#screaming and yelling but not because the noise would make it worse

[chronic-cane]

You know maybe the adhd med shortage wouldn't waste as many of my spoons if I didn't have to wait for the number to give "speak to the pharmacist" as the last option on the phone, then transfer me to a hold line with shitty music, only to ask "hey do you have this med in stock?" Which takes less time than the operator going through all possible options with 5 different advertisements for the pharmacy

Oh, and if my state didn't bar me from getting my paper prescription in the middle of the shortage. That would've also helped a bit.

[steddiealltheway]

1984 is not Steve Harrington’s year.

Not only does he find out that his girlfriend doesn’t actually love him, but somehow the creepy monster thing that united his now ex-girlfriend and her new boyfriend, came back in the form of some type of monster dog.

The highlight of his year might actually be befriending a nerdy middle schooler who introduced him to said monster dog - which he named Dart of all things... something to do with a candy bar.

He groans at the thought as the music from downstairs carries into his room. For some reason, Tommy Hagan decided to temporarily ignore the fact that he ditched Steve for the new keg king, Billy Hargrove, who managed to give Steve something else to worry about while literal Hell crawled its way into Hawkins, in favor of throwing a New Year's Eve party in the Harrington residence.

Typical for the year Steve's having. Why not end it horribly too?

He glances at the clock, relieved that it's already somewhat close to midnight. If it weren't for the noise, he would consider trying to sleep through this one. Instead, he lays back on his bed and hopes that no one tries to disturb him.

As if the universe can hear his thoughts, and then curse them, the door to his bedroom swings open.

Steve sits up with a huff and frowns at the person.

A guy with medium length curly hair and doe eyes stares back at him with a big smile that screams chaos.

"Sorry, dude," Steve says, "Bedroom is off limits. Go hookup, smoke, or whatever somewhere else."

Instead of leaving, the guy closes the door behind him and locks it.

Steve scoots back on the bed, hand reaching back to wrap around the nail bat he leaves behind his nightstand.

The dude raises his hands in mock surrender, silver rings glinting in the light streaming in from Steve's window - blinds open enough so he can make sure no one does anything weird in his pool. "Listen, man, I'm not here to hurt you or anything. Although you might hurt me when you hear why I'm here."

There's something about his voice that sounds familiar to Steve when it suddenly hits him - all the yelling and stomping around on tabletops. "You're Eddie Munson."

Eddie smiles and bows dramatically. "Guilty as charged."

Steve's frown deepens, and for a fleeting moment he thinks Dustin would really like the guy. "So, why would I hurt you if I hear you out?"

"Because, Steve," Eddie draws out his name as if it has a deeper meaning, "I was downstairs thinking about what a wonderful year I've had, and I decided that I might as well start the year with a little chaos."

Steve's grip tightens around the bat in case he's some sort of satanic serial killer or something, although his gut tells him that he shouldn't be scared of the man. "What do you mean by chaos?"

There's a strange glint in Eddie's eye when he shoves his hands in his pockets and rocks on the feet as if he wants to move closer to Steve but has decided to plant himself by his door. "I mean... I came to this party to sell my supply and after my whole lunchbox was cleaned out, I started thinking about who I should kiss at midnight. Or more precisely, who would be the worse option, or rather, the option that would bring the most-"

"Chaos. Yeah, I got that part," Steve cuts him off.

Eddie's smile changes to something genuine for a moment as he comments, "Wow, Steve Harrington is actually listening to me."

Steve rolls his eyes, grip loosening on the bat. "I'd rather you not stand on my desk to get my attention." To Steve's surprise, Eddie actually laughs in response and pulls a strand of hair in front of his face to hide his smile. And to Steve's much greater surprise, his heart starts beating a little faster and he finds it harder to not smile back at him. "So, chaos?" Steve prompts.

"Right," Eddie says, rocking on his feet again, "Chaos." He ducks his head for a moment as if hyping himself up for the next thing he's going to say, which is when Steve entirely releases his grip on the bat, realizing that Eddie is more scared of him. "So, I thought, to start the year off with the most chaos, I would choose someone to kiss that would bring the most chaos. And I thought, why not the host of this party?"

Steve frowns. "Tommy's downstairs."

Eddie mirrors his frown. "You're not hosting?"

"Why would I be in my room if I'm hosting?"

"Why would the party be in your house if you're not hosting?"

It suddenly hits Steve. "Wait, you want to kiss me?"

Eddie takes a step back, hovering even closer to the door than he was before. "Consensually, of course."

It takes a moment for Steve to fully process what is being asked. "You think I'm the worst option to kiss?"

"That's what you're asking?" Eddie asks, trailing off to mutter something like, "The fragile ego of athletes, I swear."

"I got dumped this year. Of course my ego is low."

Eddie smiles bashfully. "Sorry, my uncle always tells me I'm not as quiet as I think I am." And there's something about Eddie's cheeks that are slightly flushed, the strand of hair he starts tugging at again, and the way he can't stop bouncing as if he's buzzing with energy and nerves that makes him so...

"Yes," Steve blurts out suddenly. For a moment, he wonders if the mindf- mind fly? mind... whatever evil thing from a few weeks ago has possessed him.

"Yes what?" Eddie asks sounding genuinely confused. As Steve stands up to look out his blinds and shut them, Eddie rambles, "Yes, I'm not as quiet as I think I am? Or yes, you're about to punch me, and I'm going to finally figure out how it felt when you got your face bashed in a few weeks ago?"

Steve rolls his eyes before holding up both of his hands, mimicking Eddie's pose when he first came into the room. "Yes, I'll kiss you."

It's as if Eddie has forgotten he's asked the question the way his jaw drops, and he stares at Steve like he's said the most confusing thing he's ever heard. Which... to be fair... is highly likely.

"You want to kiss me?"

Steve takes a small step closer to Eddie. "I want to give you your chaos."' When Eddie doesn't look convinced, Steve takes a step closer to him, hand running through his hair as he continues, "Who knows, maybe it'll give me good luck or something for next year by cancelling out the chaos from this year."

Eddie nods. "Okay. You're giving me your chaos. Yeah. That makes sense."

"And you're taking my chaos away," Steve agrees, trying to tell himself that this is a rational decision. "This makes sense."

"You're not going to beat me up?" Eddie asks, risking a small step away from the door.

Steve shakes his head. "Seems like a bad way to start the year, don't you think?"

Eddie nods as Steve steps closer to him, slowly, as if not to startle him away. "You know, I thought just asking you would be chaotic enough as is and then I could run away and pretend you hallucinated or something when you tried to beat me up."

"Should've asked Hargrove then," Steve says, cocking his head to the side. "Does that mean you don't actually want to kiss me?"

Eddie swallows and shakes his head. "I didn't say that."

Just as Steve gets in front of Eddie, he hears people downstairs counting down from ten. "Good," Steve says, "Because there isn't enough time to find someone else."

Eddie scoffs, the countdown now at eight, "That's not true for you."

"Maybe, but I'm not really looking to find anyone else right now. Are you?" Five.

Eddie smiles and takes a step forward. "No." Three.

Steve reaches up to tuck a strand of hair behind Eddie's ear. "Good." One.

Steve's not really sure who moves first or if they move together, but the yells of, "Happy New Year" are drowned out as Eddie's lips meet his in a kiss that feels more desperate than Steve expected. He's not sure why they're kissing as if the countdown was for the end of the world, but he really doesn't care.

It's only when Steve's gets a little carried away, Eddie's back slams against Steve's door with a thud that's loud enough to alert anyone that something's happening in Steve's room, that Steve breaks away with a gasp, seeking the air Eddie's stolen from him. He wonders if - hopes - it's the chaos he's taken.

"Happy New Year," Steve whispers, hands cupping Eddie's face while Eddie's are tangled in the mess he's made of Steve's hair. He's not sure when either of those things happened.

"Happy fucking New Year, Steve," Eddie mutters, hands slowly dropping from his hair.

Steve's hands hold onto Eddie's face a little tighter for a moment, and he sees the moment a bit of fear sparks in Eddie's eyes. Steve quickly shakes his head. "No, I'm not about to beat you up. It's just... I kind of slammed you against the door a little hard there, and if someone else is up here and they see you..."

"Chaos," Eddie fills in with a nod, "And not the good kind."

"Yeah," Steve sighs, "Not the good kind." He glances to his window where the blinds are firmly shut - thank you Jonathan for teaching him that lesson - and down at the locked doorknob before looking back at Eddie. He glances at his lips momentarily before blurting out, "Stay with me."

Eddie's jaw drops, mouth opening slightly in shock.

Steve steps back, hands reluctantly leaving Eddie's face. "Stay until everyone clears out at least. No ulterior motive."

Eddie shoves his hands into his pockets and moves back into Steve's space. "What if I want there to be an ulterior motive?" He tilts his head down and gives Steve a case of lethal puppy dog eyes. "Fully take your chaos away, remember?"

Steve is absolutely sure that this in no way will take away the chaos of his previous year and will likely only invite questions, confusion, and further chaos into 1985.

"Yeah, I remember," Steve says, pulling Eddie into another desperate kiss.

Maybe Eddie was onto something about starting the year with a little chaos. And maybe 1985 will be his year.

(i accidentally wrote a tiny epilogue later in the tags that i really like)

[dollfacefantasy]

DREAM INCARNATE ♡

pairing: logan howlett x fem!reader

summary: you're all logan has left of the past. and when he has nightmares about that night at the mansion, you're the only thing that can keep him from falling victim to the memories that haunt him.

cw: nsfw (18+), smut, dubcon, p in v, thigh fucking, somnophilia, cockwarming at the end, nightmares, brief descriptions of blood, injury, and death

wc: 2.7k

kinktober slot: day 14 - somnophilia

The second he steps off the bike he hears your scream, and he already knows he's too late.

The sound echoes across the open expanse of land in front of the school. It's the two syllables of his name, shrieked with pure terror. His feet pound against the stone driveway as he begins sprinting to the main entrance.

Behind the school, an orange glow radiates. It flickers every few seconds, making shadows dance across the lawn in front of him. He knows it's from a fire. He could smell the smoke for miles down the road.

As he reaches the big wooden doorways, that scent morphs into one of blood. The metallic odor is so strong it nearly makes him nauseous. He swallows down his disgust though in favor of getting inside.

He couldn't be too late. He just couldn't be. Everyone's gonna be ok. It's bad, but not as bad as he thinks.

In a way, he was right. It wasn't as bad as he thought. It was so much worse.

His claws are out as soon as he swings the heavy door open, but it's in vain. There's no opponents there waiting for him. Instead, he finds Charles's wheelchair knocked over and empty. He swears his heart drops and his stomach hollows out. In his entire life, he never recalled feeling such horror.

He continues down the entrance hall. The interior of the building is quiet. All the noise, yelling and chanting, comes from outside, probably wherever that fire is. As he walks, he peers into rooms that have been left open. He sees blood smeared across the floor and spattered onto the wall. Bodies peek out from behind ransacked furniture.

When he turns the corner, he finds the first victim. Jean lies there, crumpled up and lifeless. He doesn't have to check on her to know she's dead. Several feet away against the wall Scott sits slumped over, also motionless and morbidly unresponsive. His glasses rest on the floor beside him, the right lens cracked.

He walks faster. The gravity of seeing his teammates like this weighs him down, but he has to get to you. He heard you. There's a chance they haven't finished you off yet.

On the way there, he passes Beast and Rogue and Storm and finally Charles, all in similar states to the first two of his friends he saw. Each one feels worse than any of the bullets he'd taken in his nearly two centuries of life. His mind grows frantic the farther he walks through the aftermath of the massacre. He's desperate to find you when he finally reaches the last room he hadn't checked.

The classroom with large glass windows along the back wall. It had always been your favorite. You loved all the plants in there and how sunlight bathed the room in warmth through those transparent panes.

Now, the desks that had been in neat rows pile on top of each other in haphazard clusters. The board at the end of the room displays some message about killing all mutants. He doesn't catch the specifics because he doesn't care. The only thing he can see is you, limp and mangled below it.

The words above are scrawled in red, and the puddle of scarlet surrounding you leaves no question as to what kind of ink they used.

When he gets to you, you're still twitching. Your eyes are fading, but for the moment, he can still see you inside them.

"I'm here," he chokes out, "I'm here, baby. You called for me. I'm here."

You blink slowly. Without seeing the surrounding scenery, it would look like you were just sleepy, waking up from a lazy afternoon nap. But unlike those occasions, your gaze doesn't hold any love. All he can feel radiating off of you is fear.

"Logan?" you whimper before coughing. Your chest rattles with the urge to clear the blood making it hard for you to breathe. He tries to soothe you through it as best he can, but there's not much he can do.

You regain yourself and continue on with what you had been trying to say.

"Where were you? Why didn't you help us?" you ask, tears gathering in your eyes.

"I- I was- I'm sorry," he says instead of answering the questions. He doesn't want to waste time with any of his pathetic explanations. "I'm here now. We're gonna get you out of here, and it's going to be ok."

Tears leak from your eyes, one rolling out from the inner corner. He can see the streams of water trailing down your face from the glow outside the windows.

"Why didn't you help us?" you cry again, "Why did you leave us to die? Why did you leave me?"

Then his eyes open.

Unlike his usual nightmares, he doesn't yell or shoot straight up when he regains consciousness. His claws don't pop out ready to tear apart the imagined threat. This time, he only jerks a little with a strained gasp. After that, he feels frozen, as if his joints locked in place.

His chest puffs with shallow breaths. It takes his mind a few minutes to catch up. While staring at the dark ceiling above, the image of you dying begins to fade away. That hadn't happened. That wasn't how that part of the night had played out.

The rest of his dream, however, had been more based in reality. Those images of the others strewn across the mansion are harder to clear. He rubs his rough palm over his face, trying to push them away. But he can already feel the ache of self-loathing and guilt gnawing at his insides.

He tries to remember the things you told him on the few rare occasions you had to console him. There's nothing to do about it now. It's in the past. All you can do is try to be better for the future.

Your voice plays these reminders through his head. They help bring him back down a little. He feels the plush comfort of your mattress beneath him and your blankets draped over him. The room is silent except for the muted hum of the air conditioner. There's no screaming or chanting or fire crackling. The smell of death is gone. All there is now is the scent of you.

As he goes through this list, he feels some movement beside him. His head turns, and his eyes land on you. You had shifted around a little in your sleep, rolling onto your other side so that you're facing away from him. He hears you let out a little unconscious sigh.

Even though he couldn't see your face, the vision of you lying there peacefully, completely unaware of his turmoil, brings the slightest bit of softness to his eyes.

He reaches over and rubs the small of your back. You look so delicate right now. He rolls onto his side in the same way you're facing, scooting closer.

The sight of your clean pajamas puts him at ease faster than anything else. There's no blood, no torn seams or other signs of pain. The thin baby blue fabric clings to your figure. He tucks his fingers beneath it, sliding his hand up the warm, smooth expanse of your back. They drag up and down along the path of your spine. He feels you melt a little, growing more relaxed as he strokes you. The idea brings him more comfort, that you were just as soothed by his presence as he was yours.

He doesn't understand how you still feel that way about him after everything. Most days he still questioned why you didn't hate him after what happened to the others. He wouldn't blame you for casting him aside like everyone else did.

But he's trying to do as you often tell him and not dwell on the past. So instead, he focuses on the fact that he needs more of you.

He removes his hand from under your shirt and uses both arms to pull your body to him. His muscular arms encircle your smaller frame and situate you right against his chest like a little teddy bear. Nuzzling into the back of your neck, he can smell your lotion. The light and airy aroma loosens the lingering tension in his shoulders.

He lays some kisses against the skin too. You're so precious in this condition, limp and pliable, easy for him to hold and love on. He needs you like this when he feels this way. As much as your words bring him peace of mind, sometimes he just wants to feel you. To feel that you're still here and that you're safe.

Plus, the physical aspect of holding you also calms him down more than he'd probably ever admit out loud. It's just so hard to be upset when he has the round curve of your ass pressed up against him. Nothing wards off the bad memories like you in his grasp. 

He smooths his palms across your belly, gliding them upwards beneath your shirt to cup your breasts. His large hands squeeze them gently. Though the touch is inherently sexual, it's also comforting. He kneads them for a moment before bringing one back down to your pelvis and tucking it under your panties.

You squirm a little from the sudden feeling of being confined and explored. He hears you mumble something incoherent and spots your eyes fluttering a bit.

"Shhh, it's ok, baby. It's just me," he whispers while laying lazy kisses up the column of your throat to below your ear, "You're ok. I've got you."

That's enough to get you to close your eyes again and settle in his arms, but you still babble something he can barely make out.

"Mhm, I know," he murmurs, "You just go back to sleep for me, honey. You're being such a good girl. Giving me just what I need."

