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vivacia-18 · 1 year ago

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This was getting to long for the tags, hope you don't mind me commenting directly!

asdlkjaada The freaking Dondon quest - I totally did that one by accident, and all of the reveal was totally overshadowed by the fact that I felt equal parts bad and annoyed finding out that they were unkillable NPCs when I just spent the last 10 minutes trying to murder the herd for meat X'D

But yeah, overall while I don't look for much depth in a video game (if I want it I'm cool to come with a shovel myself later) totk really lacked cohesion overall. Certain parts of the story and characters were enjoyable, but it definitely didn't pull itself together very well.

One thing I wanted to see way back in botw, and that I think could have tied in well to this game - and maybe even the Dondon quest! - was having the monsters actually be part of Hyrule. As in like, people that are meant to be there. Its stated multiple times that the blood moon summons lost spirits who are cursed to wander the land and fight and die in eternal cycles of damnation. We also know that dead/undead and transformation into other species is a thing in Zelda (the Stals in OOT anyone?) completely unrelated to Ganondorfs whole deal. What I wanted SO BAD was for post game after getting rid of the blood moon, the curse would be lifted and the monsters would be normal again. So you could barter for stuff (bokoblins, etc), or battle for prestige but not to the death (Lynels), or like sneakily harvest things (Hynox, Talus) but you wouldn't be killing them anymore - because they're among the people you were trying to save, they're a part of Hyrule too. And now the warrior dead can rest in peace once more.

Until we accidentally bring the blood back in totk and they're summoned/cursed again, whoops! But anyways, I felt like that would have been both good gameplay and good depth, and now I kinda like the tie in of the Dondons only being known as they were cursed under the blood moon, and it's only recently that they've shown to be naturally pretty docile, or something along those lines.

I also think that could have tied in well with explaining Gan too, and how the fuck he was still around when the Calamity was supposed to be banished and they made an explicit point of saying he had chosen to forgo the chance of reincarnation, so shouldn't he have been gone forever? Finally broken free of the cycle and allowed to rest?

I haven't thought this part through quite as much, so bear with me. The blood moon reads as a curse to me, but not so much one cast BY Ganondorf, so much as it is the manifestation of the curse UPON him. It truly seems like in this game duo especially Gan is destined to fall to madness, and one headcanon I've gotten rather fond of that ties into the Light and Darkness thing is that its because the power of Light is incompatible with him long term, just as the power of Dark is incompatible to Zelda (if we really want to reach we can link it back to the schism between Hylia and Demise in SS, but that's optional).

Any long term exposure to their opposite will have detrimental mental effects - basically a magical autoimmune reaction. I think he can interact with certain aspects - note that both he and Zelda seem compatible with Sheikah tech/magic, which is fun conceptually as they are a people/Sages of Shadow - but not pure Light. I think Zelda would go equally mad should she ever try to use Dark magics long term.

Fortunately for her and unfortunately for Gan, Light being the magic of the main ruling family makes it much more prominent and easy to find for someone who is naturally driven to seek Power. And when he does his magic becomes... sick, for a lack of better terms. This culminated into terminal illness upon bonding with the soul stone - cruel in the way of tuberculosis, granting a flush of power and vibrancy before death, this created the blood moon - a warped representation of death and rebirth, light and dark, twisted into something foul. And contaminated magic is what we see manifested as the blight/gloom in later years. The Calamity was his spirit, broken free of Rauru's seal, yearning to be reunited with its body. And in totk we see his flesh revived, though his spirit was thought slain and the curse of the blood moon broken. It wasn't though, just briefly contained once more, because the source of the blight - the soul stone - was still bonded to him, and he couldn't rest until it was removed.

...Wow, this got far longer than I was intending, guess I really brought that shovel afterall X'D

tldr; I agree with OP that totk had the potential to be much deeper and more narratively satisfying than it was, even within the realm of what one would generally expect from a mainstream video game (which is not too much). And a big part of that for me would be a tweak to the monster mechanics post-game, and a little more actual backstory to Ganondorfs backstory to they actually make narrative sense.

The Dondon Post (or: the bizarre TotK's side content counterpoints to its main quest's immuable binary morality)

Speaking of strange TotK Choices, I think I have one singe post left in me about this game; and it's about the Dondon quest, "The Beast and the Princess".

(and about other stuff too, you'll see, we'll get to them)

More specifically: about how... strange of a thematic point it feebly attemps to make in the larger context of the storyline, and how it seems to be yet another mark of a world that, perhaps, once tried to be more morally complex that it ended up becoming.

Buckle up: it's a long one, and it gets pretty conceptual.

(good gem boys notwhistanding)

The Princess and the Beast

So, a couple of things about the setup. We are investigating potential Princess sightings; but at this point, either because we have already completed a bunch and know the general gib, because we have met a couple of wild Fake Zelda shenanigans, or through the simple fact that we are completing a side quest, we know there's a good chance it won't lead to an actual Zelda information. So when we ask Penn about what is going on and he replies with the ominous "we saw the Princess riding some kind of beast --a frightening one with huge, brutal tusks-- that the princess seemed to control", we get Ideas. Then the sidequest is registered: "The Princess and the Beast".

So. You know me. And if you don't know me, here's what you should know: my brain immediately flared up with the thought there was no way in hell this wasn't some kind of wink towards Ganondorf's renowned boarish beast form, especially given tusks were given so much focus.

My first assumption was: that's a miniboss right? I will get to fight some small boar-like thing that Fake Zelda rides sometimes. Cool! I didn't hold too hard onto my hope that the relationship of Zelda and/or Ganondorf to the natural world, or to each other would be expanded upon, since I had already been burned before, but my interest was piqued.

You have to understand how starved I was for any hint of complexity or mystery or ambiguity at this point. I was extremely eager for the game to throw anything at me that would surprise me, enlighten something pre-established, make the exploration lead to a meaningful discovery or deepening of characters, world or themes (and not just slightly cooler loot, or a bossfight, or a puzzle devoid of emotional context --cohesion and depth is what motivates my play sessions, especially in an open world game that I want to believe is worth losing oneself into). This was about the most intriguing task on my to do list at the moment, and so I plunged in immediately.

After really REALLY misunderstanding what I was supposed to do (I stalked every corner of every forest surrounding the tropical area at night or during blood moons in hope to see something --which was very much the wrong call), I arrived to the other stable, then was guided to the other side of the river where Cima awaits and explains that these creatures are actually a new species discovered by Zelda; that they are gentle and kind and not at all scary ("Dondons aren't beastly, they're adorable!"), and even somehow digest luminous stones into gemstones. They like the company of people and liked Zelda in particular.

I was... I felt two different ways about this conclusion, and I think it's worth to explore both: disappointment and some sort of... "huh!" Hard to describe this emotion otherwise.

I'll get the disappointment out of the way first, because it's the least interesting of the two. While I think the little emotional arc I was taken on was not devoid of interest --I was indeed taken on by the rumor and intrigued by its implications-- I wanted, well. A little bit more. And if the creatures were to be Zelda's pet project, I would have loved for them to be actually terrifying and feisty, and for her to develop an interest for these creatures in particular regardless. It could have been very interesting characterization that veered out of the perfect princess loving the perfect world floundering around her, always bringing her clear, practical benefits from the interaction.

(I have made another post that speaks of my discomfort that Zelda does everything everywhere and everyone loves her for it --I get what they were trying to go for, but it either lacks conflict for me to buy into that dynamic at the scale of several regions, or they went on too hard for my taste, as she is, at once and in the span of a couple of years at most: a schoolteacher, a gardener, an animal researcher, a scholar, a traveler, a military expert, a knower of landscape, a painter, a horse rider, an infrastructure planner, a [...] princess --at some point it begins to sound made up, "Little Father of the people"-esque to rattle the hornet's nest a little bit, especially if it's not shown as either a clearly godly characteristic or, even more necessary imo, a negative trait; another expression of her killing herself at work to compensate for a perceived flaw she's trying to earn forgiveness for, like she did in BotW. But that's another topic, and the clumsiness of her character arc has been well threaded by basically everybody disappointed in the story already.)

But, if I decide to be a little graceful, I'd like to explore my "huh!" emotion, and take it apart a little bit.

I think there's something interesting to have such strong parallels to setting up a story about the relationship between Zelda and Ganondorf ("The Princess and the Beast", like come on guys that's the conflict of over half the series), or at least Zelda and the concept of Evil since Ganondorf pretty much represents it in this game, and then have it go: actually, there was a horrible monster that everyone was afraid of, but Zelda was wise and patient enough to approach it and realize its potential beyond the tusks, what beauty can be brought upon the world if one makes the effort to look for what exists underneath. It says something a bit deeper about the world and about Zelda in particular. It intrigues, at the very least.

