#danger noodle of hell

[grimgrinningghost456]

Yes yes yes. @bendy-n-stuff

Testing something

[hells-greatestdad]

Cont'd @hells-sirenqueen

[Text] okay. I'll be snaking my way over

He snickers a bit at his pun, in spite of the heaviness of everything right now. You have to have something to laugh at...

Shape-shifting into his snake form... since he has no arms in this form, it is instead his right fang that is missing.

Slithering across the house. It had been a while since he had used one of his animal forms.... wait. Would the door to the Study be open? He doesn't exactly have arms right now....

Wait. He has magic powers. It'll be fine

But by the time he gets there, he sees the door is open. And so he just slithers on in.

[smidgen-of-hotboy]

@one-joe-spoopy you asked a few days ago about Miasma in my monster hunter au. It has taken me two days, but I've reached a point where I'm content enough to share my thoughts finally (and @esquemeencanta I haven't forgotten you Jove <3)

This is the tale behind Juno losing his original eye to Miasma. Sometime after this encounter he gets a new enchanted magical eye from Ramses O'Flaherty, finds out he's a changeling actually named Jack Takano, and after that shit storm, Juno gouges the magical eye out himself (almost dies trying). The continuation picking up with Hunter Steel and Hunter Glass is in the back of my mind. I've been fried trying to think of how Juno fights a monster he knows next to nothing about, and how he's supposed to do it alone (because ya know- he's stubborn like that)

! Obligatory guts, gore, blood, and violence and angst warning !

Juno works for the Hyperion Monster Hunter Association. He's brought Rita along with him and together they've been doing pretty well. Falco reached out a handful of times but after enough missed calls caught on that Juno wasn't going to come back to HCPD. By then, Juno had made a name for himself as a hunter in Hyperion. He was seeked out for personal jobs often enough that he didn't need to rely on the job postings from the HMHA. Sometimes though he still takes a posting.

There had been a few postings for a series of disruptions in the valleys down south of Hyperion City for a few months. Other Hunters had taken up the jobs and died trying to hunt down whatever monster was out there. Reports from the Cerberus Province were coming in:

Puddles of black gunk have been forming overnight. Anything that steps in it immediately sinks to the bottom. It is unclear if there even is a bottom to these pools.

Vehicles are being broken into and stripped for parts.

Earthquakes are being recorded, rumbling every few hours like clock work. This area is not known for experiencing earthquakes.

Other monsters have been found dead, disembowled and drained of their blood.

Juno takes the latest job request and gets Rita to look over some survey maps taken of the area. She finds that where the monster carcasses are turning up, there was a puddle of gunk there previously. She says she may be able to find out more if Juno can collect a sample. He obliges and returns to her a day later with a small jar full of gunk. His hands smell like burnt tar.

Rita runs a few tests on the jar of gunk and she finds that it has a mostly liquid state, but when disturbed it solidifies. A non-newtonian liquid. Like water mixed with cornstarch. It oozes slowly but seizes up when jostled. Rita makes a comment that she can't stand the smell, "it must taste pretty bad too. Don't know why any monsters would be getting so close to it." Juno unscrews the jar and sticks his finger in it. Rita watches horrified from her computer at their office as Juno proceeds to sniff the gunk (bad idea), and lick it (super disgusting idea).

Juno finds that even though the gunk smells bad, it tastes... okay. Little bit of a burnt wood taste to it, but nothing awful. It's almost sweet. Kind of savory. He goes around asking other hunters at the HMHA to try it and many refuse. The ones that do all come to the same conclusion as him: a little burnt, kind of sweet and savory.

One Hunter boldly takes the jar from Juno and spills it out over a table. Nothing happens at first as it slowly spreads out, but soon enough it's like the gunk has a mind of its own. It begins to almost crawl. It "oozes" across the table. Juno slams the jar back over it, the other hunter tries to frantically scoop it back into one mass. They eventually get it in a cup and back into the glass jar. Rita is not impressed when she hears about their sheer stupidity.

Juno brings the jar home and shows it to Ben. This whole time Ben has been hearing about the ooze from Juno and listening to his calls with Rita, but hasn't actually seen it. He looks at it in the jar and takes a good whiff ("Juno what the hell... you licked this? Gross... will I lick it? Yeah sure- when I'm dead! Put that lid back on or so help me.") Ben asks Juno what happens when it's introduced to heat. He says he isn't sure but according to Rita,

"In theory, it should just solidify. Non-Newtonian fluids cannot withstand extreme heat. The liquidity part evaporates. Just leaving the solid-ity part."

"I'm impressed. You listened to her."

Juno frowns. "I always listen to Rita."

"That's not what I meant. I meant: you listened to her, and you even sound like her now."

"... haha, very funny Benten... do you want to help me find out what happens when you introduce this stuff to fire or not though?"

Ben and Juno are both extremely smart in their own ways. They are also both extremely dumb in the same way. Ben lights the stove, Juno holds the jar with a pair of tongs, and they watch with bated breath as the gunk tries to hop out of the jar as it gets hotter. Eventually it stops moving altogether. And sure enough, when Juno removes it from the stove and lets it cool, it's solid.

Ben asks Juno what he's going to do and Juno simply says he's going on a Hunt.

"You can't be serious? Juno- this is dangerous. You're going to literally be playing with fire."

"I can handle it."

"Juno- I'm serious. Take this seriously."

"I am."

"Then you'll listen to me when I say, it'll make me feel a whole lot better if you take someone with you."

"You know that's not how this works Benten-"

"A Kanagawa hunter would be more than willing to work with you. Hell- what's her name Big Eyes would probably kill to work with you again."

"BENZAITEN! Enough! This is my job alright? I don't tell you how your recitals should be going or what stretches you need to be doing! You don't get to boss me around about how my Hunts go. End of discussion."

"Juno-"

"No. We're done. I'm going to bed, and tomorrow, I'm going on my hunt."

Juno goes to bed without saying goodnight. He wakes up and leaves for the office without eating or saying good morning. Ben calls but he doesn't answer. He calls Rita and Rita relays the message "just tell him I'll be waiting at home and- good luck."

Juno takes with him his pistol, shotgun, a flask of vodka, canisters of gasoline, a box of matches (Ben's brand), and an empty glass milk jar. He drives out to the valleys between HC and the CP to the largest black pool and starts pouring gasoline into and around it. He brought five of them with him. Rita said that his plan was dangerous. ("maybe we can get a hold of Ms. Cassandra and find out if-" "I'm not bringing Cass into this. This is my hunt. I'm doing it my way.") She made him agree that if she didnt hear back from Juno in an hour, she would call Juno, and if he failed to pick up she'd ask for assistance ("I ain't takin no as an answer Mista Steel." "You and Benzaiten worry too much." "Sorry Boss, but you're important to us.")

Juno stands back as he strikes a match and tosses it into the gas. He watches the pool erupt in flame. The ground trembles underneath him. Juno falls backwards. Something rises out of the pool... a monster.

Covered in black gunk, reeking of burnt tar, a monster on fire towers over him. She hisses and squeals. She would be beautiful if half her face wasn't torn off and the other half on fire. Black tentacles rise with her. She has a maw full of razor sharp teeth that go around and around in rings. In that moment, Juno knew he was fucked and would likely die. But if theres one thing being a Steel had prepared him for, its to not go down without a fight.

Juno brings around his shotgun and fires. He lands two bullets that lodge themselves in the monster. She hisses and growls, lunging at him. Her hands are sharp talons. They dig into his shoulders and drag him through the ground. Forgotten is the flask and jar. She rises again towering over him. He takes aim and fires another shot that embeds itself in her shoulder. She howls, a tentacle comes slicing through the air. He rolls out of the way in time and continues rolling as more trail after him.

He remembers the flask when it falls out of his coat. He takes hold of it and unscrews the cap, gulping a mouthful and holding it in his cheeks. With shaking hands he reaches for another match and lights it. He turns and spits the vodka into the flame, lighting a trail of flames that follows a tentacle of black tar. It spreads and the monster catches fire, screeching, leaving Juno time to unholster his pistol. He takes aim and fires off a few more rounds at her, slowly limping his way back where he dropped his shotgun and the milk jar. Finally, one of his bullets lands at her core. The monsters screeching turns to silent wailing.

Her size has shrunk as most of her body has caught fire, the rest is riddled with silver bullets. She clutches two appendages over her chest where the last bullet struck. Frantically trying to dig it out. She slowly tries to slip away as Juno grabs his jar and makes the dumbest decision he could've ever done: he runs towards her. He holsters his pistol, unscrews the jar and keeps the lid in one hand. The monster musters what remaining strength she has as both of the appendages over her chest shoot out. Two things happen at once:

One. Everything comes down to a singular point of pain. Juno feels it as his eye gets scooped out and he just about blacks out.

Two. He successfully scoops the monsters core inside the jar. The lid comes down on it, and monster screams as she shrinks to fit inside her small prison.

Juno has just enough strength left in him to screw the lid on. He blacks out shortly after.

(Ben calls Juno and then calls Rita when he can't reach him. He insist she call him right then and there because "something is wrong. I know it. Rita- listen to me. Call it' call it twin intuition, alright." Intrigued by this Rita calls Juno and when he doesn't answer her she calls in Cassandra.

Cass says she isn't in the mood to save Steel’s sorry ass. Ben takes Rita's comms from her to speak to Cass directly, "You owe me Kanagawa. I'm calling in your favor to me. And if you don't uphold our deal Cassandra, I will make your family's life hell." Rita has always liked Benten. That day she understood what Juno means by "Ben strikes the fear of Benzaiten into you".

Cass rides out to the valleys on her motorbike and finds a giant gaping hole in the ground. Beside it- Juno Steel. Cass turns him over carefully removing the milk jar. She sees his fucked up face and hauls him inside his truck. She tosses his shotgun in the backseat and straps the jar in next to her as she floors it back to Hyperion City. When Ben meets her at the hospital she apologizes and says she still owes Ben his favor, she shouldn't have brushed Rita off so quickly. All Ben does is tell her to leave. Rita promises to give her a call when Juno comes around.)

Juno wakes up in the hospital. He panics unable to see out of one eye. He tries to sit up and falls back groaning and grunting in pain. Something shifts next to him and he turns his head. It's Benzaiten. Bathed in golden light.

"Do you remember what Ma used to say, whenever she found us fighting? Fighting over the Andromeda costumes and Turbo toys?"

"Benten-" Juno wheezes and coughs. Ben turns and fills a glass with water. He carefully hands it over to Juno without a word.

"Ma used to say that we shouldn't fight. She didn't want us to fight because when it came down to it, there was only us in the world. She said- if we wanted to get flattened, we go and lie down in the road, but we aren't supposed to do that to each other." Ben smiles. At least Juno thinks he sees him smile. The sun glares behind him creating the perfect halo. An angel. Juno's angel.

"Ma said that when she was gone, we would have to rely on each other, and that meant we couldn't fight. We need someone else so that when we're not tough enough, they can be." He takes a shaking breath. Juno sips his water and parts his lips. Ben shakes his head and holds a hand up. "Save it, I'm not done.

"Ma said a lot of things before she died. She wanted nothing but the best for us Juno. She wanted us to look out for each other, wanted us to fight the big mean world together, and she wanted us to live. I know you never believed her. I know you don't believe her now- but she was ours. She was- Ma. And you're my brother. Ma is gone. Annie is gone. Oldtown is dying. Sasha left. Mick can hardly take care of himself. And you're all I have left Juno... I need you Juno. I need you to be alive for me because I can't be tough enough for this world. I want you alive... why can't you want that for yourself."

Benzaiten stands from the chair he's in and walks around Junos hospital bed. In proper light Juno can see the bags under his eyes and the tears streaking down his cheeks. He takes the glass from Juno's shaking hands and sets it aside. He pulls Juno against him and half folds his body over, half shields his twin.

The same mouth. Same hands. Juno broke his nose when they were still kids. Ben broke his ankle a year ago. Their noses are different. The way they walk has changed. But the one thing that no one could take away was their matching gaze. Their matching eyes.

(Ben leaves the hospital to visit Rita. She welcomed him inside her home without a second thought. She opens a window and sits down at her breakfast table while Ben takes a cigarette from his pocket and lights it. He takes a long draw and holds the smoke in his lungs for a long moment. He exhales slowly. His tears have long since dried. He thought he cried himself out at Ma's funeral. He was wrong.)

Juno goes back out to the site in the valleys a few weeks later with Cass. She took the jar and kept it to herself. When she saw Juno in the hospital she asked about it. He just said to turn it over to Rita and she'd take care of it from there (to this day Rita still has it in her personal office at home. The monster watches her work. She finds it easier to work when she has something to explain her thought process to and the monster is frequently subjected to that. When she's not home Rita keeps it locked up inside a safe next to emergency bac up shrimp crunchies.)

Cass and Juno explore the gaping hole together. (Cass pulled her weight as a Kanagawa and had the site quarantined off from other hunters and the public). They find a whole underground network of chambers and lab equipment. Journals and notes. Juno flips through a few pages and together this is what they piece together:

Doctor Miasma was a human doctor. She learned about fae medicine and was desperate to get her hands on it by any means possible. In order to get any though she needed to cross over. So. She did. She forcibly opened her own portals and exchanged parts of herself, constantly replacing whatever she lost. Her arms, her legs, half her face. Eventually she gave up the last thing she had to offer: her humanity.

Miasma awoke a monster in the fae wilds. She used intimidation to force them to open a portal for her to cross back home. She created her underground lab and stocked it with soup. She ran experiments on herself. With practice she honed her hunting skills and had her first taste of fae blood.

Shortly thereafter Miasma lost more than her body and humanity. She lost her memories. She lost her name. She forgot her title, forgot her research, and simply became a monster that consumed.

Some part of her must have remembered something though. She broke cars and stole parts from them trying to build a machine to harness magic and open portals. Even after giving up everything, Miasma was still trying to get back to the fae realm

Cass finds the rotting corpses of dead monsters. Their blood not yet drained.