He watches you deflate back into your dreams. By now, he's started to fill out beneath the pair of loose sweatpants he had on. He grinds his bulge against your ass with measured rolls of his hips. A soft sigh fans over your shoulder.

At the same time, his fingers in the front swirl around your clit. He teases the little bundle of nerves, drawing tiny patterns of pleasure over it. Your hips push back against him in response. The increased pressure against his cock only drives his need for you more.

His digits drag down your slit and back up to your little nub. He works on you until you're nice and slick between your thighs, ready to take him.

He shifts around a little, adjusting the waistband on his pants to pull his length out. The thick appendage throbs with need for you. He strokes it a few times, feeling the heat beneath his fingers. His other set of digits hooks around the seat of your shorts and panties and pulls them to the side. Pushing his hips forward, he slides his shaft between your thighs.

Your folds engulf him perfectly. He groans softly before beginning to rock his pelvis. He moves in small strokes. The motion isn't rough or primal, just slow and needy. Each drag against your velvety skin coats his cock in your arousal.

His arms get tighter around you. He makes sure he's not holding too tight, not wanting to accidentally snap a rib during this process. You just feel so fucking good. He has to have you so close it feels as though he's trying to absorb you. 

He buries his face in your neck, little puffs of air blowing on your skin with each grunt he makes. More wetness gathers where the two of you meet as he keeps thrusting. He feels the fat tip of his cock nudge your clit. He can feel the way your legs squirm at that sensation too.

In your sleep, your hands drift up to hold one of his forearms. You whine softly, but it's crackly and broken. It's not a choice, just a subconscious reaction to the pleasure sizzling between your hips.

He works a little faster now, back and forth, back and forth. Without thinking about it, he lightly bites your shoulder. He doesn't use enough pressure to hurt, but he also is pretty sure there will be marks when he finally lets go.

The dull ache on your shoulder combined with the teasing flicker on your cunt still doesn't wake you. Your eyes don't open until he angles himself back and pops the first couple inches of his shaft into your entrance.

That's when your gossamer lashes lift from your cheeks in the direction of your brow. It takes you a few blinks to comprehend the sensation. You feel the heat of him all around you right away. The mild stretching down below makes your head spin.

He sees you waking and swoops in again, mouth releasing your flesh and migrating to the shell of your ear.

"That feel good, princess?" he mutters as he bottoms out.

After a few lazy blinks, you're able to nod. Your fingers dig into his forearm a little harder.

"Good. Just relax and enjoy it for me, ok?" he mumbles.

He starts to thrust, pumping himself into you at a slow, steady pace. His movements remain controlled. Now wasn't the time to fuck like survival depended on it. That's not what this is about. He has all he needs like this, and he can tell you do too.

You nod to that second question before shutting your eyes again. He feels your head going limp against your pillow and rewards your compliance with some soothing kisses to the area he had bitten before.

"Sweet, sweet girl," he grunts. It's more to himself than you. He's not even sure you'll hear it.

Your body is relaxed again with a handful more thrusts. He doesn't think you're fully asleep, probably drifting on some middle ground between lucidity and sleep.

His cock throbs within you. You're so tight and warm, wetter than you were on the outside. He knows he probably won't last much longer, but that's ok. There didn't need to be a big finish right now.

He pants against your skin, his face tensing with the need to release. His fingers dig into the skin of your chest. The heat in his stomach keeps rising higher and higher as the pressure does the same.

It gets to a point that it finally snaps and his hips jerk, clapping against your ass. He spills deep inside you. The warmth floods your belly. He feels your legs go taut and the way your walls spur him on by contracting around his cock.

He fucks it into you slowly. His body also feels tense for the moment, taking care to remain gentle with you. His hips move in slow rolls to work his cum deeper into you, but they eventually slow down to the occasional twitch. And then finally nothing.

"Gonna be all messy now..." you grumble.

He chuckles against your skin, the sound raspy and low. "I'll clean you up in the morning," he whispers and kisses below your ear, this time the peck chaste. Nothing but pure love in the gesture.

You hum with acknowledgement before yawning. There's a brief pause after that. He stays inside of you, needing to feel that snug embrace for a bit longer. No sound comes from either of you. He's pretty sure you're trying to sleep again, but then you speak.

"Did you have a nightmare?" you whisper.

He hesitates. You already knew the answer. There was no other reason to ask if not to confirm. That doesn't change the fact that he doesn't like showing weakness.

But he's honest with you anyway.

"Mhm," he hums.

You nod, contemplating your next words. "Do you feel better now?" you decide to ask.

"Yeah, baby. You fixed me right up," he responds just as quietly. 

And it's the truth. For the moment, he's better. Tomorrow he'll probably have another one of these things, but for tonight you've cured him. He keeps holding you close and finally shuts his eyes again.

[millieisawriter]

okay guys <33 requests keep coming in (just got one for arthur/dutch x brothel worker reader,) and i love that but for some reason (i'm still a lil sick, woke up with a terrible headache) writing has been going slow :( so! not wanting to leave y'all dry i've prepared something like this :)

headcannons: RDR2 men as dads

including: arthur, javier, charles, sean, lenny

Arthur Morgan

considering his past experiences, he'd feel so grateful to have another chance at having family

this time he would leave the outlaw life for his family, now he knows being two things at once, a criminal and a good father, doesn't work

tries to watch his language around the kid, and succeeds most of the time

the most protective dad ever, like he'd fr team up with the kid against you even if you're trying to scold the kid for something she/he did

when i say protective i mean it – if the kid coughs he's rushing her/him to the nearest doctor

he sucks at fishing, but he would take the kid fishing if she/he likes it

if the kid wants a dog, arthur is getting a dog for her/him immediately

would let the kid doodle in his journal

bedtime stories for the kid that are literally about the gang's past, excluding the darker parts of the story

Javier Escuella

writes his own lullabies for the kid

encourages any form of creativity like playing an instrument, singing, dancing

his kid would be the best dressed kid around, he's always getting the prettiest clothes for her/him and teaching about the importance of a clean appearance

but the kid would think it's extremely funny to run from him whenever he's trying to get them to wear a new shiny pair of boots, they just love to rebel against him

tries to watch his language around the kid, nearly failing often like "mierrrr–coles"

the kid would think spanish is harder than english, so whenever javier tried to teach her/him his language, the kid would get frustrated at some point and just scream gibberish

then javier would pick random days where he speaks only spanish to the kid. she/he might be reluctant to answer in spanish, but she/he understands the language well. however, javier will NOT reply until the kid speaks spanish

Charles Smith

teaching the kid about how important it is to respect the nature and the land

would make any toy the kid asks for by hand

i think that's obvious, but he would take the kid hunting when they're old enough

teaching the kid to take care of injured animals, that's how a rabbit ended up living in the house ("temporarily" at first)

would be so happy to let the kid braid his hair or put flowers in it, or if the kid made a flowercrown for him

most calm dad ever, he never gets angry at his kid. he doesn't even need to yell, one look is enough for the kid to stop whatever nonsense they're doing

doesn't panic as long as the kid isn't in a lot of pain. like maybe the kid will fall or get a scrape or a little cut, and charles would be just like "you're fine, walk it off" but he'd say it gently

good at playing hide and seek, many times the kid would just give up searching for him or throw a tantrum because charles found her/him so quick

Sean MacGuire

terrible influence, you couldn't have picked a worse father for your kids

doesn't bother to watch his language around the kid at all, so even if the kid doesn't pick up his accent, they would swear in sean's irish accent

allows his kid to stay up late, eat sweets instead of a normal meal, encourages mischevious behavior

would teach the kid to gamble

his kid is literally his partner in crime, sean would teach her/him how to silently steal from people's pockets or how to pick a lock

getting a mannequin, putting a jacket with many pockets on it, wrapping it in things that make noise like little bells on a string, and telling the kid to pickpocket it without making any noise

the kind of dad that will purposely do something to embarrass his kid in public, but would also brag about his kid

would offer a sip of beer to his kid a few times because "that's not even real alcohol!" but you quickly smack the idea out of his head

neither sean nor his kid are allowed around matches after a small incident that involved matches and hay

Lenny Summers

would make sure his kid is well-spoken and understands the importance of education

takes the kid for trips to a nearby bookstore

at first the kid didn't like reading much, feeling like lenny pressures them too much into it, but eventually they started enjoying books

would raise the kindest, gentlest, most obedient kid ever, the kind of kid that never talks back to the parents

yet still he'd also teach the kid to stand up for themselves when someone would try to push them around

IF the kid did something wrong, lenny would pull up with "I'm not mad, I'm disappointed"

would never fall into the loop of "why" questions, because his answers would be so long and detailed the kid would just give up

[halcyone-of-the-sea]

Songs That Sound Like Sea-Foam (III)

AU MASTERLIST || FINAL CHAPTER

PAIRING: Fisherman!John Price x F!Mermaid!Reader

WORDCOUNT: 7.1k

WARNINGS: Angst, blood, death, violence, swords & firearms, abductions, hurt/comfort, torture references, nakedness, needles, gore, etc.

A/N: Alright, and that's a wrap on this mini-series. Biker/mechanic!Ghost is next on the list.

*I do not give others permission to translate and/or re-publish my works on this or any other platform*

You hit the water and immediately push back to the surface, ignoring the burning of your open wounds. 

“John!” Your high and panicked call can’t be heard above the yells to arms and the distressed wails. “What are you doing?!” Bodies get chucked from the side of the ship and all you can do is watch as they meet the water around you—skin cut open and eyes dead. 

While the sea was numbing your pains, your heart was hurting enough for all of them; hands flailing to try and help keep you above the waves. But everything was so dark, only the light far above giving you a sliver of perception. 

“John!” You scream again, eyes snapping back and forth along the ship. Your arms burned with heat.

“Go!” The words ring out and make you cringe, graveled and ragged—an order. But how could you? Vile grunts and skin meeting skin sound out, no more shirking blade edges or the boom of pistols. Fists meeting ribs, bared teeth.

“The Mermaid was wearing tags! He’s part of the King’s forces!” The leader. “If we can’t have the beast, we’ll have the coin from a turncoat!”

“Deserter!”

“Traitor!” 

“Tie him to the post!”

Your ears twitch and pull at the horrible words, lungs near hyperventilating and black waves going red. If you weren’t able to ingest water, the way your head was slowly sinking would have left you sputtering and choking. 

What will they do to him? Why can’t I help? It was the only part in your life where you regret having a tail, because now you can’t save John in the same way he saved you. Your eyes lock helplessly to the upper deck, far, far above. You can’t drag yourself up or even find the energy to stay above water. 

Your strength was waning quickly—you needed to be tended to; healed. But it felt worse than a betrayal to see not even a glimpse of John’s brown hair or his large arms. To not feel the hold he kept on you. You wanted his lips and his flesh to be pressed into you, to venerate your image as he always did. 

A Hierei that worships at the shrine that is you.

“Curse you,” you say aloud to the men above. The ones that tie your raging love to a post; you hear his low growls and biting expletives like blades in their own fashioned way, the sea garbling your words. “Curse your greed and your violence!” 

But no one listens, and with a heavy and weighed heart, you have to let your dead muscles rest as they give out completely against your will. Sunking under the battling waves, you feel like dead weight; no different than the various bodies around you that John had dispatched. 

You felt useless. 

Above you was John, being tied up and taken—taken to a King that wants your species dead. You don’t want to leave, but the current is snatching you away like seaweed, limp and broken. Whatever John had done to your wounds, the fabric of his shirt was holding fast to your shredded flesh, but it didn’t stop the agony or the inner conflict. 

He was right above you…why aren’t you strong enough to help?

Your eyes flutter, hair and arms floating. 

Everything grows dark, but John never once leaves your mind. Perhaps the Fisherman was worshiping you, but you did the same unto him. 

The eyepatched leader’s words loop in your brain, paired with storm-blue eyes. Gentle praises.

 “...I think he loves the beast!” 

Your body sinks with the rest.

—

The sand under you is coarse and dry as your eyes barely open, chest rising and falling but shakily, stuttering in its course. Small noises groan in the back of your throat, fingers like stones beside your face. 

Everything hurts, but something has woken you up. Noises. Muttered speaking.

“Now why would she have these?” There was a moment of clinking metal and a low huff. 

You groan louder and curl into yourself more, only to stop when the tears in your flesh pull. Your lungs inhale sharply.

“Oh, Christ,” the accented voice is smooth as it gets closer. “Easy, then, Ma’am. Shite, I was hoping you’d stay under a bit longer, I’m not bloody done yet.” 

Forcing your eyes open, you hiss at the burn of morning light, laying on your stomach with…your brows tighten…were you wearing a tunic? A hand meets the back of your shoulder and you cry out, jerking.

“Woah!” More force is applied to keep you down but it only makes you struggle more. “Please, I’m trying to stop the bleeding!” 

You stall at this revelation like a bird, panting. Muscles tight, you cautiously look over your shoulder to weakly stare at whoever this man was.

Brown eyes meet your own, and a dark-skinned complexion over an oval face. They blink at you with concern and hesitation, sparing only a nervous smirk and a chuckle. You stare widely, saying nothing. 

“I…I’m just trying to stop the bleeding. Whoever got you,” this man trails off, glancing down at your tail. “Well, they did some proper damage.”

“Who are you?” Your voice is damaged from all the screaming you’d done, cracking and frail. You stifle a cough and survey the land with frantic snaps of your orbs. This wasn’t your cove. 

Where were you? What had happened to the ship? To John? Your hand travels to your neck but lands on nothing. It’s like the world stops turning.

The necklace. 

“My name’s Kyle, Miss, but I’m just as well off being called Gaz—” Your hand snaps to his shoulder, wrenching him down in a violent slam to the sand; with a shove of your ailing body, you cross an arm over his chest to pin him. 

Brown eyes widen, and one hand easily raises in a placating manner. You don’t bother to look at the other, your head broken into bits of instances and images of horror.

“Where is it?” Your lips hiss out. You didn’t know you could make a sound like that. 

Kyle, dressed in a fine outfit of a Bookkeeper, furrowed his brows at you. He didn’t look off-put by your brashness, or by the fact that you were of the Merfolk. 

“I’m sorry, Ma’am…I’m not following. Where’s what, exactly?” There was a glinting at his throat, and you snatched at it with a glare and snarl of ‘thief’ on your tongue. 

A blade presses into your side and you freeze. Kyle stares up at you with a frown on his face, body tight. “I think you should let that go, Miss, yeah?” 

The metal discs are the same as John's, but they hold a different name entirely. 

“Kyle Garrick, Sergeant, 141st company under the King.”

“One Hundred and Forty-First?” You whisper in a hushed voice and the blade loosens from you. Mouth opening and closing, you forget for a moment what Kyle is. Your eyes go glossy with hope. “You know John?” 

Eyelids blink at you in astonishment and all at once the knife is sheathed at his hip once more. Gaz gapes, his slight stubble shifting on his face as he talks slowly. 

“Yes, I do…how do you know the Captain? No offense, but I didn’t peg him for the type to run off with…well…” he trails, chuckling. “Not run exactly, then, is it?” 

You glower and push back, flinching at your aches but waste no time in speaking frantically to the man as your tail flaps. If he was on the same ship as John was, they certainly knew each other well; Kyle had to assist you.

“Please, you need to help me,” The man’s face goes serious and he pushes himself up, “—there’s been a terrible event. John has been taken, don’t you understand?” Your hands grasp at his collar, forgetting to ask about the missing necklace in your mounting hysteria. “They took him. They’re bringing him back to the King and it’s all my fault!” 

You don’t know if it’s the pain or the fatigue, but your emotions spill from you in droves, silver tears falling like drips from a blacksmith's smelter to the beach of this foreign place. Your body feels unable to hold itself up—so much blood lost. 

Gaz gains a sheen of panic at your state, gripping your shoulders lightly above the given tunic. 

“Now, now, Ma’am, steady. You’ve lost a lot of blood, eh? We need to get you sorted.” But internally your words disturbed him. John had been taken? His Captain? And he had known a mermaid?

“I don’t need to be sorted,” you mock, shaking him, “I need my John back! And you’re going to help me.” 

Kyle gazes around awkwardly, clearing his throat and trying to comfort you as his upper half gets forced back and forth.  

“First,” he stops you with a firm squeeze on your shoulders, “we’re getting you stitched and wrapped, Ma’am. If what you’re telling me is real,” Gaz pauses, glancing at the sea lapping at your tail, “then I need to get in contact with the others.” 

Your body slightly sags, panting and shaking. While you should have asked who the others were, your adrenaline was too great to allow you to think above the fact that Kyle was going to help you. He had known John—that was enough for you to know he was a good person. 