Is it a reach? Probably! Is my first interpretation that the quest is actually about "eww you thought Zelda would be interested in *disgusting vile monsters* and not sweet and gentle and human-loving animals that literally shit jewlery when cared for? jokes on you, she never would feel any ounce of sympathy for anything that isn't Good and Deserving" uhhh definitively truer? Probably! But I also don't want to dismiss that the quest made me think about it. If I had completed it earlier, I might have even felt like it was (very clumsy, not gonna lie) setup about the main conflict.

But that's also a good segway into my next section: the arbitrary limitations between the animal and the creature, the monstrous and the human.

And the fact that TotK points directly at it.

A Monstrous Collection

(these two guys are just. doing So Much and being So Valid despite being massive weirdos the game wants us to be slightly repelled by. I, for one, respect the Monster kinning grind and their general Twilight Princess energy.)

So. These two guys. There is so much to say about these two guys. I don't think I have seen the Trans Perspective on Kolton on tumblr, and I would love to get it because. I feel like it's a worthwhile discussion (just, how gender and identity is handled in TotK overall, I feel like it's a very complicated conversation and I have not seen super deep dives and I'd be very interested in hearing more).

Beyond the throughline of voluntary consumption of magical objects to turn into less human creatures being a weirdly prevalent plot point in TotK (Zelda, Kolton and Ganondorf casually transing their entire species for funsies --Ganondorf being particularly relentless with Fake Zelda, mummy/phantom shenanigans, Demon King and then literal dragon), I want to focus on Kilton a little bit.

Kilton is genuinely the only NPC in the game willing to acknowledge the inherent personhood that monsters have (the game does showcase them picking up fruits, mourning their boss if you kill them, being cutesy and happy to identify you as one of their own if you wear the appropriate mask --and that's not even getting into creatures like the Lynels, who seem to really edge on the limit of being a conscious creature with a system of honor and property and many other things). He does encourage us to think of monsters as more than a species whose only worth lie in how fun it is to eradicate them; even more, gameplay-wise, he does give us a reason to interact with them in other ways than just our sword with his museum. He does encourage us to see that beauty for ourselves and then select what we think is coolest/most intimidating/cutest/eight billion ganondorfs in every pose imaginable

The fact that Ganondorf is considered a monster was a great win for this feature in particular, and is very funny, but it's also... A lot, if we dig at it a little more than warranted. Beyond all of the Implications and all of the things of representation and political conflict and values already discussed ad nauseum: when did he stop being considered a human? What does that mean about the flimsiness of what is a monster and what is a creature and what is an animal and what is a person and what is even a hylian, as sheikahs got absorbed into the definition in this game? Especially with the stones taken into account, how profound changes in nature are a huge part of the plot (even when reversed and ultimately pretty meaningless): how easy it is, to make that slip? Who decides when that slip has been made? What is acceptable to hurt without remorse? What is beautiful and worth preserving? What is both at once? What is neither?

And again, in a classic Zelda conundrum (appreciative(?)): who the fuck gets to decide that, when, and why?

The Bargainers and the Horned God

(major shoutout to these big guys for being the sole and only providers of actual depth to the Depths, and for looking cool as heck)

So. Let's move the conversation to the Depths.

Conceptually: what an interesting idea!! And so well executed (initially)!! A mirror world to the surface, dark and hushed and full of unknown creatures; haunted by gloom and sickness and the unknown. Not a first in the series, far from it: from ALTTP to ALBW, and even taking the Twilight world of TP into account, this idea of a Dark World acting as a deforming mirror to Hyrule and revealing many interesting aspects as we get to explore both is always a very interesting take on corruption and envy and fear/weakness and/or some sense of darkness looming under the perfect exterior. I'd argue even the Lens of Truth of both OoT and MM's serve a similar function, both gameplay-wise, but also in terms of theme: not everything is as it seems. In the world of Light, darkness must hide itself; but darkness also possess its own beauty, its own hardships, and will stare back at you without blinking if you go seek for it. It's, in my opinion, one of the series' most compelling conversation about the cyclical nature of fate, the coldness of godhood, and how small one feels in the face of a universe that is more complicated than it initially appears --which is why Courage must be invoked to push forward regardless.

The Depth's otherworldly ambiance is truy wonderful, whether in the plays of light and shadows, the creatures native to the environment we meet there (wish we met more!), the soundtrack, the strange aquatic/primordial plants, the fact that the dragons visit this place and connect them to the outside --invoking ideas of balance and interconnectivity, that the tree branches look like veins. The coliseums, the mines, the zonai facilities and the prisons do seem to poke at many things about what the relationship to the past was to this place; was it ever truly a place? Did it look like this back then? Why was it buried? Why did it come back? But in spite of it all, I think the Depths struggle overall to question or reveal anything about the surface that we couldn't already assume going in (that the only thing congealing there is Ganondorf's gloom, his lonely domain of Wrongness, only shared by Kohga and the yiga --the only naysayers of Goodness and Light, contemptful and blinded by self-importance and rage). The zonite is mined by gloomy monsters --why, what for?-- so any notion of greed and over-expansion that could have been associated to the zonai is now reabsorbed into Ganondorf's general evilness, since it needs to be reminded he is everything and anything bad with the world: darkness and conquest and greed and capitalism and pollution and bad weather and sickness and darkness and violence and war and death and betrayal and fakeness and lies and patriarchy and exploitation. No matter that he never does a single thing with zonite in the game; rather set up elements of conflict that never go anywhere than, for a second, let the foundations of absolute goodness and absolute evil risk becoming shaky --and you coming to this unwelcoming dark place that hates you, killing the miners and taking their resources for yourself is, on the other holy, royal fur-covered hand, utterly legitimate. The resources were once Rauru's after all, were they not?

And this is what I would say, except... except for the dead. The fallen warriors, the poes, and, most important of all: the Bargainer statues.

The Bargainers are, in-universe, godly creatures guiding the fallen to a place of final respite, regardless of moral alignment. The poes are all, fundamentally, cleansed of judgement: they are lost souls whose past reality does not matter anymore, and all deserve that peace regardless. In spite of the heavy paradise/hell parallels drawn in that game, with Rauru/Zelda/Sonia as the guardians of Light where Ganondorf gets to become a Devil-like figure, it is confirmed here that no such thing exists when you actually die in this universe.

It almost feels as if the fabric of Hyrule itself, in a brief moment that refuses to elaborate on its own point, goes: "yeah, whatever is happening here between Light and Darkness, it doesn't actually matter. This conflict is futile and doesn't understand the real nature of being alive, dead, a god, a person, a monster, an animal. The truth lies elsewhere --but you will never be told what it is."

It's: wild.

One of the game's most striking traits of narrative brilliance in my opinion --to the point where I'm wondering whether it's there on purpose or was effectively an oversight since every other aspect of reality breaks its own back trying to reassure us that everything is at its correct place, receiving the appropriate treatment by the universe in a way that is never to be questioned.

Another case of that ambiguity being allowed to exist without being immediately crushed and repressed is the case of the Horned God (interesting parallel to Ganon's actual horns that he develops in this game in case the hellish parallels weren't clear enough already): a demon Hylia sealed into stone and pushed far from humans in a clear case of questionable behavior since, while the Horned God isn't exactly nice, does propose a different philosophy you are not punished for exploring; and yet, a proposal that has seen itself persecuted in a very real sense by the goddess of absolute goodness, patron of hylians, Zelda, and many more. Pushed away from view.

Interesting.

And Yet, Light Must Prevail

Okay, so, after all of this, we're left to ask... What the fuck is up with morality in Tears of the Kingdom?!

What do we trust? These half-breaths in the occasional sidequests that Light and Darkness is just the wrong frame of reference, that nature cannot be this simple, is ever-shifting and can be recalled or reaffirmed by arbitrary forces, and might even not matter at all in the universe's fabric, despite having so much of its lore soaking in the dychotomy? Or... everything else about the game, this insistence that Good must not only be assumed as whatever tradition the kingdom has passed down for thousands upon thousands of years, but remain utterly unquestioned the entire time? That Bad is without cause, graceless and unworthy of investment?

Are the Bargainer's statues the only thing worth listening to, that morality is a fable the living tells themselves --or should we be moved when Darkness destroys Light, when Light suffers to preserve itself and the world --but not when the Other is rightfully slain?

