape her mean husband. A robbery by the Van Der Linde gang could be her chance. Can she escape his cluches and possibly discover what love should feel like?

Warnings: Mentions on injury and assault  ..... Chapter 12

I woke to blinding light. Disorientated and panic building as my mind is slow to catch up with where I could be right now. I’m still in the cabin. I can hear the men outside talking amongst themselves, unaware that I’m awake again. I push myself up noticing my hands and legs are free, ignoring the overall ache and searing pain running down my chest. I need to get out. This is my chance. If I could -

“Hey, hey it’s okay.” A feminine voice calls out beside me, gently placing their hand on my shoulder. I look over, glad that my eyes are starting to focus to see Tilly, in her beloved yellow dress. Please don’t be a dream.

“Tilly?” I squeak, my voice sounding harsher than it ever has.

“You’re safe. Here,” She passes over a flask of water. The liquid soothing my throat and easing the pounding in my head. Drinking the whole thing before passing it back, murmuring my thanks.

“I’ll go tell Arthur and Miss Grimshaw that you’re awake.” She says before leaving the tent, the covers over the entrance letting in more daylight, causing the back of my eyes to sting slightly before they closed behind her. I’m not even in my tent, not in my bedroll. I’m in Arthurs tent. Once again waking up here after passing out. I really need to make sure that doesn’t become a habit of mine. Trying to think, all I can remember was being carried out of that cabin, but I can’t even remember reaching the door. I didn't even get to see the aftermath of Johns and Arthurs handiwork. Those mens bodies spewed across the grass. Shame.

I can’t help but scoff at that thought. If my mother could hear my thoughts on how I wished to see the corpses of the men that harmed me she would turn in her grave for sure. But my brothers would be proud.

The tent flaps opened again, the sting more bearable, as Miss Grimshaw and Arthur made their way in, the former holding a small medicine bottle and some whiskey.

“How are you feeling dear?” Miss Grimshaw asks in a soothing tone I'd only heard before when I first arrived here. A serious case of Déjà vu happening.

“Like shit. I’m guessing I look it too.” I hum out a quiet laugh.

“Got you a tonic to fight any infection. And some whiskey for the pain,” She said as she placed the two bottles on the crate next to the cot. “I’ll get Pearson to whip something up for you. Then I’ll be back later to change your dressings.” I called out my thanks to her as she left, leaving just the two of us. Arthur pulled up a chair to sit beside me, picking up the whiskey as he did.

“Than-”

“I’m s-”

We both spoke at the same time, causing us to huff out a laugh. He gestured for me to go first.

“Thank you for coming for me,” I said, he looked down to the floor, his hat covering most of his face from view.

“Belle, m’ sorry we didn’t get there earlier. Me, John and Charles tried to-”

“You got there just in time. Before they…” I couldn’t even finish. But I didn't have to, the look on his face told me he knew. He saw the state I was in, the other guys’ intentions were very obvious with his pants halfway down. Thankful now that I wasn’t that far exposed but in the process of stabbing the bastard it was the last thing on my mind. My hand went down my chest as I slowly tried to sit up, feeling the layers of cloth that wrapped around my shoulder and waist then across my back through the clothing, which I also just realised are not mine. Arthur stood to help me sit, leaning me against the crates behind me. Sitting back down and handing me the now opened bottle of whiskey, drinking as he continued.

“Miss Grimshaw stitched ya up. Said it would probably scar.” I nodded and took a drink, feeling it burn as it passed down my throat. I opened my mouth to speak, only to be interrupted by the tent opening being pulled back, Dutch now making his way in, his eyes on me.

“Did you talk?” No hello, no how are you feeling...just did I talk? Talk about what exactly?

“Dutch, she's just come round-” Dutch held his hand up to halt Arthur, his eyes still trained on me.

“I need to know. Did. You. Talk?”

“Talk about what?”

“Did you tell them where we are?”

“They didn’t ask anything about you.” I looked between the two men, completely confused as to what he as asking.

“Really?”

“Dutch-”

“I told you. They never mentioned you or camp or anyone here. I don’t even know who those men were.”