“Easy,” the man mutters, face pulled in concern. There’s a moment of tense silence before Gaz shifts a hand to the pocket inside of his tweed frock coat, slipping to the side of his green notch vest. He blinks his brown eyes at you before he lightly takes John’s necklace from the depths of his clothes. Kyle presents them as your shoulders loosen with a small sliver of comfort. “I believe you were looking for this, yeah?” 

He spares a friendly, boyish, smile.

Your fingers brush his as you delicately take the metal up, fingertips weeping with torn flesh. Staring at them, you bring the item to your lips and kiss it gently after a moment of agony, a few more tears slipping down your cheeks. 

“Oh, John,” you whisper, “you fool, what have you done?” 

“I’ll be needing to move you, Ma’am,” Gaz clears his throat and looks back to the grass-coated road. The beach where you had washed up was near the bottom of a slight hill, and along with sand, there were a lot of pebbles. The wind was chilled. “I was just finishing up with a temporary binding when you woke. We can speak more when I get the larger wounds stitched.” 

You see his gaze fall down you once more. 

“I’d think there’s a lot to catch up on.” Shuffling John’s necklace over your head, you allow Kyle to take bandages from his Gladstone bag which he had brought down from the road with him. He says he found you on the beach unconscious not five minutes before you woke back up as he takes out John’s tunic strips before packing the wounds with fresh material. 

“You stopped?” You ask quietly, body shaking. “Why?” 

“Well, I left the same time that the Captain did,” he explains, looping fabric around your tail as you shudder and clench your teeth at the long cuts over your scales. Kyle spares you a glance before continuing. “Same reason too. The minute innocent beings were being hunted, everyone in the One Hundred and Forty-First deserted. They weren’t too happy with us, I’d imagine. I do what I can to help anyone, regardless of species.” 

Gaz pulls back and finishes up, brushing his hands on his folded legs and sighing. 

“We all separated and led our lives the best we could—got jobs, hid ourselves, the like.” While the story was fascinating, as John was rare to talk about the King or his service beyond a clenched jaw, you truly were suffering from blood loss.

Every moment it became harder to keep your upper-half vertical and your eyes open. Gaz’s words slurred in your eardrums as the sand under your hands got pushed back by pressure like a rock being dragged. Your head must have swayed, because the next moment you’re being lifted with a grunt and a steadying of feet.

“Can’t say I’ve ever carried a mermaid,” Kyle grumbles to himself, blinking down at your form as our head rests limply on his chest. “Certainly not one that knows Price of all people.”

You focus on your breathing as he ascends the hill, going slowly and holding your form tight so as not to drop you. While not John’s size by any means, the man was still strong in a more lean and lithe way where your Fisherman’s was upfront and bare with it. 

You’re carried down the trodden path to a lone house on the upper hill above the water, small and quaint, it’s only a single square room. 

Truly this event speaks to your luck—how on earth had you found perhaps one of the only men on the planet that knew John and sympathized with magical creatures?

Kyle sets you back on his bed softly, pillows pressed into indents of your head and cheek. 

“Alright then,” he sighs, “let's get this figured out, yeah?” 

You’re offered food and water, but all you care about is sleep. Your tail hangs off the end of the bed and your fins ache with torn skin. Without even looking at your scales, you know they’re damaged immensely. Most will be left with great scars. 

Merfolk could be called vain in their lifetime, and the sentiment wasn’t entirely untrue. You were beings of elegance and beauty—ethereal lustfulness hardwired into your DNA. Image was important to you, and this loss was great. 

But the loss of John hurt more than any torture someone could inflict on you; any wounds. You needed him back. 

As Gaz prompted you to tell your story, which you did with failing consciousness, your hand traveled to your necklace to grasp it tightly. Lips quivering. When the first push of the man’s needle entered your hard flesh, you never even felt it.

—

You awoke for the second time, once more, to the sound of speaking. 

“Well, he’s sure gotten up to it while we’ve been away! Fuckin’ bastard.” This accent didn’t belong to Gaz, and thus your eyelids pushed back with slight unease. Had John’s Sergeant sold you out? With a struggle, you blink back to reality only to find a pair of bright blue eyes stuck on you. 

For a moment you startle, those shades so similar to John’s that for a moment you had forgotten what had transpired. Then the pain in your tail strikes up and you balk back sharply. 

“Soap!” Gaz hisses, grabbing the large and built man away from the bed. “Get the hell away from her, would you? Christ, she’s been through enough without having to look at that face when she wakes up, Mate.” 

“What in the hell does that mean?” Soap, as he’d been introduced, was the epitome of a blacksmith—ash still on his square jaw and his large black apron tied at a stiff waist. His arms were as bulky as your head and while he was shorter than Gaz he made up for it in sheer muscle. 

Blue eyes darken with annoyance before they swivel back to you, but they lighten just the same when they spot your fear-spiked expression. 

“Sorry about that, Little Lady. Just curious, is all.” You swallow the saliva in your throat and turn to look at Gaz in question. “Not every day somethin’ like this happens.”

“Johnny ‘Soap’ MacTavish,” the man offers, rubbing at his neck apologetically. “Served with John and I. You can trust him.” 

You blink and turn back to Johnny, and, sure enough, around his neck were the common silver discs that Gaz and John wore over the tunic and apron. 

“A…” You try to remember what your Fisherman had told you about human customs. With a frown, you carefully extend a hand and hold it aloft while your tail rests and your other limb keeps you up. “A pleasure, Johnny.” 

A wide grin meets your eyes and a hand is clapped into your own; shaking it firmly as yours remains limp. 

“Ah, please, the pleasure’s all mine.” When his grip leaves you look down at the various stitches and thick wrappings around your body before thinning your lips and gazing back at Gaz. He stares and tilts his head when you lock eyes with him. 

“Thank you, Garrick. I…I owe you a large debt.” He’s already shaking his chin at you.

“Negative, Ma’am,” Kyle denies. “The only thing we need to be focusing on is getting the Captain back. Simon should be along by the evening.” 

“Sure the man’ll show?” Johnny raises a brow and stands to his full height, going over to the small table in the middle of the room and sitting down with a huff. He picks up a flagon and takes a sip of ale. “He’s far off cuttin’ stone.” 

“I sent a rider out and said it was urgent. He should be getting it about now, yeah?” 

“Well, hell, I’d sure hope so else we’re out of our favorite Ghost. Can’t have that.” You watch and stare at the ease these two converse with the other, years seem to bleed from their mouths like waves in water. They had it all figured out, and noticeably, they weren’t at all panicked. 

“How are the both of you so calm?” You can’t help but ask. Brown and blue turn to furrow their brows at you.

“They took the bloody Captain. Only person worse than that to steal away would be Simon.” A chuckle. “I’m more worried about the bastards themselves than him.” And it was left at that. 

At times throughout the day, Gaz would bring you bread to nibble on to help settle your stomach, water, and ale whenever you needed it. When the dryness of the air and the fireplace got too warm for you, Johnny would be the one to carry you down the hill to the water where you’d soak your wounds in the surf. In those moments you could finally take in the pure silence under the waves and let your anguish take hold.

But you always had to break the surface at some point, shimmy into the dry tunic that Soap offers with respectfully averted eyes, and let him carry you back with his bulky arms. 

As it always did, the water let your wounds heal far faster than a man’s, though the aches were still intense. 

John’s eyes would not leave you. His crown of stars or the lantern light on his face—the way he whisked you away from danger and put himself dead center into it. Keeping you to his large chest as he held aloft a sword in your honor.

 “...I think he loves the beast!” 

Oh, and you loved right back and you hadn’t told him. 

It’s hours upon hours later when the door is shoved open as you sit up in the bed; tail limp and dim on the floor below. You look up in shock at the man whose frame nearly takes up the entire doorway, shoulders wide and thighs vast under work pants and a large tunic, cowl over his head and clasped with a brooch at his left pec. Under shined a deep brown gaze and pale brows, but his entire lower face was covered by cloth. 

Intimidating, his visible expression was entirely blank. You wondered if perhaps a vampire had walked into this place without proper entry, but then you remembered the man Johnny and Gaz mentioned. 

Simon. Ghost. 

Well, he certainly fits the part, stone dust on his clothes and large boots stacked with scrapes. A Stonemason.

“There’s the man!” Johnny exclaims, raising his hand which has another cup of ale in it as he’d downed the other some time ago. 

“Where’s Price?” Deep was Simon’s voice, and he spares you a glance but nothing more. Gaze falling down your tail with hidden flickers of intrigue and wafting back up to stop at John’s necklace. His brows pull in as he turns. 

“Gone—taken to the King,” Gaz explains from where he leans against the fireplace, face serious. 

“Fuckin’ hell,” Simon grunts, walking in and closing the door behind him. “Where was he last?” It’s mildly amusing to you that he doesn’t seem bothered or even surprised by a mermaid in Gaz’s home. 

“Just off Harpies Nest,” Johnny pipes in, itching at shaved sides of his scalp. “Where the old beasts used to fly from.” 

“I’m guessing she’s the reason for that, then?” Everyone was anxious to act, even you. These men were close, and while circumstance had forced them away from one another the loyalties still lay. 

“Affirmative. Price’s been in good company, seems.” A stale glare is sent his way and he chuckles and puts up his hands. 

“Is there anything we can do?” You ask, looking at each in turn. Seeming to still hold that ingrained ranking that all men in the service do, Johnny and Gaz look to Simon. Brown eyes blink slowly, turning to look at you in a narrowed thought.

After a while, he speaks in a monotone.

“They’ll be bringing ‘em to the castle to stand trial. We’ve already lost a day’s time and there’ll be no ship that can sail as fast as we need it to.”

“By land?” Gaz wonders. Johnny’s shaking his head.

“How do you expect we get the Lady through that?” Eyes turn to your lack of legs. Body stiff, you huff and grit your teeth. If they thought you weren’t going along, that was foolish of them.

“I can swim to the docks,” you pause, “but you’ll have to tell me the way, for I do not know it.” 

John had talked about docks—places ships went to rest. You’re sure you can make it, even like this. You had to. 

Johnny stares before he chuckles twice, sharing a glance with the others and motioning to you. “I like ‘er.”

Gaz and Simon look at one another with a side-eye, before Kyle sighs and shakes his head. Simon hooks his thumbs into his pants and huffs out, “Sure you’re up for that?” 

“I’m helping John.” Pushing, you meet those brown eyes head-on and steel yourself. “I need him back.”

There’s no further fight, and Ghost takes everything you say at face value. “Fine.” 

And that was that.

—

The plan was so stupid you wondered if these men had gone brain-dead, but inside the castle dungeons, John had no way of knowing that. 

He frowned deeply as his pounding skull tipped back to connect with the cobblestone wall, blood dried over the right side of his face. A growl on his lips as the chains keep his hands high above him and hanging as his backside stays seated on the floor. His limbs had long since gone numb, circulation cut out in an uncomfortable state of numbness. 

But inside of him, there was a sense of accomplishment despite everything. He’d gotten you away from dirty hands—away from hooks. Away from danger. 

John could die happy with that.

On the ship, before he’d been brought to the castle, the crew had tied him to the mainsail mast with a ragged rope that had skinned his flesh in just minutes of the rocking waves. They’d taken his vessel as well, and all of his belongings were confiscated in the docks. From there it had been amused jabs at his stomach with fists and knife-throwing practice. 

John had cuts along the sides of his arms and the meat of his thighs—clothes shredded and torn from blades. His forehead had a long gash from the scalp to the temple, dried now but pulling with red aggression. 

The fisherman hums under his breath and thinks only of you. 

It was a fact that you had brought music into his life; a melody of waves and scales that could not be denied. Songs that sounded like sea-foam and a lapping of a tail across the water. When he’d seen you that day from behind the black rocks, John had lost a piece of himself to your wide eyes and tilted head. That spark of connection. 

He had never been so thankful for choosing a new place to cast his nets, because he’d unwittingly caught the greatest creature he ever could have—one people have been running after for years. 

You. 

John’s lips pull in a tiny smile, eyes going soft. Above him his chains rattle and his arms flinch, wounds burning, but for the life of him, he can’t stop smiling. Wherever you were, he hoped you were safe and that he gave you the best chance of survival. He hoped you could forgive him.

Footsteps echo off the ground, and John looks over to the iron bars of his cell stiffly, mask re-falling to his stern face like a curtain. Two guards in armor clink down the hallway, expressions hidden by hoods and cloth. One produces a rusted key from his belt and slips it into the door, the metal rattling as it gets forced back and forth until the telltale click signifies the opening of the lock. 

“Finally letting me out, then?” John speaks dryly, voice holding a rasp. 

No one answers, and soon John’s chains are dropped and his arms seized. Yanked up, the fisherman grunts in pain as his legs drag behind him across the cobble—being taken somewhere. Probably, if John had to guess, the noose. 

Desertion isn’t something you can get out of shy of a life sentence; to hell or to a cell was entirely up to the King. And the King wasn’t entirely fond of John and his One Hundred and Forty-First. 

John was forced out into the open courtyard, a dichotomy of brightly flowering bushes and expensive finery to the platform placed in the very middle. The brunette's lips thinned at the sight of the large and imposing body made of wood and rope belonging to the gallows, a grim reaper of earthly material. There would be no great fight from him, no roar of a death rattle, just a kicking of his feet and tight wheezes, but no more. 

He knows his final thoughts will be of you—what you’re doing right now, how you’ll live the rest of your life. John hopes you don’t cry for him. 

The two guards shove him forward, and already a crowd has formed below the viewing platform for the monarch himself, who sits in all of his finery. Wyvern leather for his gloves, unicorn horn for a scepter, and…John’s eyes go tight, scales that make up a crown of opal and gold. Vibrant scales. 

Unmistakingly Merfolk, anyone who’s met one of the species would know it. It has the same shine as the one John holds in the pouch on his belt; the fisherman clings to the fact that, against all of it, you were still with him in even a small sense. You’d be with him. 

So John grits his teeth and glares up to the dias defiantly as the guards hold him under the noose, shoving his head to the side to grab the rope. He feels no fear.

“Fuckin’ watch it, Muppet,” the fisherman hisses, snapping his head to the side to stare into the glinting brown eyes from under the hood. He pauses, brows furrowing. “What…?” 

As his hands are forced behind him, they’re not tied as the excited murmuring from the crowd begins, the King’s forward-leaning attention. 

They’re given a knife. 

John hides his surprise and looks over to the other guard as he fits the noose over his neck. Amused blue, and around his neck the glint of silver discs. 

“Oh, bloody hell, you’re takin’ the piss,” the former Captain growls lowly. He knows those damned eyes, just as he knows his former Lieutenant’s. 

MacTavish and Simon. 

“Chin up, Captain,” Johnny jokes under his breath hidden by cloth. “Show’s about to start. Let’s give ‘em a proper scare, yeah.” 

Blue eye glare, but they lack the venom. A barred-teeth smile grows. How had this happened? Johnny steps back and goes to his side, the wood under their feet creaking. The crowd falls silent, looking to the King for the verdict. 

The King’s fingers raise and John memorizes his face in that instant…because it’s only then that he sees Gaz.

Gaz, who was on the upper terrace of the courtyard’s walls, holding a musket with the stock trained to his cheek; body still and ready—tutored to a perfectly motionless trance. There aren’t any guards to be seen near him. It’s a moment of pure silence, a ruling energy. The crowd is waiting for the King to verbalize an answer that he’s never able to give. 

As the monarch’s lips open there is an eardrum-bursting boom that shatters the call for John’s doom and instead spells his own in his very castle from one of his former men. A poetic ending, John would say, but he’s unable to verbalize it as he’s suddenly falling through the gallows hatch as Simon reems on the handle. 

“Knife!” It’s all the Ghost yells in warning.

With a rush of air, there’s a split second to cut the rope before it breaks his neck, and with a snapping motion, John perfects it in an instant—instinct as sharp as any blade that could be put into his hand. He hits the ground with a loud grunt of pain and struggles to sit up until Johnny and Simon jerk at him from where they’d jumped down as well. Not a second too soon, as lead balls from rival guns were already hitting the gallows. 

Not all the guards were dead, then, and apparently, the three had known that would be a possibility.

John would have to scold them later. 

“What in the hell is going on?!” The fisherman barks, but he’s being dragged before he shoves their hands off of him and follows to where they beeline into the fleeing crowd.

“What?” Johnny belts out laughter. “No ‘thank you?’ We just saved your neck!”

“Left!” Simon shouts, and although John’s body can’t take much more, they all dart into the cover of the castle walkways. “Make for the docks—the Sergeant’s meeting us there.”

“Bloody fucking Christ!” John growls but quickly goes onto the most important topic. “She’s behind this, isn’t she?” Johnny’s smirk only confirms it.

