#or rather a whole truck of twists

[l-in-the-light]

This, so much. I even wrote a joke about Oda struggling to bend Law to be the evil guy he planned him to be, but tbh I never found a source for that "Law was supposed to be evil" belief either. I had a feeling those are rumours, because I read some interviews and One Piece magazine translations, and this never came up. Heh.

But I have few extra thoughts here, and I'm gonna use this occassion to share :D

I think I get why this scene looks so different from the sketched one. It's because in the sketch Oda didn't incorporate yet Sanji and Law's dynamics. Those fleshed out as he was going. Sanji seems like he's cornering Law here, but it's actually not what's going on imo!

Because look at the scene in next chapter. They're all *worried* for Law. Sanji included. We know Sanji, he might pretend to be harsh towards guys and say he doesn't care, but *he always cares* and worries and protects people (Usopp, anyone?). That's why the scene from above isn't Sanji cornering Law just because he doesn't trust him and thinks he's up to no good. It's actually Sanji using the last possible moment to talk some sense into Law, because he thinks Law is losing their final goal from sight, getting too passionate about Doflamingo. He doesn't even care if Law has some hidden agenda. He says all of that because, yes, he is worried Law is gonna do something stupid and possibly die in the process (and was he wrong? No, he wasn't).

Why would Strawhats care for Law? This is just an alliance! I heard that argument so many times already. Yeah, but Luffy cares, and they know their captain pretty well so they will care as well, for his sake, if not for anything else. Besides Strawhats are actually a bunch of good people, so of course they will care, even for "strangers". Sanji also saved Kinemon who happens to be a dude, not a lady, and Sanji has no connection to him whatsoever. He simply does that because he cares for people.

And Law isn't so scheming and shady there like Oda planned in his original sketch, because Sanji's line also changed. Now he isn't confronting Law because he's distrustful but worried instead, and I think Law realized that. He recognized the worry coming from the blond guy always smoking a cigarette who also respected his dislike of bread and made onigiri especially for him at breakfast. We can say many things about Law, but not that he can't recognize care when he sees (and receives) it. And I could bet anything he looks so surprised there because someone reminding him slightly of his favourite Cora-san (blond, always smoking, caring) is worrying for him and asking him "are you not overfocusing on Doflamingo?"; that must have hit close to home. It's like Cora-san himself appeared in front of him and asked that question to Law, through Sanji.

But Law is a stubborn bastard and he wouldn't change his goal anyway.

Ok so sometimes I see people claiming Oda originally planned for Law to be evil. Did he actually say that? I can't find much on it

This and "Law is Oda's wife's favorite character" ROFL

Videos like this might've been the culprit behind this rumor. Law being 'named after a brutal pirate and allegedly had terrible rumors about him', doesn't equate to "Law was meant to be evil." No matter how canon-coded it seems, something can't be called a "fact" unless there's a legitimate reference. So far, Oda has made no such statement about Law.

The video used a draft image to back the point that Law was depicted as "scheming and manipulative" during Punk Hazard, taken from OP magazine vol. 8:

Sanji's dialogue, roughly: "Your strategy is to go head on against Doflamingo and Kaido, and to weaken Kaido's military strength, isn't it? And we're *in it together* because we believe the outcome benefits us, as well.

What are you planning?

I don't mind going ahead (to Zou), but I won't leave my friends in danger."

Law: Sharp at bargaining, aren't you...

It's not from Punk Hazard, it was Dressrosa.

Not to mention in both draft and finalized versions, it was Sanji cornering Law, not the other way around. IMHO it didn't add or subtract much from law's character as we already know him.

It's very likely that Law was planned to be (more) morally grey and manipulative. But inflating it as Oda's statement makes it a misinformation. This fandom sadly has a lot of these, thanks to engagement farming content creators.

[bloodreinasbathwater]

My Sunshine

Jack Hughes X F!Reader (pregnancy au)

a.n: Jacks initial chapters are coming to a close. after part 6 I will be putting out the mini chapters for the baby shower, nursery, birth, etc. this took forever but part 5 is finally done!!!

Warnings: pregnancy, sad jack, anxiety, mention of blood (briefly) , eventual smut. not proofread either so good luck.

Word Count - 3,728

Pregnancy series link / Jacks masterlist

Y/N's chest tightened as Jack's knuckles whitened on the steering wheel, his foot pressing down a bit too firmly on the gas pedal as they merged onto the bustling highway. The sun dipped low in the sky, casting long shadows across the road ahead, while a flock of birds soared gracefully overhead, their wings catching the golden light.

Y/N's gaze flickered between the cars rushing past them, each one a blur of colors and shapes, in the rearview mirror, she caught a glimpse of Jack's jaw clenching subtly, a telltale sign of his nerves despite his outward calm demeanor.

The tension in the air was palpable, mirroring the whirlwind of emotions that churned within Y/N as she grappled with the aftermath of the fight with Jason and the numerous events from the past week.

At her latest doctor's appointment, the doctor explained that due to her hormonal makeup, she likely wouldn't experience the same swelling and baby bump as most expectant mothers.

Rather than protruding outwards, her uterus would grow inwards towards her spine, minimizing her visible signs of pregnancy. It was an atypical condition, but the baby was developing perfectly based on the dating of the ultrasound.

She had finally worked up the courage to tell her best friend Heather everything, including the fight with Jason and her fears about keeping Jack around without telling him the truth. She stole a glance at him in the driver's seat.

Jack's knuckles turned white as he gripped the steering wheel, fingers flexing anxiously. Despite his outward nerves, she found comfort in his familiar mannerisms after his team's big win last night.

"You don't have to do this if you aren't ready," Jack said, voice strained. He blinked rapidly, adam’s apple bobbing. "My parents will understand if we reschedule."

Y/N shook her head, subconsciously resting a hand on her still-flat stomach. In between putting the finishing touches on her latest book release, this had been her one constant thought. "No, I want to meet them. Just a little nervous I guess."

They neared Jack's childhood neighborhood, y/n’s stomach twisted into anxious knots, and she wiped her damp palms against her jeans. Jack's hardy pickup truck rumbled beneath them, the weather-worn bench seat creaking as she fidgeted restlessly.

He must have noticed her nerves ramping up because suddenly his calloused hand reached across the console, muscular forearm brushing her thigh as he twisted the volume dial. The opening chords of a classic country song blared through the truck's speakers, the unmistakable twang of the singer's voice filling the cab.

Then, Jack started singing - his rich voice rumbling from deep within his barrel chest. He wore a faded green jersey stretched taut across his broad shoulders, the slightest hint of chest hair peeking into the open button. Hanging one hand lazily from the steering wheel, he used the other to dramatically lip-sync and serenade Y/N with exaggerated motions.

She clapped one hand over her mouth, desperately trying to muffle the unstoppable peals of laughter at his ridiculous performance. Tears gathered in the corners of her eyes as Jack waggled his eyebrows and threw her sultry looks, his whole face alight with uninhibited joy.

By the time the truck rumbled up the driveway of the cozy two-story home, they were both doubled over in unbridled laughter. Jack killed the engine but left the music playing softly, the tinny sound of the singer's voice drifting through the cab.

Wiping a mirthful tear from her cheek, Y/N watched as Jack's expression softened into one of pure tenderness. He reached out to tuck an errant curl behind her ear, his fingers lingering to trace her jaw before cupping her face and drawing her in for a sweet, lingering kiss on the cheek. She melted at his unhurried affection, her heart swelling on the receiving end of such gentle adoration.

From outside the truck, one could hear the quiet murmuring of their voices and Jack's baritone humming snatches of the song's melody. His broad shoulders hunched as he ducked out of the cab before rounding the front of the truck.

The driver's side door groaned open, and Jack's scuffed air forces crunched on the paved driveway as he hurried to open Y/N's door, gentlemanly offering his hand to help guide her down from the elevated cab.

Jack gave Y/N's hand a reassuring squeeze as they started up the driveway toward the house. The warm breeze ruffled her floral sundress, the lightweight fabric swaying around her calves as they climbed the gentle slope.

Jack's parents' yard was immaculately kept - the grass a lush, emerald carpet, meticulously trimmed hedges lining the path. Vibrant flower beds brimmed with a kaleidoscope of colorful blooms nodding in the breeze. It was picture-perfect, like something out of a magazine spread.

As they drew closer, Y/N could make out two figures standing at the top of the porch steps. An older couple, the woman's hands planted firmly on her hips in a scolding posture as she appeared to be lecturing a tall, younger man who could only be Jack's brother or cousin based on his uncanny resemblance.

They seemed oblivious to the approaching pair, attention fully focused on the sheepish-looking boy shuffling his feet in front of them.

Y/N tugged on Jack's hand, leaning in close. "Jack..." she murmured, grasping tighter to his reassuring strength.

He glanced over, following her line of sight up to the porch before giving her fingers another comforting squeeze. "It's okay, I'll be right here with you," Jack said lowly. That unwavering confidence bolstered her, and Y/N nodded uncertainly before continuing their approach.

As they reached the bottom of the porch steps, the older couple finally seemed to notice their arrival. Ellen and Jim's expressions immediately transformed - the scolding looks melting into warm, welcoming smiles as they rushed forward with open arms.

"Jackie! There you are, son," Jim bellowed in a jovial tone, pulling his son in for an embrace before turning to Y/N with a wink. "And you must be the young lady who's captured my boy's heart."

"Dad, come on!" Jack groaned, a pink hue blossoming high on his chiseled cheekbones as his father clapped him firmly on the back.

Ellen wasted no time in swooping in to greet Y/N, taking the younger woman's hands in her own calloused grip as she looked her over appraisingly. There was a kindness that crinkled the corners of her eyes as she met Y/N's nervous gaze.

"It's so wonderful to finally meet you, dear," Ellen said warmly. "Jackie hasn't been able to stop talking about you since he came home from the trip." She shot a conspiratorial wink towards her son, who ducked his head sheepishly.

Before Y/N could respond, a boisterous voice rang out from the porch. "Well, well, if it isn't the golden boy himself!" The tall, broad-shouldered man lumbered down the steps, arms spread wide. "Did you really think you could come home without getting the official Lucas McManus welcome?"

Jack had barely turned before he was enveloped in a bone-crushing bear hug, his brother's meaty arms constricting around his ribs. "Ugh, Luke, get off me, you big lug!"

Luke released him with a barking laugh. "Good to see you too.” His mischievous gaze landed on Y/N hovering by Jack's side. Before she could even draw a breath to introduce herself, he stepped forward and swept her into a surprisingly gentle hug, taking care not to crush her slight frame against his hulking form.

“I’m Luke, jacks younger and cooler brother,” he stage-whispered conspiratorially with an exaggerated wink.

Y/N couldn't help but giggle at his antics, feeling some of the nervous tension bleed out of her shoulders.

…

The family dinner was a lively, boisterous affair. The rustic oak table seemed to groan under the weight of the hearty spread - a thick slab of prime rib taking center stage, surrounded by heaping bowls of roasted potatoes, buttered vegetables, and fragrant yeasty rolls.

once they settled in, knees knocking together in the tight quarters, Luke wasted no time launching into a series of merciless chirps and good-natured ribbings directed at his younger brother. Jack took it all in stride, giving as good as he got with his own sly digs and underhanded compliments cloaked in insults in that unique way only siblings could manage.

Ellen tutted disapprovingly at their antics, even as the corners of her lips quirked up in an amused smile. "Boys, not in front of our guest!" she lightly scolded, placing a reassuring hand on Y/N's arm. The warm maternal weight of it was instantly comforting.

Across the table, Jim met Y/N's eyes with a roguish wink and a conspiratorial grin, his chest puffing out proudly as he watched his sons' spirited back-and-forth like it was the culmination of some legacy lineage of brotherly torment.

As dinner progressed in that rambunctious fashion, Y/N couldn't help but marvel at how the Hughes clan seemed to speak in an entirely separate language comprised of inside jokes, dramatics, and endless affectionate insults and barbs flung without malice.

She struggled to get a word in edgewise, but found herself thoroughly charmed by the liveliness, the evident closeness, the constant undercurrent of deep love and acceptance.

