#I hate the process of quitting and how guilty I feel

[vstheworld]

bout to fuck around and become a prep cook

[kookslastbutton]

Guilty Pleasures ༓ jjk, kth (m) | chapter ii

✒ Summary: Three years of being Seoul's power couple earns you nothing but a big fat divorce settlement and your face plaster on every gossip column around town. You're angry, hurt, and desperately want to move on, but worst of all? You're still in love with the man who started the whole mess, even though the most he can ever see you as is a friend. The renowned actor you've hired to be your company's new endorser seems to have a soft spot for you though. He's easy on the eyes, you'll admit, but who actually wants a divorcee like yourself? It's unrealistic really.

pairing: ex-husband ceo!jungkook x ceo!reader, actor!taehyung x ceo!reader

genre/AU: angst, smut, fluff, loverstoexesto ?, coworkers2?, unrequited love

Word count: 4.5k

Warnings: oc and jk are both 30, Taehyung is 32, swearing, fighting, confrontation, tornado of emotions, mentions of alcohol consumption, mentions of sexism in the media and business world, public shaming (both direct and indirect), morally grey characters, mentions of toxic relationships, mentions of abandonment issues, mentions of therapy, attempts to self-regulate but reader is pissed, mentions of self-blame though oc knows its not entirely her fault, mentions of defamation charges, JK is just 🤬 while KTH is 😇

playlist: Unkiss Me, Apologize, Hate That I Love You, etc.

a/n: Woah okay....so had I fun writing this, even though it took me a hella long time to decide whether to continue the story as a series or not 🫣 Anyway I altered the summary slightly from chapter one (and updated for consistency purposes), but it doesn't change my overall plans! As you read this chapter, I hope you will be able to see my vision (I'm nervous af! haha)! Enjoy 🥰 (edited but pls forgive me for any oversights...my typos are ridiculous)

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You’re seated in a wide sofa chair, surrounded by four blank walls, and the gentle sound of water tricking from a faux rock waterfall. Every element of the space is carefully integrated as a means to calm you. Yet it doesn't calm you in the slightest. Your hands are clammy. Muscles tense with the adrenaline spiking through your veins. It doesn’t help that you’ve been running on nothing but black coffee all week either, refusing to eat until the first promo shoot with your company’s new endorser was launched.

A natural in front of the camera, Kim Taehyung was able to speed the process up, yet it didn’t stop the massive dark circles from forming under your eyes. This morning, he'd told you they were unnoticeable but you've seen how you look in the mirror, and they're anything but unnoticeable. Still, you find his gesture to soothe sweet. Thankfully, your new partnership has been smooth sailing which is quite a blessing considering the disaster he nearly walked into.

Yes. You’re referring to that disaster in particular. When, in some desperate last-minute attempt for validation, you threw yourself into the arms of your ex-husband.

More like fixed the collar of his shirt and whoops, slid right on his dick…again.

What is wrong with you?

You’ve been asking yourself the question far too many times. You’d think being a hot-shot CEO of a million-dollar tech company would make you like titanium, resilient as finely pounded steel but no; you're just barely keeping yourself together. You regret your rash decision that day, you regret ever marrying Jeon Jungkook, and you regret ever giving in to your stupid feelings.

That’s why you’re here now, waiting in the office of your therapist’s private practice, hands restless in your lap. You’ve been seeing Melody for just over two months since your divorce was finalized, ready to move on; trying to, more like.

‘JeonX CEO Jeon Jungkook’s ex-wife compensated $1.8 billion in divorce’

‘South Korea’s Golden It couple split with ex-wife taking half the company revenue’

These are the lovely words that greet you from your phone screen.

You have the urge to grab your special red ballpoint pen from your bag and scribble out the entire paragraph, except it’s not a printed gossip magazine— it’s a newspaper column on the internet. Instead, you close out the pesky tab on your phone and reply to its sender.

Chim 🐥: can you believe this crap they’re saying about you?! It's no shit you were given a hefty divorce settlement. You brought in half the income! They’re making you look like some kind of gold digger. I swear if I ever lay my eyes on that pretty ex-husband of yours, I will end him! 😡 [sent at 5:06 pm]

Park Jimin, your childhood best friend, sends you a follow-up text when you don’t immediately reply to the news articles he forwarded over. He’s been extremely overprotective of you lately and especially pissed at how the media’s been portraying you, while Jungkook is seemingly getting a free ride. He’s always had an axe to grind with your ex-husband, to be honest, the divorce gives him only more reason to hate him.

You: Thanks for your concern Chim, but nothing they say surprises me anymore. If you don’t mind, can you stop sending these to me? [sent at 5:12 pm]

You hope your message doesn’t read as cold or dismissive. Jimin’s concern for you is a light in a dark place, but you don’t really want to be reminded of the amount of slandering articles still targeted towards you.

Gone are the days when the public saw you as a powerful woman in business, the one to watch, or the CEO of the fastest-growing startup in the last ten years. You're now simply Jeon Jungkook’s conniving ex-wife; as if you’ve merely seduced him for his money and ran when the going was good.

Of course, the whole situation is skewed to his side; half the world is in love with him after all, and that includes the few lingering reporters who've been practically salivating three feet from you at any given chance, hoping to get an exclusive “inside look”. Your marriage was a sham, you wanted to scream, a mutual business transaction.

Too bad rather than an increase in status, resources, and market share, you gained a pile of twisted, unwarranted emotions and regrets.

“I apologize for the wait Ms. __."

The door swings open as your therapist rushes into the room. She stops at her desk to retrieve last week’s session notes, then takes a seat in the chair adjacent to you with crossed legs.

“It’s okay,” you assure, straightening your posture. “I understand how crazy busy the day can get. It wasn't a long wait anyway."

Melody gives a small smile and jots a few words on her notepad. “Thank you for understanding. How are you doing this week?”

You take a deep breath. "Tired," you respond, "especially this week at work. It's like as soon as I wrap up one project, there's another jumping out from nowhere." You used to be ahead of the game. Now you're barely surviving.

"That's right," she hums. "Last week you mentioned having to attend a charity gala soon. Would you like to start there today?"

Crap, you're suddenly reminded that you have to pick up your gown by 7 pm tonight. You entertained the idea of not going to the gala at all, but that would do you no favors in the end. Given your situation, you can't skip out on such an important charity event.

"Sure," you nod. "The Winter Gala's tomorrow night, actually. It's funny how I used to look forward to it every year, being an opportunity to network and catch up with my peers. I can't say I feel the same thrill this time around."

"Because of the divorce you mean?"

"Exactly. Being the CEO of one of the largest software corporations in the world, my ex-husband's influence far exceeds my own. So whether out of loyalty or political agenda, anyone who's anyone will be on his side of the room. I'm gonna end up being that one awkward person in the corner in a far too expensive Dior gown who no one wants to dance with." You nervously chuckle out the last sentence.

Melody opens her mouth to respond, yet stops when she notices you're not quite finished.

"It'll be the first time seeing my ex-husband after months of no contact too. I guess that's what I'm looking forward to the least."

When you think about it, the most you've seen of Jungkook is his face appearing on the massive screens downtown. He's been featured in at least a dozen interviews lately, teasing a brand-new product his company's planning to release in the spring. Seems he's doing well.

"What you feel is valid Ms. __." Melody seeks to assure you. "In the past, you used to go to these events with Jungkook right? He provided you with a sense of safety, as you did for him, no doubt. I wonder if it's a lack of consistency and belonging that worries you, more than it is about seeing your ex-husband and your peers. Companionship too, of course."

"I suppose that makes sense, but it never used to be this way." Your voice raises to match your sudden argumentativeness. "I used to be very comfortable in my own skin. I used to be confident going to these events alone, long before Jungkook came into the picture."

You pause to take a breath before continuing.

"When Jungkook became CEO of his family's software company, JeonX, he was steps away from being bought out by both our competitors, so a partnership was proposed. We married at 27 as nothing more than two ambitious, rising leaders in business. Neither of us was after love or romance when our careers were at stake."

"But then that changed for you," your therapist carefully observes. "Combined, you both held the largest share of the tech market. You and Jungkook were also in an extremely intimate relationship, yet treated it as a business contract. Unfortunately, those don't always come out clean in the wash. It appears to me that while you gave him three honest years of your life, he stole those three years from you."

The words take a moment to sink in; Jungkook stole three years from you. It conflicts with what you want to believe, though from the bottom of your heart, you know she's right.

"I feel so...guilty. I hate that I fell for him, and I hate that I'm struggling this much to let him go." As you tear up, Melody hands you a tissue from the side table with an empathetic gaze. You mouth a thank you and gently dab your eyes with the soft fabric.

"I'd give yourself some grace Ms. __. But if I may ask, what about Jungkook?" she gently probes. "Do you think he feels the same?"

"No...," you say with remorse, shaking your head. "He's moved on."

Melody remains silent for as long as you need in the moments following, cautious to follow your lead. The last thing a therapist should do is rush their patient through the session, so she sits patiently and waits for your go.

"Sorry," you finally say. "We should continue."

"No need for apologies," she replies. "Take your time."

It takes a good minute or two longer of sitting in your car before you can fully compose yourself. As usual, your session with Melody was intense and insightful, but it was far too short. You're gripping the wheel with both hands when her final words of the session echo through your head: "Give yourself some grace; blaming yourself won't do any good."

Seemingly simple advice, yet tough to follow when you constantly feel responsible for the mess you're in. Yes, even though Jungkook has the bigger end of the stick, you made your share of mistakes too. You should have looked into other options when you found out your competitors were looking to buy out JeonX instead of eloping with their CEO.

Just what were you thinking __? you harshly scold yourself. You were trying to protect your company. You both were. Too bad you placed the cart in front of the horse.

Forcing yourself to take a slow, deep breath, your eyes widen in alarm when you catch the time on the clock— 6:38 pm. Fuck! The boutique that's holding your gown for tomorrow's gala is closing in twenty minutes. Without a moment to spare, you yank the seatbelt and slam your foot on the gas.

"Good evening Ms. __." A young woman, fitted in a black pencil skirt and white blouse, greets you with a faint bow as soon as you step foot into the posh boutique.

"Hello, Hana," you refer to the young lady by name with a smile. "I'm terribly sorry to be coming in this late. I came by to pick up the gown I sent in for alterations two weeks ago. The event's tomorrow and I know the shop will be closed for the day."

Knowing the exact dress you're referring to, Hana responds with a soft tone, "Please don't worry Ms. __. We have the gown ready." She disappears to the back of the shop to retrieve it.

As you wait, your mind drifts to memories of last year's gala. You had worn a vibrant, gold gown that evening, slightly risky with a low neckline. Jungkook liked it though, as he wore a matching gold vest himself. You can imagine how crazy the press went when you both set foot on the scene, arms linked and appearing to have coordinated your attire perfectly.

Every investor at the gig wanted to be your friend that night, anxiously pushing through the crowds to speak to you. One of them nearly split your dress in two, as he had accidentally stepped on your gown after one too many drinks. You recall Jungkook scolding the man before turning his full attention to you, making sure you were alright. You consider this to be the first time you truly started looking at him as your husband, a feeling of warmth blooming inside you.

How foolish you were to let that feeling grow.

You're attending the gala alone this year, without him.

Possessing no desire to call attention to yourself this year, you've chosen a rich, navy blue gown instead. It's subtle yet sophisticated. Made out of the finest silk, its silhouette is sleek and falls straight down to the floor without any extravagant frills. The neckline is simple too, paired with a tasteful open back. There are no flashy accessories or embellishments, just a straightforward, classic design. You find the gown beautifully elegant, and nowhere near as bold as your previous one.

"Here it is Ms. __," Hana chips from afar, her heels clacking against the polished floor tiles. In her hand is a generously sized garment bag, your dress flowing underneath.

"Thank you so much, Hana," you say, taking the gown from her hand. "Again, I'm sorry for my tardiness picking this up. I hope you have a wonderful night."

You leave the boutique, the sun having already set.

The Winter Gala takes place on the top floor of Seoul's most luxurious hotel, specifically in its grand ballroom. The walls are adorned with gold trim, and its floors are elegantly lined with polished black marble. Above, a magnificent glass chandelier glimmers, catching the moonlight filtering through the surrounding glass windows.

Despite being a private event, the gala attracts a whole slew of press and locals who eagerly gather on either side of the hotel's front doors, treating it as a prime spot for viewing the red carpet.

Physically, you're ready; dressed to the nines, and makeup done just right. Mentally, you're absent; secretly sipping a margarita at the end of the earth, wherever that is. The day finally comes for you to make an appearance at the Annual Winter Gala and it's clear, you're not prepared in the slightest.

Your nerves consume you as you sit in the backseat of your limousine. You protested against being dropped off at the front entrance. Hell, you hadn't even wanted to arrive in a limo. However, your PR team insisted you be seen arriving, happy to be supporting a charitable event for the eighth year in a row.

Reluctantly, you complied.

Chim 🐥: I wish I could be there with you tonight 😞 No matter what, don't let those snobs get into your head. You look stunning and you have nothing to be ashamed of! [sent at 6:23 pm]

"Thank you, love," you whisper to aloud upon reading your best friend's endearing message. Before you can craft a reply, your door is flung open, with harsh flashes of cameras blinding you. When you step out of the limo, you hear a mix of passionate cheering and interrogative remarks.

"Ms. __, could you share with us your experience of attending the gala without Jeon Jungkook by your side for the first time?"

"Ms. __, it's unexpected to see you here this year, especially considering your recent separation from your ex-husband, who is also on the guest list!"

"Ms. __, how do you plan to navigate the evening's festivities without the familiar presence of your former partner?"

Just keep walking __. If you can just get inside the building and tune out the noise, you'll be fine. You coach yourself with every step, but make little progress with the amount of discomfort only skyrocketing. Your photos are being taken, and questions barrage you from all angles. To top it off, you feel a strong migraine coming on and oh fuck— is that the devil now?

You don't have to glance back to guess the sudden increase in cheering is due to the arrival of another hot A-lister. It has to be Jungkook with a new woman by his side. You think he wouldn't bring a date to an event like this, even if she were a hire? You'd be horribly mistaken.

You fight against the urge to turn around and confirm if your suspicions are true.

"__!" a voice calls out, which you ignore.

But wait a minute.

You stop in your tracks—that's not Jungkook's voice at all; it’s far too raspy.

Peeking over your shoulder, your jaw falls open as you see Kim Taehyung steps behind you wearing a boxy grin on his face. He's dressed to the hills with a shiny maroon, Louis Vuitton suit hugging his slim waist. Quite handsome, per usual, but what is he doing here?

Taking the initiative, Taehyung strides next to you and waves to the crowd charismatically. “My movie shoot wrapped up early so I thought I’d swing by and see what all the excitement’s about,” he says.

You observe how easy it is for him to appease the crowd, a skill you’re still working to sharpen.

“Tae-” you begin.

He then turns to you and looks straight into your eyes. You shiver at from the sudden intensity.