“Proper girl you’ve got there, Gaz found her on the shore. Else we’d never have heard about it all before you were dead and gone.” John blinks at him. “Getting reckless without us, now?”

The former Captain ignores the remark. “Where is she?” 

“Oi!” Ghost hisses, looking over his shoulder as the three hurry on as shouting rings from behind them. “Get your head in the game. Focus on not getting shot, yeah?” 

Brown meets blue. 

“You’ll see ‘er soon.” Simon ends, dead eyes shifting to a form that rampages through the hallway behind them. “Behind!” He calls loudly, and John ducks just as a knife is thrown with pinpoint accuracy. A sound of a body hitting the floor echoes over the distant screaming and calls of alarm. 

The King is dead. 

All of the men reach their destination by sheer luck and the knowledge of how to use a blade, cobblestone leading to open streets and back alleys. Finally, the wide stretch of sea was visible, and a shadow slinked out of a corner quickly. 

“Hell,” Gaz blinks at them, “do you think I’ll ever be let back into the castle?” 

Johnny pants a laugh. “You’ll be lucky to get into the province, ya sneaky Bastard. Fine fuckin’ shot.” 

Simon looks at them. “Gaz, Johnny, get to it.” 

They’re by the open water of the dock, long wooden walkways stretching out with ships shifting in the waves. John wonders if his boat is here in the back of his mind, but his eyes are already combing the waves greedily in search of you. 

Were you here? Oh, he hoped you weren’t. You’d be placing yourself in the middle of a very real and present danger. 

“Get to what?” John questions, looking at each man in turn. “What ‘ave you planned, eh? Seems I’ve missed the meeting where we decide to assassinate the bloody monarch in broad daylight.” 

Gaz places a hand on his shoulder as he shimmies past. “Best to leave the heavy lifting to the ones who can stand fully, Captain.”

“Aye,” Johnny confirms. “You’ll want to be here more than anywhere, bet ya.” 

Simon shares a look with the blacksmith and grabs John by one shoulder, leading him to the water as Johnny takes the other. The brunette blinks quickly in confusion and grunts an expletive. 

“Get your hands off of me you pair of—!”

“Have fun!” Johnny and Simon both shove him into the water with a final push and dart off like wisps. 

Water rushes into his ears, covering his head and soaking his clothes before it drags him under. John’s arms flailed to propel him back to the surface. A jolt later, his head is breaching the water with a venomous glare and a barked order on his lips to a vacant audience. The boys had already sprinted off to who knows where.

“Son of a…” John trials, weak legs kicking to keep him afloat. Something brushes his thigh as water drips from his nose, cleaning away the blood with a reddish tint to the liquid.

The fisherman startles, head snapping down just as your hands grasp at his abdomen, sliding up as you press your lips deeply into his in one swift motion. He gasps, grip instinctually moving to hold onto the small of your back. 

You press into him tightly, pushing every emotion into the locking of your mouths with desperation and longing. Sighing deeply into the kiss, John melts into you as your tail brushes his legs, torn fins visible and shimmering stitches pulling at flesh. Scales glint somewhat brighter under the waves, water dripping along your shoulders and wetting your hair. 

John brings you closer when he realizes it’s your form around him, eyes fluttering closed and fingers weaving behind the base of your skull. It’s as if the world stills for that quick and reverent second as if everything is right. The both of you break the kiss with soft eyes, and after a moment of staring your chest releases a chuckle; hands coming up to capture your fisherman’s cheeks, weaving through those beard hairs once more.

The brunette stares at you and lays his forehead into yours, not knowing what to say. A smile plays on his lips.

“...It seems my fisherman had more of a reckless side than I anticipated,” you speak for him, whispering into the air. Your eyes flicker over the cuts and bruises visible on his pale flesh and a flash of fear alights in your expression. “Oh, John…What have they done to you?”

“Just scratches,” the man reassures delicately. “It’s alright, Love. I’ll live.” 

But you both know this conversation can’t happen here. With a few more pecks of kisses to his lips, you ask in an ethereal voice, “Do you trust me?”

Your hand is locked to his wrist, pulling him along the waters as your head tilts at him and tail sliding along his flesh. 

John wastes no time. “Of course.” 

Lips flicker to a small, loving, grin and then you drag him under the water. 

—

“Do they hurt?” He asks you carefully, running a calloused hand along the tears in your fins you know will never heal fully. You sit on the rocks below Gaz’s home, the water still dripping off of both of your bodies. 

Out farther in the water the three other men are sailing back in John’s fishing boat, a few minutes out. You blink down at him and move a hand to shift his jaw upward to you, humming.

“Not when you touch them like that,” confessing, you keep close to him, held tightly under the crook of his arm and breathing in that scent of rope and wood oil. You practically vibrate with comfort, all of your worries able to be put aside at last. 

John looks down at you and chuckles, putting a deep kiss on your scalp and taking a deep inhale. 

“Cheeky,” he teases. You smile.

“And yours?” Your voice speaks out in question as the water brushes your tail. 

The man peels back to look down at you slowly. “Already better…I owe you, Sweetheart.” 

Huffing, you shake your head, “You owe me nothing. The only reason you were there was because of me.” 

John’s brows furrow, taking your chin in his fingers and tilting your head back to him. He stares into your eyes for a long while until your face starts to heat with emotion, blinking up at him innocently. His blues dart over the healing cuts and marks with hidden emotion.

“I’d do it again,” John whispers. “A million times over, you hear? I’d be a bloody fool not to.” 

He kisses you as you both wait in the setting twilight for the others, bloody and beaten—more scar tissue than anything else—but still your John. 

“Thank you,” he mutters into your lips, and then again when he nips at your flesh. The man plays with his necklace at your collarbone as he traces patterns in your scales and smirks when you shiver. 

He wonders how he got so lucky when the others anchor the boat near the shore, hopping off and wading the rest of the way to the beach. John kisses your forehead and says he’d be right back. 

You watch him with glinting eyes as he walks over to his men, taking each in a heartfelt handshake and conversing honestly. Your eyes blink at the care they display for one another and raise a hand when they peel off, back up to Gaz’s home to rest. 

They reciprocate and disappear atop the hill. 

What’s he doing? You ask as you watch John climb aboard his vessel and rummage around his fishing barrels, opening some and tossing the tops to the deck. Hands shifting along the rocks, you can’t hide the amusement or affection in your eyes at the sight of his ramping annoyance. What was he looking for? 

Your fingers go up to play with his necklace and watch. 

You can’t say you feel much heartache at the loss of your cove—even with the king dead, you were still hunted for your scales—though you had grown to see it in a new light. The place was only a home when John was there, and you knew wherever you went as long as he was there it would be alright. 

The both of you wouldn’t let anything happen to one another. 

John comes back carrying something tucked in cloth, a small parcel held in one hand and longer than it is wide. Your interest is immediately piqued, curiosity straining your eyes. 

He holds it out to you with a mischievous glint and a smirk. 

“Go on,” John motions. Blinking at him, your brows furrow as you carefully take the item from his hands, settling it in your lap before you shift the cloth away. 

Your fingers go to cover your mouth, small gasp entering the air. 

It was a golden box, engraved with movements that resemble lace and waves—shimmering in the low light. 

“John,” you stutter, “what is…?”’

“Open it,” the man insists, kneeling down in front of you as if his muscles didn’t ache. “It’s the reason I was late that day.” John grunts, rubbing at the bottom of his beard and watching intently; crinkles beside his eyes. 

You stare for a moment with burning tear ducts before you grasp ahold of the lid and open it after running a digit over the make. 

Inside sits blue velvet and, strangely, your own scales, but atop that…the blinding gold of a pair of twin cuff bracelets—stones the same shade as your tail. It was perhaps the most elegant piece of jewelry you had ever seen. 

For a solid minute you’re rendered speechless, mouth opening and closing as your tail hangs limp in the low tide. Chucking, John takes the pieces out and your ears twitch to the sound of your scales clacking together like glass. 

“Why would you…” You can’t make sense of it.

John slips them over your wrists and you gape in wonder. They fit just perfectly. 

You look up into your Fisherman’s face and feel tears drip down your chin. A hard hand comes to wipe them away as you laugh through a sniffle. 

“Do you like them, then, Love?” He asks lowly, beard pulled back in a smile. 

“Yes,” you say immediately, giggling. “How could I not? John, they’re lovely. Far too beautiful for me.” 

The former Captain grunts and his brows pull in, frowning. “Now why would you say that?” He brings your hands to his lips and kisses your knuckles. “You’re the most beautiful creature I’ve ever seen. Can’t make me change my mind on that, eh?” 

Your eyes bore into him, lips parted. After a moment your face feels like it’s on fire and you cover your cheeks. 

John laughs loudly, grabbing your arms and lightly squeezing the flesh before taking your grip back down to your lap. You smile so widely you’re afraid your face might crack open.

“No need to hide,” he hums. “Let me see that face.” 

“You’re good to me, John.” His face softens, wrinkles fall away, and his chest swells with pride. You kiss his lips and whisper, “I bare my soul to you.”

It wasn’t an ‘I love you’ but something far more precious. 

The man’s face deepens with devotion, gruff figure more than easily leaning over yours as you’re carefully laid back to the tiny pebbles behind you—a hand behind your head and at the swell of what would be a hip.

In the darkening night, the sun shines its dying light across the waves just like the extending fingers of John’s firm grip; dragging you into him as sea-currents would. Wrapping you both in kelp and a salty grave. His voice is the grating of sand, the slide of a rope across a wooden deck. 

“Then I’ll take care of it for as long as I live.”

Your fisherman damns you to a crypt of land and air, and you couldn’t worship it more. To live and to die beside him is to have existed just as you should have.

TAGS:

@luuvbuzz, @emerald-valkyrie, @anna-banana27, @blueoorchid, @cryingnotcrying, @writeforfandoms, @homicidal-slvt, @jade-jax, @frazie99, @elmoees, @littlemisstrouble, @alpineswinter, @phoenixhalliwell, @idocarealot, @lavalleon, @facelessmemories, @h-leigh, @20forty9, @glitter-anon-asks, @emily-who-killed-a-man, @neelehksttr, @aeneanc, @escapefromrealitysm, @i-d-1-0-t, @pparcxysm, @hawkscanendme, @caramlizedtomatos, @konigsleftkidney, @sanfransolomitatm, @maelstrom007, @jemandderkeinenusernamenfindet, @pheobees, @glitterypirateduck, @uselsshuman, @fan-of-encouragement, @halfmoth-halfman, @ghostlythunderbird, @I-inkage, @pukbadger, @kopatych11, @0nceinabluem00n, @cocrorapop, @knightofsexyness, @abnormalgeil, @smallseastone, @jacegons, @330bpm-whiplash, @simon-rileys-housewife, @4-atsu, @tiredmetalenthusiast

[rottingworship]

Beg and Bargain

The Proxies x F!Reader | Chapter Seven

[Masterlist]

Summary: Things are getting dicey, and only seem to get worse when you are sent out with the person that seems to like you the least.

Warnings: gun violence, mentions of suicide, mentions of sexual acts, blood, mentions of murder, not so healthy dynamics, non-sexual name calling, not beta read (of course, let me know if i happen to miss any <3)

Word Count: ~3.1k

A/N: I'M BACK AND LOVING BEG AND BARGAIN AGAIN. I do apologize for taking the break, but I feel better now. It was much needed. Things are getting exciting!!! No smut this chapter, but there may will be more soon 😈 divider credit to @sister-lucifer

You are sitting at the table; the last 24 hours have been awkward to say the least. Brian is tense, Toby seems ready to fucking murder you, and Tim is probably the happiest of the bunch. You had been able to do your own thing though. No one had really bothered you since Tim found you in the bathroom.

You are eating a frozen meal, supposedly it’s a Salisbury steak… You aren’t too sure though. But really? At this point you don’t care.

“D-Don’t you go back to w-work soon?” Toby sits in front of you.

Immediately, you tense. Your eyes widen momentarily, before you hide your fear. Toby seems to have caught it though. You snarl your lip up at him, and click your tongue, “What about it?” You grumble at him.

“W-well, what are you gonna do?” He is nosy. He seems curious, but not in a concerned way. More of a snotty kind of way.

Your eyes roll back and you groan, “Toby…��� You inhale. “Don’t worry about it.”

“You sure a-are bratty.” Toby snarls back. “Tim needs to handle that.”

The most disgusting, guttural noise you can muster slips from your throat and a loud laugh follows. You shake your head. You may fear Toby, but you do not need to be put in any place. You almost fall backwards, out of your chair. It's so comical. “Tim?” You almost shout. “Shut the fu-”

Toby’s knuckles are suddenly white, nails digging into his palms. You do not finish your sentence. You swallow hard. “Say it.” Toby’s breath is shaky. “Fi-finish your fucking sentence.” His voice is dangerously low. You inhale sharply and shake your head ‘no’. “What were you g-going to say?” He is fuming. He obviously does not want to shut the fuck up. “Were you- Were you going to make me shut up?” He cocks his head at you.

“No.” Your head drops. Your eyes are cutting up at him through your lashes. You can’t help but be so scared. “But-” You exhale heavily, “I can do that.” It’s like you just remembered you can control him. But with consequences… Toby seems excited when you say this. “I won’t though.” Your voice is soft. “I’m not going to give you that satisfaction. Especially because you still haven’t returned my panties.” You finish your little frozen meal.

Toby looks like he wants to launch the table. “That w-wasn’t me!” He almost screams it at you, leaning across the table. You flinch back. “Why the fuck would I lie about it? I bet it was Brian!” The front door opens. Brian and Tim walk in. “What was Brian?” He cocks his head.

“You took her panties!” Toby is yelling now. You are startled. Brian and Tim seem used to it. “Sh-she thinks I took them, but- but it wasn’t m-me!” Toby is furious. He is standing up now. You feel so small sitting across from him.

“Fine!” You snap, “It wasn’t you! You didn’t fucking do it!” Your voice is strained.

Toby storms off, Tim stops him. His hand hits Toby’s chest and he pushes him back into the living room. The look in Toby’s eyes is absolutely feral. “This is my house! Do not-”

“Shut up.” Brian rolls his eyes. “We need to talk to her.” He points at you. “And ‘we’ includes you.”

Your stomach drops. Tim and Brian walk into the kitchen and sit down at the table. Toby stands a little ways away, in the living room. Fuming. “What’s going on?” You cock your head. Are they finally going to kill me? Am I still useful? You think to yourself. You are sure all color has drained from your face. You want to puke.

“You are supposed to go back to work soon-” Tim starts.

Toby interrupts. “I a-already asked ab-”

“I quit.” You interrupt Toby. Your eyes are on Tim, and Tim alone. You bite the inside of your lip. All of them seem confused. So much so that they all ask you ‘what’ in unison. Toby seems the most frustrated.

“Oh!” He throws his hands in the air. “I s-see! Tim is just s-so fucking good-”

“Toby!” You yell at him without thinking. “What the fuck?”

“I mean,” He scoffs, “yesterday y-you were in his room naked, and now y-you quit your job?” He shakes his head. “What the fu-fuck did you do to her?” Toby is looking at Tim now.

You swallow hard. Your eyes are stuck on Tim. Waiting for his answer. He seems smug. You are praying he doesn’t say something stupid. “Tim-” You whisper at him. “Don’t.” You do not want him to push Toby any further.

“Why’d you quit?” Toby looks back at you. His eyes are dark.

“I had to.” You are baffled. “I can’t work in these conditions!” You want to flail around. “Are you aware of my- our circumstances?”

“Very.” Toby’s voice is low, lethal, full of venom.

You don’t say anything else. You are sitting straight up in your seat, hair standing on end, and eyes wide with fear again. Toby leaves. He stomps to his room and slams his door. Your stomach turns.You let out a nervous laugh, “That guy, huh?” You give an awkward smile to Tim and Brian. “He sure is-” You swallow hard, “-something.”

“Oh, by the way,” Brian smirks at you, “you’re going out with him later.”

Tim immediately shoves his friend. Your stomach leaps into your throat. “What? When? Why?” You ask, full of fear and anger.

“Well, we don’t need you fucking around if you go out with Tim. And Toby’s good at these kinds of missions…”

“What kinds of missions…?” You cock your head.

“The killing kind.”

You are tired. Truly. Exhaustion is catching up to you quickly and you have no way to even rest right now. You have trekked through the woods towards your destination. And to be honest, that could be anywhere. You might as well be walking towards your death. You spot a cabin ahead and figure that's your stop. It's a bit bigger than Toby’s cabin and there is a singular light on. The upstairs light.

You look towards Toby, who is not stopping for anything. “Psst,” you stop walking. “Where are we?” You really have no clue.