At one point, Ellen set down her fork with a measured look towards the two brothers. "So...any prospect of grandchildren to spoil rotten any time soon?" She asked with a perfectly arched brow and a sly smile.

Luke barked out a raucous guffaw, slapping his palm on the table. "Are you kidding, Mom? Quinn's still halfway in the closet. My money's on him!"

He missed Jack shaking his head decisively, arm tightening possessively around the back of Y/N's chair as he pulled her subtly closer to his side. "No, no. It's gonna be me for sure," he stated with conviction, bold gaze flickering to catch Y/N's eye. "Quinn's too old and only cares about hockey these days."

Y/N's heart slammed into her throat as the implication settled over her like a weighted blanket. She couldn't tell if the flush burning her cheeks was from mortification or if Jack genuinely meant what she thought he did. Before her mind could spiral any further down that path, she jumped at the opportunity to escape when Ellen began collecting plates.

"Let me help you with those dishes, Ellen," Y/N blurted, likely a touch too loud and enthusiastic as she shot out of her seat.

"Of course, honey," Ellen smiled warmly, stacking plates into Y/N's anxious hands.

Y/N rounded the table hastily, Jack's furrowed brow and worried eyes following her retreat from the dining room. She clutched the dishes tightly, using the porcelain edges to ground herself as she followed Ellen through the swinging door and into the sunny kitchen.

A tense silence fell over the remaining family members before Jim cleared his throat loudly, catching the attention of his two sons. He swirled the ice cubes in his glass contemplatively.

"So..." he began, leaning back in his chair to fix Jack with an inscrutable look. "How long have you two been together?"

Jack's cheeks flushed pink, one hand reflexively rubbing the back of his neck as he avoided his father's steady gaze. "Uh, five months or so," he admitted shyly after a pause. "I'm actually going to ask her to be my girlfriend tonight...officially."

Luke let out a low whistle, clapping Jack firmly on the shoulder with one meaty paw. "About damn time, big bro! We were all starting to wonder if you'd ever settle down with one girl."

From the kitchen, Y/N could hear the muffled sound of Jack's embarrassed groan and the raucous laughter that followed. She gripped the edge of the counter, knuckles whitening as her heart rate kicked up another notch.

Girlfriend. The term sent her head spinning anew. She had assumed their relationship was casual, a fleeting rebound in the wake of Jason's toxicity. But now Jack wanted to make things official...permanent. How could she say yes and move forward when she was keeping something this big from him?

"Everything okay, dear?" Ellen's soft voice cut through the spiral of Y/N's thoughts. The older woman regarded her with a concerned furrow of her brow as she diligently started on the pile of plates.

Y/N managed a jerky nod, willing her features into a placid mask as she reached for the dishtowel to help dry. "Yes, of course! I just...needed a breather from all the family energy out there," she tried to joke.

Ellen hummed knowingly in response. "They can certainly be a handful, that bunch. But they mean well." Her gaze sharpened as she studied Y/N's tense profile. "Jack cares about you an awful lot, you know. We can all see how smitten he is."

The warm weight of Ellen's eyes was too much. Y/N twisted away under the guise of grabbing another dish from the rack, blinking rapidly against the telltale sting of tears threatening to well over.

… After skillfully avoiding any further emotional conversations in the kitchen, Y/N felt a bead of sweat trickle down her spine as she and Jack made their way towards the front door to leave. Her stomach twisted with nerves and unspoken truths.

"You'll have to come back again soon," Ellen insisted, enveloping Y/N in one of her warm, motherly hugs. There was an underlying knowing look in her eyes as she squeezed Y/N tight before releasing her.

Jim stepped forward next, pulling Y/N into an embrace and patting her back fondly. "It was wonderful to finally meet the woman who has our Jackie so dugzamped," he said with a wink towards his son.

"Dad!" Jack groaned in feigned exasperation, though his cheeks flushed with a mix of pride and embarrassment.

Luke saved the most boisterous goodbye for last, sweeping Y/N up in a rib-crushing bear hug that left her feet dangling inches from the floor. "You take care of him, you hear?" He mock-scolded with a roguish grin, mercifully setting her back down before ruffling Jack's hair affectionately.

Jack batted his brother's hands away, straightening his mussed clothing with as much dignity as possible. He looped one arm around Y/N's waist, pulling her into his side reassuringly as they finally made their goodbyes.

The walk back towards Jack's truck seemed to stretch out interminably. Y/N's body felt like it was operating on autopilot as she let Jack guide her with a firm hand at the small of her back. Her mind raced with doubts and fears, rendering her temporarily mute.

It wasn't until they reached the driver's side door and Jack turned to face her, cupping her cheek tenderly, that she finally surfaced from her spiral with a full-body startle.

"Hey," he murmured, brows furrowed with concern. "You ok? You checked out there for a bit."

Y/N stared up at him mutely, her mouth working without any sound coming out. Get it together, she firmly told herself. Taking a steadying breath, she nodded shakily. "Y-Yeah, I'm okay. Just...a lot to process I guess."

Jack's features softened with understanding, replacing his tense expression to a gentle look of empathy. His thumb traced slow, comforting circles on her cheekbone, the roughness of his skin a stark contrast to her soft cheeks.

"Come on," he murmured softly, his voice steady and reassuring, "let's get you home."

…

"I think my mom might like you more than I do," he said with a chuckle, a hint of playful jealousy lacing his words. "She’s made me kinda jealous stealing all your attention. Family dinner will not be happening anytime soon I’ll tell you that much."

"I hope that’s true Jack," she replied softly, eyes reflecting the admiration she felt so deeply for him. "She’s amazing, I wish my mother was like her. She’s genuine and kind, I’m jealous of you." her eyes drifted down to her hands, she winced at the broken skin and bloody cuticles from her abuse. "I feel like everyone our age now has such shitty parents ya know," she muttered.

"Come on don’t say that sun," he urged gently, reaching over to grasp her hands in an attempt to stop her picking at them.

Jack's grip tightened on her hands and he shook his head firmly.

Jack's eyes narrowed and his brows furrowed, the corners of his mouth turning downwards in a serious expression. He looked at her with concern, a hint of sadness in his gaze. "I hate hearing you talk like that."

"I’m serious Jack, really," she insisted, her free hand nervously toying with a loose thread on her dress. "I'm happy you have a good family. They did so well raising you, I can tell."

"You’re making me nervous," Jack admitted with a sheepish grin. "Do you always talk about your boyfriend’s parents like this? We’ll be like that one day,” he mused dreamily, "a few babies, home full of love... I can imagine it now; they look just like you."

"A family?" she repeated back. Y/N's heart pounded so hard she could hear it in her ears. The mere suggestion sent a chill down her spine, her breath catching in her throat. Images of vulnerability and responsibility flooded her mind, each one more terrifying than the last.

"Uh yeah... I’m sorry it just slipped out," he stammered apologetically, the smile falling from his face. "I didn’t mean to be so weird about it... I’m sorry. Just forget I said that whole thing." he pleaded, his eyes darted around nervously, avoiding direct contact with Y/N's as he spoke, his face flushed with embarrassment.

"Actually, no I didn’t,” he interjected suddenly, his eyes searching hers earnestly. “Yeah, your boyfriend... I want to be your boyfriend officially. I really like you and catch myself thinking about you all day; what you’re doing, new places I can take you... I want to be with you as more than friends." He paused before adding softly, "I knew the second I saw you in that coffee shop... I want to be your boyfriend if you’ll have me of course."

“Jack we can’t," she whispered sadly, avoiding his gaze.

"What?" His voice cracked with disbelief.

"Jack… You can’t date me." Her eyes brimmed with unshed tears as she continued hesitantly, "I really like you too Jack; god you have no idea...” She swallowed hard before confessing, “I wanna be in your skin half the time but it’s just that now's not a good time for me to be involved in that way...” Her hands trembled slightly as she spoke.

“I see what you have, and I don't want to ruin that,” she confessed tearfully. “You have a good healthy family people all around you...” A single tear rolled down her cheek as she added in a barely audible whisper, “I have no one but Heather...There’s no one there for me. If I dated you, I would just feel like I’m dragging you away from all the people who love you so I won’t be alone."

Y/N's eyes shimmered with unshed tears as she looked away from jack. He searched her face desperately, hurt and confusion writ large across his features.

"And all of that makes you not want to be with me?" he asked hoarsely. "You don't wanna be with me?" Jack swallowed hard, gaze boring into hers intensely. "Was it tonight? That made you realize that? Did I make you uncomfortable?"

He scrubbed a hand over his face roughly. "I won't ever talk about kids again if that made you upset," Jack rambled, words tumbling out in a rush. "I just...we've been so happy. I was lost in thought and couldn't stop talking."

Y/N shook her head vehemently. "No, you didn't do any of that, Jack," she insisted, reaching out to clutch his arm. "I'm happy you feel that way, so fucking happy you even see a future with me."

Jack visibly deflated with relief at her reassurance, only for the tension to reset his shoulders as conflict flickered across his expression. "Then what is it?" he demanded, the hurt leaking into his tone now.

"How come you don't want to be with me? I assumed we were getting serious. You just met my family. I've been with you for five months and I've never felt like this for anyone in my life." His voice cracked with raw emotion. "No one has ever made me feel so loved or appreciated the way you do."

Tears spilled over Y/N's cheeks in shining rivulets. "I wish I could be honest with you," she choked out in a whisper. "Tell you the reason why I can't. But you'll just hate me for it."

Jack's features contorted in an anguished wince, and he surged forward to frame her face in his calloused palms. "Don't think so little of me," he pleaded gruffly. "I feel like I'm saying all the wrong things. Was it too soon to tell you how I feel about us?" Jack's eyes shimmered as he searched hers beseechingly. "Please. Just...what do I do now?"

Y/N squeezed her eyes shut against the swell of regret and pain lancing through her chest. With tremendous effort, she extricated herself from Jack's grip, shaking her head. "I'm sorry, Jack," she rasped, backing away from him. "I really am, but I think I should go."

A stricken noise punched out of Jack at that, his hand reaching out as if to physically stop her retreat. "Please don't leave me like this," he begged, voice thick with unshed tears. "I don't know how to be without you. I don't wanna learn how to do that right now. I want you with me. Please."

The anguish etched into every line of his expression was like a vise around Y/N's heart. She longed to close the distance, to soothe away the hurt she caused with her touch, her words. But she couldn't. Not when she was such a mess of half-truths and lies.

"You deserve so much better than what I can give you, Jack," she forced out, barely choking back a sob as she turned away, unable to look at him any longer. "You're such a great guy, I don't deserve you. You're too good. The next girl you find will be so much better than I could ever be, and I hope you see that eventually."

Y/N swallowed hard, mustering the last of her tattered composure. "Good night, Jack."

...

Tag List <3

@fearfam69691 , @alwaysclassyeagle , @rebelatbay , @dancerbailey3 , @skepvids , @flowers-for-em , @hischierswhore , @ivy-34 , @bunbunbl0gs , @snailss , @ru-kru , @shawnshoney

[jakeotters]

scott x reader where they have insane sexual tension and everyone notices (and is fed up) but them so they keep forming elaborate plans to get them alone together

Next Time (scott miller x reader) part I - 18+ MDNI

warnings: sexual tension, swearing, scott being scott, not enemies but not friends to lovers, eventual kissing, eventual smut

a/n: i thought i’d put a twist on this request and make it a multi-part fic! i hope anon doesn’t mind that it’s not specifically the pov from the crew/other chasers but rather the tension filled journey between scott x reader :,)

my inbox is open for requests! rules for requests are on my pinned post :)

part two (coming soon)

This wasn’t your first season chasing with Scott. You’d first met him at a little gas station in the middle Oklahoma. Scott’s rigid demeanor intimidated you, but your friend Javi had practically pushed you two together. Your first chase with Scott was tension filled and awkward, you could tell he didn’t exactly respect you.

That was 3 years ago, and now, you were more than used to Scott’s dull personality. The tension-filled relationship had only grown between the two of you, but neither of you cared to admit how you felt to each other.

“Which cell is it gonna be?”

You’re standing in a gas station parking lot, holding an iPad in front of Scott, a radar image pulled up on the screen. The rest of the Storm Par crew was dispersed around their vehicles and Javi was off somewhere, you assumed he’d gone to get snacks and drinks for the crew.