“The safety of this gang depends on if you gave away any information to those men. I surely hope you are not lying to me, Mrs Hawthorne.” He spoke slowly and low as if I were a disobedient child that needed to understand every word he said. A quiet threat heard loud and clear.

“I didn’t say a word. They only cared about me. If they are a threat to you all, they never made it known.” I replied back in the same slow tone he gave to me, making sure he understood every word I said. I’ve been here for weeks, over 2 months, making myself at home and seeing the others here as a family, my new family. And he thinks I would sabotage the one thing that makes me feel safe? Sure, torture is a good way of getting people to speak, but Dutch doesn’t seem to realise id rather die than be alone, or back with him.

With that another person emerges from the outside, Hosea, he must have heard the raised voices. I was on the verge of tears knowing Dutch probably doesn’t believe me, in a way I understand the concern, but I was in pain and the constant dull ache in my head was now throbbing. Hosea took one look at us all and motioned Dutch out of the tent, telling him to let me heal and to ask questions later. Dutch left without another word, practically stormed out. Hosea was about to speak but I cut in. “I promise I never said anything, I don’t even think they knew I’m with you all.” Hosea put his hand up to me to stop. Before Hosea could speak a word, Arthur sat forwards, taking my hand in his, stilling my clenching fist in the hopes I would relax.

“I believe you, Bella. Charles and me saw a missing poster of you in Rhodes station. $500 reward. Those guys that took you, they were some of the O’Driscolls. We have a history with them, all bad business.”

“Did the poster mention being able to do whatever they wanted with me but to leave my face untouched?”

“No…”

“Then...I don’t think it was the poster that led them to me. Frank asked them himself.” Arthur and Hosea shared a look of disbelief as I cried. Knocking back more whiskey to numb as much of the pain as possible. The realisation of what happened hitting me like a damn train. Hosea promised he would talk to Dutch, try and calm him down, and that if I needed anything to not hesitate to ask.

Arthur stayed with me till nightfall. Answering whatever questions I had about this rival gang and the very colourful history they have with them, especially the leader, Colm. We talked about anything else that didn't involve the O’Driscolls or what had happened the day before after that. I asked about the photographs he had pinned to the side of the wagon and the two in frames propped up. He spoke fondly about his mother, Beatrice, who passed when he was only a boy. And his dog, Cooper. He even admitted he would bathe with him sometimes. I couldn’t stop laughing, causing him to flush with embarrassment. I assured him it was sweet. He didn’t seem to have many kind words when it came to his father, Lyle. Saying he was a no-good man that didn’t die soon enough. When speaking about Mary, a beautiful woman from what I could see from the photograph, I couldn’t help but notice him hesitate when speaking about her. But I could sense the fondness he still felt for her, a young love like that always holds a special place in your heart. I felt a tang of jealousy. Not because of her, but because I didn't get the chance to feel love like they once did. To have someone you love, love you back just the same despite any differences. It was a shame it didn’t work out for them, some of those differences becoming the wedge that drove them apart. He only left me when Miss Grimshaw came along to change my dressings, to get us both some supper and another bottle of whiskey after we polished off the last one together.

The alcohol did help with the ache, replacing it with a slight buzz but not without slight weariness, but I knew drinking anymore would be asking my headache not to leave. The sun was far beyond the horizon now, the moon firmly replacing it. Now slouched on the cot and Arthur splayed out on the chair with one foot perched on the cot beside my hip. A yawn made my tiredness become more apparent, soon I'll be fighting to keep my eyes open. After a few moments of silence, listening to the nocturnal birds fly overhead, realising everyone else must have gone to sleep, Arthur stood, motioning to the tonic that I had neglected in favour of the whiskey, telling me to drink up before I fell asleep.

“I can go to my tent. Don’t want to hog your bed again.” I said, another yawn making its way out of me.

“Nah it’s alright. Not gunna kick an injured lady out've a more comfy bed.” he looked down at me, his mouth turning up into a small smile.

“Where will you sleep?”

“I got my bedroll out there, I’ll sleep where I drop.”