“I got an invitation too, and the gala happens to support a cause that I find close to my heart.” His voice lowers for the next part, allowing only your ears to hear. “I also didn’t want you having to be alone this evening, __. I hope I didn’t overstep my boundaries.”

Taehyung’s words manage to coax you away from your previously frazzled state, comforting you as the chaos quiets around you.

“Thank you, Taehyung. You didn’t, don’t worry,” you reply, giving a tight-lipped smile. “It’s actually a good thing you came since you’re basically the second face of my company after all.”

“I’m happy to hear that. We’ve been working so well together recently, and I don’t want to ruin it. May I?” He offers you an arm.

“You may.” You slip your arm into his and continue towards the hotel entrance. You admit you’re glad to see him.

With Taehyung nearby, your apprehensions of the night start to subside. He’s not always beside you, slipping away to mingle often, yet his mere presence relaxes you. You haven’t even thought about Jungkook to be honest. Well, maybe a little bit.

You take a sip of the drink in your hand and casually scan the ballroom until bingo, you spot your ex-husband by the bar in the middle of half a dozen people. Figures he’s the center of attention, effortlessly tethering people to himself. Jungkook loves the spotlight, and the spotlight loves him. As you continue watching him from across the room, a whirlwind of conflicting emotions swirls within you; longing, sorrow, anger. You haven't seen him in over two months, it feels surreal.

Memories of your time together come flooding back all at once—both the good and the bad, yet mostly bad. It's strange how someone you were once so close to can suddenly feel like a stranger. You allow your gaze to linger a moment longer, curious to conclude a date is nowhere in sight. Perhaps you’re mistaken and they’ve merely slipped away for a second. You’re positive he would’ve brought someone.

Bitterly, you gulp down another sip of your drink. When you place your glass down, you nearly choke at the sight of Jungkook's dark eyes burning holes at you. You avert your gaze immediately, silently begging that he didn’t just witness you staring at him and take it as an unsolicited invitation to come over.

“So,” a provocative voice unexpectedly slides next to you. “Looks like you just traded one bachelor for the next __. I’m shocked to see you’ve shown up to our little soirée.”

Oh god, you roll your eyes, recognizing the owner of the slithery voice like the back of your hand. You do not have the stamina for this tonight.

“Kathy," you greet with the fakest, yet sweetest smile possible. "Nice seeing you again. I haven't seen you since last year. How's the baby?"

"Oh please," she scoffs. "Don't try to deflect, sweetie. We both know it's you who is of far more... intrigue. If you understand my gist."

You want to hurl at this woman's condescending tone. Nothing gets under your skin more than someone your age calling you sweetie. It's not endearing in the slightest, especially when it's Kathy Lee, Director of CommaTen. You despise each other, likely because you both hit it big in the industry at a young age. Meeting someone who reminds you so closely of yourself isn't always a blessing.

“Anyway, as I was saying," she continues, brushing her hair behind an ear. "I have quite the bone to pick with you about stealing that actor from me. Kim Taehyung was mine first, you know."

Hers? She speaks as if a person can be owned. You won't lie, you're surprised Taehyung agreed to partner with you at a time when most of Seoul's elites have turned against you. You're naive to assume that his support wouldn't backfire on his reputation. On the other hand, he's been your endorser for two months now and his following remains fully intact.

“To be frank, I didn't know the two of you were talking business at all," you respond to the accusations with composure, though burning up inside. "But of course, he's free to make his own decisions, can't he? Whatever the reason, something must have enticed him."

“You—" Offended by your insinuation that your offer was better than hers, Kathy doesn't stop what comes next. "We both know the only reason why Kim Taehyung's with you is because Jungkook left you! And you need the extra publicity, isn't that right?"

Fuck. Well, now you're really fucking embarrassed because, at that moment, everyone in the room shifts their attention your way. A pin drop could be heard in the entire ballroom since even the live band ceased their playing.

This is why you didn't want to come. Your fingers fumble with the fabric of your gown.

“Don't act like you're above me just because your company might be worth more than mine, __. We'll catch up with you soon," Kathy spits her final words before spinning around and triumphantly walking away.

Don't cry, you tell yourself. Everyone's staring at you; the press, your peers, Jungkook, and Taehyung. Don't you dare cry.

As the murmurs of conversation gradually resume around you, you force yourself to take a deep, steadying breath. Kathy's words were nothing but a feeble attempt to save her own face. Besides, what company doesn't have at least one endorser?

"Are you alright?" Taehyung's low, gentle voice catches your attention as he swiftly returns to your side, no doubt influenced after witnessing Kathy's verbal jab.

You manage a tight-lipped smile, nodding faintly as you attempt to push back the overwhelming wave of humiliation. "I will be," you reply, though the words feel hollow even to your own ears.

His gaze lingers on you for a moment longer, a silent understanding passing between you.

"I hope you don't take her words to heart, __," he mutters. "I chose to become your partner because I genuinely believe in your product. I'm selective about who I support, so please trust me when I say it wasn't because of material gain or pity."

You're on the verge of responding to his reassurance when you catch sight of your ex-husband from the corner of your eye, striding his way over to you for the first time tonight. His expression is unreadable, so you brace yourself, unsure of what to expect.

"__," he starts, his voice low but carrying an unmistakable urgency. "Can we talk?"

You and Taehyung share a quick glance before you follow Jungkook out of the ballroom, seeking privacy.

As soon as you're out of earshot, Jungkook turns to you, his features softened by a hint of concern. "Hey," he starts. "I meant to get over to you sooner but got tied up. You know how it is."

"Yeah, I know," you respond, though you'd rather he didn't come over at all, especially after being dragged into the spotlight in front of all your peers and colleagues.

The two of you share an unsettling silence before he speaks again.

"You-You look good." He allows his eyes to rake up and down your body, causing you to cross your arms in discomfort. There was a time when his gaze brought a flutter of excitement, but now, you're not so sure it brings you the same pleasure.

"I'm sorry for what happened in there," he says. "You okay?"

"What?" you repeat, your eyes wide with surprise, stunned by his unexpected apology. "Am I okay?"

Where was this concern when he handed you the divorce papers nine months ago? Or when he willingly took advantage of your vulnerability that time in your office, only to disappear afterward, as if he hadn't just torn your heart out of your chest? You clench your fists, trying to contain the rising temperature of your anger.

"Yeah, about what she said about you," he clarifies. "It was uncalled for, and I feel horrible about it." He reaches out to touch you, but you instinctively step back, as if his touch would scorch you.

"Please, don't," you sigh, a trace of weariness in your voice. "It's fine."

"I'm serious __, I can have her charged with defamation for that. It wouldn't take much!" His insistence is unwavering, and it strikes your last nerve.

"You don't need to fight my battles for me, Jungkook," you suddenly snap, voice stern. "I'm not completely helpless now that you've divorced me!"

Jungkook's expression darkens, regret flickering in his eyes. "I'm not saying you are. I'm just trying to help."

"Help?" you repeat, doubtful. "How do you think that's going to look for me in the media? Jeon Jungkook slaps another high society member with a defamation charge for ex-wife. Thanks, but no thanks. I get enough of that as is."

He sighs, running a hand through his hair in frustration. "I know they've been difficult on you recentl—"

"Difficult?" you interject, your anger bubbling to the surface. "In case you haven't noticed my face is on every gossip magazine, billboard, press release, and anything else they can use to scorn me with. It's unbearable, especially since I still have a business to run."

Jungkook winces, clearly stung by your words. "Then let me help. I'll get them removed for you. I still care about you, __."

You scoff. "You care about me? Is that why you made me sign our divorce papers three months after you found out I wanted more than a fake marriage?"

His jaw clenches, gaze dropping to the floor guiltily. "It's not like that, __. I'm not trying to be an avoidant asshole. I want you to-"

"Find someone else. Yeah, I got it," you mutter bitterly, feeling a fresh wave of hurt wash over you.

"I'm sorry, __. I am."

You stare at him, torn between resentment and a lingering ache for the connection you once shared. Now, he's apologizing?

"So am I," you say, slowly backing away from him. "You don't have to do anything, Jungkook. I'm fine."

You then turn on your heels to return to the ballroom where Taehyung still waits for you, leaving your ex-husband standing in the hallway, alone.

a/n: A much-needed confrontation between oc and jk eh? But... *laughs evilly*..this is not the end...LMK what you think! 🤔🤍

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[honeykaes]

inside/out

wriothesley x convict!reader II 2.6k

warning: smut, 18+ content, minors do not interact, afab!reader with no set pronouns, convict!reader,  fingering, squirting, marking, biting, piercings, rough sex, hate sex, office sex, semi-public sex, unprotected sex, creampie, you and wriothesley are exes, angst, degradation, domestic disputes, set in fontaine before the traveler comes, fontaine plot points references, discussions of legal systems and injustice, mention of drugs, discussion of murder, open ending for interpretation, unedited

synopsis: you swore that you would leave the fortress of meropide when your sentence was done. And when you do, your relationship with wriothesley sours as your two break up. Five years later, you're shocked to end up right back in the iron prison where he’s there waiting for you.

The world seemed so distant to you. The whispering throughout sounded as if it were an untuned violin as they lapped up the drama they so desperately craved in their lives. The Oratrice Mécanique D'analyse Cardinale clicked in the irritating orchestra about to come up with its verdict. 

The lawyer next to you fumbled with his papers with a look of shame and defeat in his eyes. Out of everyone in this room, you felt for him. He would surely bounce back with the next chum in your position.

The loud smacking of a cane caused the whispering to dissipate as you finally lifted your head up to witness the Iudeux of Fontaine.His eyes seemed heavy with sorrow. This wasn’t the first time you had witnessed this expression directed at you. Your eyes flickered to your God, Furina yawning as she whispered something to herself in her boredom.

 You can’t help feeling irked at her expression; at all of their expressions.

Why were these people allowed to judge you? 

The only answer you could find was justice was only for the privileged lucky, and you clearly had run out of it.

The contraption glowed, as Neuvillette collected your sentence.

“Under Article D of the Fontainian Code of Law, you are found guilty of fraud. Under Article J of Fontainian Law, you are found guilty of tax evasion…” he rambled on as you bit your lip.

It seemed that the rumors were right, after all. Most people who come out of the Fortress of Meropide find themselves right back in.

”And finally you are guilty of 1st degree murder of your former business partner, Henry Maugham. As a result, you will be serving a life sentence at the Fortress of Meropide,” Neuvillette announced.

You couldn’t help chuckling, covering your mouth from the cruel smile on your face. The whispering sparked once more, heavy eyes judging every movement you made. You finally lifted your hand away, smiling at the judge, but your eyes remained cold on Neuvillette’s somber ones

”Glad to see you never change, Monsieur."

The Melusine officers escorted you down to the Meropide, with only a small sack of clothes you were allowed to bring. From the photos, to the pat downs, it all seemed nostalgic to you. How many familiar faces would you see? You assumed quite a few.

This underwater prison you desperately wanted to escape from in the past, would be your sole future.

Finally finished with orientation, you threw your sack on your assigned bed sitting down, looking down on the steel ground.  With the bed squeaking, your roommates whisper, feeling the heavy air as they make their escape and let you have some space.  

Just as you sigh, thankful to have the room briefly to yourself to process, credit coupons hovered in your view as you looked up to see a tiny girl. Her long ear twitched in anticipation, ruby eyes gleaming at you, but at the same time, held pity in them.

”It’s nice to see you again. I really thought I wouldn’t have the opportunity once you left five years ago,” she chimed, brushing a bit of her baby blue hair.You looked at the tickets trying to give it back to her silently but she puffed her cheeks and shook her head.

”No! Think about it like this; this is for all the birthdays I missed,” she reasoned. You sighed, moving to massage the headache threatening to form.

-”...Sigwienne…why are you here? I’m sorry but-”

”Don’t apologize!” she interrupted, ears slightly drooping. “I, of all people, knew how much you wanted to get out. I-I’m here because the Duke wanted to see you.”

”No.”

”Please! I thought you wouldn’t be mad at him anymore,” she pleaded as eyes blew wide, pleading.Your gaze grew more bitter: 

“So he sent you to soften the blow or some shit,” you grunted. Sigwienne furrowed her eyebrows in disappointment before you clicked your tongue catching your mistake.

”Sorry…language. I know…” you muttered. Your eyes looked up to see a guard at the door, glaring down at you. It seems she was the nice “cop” and if you kept refusing her, he would get involved. You turn back to Sigwienne’s pleading gaze.

”Fine. Lead the way…” you grumbled getting up from your place. Sigwienne smiled, clasping her tiny hand with yours. 

”Off we go then!”

The only solace Sigwienne gave was a timid smile, waving as the door to the Duke’s office closed, leaving you with a man you haven’t seen in five years.

Your former boyfriend. Honestly, the man you naively thought you’d have happily ever after with.

He took a sip of tea before sighing, throwing papers on his desk as he leaned into his chair that creaked from the shifting weight. His hair was the same, black with odd streaks of gray hair he always had. He had a few new piercings on his ears though. 

”In all these years, I didn’t think I’d see your face again,” he murmured.Your jaw tense and eyes narrowed. His voice seemed as irritating as he’s ever been.

“You think I wanted you to see your sorry ass again, Wriothelsey?” you barked back. -He clicked his tongue, rolling his icy eyes.

 “I can see you’re not over our breakup..” he grumbled, drumming his fingers on the desk. You crossed your eyes, looking down with him with all the defiance you could muster up.

”If that’s what you want to call you being a selfish prick, sure,” you replied back.Wriothesley's nostrils flared but he didn’t spout any insults back.

”I thought you said you wanted to change for the better,” he asked, grabbing a file and holding it up. Of course he knew everything. He knew the second you were preparing to dive down to the Meropide.

”I did and I was. As if I wanted to come down here again. You know that out of everyone! But, I forgot something, people are cruel. And now, I’m stuck here for the rest of my life,” you raised your hands out, proclaiming loudly.

”...Just like you wanted.”

”I did not want that and you know it!” he shouted. It seemed his temper had started to reflect out. Tension was thick in the air as you laughed.

”Oh, right. My mistake. No you wanted to stay in this shithole and be the king of it, how could I forget? Your heart only had room for one person—the Meropide— not me!”

He rose from his seat, face beginning to go red in anger.

”Don’t! I’m not playing this game with you! You know how much I loved you. I loved you so much but you knew there’s nothing out there for me.”

Nails dug in your palms hearing his response as your emotions were beginning to get to you. 

 “Well you would have made something with ME out there!” you yelled, tears beginning to weld in your eyes. You turned away, wiping your tears and shuttered. You felt embarrassed being right in the same position as you were when the two of you first broke up and crying in front of him again after years.

”...I wanted us to build a new life together. Our sentences finished at the same time. You could have left with me, but you didn’t,” you whispered, angrily wiping your face. Silence fell the both of you besides your occasional sniffle and his heavy footsteps walking closer to you.