Juno's seen enough and with Cass' help climbs out of the hole.

"Cass- you write the report."

"Huh? Why? This was your Hunt. I don't need the credit or the money."

"And I don't want the attention it's going to bring. Write it. If you have questions call Rita."

(Cass swears this will be the last nice thing she does for Juno. She writes the report and hands it over to the HMHA. The senior hunters of the association are confused why she's handing in the paperwork. She shrugs and tells them "Steel doesn't want to handle the guts." The Kanagawas come in and clean everything out. Cecil does a live stream special walking through "the lab of a monster". Juno reads the newspaper in the kitchen while Ben makes them breakfast. Life carries on.)

[bespectacled-bookwyrm]

The Emerald Crown

A seraph-class solar dragon. Colossal to the point of dwarfing The Storm Incarnate, he can be considered his antithesis in all ways.

Very little is known about The Emerald Crown, but there is some evidence to suggest that he was worshipped at some point in the past. Aside from murals and a few artefacts, very little has survived to prove his worshippers once existed.

Extremely volatile and prone to violence, it is believed that the scarring over his eye was caused by a past altercation with another dragon.

He commands light, and some speculate that a few kingdoms razed by Reshiram was instead his handiwork. The Emerald Crown's reasons for apparently doing so, however, remains unknown.

When adopting a human disguise, he goes by the name of "Ghetsis Harmonia". He can sway entire crowds with the charisma he wields, but there is a strong belief that his goals are far from benevolent. . .

I used Ghetsis’ Black and White outfit for inspiration here. I thought it fitting, especially since I'm going with a “light is not good, dark is not evil” contrast between dragon!Ghetsis and dragon!Colress. I also took some inspiration from peacocks with the feathers.

Thoughts? :)

[j0them0971]

Lil guy. He's just a thirsty danger noodle. He's such a little man.

[ponderingmoonlight]

(y/n) gifting Geto sweets against the bad taste of curses

Pairing: Geto x reader

Word Count: 1,1k

Synopsis: Being used to the fact that nobody seems to care about how awful curses taste, Suguru Geto is absolutely blown away when you start noticing and bringing him candy after each and every mission.

Warnings: (y/n) has a really bubbly personality in this, pure fluff and no Geto going berserk

Thank you anon for your cute request 🤍

„Oh, there you are! I searched everywhere for you!”, you shout cheerfully, your steps hollering down the dark alley.

Suguru would recognize that oh so sweet voice out of a million, his heartbeat picking up in an instant. It’s you. You’re really here.

“What are you doing here, (y/n)?”, he questions softly.

“Well, I don’t know. I had to steal myself away since Yaga-sensei strictly forbid me to run after you again while you’re on a mission. He said something about getting hurt or killed…But that doesn’t stop me! I brought you something salty to eat!”, you announce proudly, stretching out your hand with a little package inside it.

“Did you really come all the way here just to give me that? You don’t have to gift me something to eat. And on top, you don’t need to get yourself in danger for something unimportant like that.”

“Oh, but it’s not unimportant! After all, swallowing those curses doesn’t taste good, right?”

His gaze meets yours. Suguru never talked with anyone about the breath-taking disgusting taste these things left in his mouth for hours, how it takes all his strength to not throw them back up in an instant. After all, no one ever asked him about this. It seems like it has always been enough that he was able to absorb them for everyone else.

“Why would you think that?”

But how…how on earth do you know? Even though Suguru talks with you a lot about everything and everyone, he never talked about this with you. Hell, not even with Satoru.

“That face you make afterwards, scrunching your eyes just the tiniest bit while pressing your lips together. And I mean, what would curses taste like? Certainly not like sugar and candy, right? And I guess it’s like garlic: you’ll have the taste in your mouth for hours! But at least garlic tastes good when used right. Man, I really want some garlic noodles right now… Are you in the mood to grab something to eat? I know you’re quite busy, but-”

Suguru can’t help but stare at you, the foul taste left on his tongue pushed into the background. You with your bubbly personality made of pure gold. You, who came all the way here just to give him something to eat. You, the only person walking on this earth who ever took the time to think about how it must feel to swallow a curse.

Just you.

“It’s like eating a vomit-soaked rag. That’s what they taste like.”

Your doe eyes dart towards him, reflecting nothing but compassion. Before he is able to think straight you’re standing right in front of him, hand pressing the little package into his much larger one.

“No one should have to taste something like this on a regular basis. But maybe…Oh, I have an idea! Let’s make a pact.”

“A pact?”, he repeats in disbelief.

What are you up to? And why is your smile suddenly as bright as the sun?

“A pact! I promise to always have something to eat for you when you tell me about your missions in exchange!”, you announce proudly.

“This doesn’t seem fair to me at all. You don’t have to follow after me just to give me something nice to eat.”

It seems so crazy, almost unbelievable to him that another human being would be willing to sacrifice its precious time for him. Don’t you understand that this promise would mean traveling after him every day and night multiple times? Don’t you understand that you are too good for that? Especially you, the ray of sunshine at Jujutsu High. You, the girl everyone talks about, the girl that even Nanami secretly adores. Why would someone like you take special care of him?

“What isn’t fair is that you have to go through something like this every single time. I really admire you, Suguru. Just the smell of something disgusting makes me gag. Just thinking about eating something that tastes so horrible multiple times a day…You really are a hero! And every hero deserves some sweets! Oh wait…Are you actually into sweets? I can bring you something salty as well.”

“Satoru prefers sweets-“

“But I’m not asking about Satoru”, you interrupt him immediately.

“I’m asking about you.”

He isn’t able to respond. No, Suguru is absolutely captivated by your kind smile and the way you still hold onto his hand, the package in his palm feeling sweaty just by one look into your innocent eyes.

You…you really noticed. And not only that, you really do care about him.

“Go ahead, take a bite! I wonder what you think. I was never really a fan of salty snacks, but these ones are really good”, you explain all too excited.

Hesitantly, he rips open the package and allows himself to get a taste. Oh, this feels like heaven on earth, the saltiness of what seems like crackers hunting away the stinging taste of vomit in his mouth. But what intrigues him the most is you. How you stand in front of him, swaying back and forth in excitement while your eyes follow every move of his mouth, literally glowing in joy.

“These are really good”, he finally confesses.

“Thank you, (y/n). Now everything just tastes good.”

And so it did every following mission. Instead of feeling disgusted by only the sight of a curse, Suguru somehow feel…excitement. Excitement because swallowing a curse means meeting you afterwards. Excitement because he’ll get to taste a new sort of candy or sweets almost every single day. Excitement because slowly but surely, he fell head over heels for your striking sight.

“Those are a speciality around here! I heard some of the others talk about that shop yesterday and thought you might want to try it as well.”

The candy melts on his tongue right away, making him wonder what you taste like while your pretty mouth happily keeps on telling him everything about that shop. It is so easy to get lost in your sight, lost in your talking, last in your personality.

“(y/n).”

He takes a step forward, putting the other piece of candy you handed him over in his pocket. Your eyes widen in the most delicate way, cheeks turning rosy just by one glimpse into the chocolate brown ocean of his eyes.

You always loved the taste of sweets on your tongue, how your nerves began to tingle just the slightest bit. But in this moment, you realized that tasting Suguru Geto was way better than that. He wraps his arms around you gently, pressing his lips against yours ever so slightly. You feel like fainting, flying, giggling. What a precious man he is, how long you imagined how it must feel to kiss your secret crush. But oh, the reality is so much better.

“I love you more than any candy on this planet.”

Tags:  @arehzhera @ploylulla @tzubaki @beatrexworld @kenstarsworld @dazaisdick @hellkaiserinphoenix  @lauv4chuuya @shadowfoxey @starlightanyaaa @sindela @kayleegomez @sunshine7queen @magalimachete @mokoartpost @gatitam @idontknow1123 @creative1writings @sanicsmut  @mynahx3 @sad-darksoul @chilichopsticks @hellkaiserinphoenix @chuyasthighs0 @ynackerman9499 @keepghostly @wxwieeee @lovelyluna1 @froufrousnowman @hidazinie @tomiokathedepresso  @gojosrealwife  @coffeeluvr96 @mahi-tamashi @weebotaku21 @chaoticwinnercupcake @lees-chaotic-brain  @risuola  @sugurulefttesticle @wordskeeper @baku2345 @polarbvnny @ruixrei @bam-bam-bam-bame-blog @lavenderdrxp @localhehecat @alicerhr @kayleegomez @itsmonicabc

[circeyoru]

Unwanted Soul = Requested

[Yandere!Alastor x Owner of his Soul!Reader]

The Request

Part 1 (here) — Part 2 — Part 2.5 (ask) — Part 3  — Part 4 — Part 5 — Part 6 — Part 7 — Part 8 — Part 9 — Part 10 (END)

You weren’t a powerful Overlord nor were you the weaker ones to have their souls owned by other demons to survive in this hellhole. You’re merely capable enough to get by your everyday life. Like always, you’d stay clear from any of ongoing battles or powerful demons that were out and about. Your keen 6th sense to pinpoint potential dangers was always your go-to during your outings

You kind of treated Hell as your paradise to shut-in in your room and read all the comics you want plus watch all the TV shows you want. You were one of the rare demons that get connection to the Earth realm where you can enjoy the guilty pleasures you spend your days doing. Of course, your death was a suicide as you saw no life ahead of you

But you really really should have stayed in that day. It started out as any other day in Hell and you were on your way to the usual supermarkets for the junk food and drink you love. Normally, it was uneventful, until you caught sight of a dying demon, no, ‘wounded’ would be the right word since demons would only demon by angelic blades, even you knew that. Still, the demon was heavily wounded

It must have been a good few minutes since you caught weaker demons attempting to take advantage of the weakened demon as easy prey. You immediately took out your notebook, scribbing a phase before tearing it out and blow on it lightly. The page turned to white sparkles before taking shape of a row of angelic spears around you, it launched at the weak demons before they could do anything to the wounded one

You took went to the wounded demon quickly as your spears faded to nothing after doing its damage. You held his limb hand and closed your eyes, visualizing your cozy apartment and the ground swallowed the two of you up. In the blink of an eye, you were back home, sighing in relief

Not even a moment, you were knocked to the ground and pinned down by your shoulders and thigh. You struggled a bit before you realized it was the wounded demon that was pinning you down with radio dials for eyes

Without thinking, you reached into your coat pocket and took out a piece of paper, slamming it onto his face and blew at it. The paper faded to nothing but sparks then the demon stilled before closing his eyes and slumping forward onto you. Unconscious. But you invited someone you shouldn’t have into your home

This had to be Alastor, the Radio Demon

You grimaced, eying Alastor on top of you sleeping like a harmless deer. You thought of throwing him back out into the streets, but you didn’t exactly have the heart to. You came to the conclusion of healing him as fast as you could then sending him on his merry way! Yes!

Noooo!!! Why is he still here!?!?!?!?!?!?!??????!!!!!

“My dear, you really should be taking more care of your diet. This is hardly filling or healthy for you.” Alastor eyed the cup noodle you were about to open up like you were holding trash “But it’s fast and gets my hunger sated.” You eyed back, “It’s not like I’m feeding you this. I cook for your meals anyways…” You continued roaming around the kitchen, rubbing a fork, and setting a timer for your food. Ignoring the closeness of Alastor. “As long as it doesn’t concern you, it’ll be fine. I’ll treat you better since you just healed up. These are my own indulgence.” “And I appreciate your hospitality, dear, truly, I do. The matter at hand is your consumption!” Alastor grabbed your precious cup noodle lunch away, “I shall take over your meals from now on.”

Yes, you have fully healed Alastor and he’s back to full health. No, you didn’t tell him to stay. In fact, the moment his wounds were all healed, you showed him the open door, waiting for him to leave. He didn’t exactly let you make him leave. He said he was staying to repay your kindness, but all he was doing was inserting him into your afterlife and really making it Hell

At first, he praised your unique power to summon anything you write with a gentle blow, especially the part where you put him to sleep the first time. Then he urged you to make a name for yourself, but you really just want to shut yourself in your room and indulge in your time-wasting hobby. You told him off and shut yourself in your room, but he would just appear through the shadows and apologise, saying he’d leave the matter

When that whole business was done, Alastor got worse. You’re positive some other demons would love to be treated this way, but you’re just weirded out. It started out small, Alastor making meals like he said, shifting your schedule to a healthier one. Then taking care of your needs whenever you are about to do something. Even as simple as getting a glass of water

Then it escalated to touches. A handholding here, maybe he’s lean into you while reading. Or he’ll lay next to you in your own bed. Shift closer to you while on the couch. Stare at you while you were busy reading manga or watching animes and shows. Plus you could feel him staring at you while you sleep from the shadows even though you told him not to

But the most unnerving thing was when you would go restock on your food and other supplies. Alastor being the gentleman would carry and pay for your stuff. That you’re used to and didn’t care since either way, you had your methods. It was what happens during the two of you walking

“Alastor…” You hugged your coat tighter as your lips pressed together tightly from the scene, your eyebrows furrowed from the tense situation you were in. You had just left the shop to get new books and volumes, only to be met with such a sight. “What…” “My darling, your timing is perfect.” Alastor threw away the torn body of what used to be a demon. The street was covered with a layer of thick red and black blood. Hellborns and sinners alike were all brutally ripped away by the fearsome Radio Demon. “These pest dares to look at you wrongly, surely they deserve a good, limb pulling.” He walked over to you with his ever-present smile, offering his clean hand. “Shall we head home, My Doe?” You feel yourself tense as you firmly told him, “Just because they stare at me a little long and spat out rude remarks, it’s not an excuse or reason to torture them like this. I’m… I don’t exactly mind unless they attack.” Alastor grabbed your hand and kissed it, “Dearie, why give them the chance to harm you when I can prevent it? You can name and point fingers, I’ll be your killer.”