Toby grunts and turns towards you. “Wh-who’s the bastard that wants you dead?” He sounds so… done with you. You should obviously know whose house you are at.

Your blood runs cold. “Ethan…?” You ask. You now know, but it still comes out like a question. Toby rolls his eyes and keeps walking towards the cabin. You are stuck briefly. Toby has a way to hide his identity. You do not. Your stomach turns. You quickly creep behind Toby and stay as close as possible to him; as much as you are not sure you want to do that. “How do we do this?” You whisper.

“Follow m-me.” It’s all Toby gives you.

He approaches the door, slowly. And then does the opposite of what you think he’s going to do. Toby’s foot slams into the old wood and the door flings open. Every single light on the bottom floor is off. Toby yanks you into the house and you cover your mouth, keeping in a yelp. It's impossible to see where Toby is moving, but you hear his footsteps; you try to stay close by. Toby grabs your arm and begins to guide you --albeit roughly-- up the steps. There is a light coming out from under a closed door.

Toby does not let you go. As you both near the door your anxiety is rising. You are growing antsy and, more importantly, terrified. Toby briefly releases you and slams into the door. It easily opens, almost falling off of its hinges. Toby steps into the room, you hot on his trail. The lights may be on, but the room is completely empty.

The chair in the corner of the room seems to have been sat in recently, someone is nearby. Ethan is nearby. You swallow hard and look at the back of Toby’s head, waiting for his next move. The hair on the back of your neck begins to stand on end. You begin to turn around and something slams into your head, hard. You stumble forward and slam into Toby, the both of you are sent flying to the ground. You let out a whimper and cry out for help. Cry out for Toby.

He is quick to get back on his feet. You, however, are stunned. You look up and find Toby standing between you and Ethan. His hatchets are now out and he is pissed. He snarls under his muzzle and swings at Ethan. The man dodges and trips Toby, easily moving around him and towards you. Toby hits the ground, his head slamming into the wood floor.

“Come on bitch,” Ethan hisses, “aren’t you gonna control me?”

Your face contorts. You shake your head violently. “I don’t know what you’re talking about!”

He pulls a gun off of his hip and brings it to your forehead. “Tell me, cunt, how did John die?” You are stuck. Memories of John the night you had him killed come flooding in. Tears prick your eyes and you hold back a sob. Your eyes are laser focused on Ethan, so much so, you don’t see Toby standing up behind him. “Did you mind control him? Did you force him to put that gun to his head?” Ethan’s voice is steadily rising. “Because I fucking know he did not do that on his own accord!” He screams, spit flying. Toby raises a hatchet. “Do not! I will fucking shoot her!” Ethan pushes the gun harder against your forehead. Toby freezes.

“Please,” You are begging. “I don’t know-” Your eyes screw shut. You shakily inhale and Toby tenses. He needs you to tell that man to back the fuck up. Your eyes open and you begin to speak. “Put your gun down.”

Ethan blinks at you. His hand twitches. Your stomach sinks. It did not work. Ethan laughs; he laughs so hard you are shaken up once more. Tears threaten to spill once again. It did not work. Why did it not work? It’s all you can think as you sit there, about to be fucking murdered. Your eyes shoot to Toby, who seems to be just as baffled.

“Oh,” Ethan smiles, a wickedness you have not seen before takes over him. “This is good. This is really fucking good.” He laughs again. He seems to be breaking. “I’ll handle you in a minute, I have to take care of your little boyfriend first… You sure did move on so quickly!” Ethan directs his attention to Toby, who is most definitely ready to fight. His movements are swift, the gun moving from your forehead to Toby’s direction in milliseconds.

Without thinking, you move and fast. “No!” You scream, pushing yourself up and slamming into Ethan. Your hand grabs his arm, moving the gun upwards. As it goes off, the bullet goes through the ceiling.

“You dumb fucking-” Ethan does not finish his sentence. He whips around as fast as possible, the gun slams into your face, and you fall back down. Your head hits the ground, again. As you are slipping in and out of consciousness, you feel a boot press to the side of your head. Before there is any more pressure placed onto your cheek, the boot is gone. You feel warmth covering your face, but that’s all you can process as you try to stay awake.

You let out a soft sigh and quickly let go. You don’t try anymore. You let yourself go into the darkness.

The sound of birds chirping brings you back to reality. With your eyes closed, you take in your surroundings. You are most definitely on the couch at Toby’s cabin. Your face aches and your head is pounding. You let out a cry and your eyes shut a little tighter. The floorboards creak a bit aways from the couch, footsteps near you.

“Careful.” A voice you do not recognize begins to speak. “You may have a concussion.”

Your eyes shoot open, and you sit up, a little too quickly. You are face to face with a woman. A woman you most definitely do not know. You look around the room, finding no one else, and then back at her. Her dark hair frames her face, her eyes look almost emotionless. Yet, she’s staring at you with an intensity you do not like.

“Who the fuck are you…?” You feel fear. She snorts. She really thinks this is so funny. “I’m not fucking joking, I will make you-”

“Not in this state, you won’t.” She deadpans. “Anyway,” Her head drops to the side, ever so slightly, “I don’t think you’d be okay with the consequences of compelling me right now…”

“Okay… Well, why the hell are you here?”

“This used to be where I slept, before you got here.”

Chills run up your spine. There’s more than just Toby, Brian, and Tim? “Sorry.” That is the only thing you manage to get out. A stupid apology. She rolls her eyes at you. You shift, pulling your legs up to your chest, and you hold on tightly. You can tell the woman finds that weak, you do not care. Not at the moment.

The door of the cabin opens. Brian and Tim walk into the room, some grocery bags in hand. Tim looks at you and the woman and he narrows his eyes. “Kate… I hope you’re being nice.”

“She’s being nice.” You nod at him. Nice enough… You give Tim a soft smile. “Can I ask what happened last night? Is Toby okay?”

Kate is the first to answer you. “After you were knocked unconscious, Toby brought you back here-”

“Is Ethan- Did he-”

“Don’t interrupt me.” Kate starts again. “Ethan is alive. If you had not been so reckless he may be dead now-”

“Reckless!?” You snap. “I couldn’t fucking compel him, and he was about to shoot Toby!”

“Do not interrupt me!” Kate snaps back. You immediately lean back, hitting the arm of the couch. “Toby picked saving your ass over killing Ethan. He let Ethan get away to make sure you were safe!” Kate stands up, hands falling from her hoodie pocket. You tense. Everyone is tense. You watch Kate in horror. “Things have shifted since you arrived.” Kate snarls, lowering herself to your level. “For some reason these men just adore you… If that had been me in that fucking house-”

“Wh-what would you have d-done?” Toby enters the room. Your eyes dart towards him.

Kate backs up from you and lets out a frustrated noise. She exits the house abruptly and you look at the men. You let out a nervous laugh and then sigh awkwardly. You look at Toby and mess with the hem of your shirt, placing your feet on the floor.

“Uh, thank you…” You mumble the words.

“What?” Toby cocks a brow at you.

You groan. “Thank you!”

“For what?” He wants you to explicitly tell him why you are thankful.

You want to combust. “For saving me.” You stand up. “You could have easily just- not saved me! But you did. I fucked up, being reckless, or whatever…” You roll your eyes. “But I'm alive at least.” You inhale sharply through your mouth, your nose hurting too badly to breathe through it, “I don’t know what’s really going on in that head of yours,” you narrow your eyes briefly, “or what your feelings are towards me; we all have a lot going on! If you want-” You pause momentarily, causing Toby to tense. “If you want, we can start a new, clean slate…” You wait for his answer. You feel like you are going to die when he just continues to stare. Your face contorts. “We don’t have to actually,” You cross your arms, “We can stay the exact same and I will hold everything you’ve ever done against you forever-”

Toby laughs. “I j-just saved your life, and all y-you’re offering is a clean s-slate?” He is acting as if it’s the most comical thing he’s ever heard.

“I don't owe you anything, actually! But I’m thankful.” You take a step closer to him, feeling a bit braver, knowing he saved your life makes you feel like he does not want to take it. “What do you think you deserve?”

Toby shakes his head. “You-You’ll revoke the cl-clean slate.”

You let out a laugh. “Okay, really, don’t tell me.” You put a hand up and nod.

“Do I get a clean slate?” Brian asks from behind you.

“N-no! You did-didn’t save her life. You just- just recorded her. Fu-fucking creep.” Toby is standing beside you suddenly.

You genuinely cannot tell if Toby is playing around or not. “Toby,” You gently place a hand on his arm, without thinking about it. Toby does not relax; in fact, he grows more tense. “I’m feeling generous. I mean, I did not die. That’s a plus! And, uh, you guys are kind of all I have right now, I don’t want there to be tension in the house…”

“Wow,” Toby smirks at you. He’s about to say something diabolical, “Me- Me saving your life and the h-head you got from Tim really has you f-feeling generous, huh?”

Your hand drops from Toby’s arm. You snap your head towards him and stare, mouth agape. You quickly look at Tim and narrow your eyes. “You fucking told him?”

Tim looks at Brian, mimicking your shock. “You fucking told him?”

Brian laughs, hard and loud. “I mean, yeah. We all kind of live together… It was bound to get out.” He has a point.

You are still upset though. “God, at this rate, Kate knows!” Toby nods at you. You stomp your foot in frustration. “I wish I had a room!” You want to hide.

“Just go to Tim’s.”

Your jaw clenches. “Shut up! I’m trying to start over with your three!” Your fists ball up. “You guys do not make anything easy…”

For a brief moment, it’s normal. As normal as it has been. The four of you are standing in the living room, not fighting, the guys are laughing. Maybe at your expense, but nothing is going wrong. And most importantly, you are alive.

You try to ignore the fact it will not be like this forever.

[boss-poss]

See, Lethal Company's real genius is that it somehow marries two normally opposed genres, those being horror and comedy together into something greater. Mechanically it's a multiplayer looter extraction survival type game. It's designed to create stressful and scary situations by forcing you to speedrun mini randomized dungeons while monsters hunt your character to meet a certain quota (our asses are not making quota). That's not the clever part though, no, that's giving the players the ability to fuck themselves over and the hilarity that comes from it.

Anything you say into your mic is said in the game world and can be heard by certain monsters. Many items, similarly, can be used to make noise and you can bet there is little impulse control when a player finds an air horn or gets a walkie talkie. The sound of a distant honk somewhere out of nowhere is not something most players are prepared for while in a pitch black maze. Sound in this game has a doppler effect, which makes it harder to hear the further away the source is, allowing screams to fade into nothing and unintelligible yelling heard for a second before vanishing. You must rely on your senses but those are, by design, limited and regularly tricked.

Because level layouts, monster locations, and item spawns are all random, it's insanely easy to get lost or lose track of thigs, especially in the dark and especially when panicking. Seeing a bracken for the first time will almost certainly send a player running in the opposite direction and get lost, if they even see it all. No one is prepared to have a hand wrap around their face and snap their neck in an instant. It's utterly shocking and will leave you gasping in surprise to first time you experience it.

Certain weather patterns make levels harder, some even nearly impossible (looking at you eclipse), and sometimes your options are avoiding deadly lightning or not being able to see due to fog. High level moons have excessively valuable loot but also feature the worst foes and cost a fee to access, forcing a compromise between greed, ability, and resources.

Dying, likewise incurs a penalties. Your team is fined for dying and not bringing the bodies back but if you all die, all your collected loot goes poof. Gone. A team wipe can and will effectively end the run in an instant if you do something stupid like stick around when you hear "pop goes the weasel" or try to pick up that funny looking roomba. You can almost feel the pressure weighing down on your shoulders when you realize you're the last one left and you need to get back to the ship or miss the quota.

The monsters likewise, are engines of terror that are comically effective killing machines with no cohesive theme to help anticipate them. The already mentioned bracken is one of the scariest things I've seen in a game, and those technically aren't even that bad. They're completely manageable if you keep your head on a swivel and pay attention to your surroundings. Coilheads are these mannequins with bobble heads that will path to and kill you in a microsecond the moment you aren't looking at them, weeping angel style. There's a thing called the ghost girl that I have yet to see but is apparently one of the most terrifying critters in the menagerie. Forest giants. If you know, you know.

All these little mechanics, these choices that are made by and for the player, create a maelstrom of unpredictable chaos that, like a buxom blond transforming into an orgasming pooltoy, turns what would be strictly serious horror into a unique form of dark comedy that layers over it like jelly on peanut butter. You are scared, you are on edge, and it only gets worse when you know what these things are capable of, but the sheer hopelessness is something you all have in common. It's funny how little hope you have. You will die. A monster will wipe your team. There will eventually come a quota you can't beat. You were doomed from the start.

So why not get silly with it? Why not try to fight that bracken with shovel? Fuck him. Why not just run past a turret and try to nab that fat jar of pickles? Why not wander off from the group? You're just as likely to come back with arms loaded and the quota met as you are likely to not come back at all. You're already dead, so take the gamble, do stupid shit, repeat this hell until you can meet its horrors with grim determination and put in the effort to afford that goddamn boombox. Dance. Just press 1 and dance the fear away.

You are all united in your mortality and duty, fragile sacks of flesh working to break even at the behest of perhaps the greatest horror of all: The company you work for. You are so preposterously fucked beyond all belief from every angle there really isn't enough adjectives to describe it. And that's comedy baby, when things are so bad all you can do is laugh.

[theballadofmars]

RANKING TGCF CHARACTERS BY HOW LONG I THINK THEY WOULD SURVIVE IN FNAF:

12. QI RONG: dies in night 1 at 12:30 A.M because doesn't listen to Phone Guy's instructions and wanders around the pizzeria. Probably kicked an animatronic because he's bored.

11. LANG QIANQIU: tried to be calm and serene about the situation, but gets anxious and angry and goes fight the animatronics. Leaves the security office and Foxy inmediatly kills him.

10. BEEFLEAF: if they're together they die in night 1 because sqx gets braver at hx's side and is curious, goes to explore and brings hx along. Obviously, they get killed.

9. HE XUAN: they go to the kitchen for a midnight snack at 5:00 A.M and finds Chica there. She kills them.

8. FENG XIN: survives night 1 (he didn't listen to the instructions so is a miracle), but runs out of patience in night 2 and fights the animatronics when they try to enter the office instead of closing the door. He loses.

7. SHI QINGXUAN: if they are alone, they will just panic. They talk to the animatronics and scream. Survives two nights (yeyy!!!), but the third night they're so afraid that they close the door and run out of power.

6. QUAN YIZHEN: doesn't listen to Phone Guy's instructions, falls asleep and somehow survives night 1 and 2 like that. Third night is when he can't sleep because of the noise, fights the animatronics to shut them up and ends up getting killed by the Cupcake.

5. PEI MING: so, this may seem a weird placement, but pm is actually pretty competent in his job. Plus, he makes Chica uncomfortable so he only has to fight three animatronics. But by night 4 he becomes too confident in his surviving skills and forgets to check Foxy as much as he should and dies.

4. FENGQING: they would go together, because is fengqing and they're a dynamic duo. They yell all the time, but also work great together. They die at night 4 because they're in the middle of an argument, forget about the animatronics (it's not the first time this happens) and Golden Freddy kills them because he can't deal with them yelling / making out anymore.

3. MU QING: almost survives 5 nights, but after 4 days of this he gets a bit cocky and he's killed at 5.00 A.M by Golden Freddy.

2. XIE LIAN: ok, listen. Xl is about to die every night, but somehow survives at the last minute. The animatronics are pretty confused about this. He ends the week without problem, but when he goes for his paycheck he is bitten by one of the animatronics and spends the rest of his life paying the hospital debt and dealing with ptsd, which you could argue that is worse than death.

1. LING WEN: she's lw. Job with terrible hours, with lots of multitasking where they don't pay you enough to deal with this shit? That's her territory. Survives 5 nights + the extra night + custom night 20/20 mode.

HONORABLE MENTIONS for characters that didn't make it to the ranking because they're just like that:

-HUA CHENG: he's not trapped with the animatronics, the animatronics are trapped with him. This bitch would survive the first night and come back the next day with a bat made of steel and break every animatronic. Then burns the place down. If this is after xl gets bitten, the animatronics don't survive even a day.

-HUALIAN: they fuck in the security office. The animatronics are uncomfortable and don't approach them.

-SHI WUDU: works one night, then sues the company. He's now the owner of Fazbear Enterteiment. And maybe William's next victim.

-YUSHI HUAN & PEI SU: spent one night there, don't come back because it's not worth it.

-YIN YU: is Phone Guy. He dies at night 4 but special mention anyway because Phone Guy.

-JUN WU: would be the fucking killer. Gets springlocked and makes it everyone's problem.