-”...And I wanted us to build a new life together here. But I wasn’t going to stop you from getting out of the Meropide.”

A frustrated grunt ripped from you as you couldn’t hold your irritation anymore. You marched to him, glaring at his form towering over you. 

To your surprise, he leaned down and kissed you. And shocking you both, you kissed him back with just as much fervor. 

”Selfish. Blockheaded. Smug dick--” you stammered out  among the heated kisses, claiming your lips with every second. Nibbling on your bottom lip, his tongue darted in your parted mouth as you threw your arms around his shoulder. His kiss was of the familiar taste of Earl Grey you remembered he was so fond of.

“Moody, Frustrating, Manipulative asshole,” he grunted back. Article after article of clothing, fell on the floor as you fell onto his couch with a plop. Your hands ran across his firm stomach and chest.You gasped feeling his large palm cup against your sex.

”Still wearing the same underwear I smuggled in for our anniversary. I see you’re still a cheapskate or are you just sentimental?” he grunted  in your ear. His finger firmly brushed across your clit, pleasure soon beginning to reverberate throughout  your lower form. You groan, hitting his toned thigh.

”Shut the fuck up!”

Wriothesley slid your panties down until they caught on your ankle as his fingers glided along the bare cunt. He rubbed your clit with his calloused thumb.

”I see you still have rough ass hands,” you chimed. Wriothesley rolled his eyes, before chuckling.

”Yet you can’t get enough of them as always” he shot back. Fingers slowly sank inside of you as you threw your head back. His digits curled and stretched you out, tenderly pumping at a decent pace as you squirmed under his touch.

His hips bucked slightly against your thigh where you could feel how hard his cock was, desperately pressed against his gray slacks.He hitched your legs over his broad shoulders as he nibbled your inner thighs—leaving a wake of discolored marks and soft bite marks.

”Fuck! Fuck!”you whined out, hands shooting out to pull his soft hair. Your legs caved in closer to his cheeks as he pumped his faster.

He leaned in, letting his tongue brush against your clit as it was the last thing to push you over. Back arched, fluid spraying from you as he continually lapped at your overstimulated cunt as the liquid made a mess of his face and the couch. 

As your body fell, breath heavy from your high, his fingers pulled out of you—walls unconsciously tightening, wishing they would stay. Satisfied with your fucked out expression, he smirked wiping his hand with his chin from your fluids. You narrow your eyes at him, watching him swirl his tongue around cleaning his fingers that were coated in your essence.

”Your face, it’s pissing me off,” you grunted. Wriothesley briefly laughed. Your heart fluttered momentarily. You hated how much you missed it.

“Said the person who squirted on my face. Been a long time hasn’t it, hm?” he teased. You glared before his eyes softened to something genuine.

”..Yeah, me too.”

He sat on his couch, shifting his pants down as his cock slapped on his lower stomach

He stroked his length as it pulsated in his grip. Every once and a while, a wavering moan left his lips. It seemed he had a new piercing too.

A Prince Albert piercing, glinting from the light and precum budding at his flushed tip.You shifted your hips, contemplating if you should go to the next step of someone that was your ex, but seeing him shutter, muffling his mouth and hearing your name was the push you needed.

”Fuck I missed you inside of me,” you groaned, kissing him. You hovered over his cock lining yourself up before sinking down. His hands found their way to the globe of your ass, grabbing the mounds tightly before you managed to reach his hilt.

”Like old times…” he whispered  out, hazy lust gazing over his eyes.

”Just like it…” you moaned.

His pace was relentless as you called out his name. His jaw was clenched, watching your slick dripped down your thighs and his cock as he continued to slam you down on it. Your whole body jumped, as his hips moved up to meet him pulling you down his cock.

”I missed you so fucking much. Your smile. Your voice…fuck your scent. I couldn’t sleep properly for months when you left.” he groaned. 

”I-I couldn’t either…fuck! There! Right there!!” you yelled out. HIs cock continued to press against your soft walls, hitting the spot that caused your voice to reach higher and higher, stomach churning as you almost hit your release.

“ ‘Thesley,” you cried out, nails harpooning into his back as you brought him closer to you. Your body shuttered, walls quivering and tightening. He clenched his jaw, having a harder time bouncing you on his cock.

”...I still fucking love you!” Wriothesley grunted, sinking his teeth into your neck. With one final rough thrust— his hips faltered—as thick ropes of cup jet out and inside of you. He slowly thrusted, moving to try to nurse down his high.

You shifted your neck, leaning his chin up before you kissed him once more. 

For a second, just for a second, it was like you never left him. That you two were still together.That you were in your early twenties, dumb and in love.

Wriothesley broke the kiss first as your fantasy was briefly shattered. His eyes were soft but clearly searching for something within yours. 

“...You still never told me why you are back here,” he replied. You groaned, and rolled your eyes pushing his face away as he grunted. You rose from him, his cum and your slick drooling from your hole before you went to grab your panties and put them back on.

Wriothesley merely sighed, lifting his boxers and pants back on. 

”...I was framed,” you admitted, putting your bra on. Just as Wriothesley was about to put his shirt on, he looked up in shock.

”What”

”Out there, I owned a small cute cafe. You know the one I always talked about based on a beloved classic, Les Aventures d’Alice au Pays des Merveilles,” you chuckled to yourself, recalling reading it to Sigwienne with Wriothesley at times. 

“ I didn’t have funds. Who would fund an ex-convict, y’know. But I met Henry, the aristocrat who promised my dreams. I thought things were going well until I discovered he had used the business as a front to sell absinthe.” You looked down, finally buttoning your shirt on and looking at Wriothesley’s somber face.

“He tried to kill me, I killed him first.”

Wriothelsey briefly closed his eyes processing the information before buttoning his own shirt.

“..But you know this country more than anyone else. He had power after death, and I was pinned with the crime by his frustrated associates,” you whispered, adjusting your color to hide the marks you knew Wriothesley left.

“I can help. We can catch them and get you back--” 

“There’s no point.” you sighed, but smiled. You chuckled humorlessly, walking to the door to his office. You clenched the handle, your back turned to hide your expression. 

Your real expression.

”I guess I wasn’t meant to be out there after all."

[shalscumbunny]

For what reasons would members of the Gen'ei Ryodan impregnate their S/O?

TW: Mentions of forced relationship, forced pregnancy, gestation, breeding kink, body changes, parenthood, children, possible threat to children

Phinks:

It is the type of couple that is extremely overprotective, at the same time that it is extremely dominant, there is no better way of dominance than to impregnate your beloved, leave her plump and unable to do anything, so that she does not do anything stupid, nothing bad happens to her and there is no doubt that he is your absolute owner because you are carrying HIS child, and the idea of fucking you pregnant isn't something he's going to refuse either, he likes the idea, I'll just say that and of course he will love his child, I feel that he is the type of man to whom being a father comes naturally.

Feitan:

I don't feel that Feitan understands that concept of "family" and "parenting" and he doesn't care much either and if you're not very interested in the subject, pregnacy is not something that is going to happen, BUT, if we go to his sickest and most twisted side, especially the sadistic one and mixing it with a yandere or quite sick theme, if he sees that the idea of getting pregnant from him terrifies you as he is your captor, he is going to impregnate you with desire and on purpose, just to fuck you, torture you and well, in the process he will mark territory, by fucking you he will torture with the idea, if he achieves his goal now he only has the same thing left, making you feel bad, making you feel guilty, but he will probably still take care of you since in the end you are valuable to him.

Uvogin:

He barely fell in love with you, he knew that you were going to be the mother of his 78 children, Uvogin is the stereotype of a man who wants to get you pregnant 24/7, it won't even be two months after you have given birth before you are already pregnant again, he simply likes it because it is a way to keep you by his side, dominate you and take ownership of you. He has a fairly activated reproductive instinct due to his barbaric and somewhat animal nature. He's excited about getting you pregnant, he's excited about having you pregnant, he's excited about being able to fuck you when you're swollen with his babies. Added to that he may be a horrible person, a thief, a murderer and many other things, but it comes naturally to him to be a father, he loves his children, all of them.

Nobunaga:

The truth is that I feel that Nobunaga is one of these characters with the authentic desire to one day have children, he likes the idea of ​​raising little swordsmen who run from one place to another simulating an epic and legendary duel and there is no better way to join the love of your life than forming a family (That's what he thinks) It doesn't matter much if you agree, it will still happen.

He is going to get you pregnant, he is going to take care of you and he will do everything humanly possible to be with you, of course I also emphasize that probably doing it with you even if you are pregnant, it is quite exciting for him.

Franklin:

I wouldn't know how to interpret him very well in fact, I feel that he is not someone who is dying to be a father but he also does not hate the idea and if you ask him he will listen to you, he will take great care of you and his little ones. (I DON'T KNOW MUCH ABOUT FRANKLIN, FORGIVE ME FRANKLIN FANS!)

Illumi:

The same as with Uvogin, but somewhat different. He would say that he has a fairly marked kink breeding because in his family he has seen it as common and necessary to have many children (he literally has 4 siblings). When he fell in love with you the next thing in his brain was to imagine the family he would have with you as soon as possible. Once you are together (Whether by marriage or kidnapping) Illumi will probably have locked himself in the room with you until he makes sure that you are pregnant, Illumi never shows his emotions, but when he is fucking you and has you tightly grabbed, his body trembles of the emotion and excitement of being able to get you pregnant. Once you are very pregnant and swollen, he won't stop fucking you either (As long as your child is safe), he can simply become more obsessed with you now that you are carrying his baby. If everything goes well, I estimate at least 7 pregnancies, furthermore, all these pregnancies are going to be followed, as soon as you give birth, it will be a matter of time before he impregnates you again.

Hisoka:

I don't find any logical reason, he likes the idea of ​​having a partner, but not forming a "family." The only reason I can find is that in his moments of madness and revenge.

Especially if he has already left the Gen'ei Ryodan and wants revenge, if you are a partner of one of them, he will impregnate you with hatred and desire but only for revenge.

Shalnark:

I think we have already talked about this in this profile multiple times but we will do it again.

Shalnark doesn't want kids, he hates kids, he hates kids grabbing his things, he hates not being the focus of your attention and everything related to pregnancy and having kids.

BUT

It is an idea that he can consider in the same way, if he consider that you have problems in the relationship, he will consider an alternative to soften you and tie you down.

In other situation, if you mention it to him, obviously you have to beg him if you are the one who wants to have children, but if you are convincing, you will have your child.

But Shalnark is cruel and twisted in nature, I don't think he is someone who loves his children in a paternal way, he probably sees them as a pet and will appreciate them (Also as something to blackmail and threaten you with).

Chrollo:

Chrollo is a being of curious, selfish and greedy nature, a being rejected by the world. I think he has that desire to form a family and ABOVE ALL, have a child, it is something that will finally be authentically HIS.

It's not that he KILLS to get you pregnant or it's a mortal necessity (Like Uvogin to Illumi) but it's a recurring thought.

It doesn't matter if you agree or not, he's still going to get you pregnant when he can. He is going to push hard into your pussy and he is going to cling to your body telling you how beautiful mother you are going to be and how he is not going to stop until you are all swollen and pretty, that you will be his queen and that he will do everything for you.

Simply love your pregnancy, love hugging your belly, talking to it and planting soft kisses on it.

Thanks for reading this shit 🤍

[redstarwriting]

protected

hobie brown x o’hara!reader

request?: yes

request: “I know you’re probably busy 🙏🏽 but can I request a hobie x reader Where reader is miguels kid but from another universe and we were known as “dangerous” to the multiverse and miguel had to watch over us and we find out while hanging out with hobie and hobie has to comfort us as we try to process the fact that Miguel wasn’t our real dad and just someone keeping the mutliverse safe?

I really hope this makes sense i just don’t know how to make is make sense uk? 😭 💀”

requested by: @millerworld​

word count: 1.7k

genre: angst with some fluff

Warnings: language, mentions of childbirth death, big feelings of betrayal, probably horrible spanish, honestly a lot of angst

A/N: apologies for the wait for this one! i love writing angst though so i was rubbing my hands together like an evil lil bitch writing this. i apologize if the spanish is wrong/not how it would actually be said/worded. been a minute since i took a spanish course, so i am a little rusty. please enjoy, and thank you so much for requesting, love! :)

───────────────────────────────────

Ever since you remembered your dad, Miguel O’Hara, was there. Of course, there are certain moments of your childhood you don’t remember, as every child has, but your earliest memory is your dad picking you up and soothing you as you cried at two years old. And ever since then, he was always there. Your friends at school would always say you were so lucky that you had a dad that was so devoted to you, and you agreed. To an extent. See, he was very particular about what he allowed you to do. It wasn’t in a negative way, necessarily, he was just protective. His favorite saying and your least favorite saying in your house was ‘I just want what’s best for you, cariño.’

It resulted in you staying home from school events, friend events, and generally any type of event where your safety could have been compromised. It caused you to be a bit of a loner, always hearing about the parties, the gossip, all of it instead of actually experiencing it for yourself.

Of course, it annoyed you.

It still does.

He’s loosened up a bit eventually, though, allowing you to go to work with him. Which also meant you got to meet many spiders. Quite a few of the spider-people quickly became your closest friends, as it was simpler and easier for your dad to keep tabs on you in Spider Society. Much to his chagrin, you quickly became best friends with Hobie Brown. The two of you were around the same age, and since you were annoyed at your dad and in your rebellious era, you got along swimmingly. A little too swimmingly, actually, which Miguel purposefully chose to ignore for the most part. Until he saw Hobie sucking his little one’s face off. Regardless, Hobie was always quick to validate all your conflicted, annoyed, and even positive feelings about your father. He even helped you come out of your shell and rebel against Miguel occasionally.

Miguel didn’t like this very much, but he also knew that Hobie was still a good influence on you. No matter how many times both of you tried to convince him that he wasn’t. But sometimes, Hobie would talk you into doing things that he very much disliked. Hated, even. And this time was one of those times. While he was out, containing a particularly difficult anomaly, Hobie convinced you to search through Miguel’s personal files on his supercomputer because he bet if your birth certificate would be anywhere, it would be there. When you found a folder with your name, you expected to open it to see some family pictures, hoping for your birth certificate with the name of your mom. Your dad never really talked about your mom, just that she passed away during childbirth. You stopped asking because every time you did, he would get very quiet and a guilty look would appear on his face. But you’d be lying if you said you weren’t curious. So you went into this endeavor excited to see what you might find out. Unfortunately, that excitement didn’t last for very long. See when you opened your file expecting these mundane things, that wasn’t what you were met with.

In fact, that was nowhere near what you found.

You found detailed notes all about you.

“What the hell,” you mumble, scrolling through the various pictures of you as an infant, with two adult strangers. Hobie said nothing, looking at all the pictures and skimming the important parts of all the files you were pulling up with a frown on his face. You stop on a specific picture of a woman holding you in a hospital bed. She was smiling.

And she was very much alive.