“You tell me.”

Scott’s answer was short and direct. You knew this game- he’d let you choose and then tell you that he thought otherwise.

“West.”

You inquired, your response just as short and direct as Scott’s.

“You sure? East looks better.”

Scott’s eyes met yours from under his sunglasses. You couldn’t see his eyes, but you knew they glistened with cockiness.

“I’m always sure.”

You rolled your eyes at him, putting the iPad at your side. Javi came running out of the gas station, plastic bags in his hands. He stopped to give bags to other members of the crew before making his way over to you and Scott.

“You guys want snacks?”

Javi held two bags in front of each of you.

You took a bag from him and peered inside— all of your favorites. You smiled.

“Thanks, Javi.”

Scott took the second bag and muttered something that sounded like a thank you before walking to your chase vehicle.

“Where are we headed?”

Javi asked, but you could tell he already knew the answer.

“West.”

You winked and smiled at him before turning and walking to the SUV.

—

“I’m tired of your little game, Scott.”

You broke the silence in the vehicle. It was a silence you’d gotten comfortable with, you knew Scott wasn’t one for small talk or casual conversations- especially with you.

“What game?”

Scott’s eyes were trained on the road in front of him, Javi’s truck not far in front of your SUV.

“The whole ‘East looks better’ bullshit.”

You adjusted in your seat. Typical of him to act like he didn’t know the way he treated you. You heard something that sounded like a scoff come from him.

You expected an arrogant response but it never came. You wondered if you’d caught him off guard with your declaration.

“It’s been 3 years, Scott. I can understand not liking me, but you should respect me. I think I’ve shown that I deserve that, at the very least.”

You knew you were venturing into dangerous territory by the way his jaw clenched and his eyes narrowed. But, you were almost eager to push his buttons- to tell him everything you’d bitten back for 3 years. You wanted to be mean to him, drill the words into him and break him down like the times he’d broken you down for making simple mistakes.

Again, no response. You wondered if he was doing this on purpose, making you sit in his silence while he plotted how he was going to pull you aside and belittle you after the chase.

“I don’t dislike you.”

After a few minutes, his words cut through the silence. Your mind did a full stop.

“What?”

“I don’t dislike you.”

Scott repeated. His eyes darted to you for a second before returning to the road. The words cut through you. Everything you’d ever assumed he thought about you had just been squashed.

The familiar silence returned. You weren’t sure what to say, or even what ro think. You stared at the yellow lines that split the road into two lanes. It felt like they went on forever.

—

“Hey, good job today. Sorry we didn’t get anything.”

Javi handed you the key card to your room. The two of you stood in the parking lot of a cheap motel. The rest of Storm Par had either gone to their rooms or were dispersed throughout the lot, talking with other chasers or cleaning out their vehicles.

“Oh well. There’s always next time.”

You managed a half smile. Sure, you were disappointed, but you were tired and ready to be away from everyone.

“Yeah- well, goodnight. See you tomorrow.”

Javi smiled, patting your shoulder before walking off. You almost felt bad for keeping the conversation short but you were glad to be left alone. You started walking to your room, ready to be in the warmth of a bed.

“Hey.”

You heard a voice behind you. You swore you let out a curse under your breath before turning around. Scott was standing there, clipboard resting under his arm.

“What?”

The word came out harsher than you’d meant for it to but you didn’t care. This was supposed to be your time, you just wanted to be away from him.

“East looked better.”

You stood there. You bit your tongue, holding back the long line of curses that threatened to spill from your lips.

“You followed me over here to tell me that?”

You managed, turning to walk away from him. You wanted to be away from him.

“Not so fast.”

He caught your arm with his hand.

“You aren’t always sure.”

Asshole, you thought. You knew he was doing this on purpose, this was just another one of his ways of giving you shit, but you weren’t in the mood.

“Fuck off.”

You shrugged out of his grasp.

“Why? Is there somewhere you need to be?”

Scott tilted his head, crossing his arms in front of his chest, clipboard resting under them.

“Yeah, there is. Away from you.”

You spat, walking away from him again.

Scott watched you walk away for a moment before following you.

“I said I don’t dislike you. This is what I get for that?”

You scoffed.

“Then why do you treat me like shit?”

Scott shrugged.

“Because it’s fun.”

You stopped at the door to your room and turned towards him again. His arms were back to his sides. You were almost too tired to care about what he was saying.

“I see. Goodnight.”

Sarcasm dripped from your voice. You turned to put the key card in the lock. You opened the door and slammed it shut, leaving Scott standing outside like a dog on your doorstep.

You quickly changed clothes and climbed into bed. The softness of the sheets and warmth of the blankets instantly relaxed you. You closed your eyes, enjoying the peacefulness.

—

You didn’t know how long it had been before there was a knock at your door. You ignored it. There was another. You opened your eyes. Sighing, you turned on the bedside lamp and got up. You unlocked the door, not even bothering to see who was there before you did. Opening it, you felt every ounce of peace fade away.

Scott stood there in his black undershirt and a pair of sweatpants, a plastic bag in his hand. His curls hung in the low light of the hallway. It was rare you saw him in anything other than his white Storm Par button up and perfectly ironed pants. You hated to admit that he looked good.

“Wanted to give this to you.”

He extended the bag towards you. You blinked at him. Maybe if you blinked enough, he’d go away.

“Take it.”

Scott held up the bag. Wanting him to go away, you took it from him. You pushed the door shut when his hand stopped it, pushing it back open.

“Where’s my thank you?”

He raised an eyebrow.

“Thanks.”

You rolled your eyes and shut the door.

You opened the bag. A few of your favorite snacks were inside, along with a note. Curious, you picked up the note.

There’s always next time.

- Scott

“Asshole.”

You said out loud, putting the note back in the bag and throwing the bag on the table by the door. You climbed back into bed and turned off the lamp. You closed your eyes again, sleep finding you not long after.

[lovebugism]

first time having sex with eddie pleasepleaseplease

bug's blurb sleepover (⁎˃ᴗ˂⁎)! 18+

The first time you and Eddie have sex, he gives you a paper ring.

It’s made of the delicate wrappings of a straw. He’d gotten it for his drink at the diner, ripped off the end of it, and blew it square in your face, then laughed when you tried to do the same to him.

You couldn’t get the trajectory quite right, though, and decided to count your losses.

When he retrieves the pieces of forlorn trash from your end of the table and twirls it around in his hand, you figure he’s just fiddling with it. That it’s some absentminded thing he’s doing because his mind is always so preoccupied with one thing or another. Then he reaches for your hand across the table and takes hold of your left hand. 

Your fingertips are ice-cold, he finds, from where they’d been clutching the ribbed glass of your milkshake. He holds onto them anyway, and slips the twisted piece of paper onto your fourth finger. It’s tied at the top like a ribbon with a large knot at the center like a ring. 

You don’t realize the sentiment in it at first. You think it’s some party trick, like tying a cherry stem with your tongue or making a paper crane out of a napkin. 

Then Eddie smiles at you, a big, dumb, and sparkling grin — “Let Henderson try to make fun of us now, sweetheart. It’s finally official.”

Your eyes widen at the realization. 

Eddie used to call you his wife as a joke. It started as a way to get free meals at fancy restaurants you couldn’t afford. Then he saw how it made you blush and he did it just to make you laugh. It became a habit he couldn’t break sometime thereafter. The rest of Hellfire teased him to no end about the whole thing.

But it’s official now, or so he says. And you know it’s not real, not entirely, but suddenly you’re sad that it isn’t. 

Eddie steals your milkshake and lifts the lip of the glass to his mouth rather than use the straw. He smears whipped cream all over the tip of his nose and his cupid’s bow. You realize you can’t imagine spending your life with anyone else.

The thought doesn’t scare you as much as you thought it would. And you know that you’re just a couple of kids who don’t know a single damn thing about the world, but you know that yours would be so empty without Eddie in it.

You keep the ring on the rest of your lunch and flaunt it like it’s the real thing. It may not be made of metal with a too big diamond at the center, but the sentiment feels the same.

He takes you back to the trailer a little while later. Eddie makes sure to tell you how pretty you look sitting in the passenger seat of his van while he goes a world over the speed limit. You scold him for not paying attention and he blames you for distracting him.

Wayne’s truck is gone from the drive when you get to Forest Hills. It’s the first time you’ve had the trailer to yourselves and the realization sends a sick feeling swirling in the pit of your stomach — an elation, an apprehension, a shiver of anticipation.

And things weren’t tense exactly, nothing between you and Eddie was ever tense, but it was a foreign edge of a different kind. Things were unusually charged, like, sexually. It was just the thought of having the place to yourselves, of what couples usually did when they were alone. It left the both of you silently stewing over whether or not to take advantage of it all.

But you manage to keep things fairly innocent despite the distant, lingering libido that purrs like a roused sleeping dragon in the backs of your mind. 

The post-lunch fatigue hits the both of you like a ton of bricks, and you peel off what little you’d put on for your short trip to the diner most innocently. In nothing but oversized t-shirts and less than sexy underwear, you crawl into his bed and slip off to sleep without thinking.

That, coincidentally, is when things bubbled over.

You wake first some hours later. The setting sun has started to coat Eddie’s bedroom in various shades of orange You rise only because of the way the boy shifts behind you, sliding his hips over your back and gripping your waist with his fingers only for them to go lax a moment or so later. 

He tangles himself with you and it’s all perfectly normal. Eddie tends to shift in his sleep and the only way he can ever be content, it seems, is when he’s holding you like a teddy bear.

What isn’t normal, though, is the very apparent erection nudging at your lower back. 

“Eds…” you murmur, voice still groggy and heavy with exhaustion despite your alarm.

The boy, still half asleep and unknowing of the brick in his pants, mumbles back a lazy “hm?” 

He shifts again as he becomes more aware of his surroundings. It isn’t until his sensitive cock brushes against you that he notices how alarmingly hard he’d gotten in his sleep. He tenses, utterly mortified, before he feels you rock back against him. 

It’s intentional this time, knowing, and it lessens his fear but certainly not his hunger.

You press yourself further into him and twist your neck to look over at him. With tired eyes and heavy mouths, he shifts over you and catches your lips in a kiss. It’s lazy and slow, simmering with a cozy warmth. It doesn’t take either of you very long to wake up.

He presses a hand to your shoulder and rolls you onto your back, propping himself on his elbows to rest his weight on top of you. In your adjustment, lies a five-second pause that manages to feel like a moment’s blink in time and an eternity all at once. It’s as blissful as it is terrifying, the moment just before the kiss, the feeling when you know it’s about to happen.

Your eyes dart between his darker ones in a silent question. Eddie answers it with a searing kiss.

His knuckles brush against your buzzing skin as he strips you from the top you wear. You lift your hips to remove your panties after, while he rises to remove his own shirt. He tugs it up and over his pale torso, spotted with patches of hair on his chest and belly and fading tattoos.

“This was bound to happen, huh?” he jokes with a grin.

You bite back your own wide smile that threatens to take over your mouth and watch with twinkling eyes as he maneuvers his boxers down his legs without standing up. His hard cock bounces to his stomach, grateful to have been released from its confines. It glows an angry red at the tip.

“Are you complaining?” you retort playfully as he leans back over you again — both of you fully naked, bare chest pressed to bare chest.

The ends of Eddie’s hair tickle your jaw as he shakes his head. “Hell, no I’m not complaining, sweetheart.”

Lust swallows the two of you whole and blankets the room in a heavy heat. It’s all tongue and teeth and scorching touches. You flip yourself over for him suddenly, pressing your face into his pillow, and leaving the rest of you perfectly on display for him. 

Eddie is all too happy to admire the view as he takes you. His eyes remained locked on your ass, trained on the way you swallow his cock and how you meet his unpracticed thrusts with ease and diligence. His nervous hands are nearly numb where they clutch the dip of your waist. 

You peek over your shoulder at him, a playful and eager glint in your eye. Your smile widens when one of his hands lifts to swat your outer thigh. 