Trapped was what you felt at home and anywhere, as long as Alastor was there, you didn’t like it. Those sweet romantic gestures and attention from him that you would only see in your books and shows left a bad taste in your mouth. 

At the 4th year, however, something changed. Alastor sold his soul to you as the ‘last’ act of pure devotion and loyalty to you. Since the contract was all by your rules, you made use of it

Limit Alastor’s powers because it scares you how much he could do and the destruction he could cause. Forbid him from devouring or owning souls because he does it so easily when he thinks you were wronged in any way. And most importantly, forbid him from disobeying your words, whatever they may be, that way, you can finally have peace

How Alastor was still able to be this unnerving, you didn’t know and you didn’t want to know. Somehow, the contract was something like a declaration that the two of you were romantically involved with ecah other? If it made sense. It didn’t, really

Alastor still stayed with you because he had told you a long time ago that his home was destroyed in a brutal battle, hence why you found him that battered. So you offered yours. You did manage to set some firmer ground rules with the contract’s help. Like no entering your room or throwing away your junk food

Though Alastor still plays a big part in your life just because. You had wanted a lover before, but Alastor had proven how bad a relationship could go, and you two didn’t even established anything! You love fiction, fiction is life or afterlife. You can just drown yourself in the world of fiction and never leave

That’s the basis of your power. It’s like summoning through writing and the faint blow from your lips. You have to be aware of the components though, the hardest to summon was definitely the angel spears. It was the day after extermination and a spear was stuck into a demon, you were curious and took it back with you. You studied it and tested it out, knowing its strength and limitations before actually attempting to summon it. Works well enough, since it was easy to study

In the blink of an eye, 7 years had already passed. While Alastor was out on buying new ingredients for your celebration dinner of surviving another extermination, you caught the Princess of Hell and her promotion on the ‘Happy Hotel’. A place that welcomes anyone, a place that gives anyone a chance. It sounds lovely, but you didn’t have the mentality and energy to help out

A foolproof plan came to mind. You could, no, should send Alastor there. He loves entertainment! He wouldn’t be bored there! The hotel is much bigger and there’s more people there for him to hang out with. Plus he would definitely get a room there since he’s going to be staying. Even when he disagrees, because you just know he would rather stay by your side, you can use the contract as a last resort

“My dear!” Alastor greeted the moment he came back from his little shopping. He gave you a peak on the crown of your head when he walked past you, then headed to the table to place the bags of items down. “Did you hear about that ridiculous plan the Princess told in the picture box? Hahaha! It’s sure to fail! No way in any universe would just a silly and childish thing happen! No, sir!” “I want to help her with it, it sounds like a good plan. It’s better than annual exterminations.” You spoke while coming over to check the things Alastor brought. “But you know I’m more of a home person and not the go-out and help-others type.” “Exactly, dearie, we need not care for such fantasy.” Alastor nodded along. “That’s why you’re going in my place.” You stated firmly without blinking or shifting in your spot, at the growing static, you looked up to see Alastor’s eyes turned to radio dial. Very rarely are those directed at you since he swore he’d never do you harm or wish you harm. “You’ll go and help the Princess to make it a success.” Alastor’s eyes shifted back to normal, narrowing as he asked, “Till how long, my dear?” You had to control yourself to hide a smile as you spoke, “For as long as it takes of course. You can’t rush redemption, right? And it’s the first of its kind too.” The static grew again, you knew Alastor was getting annoyed with such a wish (order) from you. “But this would take a long while. I’d be returning to check on you, yes?” “Oh, no. Can’t interrupt your work.” You said, carrying your pile of snacks to your little comfort corner and dropping it with huff, there was a skip in your step as you returned back to the table. “You can’t come back here nor see me when in the service of the Princess. Well, you can see me when I’m the one to approach you or call for you, that’s the only exception.” Alastor would have a frown on by now if it weren’t for his insistence on the power of smiles, “Who would take care of you? Who would watch over you? Who would tend to you? Who would protect you while I’m gone, sweetheart?” You laughed, “Don’t be so dramatic. I can handle myself. It’s just like before I met you,” You didn’t miss the radio crackling like it broke connection, “But this time, I have you as a backup should I need.”

Making Alastor leave you wouldn’t have been possible without the contract and the fact that his soul was yours to control. Very pushy but you had to do what you had to, it was all to regain that quiet and isolated shut-in life you love. Never have you missed the silence in your home and the void of a watchful gaze all around you

You squealed and smiled brightly, “Time to chill and laze around!”

Oh how the Radio Demon was fuming as he made his way to that ratchaed hotel. He shouldn’t have let you know of such a news. If that inferno picture box was broken, then you wouldn’t know. No, you have your phone, so that makes no difference. Maybe it was the fact that that cannibal chef was gone that Charlie had time to promote that idea of hers? 

This would be his first appearance since 7 years ago. He kept his presence gone from the public eye just to hide his connection and fancy towards you. If demons knew you had his soul, who knows what danger you’d be in? He can’t let that happen to you. No, you were the kind soul that saved him and gave him a place to belong. Truly belong

Never had he felt such a sense of comfort around someone so lazy and chill. The fact that you were average but powerful in your right that you humble yourself to blend in with others. To live your afterlife as you please and like without a care in the world. So long as your interest was sated

He just couldn’t help but want to be yours. You deserve it, after all

But now. Now he had to provide his attention and care to some princess’ dream! What joke is this?!

Were you sending him away because he wasn’t strong enough? You limited his powers to see if he could still be as strong as before. Was that the reason? What other demon held your attention? As far as he knew. You have no interest in forming connections. He was the first one you actually cared for and hosted your home for! You don’t even own other souls and you’re strong!

He was your only one. Only!

In front of the hotel, he knocked rhythmically, waiting patiently for the door to be opened and for him to introduce himself. He’ll show you. “Hel—” The door closed shut in his face before it opened again, “-lo!”

His ears twitched as he heard the ruckus inside. These souls don’t deserve your time and attention spent on them, he’ll deal with the problem like always and return to your side. He’ll show you just how powerful and cruel he is and can be

The door opened again and he introduced himself with his plan in mind. “Alastor! Pleasure to be meeting you, princess. Quite a pleasure!”

Note: I really really didn't mean to do this so long... I could have put it into 2 parts, but I was too lazy to. There was actually some more I wanna add, but then it will be a literal essay. Anyways~ How you like this one?

Circe Y.

Other Works: MASTERLIST

Taglist:

@aconfusedwonderland

@crowleysthings

@donustellaron

[unsteddie]

A little thing I was noodling earlier.

Steve becomes a cop because Hopper basically saw a lost party boy and made him a personal project. El was the chosen one of a cult they busted together and Hopper adopted her.

Steve leaves the force to become a PI because he can't stomach the system, he's so close to convincing Hopper to join him.

Remnants of the cult hire a gang to get her back. Eddie, a low level dealer for the gang, is their in after she's taken. It's a hard sell but between a kid being in danger and Steves pretty face he agrees.

Eddie's a classic bad decision but Steve is so gone on him. Insert that please please please song.

Idk the plan yet but it goes awry, and Eddie ends up beat to hell, but he's the one who got El out.

Hopper and Steve think they failed and possibly lost them both forever. They go back to the safe house to lick their wounds and probably make some suicidal plan for vengeance, but Eddie's there, with El playing the GameCube in their shitty little hide out. They're both beat up and dirty, but there's pizza, one completely demolished and one untouched.

Eddie doesn't even give them the chance to adjust he just taps El excitedly and says “do the thing!”

She turns to them and solemnly says “fuck the police” and Eddie fucking loses it.

[naughtynoodle056]

Okay fine I'll say it. Being told by a non black artist that I need to "lean into emphasizing the ethnic features of my characters more" in my art when they themselves literally don't even draw black people with genuine Afrocentric features, IF at all in their art is actually my villain origin story y'all. Like draw all the white or otherwise pale people in your kink art you want, I'm not your mom, but maybe don't tell the black artist that actually draws black people regularly in their art unlike YOU that they're not doing enough and then act like your criticism was fair lol IDK!!!

Y'all ever feel bitter as hell about some shit that happened literally months ago at this point but you can't talk about it really because the Optics™ are likely gonna make you look bad even if you and others feel like you were the one done dirty in the situation

[zuffer-weird-girl]

To say he was a dangerous, hatred and feasome man was a understandment... but no one asides from him and one person knew his dark secret.

Which was quite embarrassing to be honest, bit alas it was the true.

The thing is, he was scared of you sometimes.

Yes, you. The one who managed to cage his heart and make his mysophobic ass feel something asides from disgust for once in his damm life.

Now, to give contest to it, let's roll back a bit in time.

In the start of the relationship, you didn't know why on God's name you decided to steal a bite out of Kai's food.

But you did. And the look he gave you was not at all pleasant. In contrary, he threatened you. Yes, threatened to kill you. And you laughed.

He knew you were crazy but not THAT crazy.

Either way, you still managed to steal some bites out of his food every now or then and he kinda got used to it... well, sorta.

But the funny thing is that he is a VERY picky eater, so not only he didn't do the same thing to you because he was disgusted by it or because of his hygiene habits, is also because he genuily didn't liked some things you eat it.

Rarely he was interested on seeing what you were eating... rarely, but not impossible. After all you knew how to cook and he genuily liked some of your meals.

Although, one time, at dinner, you were craving some spicy noodles, so you got on the job of making it.

In your mind, your boyfriend was working, so you only made a portion for one.

While making it, even with the amount of spice on it, while taste testing, you frowned, not quite achieving the spicy sensation you wanted, so to make it better you decided to add a bit of spicy paprika and pepper sauce.

You finally achieved your goal and was pouring on a bowl to eat while watching something on TV until you jumped at the sound of the sliding door opening.

"Hi honey!" You gleamed in happiness at seeing his face while he only nodded "I thought you were going to work late today? Did something happen?"

"Not quite. Just miracously the old man decided that he could do some of that paperwork and talk with the other yakusa boss" he mumbled nonchalantly while taking off his mask with a sigh.

"I think it was because he didn't wanted you to death threaten his work friend."you snickered while he dead panned at you. "Did you eat anything asides from lunch earlier?"

"No. It was that or risking my health on accepting a tuna sandwich from rappa." He shivered with a face that screamed disgust and repulse "Please let's not talk about that."

You laughed a bit while getting some pans out

"Alright, want me to make something for you?"

"I honestly just want something light and just go to bed. This will do." He pick it up the same bowl you were about to eat.

It sounded out of character of him to simply pick anything to eat? Yes, but here is the thing. Kai loved you, so, he trusted you. He knew you were careful around the kicthen and whatever you cooked it was safe to eat.

He thought.

You let out a confused sound at his words until you looked a bit late to see your boyfriend picking some hashis and picking on it.

"Kai wait-!"

Too late. He eat it.

You saw everything. To the confused hum he let out, to his pale face getting red as a pepper, his golden eyes starting to tear up and even a bit of snot to drop from his nose... he almost sounded like a cartoon character that was about to let steam out of his ears.

He immediately dropped the bowl on the table to get water.

You didn't had time to tell him it would only make it worse.

He was panting and sweating like he had ran a marathon curses leaving his lips as you quickly got him a glass of milk and handed it to him which he gulped down like he was a starving man with a glass of water on the desert.

"What. The. Hell. Was that?" He breathed each word out angrily after he got himself together.

"Spicy noodles." You mumbled while waving a paper at his face "That bowl was for me, you fowl."

Usually he would glare at you for this, but this time you saw a look of pure horror on his face.

"You're actually telling me you were about to eat that cursed thing that looked like it came from the deepest parts of hell?"

You blinked before grabbing the bowl and simply eating with ease a mouthful of the noodles before a sad hum left you.

"What?" He muttered, about to get you a glass like you did to him.

"Is not spicy enough..." you muttered sadly.

Kai dropped the glass on the ground out of shock.

In resume. For the next couple of days you had to hear a mouthful of your boyfriends complains about how your spice tolerance shouldn't be normal, that you needed to check on that. His disbelief was clear.

But also his fear about learning the fact that his sweet angel could eat that cursed thing.

[777bae]

SPICY MACKLIN CELEBRINI

Summary :: A spicy noodle challenge goes horribly wrong when you and Macklin underestimate the heat. He laughs at your suffering—until karma quickly hits. Cue panicked water chugging, ice cube hoarding, and a fiery regret neither of you will forget.

Notes :: Came up with this idea after trying some spicy pot noodles with my friends and all of us literally DYING

Warnings :: reactions to extreme spice

Word count :: 1.2k

The moment you placed the ominous, bright red packet of Buldak noodles onto the kitchen counter, Macklin eyed it with the mix of amusement and apprehension usually reserved for people watching a horror movie, knowing something bad was about to happen but unable to look away.

“You sure you can handle this?” he asked, crossing his arms over his broad chest. His lips curled into a teasing smirk, his dark eyes filled with mischief.

“Oh, please,” you scoffed, rolling your eyes as you reached up to grab a pot from the cabinet. “It’s just noodles. How bad can it be?”

Macklin let out a skeptical hum, shaking his head. “I don’t know… I’ve seen some people lose their minds over this stuff.”

You shot him a look as you filled the pot with water and placed it on the stove. “I’m not ‘some people.’ I have a respectable spice tolerance, okay?”

Macklin didn’t even bother hiding his grin as he grabbed his phone, unlocking it with a quick swipe before positioning it against a stack of cookbooks on the table. “Yeah, yeah, sure. But if—and I mean when—you start crying, I wanna make sure we capture it in 4K.”

You glared at him playfully as he adjusted the angle, making sure the camera had both of you fully in frame.

“If we’re gonna do this, we might as well document it,” he said with a grin, pressing record.

The water in the pot reached a rolling boil, and you tore open the noodle packet, dumping the tightly wound coils into the bubbling water. As they softened and unraveled, you pulled out the sauce packet—thick, dark red, and positively menacing.