“I'll feel bad if you have to sleep out there when I’m in here,” He just looked at me, expecting a fight to stop me from sleeping somewhere a little less comfortable no doubt. “Might as well sleep here.” His eyebrows raised at that and it took me a moment to realise what he must have thought I was suggesting. “Oh, no, I mean you might as well bring your bedroll in here. At least then you will have a cover over your head.”

His face relaxed at my explanation, giving off a half-smirk and looking back down at the ground, stroking the back of this neck that I noticed he does when nervous or uncomfortable. Lord, it is cute when he does that. Finally, he nodded, giving in with a quiet, sure.

He returned within seconds with his bedroll, which must have been nearby, and laid it out on the floor. Kicking off his boots and draping a worn blanket over him. I did the same, both of us now staring up at the canvas with our hands resting behind our heads. Sleep slowly taking over me.

“Goodnight, Arthur. Thank you again.” I spoke softly.

“Goodnight, Bella” he replied, just as soft as i.

-

It was barely daybreak when I woke up. The birds singing their morning song all around, a call to breakfast and a new day with new possibilities. My head still had a lingering pulse, not sure if it was from last night whiskey or finally getting over the multiple blows I received. Either way, coffee could fix it.

I took my time getting on my feet, my body still aching lightly and to not wake Arthur, who was curled up on the floor facing me, his arm propping up his head as a pillow. I made my way out of the tent to be greeted by stunning orange hues illuminating the camp and Flat Iron Lake. I made my way to the campfire to brew a fresh batch, adding wood to the dying fire as I waited. I grabbed two tin cups, waiting for the coffee to emit its awakening aroma before pouring. Even just the smell was helping my head ease off a bit. I sat with my coffee, blowing on it absentmindedly, my eyes lost in the fire as my mind flashed, replaying what happened not two days ago. It wasn't the first time to be taken against my will in that way, although I'm thankful it didn't get that far. But just knowing that Frank gave his permission for my captors to do whatever they wanted with me and to be paid handsomely for it along with my return made a feeling burn within me that I have never felt before. Pure rage. Staying in camp would be the safest thing I can do now, Frank won’t give up. No doubt I would go insane. Maybe I could change my appearance somehow so I could venture out from time to time.

I was pulled out of my thoughts as Arthur sat down beside me on the log. I never even heard him approach me I was so lost within my mind.

“How are you feeling?” He asked as I handed him his cup of coffee, still piping hot.

“I'm gonna kill Frank,” I said matter-of-factly, turning to face him. The look of bewilderment on his face made me huff out a laugh.

[kpop-cakepops]

When The Party’s Over // Yoon JeonghanxFem reader

//Here is my first post… it’s kinda angsty y'all, sorry lol. It took a lot for me to finally post it, so please be nice to me. Thank you. Hope you enjoy//

This was inspired by “When The Party’s Over” by Billie Eilish.

Word count: 1,747

Warnings: drinking, cursing, mentions of… kinda cheating??? Putting that in just in case.

The party had been as all parties were. It was loud, it was packed, it was stuffy, and it reeked of alcohol and weed… but it was also one thing you wanted it to be more than anything else. It was a distraction from him. Although he partied a lot too, you made it a mission to be at every party he wasn’t, avoiding him like the plague… and it had worked.

Until now.

You had been moving around the crowded “dance floor” not really dancing, not really standing, just letting yourself be dragged and groped between the group of what seemed like almost 50'ish people. Sweaty limbs meeting your skin and while you usually would rather no one touch you, your low levels of intoxication made it bearable.

That is until he walked in. Swinging the door open in a very Jeonghan manner, 2 24 packs of beer in his arms and a pretty woman trailing not too far behind him. Everyone cheered… except for you.

A soft huff left your lips as you wriggled around people making sure you weren’t seen, looking over your shoulder every few moments only to find that he was already being crowded by friends and admirers that wanted to get any type of interaction from him. Funny how a month and a half ago you would’ve also been up front in that crowd vying for his attention.

You grabbed your thick jacket from the couch you’d set it on and covertly walked toward the sliding glass doors that led to the backyard of the large house, not before managing to take a 12 pack with you.