Was Kilton correct to see beauty in the monstrous? Was Kolton onto something when he let go of his previous form because there is no clear distinction between what should receive an arrow to the face and what shouldn't? Or should we rather focus on Zelda losing her human form as a beautiful and tragic sacrifice --but something that never actually altered her nature as a hylian, the descendant of a lineage of Good Kings meant to rule forever?

Is the Dondon good because it always was, or was it worth Zelda's love in spite of the fear it initially provoked?

Either way, at the end of the game, evil is slain. Ganondorf is, not killed, but --like his angry BotW boar counterpart-- destroyed, as monsters tend to be. He explodes over the lands of Hyrule, freed from Darkness; freed from everything wrong, since the foreign menace that embodied it all was wiped out in one fateful sweep of a holy blade cradled in sacrificial love. Nothing wrong remains. The Sages reaffirm their vows to protect the kingdom forward, and a very human --hylian-- Zelda smiles: Hyrule now forever and ever basked in eternal Light.

#loz #meta #totk #man I really got into that #forgot how much thought and longing I've actually put into this #thats not even getting into how I would have liked the zonai thing to be handled #its so left field for us y'know?#considering all zelda could talk about before was the sheikah and now apparently she's always been into the zonai?#anyways I would have loved a couple moments where she paused and looked a bit confused talking about the zonai #and then later during her jaunt to the past it was revealed that she basically made them a Thing in the present #by dicking around with history or whatever #leaving it at that would be fine to tie the games togetehr #but bringing in the shovel again - to my own sandbox X'D #we could have her mourning that she basically erased an entire cultures history in order to pull off her plan #becuase that is exactly what she did to the sheikah and I think she's mourn it both on a personal level and as a scholar #but I also think she's be ruthless enought o do it #also I like to think that her bias against gan in the past is due to being stuck with the Calamity for a century #you don't just breeze past that kind of trauma #and that was defintiely Gan at his maddest #anyways wow I really need to get to bed

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hischierhoney · 7 months ago

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Just Friends

Jack Hughes x Best Friend!Reader

summary: You’ve been best friends with Jack for ages. He’s also been in love with you for ages, but he’s got that completely under control. Really, he does. Right? 5.2k words

warnings: alcohol/intoxication, non graphic mentions of surgery/blood/stitches, hospital stay, reference to Jack’s shoulder surgery :(

Jack finds you in his apartment kitchen, a black tie in his hand. He’s already dressed in his suit pants and shirt, and for once, he feels like hair looks almost presentable. You take the tie from him without a word, and you loop it around his neck, underneath the collar of his shirt. Meanwhile, he grabs your necklace off the counter and fiddles with the clasp.

You hum to yourself as you start to tie the tie. “Ready for the game today?”

He shrugs. “I’m always ready.”

Luke is there, too, shoveling cereal into his mouth and watching the two of you warily. As you loop the tie around your fingers, Jack slips the necklace around your neck, your skin soft under his fingers. He latches it, blindly, with expert precision, muscle memory. He’s done it a million times now.

You tug the tie into place and then smooth it out on his chest. He hasn’t put his jacket on yet, but you’ll fix the lapels of it, too. You take a half a step back and give him a once over. He stands, waiting for your approval with his breath held in his chest. It shouldn’t mean this much, you making sure he looks good, but it does. You reach up and tuck a lock of hair back into place atop his head, and he smiles happily.

“All good,” you say, dusting your hands together as if you’ve just finished a hard day’s work.

Jack squints at your face, spotting something, and he brings a finger up to brush against your cheekbone. “Eyelash,” he explains, and you hum, closing your eyes as he brushes it away. “Got it.”

“Thanks,” you murmur. “Come on, don’t wanna be late. And no cereal in the car, Luke.”

Jack rushes off to grab his jacket. When he comes back, Luke is dumping the last of his cereal into the sink, and Jack grimaces. You’re in the hallway, stepping into a pair of shoes. Luke turns to him with a smirk, and Jack shakes his head before his brother can even open his mouth.

“Don’t,” he whispers.

Luke rolls his eyes. “I just think you guys are-“

“You thinking is dangerous,” Jack says. “Save all that energy for the game.”

He walks away, down the hallway to find you. You reach up to fix his jacket for him, and then you reach for the car keys and hand them off to him. He grins and nudges his elbow against your side.

“You’re such a passenger princess,” he teases.

You shrug. “I’m very good at it!”

He’s not complaining, really. There’s nobody he’d rather see in his passenger seat than you. Your jersey hangs proudly from your shoulders, his name and number on the back, and it makes his chest feel warm. You’re his good luck charm. He just hasn’t told you that yet.

…..

Jack’s spent so much time convincing his brothers and his teammates and his parents that he’s not in love with you, that he can’t pinpoint when it actually happened. He’s not sure there was some big moment, some realization, some day where he looked at you and everything changed. You’ve just been so present in his life that maybe it was a sort of gradual thing. Maybe it’s always been there, and he’s been in denial since he was eleven and Quinn was teasing him on the playground near their house.

Now you’re in New York, closer than you have been in years, both distance wise and friendship wise. You have season tickets, because he’s playing in the NHL and he wants you at every game possible. You spend half your nights at his place when he’s home, and he ignores the funny looks Luke gives him about it. Honestly, he’s a bit tired of denying it all. He thinks maybe if someone just asked point blank he’d let it all spill out.

He reads the text from you and smiles- you’re on your way to the Rock, one of your friends in tow. He’d gotten you two seats for the season, so you wouldn’t have to sit alone. He sort of dreads the day you decide to bring a date, but then he wonders what guy would be stupid enough to go along with that. Jack’s cocky, he’ll admit it. He knows he’s good at hockey. He laughs at the thought of you dragging a date along to see him play.

Someone announces they’re ordering food before the game, from the deli down the street. Jack listens as his teammates put in their orders. Luke goes with his usual. Timo changes things up. When the assistant gets to him, he grins. He orders his go to, and then another, and asks for a can of Coke, too, for good measure. Luke gives a knowing roll of his eyes.

When the guy brings the food in, Jack takes his bag, fishes his sandwich out of it, and hands the other sandwich and the can of Coke back. “Can you get this to seat B322?” He asks, grinning widely. He knows your seat number by heart.

Luke sighs heavily next to him. The guy agrees, of course. Nico, who’s standing nearby, cocks his head in confusion.

“She’s coming straight from work,” Jack defends. The ribbing he gets from the guys will be worth it when he sees you after the game. “She’s gonna be hungry.”

“It’s a hockey arena,” Luke says drily. “There’s so much food here.”

“But she loves Krauszer’s,” Jack says, and Nico rolls his eyes. “What kind of friend would I be if I didn’t order her some?”

“Friend,” Nico says, drawing out the word. “Sure.”

Jack ignores him. He ignores Luke’s smirk, too. He eats his sandwich and finishes getting ready, and then he heads out onto the ice, knowing you’re there somewhere, probably sipping on a can of Coke.

…..

The issue, Jack finds, is that it’s getting harder to ignore the fact that he’s in love with you.

It was easier, before, when you were younger and he was more dumb and less aware of… everything. He could convince himself it was just puppy love, just absence making the heart grow fonder, when post high school saw the two of you split apart. But now you’re here, close, and yet not close enough. Jack wants more, and he can’t really ignore that feeling these days.

He’s out at a bar, team bonding, as Nico put it. Except that half the team is drunk, including Nico, and the only bonding Jack’s doing is the brotherly kind, trying to keep Luke from sneaking drinks, or worse, getting caught sneaking drinks. Sometimes he hates being an older brother. He’d wanted to come out, maybe talk to a girl, maybe take said girl home, or get her to take him back to her place so he wouldn’t have to worry about Luke overhearing. But it’s not really working, not with Nico hanging off his shoulder like a leech and Luke sneaking another shot, and god, Jack’s going to kill him. If you were here, you’d be keeping an eye on Luke, too. He wishes you were here.

He has a shot to take the edge of the annoyance off. Then he has another, and another, and then there’s a girl across the bar, smiling at him, and- she sort of looks like you, is the thing, but not quite. The sort of uncanny valley of it all is freaking him out. For a moment he wonders if hooking up with her would make it better- would get it out of his system, would scratch the itch. The sane, more sober part of him thinks it might just make it all worse. To have some girl under him and hear a voice that isn’t yours. Jack used to do this all the time. The thought of it makes him feel sick now. That’s new.

He downs another shot and passes his leech of a captain off on his problem of a brother, hoping the two of them will keep each other in line. Then he pulls his phone from his pocket and gets an Uber.

It’s only when he’s standing at your apartment door that he realizes he probably should’ve called first. You might already be asleep. You might be out. Maybe you have a guy over. His stomach does a somersault at the thought. He raises his hand to knock anyways- he’s come all this way.