He was no stranger to this position — doggy style. In fact, the few girls he had fucked before you, he’d taken this way. But none of them were girlfriends. They were one-night stands from The Hideout or girls who used him to pass the time. He never minded how impersonal it felt before now. Because even with his cock nestled within you, closer than he could possibly be to you, the distance still feels like too much.

The breathless moans you exhale into the pillow cease when his hips still.

“Could you—  Can you, uh… Can you roll over?” he stammers, chest heaving as he tries to catch his breath.

As lame as he feels in his request, you comply without thinking. 

You feel empty when he pulls out of you, warm again when he gets you on your back and looms over you again. You don’t mind when he presses his weight into you. Instead, you pull him somehow closer, catching him by his jaw to pull him into a devouring kiss that has him chasing you back into the pillows.

Your legs hook around his waist, keeping him locked into you though you writhe something fierce beneath him. Your hips roll with each of his unhurried thrusts, exhaling heavily against his mouth every time he presses into you.

“Eddie…” you breathe through lusted pants. “Please. I need… Need more.”

He doesn’t know why you’re begging. He’s never denied you of anything before. He doesn’t plan on starting now. Eddie wants to give you everything you want all the time — even when he doesn’t exactly know how to.

He ruts his hips harder than he had been before, with a pace far quicker than the relaxed thrusts he’d been given you. And it becomes obvious how greatly he’d undermined his strength when his pelvis presses into you and drives you up the bed. The crown of your head meets the wall with a dull thunk that echoes through the quiet, golden room.

Eddie stills immediately, blanching and gaping in fear.

“Ow,” you whine lowly, then laugh at yourself and him and the situation entire. 

You let Eddie cradle the back of your head as his fingers dance through the strands of your hair, rubbing gently at the sore spot of your skull. “Not that much, Eds…”

It makes him feel like a fumbling virgin all over again.

“Sorry,” he apologizes, wincing for you. He presses a sheepish kiss to the tip of your nose, rubbing the buzzing skin of your waist with the hand not pillowing the crown of your head. 

You’re healed instantaneously by all of the softness of touch.

“It’s okay,” you promise with a distant smile. “I asked for it.”

After your assurance (and then some), Eddie gets back into the swing of things. Distantly, he’s still terrified of hurting you again, but he gets so drunk on the praises that spill so effortlessly from your mouth to care. 

Your honeyed words are entwined with moans of his name and fragile whimpers as you near your peak. It catapults Eddie to his own orgasm. When you come, you do it with your fingers wrapped in the umber strands of his wild hair. Your walls flutter and tighten around his cock and your hands tug at his curly strands, hard — it drags him down right along with you.

He tenses and stills against you, whining and whimpering with his eyes squeezed shut. He fights to keep himself from bucking too wildly against you while you milk him and moan his name like it’s some prayer. You drive him crazy without even trying, reduce him to a puddle of nothingness with ease.

He flops less than gracefully beside you all over again, pale chest heaving with uneven breaths and curls clinging to his sweating forehead. The two of you fight to catch your breath.

You’re not looking at him. Your eyes have long fluttered shut as you revel in the aftermath of your orgasm, feeling like you’re not all there. A lazy smile pulls at the corners of your mouth and you exhale sharply, stuttering breaths in the place of a laugh. 

He can’t take his eyes off of you. You look ethereal and filthy, a heavenly being and a succubus from hell. He’s amazed by you, confounded at how an angel like you could wind up in his bed like this, somehow more in love with you than he had been just minutes before.

“I’m gonna marry you one day,” he promises out of the blue, voice heavy and far away from himself. 

And Eddie so often speaks candidly. He’s honest to a fault, saying things he knows he probably shouldn’t — but that? That catches even him off guard. 

But you don’t seem all that surprised by his words. They make you laugh, actually, eyes squinting and nose crinkling when you finally peek over at him.

Eddie’s still too far gone to laugh with you, but the corners of his lips quirky slightly.

“I thought we already were.”

You lift your left hand to remind him of the ring he’d tied to your finger just hours ago. The paper has slackened around the joint. The knot isn’t as tight as it had been before, hanging loosely at the knuckle. The edges are frayed and ripping in some places. But it’s still there.

And when it tears completely, he’ll make you another. And another. And another.

Until he can replace it with the real thing.

[tangent101]

Have we gotten Rachel wrong this whole time?

There are plenty of theories about Rachel Amber in the LiS community. Some folks like to think of her as a manipulator who only was out for herself. We have others who think she was deep in love with Chloe and would never cheat on her and everything she did was to get her and Chloe out of Arcadia Bay. It seems like everyone looks at Rachel and sees something new. But… what if we were all wrong? What if Rachel was something else… someone who tried avoiding conflict by talking to people and agreeing with them… and thus everyone saw her as they wanted to see her?

There is actually some evidence toward this in the game. First, Chloe herself points this out, though in a way that is perhaps less than flattering: "She blended like a chameleon. Clearly more than I knew… or wanted to know…." People take this as to Rachel was able to see what makes a person tick and just become the person that someone else wanted… but we can see several people who had a rather negative view of Rachel. So what is it about those people that had a negative viewpoint of Rachel?

First, we have David Madsen, who detested Rachel and saw her as a bad influence and a criminal. He was investigating Rachel and had photographs he felt were of her being a drug mule. Next, we had a truck driver who talked about Rachel really wanting to get out of town. And of course there is Mark Jefferson who also had a… twisted view of Rachel, though it also seems Rachel was so enthralled by Jefferson that she may have been sleeping with him (and both Stella and Victoria seem to be interested in what's going on in Jefferson's pants as well, though I'm not sure why, he's not that charming).

The truth is that Rachel was something other than a manipulative gold-digger or the like. She were a teenage girl who disliked conflict and was adept at listening to people and when talking to them would agree with them? I mean, consider her two breakup letters, one to Frank and one to Chloe? Rachel so wanted to avoid conflict that she left a letter to Frank because he scared her. She did not want a fight. She wanted out. So she left… with a note basically giving her reasons and essentially ending things. (Frank thankfully accepted that.)

Chloe also got a letter. Honestly… given it was all crumpled up, I half-wonder if Chloe had read it while high one time and crumpled it up and forgot about it afterward. But we have a very important line here: I don't want you to hate me. I don't want you to hate me. That's a very interesting thing to say. There is no deliberate malice, this is someone who has found someone else who just rings all those bells but wants to keep the friend aspect. She still wants the laughter, the moments of sharing a glance and both having the same thought, the things she envisions friends do… but to walk away from the sensual intimacy.

Remember what Victoria Chase said to Max in the Dark Room, that she was just a teenage girl? That's Rachel. Rachel Amber was not a seductress or a narcissist or a monster. She was a teenage girl who was avoiding conflict in her life, but in doing so ended up in a shallow grave in a junkyard. Because quiet girls don't make history… they end up used, abused, and discarded. They end up on the rooftops willing to throw themselves to their deaths because no one would listen to them. They end up abandoned because they were not good enough, because they ultimately were not willing to stand up to those who would use them.

Max, before Chloe reentered her life, was one of those quiet girls who ends up used and discarded. The reason folks keep seeing Rachel in Max is because Rachel stayed quiet and let people make up their own minds about her. And they saw in her what they wanted.

Or at least, it's one way to interpret Rachel Amber.

[fluffypotatey]

evil swk only it's him finally fed up with everyone hurting mk so he kills the latest villain of the week and takes the powers of the Jade Emperor for his own thus: Monster (epic)

oops, hands slipped!

He meets MK on accident. Sun Wukong does not make it his ordeal to wander where mortals are near, but sometimes needs must. his little Suns have chosen to pester him about this specific brand of chips (how they ever got their hands on a bag of chips in the first place is a mystery of itself), so after hours of twisting his arm, Wukong obeyed their pleading cries and whines.

the accident came when Wukong found himself run over by a meager delivery cart. the boy, probably only two decades old, hopped off his death kart immediately, apologies spilling from his lips while Wukong debated throwing his disguise down the gutter and raising this whole block to the ground.

“—you have to understand! The Megapolis Grand Prix has a grand prize of an immortal peach and I thought I could both race and deliver, you know, kill two birds with one stone and all that but—“

“I don’t really care, kid.”

The mortal was quick to shut his mouth and nodded. Another apology was thrown out while Wukong dusted off the spare dirt from his clothes, and he was pretty sure the mortal made sure to follow him back to the safety of the sidewalk. It was a little overbearing, but Wukong was trying to keep a low profile for the sake of a stupid bag of chips. He would rather not bring Heaven or any other celestial’s attention to himself.

The things he did for his monkeys.

-

He met MK again on New Years. Again, his little Suns sent his out for a task— apparently, some idiot decided to teach them what noodles were and Wuking spent months suffering while they bemoaned and cried about it.

There was a plaza full of food trucks, so Wukong figured he’d find noodles over there somehow.

“Oh! It’s you!”

Wukong was startled by the smile, how it spread wide, so easily like a trained soldier (except soldiers were more fixed and lacked the warmth this smile gave). The mortal stood behind one of the windows of a truck, apron tied around him.

Wukong grunted put a hello.

“Can I get you anything?”

“Eight helpings of noodles.”

“Wow, that’s quite the haul! Got a party or something?”

“More like a family of rascals.”

The mortal laughed, quickly writing down the order before placing somewhere near the kitchen. There followed some indignant shouting about the order while the mortal— MK, the cool called him MK— placated and answered all the cook’s questions.

“It’ll be ready in an hour? Maybe longer.”

-

The third time, he found MK through his monkeys. A mortal, they had chirped at him, a mortal on the beach! Color him surprised when it was his mortal he found. How he got past the volcanic mountains was something he figured MK would tell him when he woke up.

And, boy, did he ever.

MK told Wukong of his old sworn brother, the Demon Bull King, and the would-be Spider Queen. Two demons who found it in their heads that Megapolis was their city, and neither were keen on sharing. And both seemed to believe that their solution was a secret weapon hidden in Wukong’s vault.

“And we thought— my friends and I— that if we found it first, then they wouldn’t be able to.”

It was a hilarious story. One Wukong made sure to laugh at in MK’s face. Because really, why would either demon think they had the balls to invade his island?

“I’m serious! We need to find it now or else they’ll—“

“Tell me, MK,” Wukong spoke, keeping a bright smile on his face. It was different from the ones MK would share. Less genuine and more senile. “How much do you truly know about me?”

Finding the terror in the mortal’s eyes shouldn’t have been endearing, but Wukong would argue that after receiving plenty, he was open to judge them all. While MK was slow on the uptake on who he was talking to, he was a quick learner in figuring out just how dangerous Wukong could be.

In the end, neither of the demons stepped foot on his island. And if he had to twist their arms a little to ensure there would be no future attempts of them sneaking in, that was between Wukong and them. The fact that a little delivery boy was included in that clause was neither here nor there.

-

The fourth time was when Azure made his appearance on Wukong’s island, smiling and laughing as if none of the past millennia had ever happened. Wukong played a good host to his old brother even while his skin crawled and his little Suns whined. But that all came to pause when out of Azure’s scroll came MK and more of his old brothers.

“So you used him,” he asked, eyes closely watching the mortal shake and tremble (he was mumbling something too but Azure was speaking too loudly).

“We needed someone on the inside in order to retrieve the rest of our brothers. With all of us here and reunited, we can finally put Heaven in their place!”

Wukong tilted his head. “What of the Bull King?”

He watched MK flinch when Azure scoffed, the mortal clutching his robes tighter. He was still in shock, but it would not last long. The new buzz of magic told him as much.

“He has forsaken the cause.” There seemed to be more but MK finally cracked.

“You said we’d free my friends.”

Wukong raised a brow, watching Azure’s careful sigh and friendly smile.

“And we will, but there is something I must do first. You have to understand?”

MK shook his head. “You promised. I’d go in the scroll and free my friends. You said you’d help me—“

“And I will, MK.”

“No you won’t.”

All eyes faced Wukong. He saw as Peng rolled their eyes, ever the dramatic one, but Wukong chose to ignore him.

“Azure is too set on his goal of overthrowing the Emperor that no other task will matter until that endeavor is complete.”

“And we will complete it. Wukong, you are not one to be so glum.”

“A lot has changed.”

“So much that you would turn your back once more to us?”