Tears immediately start to well up in your eyes as Hobie gently pulls your hands away from the computer. “Think that’s enough a’ that, love,” he says softly. You yank your arms away from him. “No.” You scroll to the next photo, seeing a man you’ve never met before holding you in the same hospital room, with the same strange woman right next to him. The next time you scroll, it’s a detailed account from Miguel about who you are. Notes from your dad declaring you a ‘danger’ and that you ‘must be contained somehow.’ Talk of your biological parents, their names, and how you had to be separated from them before ‘irreversible damage was done to the multiverse.’

You stare at the screen, and Hobie pulls your hands away again, successfully this time. He steps between you and the screens, blocking your view and slowly walking you backward and away from the files. You’re too shocked to say anything, the only thing you can do is quietly cry. Hobie opens his mouth to say something when Miguel’s voice rings out. “What do the two of you think you’re doing?”

The two of you turn your heads toward Miguel, and his annoyed frown turns to one of concern as soon as he sees the look on your face. “¿Qué tienes, mi corazón?” Miguel asks, his voice much softer as he approaches you. Hobie moves, positioning himself between you and your ‘father,’ and scoffs. “Think you got some explainin’ to do ‘ere, mate,” Hobie says, and Miguel looks at him confused. Then he sees what’s on the screen. A look of horrified realization spreads across his face, and he looks at you. “(Y/n), cariño, I can explain.”

“Don’t call me that,” your voice, albeit shaky, finally comes back to you. Hobie turns his attention to you, squeezing the hand you’ve been holding onto for dear life ever since he pulled you away from the computer. “(Y/n)—”

“Who am I? Who are you to me?”

“…Please, let me—”

“WHO ARE THOSE PEOPLE?!” you shout, desperately yearning for your dad to say they weren’t what was said in his reports. But all he does is frown. “They’re… they are your biological parents,” he confesses, and you make a choked noise. Hobie subtly begins turning his watch to his universe, ready to make an escape from your dad at any point. “If you just let me explain—”

“I’m a threat to the multiverse?” you choke out through your tears, “What the fuck does that mean, papá?! If I can even call you that.” Miguel’s jaw clenches. “Don’t forget who raised you.”

“How could I?! How could you?! Is this why you never let me do anything?! Too worried your querido bebecito would destroy the fucking multiverse?!”

“(Y/n). I did it to protect everyone.”

“What about me?! Did you ever plan on telling me?! How is separating me from my family protecting me?!” Hobie places an arm around your shoulder, pulling you closer and keeping you shielded by him as Miguel tries to step closer to you. Miguel glares at him, and Hobie glares back. Miguel holds out his hand in a surrendering way. “It was to protect you just as much, if not more, as it was to protect everyone else. If you would just listen—“

“No. No, I’m done listening to you.”

“Cariño—”

“I am not tú cariño. I am not tú corazoón. You are not mi papá,” you say, venom behind your words. You can practically see Miguel’s heart shatter into tiny little pieces.

That was the worst thing you could have ever said to him.

Before he can say anything else, Hobie opens the portal, pulling you through and closing it almost immediately. You find yourself in the familiar atmosphere of his flat. “C’mere, love,” he mumbles, pulling you into his arms. You grip his shirt, sobbing into his chest as he rocks you back and forth, softly shushing you occasionally and rubbing your back. After what feels like hours, but was really maybe a minute, he swiftly picks you up, carrying you bridal style to his bed as you continue to cry into his shirt. He sits down, placing a soft kiss to the top of your head and rubbing up and down your arm. He can’t help but feel guilty for this. If he didn’t convince you to look at the computer…

“Don’t blame yourself, Hobie… please,” you whimper, and he sighs. “Love, you needa stop bein’ so good at knowin’ what i’m thinkin’,” he mumbles, and you look up at him with a soft smile. “Can’t help it. Even your thoughts are loud,” you say, and he snorts. “Chuffed to see the cryin’ made ya feel better,” he says and you shake your head. “I still feel like shit, Hobie,” you whisper, and he frowns. He gently wipes some tears away from your cheeks. “Reckon all ‘at cryin’ has you knackered?” he mumbles, and you nod softly. He lays backwards, maneuvering the two of you to be laying down. The two of you face each other, one of his hands cradling the side of your face while the other soothingly rubs up and down your side. You grip onto his shirt, and he places a soft peck on your nose. “‘m sorry, love,” he says, and you sniffle. “I already told you it isn’t your fault.”

“‘Kay, still feel like it was,” he says, and you sigh. “That’s not important right now,” he mumbles, gently pulling you closer. “What’s important is that I make you feel better.” You look at him, your eyes are still glossy from tears. “Never met someone who looked so stunnin’ when they cry,” he says, gently stroking your cheek. You smile softly, and he does too. “There’s my favorite smile,” he whispers before softly placing his lips on yours. It’s only for a second, but it makes all the pain go away. And you’re grateful for that. Even if it is just for a second. “Get some sleep, love.” He kisses your forehead, tangling his legs with yours and pulling your head into his chest. You relax into him. He was right. The crying was exhausting. Before you know it, you’re asleep as Hobie gently traces shapes into your skin, whispering anything and everything he loves about you to you so softly that if you weren’t really listening, you wouldn’t hear any of it. No one makes you feel protected quite like Hobie does.

And even if it’s just for a moment, thanks to Hobie, you feel like everything will be okay.

───────────────────────────────────

[iliveforyouilongforyouvesuvia]

May I request some full HCs of the M6 with an ex coliseum fighter MC?

The Arcana HCs: M6 with an ex-Coliseum fighter MC

Julian

His first thought when he laid eyes on you after he broke into your shop was "wow, they must have some stories to tell!"

Oddly enough, the physical (and mental/emotional) scars you carry from your time in the Coliseum are big reasons for why he chooses to trust you - and, eventually to cherish you. You've been through it

As someone who's had quite the wild life himself, he can trust you to understand how difficult experiences do and don't define who you are. He knows if he talks about life with pirates, you'll get it

If it's his turn to have a nightmare, he doesn't have to worry that talking about his bad dreams will expose you to new horrors. If it's your turn, he's a light sleeper for good reasons

Tends to pry for stories about your time there, but in a good way that pushes you to process what it was like

Checked over all the scars you accumulated there and regularly asks after any lingering chronic pain from the injuries

Once he's gotten past the initial flirtatious comments and the awkwardness of opening up, he'd be lying if he doesn't find the scars and background very attractive. Rough him up anytime ~

Asra

They're in two minds about the whole situation and they're not totally sure how to proceed with it when discomfort isn't their thing

He's glad you're not there anymore. He often wonders if you coming back without memories was actually a merciful thing, if it meant not remembering the details of your trauma

They hate seeing all the marks of pain and violence on your body, because it's like a reminder to them of one of the many ways they somehow let you down or left you alone when you needed help

Deep down, however, it's beyond comforting to him to know what you're capable of surviving without help, because he knows he can't always be there for you no matter how hard he tries

They know that if you're ever in a situation again where your life is threatened, you'll fight viciously to preserve it. They hate that you experienced it and hope you never will again, but they're relieved

All that to say, he doesn't know how to talk about it and he's not going to broach the subject unless you do

Still committed to loving you and being open with you. They know you, they know you're good, and they want you to know them too

Nadia

When she first met you, she assumed the scars must have come from fighting in a war. The Coliseum didn't occur to her

She doesn't even have the clearest memories of it, since she only really saw it after being married to the man who instated it. That doesn't stop her from feeling immensely guilty about it

This happened to you while she had the power to push back against it, and she didn't. There was so much going wrong that she never addressed because she was holed up in her tower, hiding

That only spurs her to try to make things right. You do receive a halting but heartfelt apology from her early on, and a respectful invitation to share your experience with her at your comfort

Just as you've helped her to move on and recover, she wants to do the same for you. You have a powerful skill set. To the extent that you're willing to, she'd love to see you put it to noble use

How do you feel about teaching martial arts? She'll put you in touch with Nahara, and will help you fund a teaching studio for anyone who could use the coaching

Or you could be her personal bodyguard ...

Muriel

More than anything, he's just relieved he never had to kill you. He already has so much regret to live with, and the thought of ending the person who would've made life good again is horrific

That doesn't make you easy to be around at first. Everything about you brings back the memories he wants to leave behind

The scars that match his, the way you react to movement, even the way you walk to compensate for the drag of chains you don't wear anymore. You're the un-hateable mirror of everything that hurts

And that's just after the first few days. Truthfully, you scare him, and even after building a new life with you there are still moments when being perceived by you terrifies him, because you get him

You don't need words or confessions to understand the hell that's shaped him so profoundly. And even when he can't stand to carry someone else's pain on top of his own, he still understands yours

It's precisely that forced vulnerability that makes loving you so profoundly healing. He loves you for you, he loves you for the pain you've experienced, and since it's the same as his own, he's learning to love himself begrudgingly in the process

Portia

Not put off by you at all, which is extremely rare for you

She finds it attractive if anything. You look like someone who's really lived. You look like someone who gives as good as they get

It makes her a little uncomfortable to be around at first. She's so quickly caught up in the coolness and excitement of your violent past that she can get borderline insensitive with her questions

What's it like to be in a fight? Who's the biggest person you fought? Did you really have to kill all of your opponents? How many did you kill? Was there a lot of blood? What weapons did you use?

Does a complete 180 the first time she sees the emotional and mental toll it's taken on you. She's so empathetic, it takes all of five seconds for her to understand this is trauma before she's weeping

So very happy to be your anchor and grounding presence. She will hold you and grieve with you and never, ever, ever look at you differently for what you were a part of. You're not scary to her

Almost overprotective when it comes to how other people perceive you. Someone's acting like you're the scariest person in the room and making you uncomfortable? She's about to prove them wrong

Lucio

After spending three years as a goat ghost, he doesn't care who you are, just talk to him - oh, his survival depends on your good graces? And he had you stuck as a Coliseum fighter? Hmmm

Tried to hide it, but he was scared at first. He was smart enough to know that you had good reason to dislike him, and therefore plenty of reason to further mess him up in such a vulnerable state

But you didn't. Which made him confused. And curious

Tell him about your time there, then! What was it like being in the ring? Being a participant in his favorite fight of yours?

Oh. Oh, it was that bad? ..... oh.

He carries guilt for every painful repercussion you experience. It was shame, and now it looks more like remorseful responsibility, but he doesn't need it rubbed in his face to know it was wrong

What he also knows is a valuable lesson you taught him, which is both the importance and possibility of making things right

You will never have a nightmare he won't be ready to comfort you for. You will never have an injury he won't be getting his clothes dirty for treating it. You will always, always have him by your side

[princessozera]

so, random thought, there's a good chance the demon bros inadvertently harmed mc in some capacity just because human and demon limits are so vastly different, and the main human any have had contact with is Solomon, whose humanity is somewhat debatable. mc might act like they're invincible, but they are human in the end, and human durability is largely that we can keep going after almost any injury, not that we don't get injured

like Lucifer strings them up as he would his brothers, forgetting (assume he's really tired or stressed or whatever) that doing so puts a lot of pressure on the body and can cause actual damage instead of just being annoying like it is to his brothers. depending on how exactly he ties them up it'd change the effects but it's never gonna be great for them

Mammon running away from shenanigans with them and he tugs on their hand a bit too hard and fast to get them safely around a corner and dislocates their shoulder in the process because force = mass x speed and Mammon is a speedy boy. or he's running from Lucifer and slams into them at top speed, and if they can't protect their head from the wall/floor you know Mams is freaking out because mc is all out of it and there's so much blood and he doesn't care how Lucifer punishes him as long as he makes sure mc is alright

otaku Levi with his nonexistent sleep schedule doesn't realise just how badly sleep deprivation affects humans. paranoia, weakened immune system, depersonalisation, all the way to sleep deprivation psychosis. you go 96 hours or 4 days without sleep and lemme tell you, you ain't properly attached to reality anymore. been there, done that, would not recommend. there were bugs crawling all over my arms and legs and shadow people whispering. fucking sucked, and I was constantly shaking so I kept dropping stuff

if anyone knows about human durability, at least in theory, it's Satan, but the avatar of wrath can be emotionally charged. he really didn't mean to hurt them, but he was trying so hard not to lose it that day and as he led mc out of his room so they wouldn't be caught in the inevitable explosion, his deadly sharp claws nicked their skin. the wounds were mostly superficial— hurt like a bitch but no major arteries were damaged— but there was quite a lot of blood and Satan felt sick in a way he never had before. humans scar easily, a useful trait to close open wounds quickly, but Satan hates that he was the cause of those raised lines

Asmo is probably best at remembering since he hangs out with Solomon and has had human lovers before, but he is mostly around Solomon who cannot die. so he doesn't always remember what is and isn't toxic for humans, especially since a lot of poisons are used in medicines at lower doses and a lot of things we need to live are poisonous if we consume enough. it'd only take one slip up to put mc in hospital, and of course they don't blame him but he begs Satan to teach him as much as he can so it never happens again

you know Beel would try his best to remember, and he'd feel horribly guilty if he ever hurt mc, but he's big and strong even by demon standards and can eat anything that isn't Solomon's cooking. there's a few ways this one could go— sharing food with them that's toxic to humans, hugging them a bit too hard, mc giving him their food and going hungry, they work out together and they get hurt... take your pick

and Belphie knows all too well how fragile mc is, so he's very careful with his demonic strength around them. he already killed them once with barely any effort. but one day he wakes up from napping with mc to find he held them too hard and they're bruising. maybe his arm curled around their neck as it bloomed black and blue once again. Belphie doesn't nap with them for a while after that

! ANON! 💕💕💕💕

I don't know how you sniped me from across the highway but whump/injuries are exactly my cup of obsession and I've thought about this forever- i just never really had enough to make a full post. I LOVE your ideas and I hope you dont mind me bouncing some of my own off them;

----

Lucifer and his funny little habit of hanging his brothers 💕 Say he takes pity on MC, makes sure they're right side up, nothing around the neck and only tied beneath the arms and around the legs. Plans to take them down in 5 minutes, really it was meant to be the pet equivalent of air jail. But a call here, difficulties there and 5 minutes turn to 10 and then it slips to 15. It's so little time, absolutely nothing compared to the nights he's left Mammon up over the banister.

So why are there screams in the hall? Why are Asmo, Mammon and Levi on the phone with Solomon, Barbatos, and Simeon respectively? He doesn't understand why they don't immediatley drop MC down, only catching the tail end of Solomon explaing something called "suspension trauma" to Asmo. When they do get MC down, even from a distance he can see the color is almost completely gone from their face, while their legs are a few shades darker. He watches Satan mouth out the count for MC's pulse, quick and staggering. When MC wakes, they can't seem to take a proper breath- gasping, clutching their chest, tearing up and confused. There isn't much more any of them can do, other than stand back and hand MC over to Barbatos and Solomon.