Macklin whistled low under his breath. “That looks like something a cartoon villain would drink for breakfast.”

You ignored him as you cut open the packet and squeezed every last drop into the pot, stirring the noodles until they were thoroughly coated in the fiery liquid. Almost immediately, the spicy fumes hit your nose, making your eyes sting slightly.

You blinked. “Okay, wow, this smells kinda… dangerous.”

Macklin leaned in for a whiff and recoiled so fast he nearly knocked over the phone. “That is not normal.”

“It’s fine,” you assured him, waving off his concern as you grabbed two bowls. “We got this.”

Famous last words.

Once the noodles were plated, you both took a seat at the table, chopsticks in hand, bowls still steaming like they had been cooked in the depths of hell. The little red light on the camera blinked steadily, recording every moment for posterity—and, more likely, for your eventual humiliation.

“Alright,” Macklin said, lifting his chopsticks and pointing them at you. “No wimping out. We eat at the same time.”

“Deal,” you agreed, mirroring his stance.

With synchronized determination, you both lifted a hefty bite to your mouths, the glossy red noodles glistening under the kitchen lights.

At first, it was fine. More than fine, actually.

The sauce was rich, packed with flavor—a little smoky, a little sweet, and pleasantly warm on your tongue. The noodles had a great texture, chewy and satisfying.

“Oh, this is actually really good,” you said, chewing happily.

Macklin nodded, swallowing his bite with ease. “Yeah, I don’t know why people freak out so much about—”

And then it hit.

It started as a slow burn, like a tiny ember sparking to life at the back of your throat. Then, within seconds, that ember grew into an uncontrollable wildfire, spreading rapidly across your tongue, up your sinuses, and down your throat.

Your breath caught instantly. Your eyes widened. Your lips tingled.

It was as if you had swallowed molten lava, and it was now making itself at home in every corner of your mouth.

Your fingers twitched.

Your whole body suddenly felt too warm.

You dropped your chopsticks onto the table with a clatter. “Oh my God.”

Across from you, Macklin let out a loud, exaggerated cackle, his whole face lighting up with amusement. “Oh, come on! No way! You’re already struggling?”

You frantically flapped your hands in front of your face, as if that would somehow cool down the inferno inside your mouth. Your tongue felt like it was pulsing. Was that normal? Probably not.

“This is—this is a mistake—” you wheezed.

Macklin leaned back in his chair, shaking his head in mock disappointment. “I knew it. I knew you wouldn’t be able to handle it. Look at you! You’re literally sweating.”

“I am not sweating,” you shot back, even though, yes, your forehead was beginning to glisten suspiciously. “It’s just—you wouldn’t understand, your taste buds are probably dead from all the disgusting hockey locker room food you eat.”

Macklin let out an obnoxiously loud, exaggerated laugh, the kind that made you want to reach across the table and shove his noodles straight into his smug mouth. “Excuses, excuses. Face it, babe, you’re weak.”

But then—mid-laugh—his face changed.

The amusement in his eyes flickered out like a candle in the wind. His expression twisted from smug satisfaction into pure, unfiltered panic.

Midway through inhaling, he suddenly jerked forward, his chest convulsing as his air supply betrayed him.

“Oh—oh no—”

You barely had time to register his distress before he made a strangled noise, his mouth falling open in sheer horror. His hands flew to his throat as if he were physically trying to claw the heat out of his body.

“IH-HOH MY GOD—”

You wheezed out a laugh, though it immediately turned into a violent cough as the spice continued to set your throat ablaze. Macklin, meanwhile, had fully lost control. He shoved his chair back so suddenly that it nearly toppled over, his hands flying to his temples as he began pacing around the kitchen like a man who had just seen his life flash before his eyes.

“WHAT IS THIS?!” he choked out, his voice an entire three octaves higher than normal.

You weakly slapped the table, struggling to breathe through the pain and laughter. “I—it’s—” You couldn’t even get words out.

Macklin stumbled towards the table edge like a man seeking salvation. “WATER.”

“WATER,” you echoed desperately.

At the exact same moment, you both lunged forward, snatching your glasses off the table and chugging the water down like it was the only thing keeping you from ascending into another plane of existence. The cold liquid hit your tongue, soothing it for one glorious second—

And then the fire came back angrier.

Macklin gasped so loudly you were pretty sure the neighbors would be concerned. “WHY IS IT GETTING WORSE?!”

“I—I think it’s—” You coughed, voice hoarse. “The water spreads the spice—”

Macklin looked at you with the purest expression of betrayal. “We’ve made a terrible mistake.”

Still gasping, you both staggered to the fridge, yanking it open like a pair of starving survivors raiding a supply drop. Macklin grabbed an ice cube tray and immediately shoved a cube into his mouth. You followed suit, sighing in relief as the cold numbed the burning.

For a moment, there was silence.

Then, Macklin started laughing—a deep, breathless, borderline unhinged kind of laugh.

“I can’t believe we did that,” he wheezed.

You let out a strangled chuckle. “We’re idiots.”

He nodded. “Biggest idiots.”

Your eyes flickered to the phone still recording on the table.

Macklin narrowed his eyes. “We are never showing this to anyone.”

You grinned. “Oh, I don’t know… your teammates might get a kick out of it.”

He pointed at you. “If this ends up in the group chat, I will get revenge.”

You simply smirked, already planning your next move.

But for now? You were just happy to be alive.

[lloydskywalkers]

drywall

went to go work on raising hell and ended up missing Skylor, so!! I will always have so many emotions about s8/9 and the aftermath of it, here's another gallon of them.

Two months after they’ve taken back the city and the street lights are finally starting to work again, Lloyd shows up at the restaurant an hour past closing time, sporting a spectacular bruise and enough blood across his gi to make the Ninjago City Blood Drive team’s day. 

“Hi, Sky.” Lloyd waltzes — or attempts to, it’s more of a stumbling collapse — right in as if nothing’s amiss in the slightest. “Sorry, I’m, uh. Was in the neighborhood and I wasn’ sure…where else t’ go.”

Skylor, still frozen over a stained tabletop with her dishtowel in hand, stares at him. 

All things considered, she should be fully prepared for something like this. It should practically be in her restaurant’s training manual, that at some point you’ll end up confronted with a bloody, half-dead ninja in your door. But given how slow the past few weeks have been, coupled with the sheer exhaustion of dealing with the lunch rush and the dinner rush and the late-night somewhat-inebriated people rush, her guard is apparently down enough to leave her reacting with a simple, useless, “Oh god.”

“Tha’s my grandfather,” Lloyd says. There’s blood at the corner of his mouth — coupled with the bruising, Skylor thinks (hopes) it’s simply from split skin or a bitten cheek, instead of crippling internal bleeding. 

Crippling internal bleeding is enough of a concern to finally spur her into action, dropping her towel and rushing over to help Lloyd finish stumbling through the door. She spares a moment of thanks, that there’s even a door at all — repairs in the city have been slow, since Harumi’s brief reign of terror, and the insurance provider is still holding out on her. 

But the door was a good thing to prioritize, she thinks, bolting it firmly behind them. 

“Sorry, again,” Lloyd murmurs. His jaw is working in the tight way it does when he’s biting back pain, his bottom lip bruised and bleeding. Skylor’s stomach twists. 

You’d think, after all she’s been through, she’d be more accustomed to seeing the people she cares about in pain. That she’d be desensitized enough, to fight back the aching nausea and the gnawing desire to look away. 

Or maybe she’s just a coward. That would track, she thinks. 

“Shush,” she says instead, maneuvering Lloyd further into one of the nicer booths, careful of the blood that’s…everywhere. “What did you do to yourself this time, huh?”

“I didn’t do anything,” Lloyd grumbles, his voice steadier now that he’s sitting down. Unfortunately, he’s only paler under the yellowy restaurant lights, and the blood looks about ten times worse. “I just…slipped. A bit.”

Slipped. Skylor could smack him, if he wasn’t already hurt. 

“Lemme see, then.” She bends down to where she can tug the folds of his gi back, trying to trace the blood to a source. She finally finds it — an ugly wound in his left shoulder, several long gashes across his forearm. A knife, maybe. Possibly a sword, but it looks close-up and quick. It’d need to have been quick, for whoever was wielding it to land this many hits. 

Or Lloyd would have to be sloppy. 

Lloyd gives a stifled, shuddery exhale, a dangerous preamble to tears. Skylor pauses, just for a moment, and deliberates. 

She’s got Nya’s number, carefully keyed into her phone ever since she and Kai started visiting the noodle house. There’s no doubt in her mind that she’d want to know about this — and there’s less doubt that Kai would want to know. if anything, she’s surprised he hasn’t burst through the restaurant doors already, summoned by whatever sixth sense he has that goes off when Lloyd’s in danger. 

But Skylor also knows there’s got to be a reason that Lloyd came here, despite his claims. Just as there’s probably a reason he didn’t call Kai or Nya, or any of the others. 

And perhaps she feels just a little proud, that Lloyd’s chosen her to come to. 

It’s quickly lost in the blood that coats her hands as she begins patching the wound in his shoulder, but the feeling’s there nonetheless. 

It’s a nice feeling, being relied on. Being trusted. 

“Who got you this bad?”

She speaks up mostly to break the quiet. Lloyd isn’t quite like Kai, who likes talking simply to fill a space, but she knows he isn’t fond of silence, either. It’s one of the things they share in common. 

“No one.” Lloyd sucks in a breath as she draws the bandage tight across his shoulder, wrapping it beneath his arm and back over. His eyes close briefly as she ties it off, forehead scrunching up, before he lets out another shuddery exhale. “Some guy, uh — guy on the way home, near the subway. I had answered a call earlier, and I guess — ow, hey—” 

“Sorry,” Skylor winces, as she finishes dumping antiseptic across the slashes on his arm. “It hurts less if you aren’t expecting it.”

“That’s a lie,” Lloyd says, pointedly. 

She shrugs. “So, random subway mugger?”

Lloyd looks away, his cheeks darkening. It’s a relief, to see any color in his face at all. “Sort of.”

He leaves it at that, lapsing back into silence. Skylor looks down, focusing on the butterfly stitches she’s placing across his arm. Were it anyone else, she’d have panicked for actual stitches, but Lloyd heals with an uncanny quickness. She remembers Nya complaining about it, back during the Resistance — how Lloyd threw a fit when his skin healed over the stitches, and they’d had to cut him open all over again. 

She’d probably throw a fit of her own, to be fair. 

“Well, if you see him,” she says, reaching for the roll of bandages. “Point him out. I could use a punching bag.”

Lloyd’s lips quirk, a ghost of a smile. 

“Thank you.”

It’s quiet enough she might’ve missed it, if they were any further apart. Skylor doesn’t miss the meaning, either. She simply shakes her head, wrapping another layer around his arm. 

“I’m just glad you came to someone,” she says. “Instead of half-assing it yourself.”

Lloyd’s fingers twitch. “I wouldn’t do that.”

“Uh-huh.”

She can’t pretend she doesn’t understand. Her childhood is filled with fun little memories of patching herself together, hiding wounds from Clouse or her father in an attempt to convince them she was better than she was.

Not that the people Lloyd is hiding from are anything remotely like her father, of course, but there’s an overlap between people you fear and people you love, and trying to convince them you’re stronger than you are. 

“That should do it,” she nods to herself, surveying her work. She feels unusually proud of herself — Skylor’s never really stayed with a team long enough to have many chances to patch people up. It’s rarer that people are so open to her touching them, once they’ve learned what her power is. The ninja are an exceedingly kind exception, but it still makes her feel warm, being given this kind of trust. 

She glances up, eyeing her patient. Lloyd’s still pale, but it’s far better than the ashy color from earlier anymore. “Anywhere else?”

“No.” Lloyd stares at the strip of bandages across his arms, shoulders hunched over on himself.

“I have Nya on speed dial, you know—”

“Its just a few scrapes,” Lloyd rolls his eyes. “It’s nothing.”

Skylor sighs. “Lemme see.”

Lloyd grumbles, but he lets her grab his arm again, wincing as she dabs antiseptic over the smaller cuts. There’s nothing serious — just a few nicks and scratches, the kind you get from eating the ground mid-fight. He’s got one uglier scrape, but it’s about as nasty as a skinned knee, and easily eclipsed by the scar it bleeds through. 

Her fingers falter. She knows this scar — she was there when Kai struggled to patch the wound it once was, back on her father’s island. It’s an ugly, jagged scar, a testament to how Kai’s hands had shook as he’d tried to be gentle. 

In hindsight, it had been a terrible moment. Kai wasn’t sure if Lloyd had picked up the wound from the underground tunnels, Chen’s cultists, or his own brief slip into the madness of the staff. Lloyd wouldn’t say where it was from, even if either of them had been much for talking. And Skylor had been an awkward, purple-scaled fixture next to them, holding the medical kit while the others planned how to kill her father. 

And yet, it was the lightest she’d ever felt. 

Skylor bites her lip. 

She’s never told Lloyd, what exactly he’d meant to her. He likely has no idea, what he’d represented when she’d first met him. 

The son of one of Ninjago’s greatest villains — and people loved him. 

Kai loved him. 

If Lloyd could overcome the hurdle of his parentage and choose to live the way he wanted, if people could look past the dark stain of his legacy and love him anyways, then maybe—

He’d been hope, when she needed it most. And Kai had lived up to that hope, taking Skylor’s half-formed, frail dream and fueling it into a blaze.

Her eyes close, briefly, and she shivers. 

“Are you okay?”

Blinking her eyes back open, she comes face to face with Lloyd’s concerned expression. She shakes her head, looking away. 

“I’m fine, I’m fine.” Embarrassment pulls at her. “Just a bit of…aftershocks. You know.”

Lloyd frowns, clearly not knowing. “Aftershocks,” he repeats. “From…”

His eyes go wide, only for his expression to immediately crumple. “Oh.”