You open the door with a smile on your face. “Nico called to ask if I knew where you went. Thought you might be headed here.”

Jack lets his shoulders drop. “They were annoying me.”

That’s not the real reason he left, but he can’t exactly tell you he saw the uncanny valley version of you and decided to leave. That would be… a lot. You seem to take his answer as the truth, because Luke is annoying on a night out, and Nico can be, too. Jack still probably should’ve told them he was leaving. He’ll get an earful about it. Oh well. The way you step aside to let him into your apartment makes it worth it.

He heads for the couch, and you laugh when he flops onto it, facedown. He likes your laugh. It sounds so much like you. He remembers the years when you were in college and he was far, far away from you, when he’d crack jokes on the phone calls just to hear you giggle. He presses his face into a pillow and hopes you don’t see the blush on his cheeks, or that you’ll attribute it to his drunkenness.

“Want food?” You call out, from the kitchen, he thinks. He groans loudly in response. “I have mozz sticks.”

He turns his head to the side and says, “fuck, I love you.”

He can say it here, in the comfort and privacy of your living room, in the relative safeness of the fact that he’s been drinking. You won’t think anything of it. You won’t realize how much he really means it.

The sound of your laugh is music to his ears. “Love you too, Rowdy.”

You don’t mean it the way he wants you to. That’s okay. He came to terms with that a while ago, listening to you say it over staticky phone calls. But you’ll make him mozzarella sticks, and you’re not upset that he’s here, so he’ll take it. He’ll take anything, really.

You come into the living room a few minutes later, plate full of food in hand, and make him roll over. He sits up slightly, leaning against the arm of the couch, and you lift his legs to sit under them. He doesn’t complain when you turn on some stupid reality tv show he hates- there are mozzarella sticks for him to eat, and the warmth of you under him, the weight of your arm where it’s draped across his calves. He can put up with the host’s annoying voice for this.

He falls asleep on your couch, half a mozz stick in his hand. When he wakes up, he’s tucked in with the quilt you’ve had for years now, a pillow under his head, and water waiting for him on the coffee table. You’re probably at work by now. He’ll send you a text to say thank you, later, unless he decides to just wait here until you come home. That doesn’t sound like such a bad idea, really.

…..

It’s a Saturday, and Luke is out for lunch with some of the other younger players, so Jack’s fending for himself. Trevor, knowing this due to what he would call their cosmic connection, has seen it as an opportunity to talk Jack’s ear off over FaceTime. Jack has his phone propped on the kitchen counter, half listening as he cooks.

He loves Trevor- really, he does, but the guy could talk for hours upon hours and never run out of things to say. Jack lets him, because he knows Trevor likes talking, so he’s not going to be mean. He just chimes in with noises of agreement or disagreement at the right times. Then Trevor says your name, and he zones back in.

“I fucking knew you weren’t listening!” Trevor cackles, wide grin taking up most of the phone screen. “But the second I mention-“

“Shut up,” Jack groans, rolling his eyes. “I’m listening. I’m just also making lunch.”

“Right, right,” Trevor snarks. “Just for you?”

Jack knows what he’s insinuating. Honestly, as much as he hates to admit it, it’s not a bad idea. You’re not working today, and he could probably convince you to come hang out with him in exchange for free food. He’s bored enough to listen to Trevor go on and on. You could save him from it.

“Yeah,” he says, and immediately contradicts himself by picking up his phone and sending you a text.

He tries to listen this time, he really does. He cares about Trevor, he wants to hear what he has to say. He finishes cooking lunch, and then Trevor has to go, shouting something to someone in the background, and he hangs up. Jack sighs at the empty, quiet room. He thinks about texting Luke to see when he’ll be back, but that feels pathetic. Maybe Nico’s not busy.

His heart leaps when his phone buzzes with a text from you.

Lunch sounds good. I’ll be over soon.

He can’t wipe the grin off his face the whole rest of the day. You come over, and eat the rest of the food happily, sitting at the kitchen counter. He watches fondly and tells you all the drama Trevor just told him- screw you, Zegras, he was listening. You smile brightly up at him.

“Got plans for the rest of the day?” He asks, hoping desperately that you don’t.

You shrug. “Nope. I’m all yours.”

God, he wishes.

…..

Jack thinks that maybe, just maybe, he can’t really be blamed when it all comes crashing down on a Wednesday afternoon in April. It’s been coming for a while. He’s had time to prepare. It shouldn’t take him out the way it does, because he’s seen it coming from miles away. It shouldn’t, but it does anyways.

They pull him from the games and finally, finally, ship him off to Colorado to have surgery. He gets an email with the flight information, another with a hotel to stay in the night before, and instructions on how to book his flight back to Jersey after he’s released. They don’t want to book it now, for fear of something going wrong in surgery. Hockey teams are superstitious like that, even their travel management.

There’s another set of emails, too- ones from the surgeon, about his prep and things he needs to do and bring and what to expect from the healing process. He hasn’t bothered to open it. That’ll make it real. He just packs up some of his clothes, shuts himself in his room, and waits. He ignores Luke, then he ignores Nico, who he’s sure Luke has brought over. He ignores Quinn’s phone calls, too, and everyone else’s.

When you show up, though, knocking on his bedroom door and calling out his name, he can’t ignore it. He makes a noise that isn’t a go away, and you take it as an invitation in, which he supposes it was. You make a soft noise of disapproval when you see him, curled up in his bed, hood pulled up around his head to block out the world.

“Hey, J,” you murmur, padding your way across his bedroom. “What’s going on?”

He sniffles and presses his face into the mattress. “The surgery.”

You sigh and sit down on the edge of his bed. “Yeah.”

Jack’s not afraid of having surgery, really. He’s never been very squeamish, never one to shy away from blood draws or stitches or IVs. You know this. Everyone knows it, which is probably why they’re all so worried about his reaction to this. He doesn’t want to admit it really, but it’s you, so he finds the words slipping past his lips.

“Mom can’t come,” he says, voice raw and scraping. “Or dad. Too short notice. And- and Luke and Nico and Quinn are gonna be busy, obviously, and I just… all this talk about surgery all this time and I didn’t think I’d have to do it alone, you know? It couldn’t wait till after the season so I could-“

He breaks off into an embarrassing, breath stealing sob. You make a soothing little noise and lean down next to him, scooping him up into your arms. It sort of helps and sort of makes it worse. The tears flow freely now. It’s just you. All his walls are down.

“You won’t be by yourself, Jack,” you murmur, and he waits for the reassuring words, that you’ll all be with him in spirit, that he’ll be home in no time, that he’s never alone. Instead, you say, “I took some time off. I’m gonna fly out with you, be there for the surgery.”

He pries one eye open, waiting for the punch line. There isn’t one. Just you, watching him carefully, holding him close. He knows how hard it is for you to get time off right now. It’s your busy season at work. And yet, here you are. Tears start running again. The whole world goes blurry. You just brush them away, one by one.

“Oh, honey,” you soothe, voice low and soft. “You didn’t think I’d let you do it alone, did you?”

God, he loves you. And he thinks this might be the final straw, the last puzzle piece. There’s no denying it now. You brush stray hairs from his face and press warm kisses to his forehead while he admits that he’s scared, not of the surgery but of what comes after, of the healing and the rehab and everything involved in it. You draw soothing patterns on his skin and just listen, because you know him well enough to know he needs to get it off his chest. He thinks about telling you how much he loves you as he starts to drift off, but he thinks better of it. There’ll be a better time than this, tear stained and curled up in his bed like a little kid. For now, it’s enough to know you love him, in any way, shape, or form.

…..

Jack wakes up in a hospital bed in Vail, Colorado, utterly disoriented and freezing cold. The ceiling is this ugly grey color, just like the rest of the ceilings in the building have been. He’s spent a lot of time staring at them in the last 24 hours. He blinks, and the tiles blur and swirl, and he hears his name in your voice. He tries to hold on, but he’s so, so sleepy, so he closes his eyes.

He wakes up again with no idea how long he’s been out. He’s warmer now. There’s an extra blanket laid over him, and a hand holding his. Hm. It feels nice. He squeezes his fingers experimentally. He hears movement to his left. A plastic cup appears in his field of vision, and he suddenly realizes how thirsty he is. He turns, slightly, and finds you.

“You’re here,” he says, quietly.

Your face is a little out of focus, but he thinks you smile. “Yeah, of course I am. Told you I would be.”

He knows that. He knows you flew out here with him, eating snacks on the plane before he hit the 12 hours before surgery mark and he had to stop. You checked into the hotel with him, got all the supplies ready for after the surgery, got him here, promised you’d be waiting when he woke up. But now he’s here, post surgery, and you’re holding his hand, and his chest hurts in the best way.