----

In a movie, it would be considered slapstick comedy, the way that Mammon skid around a corner full speed, carpet pulling under his feet , hip checking the wall as he ran away from Lucifer. In a movie it would be hilarious they way him and MC crashed, sending them literally flying back, head bouncing off the wall, swirls in their eyes and stars dancing around their head. In a movie they would only need to shake it off and get up to yell at him, with Lucifer standing back and watching in smug satisfaction.

But there wasn't anything funny about this, MC slumped in his arms, blood turning his tshirt into a darker shade of black, making it tacky and stick onto his skin. They're awake, sort of? But their pupils aren't the same size, and the speech is slurred. There's a truce as Lucifer heals MC, and they get them to a proper doctor.

Mammon gets better at ducking and weaving around MC, it even helps him evade Lucifer better. But MC doesn't escape the dislocated shoulders, and unwanted popping of their knuckles when Mammon holds their hand too hard. Neither had known that after the first dislocation, its a lot easier to dislocate your should again. It's never intentional, but it always hurts- MC tries to breathe through it if there is an urgency, but Mammon catches the way they pointedly look away, trying to blink the tears away, and knows that he's- once again- failed to keep MC out of harm.

---------

Levi being MC's energy drink dealer. He doesnt know why they dont but their own, but he has plenty so he ultimately doesnt mind sharing. They're not attached at the hip so he doesnt see how little sleep MC is getting, a single can carrying them through 2 whole days. They know its time to 1-up again when their heart stops sounding like helicopter blades.

He finds them on the floor of their room, rubbing their arms raw with the hard bristle brush Asmo uses to buff his horns, babbling incoherently to themselves.

-----

With Satan the physical is NEVER intentional, as much as he used to rage in the early days of the fall, the thought of hurting MC didn't sit well with him. But tiny nicks are so easy to cause when even his regular nails are sharper than a humans'. If MC can keep their reactions subtle, it wont be until Satan is laying in their lap that he notices the "freckles" on their arms don't quite lay flat.

When you're used to fast reflexes, you don't think twice about slamming a door in someone's face. Someone (MC) who was too close and now has a broken, bloody nose. Now whenever the snore in their sleep, or their nose whistles when they laugh too hard, Satan remembers opening the door to MC doubled over, blood leaking from between their fingers as they tried to put pressure on the bridge of their nose.

-------

Dosage and concentration.

Asmo is vaugely familiar with these terms- SPF strength, alcohol proofing, acidity in his skin care. He's had so many spa nights with Solomon that he doesn't think twice about sharing his skin care routine with MC as well. Powders, gels, creams, exfoliants. Some a bit too harsh, MC's skin turns warm and flush, so he thinks their skin is sensitive. He'd ask for help caring for his wings and horns. MC goes in with their bare hands to get a good scrub, attributing the burn to the rough edges and upturned edges of Asmo's horns. It feels like icyhot, so it must be working. When they're done, Asmo tries to take the rest of the cream off their hands to apply to his hands, but they both scream as a visible layer of skin from MC starts peeling off as well. The acid having fulling numbed and killed off most of the senses in MC's hand, had started to deteriorate the skin, and its by some small blessing that MC hadnt already applied it to their face. It takes a panicked called to Solomon to get the feeling back into MC's hands, but it still takes weeks for the skin to grow back on to their hands. The pain of bandages on raw muscle is excruciating, and Asmo sticks to them like glue, fully taking the blame for their condition.

-----

Beel and Belphie have another trauma to share as twins- nearly killing MC in their sleep! Beel doesnt understand how heavy an unconcious body can be, and being as large as he is, this becomes a problem the first time him and MC share a bed. He falls asleep with an arm draped over them, but exhaustion from practice has him rolling on to them. Even if not entirely covering them, the weight on their chest makes it hard to breathe and MC soon drops nicities and is trying their damnest to get him off or at least wake him up. Its a panicked use of the pacts to call another brother that saves them, and Beel cant sleep for the rest of the night.

Belphie doesn't have as many night terrors these days, but they can still get bad. Usually sleeping with MC can keep these dreams at bay, but on nights that they dont, he wakes up to find MC tossed onto the floor or squeezed between him and the wall. On the worsts of these nights, he woke up to MC screaming, having wrapped a hand and tail so tightly around their arm that it shattered in 2 places.

(Can I also offer a beel and belphie alternative: MC wanting to match Beel's stamina/ gym workout time and getting muscle deterioration. Belphie wanting a sleeping partner so he messes up their sleeping cycles, 10+ hrs asleep, accidentally depriving them of light, water, and food, causing a depressive episode)

[jordosprout]

And With Thunder Comes Rain

Pairing: Wrecker x GN!Reader SFW

Can be read platonically/Mutual Pining

Dividers: @stars-n-spice

Word Count: 3,443

Warnings: Angst, Descriptions of storms, Nightmares, Sleep deprivation, Grief, Wrecker feels guilty

Summary: Wrecker comes to you looking for comfort after the events of Eriadu.

AN: Look at me all punctual when I'm the one making the due date? But nooo when someone else tells me I need to have something done at a certain time, that's just not possible /lh. Please note this is my first time really writing a fic for Wrecker! If need be I might make edits to this. Gender neutral pronouns are used at the end, other than that none are used. Please enjoy!!

It has been a standard week since the events of Eriadu and the capture of Omega that followed. 

There was so much uncertainty that puddled inside you and the squad—every day you spent tense and on edge, not knowing what the future would bring—having little to no sense of familiarity or consistency. You didn’t know how to adapt to the rapid changes around you—how to move around the physical and emotional wounds that persisted you during every task. Everything was going faster than you could process. But eventually, it became clear that you couldn’t just do nothing.

That was when the obsessive need to become a better pilot for the Batch started. It was the only thing you could think of that would make you useful right now. Flying like your life depended on it was the only thing that distracted you from the turmoil of such a detrimental loss. 

You started one of your runs after Hunter’s briefing, notifying you and Wrecker that Echo would be leaving with Rex later that day cycle. It must have been 3, no, 4 hours before you were commed by Hunter “Havoc 6, it’s time to come down. You’ve been at it long enough.”

You shook your head despite knowing he couldn’t see you, “No can do Sarge, I need to get this down.” you explained, using the nickname you started calling him when you first joined his squad. He wasn’t ever technically your sergeant, and you found it fun to pull his leg with that fact.

He said your name in a warning tone, “That’s an order.”

You groaned, you hated when he pulled that card. No, he wasn’t your sergeant, but you still followed and respected him as the leader, and he knew that. You probably shouldn’t continue to test him.

Turning the Marauder you made your return to the cliff you stationed yourselves at, camping out in a large cave on the side of it. You completed your landing sequence, exiting the shuttle begrudgingly with a displeased Hunter to greet you, a hand on his hip; Echo was beside him shaking his head. You simply responded putting both of your hands on your hips and childishly poking out your tongue at Hunter. You looked behind him, finding Wrecker sitting on an old crate. He had been more open about the hurt caused by the last mission. Often quiet, saying little to nothing. You felt your eyebrows press together in worry.

You moved past Hunter taking a seat beside Wrecker on a separate crate. You looked down at his hand resting next to his leg. You wanted nothing more than to hold it.

But instead, you rubbed his shoulder attempting to soothe the hurting giant next to you.

Echo’s departure wasn’t making the changes any easier for anybody. You all knew it was coming, that he wouldn’t be able to stay long. That his heart was in the fight. But you hoped all of you would have a few more days before Rex took him back. You enjoyed his presence, and even if they didn’t outright say it, so did the rest of the squad.

You stayed with Wrecker whilst Echo and Hunter awaited Rex’s arrival beside the Marauder. Wrecker had kept his gaze on the floor, his eyes carrying a sad gleam.

Once Rex’s shuttle arrived, Echo approached you and placed his hand on one of your shoulders.

“Make sure they stay outta trouble.” 

You nod, trying desperately to not let your emotions get to you.

“And quit drinking so much karking caf, it’s not good for you,” he said light-heartedly as he gave you a squeeze on your shoulder.

You gave a playful scoff, “No promises,” you responded causing him to roll his eyes.

“Just try, yeah?”

You look away from him and rub your head, mumbling, “Yeah yeah, I’ll work on it.”

Moving over to Wrecker, Echo gave him a reassuring squeeze on the bicep, “Everything will be fine, don’t worry.”

Wrecker only gives a faint nod in response, his eyes slightly wincing at the pain from moving his neck.

Echo gave you both one more nod goodbye before he turned around to head to Rex’s ship. Rex wrapped an arm around his shoulder and walked him up the ramp. Echo turned his head and gave you all a wave of his scomp before the doors closed, and the ship took him with it.

You all stood there, watching as Rex and Echo left the atmosphere. Even Wrecker lifted his head to watch the man he had come to care for leave. You couldn’t help the pang in your heart. You wanted nothing more than to keep your boys with you, so you could know they were safe. But you knew that what Echo was doing was important work that he needed to do for himself—for his brothers.

Once Rex’s shuttle was no longer visible, Wrecker stood, heading inside the Marauder, leaving only you and Hunter outside.

“What do we do now, Sarge?” you asked, unable to hide the waver of doubt in your voice. You hoped your leader would give you a plan you could hold yourself to.

Hunter sighed, you couldn’t ignore how tired he looked. “We keep searching. We… don’t let Tech’s sacrifice go to waste. That’s what we do.”

“But how?”

He turned to face you, “I don't know,

but we’ll figure it out. We always do. We have to, for all our sakes.”

It’s been only three days since Echo left, and Wrecker became that of a ghost. Spending the past few days in the gunner’s mount. The silence that came made the Marauder feel foreign; as if you walked onto the wrong ship. You wished he’d talk to you, to Hunter. You just wanted him to say something. You hated it when everything was so quiet. At least when he and Omega were making a ruckus, you knew they were okay. A loud crew was an alive one.

You had spent the entirety of the day helping Hunter take count of inventory. And with your final numbers, the pit in your stomach deepened. There were only two days worth of rations to split between the crew. And when you told Hunter he was, expectantly, just as concerned. You saw his heart sink, and the bags under his sleep-deprived eyes deepen. 

“I need to comm Rex,” he mumbled, running a hand down his face before heading to the cockpit and immediately attempting to make contact with Rex. He only patched through after his second attempt. The conversation wasn’t long, as Rex and Echo had a mission to pick up a clone wanting to leave the empire. But miraculously, they had someone in mind to help.

As soon as Rex gave him the information he needed, Hunter moved to the Navicomps and began mapping out the route you were to take. You offered to give him a hand, but he insisted he had it covered. So instead you left him with a cup of caf before you went to the cockpit.

You hoped Rex’s contact would be able to help as he said. That once you had a full inventory, everyone’s minds would be able to settle. That you’d be able to get on your feet to start searching for answers. 

The cloudy day transitioned into a stormy night on the planet you and the boys managed to station yourselves on; the drumming of rain becoming a hypnotic lullaby. You have a hot cup of caf in your hands. It makes sense to stay awake instead of disrupting your sleep later since you’d need to be awake in three standard hours to meet Rex’s contact. However, you couldn't help the calm, empty daze coming over you. It was pleasant to have an empty mind, to say the least, even if it was only for a moment—even if it was hard to maintain when the ship's silence matched that of your head.

It felt wrong trying to enjoy the calm after losing so much—after losing everything. As if, you weren't allowed to have it.

You pinched the bridge of your nose, cursing yourself for not enjoying the moment. Who knew when you’d have one like this again?

You grumbled inaudibly to yourself, finishing the last of your caf as you stared out the transparisteel. When you were about to get up to refill your cup, you could almost feel Echo’s disapproving gaze. 

So you decided that maybe one would be enough.

You rubbed your hands together, it was freezing in the Marauder. You wanted nothing more than to turn on the heating systems, but Hunter told you against it earlier; he wanted to conserve energy when possible. You tucked the old Republic-issued blanket on your lap, the thin fabric doing little to keep you warm.

“When have we ever followed orders?”

“No!”

“Tech!”

Wrecker’s body shoots up, banging his head, thunder challenging him as it crashes loudly in the distance. His body is ridden with shivers, unable to regain control as he takes in his surroundings—frantically looking for Lula. A relieved sigh escapes him once he sees her arm poking out from behind him. Wrecker immediately went to lift her to his face. The soft and familiar fabric was a nice contrast to his sweat-covered skin. He moved to sit crisscrossed, resting the tooka doll in his lap. Tears fell as he fiddled with the ears of the doll Tech had made him when they were cadets.

Nightmares have been pursuing Wrecker as their prey since they got back from their failed mission. And while Lula used to chase them away, she wasn’t able to this time. Because the nightmares were real.

They happened, they weren’t a reality he could run from.

He had always thought that he would have been the one to call out Plan 99—to go down for his vods. But here he was. Still here, still alive, while one of them wasn’t. Because he wasn’t able to reach him fast enough. 

Because he failed.

Wrecker wiped away the tears before they fell, his lip pulling to a frown as he refrained from letting out a sob. 

He was convinced that this was supposed to be easier. The Kaminoans made it seem like it would be. They all went through so much conditioning in case a vod was lost. Yet, despite that. Despite what he was told, he sat there, unable to grasp the idea of losing one of them, for as much as he knew, forever. 

He gulped hard, he needed to be around someone. He shifted in the gunner’s mount and made his way down, beloved Lula still in hand.

He looked to his side at the Navicomps, finding Hunter asleep. He hesitated in waking up his vod and decided to see if someone else was awake instead.

The silence was suddenly broken when footsteps began to thud throughout the shuttle, and you immediately recognized them as Wrecker. There was a momentary quiet before the door to the cockpit wooshed open. Wrecker, or who you assumed to be Wrecker, stood quietly at the entrance.

“Y’ up?” He finally asked, attempting to be quiet in case you weren't. His voice was more graveled than usual from the lack of use. 

“Yeah, I'm awake.” You responded, turning your seat to face him. He still had his neck brace, and had Lula in one of his hands. 

He stayed where he stood, shifting his weight again with a hand on the back of his head while the other continued to hold Lula.

“S’ okay uh… if I sit in here?”

You nodded, offering a gentle smile. He made his way to the copilot seat before easing himself down. He leaned back into the chair, eyes fixed on the sky in front of you.

“What’s Hunter up to?” you asked casually, attempting to make light conversation.

“He fell asleep at the Navi. I didn’t wanna wake 'em up.” He told you, rubbing one of Lula's arms between his pointer and thumb. 

You hummed, not surprised. You’ve found Hunter like that a few times yourself recently; only sleeping in short bursts before he was working again. And while you’ve insisted on him simply sleeping on a rack instead, he couldn’t bring himself to. The idea of not doing anything made him restless. That was clear. But some sleep is always better than no sleep.

You both stared up at the water droplets coming and going. Lightning expertly streaked the clouds like they were a canvas and it was a master painter; thunder shaking the sky above not long after. Wrecker was almost completely silent beside you. After a few moments of shared quiet, you glanced at him, his form silhouetted in darkness, the glow of navigation screens illuminating the edges of his face. You cleared your throat.