Skylor waves her hands. “It’s not bad,” she reassures him. “I can barely feel him — his power — anymore. Just pins and needles in my hands sometimes, that’s all. Totally…totally normal.”

She hopes. Garmadon’s power had burned, in the way bitter cold feels against your skin, so a bit of numbness is pretty decent tradeoff, if she says so herself. 

Lloyd looks down, expression shadowed and hidden. Skylor could curse herself — she knows better, than to bring up—

“Here.” Lloyd’s suddenly holding his hand out, looking at her earnestly. It’s an almost childish expression of sincerity, one that makes him look much younger — a little more like the Lloyd she met on her father’s island, who beamed when his father ruffled his hair. 

Her chest aches fiercely, and Skylor holds out her hand before she can hesitate. Lloyd takes it carefully in his own, and she watches in fascination as the low shimmer of green engulfs her fingers. Lloyd’s power is as gentle as he is — nothing like the ravaging purple storm that was his father’s. 

“Oh,” she says. “That’s nice.”

Lloyd makes a humming noise. “I’ve been practicing. H-his power doesn’t get along with mine, that much. So it kinda…makes room. For whoever’s stronger, at the moment.”

Skylor fights back a shudder. Realistically, she knows she shouldn’t feel ashamed, that Garmadon overpowered her — he’s Garmadon. The reminder of how his power felt still stings, though. 

It’s a reassurance, that Lloyd’s power is stronger now. His element, if you can even call it that, is probably the one she’s the least familiar with — she’s never tried to copy Lloyd’s power. She isn’t entirely sure if she could, or if she should. Dipping into Garmadon’s power was dangerous enough. Skylor isn’t stupid enough to pretend she has the willpower to meddle with the power of the FSM’s family much more than that. 

“It feels like cheating, kinda,” she finally says. “That fighting fuels his power. How are you supposed to fight back?”

Lloyd shrugs, letting her hand go. “You don’t. You get really good at dodging.”

Skylor leans forward, propping her chin up in her palms. “That’s stupid.”

“Well,” Lloyd’s lips twitch, just the slightest bit. “That’s Garmadon, so.”

His expression immediately fractures, and Skylor can spot the battle in his eyes as he tries to grasp for composure. Her teeth worry at her lip.

She should really call Nya, now. Or try to track down Kai’s number. Or anyone else — it’s nearly two hours past closing, the kitchen’s still a mess, and Lloyd’s blood is all over her dishrags. Lloyd himself is hardly in better shape, the ghostly pale of his skin reminding her horribly of when she first saved them from the Sons of Garmadon, and Skylor is—

Not enough. 

She ought to know that, by now.

But the fact still stands, that Lloyd came to her. A part of her clings to that, and another selfish, awful part of her, the part that festered on her father’s island for so many years, the part that still flinches beneath the weight of her last name — well. 

Misery loves company, is probably the best way to put it. 

“I should…I should probably get going,” Lloyd says, uncertainly. He doesn’t make any move to get up, though, still small and weary where he’s hunched up in her booth. 

Skylor stares at him, and thinks of sitting for hours on the edge of her father’s island, staring at the sun on the water until her eyes ached. 

“Hey,” she says, a bit breathless, twisting her fingers together. “Wanna go skip rocks?”

Quite fairly, Lloyd stares at her like she’s lost her mind. 

They end up on the rickety end of one of Ninjago City’s abandoned docks anyways, a mismatched selection of somewhat flat rocks spilling out of a Chen’s to-go bag. Lloyd’s left arm is tied up in a mangled sort of sling they fashioned from Skylor’s old sweatshirt, leaving him to turn a rock over in his right hand awkwardly. 

“So, funny thing,” he says. “I don’t, uh. I’m not very good at this.”

“That’s okay,” Skylor says, sifting through the rocks they’ve gathered. “I’m not, either.”

“Yeah?” Lloyd sounds hopeful. “I mean, you at least know the trick to it, right?”

“I don’t,” she shrugs. “I’ve never…I’ve never skipped rocks before.”

Lloyd stares at her. 

“It’s not that weird,” she huffs, fighting back the urge to hide. “I mean, I never really had the chance, but I aways thought — I grew up near the ocean, and all these lakes, so I always thought it’d be fun to, y’know, skip rocks, since I didn’t really have…anyone else, to…”

The rest of the sentence is about to turn even more humiliating, so it’s a relief when Lloyd interrupts her. 

“I haven’t either.” 

He immediately flushes. “That’s why I’m not good at it.’Cause I’ve never actually skipped rocks.” 

“Oh.” Skylor looks at their bag, then back up at him. “Well, cool. We’ll both suck, then.”

“How hard can it be, anyways?” Lloyd says, sorting through their rocks. “You just find a flat one, right?”

“Yeah,” Skylor says. “Then you sort of just, frisbee it. I think.”

“Hm.”

“You haven’t thrown a frisbee either, have you.”

“Oh, like you have.”

Skylor presses her lips together, snorting. “Was wondering when your snark was gonna show back up.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Do you not remember half the stuff that came out of your mouth, back at the tournament?”

“You would’ve been out of your mind too, if you had to herd the guys around then — also, bold words coming from you, ooh, how dare you call me a traitor, even though it’s totally dead-on—”

“That wasn’t even close to what I said, and also—” Skylor snatches a smooth rock before Lloyd can, hefting it up. “It’s not like I was gonna admit to you all I was a traitor. That defeats the whole purpose of betraying. Lying my way out of a corner was the smart choice.”

“You’d be surprised,” Lloyd mutters, as Skylor flings her rock across the water.

They both watch as it splashes sadly, sinking instantly like, well. A rock. 

“Okay,” Skylor cringes. “That was a warm-up.”

Several warm-ups later, neither of them have made any progress whatsoever, save to torment whatever fish are hanging out on this side of Ninjago City’s harbor with relentless rock barrages. 

“This is ridiculous,” Lloyd huffs, watching as his rock all but torpedoes into the water. “What’s wrong with us, that we can’t get one stupid rock to skip?”

“Maybe it’s in the wrist?” Skylor flexes her hand, angling it one way then another. She winds ups, throws the rock out, and — nope. 

“I think we’re getting worse,” Lloyd remarks as Skylor sputters, wiping the seawater that splashed up from her face. 

She can’t help but agree. They’re down to a few rocks left, and neither of them have made any progress, much less skipped a single rock. At some point, they give up altogether, seeing who can throw their rock out the furthest instead. 

“This one’s going…” Lloyd raises his arm, closing one eye and squinting as he angles higher. He finally pauses with his hand pointing upwards toward Ninjago City. “Right through that weird oval thing on Borg Tower.” 

“Don’t hit it too hard,” Skylor says. “They just got it back up last week.”

“I’m not hitting it, it’s going through it, weren’t you listening?”

“To you? Nah. I’ve heard you suck at public speaking.”

“Wow, after you forced me into the live broadcast and everything—”

As if to emphasize his distress, Lloyd takes a running start, hurling the rock forward. They watch as it arcs across the skyline, before plummeting somewhere in the harbor. 

“So close,” Skylor murmurs. 

Lloyd flops on the ground with a dull thump, legs sprawling in front of him as he leans back on his elbows. Skylor’s makeshift sling isn’t doing much at all anymore, though it looks like he doesn’t need it to.

That, or he’s hiding pain stupidly well. Which wouldn’t be surprising, if disappointing. 

“Defeated,” he mourns. “Overthrown by rocks.”

Skylor dusts gingerly at the ground before sitting next to him. “They sure got the best of us, this time.”

“Maybe it’s a learning curve,” he says. “That or we missed, like, the optimal rock-skipping development time.”

“Mmh. Maybe we need to recruit a teacher who actually had a decent childhood.”

“If you find someone, lemme know.”

They both laugh, breathless and hollow, because they’re not much else they can say, to that. 

Lloyd sits up suddenly, pulling his knees to his chest. His arms wrap tightly around them, eyes glued forward. Instead of asking, Skylor follows his gaze to the skyline of Ninjago City, the darkened scars left behind by Garmadon and Harumi painfully pronounced this late at night. 

It couldn’t have been longer than two weeks, could it? Their rule over the city?

It feels like years.

She can’t imagine what it must’ve been like for the others — can’t imagine what it was like, ending it. 

It pains her, but Skylor doesn’t remember much of Garmadon’s defeat. She’d thrown everything she had into controlling his power, and when it had snapped back on her, ravaging through her like a cloying poison, everything had gone dark and hazy. 

It kind of sucks, because she’d done all that just to miss the most important parts, but…it is what it is.

What she does remember, besides Nya’s steady voice and Dareth’s panicked yelling, is the blazing warmth that was Lloyd carrying her.

That and his painfully bony shoulder digging into her stomach. 

“I was trying not to get us crushed,” Lloyd mutters, cheeks turning pink. “Sorry my shoulder wasn’t up to cushion-y standards.”

“And I’m trying to say thank you,” Skylor sighs. “But seriously. Put something on those bones.”

“Meh meh meh,” Lloyd mocks. There’s a lack of his usual energy in the action, the dullness to his eyes only made worse by the bruise-like circles beneath them. But it’s still very Lloyd — a flash of the friend she knows. 

“I really do mean it,” she says. “Thank you. For carrying me out of there. For saving me.”

Lloyd stares at her with dark eyes. Not as dark as they were, back when he’d lost his power, but the glow is almost entirely absent.

“You shouldn’t—” he bites off, frustrated. He tosses the rock he’s holding, up and down. “It was never a question.”

He glances at her. “Besides,” and there’s the closest she’s seen to a real smile. “You saved us first.”

Not nearly soon enough, she thinks. 

She should’ve told him, should have asked — should have let him know how it felt to watch her father fall deeper into madness, told him what it felt like to lose hope — what it meant, to move on. 

To cut ties, before they strangled you. 

“How are you,” she says, as gently as she can. Then, because gentle doesn’t always get you through the walls they build— “For real. Not how people want to hear you’re doing, or the answer you think they want. How are you.” 

Lloyd stiffens. There’s a flicker of fear in his expression, his mouth moving on instinct. 

“I’m doing okay.”

Tremors lace through his hand where he holds the rock, shuddering fingers tracing over the rough surface. 

“Okay as I can be.” He looks down, the rock slipping from his fingers as his arms wrap around himself. “I know that isn’t the answer you want, but I don’t…”

He looks back up, the lights of Ninjago City misty in his eyes.  

“I don’t know what people want me to say,” he whispers. 

Skylor wishes he’d screamed it. Wishes he’d snap, wishes he’d find the anger where it simmers inside him and turn it outwards against the world, rather than violently projecting it inwards like a masochistic missile all the time. Anything at all, instead of this hollow brokenness. 

It reminds Skylor a bit too much of—

Well. 

“I know I — things are—” Lloyd swallows. He pauses, raising his hand to scrub at an already-bloodshot eye. “Everything happened so fast. It was like — like getting hit with a bus, then another bus, then she — put the bus in reverse and ran me back over, and I never really had the chance to…to…”

“To get back up?”

Lloyd nods. He picks absently at a bloodstained patch on the leg of his gi. “And I know that’s just a stupid metaphor, but getting back up is…it’s really—”

Lloyd’s pulling threads loose now, tugging hard enough that he’s likely to start unraveling holes in his gi. 

“Can I tell you something? Something that’s not…not so good.”

“Hey, you know me.” Skylor elbows him. “I’m an expert at not-good.”

Lloyd’s eyes are a little too knowing. “You’re really not.”

And she’d turn a mirror on him, if she could. “What is it, then?”

Lloyd looks away, one unusually-sharp tooth gnawing at his lip. 

“I know my dad — my dad I used to have — he loved me. I know he did.” Lloyd sounds, rather devastatingly, like he’s trying to convince himself. “But now that he’s…now that he’s like this, and after everything that happened, I almost wish — I almost—”

He cuts off, covering his face with his hands. “Never mind.”

Skylor stays still, her gaze fixed ahead on a dark spot in the city skyline. If it were her, she’d want—

Lloyd’s voice is a muffled whisper. “I wish he’d never loved me at all.”

Skylor lets out a long, shaky breath. 

Lloyd gives a dry, horrible kind of laugh. “That’s terrible, isn’t it? It’s so selfish, it’s — I’m a horrible person, for thinking that way. But it — it hurts now, to think that — that maybe, now that I’m different — and her — that even my dad—” 

“It hurts,” she murmurs. “To lose it. To think that it’s your fault.”

Lloyd brings his arms over his head, the bandages on his left arm a stark white in the dimness as he buries his face in his knees. Curling up, as if he can make himself small enough the world will finally forget he exists. 

Skylor’s…familiar. 

But then again, is she? 

She swallows. Her father was one thing, but if — if he came back now, after she’s worked so hard to move on — at the height of his madness, what would she do? 

She’s out of her depth, as she’s always been.

But there was a reason she answered the call so fervently, a reason she followed Lloyd without hesitation. Skylor doesn’t put much stock in the Green Ninja, doesn’t put much in any kind of prophecy. But she does care, very much, about Lloyd, and she thinks that’ll take her a bit farther.

“You know.” She looks down, running her finger over their last rock. “You were one of the first people that gave me any hope that I could change. That, uh, someone could love me.”

Lloyd startles, emerging just enough that she can see the green of an eye. “Huh? Me?”

She nods. “Back on my father’s island, during the tournament. I was convinced that…that after everything I’d done, with who I was, there wasn’t a chance I’d find someone who loved me.”

Lloyd frowns, lowering his arms so he can look at her fully. “But I didn’t — Kai was the one who reached out to you. He was the one that saw you. I didn’t…I didn’t really do anything.”

“Yeah. He did. But he reached out to you, first.”

Lloyd stares at her, eyes wide. Skylor smiles at him. “You were good. No matter how bad your family had been. And it…it had been okay, for you.” 