“Hey, hey, don’t cry,” you murmur, lifting the cup to his lips. He takes a sip. “Does it hurt?”

He shakes his head gingerly. He’s a little achy, but nothing that would make him cry normally. He can’t help it, it’s probably the meds. He remembers crying when he got his wisdom teeth out, too. He tries to tell you as much, but it comes out garbled and teary and raw. You shush him, smoothing your hand over his forehead and pushing his hair out of his face. That feels nice. You’re warm.

“Okay. It’s okay,” you soothe. “Take a breath. It’s alright.”

He does his best. You help him take little sips of water, and eventually the tears dry up. He’s left sitting there, your hand running through his hair, and he suddenly feels so, so sleepy. He turns his head and blinks at you. You’re clear in his vision now, beautiful as ever.

“You’re pretty,” he mumbles.

He thinks it all the time, he may as well say it. Nothing’s holding him back now. You laugh, and your face gets blurry again. He sighs.

“You’re pretty,” you say back.

He rolls his eyes, but he smiles anyways. “Hmm.”

“Are you sleepy?” You ask, thumb brushing against his temple. He nods. “You can go to sleep, okay?”

“You’ll be here when I wake up?” He asks, feeling a little vulnerable, suddenly.

“Yeah, Jacky,” you murmur, and when he closes his eyes, he thinks he feels your lips against his temple. “I’m not going anywhere.”

The third time he wakes up, you’re sitting next to him, eating ice cream out of a little plastic cup with one of the tiny wooden spoons. The tv in the room is playing that same stupid reality show. The host’s voice would piss him off if he wasn’t so focused on how adorable you look. He inches the fingers of his good hand towards you, towards where your knee is pressed against his bed. When he makes contact, you jump nearly a foot in the air. He can’t help but giggle.

“Jesus,” you mutter, shaking your head at him.

“Nah, just Jack,” he teases.

You roll your eyes. “Someone’s feeling better.”

If he’s being honest, he still feels a little loopy. Your face is in focus, but everything feels a little softer around the edges. His fingers scramble against your knee, and you laugh, leaning close. You set down the ice cream and reach to tangle your hand up in his. That’s nice. He doesn’t get to do that a lot- hold your hand. Maybe he should have surgery more often. You smooth his hair out of his face again. It’s such a caring motion that it sends his heart stuttering.

“I’m glad you’re here,” he says, quietly.

You shrug. “What kind of best friend would I be if I wasn’t?”

And. That’s nice, but it’s not really what he wants to hear. He wants you to be here because you love him. He probably wouldn’t spend hours in a hospital waiting room for Nico, probably wouldn’t sit and wait for him to wake up. He’d bring him food after, when he got home, would help him however he needed. But to fly halfway across the country just to be here? He’d do that for you in a heartbeat, but he’s not sure there are many others he’d do the same for.

You seem to notice the way he’s staring, and you wave the wooden spoon at him. “You want some ice cream? The nurse said to call when you actually woke up. I’m sure she’ll give you one if you turn on the charm.”

He blinks slowly. “I love you, you know that?”

It’s past his lips before he can take it back. It should be terrifying. He should feel sick to his stomach. Maybe it’s the hospital drugs, or maybe it’s just that he’s been holding it in for so long, but it doesn’t feel scary. He sort of just feels relieved.

You smile brightly. “Yeah, I love you, too, Jack.”

He huffs. “No, you don’t get it-“

Before he can get another word out, the nurse comes in. He wonders if you pressed the button when he wasn’t paying attention, or if hospital staff just have comically bad timing. He lets out a groan. You give him an amused smile.

“Welcome back, Jack,” the nurse says. He reads her nametag- Nancy. “I’m just going to do a little checkup, alright?” She turns to you. “If you want, you can step out into the hall.”

By the time he’s squeezing your hand to keep you there, you’re holding onto him tightly, too. Huh. That’s interesting.

“She can stay,” Jack says.

You nod. So does Nancy, a knowing smile on her lips. Jack wonders if she sees this a lot. Guys with friends who sit by their bed, oblivious to the fact that said guy is hopelessly in love with them. Maybe it’s a common thing in hospitals. Maybe it’s not just Jack. That’s a nice thought.

He gets his blood pressure taken, and his pulse, and he gets asked to take a few deep breaths for what seems to be just the fun of it. She asks his pain level- a 3, at which point you break in and tell the nurse that his three is more like a five. She smiles at the two of you. When she goes to leave, Jack speaks up.

“Could I have some ice cream?” He asks, hoping the way his voice cracks on the words makes her sympathetic.

Ice cream does sound good. His throat feels raw, and his mouth is dry. And he’s starving.

Nurse Nancy smiles and looks at you. “What do you think? Has he been well behaved enough?”

Normally, Jack would take a little offense to it. But he turns to you, and you’re smiling bright, lighting up the whole room. His stomach does a somersault. He wonders if the way he feels about you is visible on the heart monitor, if his pulse picks up every time he looks at you.

“He’s the best,” you answer, and he melts. “Give him all the ice cream you’ve got.”

Ten minutes later, you sit there, holding a container of chocolate vanilla swirl. He’d been ready to eat it on his own until he remembered his arm, the surgery, the whole reason he’s here. He’d had to settle for letting you feed it to him. Maybe settle is the wrong word, really. It’s nice to be taken care of, even nicer when you’re the one who’s doing it for him.

He thinks maybe he’s still loopy, because in between bites, he pauses, looks at you, opens his mouth, and puts his foot directly in it. “I meant it, you know. I love you.”

You nod. “I know.”

He’s too far into this to stop now. “No, I-“

You interrupt, dropping the spoon in the cup to place your hand over his. “Jack, honey. Tell me later, when you’re not high off anesthesia, okay?”

Oh. He cocks his head, slightly. His mouth tastes like chocolate and vanilla. You smell like flowers. Like the lilacs in the backyard of his childhood home. There’s a light and warmth in your eyes that makes everything feel a little bit better.

“And if I tell you later,” he says, feeling braver than he ever has before, “are you gonna tell me something back?”

You laugh. It’s still music to his ears. You pick up the spoon again, scooping up a bit of ice cream. His gaze stays locked on you.

“Yeah,” you say with a nod. “That I mean it the same way you mean it.”

That’s enough for Jack, for now.

He tells you again the next day, waits a full 24 hours because a part of him is worried it was all some sort of drug induced dream. But you’re packing up the suitcases, that same stupid show on the TV, and he turns to you where he sits on the edge of the bed and says it.

“I love you. Like, really love you. As more than a friend.” His heart is in his throat.

You drop the hoodie you’d been holding into the bag, walk across the room to him, and come to stand between his legs. He’s holding his breath. You hook your finger under his chin and pull his face to yours. He thinks he recognizes the look on your face, from the kitchen when you helped him tie his tie, from the living room with a plate of mozzarella sticks in your hand, from every moment he was feeling all his feelings for you.

“Yeah,” you say, kissing his cheek. “I really love you too.”

When you kiss him on the lips, soft and sweet and everything he’s wanted for ages now, he thinks that maybe the whole mess has been worth it.

…..

He sits in a wooden chair on the back deck of the lake house. It’s mid summer, the week of the 4th of July. The heat is nearly unbearable, heavy and sticky and inescapable. Trevor and Luke are on the grass, throwing a football back and forth. Jack’s trying not to check the time obsessively.

Quinn, who’s sitting next to him, gives him a look when he picks up his phone again. “She’ll get here when she gets here.”

Jack rolls his eyes and sinks further into his seat. “You’re a dick.”

“Jesus, I know she’s your friend but…” Quinn is shaking his head. “You’re being obsessive.”

He hasn’t told any of them. Not about the hospital bed confession, or the kiss, or anything that came after it. The flight back to Jersey, his head on your shoulder. The way you took care of him before he flew to Michigan for the off season. The late night calls the two of you have shared since then. He’s itching to see you. It’s been far too long. He’s been scared to tell them because he’s scared you’ll get here and it won’t be real. He’s being ridiculous, he knows it, but he can’t help it. It’s you.

He hears it when your car pulls up in the driveway. He stands up, ignoring the look Quinn gives him. He’s not quick enough- you must’ve parked and ran inside immediately. You come racing out onto the back porch, eyes wide, smile even wider, and he could melt into a puddle right there in the hot summer sun. You’re brighter than all of it.

He pulls you into a kiss right there, in front of everyone, earning a series of surprised yelps and gasps and cheers. He doesn’t care about anything else. You’re here, and you’re kissing him back, and that’s more than enough.