“So…How’re ya holdin’ up?” you finally prompted. You already knew that answer. But you wanted him to know you were here for him. 

Wrecker continued to face the windshield as he glanced at you with glassy eyes. He cleared his throat before he looked back to the glass as his lips tightened into a line. Only then did you notice the shake in his hands. How long have they been doing that?

“Wreck?” you called for him softly, but he didn’t give you a response. He merely put his head into his right hand, the flesh of his thumb and pointer finger covering his eyes. You shifted in your seat and leaned in, grabbing his left hand into yours. It continued to shake as his shoulders began to follow suit; Lula being left in his lap. You squeezed, and his calloused hand squeezed back. “Wrecker…” you gently pleaded.

He breathed in through his nose sharply before the thoughts that plagued him fell like an avalanche.

“I miss em’. I miss Omega I miss Crosshair- I-” he swallowed hard, before trembling out, “I miss Tech. I should’ve been able to reach him- he was right there but I couldn’t,” his lips tightened “I’m sorry I couldn’t-” was all he could get out before a sob interrupted him

You grabbed his cheek, “Wrecker, look at me…” you asked, silently begging him to oblige.

He lifted his head from his hand, looking at you with guilt-ridden eyes. You tilted your head to get a better look at him, eyebrows furrowed in concern.

“Wrecker you need to understand that it’s not your fault. There was nothing you or anyone could have done. Tech… did what he knew would give us the best chance to get out. If there was another solution, he would have seen it,” you explained, tears pricking your own eyes. “There was no time left.”

He leaned into the palm of your hand as it became wet with his tears.

“What if- what if he’s still out there? And we just left him behind?” Wrecker questioned, causing you to stiffen at the suggestion. You paused to think about what to say as he searched your eyes for answers. You haven't been able to accept such a permanent loss yourself. Instead, you had convinced yourself that he was out there. That you wouldn't allow yourself to admit to him being dead unless you had unshakeable proof. That's what kept you going. At Least for now. 

“Tech is a smart and strong man Wrecker. If he survived that fall… he’d find a way to get back to us- to contact us. But we can’t risk going back, Wrecker. Not yet. Not when we have so few hands. Not when we're so low on everything. But… if he’s out there… we’ll find him.” 

Wrecker nodded, squeezing his eyes shut. He had a hand on top of yours now, inaudibly pleading for touch. You leaned forward to press your forehead against his.

“M’ so scared. I don't know what I'd do- you, Hunter, and Echo are all I have left I-” 

“We know Omega and Crosshair are still out there Wrecker. We’ll find them, we’ll bring them home,” you assured, wiping away his stray tears as you spoke.

“What if-” he choked, not needing to finish his unspoken suggestion. You moved your hand from his cheek to the back of his head, holding it to your own.

“No ifs, Wrecker. There are a lot of unknowns right now, and honestly, I’m scared too. But we can’t lose hope. We will search the ends of every galaxy if we have to. If it means our family will be together again. No matter how long that takes, we'll do it together,” you promised.

He gave you a quiet ‘okay’, tears continuing to fall down his cheeks. Not a moment later you felt him leaning his body forward before pulling you into a desperate hug. You didn’t hesitate to hug him back. His body racked with bone-deep shivers as he held onto you. As if you'd vanish if he didn't anchor you down. 

You stayed there like that for a few moments. And part of it was admittedly for yourself just as much as it was for him. The hardships you've all experienced in just the past two weeks alone weighed on the depths of your soul. And now you felt you could finally permit yourself to feel them. You both needed to take a moment to cry it out. And that was easiest to do when you had Wrecker wrapped around you like this. The weight of his grip reminds you that he's real and that he's here. That you're here. 

“I’m… happy you’re with us,” he said, his voice muffled against your shoulder as he gave you another squeeze. 

You sniffled and gave a small lighthearted laugh in an attempt to ease him, “‘Course I’m still here. Who else’ll keep you boys outta trouble when Echo’s away?”

He sniffled before giving you a short chuckle at the comment. You grinned to yourself, happy that you were able to get something out of him with that.

“But in all seriousness, everything will be okay. We’ll get em’ back. Nonna’ us are giving up on them, I promise.” 

He pulled away to look at you before wiping his eyes and smiling at you, wiping your tears off your cheeks when he saw them. “Yeah…you’re probably right,” he agreed sheepishly.

You shivered when the front of your body met the cold air, earning a concerned look from Wrecker.

“You okay?”

You looked up at him confused until you realized what he was referring to.

“Oh- yeah I’m just cold,” you explained, leaning back in your seat, wishing you had a nice hot cup of caf in your hands.

Wrecker stared at the floor of the cockpit in thought before having an idea.

“C’mere,” he offered, patting his lap.

You raised an eyebrow at him, “Ya sure?”

He nodded, placing his arms on the rests to give you more room to get onto his lap. You hesitantly accepted his offer, climbing onto him and disregarding your blanket. Immediately you were met with his warmth, it only increasing when he wrapped his arms around your middle. Lula ended up between you and his arms. Wrecker placed his head on top of yours, ignoring the momentary pain in his neck.

The clouds dissipated over the next hour, the rain softening in turn. You remained with him, both of you sinking into the co-pilot seat. You found yourselves admiring the constellations of this planet together, attempting to lock away the image of them into your memory. You don't remember the moments that came before sleep cradled you both. All you could remember was the feathery kiss that was placed on your head.

Hunter awoke with a crick in his neck from the odd position he had slept in. He attempted to rub out the discomfort with a groan before giving up and meekly accepting it to be his companion for the day. He could feel the rising sun, his senses easily picking up on the wavelengths it emitted. 

He knew that if the sun was rising, that meant the time to leave and meet their contact was approaching. He stood up, rolling his shoulders before heading to the cockpit. He figured that was where you and Wrecker would be, picking up on your distinct scents.

And he was right. There you both were, sharing the copilot seat as you both slept; your hearts beating in time with one another. Wrecker held onto you like you were his Tooka doll, and you slept there comfortably. Though to Hunter's surprise, Wrecker moved his head to face him.

“Shh, they’re sleepin’,” he scolded in a loud whisper.

[theunluckiestdevil]

no Light Fingers spoilers in the notes please!

i spent ALL DAY ON THIS after taking about 12 hours to process what happened on the pier. just, wow. Dr. Müller said yes, of course, they knew they'd be going along with Poor Edward's demands the second someone's life was at stake. and you didn't even give them the ring Eddie!!! smh. do you even know how proposals are supposed to go. additional babbling copypasted from discord under the cut

To put it bluntly, Tomas is upset. Shocking. I know. They went into the docks meeting suspicious of whatever nonsense Ed was gonna pull, and paranoid because of the location. Honestly, they were probably pretty close to how they usually act at Zee, just tunnel visioned in on what needs to be done so they can get out of there, especially since they had to go down a pier (terrible spot Eddie! they hate the Zee!!!). They were not, however, expecting Poor Edward to drag another person into this. And they are so. ANGRY. AT HIM. AT THEMSELF, FOR BEING FOOLISH ENOUGH TO ALMOST PITY HIM THE LAST FEW DAYS. SHAKES POOR EDWARD. YOU'RE INFURIATING. YOU WERE SO CLOSE. THEY WERE THINKING THEMSELF INTO CIRCLES TRYING TO FIGURE OUT IF YOU WERE WORTHY OF THE SYMPATHY THEY FELT. FEEL. THEY DON'T KNOW ANYMORE. and there he goes shooting himself in the foot on that front, by bringing Hephaesta into the mix.

Tomas didn't hesitate before saying yes. The second they saw that another life was at stake, they knew they were going to go along with Poor Edward's demands. And they are very pointedly avoiding thinking about it, instead throwing themself into helping Hephaesta. They feel so stupid for not noticing her disappearance, and quite a bit guilty, so it's the least they can do. And a bit more selfishly, to keep themself from thinking about who they've promised themself to.

[bless-my-demons]

Redamancy: Chapter Twenty-One

Series Summary: What happens when your soulmate is a vampire that struggles to maintain a diet of trying not to kill you? Common sense says run for the hills, nothing is worth your life - but my heart is whispering why not, what’s there to lose?

Warnings: More angst, but of the wolfy-variety!

Notes: I know I said two chapters before Jasper, but I had to fit this one in which is why I’m posting out of my normal window. Trust the process when it comes to why I did what I did this chapter lol and if you don’t spot it, everything will be fine (famous last words). Honestly I think I’m just healing inner me with how I wish conversations should’ve happened in the movie lol

Word Count: 2401

Series Masterlist

• March 8th, 2006 • Home •

Reader

Time starts to pass by a little easier with Quil, the quiet isn’t as deafening even when there’s a comfortable silence. I think the same could be said for Quil, since all of his Rez friends have gone AWOL.

Our days are usually spent under blankets on my couch, watching movies and just being present for each other. Plus, there’s not much to do in this tiny ass town anyways.

“Heard anything?” I ask him tentatively, hopefully.

He shakes his head solemnly in response, eyes never leaving the tv. The fact that he doesn’t even want to talk about Jake or Embry twists a new little knife in my gut.

“I’m okay, Y/n/n.” The grin doesn’t quite reach his eyes and I hate it.

“It’s okay to miss them, I know it’s hard to be stuck with just me now-”

“Don’t.” He reaches over to grab my ankle since I’m facing him on the couch and drags it to his lap, “You’re here and they’re not. I was friends with them longer and they ditched me for other dudes. I’m where I want to be.”

“You don’t have to hold it all in, I’m familiar with that feeling.” I nudge his hand with my socked foot to get him to look at me. “What good am I if I don’t therapize you too?”

“That would insinuate I do anything for you, you won’t talk about him.” His gaze levels on me and I’m caught red handed.

“There’s not much to it, I-I loved him and he’s gone. End of story.” I pick at the loose strings on my blanket, the topic hard for me to meet his eyes.

“There’s everything to it.” He squeezes my foot, “Not end of story, you deserve to vent just as much as I do. You don’t need to feel guilty for grieving him, heartache is a real bitch.”

“Heartache is a bitch, huh?” I huff a laugh as I try to breathe through the tears that want to spring up.

“Y/n, I’m the loneliest guy on the planet. In the male friends department and the girlfriend department, don’t make fun of me.” His lighthearted tone trying and failing to make light of his situation.

“We’re just fucked, aren’t we?” His brown eyes meet mine as we commiserate in our collective sadness.

His head drops back against the back of the couch, “Beyond comprehension, my dear Y/n/n.”

• March 11th, 2006 • Home •

Reader

My finger hovers over a text to Quil, asking him to come over, when I get a call from my other best friend.

“Bells, hey-”

“I need backup.” Her request draws me up short. “I’m going to the Rez-I need to see Jacob.”

“Bella, he’s with Sam now-”

“I don’t care anymore, you in?” She presses.

“I was in the second you called, I’ll be waiting outside.”

“Good, because I’m almost there.” Hanging up the phone, I grab a jacket and my shoes.

So much for the first day of Spring Break, might as well start it off with a bang.

•March 11th, 2006 • Quileute Indian Reservation•

Reader

Bella slid to a stop in Jacob’s driveway and both of us hopped out, memories of bike-building settling like a weight in my stomach. It wasn’t even that long ago and I miss it, I miss Jacob.

Bella knocks on the glass pane of his front door and Billy Black answers, “Bella?”

“I need to see him.”

“He-,” glancing between us briefly, “he’s not in.” The lie blatantly obvious.

“I’m sorry,” Bella pushes past his wheelchair and inside the house, “I really need to see him.”

I remain awkwardly on the front porch, torn between not wanting to intrude or following my friend.

“Bella!” Billy’s warning is ineffective as she storms to Jacob’s room.

Just when the situation couldn’t possibly get worse, I spot four shirtless figures emerging from the forest by the house, Sam’s group.

I hear the back door open and shut and I just know it’s Bella.

I sprint around the house to catch up to her, “Bella!” But my warning falls on deaf ears, she’s on a warpath for the boys. “Shit.” I mutter under my breath.

Stomping up to the tallest - Sam, “What did you do?” She pushes his chest, hard. “What did you do, huh? What did you do to him?!”

“Hey - watch it!” The other two guys plus Embry shout as they step up around their leader.

“Easy.” The word is more of a growl than anything and it causes the hair on the back of my neck to rise.

If this comes to a fight, we’re fucked.

“He didn’t want this!” Her desperation pulls at my heart.

“What did we do? What did he do? What did he tell you?” The questions from the guy to Sam’s right are rapid-fire, his anger clearly volatile.

“He tells me nothing, because he’s scared of you!”

The same guy barks out a laugh, clearly he finds her concern for Jacob silly.

“Bella, let’s go home-” but my plead immediately goes unheard because she throws a fucking right hook for the guys face, son of a bitch.

“Too late now.” Another guy jokes, clearly enjoying the situation.

“Bella, get back!” Sam orders, trying to diffuse the situation as this guy begins to shake.

I grab her arm and we slowly start to retreat for her truck, too scared to turn and take our eyes off of the angry male.

“Bella…” I whisper, unsure of what to do.

“Paul! Calm down now.” The authority in Sam’s voice rings through the backyard, but it’s too late somehow.

The shaking and heavy breathing from Paul leads to a transformation that snatches my breath from my body - a wolf. And not just any wolf, a wolf from the fucking meadow. A wolf that saved us from Laraunt, now standing before us where Paul was.

Where Paul was.

Paul is a wolf. A really big one at that - a really big angry one.

Anger directed at Bella and by association, me. The death grip I have on her fucking arm has to be painful, but the menacing look in his eyes shocks me to my bones.

Bella moves before I do, using my tight grip on her to yank me into action with her as she makes for Jacob’s house.

“Bella! Y/n!” Jake yells, clearing the back porch railing in one leap, sprinting for us.

“Run! Jake, run!” Bella screams back at him, but he charges towards us anyways.

He jumps last minute before he reaches us and I trip trying to follow his path with my eyes before-

Before he turns into a fucking wolf too.

Jacob Black, our best friend, is a wolf? I mean, vampires are definitely a thing, but wolves?

Squaring off with Paul, both the russet-colored wolf and the silver-grey wolf launch for each other. Snapping and snarling as they roll into the woods, my heart painfully thumps in my chest, Jacob.

“Hey, take the girls back to Emily’s place.” Sam orders Embry and the last remaining male, both of them jogging over to us.

“I guess the wolf’s out of the bag.” They joke, ushering us up and towards Bella’s truck.

They’re wolves, Sam’s gaggle of Rez boys are fucking wolves. Jacob is one of them and so is Embry, what about Quil? Is this why they’ve ditched him, ditched us? Wolves can’t be friends with humans? What do I even tell him, or should I tell him anything?

My mind is racing a million miles an hour in the span of seconds with questions I desperately need answers to.

Embry holds open the passenger side door to Bella’s truck with a smile and I walk right past his invitation to climb in the bed with the newly acquainted Jared.

“Y/n, that’s not safe-”

“I’ll be fine.” I don’t even spare a glance at him with my monotone answer, I’m mad at him for how he’s treating Quil.