Wukong watched as MK’s eyes pleaded at him.

“I would.”

-

Given that he was the last one in possession of the missing memory scroll, the Diyu was quick to point their fingers on Wukong and claim MK as his accomplice. How they came to that conclusion was, quite frankly, insane and stupid of them. Wukong told them as much while they placed him on trial.

“And yet there is no other living soul we can find.”

“Well, duh,” he sniffed, keeping MK behind him at all costs, “I killed them all.”

“So you could have it for yourself?”

“Because they threatened my subjects.”

This one king was starting to get on his nerves. All his questions seemed posed to specifically point all attention on MK and Wukong refused to bring any attention to him. He’s not blind, there was obviously something mystical with the mortal. What exactly, he wasn’t sure. He could just hear Macaque lecturing him about it. As if that shadow monkey knew anything! He just spent most of his time trying to steal the attention of Wukong’s subjects like the asshole he was!

“And so why was this mortal involved?”

Again, the same king. He was a strange one, his magic not exactly the same as the others. Wukong was not liking the look of him.

And it turned out his instincts were right. As the trial continued and he asked more questions, the King began to call MK the harbinger, a title MK seemed to recognize and freeze at.

But in the end, none of their words held any good defense. Not that Wukong expected anything different. In fact, he was excited for it. Both the Diyu and Heaven have dreamed of shackling him down once again ever since his first havoc. So, when the chains came to shackle MK as well, Wukong felt he was excused enough to start a little mayhem.

Or a lot.

Actually, a lot, a lot.

It was only a pleasant occurance that Heaven chose to bring Wukong up to their realm and place him before the Emperor. And if said Emperor threatened to erase MK out of punishment of Wukong’s behavior?

Well.

Who is to say that Wukong is not excused from cutting that old goat down to size?

[hils79]

Hils Watches Lovely Runner - Ep 16

Can't believe I'm at the end already. I forget that althought kdrama episodes are long there's a lot less of them

Of course he escaped. This dude really is like the terminator

Going under the cut because I don't want to spoil the ending

Well in a twist of irony he got hit by a truck and knocked into the river, which is what he did to Im Sol before this drama even started. I'm assuming he's not coming back from this and the rest of the drama will be about Im Sol and Sunjae sorting out their relationship

Oh. I thought that was going to take longer. There's still over an hour left to go on the episode!

They are so damn cute I can't deal with it

Poor Taesung. While Im Sol and Sunjae are snuggling and being adorable he's all beaten up and feels bad that someone died that he was chasing. He's a good boy. I want him to be happy.

Sunjae: I want to buy cake for my perfect girlfriend but no one can so we're dating so I'll just buy cake for everyone. I'm so smart.

I love him

I love that he's acting all cool but we all know what a nerd he is

I don't care how sweet and handsome he is if someone started pokling me while I was trying to write that laptop would be coming down on his head

Like that

I was going to use my usual congrats on the sex gif but they are still fully clothed so I guess they just snuggled

Yeah, I'm glad that they're all happy and in love now but I think they both have a ton of trauma that they probably need to work through at some point

I love that even Im Sol joking about them being married made Sunjae's brain go offline

Made his brain go offline and made him decide that actually, yes, he does want to marry her. LOL I can't wait to see how this conversation goes

I love Taesung so much

Aww they have to get drunk and bond in every timeline

I know they're a band rather an an idol group but imagine being at a baby's birthday party and BTS or someone like that shows up to perform

I love grandma so much

Yeah, I'm, crying too

He had his 5 minutes of being a cool celebrity and now he's back to being a dork again

I'm really glad they haven't gone down the route of 'she has the man she loves and that's all she needs for her happy ending'. Look at her being awesome as a movie director. Love it!

Heh that looks very similar to the software I used to when I tried to learn video editing. Ironically I decided it was too time consuming as a hobby so I decided to do gifmaking instead which is just as time consuming

Aww yay! I really enjoyed this! I don't watch a whole lot of het romance dramas but I'm really glad I watched this one. I absolutely loved it!

[wexhappyxfew]

Also! 29 on OTP dialogue for Annie and Brady?

HI JAMIEEEE!!! thank you so much for this other prompt as well!!! sorry it took a bit to get to! :) i must say, this idea swirled in my head for a bit and then, when i felt things in writing were finally going the way i wanted them to, i felt ready to post this!! thank you again!!!! :D

a little while longer

(a/n): for the annie x brady girlies, with a mix of angst and fluff all at once!!! to say the least, these two have my whole heart and just !!!!!! there was an anon awhile back talking about brady freaking out if he ever saw annie injured or wounded in the slightest way - and well....here ya go! prompt: don't lie to me. i was there.

The soup was probably the best thing she could've had in that moment - despite what little warmth this place provided, the soup was sure to give her enough strength to keep her going. She'd been up most of the night with a nasty, wheezing cough, her nose running and her throat sore as all get-out. Now, with her stomach feeling sour, nose run red from the amount of times she'd wiped it, she felt like she'd been drug behind a truck and tried standing again. But, for now, this little bowl of soup was making her incredibly happy.

Annie looked up and towards where Brady was, sat taking up spoonful after spoonful of soup himself, getting every last bit her possibly could. She had to admit, she was worried about him more often than not - because he spent the majority of his time worrying about her, especially in the past few days. So seeing him eat his fill and focus on himself, settled her for the time being.

"Guys. Guys!" yelling started down the hallway, along with a banging all along the wooden walls of this sad excuse for barracks. Annie met Buck's eyes from beside her at the table and watched as everyone in the tiny bunk room looked towards the doorway to find Benny DeMarco racing in, eyes wide and bloodshot as he made an attempt to catch his breath.

"What is it, Benny?" Bucky said, pushing up from where he leaned against a bunk, forgetting about his soup and focused on the rather frantic nature of Benny there in front of them. Benny took a minute to catch his breath and then pointed outside.

"They got a new group comin' in. Margie may be in that group. We gotta go look." he said quickly, before disappearing again out the door. Annie watched that now-empty doorway and slowly turned to meet Kennedy and Bessie's eyes - there was something unspoken between the three of them that the boys hadn't entirely clued into or focused on. But coming in as a woman was one thing; having survived that level of interrogation was another.

Margie had to.

She had to be in that group.

She was more hopeful than half of them combined.

"Let's go." Annie said, moving to her feet, buttoning her coat and wrapped that scarf around her neck, "C'mon." She was the first out the door, hurrying down the hall, a few echoing footsteps behind her as she pushed outside and attempted to seek out Benny in the crowd. She caught sight of his beanie, and began, rather slowly, moving through the open area towards the gates.

As she got closer, she watched, as if in shaky, frantic real-time capture, as Benny moved along the fence, yelling out, over and over again, before tearing around the edge of the wiring and disappearing into the crowd.

Annie felt her face grow cold and stoic, her shoulders pressed high, her chin pointed up. Her heart pounded as she turned around the edge of the gate and found Benny there on the ground, pulling a rather fragile looking, collapsed, corpse of Margie Harlowe on the ground, her face bloodied, her clothing practically hanging off of her form, and her one shoulder looking twisted in all the wrong places. Then, standing over them, was whom she could only assume as one of the German soldiers who had been begrudgingly dragging Margie along.

This was one of her girls, her flight engineer; bright, sunny Margie, with that beautiful blonde hair that was now all haphazard angles around her shoulders, bright blue eyes that were red and filled with tears and beautiful rosy cheeks that were scarred and bloodied.

Annie slowly looked up at the German who stood silent and still, overtop where Margie was half alive in Benny's arms, her cries weak and pained, Benny's comfort only doing so much to erase the pain of reality.

Annie couldn't take it anymore.

She took three, wide steps forward right into the German's face, without much thought for her own self and stared up at him, her body rigid, her eyes narrowed.

"She's already half-dead," Annie practically spat out, "did you really have to drag her in the dirt like a dying dog!" Any sort of celebration and welcoming immediately went quiet as people turned to look at the female lieutenant who was currently losing it on one of the Germans. Annie's throat tightened.

"How can you just stand there!" Annie managed out again, but she knew she had messed up long before she even had opened her mouth. She should've stayed with her soup, let Benny handle all this. But she couldn't. This was one of her girls, this was Margie Harlowe.

Without warning, the German had grabbed her by the shoulders and swung her around him right into the dirt, her body hitting the ground with a rough whimper, her eyes closing at the pain shooting through her body.

"Annie, don't," came Margie's quiet cry.

"Don't touch her." Benny said, his voice drowned out by the sudden kick of the German's booted foot into Annie's side. She curled into a ball with a strangled cry, tears squeaking out of her eyes, her body begging for some sort of reprieve that wasn't this.

When the German had stepped away, angrily spitting down on her, she heard yelling and a commotion somewhere behind her, which was enough to make her sit up, weakly at that, looking past Benny and Margie in his arms and a few stragglers hanging about.

There, just past them, was Brady, screaming and yelling, being held back by Bucky and Murphy as best as they could hold him, Brady's eyes dead set on the German officer who walked away casually and calmly. Annie turned her quivering eyes to Brady again and watched as he broke free of the bodies holding him back and stomped across the open bit of land, taking his hands on the front of the Germans uniform and slamming him against the rusty wiring, yelling, over and over.

"Don't you dare fucking touch her again!" Brady yelled, his voice sounding like a wild animal's, guttural and raw, as the German yelled back, "Don't lie to me. I was there! I saw you hit her! Don't touch her again!" It didn't take long for the German officer to yell something in German, before swinging at Brady, sending him to the ground.

The brawl turned into a power struggle, the German kicking and punching Brady there on the ground, Brady all but weakened and defenseless. Finally, the two were separated and bodies were left behind and the few groupings that had been out were left behind by the Germans, only watched by guards in the towers. Annie watched as Bucky helped Brady to his feet, Brady struggling to find his footing, before ignoring any possible help, as he ambled over to Annie.

"Annie." he managed out, his voice sounding weak as he collapsed on the ground beside her, his hands reaching forward - he was always reaching for her, they always were with one another - and placing themselves against her cheeks, his thumbs rubbing in circles, "He should've never have hit you. I swear to fucking-"

"John." Annie whispered, slowly bringing her hands to his own cheeks, "You've gotta calm down."

"Not when they hit you, Annie. He did it because he-"

"John." she managed out again, "I'm okay. It's…..Margie." Brady watched her and some sort of realization seemed to hit him. He knew how important the women of Silver Bullets were to her, beyond anything, beyond even herself.

Slowly, the two looked over to Margie there, wrapped in Benny's arms, those tears running down her bloodied cheeks, grasping onto Benny like it was her lifeline. Annie managed to pull herself to her feet, Brady beside her, their hands linking to one another for some sort of support, before she fell to the ground in front of Benny and Margie, her hands shaking as she reached forward. Margie flinched at Annie's touch, her eyes immediately welling with tears - what could they have done to you?

"Hey, Margie, it's me." Annie whispered, reaching her hand forward and softly cupping the girl's cheek, brushing her thumb over her pink, wounded skin, "You're okay." Margie looked up at her with those water-filled blue eyes and let out a croaky cry, reaching up a free hand to lay gently against Annie's hand and nodded.

"I can't believe….I found…you all." Margie managed out, "Benny saw me first……I didn't want anyone to get hurt." Benny let out a quiet, wet laugh, as if holding in any tears he was trying not to shed. Annie looked to Brady, whose face had grown soft and gentle. Brady watched Annie, his face full of love and adoration, that same look she'd gotten the privilege of seeing anytime he watched her.

"You didn't have to go beat up any Germans, Brady." Margie managed out, her hand still grasping Annie's tightly, "You're too kind." The three of them laughed again at Margie's words, before Annie's eyes filled with tears and Margie seemed to notice.

"Don't cry, Bradshaw, I'm still here." Margie said softly, "Look at me."

"I thought you were dead," Annie managed out, her throat filled with emotion, "I should've looked for you….tried to get you to safety-"

"Don't go saying that, Bradshaw," Margie managed out, before letting out a wet, rattling cough, "I got to see Brady beat up a German for a bit. It was worth it."

"I promise it felt just as good as it looked." Brady said quietly.

"Don't give yourself that much credit." Benny offered and the group fell into small bits of laughter again.