RANKING SVSSS

RANKING MDZS

[puppetwoman17]

I would like to expand on the joker junior idea. Imagine Batman going to arkham to interrogate Joker for another case, leading to him getting beaten by bats while laughing about how he not only failed Jason but Tim as well. Laughing about how he tortured him, revealing his identity, how easy it was to break him. Batman then threatening to end him and joker replied with "Oh Batsy, if you truly were capable of doing it then Junoir wouldn't have needed to shoot me".

While that was happening everyone except was listening in the whole time and are seething about everything they heard until Tim put his ear piece back on that he took off before Batman started his interrogation because he knows it will get them nowhere so he tries to find a new lead (not because the very sound of Joker's laughter sends him back to when he was screaming as he was getting electrocuted and injected with joker venom that ridiculous he's fine) and told Bruce that he found another lead, getting him to stop pummeling Joker and leaving while he was left there laughing.

Sorry if this is all over the place it was something I came up with after reading your posts. Keep up the good work!

Thank you so much for this!

God that would honestly be mortifying for everyone involved(except the Joker obvi). All the kids are expecting him to taunt Bruce about Jason, and he does. He teases him on how he couldn’t get there in time and how his son still blamed him. Which, sure, Jason has his own gripes with his death, but the Joker is the person who he is LEAST okay with saying this.

But then things take a turn. The Joker starts talking about his SON, and since when did the Joker have a son? He calls him Junior. Teases the Bat that he was too late in saving him, and his boy would ALWAYS be a part of your little Red Ro—

Holy fucking shit.

Nightwing is screaming now. He demands that Batman tell them what the Joker meant. Why hadn’t he been told? What happened to Tim? Why did the Joker know him so well?

Jason is close to having a panic attack, because not only is the one person who scares him anymore on the loose, but he did the same to Tim. To his little brother. To someone who he’s grown close with over the years. Who definitely had a rocky relationship with him. Who talked with him despite that and worked with him despite that. To hear that that very same little brother had been attacked the same way he had, and worse, is more than enough to send the Red Hood on a rampage. The Joker isn’t escaping again, that’s for sure.

Cass is not one to make her presence known. She knows how to keep quiet. How to wait for the right time to strike, but she’s on the Joker in the next possible minute. Even Batman steps back and watches as she beats the person who hurt her brother into the ground. Batman doesn’t know whether to cheer her on, or tell her to stop.

Spoiler is the only one with Tim, and she can’t help but just stare. She doesn’t speak, she doesn’t yell or cry or accuse him of keeping such a heavy secret, she just looks at him. Not with pity, but with the sinking realization that no one knew. Not even her.

Damian wasn’t allowed to leave the cave. He’s sitting by the Batcomputer with Alfred behind him. While he and Drake didn’t have the closest relationship, it’s been some time since he truly thought of him as anything but his brother. He learned from him frequently, how to handle a specific gadget, how to deal with the Batman when his temper flared(slightly, he’s not an asshole anymore Dami(WHAT DO YOU MEAN ANYMORE??)). To hear about this horrifying experience and not be able to comfort Drake made him squirm in his seat.

He’s even more surprised when Pennyworth doesn’t give a single indication that he knows. Nightwing demands that Agent A tell them why he hid this from them. Everyone is shocked when he tells them he is just as clueless.

This is all background noise to Red Robin, because he just got a lead on where the Joker’s goons could be. He doesn’t pay attention to anyone’s words, instead telling Batman that he has a lead and to meet him at a location.

When all this is over and the Joker is back in custody, all Commissioner Gordon can do is pat Tim on the back and tell him to go the fuck home and sleep.

When all this is over, Babs locks up the Clocktower because she’s not dealing with this shit til she’s had her morning coffee.

[rachalixie]

Can yyou write something for minho x reader where they're maybe hanging out with the rest of skz in public or something and she gets sacred or something and hold/tugs on minhos shirt and minho gets all soft and just 😳☹️🤧

a/n: this took me entirely too long, the months long writers block is getting to me!! but i hope you like it, it is definitely inspired by the recent haunted house content hehe

you don’t know how you ended up here.

well actually, you do. it was seungmin and jeongin’s doing, dragging the rest of the boys and you along with them to this haunted house in the middle of may when there shouldn’t be haunted houses outside of autumn.

and really, you were all game on the drive there, teasing felix where he sat wringing his hands together and biting his bottom lip in nervousness. you’ve never been to a haunted house, but you were more excited than anything. you liked scary movies enough, the sheer ridiculousness of it made you laugh more than scream in fear. how could this be any different?

but as you’re standing there, halfway through the building and breathless from the way you’ve been shrieking, you regret everything about agreeing to be here. turns out, real life jump scares are much worse than ones on a screen. you’ve been glued to minho’s side the entire time you’ve been here, so close to asking him to turn back and leave through the entrance even though you have the same amount of distance left until the exit.

you’re towards the back, letting the two youngest lead the group and chan, the ever protective leader, is trailing behind you and minho at the end. it would be nice to have him as a protective wall if he didn’t cower to the side every time a single noise was heard, exposing your backs to whatever was behind you. you couldn’t complain though - you were doing the exact same thing.

between the screeches and taunts of the clowns and ghosts and creeping zombies jumping out at you and the combined chorus of yells from your party, you’re overwhelmed. you grip onto minho’s shirt, turning your face to hide into his chest and you have to walk in an awkward sideways shuffle but hearing his fluttering heartbeat under your ear is comforting enough to make it worth it.

the thing is, you know he’s scared too. you saw his face when you arrived there and he heard the screams coming from inside, no matter how hard he tries to hide it you can always read his feelings like the words are written across his features.

or maybe it’s the way he’s gripping onto your hand, the one not tangled into his shirt, like a lifeline. you don’t know who is squeezing tighter, but it will be a miracle if neither of you end up with numb fingertips by the time you get out of here.

you hear him gasp and you peek up at him to see his furrowed brow and slightly parted pout as he looks at you with wide eyes. neither of you are very keen on public affection - you’d prefer to keep your cuddles and smiling kisses and heated touches at home, safe and protected and yours. to have you tucked into him like this because you’re scared was a new experience.

you can practically see the gears turning in his head as his gaze flickers back and forth between you and the dark hallway you’re surrounded by. when you flinch at a bang behind you, his eyes turn bright and he wraps an arm around you, pinning you to him as he shuffles you along. he covers your exposed ear with his hand, blocking out the sounds, and sooner than you think you’re walking out of the building that you swear you’ll never step foot in again.

somehow you’re miles ahead of the others, and you get to watch them a wander out in various shades of disarray. felix is draped across jisung’s shoulders, looking like one of the ghosts that were haunting you just moments ago. jeongin and seungmin were grinning and excitedly recounting their favorite parts, and chan looks a second away from murdering them. hyunjin is coddling changbin, a hilarious contrast to how they usually function.

and minho still has a protective arm around you, gazing warily at the exit doors like something was going to follow you out of there. you lean up to press a kiss to his cheek, letting your lips linger on his skin for a moment before pulling back. it shocks him out of whatever state he was in, and his eyes go soft when he looks at you.

“okay?” he asks, low enough so no one but you could hear. his voice is like music to your ears after they were attacked by the loud sounds of your friends.

“yes,” you grin, leaning into him a little bit more. “my hero.”

[kasiers]

a/n: my october spooky szn contribution

haunted houses with satoru would be chaotic in the best and worst ways.

you knew the moment he suggested that you both hit up one of the biggest haunted houses in town, a smug grin already formed on his lips. after all, satoru did think it would be hilarious to see how you’d react. 

as you both approach the entrance, you feel the eerie vibe instantly. fog billows out from the doorway, and creepy music is playing from hidden speakers. the sound of distant screams echoes through the air. you glance at your boyfriend, who’s looking down at you, wrapped around his arm, eyes glinting with excitement. 

"you’re not scared, are you?" satoru teases, which promptly makes you lightly smack his arm.

"oh hush it, not even close," you shot back. although the ominous groans from inside the house made you slightly doubt your words.

as soon as you stepped inside, the lights flickered, and a creepy clown jumped out from behind a curtain. you flinch and jump back, tightening the hold on satoru’s arm for support. he just laughed, completely unfazed, though he’d be lying if he said he didn’t jump back himself.

sure enough, you both kept going and a grotesque figure lunged at you from behind a door. this time, you manage to keep your cool, but satoru slightly flinches— a tiny movement that you definitely notice.

"hm? what was that?" you hum, raising an eyebrow.

he scoffs, waving it off like nothing happened. "please, nothing can scare me, there was a fly."

you roll your eyes, knowing better. he underestimates the haunted house, thinking he's above getting startled. but as you make your way deeper, the rooms get darker, the sounds creepier, and the tension starts to build.

as you both move forward, you enter a narrow hallway with mirrors on both sides. the reflections are distorted, adding to the confusion. satoru walks ahead, confident, until a hand reaches out from one of the mirrors.

"holy shi—!" he jerks back, eyes wide in shock. for the first time, you see actual fear flash across his face.

you burst into laughter, ignoring your own fears now as you clutch your stomach. "oh, so nothing can scare you, huh?"

"that... that doesn't count," he huffs, trying to regain his composure, but his cheeks are slightly pink, his pride clearly taking a hit.

the haunted house only gets worse from there. in one room, animatronics start to malfunction, moving erratically and making strange noises. your boyfriend nudges you ahead, insisting you lead the way, though he claims it's because he's "letting you have the spotlight." but when an actor covered in blood jumps out of a coffin with a blood-curdling scream, he’s the one who yells.

"not a word," he says quickly, glaring at you when you give him a smug look.

then, you reach the grand finale. a pitch-black room where eerie whispers fill the air. you can't see a thing, and every sound makes your heart race. you feel satoru shift closer, his arm wrapping around your shoulders. you glance up at him, surprised, but he looks dead serious.

"what?" he mutters. "i wouldn’t want them jumping at you."

suddenly, something brushes against your leg, and both of you freeze. a gust of cold air whooshes past, and his grip tightens. "wh… what the hell was that?" he stutters, his voice a little higher pitched than usual.

you snort, trying to hold in your laughter. "you’re scared!"

"i am not!" but he’s looking around like he’s expecting a ghost to pop out at any second.

just when you think you’re in the clear, a deafening scream erupts from the shadows, and this time, satoru practically jumps out of his skin as he screams out yet again. he grabs your hand and pulls you forward in a hurry, not even bothering to hide his panic.

by the time you stumble out of the exit, both of you are breathless. you bent over, hands on your knees as laughter bubbles up uncontrollably.

“satoru you…” you gasp, pointing at him. “you yelled louder than the ghost!”

the young man straightens himself, running a hand through his white locks as if to shake off the embarrassment, but his cheeks are flushed. not from fear, obviously, but from the totally unexpected jump scares. he shoots you a glare, “did not!”

you raise an eyebrow, still laughing. “did not? satoru, the scare actor looked confused because you screamed louder than they did!”

he rolls his eyes, pulling you closer as the two of you walk away from the haunted house. “next time, we’re goin’ to have to go trick or treating. no jump scares. just pumpkins and candy.”

you laugh again, nudging him playfully. “i’ll make sure to bring earplugs in case you start thinking the parents giving out candies are scare actors. 

he groans, but pulls you closer, “you’re lucky you’re cute, or i’d definitely throw you back into that haunted house.”

[synthetickitsune]

Tiger In A Cage ✧ k.sy

Pairing: Ghost!Hoshi x reader Genre: fluff Summary: You just wanted to get a new chair but fate had different plans. Also, noise cancelling earphones are useless against wailing ghosts. Word count: 1.7k A/N: for my forever muse coming after my life and (real!) future tiger wife @hanniedream ily 🥺🫶🏻

It’s not supposed to be loud. In fact, you should be able to hear only your playlist, so what the hell. You wince once more at the loud wail that threatens to split your skull in two. Exactly what you hoped to avoid by plugging your ears with earphones.

If there is one thing noise canceling doesn’t help with, though, it’s ghosts.

Must be one of the poor, long forgotten souls that went mad with eternity spent alone. Its screeching is incoherent and echoes through the corridors. It’s fitting, though, for it to be stuck in the middle of the furniture store with its twisting paths and confusing layout that makes you feel like you’ll get lost and die in there too.

Turning the corner from the kitchen section straight into the kids section you discover that the noise is even worse. You don’t have to wonder why for long. The source is right in front of you.

The kid standing in front of two piles of toys, choosing carefully, it seems, between a tiger and an elephant, has no idea that above him a ghost is floating. And screaming on top of his lungs. Now that you’re closer you understand that the incoherent yelling is just a neverending stream of ‘tiger’ blending together.

You stop and stare, frankly taken aback. The ghost looks human, a young man. Handsome. And presumably sane, at least for the most part.

A soft oh escapes your lips and it’s as if that was the only sound the ghost can hear because his head snaps in your direction dangerously fast. Your eyes meet and you know he knows. You’ve never thought of your ability to perceive the supernatural as a curse but today? Hell no. You just wanted a new chair…

You bolt. You can sense the misty body following you more acutely than the stares of the other living humans. By the time you sprint through the gap between the automatic door that hold the ghost prisoner, your lungs burn with the need for oxygen.

You turn back to make sure the ghost didn’t slip away by some miracle but he doesn’t. He throws his body against the glass over and over again, tries the air itself when the living pass through, but he is never successful in breaking free. You feel sorry, and a little confused by your behavior. But today you really have no strength left to deal with this. With anyone, alive or not.

As if sensing your hesitation, the ghost stops and just looks at you with sadness that tugs at your already bared heartstrings.

Don’t leave me, he mouths before you turn your back and do just that.

It’s only a couple days later that you feel in the right mental space to face the ghost. Truth be told, as fitting as the place is, it’s also a little strange. So as the time draws near to the closing time and less people come in, you enter the store and begin your search.

The living room section is empty of ghosts, the entire first floor seems to be. Maybe he’s just hiding. You start to lose hope when you don’t find him on the lower floor either but surely he couldn’t be exorcised just for yelling at customers that couldn’t hear him. You check the whole place once more and then acknowledge your defeat. Maybe he just doesn’t want to be seen.

Did you hurt him last time? Some ghosts get sensitive to rejection, which is no wonder - one does get more vulnerable confined to a certain place they can’t leave. You chew on your lip as you think, almost missing the sudden feelings of mist enveloping you. You stop, the sensation similar to what you think walking through a cloud would feel like snapping you out of it. The ghost is holding you tightly.

His speech is all mumbled and incoherent again, too fast to understand, but you can’t keep standing in front of the exit for so long. The exit… The same exit you left through last time… Things always come full circle.

“Follow me,” you whisper before walking past him, pushing through him, while he wails. You give him a look and nod to the side. He stops his cries and gives you a curious look instead. You walk back towards the entrance, checking the windows to see if he got the hint - he did.

As soon as you step inside, the chilly body of the ghost wraps itself around you again.

“Slow down,” you sigh softly when he starts chanting something again.

“Stay,” he says desperately, as if it took immense effort to slow down and get it out.

“I can’t, but let’s talk,” you offer. He nods vigorously but remains stuck to your body. As awkward as you feel, you accept it for now. You have no idea how long he’s been alone and it feels entirely different from a random living stranger hugging you.

You walk in silence for a while until you find a secluded living room display and you act very interested in all the furniture and decorations.

“What’s your name?” you ask, looking around to make sure you’re alone. You don’t exactly fancy being overheard or seen by strangers.

“Soonyoung,” he responds eagerly before he quickly calms down and the frown comes through in his words as well, “But before you ask, I don’t remember what happened. Sorry. Please don’t leave me.”

It’s a little disappointing you won’t get the answer to the mystery so easily but it can’t be helped. You suppose asking a guy how he died wouldn’t be a proper topic for your first conversation.

“It’s fine,” you smile instead, “Could you, uhm, let me go? I promise I won’t run off before the closing time.”

“You could stay. I’d show you where to hide,” Soonyoung pleads with you. His eyes wide with hope and desperation. He unraveled himself from you, but his hands are still clutching yours.

“I think it wouldn’t work as well as you think,” you try to be gentle as you let him down, “But I’ll be back, I promise.”

He makes you pinky promise. You do. The ghost seems satisfied after that, falling into a comfortable conversation that is admittedly slightly one sided after the initial investigation as to how is it possible that you see him and if there’s a chance to make everyone else see him too. He hasn’t been like this for long, you learn, but he gets lonely easily - that much is evident. Your ears are about to get talked off.

“…and then that couple broke up I think because the girl came back after a few weeks and ordered a new bed and closet and everything. A single bed! Can you believe a guy would kick a girl out and keep all the furniture?”

“If he’s the one who paid for it, it makes sense he’d keep it,” you shrug as you stroll through the corridors. The employees are eyeing you warily, you don’t have much time left but at least the store is almost empty.