The mistiness returns to Lloyd’s eyes as he looks back to the skyline, his lip caught tightly between his teeth. 

“We’re doing okay, right?” Skylor pulls her own knees up to her chest. “You and me. I mean, we helped, a lot. We fought back for the city. You did a lot more than me, obviously, but—”

“Don’t say that,” Lloyd sounds pained. “Don’t compare it, like I’m — I do a lot more harm than good, sometimes.”

“You don’t say that,” Skylor snaps. 

Lloyd flinches. She bows her head, staring down at her feet. 

“We’re good,” she says, hating the way her voice wobbles. “We’re different.”

It’s occurring to her, how cold it is out here on the water. She hopes Lloyd doesn’t get home with a cold, on top of everything else. 

“We’re different,” Lloyd echoes.

“Yeah.” Skylor swallows. “That has to count for something, right?”

Lloyd makes a small noise, but it isn’t one of disagreement. There’s a rustling as he reaches for the bag, then holds out their final, sad rock. 

“Wanna give it the last try?” He gives her a crooked, half smile. “Make it count?”

Her fingers close over the rough surface, cold against the warmth of his hand. 

The brightness of the sun against water on her father’s island in her eyes, Skylor flings the rock as hard as she can, far enough that it’s swallowed entirely by the harbor darkness. 

If she tries, she can imagine it skipping, just once, across the freezing waters. 

She tells herself, it counts anyways.

[dearest-nell]

turbulence

e. munson x reader, 1.7k

summary: you and eddie are taking your first real vacation together, but the turbulence of the flight is enough to make anyone regret their mode of travel includes: established reader x eddie, eddie being a comfort king, just a bunch of sweetness all round warnings: flight warnings, stormy skies, reader is terrified of flying and the flight is a bit rocky. no real danger.

a/n: shoutout to random images on pinterest for inspiring this one

How the hell you’d thought that this was a good idea was anyone’s guess. 

The idea had been so simple; you and Eddie had run yourselves into the ground to save up for your first overseas trip – his first one ever. Well… not quite overseas, though Eddie had very decidedly announced that Hawaii counted all the same. It had come from a thousand nights of cheap noodle dinners and canned tuna to garnish, leaving you sure that you never again would touch a pack of the grimy stuff. Double shifts and weekend overtime earned you enough money to get you to the airport, an excitable Eddie half trembling with the thrill of the journey. 

He’d been up almost the entire night before tossing and turning, eager hands squeezing at your waist as he tried his best not to wake you. Restlessness was par for the course with him, but even more so, this trip had him vibrating on an entirely new frequency. He’d never been out of state until he met you, had never seen a plane any larger than the size of his thumb held comparatively to the sky. The best part, though, was that he was getting to share this all with you. His life had been a constant stream of new experiences, a high he’d never had the pleasure of knowing until he felt what it was like to be loved so wholeheartedly by another. There was nothing so thrilling to him as the idea of basking in the sun with you, blissfully drunk and happily snuggled on a shared beachside lounge. 

Discount resort be damned, you’d been savvy in finding the best bargain the travel agent could offer. Eddie had never thought frugal spending could be so fucking sexy before. 

You, however, could not share his excitement with equal merriment. Sure, the holiday part sounded like a dream, and all of Eddie’s wishful thinking and imaginings had made you fall even more in love with the idea. Getting there, however, was another story, because unlike Eddie, you had been on a plane before. One time too many, if anyone were to ask. 

You did not like the small spaces, the recycled air, the uniform packaged meals that all somehow tasted like plastic. There was never enough room, always too much noise, and worst of all, nowhere to go. Every plane trip was spent with you counting down the minutes until your feet touched solid ground once more, a sensation you somehow seemed to forget with every passing travel until the next occurred. 

The dread had begun to build inside the airport, your hand clasped rigidly around the strap of Eddie’s backpack, his movements and your directions guiding your joined bodies through the chaos. If he knew something was wrong, he did not dare to comment. You were quieter than usual, after all, but it was easy enough to chalk that up to the obnoxiously early flight you were catching. It was cheaper that way, and you could sleep on the plane, you’d justified to yourself. The hour was enough to quieten even the most talkative of beings, twilight skies lulling Eddie to a gentle drawl as he rattled on about your upcoming adventures. 

Now that you were on the plane, though, it seemed all the worse. You’d been so brave through the takeoff, chewing on a pack of gum until your jaw ached from the tension, your hand tucked firmly under Eddie’s on the seat rest. You’d given him the window, his delight at the magic of flight distracting you enough until you were safely coasting through the sky. 

Eddie had chosen to sleep not long after, his head pressed to the wall of the plane despite the low rumbles, a position that could not conceivably be comfortable to anyone but Eddie. He could sleep anywhere, you’d learned early on in your relationship, and it seemed planes were no exception. You, however, were wide awake, trying your best to lose yourself in a book and suppress that nauseating feeling slowly taking over. 

It was within the hour that the turbulence began, gentle rumblings of the plane triggering that hazy green seatbelt sign to ignite. The captain warned that it would likely get worse before it got better, a thought that only exacerbated your growing anxieties. Eddie somehow slept through it all, even as the aircraft began to tremble and jolt. You didn’t want to wake him, not when he was sleeping so comfortably, still dreaming of all the good things to come. It felt silly to be frightened by such a small thing. Planes were safe, you knew that, but that seemed to be the trouble with anxiety; logic never mattered when the fear was so heightened. 

It was only when a terrified squeak left your lips that Eddie’s eyes flew open, his body shooting up rigidly in reaction to the sound. He’d have heard it anywhere, that terror, his body conditioned into a state of protection for you. The back of his hand wiped lazily at the sleep in his eyes, his body turning to face you on instinct. 

“What’s wrong? You okay?” You could hear the exhaustion that tinged his words, his eyes softening as he took in the fright in your own. 

“Its–” Your voice drowned out under the weight of thunder, the jolt leaving the tray tables to rattle in its aftermath. You couldn’t make your words come out, your lips hanging open in a frozen cry. 

Eddie did not need the clarification. He had never thought to consider you, his brave, sweet creature might have such fears, leaving guilt to turn sour in his mouth as it settled across him, knowing he had left you to face your fears alone. “Oh, sweetheart.” The solidity of his arms encased around you, tucking you gently into the curve of his side, hand cradling the back of your skull and the small of your back to shield you from the rest of the plane. “It’s okay, you’re okay.” 

“We’re going to die.” You whined, lilting in devastation into the fabric of his shirt. 

Eddie tried not to chuckle, his smile itching with amusement. “We’re not gonna die. We’re gonna be fine.” 

“We’re literally going to die.” You tried again, clinging to him until your knuckles were an ashen, bone white. 

Another jolt of the plane had you wincing, forcing Eddie to lift his gaze and observe your surroundings. Other than a few anxious fliers, most of the passengers were beyond asleep, tucked neatly into their own rows of the plane. No one else had much cause for alarm, the crew were muddling along their usual routes with a look of calm that even a professional could not fake. 

He dropped his attention back to you, slowly prying you from his side just enough to lift the armrest from between you, a reassuring arm scooping you now closer than before into his embrace. He could feel the tremble in your body as you burrowed your way into his side, trying to block out every other sensation but the feel of his body against yours. 

“You wanna know how I know that we’re not gonna die?” He asked assuredly, cupping at the base of your skull to prop your head against his shoulder, his grip firm and grounding in all the ways that were so incredibly Eddie. He felt you nod, hair slipping through the gaps of his fingers with every movement. 

“Because the crew aren’t panicking. No one’s brushin’ up on procedure or trying to wake everyone up. They're not at emergency stations. I’m pretty sure half of them are gossiping over there, can you see?” 

He lifted his hand to point, watching as your gaze followed the extension of his index finger, your lower lip dragging between your teeth to chew upon nervously. They all looked so calm, exchanging little whispered comments until one gentleman threw his head back in a silent laugh, shaking his head at his co-worker. 

“If we were gonna die,” Eddie continued, calloused fingers dipping between the layers of fabric at your waist to rub at your skin, letting the heat of his body lull you into further comfort, “then they’d be movin’ a hell of a lot faster than that, right? We’re gonna be fine, so you don’t gotta worry bout a thing.” 

He could see the contemplation simmering in your eyes, weighing up your fears with his logic, trying to discern where he line was. It was no easy thing to overcome a fear, especially one like this, but he loved you just for trying, even if your trembling figure only settled a little in his embrace. 

“Could you hold me anyways? Just until it goes away.” You turned to him with such sincerity, eyes widened and imploring in your gaze. 

He softened a reassuring smile in return, reaching to hook your legs over the nearer of his own, draping your body over his in whatever way these budget seats would allow. “I’m not letting you go, honey, not for a minute. I’ll hold you all the way there, so just settle in. We’re gonna get through it together.” 

As tired as he was, as muddled as he sure felt, Eddie did not mind staying up just to give you that peace of mind. His head fell back into the headrest, propping him up to keep watchful gaze on the comings and goings around him. It took the responsibility off you, feeling assured that he was there to spot if something went wrong along the way. Somehow, with his gentle movements across the expanse of your back and his steady, rhythmic heartbeat thrumming just beside your ear, you slipped out of consciousness, the exhaustion of this already long day finally dragging you under. 

Eddie was only able to notice once the turbulence subsided, expecting you to perk up with a surveying glance, only to find the rise and fall of your chest slow and drowsy against his own. He pressed chapped lips to your forehead, letting his own eyelids hang low as his vision faded drearily. He could sleep now, satisfied with the idea that neither of you would wake again until your hard earned landing was in sight.

[lordofdestructionm]

Fun Vikdecai scenario for you

and by "fun" I mean pure angst

After the events of the Pilot its not hard to imagine Ivy giving Viktor more details about the trio''s "successful" rum run and their encounter with Marigold. Whether to brag or because Viktor wants to know exactly how much danger she was in.

She might mention the moment when she looked over her shoulder and it looked like Mordecai had his gun aimed right at her, and maybe she was seeing things, but she could swear it looked like he had the shot but lowered the gun

Viktor pauses for a moment but casually dismisses the idea. Mordecai is a traitor and backstabber etc. Shot his partner of over six years in the knee and went to work for their biggest rivals just after Atlas died and the grass started looking greener on the Marigold side.

Plus Ivy still has that wide eyed optimism about her, so of course she is going to read kinder intentions into what could have been a simple matter of the car being too far away or the gun jamming etc.

He doesn't think too much about it after that. Eventually, after recovering just about enough from his injury from the pig farmer attack, Viktor insists to Mitzi that he go with the two crazy noodle armed cousins instead of Ivy.

Mitzi is reluctant but knows when Viktor isn't going to budge, and so she agrees on condition that he not try and throttle Rocky or Ivy's boyfriend while on the job.

The terms are accepted.

Begrudgingly.

But the inevitable happens, and of course, they have a run-in with Marigold.

This is a nightmare for Mordecai.

This is exactly what wounding Viktor's knee was supposed to prevent. He can't let the Savoys go after Viktor, but even if he manages to get them to focus on the two crazy amateurs, Mordecai won't be able to get away with just wounding him and then leaving him be like the kneecapping incident, because the Savoys will want to finish the job, and what reason could he give them for refusing?

Killing Viktor is clearly not an option. He couldn't do it to Ivy and there is no way he can do it now. Betraying his trust, the years of always having each others backs, and the unlikely bond they shared when he left Lackadaisy, had been hard enough. However much he told himself it was "for his own good".

Now either Viktor or his invesitgation into Atlas's death are doomed. Likely both.

He has to try and force Viktor to retreat. He fires warning shots close enough for Viktor to feel the bullets fly past him but just miss his large frame.

Viktor knows how deadly Mordecai is at range and considering what limited weapons Viktor is working with surely the stubborn and still visibly injured and slower moving Ox for once will do the sensible thing!?

But there's a problem with that strategy. Viktor knows Mordecai. More specifically, he knows how well he shoots. He has seen him hit much less tall and broad targets in much more difficult circumstances without breaking a sweat, but here he is missing multiple shots? That's when what Ivy said months before comes back to him.

He knows Mordecai is missing those shots on purpose.

What the hell happens now?

Mordecai can't retreat but has no idea what to do either with Viktor clearly not backing off, while Viktor is not only too stubborn to do so but now knows Mordecai is trying not to shoot him. Does he take the opportunity to confront him? Get out from behind any cover and just start walking with as strong and determined a pace as his bad knees will allow? Does he want to pull Mordecai's head off his body, get payback for his knee, demand an explanation why someone he considered a friend betrayed him?

All the while, Mordecai is getting more and more panicked with every heavy step.

[yuna542]

[1]<-

[2]

›Bad Idea‹

Pairing: Hong Woojin × Reader

Genre: Smut, Fluff, Angst, Enemies with benefits to Lovers

Warnings: 18+, explicit Smut, under 18 DNI!, suggestive Themes, Swearing, pet names, hate sex, ANGST, fingering, bruises

Word Count: 6.1k

Note: Part 2… God I have so many ideas for Storys yet so little time to actually write them. But good news: I‘m soon on vacation, that means I‘ll have a lot time for writing. Hope you like this part. There will be big drama soon~ Much love

Summary: As Gunwoo‘s little sister he wanted you to finally meet his best friend. Unfortunately you don't get along. He gets on your nerves, you fight all the time and yet you can't stop messing with each other. One evening you get into a dangerous situation and end up bruised and bloody at his apartment. And you suddenly have to ask yourself: Why do you feel so attracted to that idiot?

Chapter 3:

The Mistake

Waiting, you stared at him when he made no move to turn around.

"Do you want me to change in front of you?" you asked accusingly, and that's when he seemed to remember his manners. With a wry grin, he ran a hand through his hair.

"Well, I wouldn't mind."

Stunned, you grabbed a pillow from the sofa and threw it at him to hide how your face flushed with redness. But he caught it and laughed derisively.