A soft ding announced the arrival of a text message, but you didn’t care to look at it. You were too busy finding a place around the empty backyard to sit in and ending up choosing one of the lounge chairs by the pool. Any other day, the backyard would have been full with people running around ass naked and drunkenly cannon balling into the warm water… but that day there was snow piling on the grass around it. No one would want to come out when there was heat and dancing and Yoon Jeonghan inside.

No one but you.

You took a beer from your freshly stolen pack and leaned back on your chair staring up at the night sky, no stars in sight, only the moon and the reflection of the artificial city lights. It was peaceful enough; drinking beer alone out in the cold while looking at the fake lights… it wasn’t much different than being inside drinking in the warmth and surrounded by fake friends… you were alone in either of those scenarios anyways.

“Well look who decided to show up.”

That voice sent a chill down your spine but you’d managed to hide any feeling well. Could you say you were surprised that he’d manage to find you? Not really. It was in his nature, no matter how much you hid, it was Yoon Jeonghan that would find you.

“Look at you trying to be edgy alone, drinking by the pool while it’s 15 degrees out. It’s fucking cold-”

“Then go back inside” you managed and opened another beer. “I don’t recall asking you to come out here. Matter of fact, I don’t recall talking to you at all.”

There was silence and then the crunch of snow underneath shoes. To your dismay they were coming closer instead of going away. “So you’re still mad at me.”

A sigh left your lips and you sat up taking your phone out and texting your friend Wonwoo to pick you up from the party if he wasn’t too busy.

A small chuckle left Jeonghan’s lips as he watched you ignore him. It was like seeing you angry made him happy. You weren’t sure if that pissed you off or broke your heart. “Wow, it seems like you use your brain now too… get lost Jeonghan.”

“When will you get over it? I slept with Lina almost what? 2 months ago? I haven’t seen her since.” He said. A small cloud of smoke making it’s way towards you causing you to scrunch your nose.

You stared back up at the sky and closed your eyes wishing he hadn’t mentioned that again. Yet him saying only managed to transport you back to the day.

Walking into your apartment to find clothes scattered around, some clearly belonging to your best friend, Lina, who you’d allowed to crash in your place while she found a place to live. The same one that you’d spent countless of nights telling about the love you felt for Yoon Jeonghan, your childhood best friend. 

You had sat in your living room unable to do much other than sit and wait it out as they made a mess of your room. You hadn’t even been able to cry about it. You felt shocked and disgusted and used.

The first to walk out of your room was Jeonghan, around his neck was the very necklace you’d given him when you were kids. A tiny paper airplane that had meant a lot to you both. One identical to his hung from your own neck. And yet, he had it on while he had sex with another woman in your home, on your bed. 

“Oh… when did you get here?” He had asked.

“Get out.” You softly said as you stood and walked past him and towards your bedroom where Lina was standing wrapped in your sheets and looking at the ground. “Both of you. Leave.” 

“Y-y/n. I can explain.” She managed. But you weren’t going to hear it. With a fistful of her hair you dragged her towards your front door not caring if all she was wearing was the only set of bed-sheets you owned. You were going to throw them out afterwards anyways. 

“Hey! Hey! Y/N Chill” Jeonghan’s voice only made you see red. 

“Get the fuck out. Don’t fucking talk to me. Get out!” You yelled shoving him out behind Lina. “Don’t ever show your face to me again asshole.”

You were brought back by the slight shift of your chair. Jeonghan had taken a seat right by your feet and he was staring at you. Dark eyes tracing your features. “You cut your hair.” He noted “and you lost weight… are you not ea-”

“I thought I told you I didn’t want to see your face again. What do you want?”

He leaned back and smirked. “For you to stop acting like a baby and start talking to me again. You’ve missed out on some really good parties.”

“Thanks for the offer. But I’ll pass.” You answered as you stood from your seat and grabbed what was left of the 12 pack you’d smuggled out of the party. “Here, keep these, you kinda ruined my drinking mood.” Dropping the beers onto his lap you started towards the sliding doors again, only to be brought to a stop by Jeonghan’s grip on your arm.

“You and I, we weren’t dating.” He mumbled. “You have no reason to be mad at me.”

It took you a few seconds to collect yourself. Were you ready to have that conversation? Did you really want to have that fight?