Jared raises his eyebrows and quirks a grin. “Feisty, I like it.”

Embry huffs as he shuts the door behind Bella and rounds the truck for the driver’s side, “Don’t encourage her, man.”

• March 11th, 2006 • Uley Residence •

Reader

“Hey I think we should go back and see if Jacob’s okay.” Bella rolls down her window as the rest of us hop out of her truck.

“I hope Paul sinks some teeth in him, serves him right.” Jared quips to Embry.

“No way! Jacob’s a natural, you see him phase on the fly? I got five that says Paul doesn’t even touch him.” Embry argues, “C’mon in Bella! We won’t bite.”

“Speak for yourself.” Jared jokes and I shove him as we turn to walk inside.

“Oh hey, about Emily - Sam’s fiancé? Don’t stare, it bugs Sam.” Embry warns both of us before following Jared.

“Why would we stare?” Bella asks and I shrug, just as confused.

“You guys hungry? Like I have to ask.” The female in the kitchen asks the boys, laughing at what must be an inside joke. “Who’s this?” She asks after turning around, glancing between us.

“Bella Swan and Y/n Y/l/n.” Jared answers her.

“Hmm… So, you’re the vampire girl-well, girls.” I instantly admire her easy-going vibe, diving straight in to acknowledge the elephant in the room to get it over with.

“So you’re the wolf girl?” Bella asks in return, accepting her olive branch.

“Guess so,” smiling to herself, she picks up the largest platter I’ve ever seen of muffins, “Well, I’m engaged to one.” Snatching both Embry and Jared’s hands as they reach- “Save some for your brothers! And ladies first, muffin?” It’s comical, the way she mothers them.

“Thank you, Emily.” I smile at her and sit across from Jared, the muffin still warm from the oven.

“Leave it to Jacob to find a way around Sam’s gag order.” Emily scoffs, not surprised.

“Umm, he didn’t… Say anything to us.” Glancing at me, Bella explains.

“That’s a wolf thing, alpha’s orders get obeyed whether we want ‘em to or not. Oh and check it out - we can hear each other’s thoughts.” Embry brags and I gape, this is all fucking wild.

“Would you shut up! These are trade secrets - damnit, these chicks run with vampires!” Jared’s frustration is lighthearted as he admonishes Embry for giving away some of their abilities.

“Can’t really run with vampires,” Emily and I chuckle at the boys not quite catching on, “Because they’re fast.”

“Yeah? Well we’re faster. Freaked out yet?”

“You’re not the first monsters we’ve met.”

“Jake’s right, you’re good with weird.” Sam nods at us, beelining for Emily as soon as he steps in the door. He presses kisses to her lips and then all over her face, causing her to giggle. The obvious display of affection carving out my heart just a little bit more - looking away I set my muffin down, no longer hungry.

Pushing and shoving each other, Paul and Jacob finally show - unhurt and brotherly even. They just beat the shit out of each other and they’re tighter than ever? Boys.

“Sorry.” Paul apologizes and flashes what has to be his signature smile at both of us.

I catch Jacob jerking his head towards the door and Bella follows, probably off to explain this whole entire shit show. I turn my gaze to Embry and level a glare on my former friend, waiting for him to say something.

“You going to let me explain? Or are you going to look at me like you’d like to castrate me until Bella gets back?” Embry stares right back, munching on another muffin.

“Jared?” I look at him sweetly and he grins, “take me home?”

Embry stands so quick and his chair teeters dangerously on two legs for a moment. “Y/n.” His tone is hard, done with this game.

“Embry.” I match him back.

He walks out the front door and it drags me from my own chair, this blowout long overdue.

“You know now and you’re still fucking mad at me?” He turns, leaning against Bella’s truck and folding his arms.

“I don’t even know where to start, Embry!” I yell at him exasperated. “You ditched us, you ditched your longest running best friend-”

“I had no choice!”

“He’s struggling-”

“I’m struggling!” His eyes are wild and his hands have a slight shake, “Cutting everyone out has been the hardest fucking thing I’ve ever done! I can’t tell anyone, can’t see anyone, can’t do what I want to do anymore! I belong to this Reservation, to this pack, to Sam now. He says jump, I ask how high. He says keep your mouth shut, I cut everyone out. It’s how it has to be.”

“Embry, that’s no way to live.” My heart breaks for his situation.

“It’s in my blood and not something I can opt out of, Y/n/n. Besides, they’re my brothers now and they need me as much as I need them.”

I surge forward to hug him, “I’m still mad at you for Quil.”

“I missed you too.” I hear his grin as I hug him tight. “You can’t tell him though.”

Immediately I retreat, “What?”

“It’s a tribe secret, the pack is sacred and must be protected.”

“He wouldn’t done anything to endanger-”

“It doesn’t matter, anyone on the outside has to stay on the outside. It’s not like I don’t want to, he’s my best fucking friend. But he doesn’t have a need-to-know.”

“Embry-”

“I can’t argue with you about this, please drop it.” His wide eyes plead with me and I surrender.

“Okay, okay. Consider it dropped.” I mime like I’m locking my lips closed and I toss the invisible key over my shoulder.

“Good,” throwing an arm over my shoulder, he leads me back inside, “Now you can hang with the big dogs.”

“Okay I’m going to need you to not make stupid jokes about this situation.” But I laugh anyways, I miss this - him.

I smile to myself, happy to finally have people back in my life that I thought were gone for good. I still feel the massive hole in my chest, but the pain is on the back burner for now.

At least until I’m alone again.

Next

Taglist Part 1:

@aoi-targaryen @Min-jianhyung @pbbsl @timelordhunterandmysterysolver @sheerangermany @clearwater-hoe @Blackbluerose666 @ivy-plays @random-human02 @delightfulbluebirdstarlight @steh-lar-uh-nuhs @gaymazinglula @l3ejm @angelfuzzy2 @losa12308 @thekinkpopstandsforkrackheads @flyawayprincess @ropickle @catbusloki @deviat3dsn0wf0x @lovesanimals0000 @unrevived @h-naec @cutesnakemum @zudooms @itsmytimetoodream @stinkii-boii @acoolnight @anothercoffeeblogx @irishblend10 @from-now-on-im-switzerland @kyraslife2 @naolvshan @kiiwiigii @rosedpetal @kiaraandrea @foolsgoldxo @heartfilia01 @azuredgalaxies @geekysimmerthings @graciereads @ramen-girl-2424 @0hmydekiru @creeqvealley @cherriebat @whichwitchisthebitch @dragon-rider-with-a-book @secretfairytailpetscookie @psychobitchsthings

[pianokantzart]

Broken Warp Pipe AU

Based off of a concept by @multicolour-ink and @wiz-witch​ where the warp pipe in Brooklyn breaks down, leaving Mario and Luigi stranded separate dimensions: X.

From there I just went off the rails.

Mario (Brooklyn Side)

Mario has not stopped working toward finding a way to The Mushroom Kingdom since he and Luigi were separated, and has run himself ragged in the process.

He started off trying to discover if there is a working warp pipe somewhere else in the world. After all, if there was one just under their noses in Brooklyn, surely there’s another somewhere! He just needs to search, and search hard.

He’s always on the move, working some side-gigs to stay afloat while spending every second of free time pursuing and studying warp pipes. He eats bad, sleeps bad, and even smokes sometimes when he’s sleep deprived and can’t focus (though he always feels guilty about it afterward. Luigi would NOT approve.)

Mario hates being alone, but spends most of his time alone, because he feels that’s what he deserves at this point. He’s reached so many dead ends he feels like he’s already failed his brother, but refuses to slow down all the same.

When he’s feeling particularly hopeless or lonely, sometimes he talks to nobody as though he’s talking to Luigi. This helps a little. 

He calls his family every couple of months to let them know he’s okay, and to see if there’s any sign that the Brooklyn warp pipe is working again. These phone calls are brief, and he never properly explains where he is or what he’s doing.

 Mario has stolen (and usually returned) many ancient artifacts and documents, and broken into many a location trying to uncover a warp pipe. He hasn’t hurt anyone, but his impatience and determination has earned him a bit of a criminal record in the human world. 

In his travels, Mario found one or two working warp pipes, but they led to weird alternative dimensions not even close to The Mushroom Kingdom. He has done some heroism in these places whenever the situation presents itself (he’s still a good guy), and has been rewarded with helpful information about warp pipes and how they work.

Through knowledge he gleaned from his travels, combined his own advanced skills with traditional plumbing, Mario eventually pieces together how to repair warp pipes, which he uses to fix his own pipe back in Brooklyn.

Luigi (Mushroom Kingdom Side)

When Mario first got trapped in Brooklyn, Luigi desperately tried to fill his brother’s shoes until he returned. When Bowser inevitably reattempted to destroy The Mushroom Kingdom, Luigi tried to channel his brother by taking the tyrant on alone. He was very nearly killed as a result. DK, Toad, and Peach successfully fended off Bowser in the end, but Luigi was left physically and emotionally scarred in a way he has not quite recovered from.

Luigi still does his best to be a hero despite everything, but is only barely functional unless he has someone backing him up. Princess Peach sticks close to him whenever possible, and Toad is ecstatic to have him as a friend and adventuring buddy.

 Luigi has an official place on the Toad Brigade, and is happiest when he’s doing missions with them.

He eventually develops into one of the most formidable heroes in the dimension, especially after he gains the powers of the thunder hand. He rarely gets recognition for this though, because he very much does not behave like the traditional hero, and far prefers the sidekick position. He wouldn’t have it any other way.  

Luigi does not spend a lot of time in his and Mario’s house, save to keep it clean and tidy. He has not moved any of his brothers things, except to keep them dusted. A part of him still holds out hope that he’ll be back one day.

Princess Peach hooked Luigi up with an apprenticeship with Professor E. Gadd during one of his slumps, and he spends most of his nights sleeping over at the lab. The professor is happy to have him around; Luigi keeps the place so neat and organized, and makes the best cup of coffee!

Though they have some wardrobe changes, both Mario and Luigi have their original hats, and are extremely protective of them. 

[mackmp3]

☕how the writers delt with river song

SCREAMING CRYING THROWING UP THEY DID MY GIRL SO DIRTY there are so many. good river song moments. and there are so manythat make me want to tear a strip off steven moffat like every goddamn episode with her they have to make some obnoxious sex joke or some Honey Im Home type shit & i understand this is like. A Moffat Theme & i dont always hate it but goddddd its so reductive like there is so much!!!! that could be done with her character !!!!!!!!!!!!!!! that is overshadowed by haha what if she was sexy like STOPPPPPPPPPPPP.

like silence in the library was a really good character lead in & i like her!!! as a character !!!! even the overly flirtatiousness unfortunately that would work on me but even aside from that. she is a good character let down but the sheer pull-it-out-of-your-ass writing of her backstory. like?? she could regenerate cos she was conceived in the tardis okay thats really cool much weirder stuff has happened when it comes to tardises & making babies but then WE SeE THIS FOR LIKE. ONE OR TWO EPISODES BEFORE THEYRE LIKE WHOOPS THAT DOESNT WORK ACTUALLY COS SHE'S DEAD UHHH SHE BETTER UHMM IDK SAVE TH E DOCTOR OR SOMETHING WHATEVER> COS HER ENTIRE LIFE HAS TO REVOLVE AROUND HIM. HASHTAG MARRIAGE AMIRITE like even the fact that her entire life was shaped around him isnt a Bad Idea it just feels like no one considered the tragic impies (implications) of this, & simultaneously doing amy so dirty in the process as well like??? she loses baby mels & then discovers she was her (never previously mentioned) childhood friend but then she uhhhh dies & turns into this woman you already know and them????? barely eveer mention it again???? holy shit?????????????????????? amy & river is a freaking horror story but one that the writers seem imcapable of dealing with because sOMEONE is too busy making obnoxious jokes about married life

a lot of thsi is specific to the General Vibes of the eleven era stuff as well which was in general so so weird about women & while its not like twelve or any of teh other doctors are expemt from this eleven is a massive dick to people quite a bit & a lot of this falls on river b/c he is seemingly (iirc i havent seen some of this stuff for a while though it Haunts Me) almost careless? with her? like a sort of 'welllllll she's here now so it was all okay in the end :)' sort of attitude ignoring that she went through A Fuckton Of Stuff before she was even a concious human(mostly??) being

even the husbands of river song is tragically guilty of some of that stuff like. she's seen some wild shit & she should have known it was twelve wayyyyyy way way quicker. like i understand why she didnt for plot reasons but she is in fact very intellegent like. she's allowed to show that. unfortunatley sometimes women cant be smart & have their boobs out at that same time I GUESSSSSSSSS

also the nine & river audios from earlier this year? i really like archipelago i listened to that a couple of times & i thought it was really powerful but AGAIN the writers make river So Fucking Obsessed With Romance like. you'd let it go by that point. nine had literally just proved he's the most aro guy in the universe (good for him) and shes stillllllll flirting at him. which. imo she wouldnt do anymore because, shock horror, she does actually like him as a person & values his company and you would think you would be friends wit hthe guy YOU ARE GONG TO MARRY OR WHATEVER. NOT THAT THEIR MARRIAGE WAS PARTICULARLY ROMANTIC EITHERIM GONNA BE SO REAL. obviously sex is important to her & good for her but yikes. it doesnt need to be mentioned so often.

like its the whole 'inherent tragedy of waiting for a time traveller' stuff which i do eat up every time meeting her in silence of the library & knowong that there is so much more there - VERY COMPELLING !! really good character intro augahagaauuaajaaajahhahahahhhh but nooooo her Entire Fucking Goddman Life has to revolve around being manipulated & The Doctor AS WELL AS !! the completely uncalled for ohhhh im a PSYCHOPATH ( <- unfounded & demonstrably untrue lowkey this is saneism right. thats an ableism there yes? ) thing they alllwaysssss have her say like well!! shes not !! theres 'youre talking about commiting a murder'/'no im not, i'm actually commiting a murder' which i like & is funny & she would say that and then theres teh vauge oooohhhhh im so Freaky & I Have A Gun or whatevr like augsugsaihuahahaouoauauoouauoauoauoauuo

also twelve & river had freaky t4t bi4bi aroallo sex after the end of husbands of river song but no actual dw writer is enlightened enough to see that because they have to flatten her into The Doctors Wife & she would have had a far better dynamic with 12 than with 11 (not that i'm biased) i wish they got more time togetherrrrrrrrrrr also you should listen to the bekdel test (diary of river song audio with missy)

[heyitsme1040]

Winter's Soldier [b.b]

summary : When it came to the cold, Bucky hated it. Before the train he tolerated it, understood why people enjoyed winter. But ever since he fell from the train, he despised the cold. Once winter fully set in, he became antsy and didn’t want to be too far from you. It wasn’t until he returned from a hard mission that he finally opened up about his dislike of the cold to you.

pairings : Bucky Barnes x Reader

warnings : None, talk of Bucky losing his arm (if I missed anything please let me know!)

word count : 1,200

AO3 (x)

a/n : Day four of Comfortember is here! The prompt was ‘warmth’. So this one turned into a comfort/angst/comfort sandwich. But still, I really like how this one turned out. You can also tell I’ve mentally lingered on what it would’ve been like for Bucky after falling before being found. This is an idea I’ve lingered on for years, and here’s a glimpse into that thought process. Also I wanted the ending to be really cheesy and fluffy, so sorry if that isn’t your cup of tea. 