By the time they'd gotten Margie up and in the comforting arms of Benny and Bucky who had come racing over like a bat out of hell, Annie had turned to Brady, looking at him bathed in cold sunshine, his face more stressed and sunken in these days, but still the Brady from that first day on base. They watched one another and she smiled slightly, reaching up to run a finger beside the cut near his eyebrow.

"Let me help you dress that," she whispered quietly, her hand cradling his cheek, as he watched her, "thank you for doing that." Brady clenched his jaw.

"He shouldn't have even touched you."

"I shouldn't have gotten in his face. I shouldn't have said a word-"

"You did the right thing, Annie, I know that. They gotta have a little humanity in this place."

"There's barely an ounce of that here." she whispered, voice sorrowful and sad. Brady watched her, before bringing up a hand to clasp around her one against his cheek. For a second, it looked like Brady was going to say something else, but he bit his tongue and continued to watch her instead.

"Does your chest hurt?" he whispered to her, "I'll help you wrap it. I'll scrounge some bandage."

"Only a little," she whispered back, "I'm more worried about your chest. He hit you pretty hard." Brady smiled softly at her and stepped forward, cradling her face in his hands, his beautiful eyes on her own.

"Let me take care of you." he whispered to her, "Let me hold you, just a little while longer." Annie stared up at him and flitted her eyes across his face and lips, before settling on that scar again.

"Only if you let me wrap up your chest." she whispered back to him.

"Only if I can wrap yours." he said back. She stared at him and then smiled softly, nodding, "Is it tender?"

"I'll be okay." she whispered, "You know that."

"I know." Brady whispered, "Sometimes I just….." Annie watched him, her big eyes holding him in her gaze, watching as he watched her back, their emotions hitting a head.

"What?" Annie asked quietly, her voice hidden it felt by the sweeping winds this place had. Brady couldn't get his eyes off her it felt, and like it were the most delicate thing in the world, he pulled her into his arms, probably the warmest hug she'd had since arriving here, and stayed like that. Her heart raced in his embrace and as he pulled back, she looked up into his face right in front of her and licked her lips. The corner of his mouth lifted upwards and she felt her body shiver. Something pulled her closer, she wanted to be closer than they already had been.

"Hey!" Brady and Annie seemed to bounce apart, and they turned to find Bucky walking closer, all smug, hands in his pockets, "We're gonna get Margie comfortable."

"Right." Annie said, stepping back and smoothing out her normally, crumpled clothes, catching Brady's eyes for a second and then pushing her hair behind her ears, "Let's go." She hurried away, towards where Benny was still walking with Margie, as Bucky came to Brady's side. Brady stared at Bucky, who smirked and clapped his shoulder.

"What?"

"Nothing, nothing," Bucky said, "quite the dragon slayer though, huh."

"Shut up."

"You tell her yet?"

"Shut up, Bucky."

[semthescientist]

In moments like these, you wish not to be saved. When your back is pressed firmly to the metal wall of a cargo truck, lips puffy and wet, and cunt full and stretched — you wish nothing more than for the city of Ergastulum to lay claim to you in the way Nicolas does. When his hips retreat briefly and snap forward with powerful thrusts, you're convinced that the tingling sensation settling deep within your bones is the last few ounces of innocence leaving your system.

The rigid, pulsing veins of his cock glide against your sugary walls; earning the most guttural groans from the Twilight. There is something so primal and animalistic in the way he takes you; whole and unapologetic. The way his thick cock splits you apart, heavy balls tightening with each precise thrust. He likes it like this, and you know. Even through your bleary vision, you can see the corner of his lips curl into a wicked grin — dark orbs fixated on the sticky covering that coats his shaft. This very fact makes your head spin while Nicolas' forceful exhales become all too deafening.

"Nicolas," you mewl out. "I really can't."

Nicolas can sense the shattered vibrations of your voice which gently guides his gaze from the mess in between your legs to your love-bitten lips. His thrusts are slow in effort to read your lips, and after he does, he decides that you can. He doesn't communicate this to you through words expressed in his uneven voice but rather his quickened strokes and same twisted smile. Thick forearms hooked under your pliable thighs and his climax approaching ever-so closely, Nicolas marvels at the idea of making you his personal fucktoy. Seeing you this way, breasts spilling from your thin pathetic t-shirt and eyes screwed shut as he mercilessly drills into your needy cunt — he decides you wouldn't be opposed to the idea.

Before the city was truly up, Nicolas was already spilling thick, white ropes of his seed deep within you. Before the city could birth more criminals and lowlives, you were already itching to become one.

[vaultdamned]

@mayormentats

THE OCEAN ABOVE IS BLACK, dressing the towering man with a coat made of night. footsteps traverse along the rotted ground, his shadow following behind like an obedient ghost. the silence is familiar; an old friend listening to the solemn rhythm of vincent’s heart beating inside his chest, unchanging in the air of loneliness some 200 years later. however, this particular loneliness fairs differently. self-inflicted, rather than forced. 

he tightens his grip against hancock’s freshly washed clothes, folded neatly & cradled by the weight of his forearm. blood still painted the fabric, splotches sized like pin-pricks; an effort made in vain, as no matter how much fluid could be scrubbed away, the reminder remained within the squint of an eye. 

mass pike tunnel e looms ahead, skyscrapers stretching high against the rubble, watching over the graveyard of cars — the phantom beeping of horns, panicking for evacuation, mimicks the echo of a piano player's notes from miles away. the past entertains the darkness as vincent continues forth, allowing the parade of memories to float on by like an unpleasant odor. mushroom clouds. radiated sulfur. sweat. 

the warehouse manifests out of thin air, a projection of reality outside vincent’s tunnel vision. he stops, standing beside a once bright yellow, now decrepit truck. hancock’s warning lingers in the back of his mind. don’t fuck with the lock. fine — but, part of him thinks he could break in no problem. most locks had a master system, & this one probably wasn’t any different – what a sight to see. vincent settled as hancock enters the space, finding his warehouse infiltrated, an all knowing, shit-eating grin greeting him from across the room. maybe even right inside the door.

No.

hancock’s tone turned serious at the mention of waiting. vincent’s wrist burned, remembering the pressure of hancock’s grab & the impression he’d left as he slapped that note into vincent’s palm,.the immortal man's breathing hitched in just that split second, caught off guard & distracted by the smell of cigarette smoke — which damn, why did he forget his smokes?

he flicks his head to the left, then the right, spotting a train car; its backside just inches off the track. he retrieves his knife as he paces forward, opening the side door with anticipation for an enemy, but it’s empty, save for a lone chair & a patch of stained wood. he holsters his blade. takes the seat. lays the clothes against the floor. leans forward, meeting his elbows to his knees. no way anyone would follow him out here, still, he wasn’t exactly on marowski’s goodside, especially after insulting his shitty handywork which nearly got vincent killed by the mayor of goodneighbor – or so vincent spun, leaving out many, many details -- details that held a power over him he could only relay as, haunting.

minutes pass & still he’s left to his own company, hiding inside a traincar. it’s expected, isn’t it? why would hancock give him any more than necessary of his deserved time? what gave vincent that right? bringing the clothes felt ridiculous now. this whole thing — god, he should have packed up & left when he had the chance, & there were plenty of them, still he stayed. couldn’t be hancock’s sake. perhaps for his own revenge? freedom from marowski? some deeply misunderstood alliance between himself & a betrayed friend? 

none of these harbored enough life; the reason was always selfish. 

the distinct jingle of keys alerts him. vincent twists his head up, his whole body lifting as if he’s tied to a rope that’s actively being pulled, then he grabs the clothes & inches closer to the edge of the traincar, peeking his head out, his brown curls brushing against the doorway. he’s spying on the earth, watching the front of the warehouse, waiting for his turn to appear like a rabbit out of a magic hat.

[catierambles]

Alternate Instincts Ch.31

gdi shadow why'd you wake me up at 6am

Stephanie was sitting on the couch, scrolling through her phone when Mike sat down next to her heavily, making her bounce a little on the cushions. He suddenly tipped sideways and she lifted her arms as he laid across her lap, looking down at him and his shit-eating grin.

“What?” She asked.

“We should go out tonight.” He said and she gave him a look.

“Yeah?” She asked and he nodded.

“A new club opened up downtown, themed on this old point and click horror game I played when I was a kid that went public domain.” He said, “I’ll be able to tell if Lewis makes an appearance and the place will be packed on opening night so we can disappear if need be.”

“Mike, he tried to stab you when we first met, remember?” She asked, “Not saying no, just saying we should bring one of the others with us just in case. Probably Geralt. He seems like the least likely to be miserable at something like this.”

“Geralt is so broody though!” Mike exclaimed.

“Would you rather we bring Sy and deal with him being all surly Army Captain? Or how about Walter with his bored sighs and manly glowers? Maybe August? Who gets into a right foul mood when he has to do something he doesn’t want to.”

“Good point.” Mike said, clicking his tongue against his teeth, “I can deal with intense brooding for a few hours.”

“That’s what I thought.”

Geralt wasn’t enthused with the idea, but he didn’t outright tell them no. He also let them know he was expecting a call from a fellow Tracker in Chicago, but it shouldn’t split his focus. Both men opted for their usual clothing, hoodie and a t-shirt for Mike, dark button-up with the sleeves rolled up the forearms and black jeans for Geralt. Stephanie stuck to something simple but more in-tune with a club vibe, a black halter top and tighter fitting dark jeans with black leather flats.

“You’re not going out like that.” August said, folding his arms over his chest and she rolled her eyes.

“I don’t call you Daddy, and you’re definitely not my father. Get over it.” She said and went to him, pressing a kiss to his cheek when he scowled at her.

“One moment.” Geralt said as they were about to leave, stopping Stephanie with a hand on her shoulder.

“Don’t tell me you’re going to get all pissy about my shirt, too.” She said and he gave her a look before pulling a chain out of his pocket. It was simple chain that looked silver, but it obviously wasn’t as he was able to handle it. Hanging from it was a ring, and it was the wolfs head ring Geralt wore for as long as she knew him. “Geralt?”

“We’ll talk when we get home.” He said, pulling her hair to the side so he could clasp the chain around her neck, the ring hanging down between her breasts. “I just want you to wear this.”

“But this is your ring.” She said, picking it up.

“I know.” He said, “We’ll talk when we get home. Come on, before Mike starts complaining.” They took Sy’s truck, Geralt driving, heading into downtown. The outside of the club was decked out like something out of a Clive Barker movie, with red lights accenting twisted metal and arcane symbols and there was already a line queueing outside.

Thankfully, the line moved quickly and they got inside without waiting for too long. Music thumped through the air, the inside decorated much like the outside and she saw several people wearing nondescript white masks.

“It’s what the monsters in the game wore.” Mike said, seeing that she had noticed. “The whole premise of the game was you and your friends were being hunted by creatures in white masks inside an old mental institution. The twist at the end was that one of your friends was one of the monsters hunting you. Who it was was based on who you played as. If you made it out, you beat the game and got the good ending. If you got caught, you died, and the death scenes were pretty graphic for the time. I think they used FMV with practical effects. If I remember right, the levels were procedurally generated, so they changed every time you played so you couldn’t just memorize routes.”

“What was it called?” Stephanie asked.

“Hellworld.” Geralt said and Mike looked at him in surprise, getting a shrug in return, “It was something to do between assignments.”

“My man!” Mike said and held out a fist. Geralt looked at it for a moment before bumping it with his own. “Fuck yeah.”

“Is that why you didn’t fight me about coming with us?” Stephanie asked with a smirk, “Because you’re also a fan of the game?”

“It was something to do.” Geralt repeated, folding his arms over his chest with a scowl, but it had no effect on her. She knew what he looked like when he orgasmed, a scowl wasn’t going to intimidate her.

“Uh huh.”

“Let’s get something to drink.” Geralt said, rolling his eyes, “Before I bend you over my knee.”

“You wish.” She said and Mike snorted, leading the way to the bar.

Mike eventually dragged her away to dance, leaving Geralt at the bar and he kept an eye on them, a small smile perking the side of his lips. She looked happy. He pointedly ignored anyone who tried to talk to him, sipping at his bottle of water.