You did.

“You fucked my best friend, Jeonghan-”

“So what? I’m not your boyfriend. You know how I am.” He grit through his teeth. “It’s no secret that I don’t want a relationship.”

“I wasn’t fucking asking you for one.” You shoved him away from you and glared at him. “I never fucking asked to be your girlfriend… you know how I feel about you, you always have known. I’ve never made it a secret, and although I knew you would never give me what I wanted from you, I expected you to at least be a half decent human being. I expected you to respect me at least a little. Just little enough to not fuck a girl in my own house, on my own fucking bed Jeonghan.”

Fuck.

You were crying. Why were you crying? Jeonghan reached his hand out to you, eyes softened as he realized there was tears on your cheeks. “Y/N-”

“Y/N what?! What now?! You’re gonna push your bullshit ‘I’m bad for you’ agenda again?! You’re gonna say that you warned me? That I should’ve stayed away from you? Fuck you Jeonghan. You keep telling me all these stupid things but you somehow never take responsibility for shit.” Once the words start, you can’t stop them. “Since we were kids you’ve done what you want, you’ve gotten what you want, said what you want without regard for anyone but yourself. You’re selfish, you’re spoiled, you’re a fuckboy, you think you know everything there is to know and somehow I still pushed my feelings away and gave you my friendship… but you don’t know shit about friendship or love. You don’t know shit Jeonghan.”

“What the fuck am I supposed to do?! That’s who I fucking am, Y/N-”

“SAY YOU’RE SORRY JEONGHAN” your voice is loud and shrill and gross, but you want to be heard. “You never say you’re sorry! You never admit you’re wrong Jeonghan!”

His chest is rising and falling as he watches you wipe at your face in anger. “It’s not my fault…” he musters quietly.

You scoff in defeat and stare down at your feet. The chain of your airplane necklace suddenly felt heavy and hot and suffocating. You fingers gripped at the dainty thing and tugged on it hard enough to break the clasp behind your neck. “Yeah… it never is your fault.” You said throwing the necklace at his feet.

“Pick it up.” He ordered.

Behind you the glass door leading to the house opened.

“Y/N?” Your friend Wonwoo was behind you now calling for you, ready to take you back home.

“Pick it up, Y/N.” Jeonghan repeated himself.

You didn’t say a word and made your way towards the familiar form standing next to the house you’d walked out from. “Let’s go” you mumbled between sniffles.

“YAH. Y/N Y/L/N. DON’T TURN YOUR BACK AT ME. PICK THAT FUCKING NECKLACE UP. IF YOU DON'TPICK THAT FUCKING NECKLACE UP WE’RE DONE. THAT’S IT.” He strode towards you but was stopped by Wonwoo’s arm.

“That’s enough… let her go.” Mumbled the taller man before following you back into the house leaving Jeonghan angry and kicking at the chair you’d been sitting in only moments before.

The tiny paper airplane in the grass reflecting the moonlight almost mockingly while Wonwoo’s words repeated in his head like a mantra.

“Let her go.”

//I can’t believe I did it. I am willing to post a second part to this if you all want. Also will be posting a drabble list soon for you everyone to choose from! Let me know what you think!!//

Part 2 is now up!

[liamscxtt]

Dear past me

Dear past me,

You’re in for one hell of my a ride, my dude — and as much as I would like to tell you that it’s a good one, I can’t.

Your life is going to be filled with more pain and heartache that one would argue is too much for any normal being to stand. You’re going to fall time and time again, and the person you want most to be the one to pick you back up won’t be there. Truth be told, you’re going to have to grow up, and you’re going to have to grow up FAST. Your whole world will change in just a matter of an hour; and everything about the world you once thought you knew so much about, will suddenly be different. Foreign, even. You will suddenly feel like the little boy you once were, running around and jumping off those monkey bars because you didn’t know how much the ground will hurt — just to fall down and start crying your eyes out because that shit hurt like a bitch.