“It’s not right,” Soonyoung murmurs, “I’d never do that.”

You sigh. In just a short while you learned more about the business of local customers than you ever wished for.

“What was the last time about, by the way?” you remember suddenly, “The time I saw you yelling at the boy with the plushies.”

As if on cue, you reach the same spot. Walking over to the basket with the tiger and elephant plushies side by side, the ghost swirls around you in excitement.

“Pick the tiger one!” he urges.

“Why?”

“Tigers are the best,” he rolls his eyes at you, attempting to force the plushie into your arms.

You give in and pick up the toy, looking at the silly face. It’s nothing special, you’ve seen much better and prettier ones, but the quality is about what you’d expect of the store.

“Can you possess objects? Have you tried?” you muse aloud.

“Yeah, but I don’t do it much - it scares people,” he pouts while he speaks, his arms crossed over his chest, “And what if they buy the thing and take it away? What would happen to me?”

“It scares them because they’re not expecting it. Show me?” you raise a brow at him, dismissing his worries. It’s not like you have answers for him anyway.

You don’t have to wait long. It’s as if Soonyoung wanted to show off his skills as his face contorts in concentration before he starts to fade and eventually disappears, the plushie in your hand getting more animated with every second.

And as luck would have it, that’s the moment a store employee puts his hand on your shoulder. Telling you to quickly check out and leave because the stores will be closing, he motions towards the stairs to the first floor where the registers are. There are more people coming your way - other customers ushered to finish their business here. Suddenly it feels like you should’ve done more research on possessions.

It’s not like you can protest and try to explain yourself - and it’s not like you can just drop the plushie and abandon the ghost like that without a goodbye. It doesn’t feel right. Or maybe he hit your weak spot with his fear of getting abandoned.

So you carry the plushie and try to coax him to come out but he doesn’t. You buy the plushie, you steal the ghost.

He doesn’t come out even as you approach the exit, no matter the urgency in your voice or how much you beg. The toy gets less squishy, however, as if the tiger was bracing for something.

What will happen? You don’t know. You think he’s just going to get pulled out of the plushie, but you can’t be sure. You can only hope he’s not going to get hurt.

“Well, this is a goodbye, I guess,” you whisper to the toy and pet its head. There’s no response and so you step into the outside world.

You look back immediately, hoping to see Soonyoung, but all there is to see is the store’s interior. You wait. Then you wait some more. Still nothing. Panic starts to rise in your body.

And then - the tiger in your arms wiggles and nudges against your palm resting on your head. When you meet its button-y gaze, it gives you a wink.

Oh no.

[ms-demeanor]

Good grief, your MIL sounds like an exhausting human being to exist in the presence of (I can guess the answer, but has she ever been diagonosed? She sounds well beyond common-or-garden irrational foibles). Big respect to Large Bastard for surving that and making it to adulthood as an actual functional person. What on earth did she do to make Tiny Bastard so thoroughly terrified of any beeping sound?

She has not been diagnosed with anything professionally: very funny fun fact, she has a Bachelor's in Psychology and she thinks that therapy is a scam and that there's no psychiatric medication that actually works. I have tried to talk to her about going to see someone but when I shared how therapy had helped me deal with my history of trauma she went behind my back to try to talk large bastard into divorcing me because of my history of trauma, so that's when I decided I was done sharing anything about my life with her or putting effort into helping her.

I am continually floored by the fact that Large Bastard was raised by such staggeringly shitty people and ended up being as nice a guy as he is. Don't get me wrong, he's still an asshole, but he is not an asshole like that.

Tiny bastard is scared of beeping, metal stepladders, and used to be scared of soda cans.

The soda cans were because MiL would continually drop empty cans on the tile floors of the house and startle herself with the noise. Stepladders because if MiL got out the stepladder it meant she was going to do some kind of chore or another that would end with yelling. Beeping because MiL walked around with a timer around her neck and would jump and scream when it went off; she would jump and scream MUCH worse at more unexpected noises like the smoke alarm going off, and since she was a terrible cook in a house with not-great ventilation the smoke alarm went off a lot.

When she gets startled not only does she yell and shout, she also starts screaming at whatever has startled her. The way this typically goes is:

Object: Beep!

MiL: Augh!

MiL: Fucking bitch! Fuck!

MiL: Why did you have to do that you fucking bitch? Piece of shit. FUCK!

The yelling was also frequently accompanied by stomping feet and slamming doors, because this woman is a 75-year-old toddler.

If she is yelling because she scared herself (by dropping something that made a loud noise) the yelling will go on longer and will be more intense and self-loathing. That's why tiny bastard is MUCH more scared of stepladders than stopwatches (so we have two stepladders - my little plastic stepladder that lives on the wall of the kitchen and does not scare the dog, and the big folding metal stepladder that has been dubbed "The Puzzles Frightener.")

[rollinouttahere-writes]

Hi for the Halloween event can I please request yandere slasher trio (Zoro , Nami and Luffy please ) where Reader decided to stay with Nami since all their friends are dropping like flies ; turns out Luffy and Zoro have been doing it and Nami is the mastermind of it all please . (I’ve been watching to much scream lately XD ) 

I really love how you make reader interact with this trio in the lucky fic and the one where reader has a crush on Buggy ; honestly fair enough Buggy has got it going on 😔👌

If possible can reader be female please ; if not no worries , gn is fine ❤️

Platonic maybe please ❤️💛🧡

Okay so... remember how I mentioned that I didn't want these fics being too long because I want to get to as many as I can? Yeah... y'all probably aren't going to be surprised that I have immediately failed at that. This story is going to be split into two maybe three parts because it's getting really long and I have accepted that I will not be finishing it tonight.

Also I hope you don't mind, but the rest of the East Blue gang managed to worm their way into this fic, though they won't appear until part two. This part is Romance Dawn Trio centric. Also, I really leaned into the Scream angle, so this takes place in the 90's and everyone is in high school.

East Blue Ripper(s)

Yandere East Blue Gang x Fem Reader

4.5k words

Summary: A night home alone turns spooky when you hear screaming coming from the neighbor's house, but fortunately your friends are there to comfort you.

Warnings: light drug mentions, gendered (female presenting) reader, talk of teenage angst, pretty tame chapter but it gets more intense in the next one so stay with me

“Did you finish the reading assignment?”

The question makes you snort out a laugh. You twirl the phone cord around your finger while kicking your feet up in the air as they’re resting over the back of the couch, “Nope! I’ll skim through the chapters during lunch or something.”

“Aw, come on! I was counting on you being able to sum it up for me!” Nami’s voice crackled through the phone as she whined over your answer, “You’re usually on top of this stuff, how could you fail me like this? You know that I’m busy helping my mom with the orchard, especially with Nojiko being away at college now.”

“Hey, don’t pin that on me! You know that I’ve been stressing over the calculus test, I needed to study for it. Failing that test would be way worse than bombing some reading comprehension quiz for Catcher in the Rye.” Briefly, your eyes glance towards the backpack leaning against the couch. The book is in there, and you contemplate taking it out to at least try to read it, but you shake your head and skim your fingers over the calculus notebook propped up on your lap.

“Hey!”

“Ugh, fine. I’ll forgive you this time, but you’re on thin ice.”

Another voice comes through the phone, slightly muffled from being further away, “Be nice, Nami. It’s not (Y/N)’s fault that you were too lazy to read it yourself.”

You chuckle as Nami starts bickering with her mom. You rest the phone on the couch cushion and decide to refocus on your notes while they argue. You’re a couple of equations in when you hear something. The notebook is tossed aside, and you cover the earpiece of the phone to hear better.

It sounds like screaming.

For a moment, you stay on the couch. Yelling and screaming coming from the house next door was hardly a new thing. Bellamy, an upperclassman who graduated a couple of years ago, rented it with his gaggle of followers. If the rumors were true, it was a trap house, and you had little reason to doubt that based on all the people coming and going from it in rapid succession. It was all shockingly blatant, and it was beyond you how they haven’t been caught yet.

Just when you’re about to go back to studying, you hear more screams. These screams sound different from the usual noise you hear over there. This doesn’t sound like a party or a fight between them breaking out. Whoever just screamed sounded terrified. You set down the phone and toss your notebook aside before rolling off the couch and onto your feet.

Hesitantly, you make your way to a window facing the house and lift up one of the slats of the blinds and peer through. It’s pitch black outside, with only dim lights coming from the neighboring home. You stare harder, but you don’t see anything weird. The strangest thing is that the house seems quieter than usual, but that isn’t exactly enough for you to get worried. You sigh and drop the slat back into place. It was probably nothing. Just some stupid fight between the delinquents you live next to.

You walk back over to the couch and sit on it, properly this time, and pick the phone up to see if Nami and Bellemere are still bickering.

“-llo?! (Y/N)?! If you don’t answer me I’m going to call the police!”

“I’m here! Calm down!”

A loud, exasperated sigh comes through the phone, then the scolding begins, “What is wrong with you?! I was worried when you wouldn’t answer me! I was still holding the phone, you could have at least said that you were going to the bathroom or whatever instead of scaring me like that!”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to worry you. I just thought I heard something and had to go check it out.”

There is a pause, then Nami’s dumbfounded voice comes through the phone, “You heard a weird noise and went to investigate? What are you? The first person that dies in a horror movie?”

Your face felt hot at her pointing out how much of a horror movie faux pas you just committed, and you scramble to defend yourself, “It’s not like I went outside! I just peeked through the blinds!”

Nami sighs and you just know that she’s pinching the bridge of her nose. “What did you even hear?”

“I… I could have sworn that I heard screaming coming from next door. Where Bellamy and his cronies live.”

Once again, Nami pauses. You’re about to ask if she heard you when she finally speaks up, “... Did you see anything?”

“No, I didn’t. I couldn’t see anyone through the windows, and I haven’t heard anything else since I went to go look.”

“They were probably just fighting about something stupid like usual, or maybe a drug deal went south. Don’t worry about them.” The previous hesitancy in her voice vanished and she was now very quick to dismiss the noises you had heard as nothing, much like you.

“Yeah, you’re probably right…” You heave a sigh and rub your eyes. Perhaps you’ve had a few too many late nights and it’s making you paranoid. Maybe it wouldn’t hurt to call it a night here? “It’s been fun chatting with you tonight, but I think I’m going to-”

Another noise came from outside, but not from next door. It’s coming from one of the windows in your living room. Heavy footsteps approached the window, followed by a scraping noise. You’re paralyzed on the couch, all words caught in your throat. This would be a scary experience on its own, but after hearing screaming coming from next door, it was bone-chilling.

“Going to what? Did you cut out on me?” 

Nami’s voice instantly snaps you out of your terror-induced stupor. The phone is clutched tightly in your hands as you whisper yell into the receiver, “Someone is outside my window!”

“What?!” Any nonchalance she had previously was wiped away in an instant as she all but shrieked into the phone.

“I can hear someone trying to open the window! I don’t know what to-” 

The lock on the window clicked open.

Your mind is screaming at you to run, to scream for help, to find a weapon, literally anything but what you’re doing right now. Yet all your body can do is cower on the sofa while gripping the phone for dear life as if it will save you. Tears sting at your eyes and you can distantly register that Nami is shouting something at you, but you’ll be damned if you can understand any of it over the pounding of your heart.

The window is slid open, rattling loudly and catching on the sides repeatedly as it’s pushed up. Glimpses of an arm can be spotted through the billowing sea foam green curtains, but the rest of the intruder is obscured from view.

Both arms come through the curtains and push them aside so that the person can grab both sides of the window to pull themself through. As this person pulls themself through, you can finally see the face of your soon to be attacker and-

“Oh, god damnit! Zoro! You scared the shit out of me!”

Zoro, your classmate and friend, finishes climbing through your window and looks around your home, not once acknowledging you yelling at him. “This isn’t the dojo…”

The adrenaline leaves your system and you slump back against the couch as a wave of relief competes with the burst of irritation you’re feeling. Are you glad that a serial killer didn’t just climb through your window? Yes. Are you still mad that Zoro just scared you like that? Absolutely. You lift your head up to glower at him.

In the time that it took for you to calm your raising heart, Zoro had wandered over from the window to the couch and plopped down next to you. He was entirely unbothered. He looked over at you and nodded his head, “Hey, (Y/N).”

You want to yell at him, or hit him over the head with the phone, but you choose a different tactic. Your voice is cold as you speak, “Nami. Yell at Zoro for me.” With that, you prop up the phone at his ear and stand up, leaving him to the wrath of Nami while you go to the bathroom to refresh yourself after that ordeal.

As a lecture of epic proportions takes place behind you, you can’t help but chuckle at being able to hear Nami even from here. You step into the bathroom and close the door behind you while flicking the lights on. They flicker briefly before shining down on and illuminating the small bathroom. You only need to take one step before you’re face to face with the sink and staring at your own reflection in the mirror. The faucet knob for cold water is twisted, and you quickly splash your face with it and rub at your eye.

The water is turned off, and you return to your full height to look at your reflection again. While you dry your face and fix your hair, your mind drifts to the unexpected guest in your living room. Zoro was a friend of yours, but a very new one. You would be lying if you said that you felt particularly close to him, especially when compared to your lifelong friendship with Nami.

Both of your moms were friends, so you have pretty much been friends since birth. Well, birth for you, adoption for her. She’s been a consistent part of your life for as long as you can remember. There isn’t anyone that you feel closer to than her.

That’s why it hurt so bad when she started pulling away from you a few years ago. You two grew up being thick as thieves, only for her to suddenly stop hanging out with you and barely speak to you at school. It was around the same time when she started working at some shady restaurant that everyone knew was a front. The “restaurant” was run by a man named Arlong, someone with a horrendous reputation thanks to his short temper and the rumors that he was part of a gang.

It was beyond you why she would choose to work there, and it was even more confusing as to why that seemingly meant that you two couldn’t be friends anymore. It was a massive blow to you, especially when any attempt at confronting her on it led to her shutting down and not saying anything, which later escalated into her snapping at you to just leave her the hell alone and to go bother someone else for once in your life… You aren’t proud to admit that those words completely broke you and led to your own flurry of unkind words that you would spend years deeply regretting. It also led to your friendship officially ending.

This was, of course, a very painful point in your life, though you had at least one good thing come out of it. While you were mourning the death of your friendship with Nami, a new one had developed in its place. After the explosive fight with Nami, you accepted that you needed a new table to sit at during lunch. A part of you wanted to hide away in a bathroom stall, but even while in the throes of teenage angst, you couldn’t bring yourself to eat on a toilet. That led you to finding the quietest, most empty table and sitting at it. There was only one other person on it, and she immediately took you sitting with her as a proposition for friendship and surprised you by dragging you to the mall after school to hang out. At the time, you had been annoyed to have your solitude forcibly intruded upon like that, but you quickly realized how nice it felt to finally have someone to spend time with again. 

That friend you made was a girl named Perona. You had only ever seen her in passing before, and while you never had a problem with her, you never went out of your way to get to know her either. She was something of an outcast at the school. Not for any good reason, though the reasons usually never are, she was merely a victim of circumstance. Her father ran the Moria Funeral Home, and that was enough to make everyone else deem her weird and creepy. The labels never seemed to bother her. If anything, she leaned into it. Perona fully embraced the weird girl aesthetic and by all accounts had fun with it. It was a trait that you really came to admire in her as you two grew closer. Perona became a rock for you when you were at your lowest and helped to make you feel like you could move on from Nami and leave all that friend drama in the past.

So imagine your surprise when at the beginning of this school year, Nami approached you to make amends and to “pick up where you left off”. At first, you were rightfully dubious of this abrupt change of heart. You thought that she was fucking with you. That concern was only intensified when you saw that she had a whole entourage of new friends. You thought for sure that she was going to mock and make a fool out of you again for the sake of looking cool in front of them. You had every intention of brushing her off like she had done to you all those years ago.

But, obviously, that isn’t how it went. Not only was Nami persistent, so were all of her new friends. They were all aggressively trying to befriend you and vouch for Nami. Zoro, tonight’s intruder, was by far the most aloof about it. He just kinda… started following you around. It was mostly creepy to begin with, but it did come with the pleasant side effect of all of the school bullies leaving you alone thanks to how intimidating he was.

Sanji’s approach was the polar opposite. You had been aware of him in passing before, and even caught a handful of stray compliments from him on occasion, but now you are pretty sure that he has deluded himself into believing that he’s your boyfriend. The second you come into view, your ears are greeted by him all but screaming “(Y/N), my love!” through the crowded hallway. A more than mortifying experience that had unfortunately become a daily occurrence. At least he made up for it by bringing you admittedly delicious lunches for school.