You weren’t expecting much when you entered your apartment after running errands. Bucky was gone on a mission, due to return soon, but you weren’t quite sure when. Closing the door behind you, you toed off your shoes by the door before pulling off your coat. As soon as you removed your coat, you were pleasantly surprised by how cozy the apartment was. Walking into the living room, you couldn’t help the startled yelp that escaped you when you realized the pile of blankets on the couch was your boyfriend. 

“Hi doll,” Bucky tiredly greeted. 

“Bucky, hi! When did you get back?” You walked toward him. 

“Just a little bit ago. I was about to call you, I just got out of the shower then turned on the heater. How was your day?” 

As you got closer to him he held his arms out, opening up the cocoon of blankets he’d wrapped himself in. He was quick to tug you into his lap and wrap the both of you back into his blankets. He held you tightly, nuzzling himself against you as close as possible. 

“It was fine. I finished that prototype in the lab today. Then I went to the mall to see what they were putting out for christmas. I know it’s only November, but I don’t want to wait until the last minute again to get gifts for everyone. I feel like everyone knew I’d put off doing it until it was almost too late,” you kissed his cheek.

“Nah, everyone loved your gifts. Steve’s honestly upset that he’s almost worn down every pencil from that sketch kit you chose and bought three more of those sketch books since. Sam wears the watch every day, Tony cherishes the little robot friend you made and keeps it on his workbench, and Nat keeps the knives you’d got customized sharp. There’s no way they have any idea you’d done it all the week before,” Bucky reassures. 

You shrug, pleased they all still enjoyed the things you’d gotten them. “Still, I feel guilty. But how are you? How’d the mission go, I know you had to leave suddenly.”

“The mission itself was successful. However, I hated being in Europe again. I swear it’s just gotten colder since the forties. I hated it, there was so much snow when we got there. It just continued snowing every day too, so there wasn’t any way we could avoid it,” Bucky grumbled. 

You felt Bucky shiver harshly. Despite the cozy temperature he had the apartment at, the four blankets on the two of you, and the fact he was radiating heat it was like he couldn’t be warm enough. You carefully slipped your hand from the cocoon of blankets and stroked his cheek. He turned to kiss your palm quickly before using his own hand to pull yours back into the warmth around the two of you. You couldn’t tell if the reason Bucky was a little tense was due to him feeling cold or if there was something else going on. 

“Yeah, the cold can be pretty bad sometimes. I like the cooler weather at the start of fall, but once it’s winter time I can’t stand it. It’s just too much with all the snow. The way it first lands is mesmerizing, sure, but then it melts into slush before more snow falls. Then everything is just an icy, damp, cold mess,” you admit. 

“It used to not be so bad,” Bucky quietly whispers against you. “The cold was horrible, but the way New York looked and came to life in the winter was breathtaking. I loved the way the snow fell and made everything look so different. And my sister was always so excited when the snow fell. But after everything, I can’t stand the cold nor the snow anymore.”

“Oh Buck, I’m sorry, I didn’t even think about that.”

“It’s alright, doll. At first it wasn’t too bad. I’d just fallen, and landed in this deep pile of snow. The coldness actually made everything numb at first. I tried to move, to sit up, but I couldn’t. That was the moment I first saw my arm wasn’t–” Bucky shook his head as he choked up. “I tried to yell for help, but knew it was useless. Despite this, I shouted until my voice was gone. The cold had moved from providing a numbness to painful. I felt myself slowly slipping into something. I’m not sure if it was just unconsciousness or if those were meant to be my final moments. I’d finally heard the crunching of snow and ice as people approached. I thought that it was Steve, that they’d gotten Zola and he’d somehow found me again. But I was so wrong. I was roughly yanked from the snow before the unconsciousness took over. The next time I woke up was in a lab with Zola over me.”

Bucky harshly blinked, and you could tell he was refusing to let the memory take any more from him. You held onto him tightly, gently promising him you’d never let him go cold again. He slowly relaxed into you. 

“I’m sorry,” he sheepishly breaks the comforting silence. “That’s why I’ve been so weird about the apartment recently. I just, I keep thinking about what it’s like to truly be cold. So now, when the weather is chilly I feel this prickling under my skin. I do everything possible to make sure it isn’t cold here, that you won’t be able to feel the cold. Because it wasn’t bad at first, and now I can’t stand the idea of the cold. It’s just that, I know it isn’t cold in here but I can’t stop from thinking about how cold it is outside. And how easily the cold can just get colder to the point it feels like you’re burning up. And that thought just won’t go away.”

“You don’t need to apologize. I understand, and your feelings are more than valid Buck,” you reassure. “I am more than happy to stay cuddled up with you all winter if that will bring you some comfort.”

Bucky slinks an arm under your knees and supports your back as he stands, “In that case,” he smirks while walking to your shared bed. “I think a change of scenery is due.”

You smile at your sweet boyfriend, the one that so many think is cold. They couldn’t be any more wrong about this sweet, caring, protective man. He laid on the bed, pulling you onto his chest before covering the two of you up again. You bury your face into the warmth of him, lightly rubbing his side in aimless patterns. Doing anything you can think of to remind him he’s far away from the snowy mountains of 1945. Gradually, Bucky’s body grows more and more lax under your touch. His breathing feels the steadiest it’s been since the cold weather came in. 

“You're my warmth,” he tenderly swears. 

“And you’re mine,” you kiss his lips for a long moment. “You don’t have to worry about the cold ever again. Winter’s a battle that you’ve won, Soldier.”

“Yes ma’am,” Bucky rolls his eyes, chuckling at your cheesy declaration.

Author's Note : Reblogs are appreciated, likes are welcome, and if you want to read more of my fics then maybe follow.

©heyitsme1040 If you find this post on any platform under a username different than heyitsme1040 it is not their work.

[badalivie]

[10:20 PM]

“You’re smoking.”

“Yeah. I never quit.” Doyoung pulled out a box of Marlboro Red's from his coat pocket, picking up what seemed to be his 5th cigarette based on the ashtray. He placed the stick between his lips and reached for his zippo lighter. The one you gave him for your 2nd anniversary.

The sound of the end of the cigarette beginning to burn made you roll your eyes. “Why am I not surprised. You haven’t changed at all.”

“You say that like you’ve kept in touch with me these past 9 months” Doyoung's zippo lighter made a satisfying click as he swiped it shut and tossed it back into his pocket. He took a long drag of his cigarette, then exhaled in the opposite direction, remembering how you said you hated the smell of cigarettes.

“We broke up. I wasn’t exactly obliged to.”

“Fair point.” He admitted, taking another drag from his cigarette. He glanced at you for a moment, uneasy with your silence. “You're not gonna nag me? You hated when I smoked."

“Its not my business anymore, Doyoung.”

You were right, he knew that. So why did that sentence stab at his heart the way it did? He bit his lip, holding the smoke in his lungs for a little longer that time. When you were together, he found your nagging at him to quit smoking as probably one of your most annoying habits. Yet now he wanted to desperately to hear you nagging him again. He wanted to hear you care about him.

This meeting place had become bittersweet for the two of you. 2 years ago this is where Doyoung had asked you to be his girlfriend. Now, it's the place where you first met each other after one of the nastiest breakups either of you have ever faced. Doyoung had never felt you so close to him yet so far, but really he only had himself to blame.

“How have you been?” Doyoung's hand flicked the spent ashes into the tray as he spoke.

“Seriously?”

“Can’t I ask?”

Something about him pissed you off, maybe you hadn’t fully moved on. Seeing him still hurt and irritated you, but at least not as much as before. “I’m fine.”

“You seeing someone new?”

“No.” Saying this almost felt like an admission of defeat to you. Like saying "no, you had too much of an effect on me to meet other people". It made you feel weak. Especially when you'd been hearing rumors of Doyoung fucking a new girl practically every day since your breakup.

“I see…”

“You?”

“Nah…”

“Hm, that’s unexpected.”

“What?” Doyoung blinked and turned to face you, grinding his cigarette out on the ashtray in the process.

“You didn’t really seem to care about me all that much so I thought picking up another chick would be a piece of cake for you. Actually, my bad, you picked up multiple chicks. I guess none of them stuck, manwhore.”You hissed

Doyoung’s eyebrows crashed together and his mouth cracked slightly open in disbelief “Are you kidding me right now?” Doyoung raised his voice, heat rising to his head.

“Don’t raise your voice at me! Am I wrong?! You know damn well you've been seeing new girls every night!” You knew you had no right to be upset about that. But that didn't take away how worthless his actions made you feel.

“Y/n! I'm not upset about you calling me a manwhore, I'm upset you're denying the fact that I loved you.“ He wanted to say more. When you broke up he thought of all the things he’d say to you. He’d apologize, plead, explain, everything. But now you were actually infront of him he could barely get any words out. "I love you, Y/n."

You took a deep breath, calming your nerves “Well apparently not enough.”

Doyoung felt his heart sink down to his feet. It wasn’t the truth. He loved you more than himself, more than life itself, but he was still guilty. He was guilty of loving you more than he was willing to admit and lying to himself and you that he didn't. Maybe he was selfish for wanting you back, knowing how much he hurt you, but that didn’t make him want you any less. It shattered him when he lost you —the person who cared about him most in the world.

“Listen, Doyoung. I don’t want to fight you anymore, can we just put this past us?” Your expression softened, taking yet another deep breath. “Officially.”

Doyoung paused for a moment. “I don’t want to fight with you either…" He sighed "Deal.” He pursed his lips and nodded eventually, still unable to say anything. That made you smile. You always found the way he bit his lips cute. You used to tease him and say he looked like a bunny for it. Oh and how he loved it. How you’d cup his cheeks and kiss his nose. How you’d cuddle his head into your chest, how you’d talk to him. He loved everything you did. And he still did. Doyoung froze. God, when was the last time he had made you smile? He found himself mesmerized, unable to look away from your face. He missed your smile, he missed this, he missed you.

For you, that moment lasted only seconds, yet for Doyoung, an eternity had already passed before you pat his arm and turned to leave.

“Hey y/n!” He blurted out, making you stop in your tracks. You turned to face him, and in that moment he could have sworn time stopped. You were beautiful, it was just when he saw you for the first time. He had fallen in love all over again. “For what it's worth, I really did love you. You made me the happiest person I'd been in years. I would have crossed the ocean for you, and I still would. I'm sorry I never found a way to let you know that."

“Thank you for saying that, Doyoung.”

"I'm sorry I didn't say more. Please believe me."

Maybe it was something about the way his eyes turned glassy, or the way he had an expression on his face you've only seen once in your entire time knowing him. But for the first time in a long time, you saw the Doyoung you fell in love with. "I believe you."

"Goodbye, Doyoung."

"Goodbye, Y/n."

(this may or may be part of a draft im currently writing ok bye)

[christinesficrecs]

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

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

Written in the Scars by dr_girlfriend | 15.3K | Explicit

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

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

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

Stiles was still himself. For now.

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

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

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

Someone Else’s Dream by theroguesgambit | 36.6K

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

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

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

Full On Rainstorm by BarlowGirl | 10.5K | Explicit

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Then Stiles shows up.

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

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

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

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

Sense of Home by siny | 53K | Explicit

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

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

Illuminated by ZainClaw | 5K 

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

Start Small, Like Oak Trees by SmallBirds | 24.2K

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

Nitesky by  thepsychicclam | 7K

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

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

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

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

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

[witchofthesouls]

Oh~ I just saw your latest post about cybertronians and human dances and I love it!

As a former ballerina, I loved the admiration from the audience but over time grew to hate the process of ballet dancing. Between the cut-throat competition, the EDs, the amount of toenails that have fallen off and lost, and the fact that I don’t really have much feeling left in my feet due to the 15 years worth of ballet that damaged them.

I still love dancing, I just don’t put it above my peace and health anymore, so I can look back at my ballet career and all the stuff that happened and laugh. Trust me, my story isn’t unique among the thousands of ballet performers out there.

I think that cybertronian would be kind of horrified about the ‘smile behind the pain’ and ‘there is beauty in pain’ aspect of ballet, especially the medics and especially about the falling off toenails 😂

Ohhh, thank you for sharing! I actually had some thoughts about this since my mom is a nurse with patients who were professional dancers and holy hell, the kind of injuries that could happen! Ballet feet, indeed.

First Aid would be absolutely horrified and feeling guilty that he enjoyed the performances when it brings on that much damage. He didn't think such beautiful, effortless movements could do long-term damage. The poor thing will start digging into things to learn about the human body and how to mitigate injuries and fall into a weird spiral of "what?! No... What?!"

(It's Skyfire that needs to drag him out that funk since xenobiology on Cybertron was a massive field with so many specialties without going into different species.)

Ratchet, on the other hand, isn't surprised. He's ancient compared to a lot of the crew. He definitely remembers when professional dancers on Cybertron had to have their latches sanded or permanently removed, so it wouldn't catch the costumes or hurt their partners when their bare frames glided together. Luckily, the tech improved, but there are still common injuries like pulls and stains and breaks, especially without proper warm ups or among those without the trained flexibility on an intense choreography or heavy costumes. They still have long term-health impacts as well.

Professional dancers from Cybertron have issues with hyperflexiblity since armature has a key role in protecting joints and ligaments and cables from overusing and overextending. Very set or old professionals have a knack in popping back their parts without a grimace. A must know trick, especially during a performance. The younger ones have masks during the shows until they can master that necessity because crowds don't want to see dancers in pain. Unless it's part of the script. It can get to the point where it severely impacts their own lines (fuel, coolant, lubricant) and need either invasive corrective surgery or retirement.

They also have issues with their sensory perception. Quite a few feel too contained or claustrophobic with proper plating to the point that they're basically in root-mode all the time, so many high-end tailors leverage that. Or use really specialized plating that tricks the outside eye that it's thick when it really isn't.

Another common injury is protoform burn, especially among the dancers that do aerial performances with rigs since the straps are set deep into their base, and they're in direct line of fire of special effects. This can lead to deformations and scarring, which messes with their sensation. Many dancers see this as a matter of pride in their craft and take to highlighting their scars as a calling card or a showing at performances.

Similar to the gladiators' war paints, dancers would utilize specialized paints upon themselves to create a variety of effects: trailing mirages, bold streaks, color shifts, gradients, fog trails, and so on. Some power couples and cohorts among them coordinate their own scarring and preferred effects to create memorizing and stunning visual masterpieces.

Those of the Artisanal Caste were/are very intimate between the fine line of passion and pain.