“Fucking called it!” Trevor yells, and Jack laughs.

“We all did,” Quinn says. “Glad you two finally figured it out.”

You won’t be here forever. You have work, and a life in the city. But for now, for this little slice of time, he gets to have everything he’s always wanted. That’ll hold him over for the rest of the off season. Or, more likely, until he caves in and gets an early flight back to Jersey to spend more time with you. From the way you smile when you stare up at him, he thinks it probably won’t be long.

a/n: thanks for reading! have been wanting to write about Jack for a bit & he’s just so best friends to lovers coded. so here we go!

#jack hughes x reader #jack Hughes x you #Jack Hughes fic #jack Hughes fanfic #Jack Hughes fluff #Jack Hughes fanfiction #jack Hughes imagine #nhl fic #nhl fanfic #hockey fic #honey writes #jh86

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charliemwrites · 1 year ago

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Bark, bark, snort, grrr

(The ex idea comes from @st-el-la-luna, absolutely brilliant darling ❤️)

Content: Voyeurism, Mild Injury, Possessive/Protective Behavior

Johnny, for all his quirks and… weirdly human tendencies, is an incredibly good sport. Particularly about letting you put him in Santa hats and wreaths, ugly sweaters and snow socks. He poses for every picture so dutifully, looks so serious and annoyed up until you plant smooches on his head or cheek and that silly lupine grin comes out.

He’s been your perfect little heater ever since the heater started to go on the fritz. It keeps shutting off or turning itself lower than it’s meant to be, leaving you shivering before you realize something is amiss. It’s not so broken that you’re willing to interrupt your solitude to have someone come fix it. But you’re grateful for a big fluffy body laying on your feet or snuggling under the blankets with you.

As the winter sets in, you tromp out with him in the snow a lot. Often use his sturdy shoulders and better footing as a crutch to navigate without slipping. He always gets fussy when you do, dancing in his feet and snuffling at your coat, urging you up.

One morning you wake up after a fresh snow, expecting that you’ll have to clear the driveway and porch - only to find it freshly shoveled and salted. It would spook you, except you’re sure Johnny would have woken you up barking his head off if it was anything to worry about.

Your mother calls about holiday plans in mid-November. You hedge around any commitments, hand buried in Johnny’s fur, saying that you don’t want to leave your precious pup at home.

The combined efforts of both your parents, your sister, and a cousin you actually like makes you cave eventually though. They promise it’ll just be family, that you can even bring Johnny. You grimace at that - debate getting him some meds from the vet…. But he’s been doing better on walks in town.

The weird assurance that it’ll “just be family” should have been a red flag.

When you arrive at your parents’ place, several gift bags and Johnny (with a bow tie on his collar) in tow, you find your ex there. On the couch. Next to your least-favorite cousin and your sister.

“What’s he doing here?” you ask sharply.

“Well, you two were engaged—”

Johnny’s ears shoot straight up as you tense.

“Yeah, and then he cheated.”

“People make mistakes. If you would just hear him out.”

“I don’t care what he has to say. And I don’t care what you have to say either.”

You drop the bags in a heap and click your tongue for Johnny. He falls in with you instantly, leaning up against your side. You get all the way to your car before you hear your ex’s voice calling your name.

You try to hurry, but there’s ice and the last thing your dignity can take is slipping right now. Luckily, you have the perfect deterrent before you ex can even get within arm’s reach.

Johnny snarls, so deep and loud you feel it in your own chest.

“Jesus!” your ex cries, coming up short. “Where did you get that thing?!”

“Johnny picked me. More than I can say for you.”

“Don’t be like that, I’m picking you now.”

“Oh, did your girl best friend lose all her daddy’s money?”

His cheeks light up neon. Huh. Got it in one.

Then he dares another step and Johnny lunges. You just get a hold of his harness but it’s enough ward your ex off a bit more.

“He’s very loyal,” you add. “Also more than I can say for you.”

“Baby, just listen—”

“An upgrade all around, I think.”

You round your car, climb into the driver’s seat with Johnny standing guard, then let him clamber over you into the passenger’s seat. At the front door, most of your family is gathered and staring. You flip off your ex one last time before peeling out of there.

The tears come after you’ve gotten back home. Johnny licks your face until you stop crying, then leads you inside. The two of you curl up on the couch together, his face buried in your stomach. You fall asleep there and dream of a man’s voice whispering love and comfort in your ear.

—

A week later, your ex shows up.

You’re out in the yard with Johnny, watching him zoom through the snow and laughing as he speeds by. Your ex must hear you because he comes round the side of the house.

And Johnny. Goes. Ballistic.

Literally, he hits your ex like a missile, taking him into the snow and snarling like something from hell. He’s got his teeth in your ex’s designer coat, ripping it to shreds. It’s frightening; you’ve never felt safer.

“Johnny!” you call. A growl. You walk closer, kick a bit of snow at both of them. “Johnny, down! Leave it!”

And he does, finally does, though not without taking a good chunk of fabric with him. Your ex, wide-eyed and pale, panting, doesn’t bother to say a word. He scrambles away while Johnny barks after him, all canine and spit.

You hum as he returns to you, fabric in his mouth, tail wagging.

“What a good boy,” you coo, taking the partial sleeve and inspecting it. Louis Vuitton, it looks like. “Very good. My perfect boy.”

You drop his prize into the snow and snort as he wastes no time peeing on it. Well, that’s gonna stay there. Forever.

“C’mon bud, you deserve a treat.”

Johnny follows you happily inside, a new pep in his step.

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Masterlist

#thoughts™️#cod #my writing #fanfiction #dark fic #reader fic

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our-sin · 3 months ago

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Stiles is a wildlife biologist and one day stumbles upon a wolf pack during a hike through the national forest he works for. They weren’t gray wolves so at first he figures another species has finally made its was back to california but after an hour or so of studying them from a far he realizes they aren’t typical wolves and appear to follow many of the theorized versions of dire wolves.

Thinking he might have discovered a new species and a possible descendant of dire wolves he stays for the rest of the day and studies them further. He only leaves when the sun starts to set and keeps coming back to study them. He grows rather attached to the pack, especially when a particularly curious wolf comes up and introduces itself and eventually drags him by his sleeve over to meet the rest of the pack. He talks to them, tells them about how important they are and how lucky he is to be the one to have found them.

He keeps trying to publish his findings but no one else seems to be able to find them and whenever he brings a photographer out they’re always hiding. One day he brings his own camera, thinking the wolves are used to him and just scared of everyone else and he finds one of the pack dead. He doesn’t take a picture of course, feels it would be disrespectful to the creatures that so readily welcomed him. Instead he goes back to his jeep grabs a shovel and a knife before coming back to dig the poor thing a proper grave and putting down a marker with a big rock and doing his best to add an engraving. While placing the wolf in its grave he notices bullet wounds and cuts on the body and figures out someone had killed one of HIS wolves.

The next week he spends looking for a tracker that can help him find who hurt his pack -figures if they went after one they might have been going after the others too and are still possibly camped out somewhere. That leads him to Derek who agrees oddly quick considering Stiles can’t offer him much in the way of payment.

Day one Stiles leads Derek to the grave and where he found the wolf. The man does his tracker thing and starts leading them even deeper into the forest. It takes a couple of days before they find the hunter’s now deserted camp that has some bullets and gear left behind, even a gun. Derek seems even angrier than Stiles that they had only missed them by a day or so given the remains of a campfire. They stay there for the night before moving on first thing in the morning. Takes another few days before they find an active campsite with several hunters.

They try to lay low but at some point Derek loses his cool and gets them caught and subsequently captured (he had heard them talking about the pack mate they killed, not that Stiles knows that). The hunters tie them up and do their typical hunter thing which is how Stiles not only finds out about werewolves but that the dire wolf descendants he thought he discovered were really the pack fully shifted.

Anyway turns out the pack had been following their entire journey from a far and the night after Stiles and Derek are captured they attack the hunters camp. Both Stiles and Derek are seriously injured but Stiles being human is the more pressing issue. Stiles wakes up like days later in a super fancy house next to a wall of heat. The wolf that had introduced him to the pack initially which is, of course, Derek. The man had refused to leave his side since they left the camp. And once everyone is sure Stiles is alive and mostly well the pack introduce themselves as humans.

Then happily ever after and all that jazz.

#copy and pasted my own idea from discord #i'm bored and sleep deprived and wanted to share #just like i was when i originally wrote this #teen wolf #fanfic #stiles stilinski #sterek #derek hale #fanfic promt #i guess anyway

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lanabuckybarnes · 7 months ago

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Brats don’t get what they want.