"Okay calm down! I'm going to take a shower too. Can you watch the ramen? It just needs a few more minutes."

Then he disappeared into the bathroom as well, and you heard the water being turned on.

After slipping into his clothes, which were of course too big for you, you had to admit that they didn't look as bad as you thought.

But you definitely wouldn't tell him that.

You continued to prepare the ramen, filling it into two bowls that you placed on the living room table, and just as you were tasting it, Woojin came out of the bathroom.

You nearly choked on a noodle at the unannounced sight of his wet adonis-like torso. He had a towel wrapped around his hips, surrounded by refreshing steam and you were sure it only took a gust of wind to loosen it. The mere thought made your whole head glow and you tried not to let on how hot you thought his entire appearance was. It was wrong to think such things and you were disgusted by your own mind. It was Woojin after all. A dickhead and an idiot with no manners or empathy.

He rubbed his hair dry with a towel and as he did so, his biceps stood out and his abs tightened. You felt reminded of history class because he looked like one of those ancient statues carved out of marble depicting naked bodies of the gods.

The bruises and red marks all over his ribs and stomach already looked nasty, and you scrunched your nose as he came closer.

"Does it hurt a lot?" you asked, pointing to one of the biggest bruises that was just below his chest.

He looked down at himself, threw away the towel in his hand, and shook his head. Casually, he dropped down on the sofa next to you and grabbed one of the bowls and chopsticks.

"It's no big deal," he dismissed it, lying.

In fact, every breath hurt like hell and he feared that a rib or two had been broken, but he would never have admitted that in his life. Not in front of you. You stared at him in disbelief for a while and before you could stretch out your finger, he caught your hand and looked at you with a warning tone:

„Don’t you dare!“, he said and you snorted amused. So you had your answer that he was just playing the hero. But you left it at that, because his tight grip on your hand was already messing up your insides again. With one last warning look, he let go of your hand and tried to look unbothered.

As you continued to eye him concerned, he shook his head like a wet dog, and when you nudged him in annoyance at the drops of water hitting you, he just grinned broadly.

"Bon appétit!" he said enthusiastically, and so you ate in silence.

The fact that he was wearing only a towel played with your mind and you tried not to stare at his body all the time, although that was getting increasingly difficult.

It wasn't long before your bowls were empty.

Woojin took them to the kitchen and when he returned, you nibbled your lower lip uneasily. He looked at you unobtrusively.

It was strange to see you sitting cross-legged, in his clothes on his couch and despite everything you looked like a princess. A sight he never imagined to see.

"Ah shit," you cursed and groaned in pain as you put too much strain on your hand.

Silently, he sat down next to you again and grabbed your hand as if it was natural. He turned it and looked at your scraped knuckles in the light. With a furrowed brow, you watched as he palpated your wrist and pulled your hand away with a hiss as a sharp pain shot through your arm.

"Ouch! Be careful, dickhead! What are you doing?" you whimpered, and he glared at you again.

"Stop bitching around! I'm trying to help so Gunwoo doesn't rip my head off. Luckily you just bruised it because you snapped your wrist when you punched him."

Questioningly, you looked at his hands, which he demonstratively clenched into fists.

"You see that? Your wrist must always be tense when you punch, otherwise you can break your hand," he explained and you made a fist as well.

"Like this?" you asked curiously, holding it out to him.

Carefully he enclosed it with his strong fingers and straightened your wrist. His skin was warm on yours and you resisted the urge to grab his hand at the last moment.

"Almost. That's it. You have to keep it straight and tense as you punches," he said, smiling delightedly. It was clear how much fun he was having teaching you some of his passion.

You caught yourself smiling pleasantly as well, as you watched the enthusiastic gleam in his eyes while he spoke. He continued to hold your hand and that's when your eyes met.

As you gazed at each other in silence, the air became electrically charged and something in your stomach fluttered uneasily.

"Do you want me to take a look at that? That looks pretty bad," he said then, pointing to the wound on your eyebrow.

Before you could even answer, he already fetched a first aid kit, which he probably needed often, and spread it out in front of you.

"Can you put some clothes on first?" you asked before he could come closer, fearing you would lose your mind if he touched you like that too. You waved your hand in front of his chest, while you tried to avoid eye contact:

„That is irritating...“

He himself seemed to have completely forgotten that he was half naked and took a pair of boxershorts from the pile of clothes and slipped into them without further ado.

„Oh really? I thought you could handle a real man“, he provoked and was obviously proud of his stupid saying. You just crossed your arms and looked up to him with raised eyebrows.

„I could if there was one here.“

Offended, he mumbled something unintelligible, which certainly was an insult and rummaged in the pile of clothes. Then he put on a black shirt with the typical 'Metallica' lettering printed on it, before he sat down in front of you again and leaned your head on the chin to the side to have a better view of the cut on your eyebrow.

With skillful moves, he prepared disinfection, a wound ointment and a plaster. It was obvious that he was skilled at this. You already knew the procedure from Gunwoo as well.

You had treated him and his best friend countless times when they came home after training or a fight. Not only boxers knew quickly about such things, but also their environment.

"Now that hurts a little bit. I'm counting to three. One..."

And already he pressed the swab with the disinfectant on the spot and you squeaked loudly in pain. It was obviously the revenge for your mean comment.

Angrily, you punched him in the shoulder. This time your wrist was tense, yet it seemed to have no effect on him.

"What the hell! You said on the count of three!" you snapped at him, squinting your eyes as your entire head seemed to be on fire. God you hated him so much.

"It must come unexpectedly. It’s better," he replied, clearly amused, and dabbed the ointment on your wound with such gentleness as you were not used to from him.

Expertly, he stuck a plaster above your eyebrow and looked at his work with satisfaction.

"Voilà!" he presented it with both hands and smiled.

"Now it's your turn!" you said then and he nodded curtly.

"Okay. But please don't make it worse than it is," he replied teasingly and you gave him an annoyed look. As you set to work dabbing the wounds, you asked in passing:

"Why did you help me?"

"You're my best friend's sister. So you're my responsibility, too."

Your eyes met for a moment and there was that crackling energy again, making your skin tingle. Quickly you averted your eyes and pressed the swab with disinfectant on his wound to stop whatever was happening. It was almost panic as you avoided his gaze. He twitched slightly, but didn't make a sound.

"I mean how did you find me?"

The question had been burning on your tongue ever since he had suddenly appeared and beaten the assholes to a mush.

"I stayed at the party to keep an eye on you. Then when you left, I followed you."

Briefly, you paused and looked at him suspiciously.

"That's kind of creepy..."

He leaned against the back of the sofa with one arm and tilted his head a little.

"Oh well, you're lucky I was there."

He was right about that. Without him, something really bad would have happened. You didn't even want to imagine how it would have turned out if he hadn't shown up like a knight in shining armour.

But then something occurred to you.

"You've been watching me? The whole time?" you asked, thinking about your little makeout session with the guy. Had he seen all of that?

"It wasn't my idea... Gunwoo wanted me to watch you."

That made more sense. Your brother had told him to do it. Woojin probably didn't care at all what happened to you. You breathed a sigh of relief when he didn't bring up making out. He probably hadn't even noticed.

You nodded slowly and began spreading the cream on his wounds.

"Thanks anyway."

He watched as your eyes wandered intently over his face, trying to get every detail. How your eyebrows lifted slightly when you spoke or how you nibbled on your lower lip when you were thinking or concentrating.

Your slender fingers felt comfortable against his skin and he secretly wished you would never stop touching him.

"There is one thing that does interest me..."

"Huh?"

"Why did you just leave the poor guy? Was he that bad?" he asked, and immediately your heart flipped over and heat shot into your cheeks. Embarrassed, you cleared your throat and tried to avoid his gaze.

So he had seen it after all and couldn't just let it go.

And the worst part was that he clearly enjoyed the way shame turned your cheeks red and you uncomfortably brushed a strand of hair behind your ear.

"No... he... I was... that's not the..."

You cursed yourself for only stammering coming out of your mouth, but Woojin had caught you off guard. Why were you so uncomfortable talking to him about it, and why didn't he stop looking at you so piercingly? Under no circumstances would you have told him the truth. That you had been thinking about him while someone else was all over you. You hated the fact yourself and still blamed it on the alcohol.

The corners of his mouth twitched knowingly and only now did you notice how close his lips hovered in front of yours. You had been so focused on treating his wound that you hadn't noticed how close your faces were in front of each other.

If you wanted to, you just had to lean forward a little and you could touch his lips with yours.

"So?" he asked teasingly, his voice getting a lot deeper.

His shimmering eyes made you all jittery and when he put his hand on your hip, your breathing only faltered.

"He just wasn't my type," you tried to end the subject, spreading the last of the ointment on his cheek.

"What's your type?" he continued to ask, and you hated his handsome face, prominent jawline and those engaging eyes for making you a flustered mess.

"Why do you want to know?" you mumbled, putting the ointment down and freezing as he lifted your chin with his index finger so you had to look him in the eye.

"Just out of curiosity."

Was he flirting with you? No he couldn't be. He was just messing with you and would laugh at you at any moment for taking it from him. After all, he didn't even like you and you didn't like him, so what was all this about?

"I can tell you what's not my type..."

"I'm listening."

His eyes were luminous in the dim light of his apartment. Your voice was low, but soft as velvet.

"Guys who are cheeky and ruthless. Act stupid all the time. Who don't know when to shut up. Who prefer to solve their problems with their fists rather than their mind. And think with their dick rather than their brain."

"Then I'm your walking nightmare."

You snorted in amusement and there your noses brushed against each other. The brief contact was enough to make everything go crazy in your head.

"And you? What kind of girls are you into?" you asked, just to say something.

Maybe to stop what was about to happen. He put his hand gently against your cheek and you could feel his warm breath brush against your lips as he spoke. You were both fighting an internal battle, wanting to break away from each other and put as much distance between you as necessary. However, your bodies did not obey.

"Until now, I thought I knew."

The rasp in his voice gave you goosebumps. Everything in you screamed to flee, to push him away and never speak a word to him again. But the heat rushed in your ears and your body no longer listened to you.

"What do you mea..." you were interrupted when his lips collided with yours and he pulled you stormily closer.

The defiant voice in your head grew quieter and the kiss was chaotic, emotional. Just as you knew Woojin and sensual at the same time.

His tongue slid over your lower lip and as soon as you opened your lips a little, your tongues fought for dominance. His hands slid to your hips, reaching for you, and you buried your fingers in the fabric of his shirt at his chest. Soon the whole thing was just a mess of tongues, teeth, groping and greedy touches.

All the tension between you, the anger and adrenaline of tonight unloaded between you and he tasted so addictive you never wanted to taste anything else. You didn't know if it was minutes, maybe hours, when you broke away from each other, panting.

Only then did you remember what was actually happening.

"What the... How," you stammered and ran your hands through your hair, overwhelmed. You couldn't bear to look each other in the eye for even a second, afraid of what else you would conjure up.

"I'm sorry. That was stupid," he muttered, and then you dared to look at him again. His lips lured seductively.

It all didn't matter now anyway, did it?

"Yes. It was."

He took a rasping breath as you grabbed a handful of his t-shirt and roughly pulled him closer again.

"Do it again!" you murmured, and he didn't need to be told twice. Relieved, his hands flew to your hips and your lips crashed together again. He pulled you onto his lap and you buried your fingers in his hair as you licked incessantly into each other's mouths.

The kiss was heated and more passionate than anything you had ever experienced. Like a fire it burned everything to ashes and his hands explored your body everywhere the fabric revealed a strip of skin.

"Shit you taste like candy," he murmured between kisses to your lips, spreading them along your jawline. A sigh escaped you as he grazed the sensitive spot behind your ear and you unconsciously rolled your hips against him.

He turned you on in a way that made your heart pound and your head spin. Briefly he paused and looked at the strangulation marks on your neck left by the gorilla.

Carefully he stroked the reddened areas and you thought you felt relief only from his touch.

Then he gently brushed his lips over them, caressing your skin as if he could heal it like that, and you laid your head back with your eyes closed while he worked his magic all over your neck. It was unreal how he melted your whole body just with that.

He ran his hands under your shirt and stroked your belly, your sides, up to your back. Gradually you couldn't stand it anymore. Your core pulsed excitedly and you wanted everything from him at once.

"Stop teasing!" you gasped as he sank his teeth into your neck. He lifted his gaze and looked like a puppy with those shiny eyes and excited smile.

"I can't help it. You're too cute, the way you're so desperately grinding on me."

Startled, you only now noticed how you rolled your hips against his middle. Your body had taken on a life of its own, desperately trying to create more friction to soothe the immense desire in your lower belly.

"Are you blushing?" he teased, squeezing your hips.

"Are you shy after all?"

Annoyed by his jokes and arrogance, you unceremoniously pulled your shirt over your head and tossed it aside. You could play this game, too. He should realize that he wasn't in control.

Surprised, he raised his eyebrows and his gaze was immediately glued to your naked body. He stared at your perfect breasts that he had imagined so many times when you came rushing into Gunwoo's room in those short pajama shirts that were way too small for you to yell at them to turn down the music.

"Fuck... Your tits are really perfect," escaped him and he immediately grabbed your breasts with both hands, cupped them and groped them while he spread kisses on your collarbone again.

"Do you think about my tits often?" you asked provocatively, gasping as soon as he sucked your skin and kneaded the soft flesh of your tits in his hands. The heat flowed together in a river between your legs and you could feel his hardened length through the fabric of his boxers.

"No wonder when you dress so slutty...you always run around in those short clothes at home when I'm there," he shot back less eloquent, completely distracted by your curves and soft skin. Soon his mouth closed around your nipple and he also worked your soft skin on your breasts as if he couldn't get enough.

You pushed him back roughly on his chest until he hit the back of the sofa and looked up at you with a mischievous expression on his face.

"You're insulting me while you're groping me all desperate?" you asked incredulously, taking advantage of the moment to take a breath.