Usopp had inserted himself into your life as if you had been best friends for years, including by sharing stories of past moments together that literally never happened. He had a reputation for being a liar, and while that was accurate, he’s also a funny and genuinely nice guy now that you’ve gotten to know him. He even helps you out with your homework if you ask. Out of all of the new people introduced to you through Nami’s return, he was probably the one you got along with the best.

And then there was Luffy. He was an interesting character to say the least. Much like Usopp, he was also acting like you two were best friends right off the bat. He’s always slinging an arm around your shoulders and trying to drag you off to whatever adventure he’s concocted that day, or inviting himself over to your house. Sometimes during the day like a normal person, or sometimes he scares the hell out of you by crawling through your window in the middle of the night like some sort of sleep paralysis demon so he can recruit you into whatever late night scheme he came up with.

Perhaps it was a testament to how much you missed Nami, but in the end they managed to get through to you and become people you considered friends. More importantly, they helped to bridge the gap between you and Nami so you two could finally make up and be friends again. Having Nami’s friendship back was all that you had ever wanted in your years apart, and words could not describe the relief that you felt when you could finally put all of that pain and misery behind you.

But, now really wasn’t the time to be dwelling on the past. You still had to deal with Zoro, didn’t you? You slap your cheeks a few times to get yourself back into the present moment, then exit the bathroom. Nami’s voice can no longer be heard echoing down the halls, so you guess she either calmed down, or -more likely- Zoro hung up on her. You step into the living room only to be greeted by a whole other problem grinning at you.

“Hi, (Y/N)!”

There, sitting cross-legged in front of the shelf containing your family’s collection of VHS tapes, was Luffy. He smiled and waved at you, completely carefree and offering zero explanation as to what he’s doing in your house.

“When did you get here?”

Luffy went back to going through the tapes. “A few minutes ago. You left the window open, so I let myself in.” He started humming to himself while pulling out tapes to examine them.

Actually, Zoro left the window open, but you decided not to harp on the details. God knows that Luffy wouldn’t care. The much more important thing to get to the bottom of was why Luffy and Zoro were even here. You glance back at the couch to see that Zoro is still there. He’s sprawled out with his arms crossed behind his head. The landline had been tossed haphazardly onto the side table, and had indeed been hung up. You’re sure that Nami is going to have a word or two to say about that in person when she sees Zoro at school tomorrow.

“Okay, why are you two here at,” you look up at the clock on the wall, “almost 11 at night?”

Luffy was quick to pipe up with an answer, “We were walking back home after hanging out with Usopp.” 

That made no sense, and you quickly point that out, “He lives on the other side of town. How the hell did you end up over here?”

“Zoro said he knew a shortcut, so I let him lead the way. That was pretty dumb of me, huh?” Luffy chuckled after his explanation, which evolved into full on laughter when Zoro threw a pillow at him from across the room.

While you were still annoyed, you had to admit that his story made sense. Zoro could get lost in a paper bag, so it isn’t at all shocking that he could have wandered over to your place while trying to get back to the kendo dojo he lived out of. 

“It’s cool if we crash here for the night, right? I don’t want Zoro getting us even more lost.”

The question surprised you. Shocked you even. While you’ve had them over to hang out before, typically with everyone else, the only people you’ve ever had stay overnight were Nami and Perona for obvious reasons, ones that you’re quick to voice, “No way! My mom will freak out if she finds out that I let boys spend the night!”

Luffy pouts at your answer, but it’s Zoro who speaks up this time, “Her shift doesn’t end until 8, right? We’ll already be at school by the time she gets home. She’ll have no way of knowing that we were ever here.”

What Zoro said was true. Your mom worked overnight shifts as an ER nurse at the local hospital. She probably won’t know so long as you all clean up and neither of them leave any evidence behind. Still… it feels risky, and you really don’t want to risk pissing off your mom by surprising her with two unexpected guests if she comes home early for whatever reason.

Sensing your unease at the idea, Luffy springs up and hurries over to you. He takes both of your hands into his own and stares into your eyes with a pleading gaze. “Come on, please! We’ve never gotten to have a sleepover before! It’ll be fun! We can watch a movie or something! Please!” Luffy is begging you as if you’re Sanji and he’s trying to get more Baratie leftovers. 

You don’t really want to say yes… but you know that Luffy isn’t the kind of person to take no for an answer. This would probably be fine. Your mom basically never came home early. You should be able to keep them having been here a secret. You take a deep breath, then relent, “Fine. You guys can spend the night.”

Before you can even blink, Luffy is scooping you up into a hug. Your feet are lifted off the ground as he spins you around and cheers victoriously. You’re dropped back onto your feet, and Luffy wastes absolutely no time before sprinting over to the shelf to grab a movie to watch. 

“Hey, wait. It’s really late. Shouldn’t we just go to sleep now?” Your protest was weak, and you could practically hear the answer before Luffy even said it.

“I thought you’ve had sleepovers before. You know that you aren’t supposed to sleep at sleepovers!” Luffy pulled a VHS case off the shelf and hurried over to the TV to put it in. It would seem that his mind was made up. Looks like you’re having an impromptu movie night. Luffy turned on the VHS player and cracked open the case. As he pushes the tape into the player, he looks over his shoulder at you with another one of his infectious smiles, “Do you have any popcorn?”

“Yeah… I’ll go make some.” With a sigh, you straighten up and wander into the kitchen to get started on the popcorn. Sock clad feet pad across the linoleum floor as you make your way to the pantry to grab a stovetop popcorn pan. Typically, you would only make one of these if Nami or Perona was over, or if you and your mom were having a movie night on one of her rare nights home, but it wasn’t unheard of for you to knock back one of these on your own. It shouldn’t raise any suspicion from your mom when she comes back home in the morning.

The pan is dropped onto the front right burner and you grab the temperature control knob, turning on the gas, then quickly igniting it into a controlled fire to heat the popcorn. From here, you can faintly hear the distinct sound of the tape being rewound. Ah, yeah, you and your mom do have a tendency to forget to do that when the movie is over. 

You can’t help but wonder which movie Luffy picked out. He was partial to action movies. Stuff like Jurassic Park, the Terminator movies, Star Wars, that kind of thing. Though with it being October, he was on a bit of a horror movie kick. Last week, you guys watched both Predator movies and made it through the first two Alien movies while hanging out at Usopp’s place. None of you were particularly big fans of the third one, so Usopp didn’t even bother renting it from Blockbuster. 

Popping kernels snap you out of your pondering and you glance down to see the aluminum top rapidly expanding. You quickly start shaking the pan to help circulate the kernels to keep them from heating unevenly and burning. Before long, the popping subsides and you know that the popcorn is ready. You cut the gas and move the pan to another burner, then crouch down to dig the large popcorn bowl out from its place in the cabinet. 

As soon as the popcorn is dumped in, you pick up the bowl to bring it to the living room and find the lights already off and the movie playing. Luffy and Zoro are seated on either side of the couch, leaving only the space between them open. You sit down, and your ass has barely hit the cushion before Luffy is grabbing a fistful of popcorn.

You look up at the screen, and it takes you a minute to clock which movie is playing. A man is getting into a car in a snow covered setting and speeding down the road. Realization dawns on you as the driver begins losing control of the car.

“Is this Misery?”

Luffy nods enthusiastically, “I heard Nami talking about it. She said it was really good!” He turns his head away from the screen to look at you properly. “Why? Do you not like it?”

“I like it well enough, I’m just not sure you will. I think you’ll find it a bit boring compared to what you usually watch, that’s all.” You quickly toss some popcorn into your mouth, eyes flicking back to the screen as the door to famed writer Paul Sheldon’s car is pried open by his obsessed fan, Annie Wilkes. The first time you watched this movie was when you were spending the night at Perona’s house. She was something of a horror movie buff and would watch them year round. Naturally, your friendship with her meant partaking in her interest. You’d seen a handful before, but she really got you into the genre and would bring you with her to the theater every time there was a new one.

Your reminiscing is cut short by Luffy. “But it’s a horror movie. How can it be boring?”

“I mean, it’s not boring boring, it’s just more of a psychological thriller rather than the gorey action horror movies you tend to gravitate towards.” You eat another handful of popcorn and spare a glance at Zoro, only to find that he has already fallen asleep. Whatever. You’re sure that Luffy will happily eat Zoro’s share of popcorn and most of yours.

“If it’s a thriller, it has to be fun, right?” Luffy throws his legs over your lap and you have to act fast to lift the popcorn bowl and prevent it from getting spilled everywhere. You move it to rest in the gap between yours and Luffy’s laps since it’s just going to be you two eating it.

“I guess so. Maybe I’m wrong and you’ll like it.” You sink further into the back of the couch, eyes already feeling heavy. It’s pretty unlikely that you’ll make it through the entire movie, and knowing Luffy, he will probably get bored and be out not long after you.

While you may have gone into this forced hangout a little annoyed by the whole situation, all in all, this wasn’t a terrible way to spend the night. If it weren’t for these two showing up, you likely would have spent the night being paranoid about the screaming you thought you heard earlier that was now little more than a distant memory.

You felt safe. You could trust them. There is absolutely nothing to fear.

[porkcracker]

Hello!!

I just wanna say I really liked your Optimus father figure headcannons and Ratchet grandpa figure headcannons! It was really nice!

I was wondering if you can do a oneshot of those headcannons with a Non-binary reader? I think it'd be really wholesome and nice to see ^^

I was staring at this ask for a very long time and man I wish I had time to answer it quicker, because it hits some buttons. I'm happy you liked my headcanons btw. Still being probably months late, I still hope you enjoy this.

Dad!Optimus & Grandpa!Ratchet & NB!Reader It had been in no way your fault, but nonetheless you still found yourself shrinking into yourself as Optimus looked at you with a disappointed look in his bright blue optics. As the oldest of the humans on base, you had taken to watching over the three younger ones. Which as a result lead to you being equally in trouble, when they got in trouble and like in moments like this had broken something. You had been busy with yourself for a few minutes, so there was no clear way to say who had started it, but by the time yells and screams had drawn your attention they were running around the base, chasing each other with water guns.

To a degree you could understand them, the summer was hot, and even the base could grow uncomfortably warm at the height of the day, but to use water guns? Around a lot of technology? An exasperated sigh had left you, and you had to move to stop them, yelling after them. Alas, too late, an over enthusiastic shot from Miko had missed its intended target of Raf and instead hit Ratchets workstation. You watched with bated breath hoping it would do no damage, relaxing as it seemed to be fine and turning to the equally frozen kids, when there was a crackling noise and just as you turned back around the previously lit display darkened.

As the Bots returned, the children and their guardians were quickly sent on their way to bring said children home, which left you alone with Optimus and Ratchet. Ratchet had not left his damaged station since returning, attempting to fix the damage. Optimus on the other hand had turned to you. Which was what had led to this moment. The big bot wasn't angry, but the disappointment in his optics was far more disheartening in your opinion. Disappointing Optimus never sat right with you at all, not that you had been at this point very often before. No, rather, you were far more commonly sitting on his shoulder and conversing with him.

"(Y/N), I'm very glad that you watch the younger ones when you're alone at base, but if you need help than please do tell me. I would not want you to be overwhelmed by watching three other humans by yourself. I am quite sure, leaving one of the others at base to help you, would be manageable.", his voice was as gentle as always and perhaps the fact that he was seemingly more concerned for you than the damaged equipment and even considered leaving someone at base was worse. With the Deceptions being more experienced fighters and having no qualms, leaving someone to watch would be impractical. While usual Ratchet was at base, he was ready to leave base when necessary, so to stop that would be impractical.

Still you nodded and watched, still hunched into yourself, as Optimus joined Ratchet to look at the damage from the equipment. Coming to a decision, the next day, when the Bots and the kids left base, you made your way towards the workstation and had a closer look at the damage. It was quickly clear why such technically minimal water damage made this much trouble. The cables were sized for humans and while it must have been hard to connect when building the station it had no casing then and no it did, making it even harder for big cybertronian hands to work half hidden small human cables.

It didn't take long to get a torch and a few tools from your back, something you carried with you just in case, since you had started to get along better with Ratchet, often listening to his stories and grumbled life advice. Once back at the workstation, you turned the torch on and climbed into the casing of the workstation and working along the few small cables that needed to be fixed. Fixated on your work, it only registered that Optimus and Ratchet had come over, both not out with the others, when they began to talk, or well you assumed began to talk as you hadn't registered it before.

"It's almost amusing to watch you, how do the humans say it, mother hen them.", the sentence made you slow in your work with curiosity, wondering if they were talking about the other kids, your curiosity mirrored by the confused tone of Optimus. "What do you mean, old friend?" "Hah, it's obvious. (Y/N), you talk like you're their creator.", the way Ratchet said it was not judgemental, rather it seemed genuinely amusing. "I-", Optimus began, but was cut almost off immediately by a yelp. Both bots snapped their helms around, looking around, pinpointing the origin just as you crawled out of the casing of the workstation, your finger bleeding where you had slipped at the answer of the medic.

Before you could even fully get over the hem of the workstation, Ratchet scooped you up and walked off with words of chiding for injuring yourself. As much as Optimus had been caught off-guard by the words of his old friend, reflecting on them proofed them true. But alas, at least he was not the only one, he mused quietly as he watched said old friend fret over your cut with a rare care in his optics.

[gojoswhitebabydolllashes]

CHARLES XAVIER IS HOT? -WADE

Logan howlett x reader

-

DEADPOOL AND WOLVERINE SPOILERS!!! AND DAYS OF FUTURE PAST BUT I CAN ONLY HOPE EVERYONE HAS SEEN THAT.

-

Warnings: erm idk. Kinda a short one. All will make sense soon. God help me. Major Canon divergence

-

When i first joined the x-mansion as a student, Charles Xavier was old. Though I had heard from plenty of people who knew him as a young adult that he was rather good looking.

I refused to think of my old and wrinkly professor in that way. Mostly because he'd see it and be absolutely horrified I assume.

-

"Logan, I don't think there's anyone here," I stated as he approached the mansion.

Covered in vines and surrounded by rotting timber and splintering trees, the x mansion had Definitely seen better days.

"It's not looking likely that's For sure" he replied.

"Do you guys think Happy Wheels will be here? God I wanna see that old fucker"

Wade was trying to be funny, but Logan and I just glared at him and kept walking. The door to the mansion was rotting and chipping away.

"I think we're in the past" I said, guessing mostly.

Logan pushed open the door gently, and inside stood one man. He was raggedy and bearded.

"Who the hell are you?" I asked the stranger.

"My name is Charles Xavier," he stated, "the real question is who are you? All of you"

"Ho-ly fuck! Charles Xavier is hot?" Wade Gasped loudly with his hands to his mouth

"Was" Logan corrected

"I don't knooooow. I'd let old rolly hit it too"

Me and logan both made disgusted noises.

-

🧠

When Xavier first learnt, I could also use telepathy. It was when I tried to kill Jean. He stopped me and told me to find him in the office.

He tried to help me control it and tried to help me let it get under control so that I wouldn't go insane. But I did. I went crazy, and I would scream and cry and yell and rattle the walls.

And then, one day, without any warning.

It stopped.

I never rattled another wall again

-

"So, you're all from the future?" Charles furrowed his eyebrows.

"More or less, yeah, we're not supposed to be here" Logan spoke.

Well, we have been here before technically. We're just a bit out of time. I scratched my neck awkwardly.

"We didn't necessarily come here to find you. We just have to get back home" I said to charles

Wade's mouth was still agape. "Jesus, you are gorgeous, aren't you?" He was close and personal with Charles, he might as well have been inside his skin.

"Jesus man, have you ever heard of personal space or decency?" Charles scoffed and stood up, walking away from wades perverse self.

"And turn those fucking thoughts off" Charles groaned and pointed to Wade.

"Listen. I know how crazy we are from the future sounds. But to make things worse, you're also a professor in the future, and you teach" I pointed to me and Logan "us"

"I can't help you guys, i don't know what to do" Charles shrugged.

-

Why do you stick by him?

You love him, don't you?

-

🧠

By far, my weirdest interaction in the TVA was when i met a variant of Xavier, and he seemed to know me quite well. He could name my favourite colour, food, even my favourite candle and my favourite animal.

Upon closer inspection, i saw a ring on his finger. Sparkling gold with a small blue gem. I didn't bother to ask what the blue meant, I only knew that my ring on my finger was the same.

It became clear then that this was a Xavier variant I may have married in a way distant universe.

I called for the immediate expulsion of the variant instantly after.

-

Don't let him go

Do it I dare you

You love him

You love him

You love him

He's not yours

You can't do this

Don't do this

Don't do it

It's not right

-

"Charles?" I said.

It was nighttime. We were forced to take shelter in the mansion as we knew we had nowhere else to go.

"Yes?" The bearded man turned to me

"Can you do me a favor?"

-