I want to take a moment to tell you a few things, the first being: don’t take any part of life for granted. When your coach yells at you and tells you to do another sprint, don’t give him an attitude and just do that shit; that could be the last time you are able to run for a while. When your teacher desperately tries to do those corny group activities that are meant to hit deep into the soul, don’t make fun and take it seriously; those are the lessons that you’re going to take with you when you graduate. When that annoying english teacher gives you crap about the assignment you missed and causes you to sit out the next game, I’m not going to say don’t get mad because that’s hard to do, but try to understand where she’s coming from; turns out, she’s going to be the best teacher you’ve ever had, and you’ll one day realize she was just trying to look out for you and prepare you for the real world…and you’ll realize this when it’s too late.

And the biggest thing I want to say: when your parents want to do things together as a family, things you might find stupid like family game night or a trip to Dairy Queen, just do it, and stop fucking complaining about it; you don’t have that much more time to spend together as a unit. The Fantastic Four, they used to call us. When your sister wants to spend the whole day watching Harry Potter movies, you’re going to want to stab your eyes out with rusty nails, but still watch them — and actually pay attention; one day you’re going to watch them on your own and wish that you had remembered the fun facts she was so proud of knowing…the fun facts people like us don’t really care about. Enjoy your birthday, and enjoy celebrating it with your twin; one day, you’ll have the day all to yourself, and it won’t feel as great as you think it will. If anything, that’s the day you feel most alone, and long for the presence of your literal other half.

Savor each moment, William. Savor those Friday night lights out on the field. Savor the post-win dinners at the diner with your teammates and family. Savor all of the lessons that your teachers teach you, and ask lots and lots of questions about both school and life, especially the older ones — the know a lot, and they speak from experience. Savor those summer nights you spent with Grace and Sky making their lives a living hell and get them into as much trouble as you can — turns out, they’re your best friends, and the ones who will go to hell and back for you. Savor those family picnics and vacations…and savor your sisters sweet voice. Save every voicemail, video, anything you can so that voice doesn’t slip away into the depths of our memory. That’s going to be the sound that keeps you grounded whenever you feel like giving up.

There are days you’re going to absolutely hate everything and everyone, including yourself. There will be days where you pity yourself and assume that thing will be easier if you just give up. There will be days you don’t even want to be here anymore, because life is just too damn hard, painful, and lonely. Don’t ever give up, no matter what anyone tells you.

Because just as there are the bad days — and trust me, it seems like there are more bad than good — there are some days that are pretty bearable. You’re going to surprise yourself every single day with just how much you can do, and soon you’ll realize that although you’re broken, you’re a fucking survivor. Not a victim. A. Fucking. Survivor.

You’ll learn how to walk again, despite doctors telling you otherwise; walk, run, go on hikes — do everything you can, while you can. You’ll live out your sisters legacy by doing your absolute best in school, being kind to everyone around you, and living out her dreams of going to one of the top schools. And not only that, but you’ll be starting your second degree, when teachers in high school would’ve never even imagined you finishing off one. You won’t take shit from anyone, and you’ll put anyone and everyone in their place, but you’ll still have a bleeding heart for those who are dear to you. You’ll keep your cards close to your chest and won’t allow anyone to hurt you; nobody can hurt you as much as he hurt you.

You’re going to struggle, a lot. There will be times you’ll go days without a real meal, and there will be times you get absolutely no sleep, because campus security kicked you off campus and you saw a drug deal gone wrong on one of the side streets in downtown. You’ll have early morning just so you can shower and make yourself look like a decent human. You’ll live off of coffee, water, and protein bars. There will be days where you can only afford water and nothing else, but you’ll figure that shit out. You always do.

And remember this — 95% of people living on this earth would not be able to go through the shit you went through and make it out mentally sane or alive. You did that shit. Nobody else. You. Nobody will never be able to truly understand you, but you should be proud of the person you will become. Grace would.

You probably won’t read all of this, but I hope you take everything in when it’s happening. Because it’ll all be taken away from you, but you’ll be okay. You’re smiling and laughing a lot right now, and that smile will soon go away — but I hope you get it back soon. Now go bust your ass and get good grades without stealing Grace’s notes. Turns out, academic scholarships go a much longer way than athletic scholarships do.

Take care, number 12. There’s nothing in this world that can take you down.

With love,

The man who wished he knew better