"I thought you couldn't stand me?"

He pressed your hips harder against his in response, so that his hard dick pressed right up against your needy cunt. It was a little scary how big he felt through the fabric.

"I can't stand you. But I still think you're hot. Stop with the sass mouth. I know you want me!" he replied sharply and you laughed in amusement.

"You have a really overrated self-esteem."

Nevertheless, with greedy fingers you finally ripped his shirt off his body and stroked his bruises with care. His abs felt hard under your fingers and you sucked in a sharp breath as he began to rub your hips against his hard length.

"Do you trust me?" he asked, placing kisses all over your chest, nibbling on your neck. You threw your head back, growing,

"Fuck, If i didn't I wouldn't be half-naked on you."

Satisfied, he grabbed your ass and stood up with you as if you weighed no more than a feather. You held onto his neck and so he carried you to his room.

Red LED lights bathed the small room in an spicy atmosphere and in the corner of the room was a bed on which he placed you. He stepped between your legs and climbed over you until he was looking down on you.

He enjoyed the sight of your exposed body beneath him and before he could gape any further, you pulled him down to you and kissed him again.

At the same time he helped you get rid of the sweatpants and couldn’t stop touching your skin everywhere. You could feel his dick pressed against your thigh through his underwear, and your cunt tingled excitedly as his hands traveled agonizingly slowly down your belly.

"You want me to touch you, don't you?" he whispered in your ear, his fingers playing across the surface of your underwear and making you very, very aware of how wet they were.

"You are so arrogant. It's disgusting you know?" you said with a razor sharp tone that made his eyebrows twitch. It was the typical expression you always saw when you got on his nerves and managed to make him angry.

You tried not to look particularly impressed as he brushed his hand over your inner thigh, and yet as soon as he stroked your covered middle, you exhaled loudly.

"Uhh... Do you think you can resist much longer? Just admit you want me," he purred and god he had no idea how much you wanted to tear the last shred of fabric from his trained body, so that he would fuck you senseless. But instead you stubbornly withstood his gaze and let your fingers wander in circles over his chest.

"Do you really think you can satisfy me? You seem to have quite a bit to compensate for.... ah"

A short cry, more like a surprised moan escaped you as he slipped his hand unannounced into your panties and sank two fingers inside you.

Smugly, he began pumping them into your wet cunt while your mouth was open and you clung tensely to his upper arm, which he used to support himself next to your head. He looked down at you with a dangerous grin, like a predator eyeing its prey, and you could no longer hide what his touches were doing to you.

His thumb began to massage your clit at the same time and the heat in your lower abdomen clenched into a coil of pure fire. Whatever he did with his fingers made you drift off completely into the fog of ecstasy and the sinful moan he tore from you was like a reward for him.

"That sounds so much better... If I had known your moans sounded so pretty, I would have shut you up by doing this much sooner."

His words made the anger rise in you again. Why could you absolutely dislike each other, and yet it was the hottest thing you had ever experienced?

He sped up the motions of his fingers and the room was filled with the wet sounds and your moans as he memorized every expression on your face. You were beautiful the way you looked at him out of those angry big eyes, but couldn't hide the way your high rolled relentlessly closer.

"Don't you dare stop!" you gasped breathlessly, and he just laughed softly as your fingernails dug into his arm and he felt your cunt clench around his fingers.

"Don't worry. I want to see your face when you come around my fingers," he breathed against your ear and sucked on your neck, working his way back down and wrapping his lips around your nipple. He bit into it lightly while you were already starting to see stars.

His long fingers and mouth on your heated skin was enough to drive you over the top.

Trembling, you buried your hands in his hair and tugged on his strands overwhelmed as the world around you faded into white while you moaned his name as you came.

He savored your high to the last second and then he pulled his fingers out of your panties. While your chest rose and fell frantically and you tried to get back in touch with reality, he slipped his fingers into his mouth and licked your juices off of them.

Then he leaned down to you again and kissed you. With the kiss you slowly drifted back to reality. He had given you the best orgasm of your life only with his fingers. You could only imagine what it would be like to feel his dick.

The kiss was messy and hurried, tongues exploring every corner they could find and gradually swayed into sensuality. He grinded his hard dick against your inner thigh and you could clearly feel how impatient he was getting.

You felt how you became addicted to more, which is why you ran your fingers down his stomach. Even though you saw him half naked every day at training, it was something else to feel his muscles. Firm and seductive pressed against your soft body.

Almost playfully, you let your fingers wander over his waistband of boxers, sliding them in a bit as he greedily licked into your mouth and kneaded your breast with one hand.

He exhaled rattling as you rubbed your covered pussy right against his dick and he felt the soaked fabric even through his underwear. Your body was like a drug he would probably never get off of again.

His dick was so hard it was already painful and you smiled as he broke the kiss, breathlessly almost begging:

"Can I fuck you?"

"Just shut the fuck up and do it already!" you replied and it was as if you had given the starting signal for a boxing match. He tore off his underwear and got rid of your panties in record speed.

When his cock jumped free and bounced heavily against his belly, you couldn't suppress a surprised gasp.

He was indeed big... Very big.

When he noticed your gaze, he smiled with satisfaction and lined himself up with you.

"Still think I need to compensate for something?" he asked mockingly and you could feel his tip already at your entrance.

"Do you want to talk or fuck me?" you shot back as your cunt was already pulsing impatiently and you wanted to finally feel him. Even if it would hurt.

"You're so incredibly annoying..." he grumbled, and held your hips in place, so that you couldn't move back from his massive cock. Before you could retort anything snarky, he pushed in one unbroken movement inside of you and your entire body came alive with electric pleasure that has you gasping as he held you there, with his hands firmly on your hips to stop you from wiggling away. As he draws back and pushes back in so hard your vision splits with stars and heat explodes beneath your skin.

It hurt as he stretched you out and you could only see through the tears how much he enjoyed your fucked out face as he proved to you that he wasn't just talking stupid. You clawed at his back and your gasps quickly turned to pornographic moans. The pain was flooded and washed away by the arousal the more he stretched you out.

His thrusts hit something inside of you that made you soon choke on your moans, because you were still so tangled up from his fingers teasing you that you were close again already, and you knew exactly that he's never going to let you live this down.

Woojin was a professional athlete, you knew that. But now you realised behind closed doors, under the sheets, he was an olypian.

He set a fast pace, hitting your sweet spot with every thrust, deeper inside of you every time. The world around you blurred in arousal and you wrapped your legs around his hips as he seemed to hit deeper with every thrust. His bed squeaked dangerously and banged loudly against the wall. Woojin's neighbors would probably barely be able to sleep a second, but you couldn't care less.

"You feel incredible," he gasped, intercepting your whimpers with intense kisses, and you felt yourself falling apart at any moment. When he perceived that your body was tensing, he intertwined his fingers with yours and pressed your hand into the mattress beside your head.

"Woojin... fuck... I'm gonna..."

You didn't remember how to form words or put them in proper order, but he understood you even without words. He read your reactions and your body like a book.

"It's okay, dollface! Come around my cock!"

At that moment, something exploded in your head and your orgasm gripped you with such force that you moaned his name loudly and your walls almost crushed him. It was like your body was burning and your brain was turning to mush. If you died now, you would be beyond pissed because you were with Woojin, but at least you had the best sex of your whole life.

"Fuck... oh fuck," he moaned, and a low growl escaped him as he too was on the verge.

"Come inside me! I'm on the pill!" you gasped and he moaned at your words.

„Shit... You're naughty."

He only thrusted into you hard one more time until he too came and shot his load deep inside you. After a few sloppy thrusts, he collapsed on top of you breathing heavily and buried his face in the crook of your neck.

So you slowly calmed down, listening to each other's heartbeat, and you stroked him dizzy over the back. It took quite a while for both of you to gradually drift back out of the thick fog of fuzzy state.

Neither dared to say a word for fear of what would happen. Silently you traced the lines of his marine tattoo and he grumbled comfortably, making your body vibrate.

"What did we do...", you whispered after a while and that's when he lifted his head, took another deep breath of your scent to store it in his mind and then rolled off you onto his back.

Suddenly everything was like before, only the heavy smell of sex in the air was new. You swallow at the awkward aftermath because you didn't think this far. You never even thought this was a possibility in any universe.

You both stared at the ceiling, trying to understand what had just happened. You pulled the blanket around your body and rolled onto your side, with your back to him.

What was that fluttering in your stomach? Why couldn't you bear to look at him?

Restlessly, you nibbled on your bottom lip and closed your eyes. Hopefully you would just wake up in your bed and all this had never happened. It would just be a dream, that you could be ashamed of, but nobody would ever know about it. Especially Woojin would never know. You had a feeling that everything he did would now somehow remind you of sex with him.

"Still hate me?" he asked into the silence and you replied:

"Definitely"

"Just as much?"

"Maybe a little less"

You raised your eyebrows in surprise when he actually laughed. You stared at the opposite wall until the corners of your mouth went up as well and you giggled too. The whole situation was too surreal to be true.

First your mortal enemy saved you from thugs and then fucked you senseless.

That's when you turned around and looked at him. He ran his hand through his thick curls and when your eyes met, you grinned like idiots. Never in your life had you expected this situation.

He also rolled onto his side until your faces hovered close to each other.

"That was a mistake," you mumbled after a while and he nodded.

"Yes... Gunwoo must never know about this."

For the first time, you fully agreed with him, and the mere thought of your brother getting to know even a glint of it gave you goosebumps. Still, you couldn't stop looking dreamily at the other and admiring each other's features. Were his cheekbones always this sharp?

"Then let's not regret it until tomorrow..." he then murmured and that was okay with you. Silently you nodded and that's when he reached out and pulled you closer by your hips under the covers.

You snuggled against his chest and he put his big arms around your body, squeezing your ass teasingly.

Just for tonight.

That's what you kept saying to each other in your mind. It was just for tonight and tomorrow all this had never happened.

After all, the whole thing had nothing to mean.

So it was okay when your lips lay on each other again and your hands wandered over each other's bodies. Just for tonight. You delayed the morning as long as possible, until you fell asleep snuggled close to him, relaxed and secure.

And with a smile on your lips.

-

The next morning, when Woojin woke up, you were gone. So were your things, and he looked in his closet for safety. Only when he saw that his clothes were indeed missing, he believed that he had not imagined the whole thing.

While eating breakfast, he glanced at his phone and spotted a message from you:

"If you tell anyone about this, you're dead."

Despite the threat, he smiled slightly and looked at the sofa where the first aid kit still lay.

You had disappeared in the early morning. It would be too strange to look him in the eyes in the morning. You didn't know what you would say and you would have liked to leave the country, never to see him again.

The worst thing was that you just couldn't stop thinking about last night. On the bus you unconsciously smelled his shirt you were wearing again and you would have loved to punch yourself.

Quietly, you unlocked your front door and were about to sneak into your room, but Gunwoo was already awake and packing his training bag. When he heard the door, he turned to you and froze when he saw the wound on your temple.

Then his gaze traveled down your body and only when he had silently looked at your torn dress in your hands as well, did he ask:

"What happened?"

You couldn't say anything. You just stood there and suddenly everything fell away from you. The attack, the beating, the feeling of the gorilla's hand around your neck, and finally the bruises in your palms from the rope.

It all came back with such force that you trembled and tears welled up in your eyes.

Immediately, your brother came up to you worriedly and wrapped you in his arms. You let everything you held in your hands fall and buried your face against his chest, while your body was shaken by heartbreaking sobs. The hopelessness and fear you had felt reverberated within you, but Gunwoo's smell and warmth softened the helpless feeling.

He was the only one you could admit your weaknesses to, and your heart instantly lightened as he stroked your hair and just held you close.

"It's all right. I'm here," he murmured reassuringly and as soon as you caught your breath, you sat down at the kitchen table where his boxing gloves were.

Then you told him everything. Well, almost everything.

You left out the thing about Woojin and the sex. After all, that had never happened.

Gunwoo's face darkened with every word and his knuckles stood out white, so tightly did he clench his hands into fists. After you finished, you restlessly played with one of his bandages lying on the table.

"Are you mad?" you asked quietly, and that was the first time he really looked at you.

"God no! I'm just glad you're okay. I should have taken better care of you..."

He blamed himself. You quickly shook your head and reached for his hand across the table.

"No it wasn't your fault. Besides, Woojin was there to save me after all."

He nodded, but his jaw twitched tensely. Then he stood up and hugged you so tightly that you could barely breathe. But that was okay.

As he continued packing his things, you took your first real look around the kitchen. The cabinet under the sink was open and there were pipes and towels everywhere.

"What happened here?"

Gunwoo zipped up his bag and slipped into his jacket to leave for training.

"A pipe broke... I've already called a plumber and Mom really wanted to fix it herself. Could you help out at the café today?"

"Sure. Then I'll bring you pastries to training this afternoon."

Gunwoo's eyes sparkled with delight and he nodded vehemently.

"That sounds good. I'll see you later then."

He pressed a kiss to the top of your head and you tousled his hair in revenge before he disappeared through the door.

Shortly after, you fell back into bed and slept for another hour before heading to the café.

-> [3]

—

© Sky-yuna — 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐬 𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐞𝐝.

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[brabblesblog]

Fly down hell with me

Commissioned from Purple Danger Noodle, my absolute favorite.

So part of commissioning art at times is finding inspiration for poses. I know a lot of people have made art of Astarion based on this painting, and so I took a shot at a similarly posed one, with a twist.

The Fallen Angel, Alexandre Cabanel.

The name of the series, after all, is

If I ascend up into heaven, thou art there: if I make my bed in hell, behold, thou art there.

felt... appropriate.

As always, fics for these two idiots:

Whither is thy beloved gone?

Remember ye not the former things.

And here's a song I was listening to for the previous chapters. Originally it felt like a song for A, but the more I listened to it the more I realized it worked for both A and Ban.