18+ MINORS DNI

(I do not own any photos, credits to original owners)

I’ve been thinking about mob boss’ daughter Reader who is an absolute brat, she’s spoiled rotten and has the attitude to prove it— but, is there a reason why?

Pairing: Bodyguard Bucky x Reader (Princess)

Warnings: Brat Taming, Spanking, Hair pulling, Light Bondage, Degradation, Dacryphilia, Oral (M! Receiving), Face Fucking, Facial, Exhibitionism (?)

Word Count: 1.2k

Any bodyguard her father assigns to her crawls back to him begging to be put on any other job. She was hellish, brutal, arrogant and selfish, and they’d do anything to be far away from her shit storm of an attitude; hell, they’d even take shovelling shit over taking care of his ‘precious little angel’.

After going through most of her father's men, Bucky is assigned to Princess. She smiles wickedly at him. He’s not as big as the last guy and certainly looks easy to knock down a peg or two.

Her mind is quickly changed when, after going out to a party and not telling him, she ends up bent over his lap, dress bundled up at her hips, panties on display and her hands tied up all pretty with his tie. His middle finger runs over the gusset, from her sensitive little nub to her slick entrance.

“My daddy will flip when he finds out ‘bout this” She warns with teeth bared, but she pushes back against the wandering digit anyway, her aching body betraying the fire in her eyes and the words falling from her lips.

He only chuckles, left hand gripping her jaw making her look up at him “Your daddy isn’t gonna know Princess” He smirks before gripping at her hair and pushing her face back down to meet the mattress.

Whatever protest is about to slip from her mouth dies on her tongue when his huge hand spanks her ass hard, the flesh rippling, her body jerking forward in surprise.

She squeals, knees slipping on the sheets when he smacks the spot again, this time gripping at the flesh.

“You’re gonna count the rest of them for me; aren’t you princess?” He whispered, left arm wrapping around her midsection and massaging the flesh on her hip, teeth poking out under his lips as they curled into a smile at the frantic nods of her head.

Each smack across her ass is unforgiving, as if the resentment from each bodyguard she ever wronged powered the swing of his hand down along the flesh of her cheek.

“Ten” She wails, body rocking forward.

Her ass is raw, painful welts forming along the skin. She sniffles, shaky hands wiping away the tears falling from her eyes, and it almost makes him feel guilty.

Almost.

“God, you’re fucking soaked, you like being knocked down a peg Princess?” His hand taps on her clothed heat, sending shocks of pleasure up her spine as the tips of his fingers reach her hard little clit.

She doesn’t respond, too busy in her own headspace. He tuts, fingers carding through her hair and pulling her up until she’s leaning back on her haunches.

“New rule sweetheart; when I ask you a question, you respond, that clear?” He tugs on the hair in his hand, smirking at her painful whine.

“Yes!! I like being put in my place...please!” So much for that bratty princess act. In reality, she just wanted a man to treat her like a slut.

“Mmm good girl” Bucky growled, free hand unbuckling his belt and unzipping his fly.

“You’re gonna suck me real good, then I’ll think about getting you off, alright?” His left hand pushes her cheeks together, puckering her lips and shaking her face.

She nods, trying to murmur ‘yes’ despite the fingers digging into her soft face, but he gets the message. With a soft pat to her cheek, both of his hands moved away from her, hooking around his slacks and briefs and pushing them to the floor.

He pushes his shirt up, allowing his length to slap against his stomach; her audible gasp reverberates on the pale walls. He was thick; she couldn’t fit all that in her mouth.

Bucky would make her try.

He grips the base, holding it for her as she leans down, licking softly over his precum-smeared tip. Bucky shudders out a moan at the feeling. Her teasing mouth had his core tightening in restraint; he didn’t want to push her just yet, but the soft sucks on his head had his resolve wearing thin.

“You gonna keep teasing me, sweetheart?” Bucky groans, head lulling back as her cheeks hollow out. When her tied hands slinked down to his sack, rolling a thumb along his balls, he broke, his hips jerking up and sinking half his length into her slack mouth.

“Shit! That’s a good girl, hah your sweet fucking mouth - you’ve done this before haven’t you fucking slut…you ever had that fucking throat fucked?” he asked, metal fingers gripping her hair again and pulling her off his length when she didn’t reply.

“You forgot our rule already?” He snarls, emphasising his words with a spank on her raw ass cheek. She bounced up, a painful whimper falling from her slack mouth when he hit her again.

“Two spanks every time you forget to answer me, the next time you count them” he smiles when she replies with a bubbling ‘yes’ before he bundles her soft locks into a makeshift ponytail and gags her with his length.

Bucky thrust up to meet her awaiting mouth, which she eagerly accepted, not that she could do much else with the way he was all over her. He moaned unabashedly, jerking his length into her mouth until her nose hit his crotch, his head tickling her throat — he stayed there, biting back almost animalistic noises as her throat fluttered around him. He was close, head fuzzy, stomach bubbling and balls twitching.

She moaned breathlessly. Only when darkness spotted at the corners of her eyes did he let off, allowing her to pull back and slip his fat cock from her mouth. She coughed and sputtered, gasping for air, fingers gripping the sheets of the bed.

“Aww angel” his hand smoothed over her head “You’re doing a good job, such a good job…be a good little slut and help me finish”.

His tip rubbed along her parted lips as he jerked himself, his head rolling back again and his jaw dropping as he fucked his fist.

“Hah oh fuck!” He sighed, hand rubbing faster as the muscles in his thighs rippled, clenching and unclenching at the shocks of his impending orgasm. He grasped her hair again, uncaring of just how tight of a grip he had on her, and angled her face just right.

“You ready? You want my fucking cum, Princess? Yeah, you do…mmm…fucking sluts like you…always ready for cum” He rambled, hips arching off the bed as his first wave of cum shot straight up over her nose, dribbling down to her open lips, the rest following the same pattern and decorating her tear-soaked face.

His hand jerked until he was sure nothing was left. “Ohh princess look at you” he laughed heartily at how pathetic she looked; her entire body shaking with want, her chest heaving and her face covered in hot strings of his spunk, he was sure if he dipped a hand between her legs her panties would’ve been soaked through.

He groaned, leaning behind himself to grasp at his phone. When a bratty little slut like her looked like this; all pathetic, trembling and face soaked - he had to get a photo. The soft shutter noise brought Princess back to reality.

“Wha- no you can't!” she began to plead but he shut her up with a soft kiss, his lips smearing more of his thick cooling semen over her mouth.

“Relax, it's just for me…now” His fingers expertly undo the knot holding her wrists together, soothing over the hot flesh before pushing her slightly.

“Get out of here”

She stumbles, like a deer learning to walk for the first time, eyes wide and mouth agape as she watches Bucky tuck himself back into his briefs.

“But you said-”

“I know what I said but I don't think you deserve it, now go get cleaned up… and don't you dare fucking think about touching yourself” Bucky's strong voice silenced her protests.

Princess sniffed as she shuffled out of Bucky’s room; she was so needy it was almost painful. She thought for sure he'd help her, she’d done what he asked.

But Bucky’s sweet little slutty princess would learn that Bucky was not a man she could mess with. He didn't tire quite like the others and he would not stand for her shit.

I would 100% be down for writing more about Princess and Bucky, there’s definitely more to be learned and Bucky is willing to teach. Lemme know what you think :)

I hope you enjoyed x

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mooooonnnzz · 3 months ago

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i would LOVEEE an older sibling reader x mable and dipper (platonic obv). maybe like 3 or 4 years older than them ? just reader trying to wrangle them and make sure they don’t get killed 😭 gender neutral reader if possible pls !! love your writing !! <3

By Your Side

Dipper Pines x Sibling!Reader/Mable Pines x Sibling!Reader

⋅˚₊‧ ଳ ‧₊˚ 3,2k words

⋅˚₊‧ ଳ ‧₊˚ my FIRST dipper and mable sibling fic/request GAHH i had sm fun writing this i love these two sm

⋅˚₊‧ ଳ ‧₊˚ reader is gender neutral + is constantly stressed 24/7

⋅˚₊‧ ଳ ‧₊˚ requests are open!

⋅˚₊‧ ଳ ‧₊˚ if you wanna be added to my taglist, comment or dm me!