His phone vibrating in his pocket made him look away from them and he dug it out, seeing the message he was expecting. Typing in a quick reply, he slid it back into his pocket, but when he looked up again, they were gone. Geralt pushed away from the bar, scanning the people in the club, but he didn't see them. A feeling akin to circulation returning to a limb crawled over his brain making his jaw clench. He knew that feeling and he knew it well. His phone went off in his pocket again and he dug it out, seeing the text from Mike.

911 back of club

He pushed through crowd, ignoring complaints and found the back exit, shoving open the door.

"Over here." He heard and looked over, seeing Mike sitting on the ground with his back against the wall. He was pale, his lips bloodless and his phone was on the ground next to him, the screen still lit up but tinged red. Geralt went to him, crouching by him and seeing his bloody hand covering his side, a knife still in him. "He took her. I couldn't--" He swallowed heavily, "I couldn't stop him." The smell of charred flesh reached his nose and Geralt growled, seeing the silver threading around the handle of the blade.

"I need to take the knife out."

"I couldn't stop him. He took her." He was starting to lose consciousness, his words slurring and his eyes closing.

"Mike!" Geralt snapped and he came to with a jolt, looking at him with wide eyes. "Are you ready?" He nodded and Geralt pulled a handkerchief out of his back pocket, wrapping his hand in it before grabbing the knife. "On three. One. Two." He pulled on two, Mike jerking and a low pained leaving through clenched teeth. He took his phone out, dialing 911. "This is Geralt Rivian, Tracker with the Pack Council, ID number 83742. I need an ambulance behind the club on Fourth and Main. I have a wolf who was stabbed with a silver blade. I removed the knife and he's still breathing, but he's barely conscious and has lost a lot of blood. I'm going to apply pressure to the wound to slow the bleeding, but he needs immediate medical attention." He hung up after getting confirmation, holding the handkerchief to Mike's side, "Ambulance is on its way, I need you to stay awake, okay?" He nodded, but he was already going under again, sliding to the side, Geralt catching him and easing him down to lay on the ground, his hand still to his side. "Mike! Michael!"

[valyrou]

hii can u write some fluffy cuddles or smthn with ghost and a male reader...everything is either f reader and there's very few gn readers for him im asking for crumbs at this point lolololollol

A/N: HELLO! It’s a short Drabble but I hope you enjoy <33

Reader is not in any special forces or anything, he is a citizen :) also I’m sorry I usually write Gn so I don’t mention the gender often, but I hope you still enjoy this ;D

Warnings: NOT PROOF READ LOL but otherwise none really? Maybe some suggestive smut but not actually implied, Gun is mentioned. If there is more please let me know ;)

Simon „Ghost“ Riley x (Male) Reader

Your partner Simon had left around 7 weeks now for some „super top secret mission“ or something. You knew he had to do this, that it was his job and all but it was like you started to grow distant. You loved him, but you weren’t sure if you could put up with this much longer. He left when he was called, even after he just had a mission. It was just frustrating, but you grew to live with it. Just recently you noticed your frustration with it.

It was around 8 in the evening when you heard noises from your front door. Immediately you rushed as silent as possible to your living room shelve, pushing some books away and grabbing the gun, ghost left for you in emergencies. You knew ghost was a known man amongst many other people like him, which put you in danger as well. People could look for you, kidnapp you or kill you, just so Ghost would be vulnerable enough to eliminate. Of course you two tried to keep things secret for the sake of you, but you could never know.

You held the gun close, slowly cocking the safety off and pointing it at the front door. You snuck behind the door just in time before the door opened. Slowly. So very slowly. Your heart was pounding like you’ve just sprinted 10 miles without stopping. A tall man in a hood walked in, almost sneaking in. You could only see the back of the strangers head. When the stranger was inside enough you put the gun against their back and closed the door „Identify yourself“ you demanded, yet in a calm and low voice.

The stranger didn’t move, slowly putting his hands up in the air before turning around, too fast. Way to fast for you to react in time. Your wrist got twisted what made you drop the gun and hissing at the pain running through your wrist. You tried to defend yourself but oh boy was the stranger strong. The tall man pushed you against the door, to your disbelief rather gentle. As your eyes looked with those of the stranger you gasped „Simon!“ you let out a sigh of relief

You didn’t have to see his entire face to see that he had a smirk on his face „We really need to resume your self defends training, love“ his familiar, British voice was like music to your ears. You chuckled and stood still for a second, taking all of him in before an idea came to your mind. You used his distraction to your advantage to pull him close, sneaking a leg behind his and sweeping him off his feet, causing you and him to land on the floor. Immediately you locked him in, you on top of him while ghost was on his back facing you. Your legs and thighs blocked his arms to his side so you really just sat on top of him.

„We have to resume what?“ you teasingly said while smirking at the Lieutenant. Simon didn’t say anything at first before chuckling. You didn’t really know why, if he really thought you surprised him or something else? Definitely something else because from a moment to another ghost had your legs locked behind him, holding them tight but not enough to hurt you. He lifted you up with ease and just walked to the bedroom, throwing you on the bed.

A shiver ran down your spine „Well.. maybe I do need to resume the training“ you eventually said. Exhaustion hit you like a truck in that moment. You didn’t realize how tense you were the whole time. You sat up and looked to your partner „Come to bed. It’s late“ your voice was less teasing, more like a whisper. Ghost came closer, eventually joining you on the bed. He reached for your face, caressing your cheek with one „I‘m sorry I took to long.“ His dark eyes locked in with yours, you couldn’t help but smile at him softly „It’s okay.. I will always wait for you. Always“ you assured him. You leaned into his touch before reaching for his face.

You gently pulled off his mask, revealing the face you fell in love with. You two sat there for a while before ghost grabbed the blanked and pulled you in. Your head laid in his chest, while his arms embraced your body. You breathed in his scent, fearing you will one day never smell the scent off your lover again. You closed your eyes and remembered why you never left Simon‘s side. You loved him. Unconditional love. It was Love that kept you going, love you felt for him that made you stay with him.

And ghost knew that. The way he held you was a way that screamed ‚I love you‘ and you valued it. Ghost wasn’t a guy that was good with words, it was the way he handled you, but even you knew that at times, Simon would express his feelings for you in words „I love you. I can’t believe what luck struck me when I met such an amazing man like you y/n“ he said. His voice a mere whisper as if it would break if he talked louder „I love you too Simon..“ you whispered.

His chest rose regularly up and down but his heard was beating fast. Fast for you. He stroke your back while big spooning your embrace. Your feet were tangled together as you slowly drift into sleep, but before you did you spoke your mind „Simon.. please don’t leave soon. Stay with me for a while“ ghost chuckled and sighed „I will. As long as I can“ with that conformation you drifted into a nice sleep. The nicest sleep you had in 7 long weeks.

[hobisstar]

What are you hiding from love?| Yandere!Jk x Reader IV

This will be short! But chapter V will be worth it I promise!

Summary: Being in a relationship with Jungkook you’ve always noticed the signs, the red flags if you will. Being so in love with him you ignored them, until the people you loved dearly started disappearing one by one.

Warnings: Murder, Jungkook victim blaming ( like he will say i killed you because you are too stupid or whatever), Possessiveness, Mentions of Smut, Controlling, Locking up YN.

Taglist: vante 🫶🏾

A/N: This is made to be scary! That is all. I honestly dont like mixing smut with yandere because i read yandere fics to be spooked not horny lol. This one will be simple as for the last part of the series will be more … horror ish?

Ever since the window incident, Jungkook has been feeling shitty to say the least.

He’s not enough for her and he knows that.

He hates to say it but he thinks it’s time to officially let her leave.

She was willing to brutally hurt herself to get away from him. She would rather die than love him.

Of course he’s doing this for her sake. He loves her too much to see her die or something worst than death.

While Yn was in the bathroom showering, Jungkook was packing her things. He already bought her a brand new apartment, which wasn’t too far from Jin. He knows Jin was going to keep her in safe hands and cause he’s the only person he trusted to ever be around yn.

She got out the bathroom fully clothed and froze when she saw plenty of bags and boxes packed nicely. Some empty some ready to be taped. Were they moving? She questioned.

Jungkook as if a psychic, he looked at her and smiled tiredly.

He hasn’t slept in a few days just up and thinking. “ No, we aren’t moving but you are.” He tried not to tear up he truly did but damn why did she have to taunt him with her life.

“I can’t have you…” he mumbled feeling the tears drop from his eyes. “ so… I have to let you go. I’ll feel better knowing that you aren’t with me.”

Yn was shocked yes but boy she really didn’t expect him to actually let her go.

It’s not that she wanted to stay, but she knew there had to be a catch to it. Why was he giving in so easily?

“ Jin will be coming to get you in a few hours once he gets off work…” he whipped his tears and turned to continue packing her things.

“ I’ll feel better if your with him to keep you safe.”

Yes, He wasn’t lying. He is going to let her go. But not just that easily.

He knows that If she’s alone she’ll be so lonely she would crawl back to him. She will want him back forgetting about all the things he did to those people who dared be in her presence.

“Thank you.” She blurted out which caused him to nod.

“I’m in over my head” is what Jungkook kept saying to himself while him and Jin loaded his truck with her things.

yn sat in the front seat shaking from excitement but also fear. Something just wasn’t right.

She could practically smell that something about this whole thing was just… fishy.

While in her thought process, The guys loaded the last thing up closing the trunk. Jungkook walked over to her side of the car looking at her eagerly.

yn was so deep in her on thoughts she didn’t see Jungkook standing in front of her. Didn’t even feel the vehicle start up and back out the parking lot driving away.

“She’s gone…” Jungkook said standing there lost. “ and she didn’t even say goodbye…”

He walked back into the apartment building going to the elevator and then getting off onto his floor then into his now empty apartment.

It wasn’t really empty but it felt empty. The one who kept it so warm was gone. Now it was cold.

Him and bam both looked sad honestly. Well, Bam looked like Bam. But Jungkook? Something twisted and turned in him.

Something pure demented. Evil.

He thought over and over again. He’d stop hurting others but without his reasoning to staying so clean, he had every reason to go torture someone…

“ I wonder what her sister is up to…” he mumbled staring off into space imagining how nice it would be to just hurt yns sweet but dumb sister.

He never liked her sister or any of her family. Hell her contact has the name ‘ No One’. He never cared for her.

He always imagined killing her then blaming it on that wack ass boyfriend of hers.

He smiled. The smile that he hasn’t seem to do since before he met yn.

Whatever he was about to do… it was good. 

[hermesserpent-stuff]

spoilers for caged spade au remy and rogue meet!!!!!

romance is something Im reallllllllllyyy not good at so here's my best meet cute i can manage!

Remy bounces a little as he stands in line. He knows that he is a little too excited for this book release. But he had been reading Austin Jaques, a famous gothic writer, for years and had been ecstatic to hear that his latest novel would be set in New Orleans. He is excited to compare what the writer has to say about vampires to what he now knows to be true from living in the graveyard of a holy coven. And to see if his beloved city is represented correctly. He had convinced Creed to let him join the line while the man when off to get hot chocolate. Which is a little nice. He normally loves having Creed right there as back up, but sometimes it is a little nice to be separated and get some breathing room.

He can still feel Creed through the empathic link, the man currently feeling a mix of amusement and boredom. Must be taking a while for a reason. 

Remy tilts his head a little, adjusting his sunglasses as he looks about. The girl in front of him shifts a bit head turning to the side to watch a truck go down the road and then she rubs her arms. Oh. shes pretty. And it looks like she had come alone to the event. Remy shifts a little awkwardly on his feet and then decides to bite the bullet. He wants to talk to more people and talking to a pretty mademoiselle is worth his time. Now… what to say, something not too intrusive but easy to spring a conversation from.

“Excuse me miss?”

Her shoulders tense as she turns and he can see the stance of a fighter coming through. Not obvious to everyone, but obvious to anyone who had experience. He makes a small waving motion while smiling and tilting his head, trying to show how little of a threat he is to her.

“I love your earrings, mademoiselle.” 

“Oh, uh, thanks! I got them a week ago.”

She touches the crescent moon that is hanging low from her left ear. 

“They go well with your boots.”

“Thanks.”

She smiles a bit at the additional complement, fight stance fading slightly. 

“So, Austin Jaques, good writer, non? Got a favorite book in the series?”

Only people who enjoyed the man's writing would be willing to stand in line alone, so it should be a safe question.

“Oh, uh yeah. Midnight Heist. It was a really good plot. The twist was really well done. You?”

Remy nods. That book had a good twist that was perfectly set up so that rereads made it even stronger. 

“That ones definitely top ten. I really enjoy Moon Stones. Dealing with the horror of all your falures to create as an artist coming back as monstrocities was interesting.”

She nods. They chat back and forth and shift to be standing side by side in the line rather than infront and behind.

“Im Rogue by the way.”

“Remy! Nice to meet you.”

They move on from talking about the books to sharing favorite songs and texting recommendations back and forth to be listened to in full later. Remy barely registers that he got her number, so wrapped up in talking to her and trying to keep that smile that makes her whole face light up right going. 

Then Creed returns and Remy happily greets him. He sees Rogue tense and Creed sniffs the air. Remy grabs his arm and pats it.

“This is Creed, hes my papa.”

No one else could claim that title now. Creed straightens a little and Remy relizes that he might never have said that allowed before. Remy feels joy swirling across the link and grins.

“Creed, this is Rogue! My new friend.”

Creed looks her up and down and then nods. 

“Hi. Dont mess with my pack and I won't mess with yours.”

“Yeah? You gonna stick to that?”i

Remy frowns and shoots her a look.

“Hey, there be no need for this. We all peacefully in line. Creed, she been real nice to me so far. And Rogue, this is my family… We can all be okay? Oui?”

He feels a tinge of desperation, his heart starting to beat louder. Creed chuffs and nuzzles the side of his head. 

“Yeah yeah. Not gonna do nothin’ kitten.”

He passes Remy the hot chocolate and after a second, gives the other to Rogue, a peace offering that seems to work.

[frracturedjaw]

Hi ! I was wondering if you could do either Thomas or Bo, with the prompt of the reader being hurt by a victim ?

warning(s): vomit, minor blood, brief canon-typical violence

a/n: bo does all the wrong things to care for a concussed person. i know this goes without saying with slasher fanfic but don’t do what this guy does

the bat collides with your skull, and color explodes behind your eyes. your head is void of thought, only something molten hot remaining inside. it might be dripping out of your nose. you whip around and grab the weapon with both hands, wrenching it out of the guy’s grip. the neon signs behind him are blinding, even though you know they’ve been getting dimmer for decades. he reaches to take it back, but you drive the end of it into his body. it hits ribs; not quite what you were going for. but he stumbles backwards nonetheless, giving you the second you need to flip the bat around and grip it properly. it sails down from overhead and cracks sharply against his trunk, folding him to the ground. you twist to check over your shoulder and almost go down next to him, your vision throbbing and tilting with the movement.

“Bo?” it comes out slow. you try again: “Bo, you here?”

“Yeah, ‘m comin’.” he calls from a nearby storefront. he’s still got that quiver of agitation in his voice. usually you’d let him cool off for a while after dealing with the tourists, especially a slippery bunch like these last few. but you’re struggling to get your eyes to focus, now. you squat and use the bat to prop yourself upright, waiting for him to drag another corpse into the street. you’re suddenly aware that the hot liquid dripping down your neck is blood, rather than sweat. then you’re on the ground. grit embeds itself into your bruised skin, and you can hear it crunching underfoot somewhere near your head. Bo’s face appears over yours, framed by the night sky and those insufferable neons. his hair slick with sweat, he looks downright handsome in this light. “you’re so pretty, Bo.”

“I asked if you’re okay.” Bo replies. you can only guess he’d been talking since you hit the ground. “get up, i’m takin’ you back to the house.”

you turn your head and curl up tight against the cold. and then it is dark.

Bo doesn’t panic. that’s not his thing. he gets angry, he throws shit, kills people, but he doesn’t panic. not up until now, at least. not until he sees your eyes roll back, the blood running in the crevices of your eyelids. his body’s in sharp, shrieking pain the whole time he’s yanking you off the ground and heaving you into the truck. but he can hardly feel it, with how fast his blood is thundering in his ears. he knows he won’t cry, not out in the open like this, but his chest is twisting in that awful, desperate way and won’t stop. he’s talking nonstop the whole way back. partly for you, partly for himself.

“we’re only a few minutes out. Vince should be waiting for us. I can get Lester up here, too. we could have him run out to town n’ get you something nice. some a’ that candy you like. getcha settled in bed, somethin’ cold to drink. i’ll find that shirt a’ mine you like. put on the tv. anything you want.” he goes on and on, as if he can convince you to wake up if he offers enough.

Vincent had been helpful getting the bleeding to stop, but Bo insists on attending to everything else. he keeps finding blankets from around the house, wiping off your face and hands, touching your forehead. he isn’t even sure what he’s looking for. he’s never really had to learn to care for a concussion. finally, he perches himself in a chair by the foot of the bed — his bed, he won’t have you anywhere else — and puts his head in his hands.

he can’t get the twisting to stop. the burning, sinking, nausea that hadn’t relented since you first passed out. what if you started bleeding again? what if you stopped breathing? what if you simply didn’t wake up? what was he to do then? he feels the knot crawl up into his throat, threatening a sob. he wants to tear it out of his body and crush it in his hands. he wants to feel its strength peter out between his palms, to destroy that part of him. he wants to break it. he wants to break anything. he wants you to wake up.

the sky goes from deep violet to the fiery pink of sunrise, and his eyes don’t leave you. his glare is frosted with sleeplessness, and he almost doesn’t notice when you wake.

a low whine crawls it’s way out of you, catching on dry throat and grit teeth. you barely get upright before you fling yourself to the edge of the bed to vomit, heaving dryly.

“hey! whoa, hey!” he calls out in surprise. he crawls up the bed towards you, smoothing his palm up and down your back. concern creases his face as you cough out the last of what was left in your stomach.

“g’morning.” you warble, peeking sideways at him. the movement of your eyes feels grating, and makes you gag again. his laughter surprises him.

“good morning to you, too, sunshine.” he replies, wiping your mouth on his sleeve. you wince and lean away when he touches the back of your head. “just let me get a look.” you groan when his fingers skim your scalp, and he can’t help but frown at the gnarled scab forming there. he should clean it, he thinks. he’s not sure how. he’s not sure if he should give you food and water or not. he feels something in his chest flex uncomfortably.

“m’tired, bo.” you murmur through your teeth. over your shoulder, he sees a tear drip from your chin.

“i know,” he sighs. “i wanna get you cleaned up. you’re gonna worry me to death, lookin’ the way you do.”

you can’t recall how he got you into the bathtub. all you know is how pleasant the cool tile feels against your skin. someone’s hand cupping over your brow as water flows over your head. quiet murmuring and sharp men’s soap smell. you’re struggling to decide if it’s sandalwood or something else, and then you’re gone again.

he has difficulty trying to get you into clean underwear, and opts for a pair of his boxers instead. he spends some time digging through the laundry scattered around, searching for the shirt. he has to swipe some dog fur off the front when he finally finds it. he’s not sure why you like it so much; it smells strongly of himself in a way that never quite washes out. it’s so old that he can’t remember where he got it from. it might have been from some old rock band, but the graphic is so worn it’s illegible. but he helps you lift your arms over your head and slip it on nonetheless.

you still don’t look right. your face is pallid and pulled into a subconscious frown. he grasps at his chest without knowing exactly what for. Bo had gotten used to the feeling of being in control.

[fandom-junk-drawer]

The Witcher Headcanon (Modern Au) - Error 404 Brain Not Found: Bonus Scene - Part 14

Geralt and Jaskier shuffled through the back door, arms loaded with bags of sodas. They headed straight for the kitchen and began unpacking.

It was D&D night, so Yennefer might not have thought twice about the large quantity of drinks they were hauling in. But there were two little details that set warning bells off in her head.

1. Geralt had already gone out two days earlier and bought drinks and snacks for their weekly game night. 2. Every single soda in the bags was Sprite. Both Geralt and Jaskier favored colas, and Eskel was the only one of the Witchers that preferred Sprite. What where they doing with all that Sprite?

Something asinine this way comes. Yennefer thought to herself as she eyed the men suspiciously from the kitchen doorway. Jaskier was openly smiling at her, eyes glowing merrily. Geralt was avoiding looking at her all together.

Dumbf**kery was definitely afoot.

"You want to play with us?" Jaskier asked excitedly, "We're going to do The Sprite Challenge!"

"The what--?" Before Yennefer could finish asking her question, Jaskier opened a bottle of soda and downed the whole thing in one go, pausing only to breathe and give the carbonation burn time to fade. Then he stood there expectantly.

Mentally trying to regain her footing, Yennefer glanced at Geralt. The Witcher was watching Jaskier excitedly.

The seconds ticked by.

Feeling as if she was supposed to give some sort of commentary, Yennefer said, "Er, congratulations? You drank an entire bottle of Sprite all--!"

The rest of what Yennefer said was drowned out by the almighty belch that erupted from Jaskier. It was long, loud, and carried the faint scent of lemon-lime. Geralt and Jaskier laughing ecstatically, gave each other a celebratory high-five.

What the h*ll, a girl had to have fun sometimes. Yennefer gave up trying to be the mature one, and joined her two idiots, cheering them on and recording the proceedings.

"Your turn, big guy!" Jaskier announced. Geralt nodded, twisted the top off a Sprite, and chugged it. The liquid swirled in a little tornado as it disapeared down Geralt's throat. There was a moment of silence, before Geralt made a noise like a Skellige fog horn.

Guffaws erupted, and the process was repeated, with time in between for stomachs and bladders to empty. While they waited for the next round, Jaskier and Geralt took turns trying to belch their names and various obscenities.

Geralt and Jaskier: * chug Sprite*

Jaskier: *bear with a bellyache*

Geralt: *Semi truck engine braking*

Jaskier: *sound like someone ripping a***

Geralt: *goose honk*

Jaskier: *sound like a toilet unclogging*

Yennefer decided to give it a try herself. Jaskier and Geralt cheered her on as she downed her soda. Seconds later, she opened her mouth and out came a string of garbled noises that sounded like the syllables of the blackest magic spell ever spoken.

"Holy f**k!" Jaskier laughed, tears streaming down his cheeks.

"Did you just curse someone?" Geralt chortled.

"Was it just me, or did you see snakes come out of her boots and a black cloud swirl around her?"

"Oh, f**k you both!" Yennefer grumbled.

"I'd rather *garbled burp* a nekker!" Jaskier retorted.

"That's not much of an insult, considering you'd f**k anything with a hole in it!"

Jaskier: *affronted gasp*

"Scr*bber!"

"B*llend!"

"M*ngebag!"

"A*semonger!"

Geralt decided to intervene before the tit-for-tat escalated. The Witcher chugged a Sprite, tossed the bottle aside, and assumed the belching position. The distraction worked, and Yennefer and Jaskier forgot about their bantering and waited with bated breath.

Geralt grimaced, and then *dying humpback whale noises*

The three of them immediately lost their sh*t. They howled maniacally, holding their sides and leaning on whatever surface was close by.

Laughing on a belly full of carbonated liquid turned out to be risky business.

Geralt and Jaskier both laughed so hard they spewed.

One minute Yennefer was laughing at the ridiculous noise Geralt had made, and the next, her laughter turned to exclamations of surprised disgust. Puke fountained onto the floor as Geralt and Jaskier chucked whiteys. It rolled and splattered, and Yennefer was just doing her best to get the h*ll out of the way.

The vomiting petered out, turning to dry heaves before stopping. Yennefer helped them to the living room, settling them on the couches, then went back to the kitchen to clean up the mess.

She was not one to use magic for mundane things that she could do herself, but this time, she made an exception. She was not going to clean up this mess by hand. She spelled the kitchen clean with a wave of her hand, then returned to the living room and her two dumba**es.

She knew their stomachs were probably feeling a bit queasy, so she cheerfully offered them something to help.

"Here, have some Sprite, it will settle your stomachs!"

*Symphony of groans*