⋅˚₊‧ ଳ ‧₊˚ i originally wasn't gonna post 2nite since i was working on another fic n i knew i wasnt gonna finish in time so i brewed this up quickly! eenjoooy :p

♫ Being Mable’s and Dipper’s older sibling comes with its perks, alongside some faults. Since you’re the oldest, you’re constantly looking out for danger they might accidentally fall in. Especially in Gravity Falls. You’d be lying if you said you weren’t partially relieved that you were leaving just because you didn’t need to fret over the thought of losing your siblings. But during your stay in Gravity Falls was a game of chase. You’re trailing after them like a hawk and they keep running away, adventure and mystery in their minds while you’re freaking out of the idea of a possible broken bone. Speeding through the woods in a golf cart, you’re following Mabel’s cries that echo throughout the woods. “This is insane.” You tell yourself, seeing a dip in the road you were following. “Dipper, hold onto something!” You warn, gripping onto the wheel as you dive down into the cave. The wheels bump and smash into rocks, rattling the golf cart as you drive through gravel and comically large stones. You see Mable trying to shake off the gnomes that were climbing up her body in an effort to push her down to the ground and tie her down. “My boyfriend turned out to be a bunch of gnomes!” She kicks on right in the stomach. He rolls up into the and lands to the ground, leaning on a tree he vomits rainbows on the floor. “Gnomes? Huh, I was way off…” Dipper mutters to himself, scanning through his journal.

♫ Your eyes read the page once he lands on the gnome page. “Weakness, UNKNOWN?” Your head bolts up to see Mable already tied to the floor, some gnomes standing on top of her while others are surrounding her. You approach the tiny gnome and confront him. He chortles awkwardly. “This is all just one big misunderstanding! She’s just marrying all one thousand of us and becoming our gnome queen for all of eternity.” He tells you cooly, as if this was something that normally happened here. “Isn’t that right, honey?” He looks over to Mable. “You guys are buttfaces!” A gnome next to her slapped her mouth shut. “Give us back our sister now, or else!” Dipper threatens with a shovel. The gnome goes on this whole rant on how he’s a powerful race and Dipper scoops him up with the shovel and throws him off to the side. Taking your chance, you kick all the gnomes away from Mable and rip the bindings off of her. Grabbing her hand, you pull her into the golf cart. “Seatbelt.” Dipper says as he buckles himself, looking at you and Mable’s seat belt to see if you were wearing them. You backed out of the cave and started speeding out of the woods.

♫ That soon sped to be a rapid chase of cat and mouse. The gnomes binded themselves together and formed a huge gnome that was now chasing you through the forest. A few gnomes flew out of their form and onto Dipper and Mable. Mable was fortunate enough to shake hers off, but Dipper was struggling with his. “Don’t worry, I got you Dipper!” She began throwing mean punches at the gnome and Dipper. The gnome flew off Dipper’s face, taking his hat with him. You glance over to see Dipper’s face all bruised up. “Dipper! Your face.” You screech, sharply turning. Mable teeters out of the car and you grab her quickly, pulling her in. “Dipper’s face is okay. Nothing like a little glitter won’t fix it!” Reaching into her pockets, she throws a puff of glitter. Some glitter gets into your eyes, obstructing your view. “Mable!” Dipper reaches for the wheel and begins steering the cart while you try ridding your eyes of the glitter. The gnomes rip a tree from the ground and launch it forward, it lands right in front of you, a few inches away. “Look out!” Mable warns. “Look out for what?” Your eyelids shakily open and Dipper turns the cart quickly, causing it to spin out of control and fall on its side. You crawl out of the cart and immediately cover Dipper and Mable. The gnome goes on a rant about how he's going to take Mable and force her to marry him. With convincing from Mable, you allow her to take the lead. Her smart thinking saved you and Dipper from the evil gnomes and you hugged it out which led to you scolding them, but in the end you made it out safe with the twins perfectly fine. Although, a tad bit of bruising from Dipper.

♫ “You shouldn’t worry so much about the twins, kid.” Stan offers a light pat to your shoulder, sipping his pitt cola. “I mean I have to, Grunkle Stan. Just yesterday Mable almost became queen to these gnomes! Like, unwillingly. And…!” You’re gesturing wildly as you speak, being extremely passionate about how they stupidly manage to find themselves in danger's palm every single time. Once you finish your wild rant, Grunkle Stan is staring at you with a troubled expression. “Are you sure you’re alright, kid?” His grip on your shoulder tightens and you realize how utterly ridiculous you sound explaining yesterday’s events to some senile old man who only believes what is shown to him on TV. You slide a hand down your face, a stressed out groan expelling from your throat. “Is this how Dipper feels when he tries to tell you his stupid scary experiences in the woods?” You watch as Grunkle Stan smiles, laughing heartily at what you said. “It runs in the family.” He said with a laugh, giving your shoulder a rough shake before walking off into the gift shop.

♫ Legend of the Gobblewonker seriously stressed you out. You were practically on your knees, begging to join Stan on his shabby boat rather than Soos “yacht” to catch a monster that doesn’t actually exist. Dipper was way too passionate about getting the photos he needed to win the prize money and shove it in everyone’s face that there are weird things going on here. And Mable just wanted her stupid human sized hamster ball. “We can go Gobblewanker hunting on Stan’s boat!” You try to reason as they both clicked their life vests on. “It’s actually Gobblewonker, [Name].” Dipper corrected you, stuffing a camera under his hat. “I like Gobblewanker better.” Mable laughs, throwing a bag of cameras over her shoulder. “What? So you guys are going to leave?” Dipper and Mable hop into Soos’s boat, and before they speed off, Soos yells; “Don’t worry, dude! I’ll keep them safe!” You gripped your hair in anger. “Guess it’s just you and me, kid.” Stan hunkered two fishing rods on his shoulder and stepped into his boat. He set everything up and looked at you with an expectant look. “Did they really abandon me like that?” You were still in shock. Your brain replaying the moment where Dipper and Mable were cheering in the back as Soos sailed off into the unknown. “You get used to it.” He shrugs.

♫ Spending half the day fishing with Grunkle Stan wasn’t too bad. He mostly distracted you for the most part, keeping you entertained with jokes and outrageous stories from the past. But when silence came and Grunkle Stan wasn’t talking your ear off, your mind wandered to all the scenarios that could be happening to Dipper and Mable while you’re sitting on a boat, surprisingly enjoying your time with your Grunkle Stan. “Grunkle Stan?” Your voice wavers with anxiety. “Yes?” He grunt frustratingly when a fish swims past his bait. “Could you be so nice to your poor old Grunkle and try reeling in a fish for me?” His head jerks to your discarded fishing rod that was propped up on the boat. “Yeah, sure?” You grab a fishing rod, attach the bait and cast your reel. “Back to what I was saying—“ “ —How’s school going for ya?” He shoots you a questioning look before looking back to where his bait was casted. “Uh,” Did he cut you off on purpose? “School is great.” You scramble for words to say. “It’s my senior year!” You tell him rather enthusiastically. “Senior year, really? I coulda sworn you were in fifth grade.” You gently nudge his arm with your shoulder. “Your grandpa's brain is failing you.” You chuckle, feeling something tug on your fishing rod. You gasp as it pulls you forward. “Grunkle Stan, what do I do?!” Stan forgets all about his fishing rod and tells you to reel it in and he shows you a quick reenacting montage of how you’re supposed to do it. Following exactly what he says, you pull out a really big fish. “What fish is that?” You pant out. You put all your strength and energy into getting that fish and it seems like it paid off. He tells you the type before complimenting you with a; “Good catch, kid!” Stan unhooks the fish from the rod and marvels at the large fish.

♫ Soos comes back with Dipper and Mable but their big boat is now just torn apart and very slowly sinking. You had to hold back a scream because there was no way that this is the condition Soos brings them back in. Dipper and Mable reconcile with Stan and before jumping in, they look at you. Mable bottom lip trembles and her eyes fill up with tears. Dipper has his head hung low, his cap covering his eyes and he’s sadly rubbing his hands together, almost akin to a fly…Their whole weird act made you forget the reason why you were upset in the first place. “What is this, what are you guys doing?” You look at Stan who’s as lost as you are. “We’re sorry, [Name]!” Mable lunges off the boat and into your arms, very dramatically and hugs your stomach tightly. “Sorry for what?” You laughed out, watching Dipper follow in suit. “For leaving you and Grunkle Stan behind.” He said, hugging your side and squishing his cheek into your shoulder. “Oh! I wasn’t expecting you goblins to actually apologize.” You ruffle Mable’s hair, gaining a peeved “Hey!” from her but she makes no effort to swat your hand away. “Dipper told me not to tell you but,” She rose up and stood on the seat of the boat, whispering in your ear how Dipper was on the brink of tears earlier but he didn’t want you to know that because it’ll ruin his tough man bravado.

♫ A laugh escapes you and Dipper is staring at you knowingly, his cheeks flushed red. “A stick went in my eye! That’s why I was crying!” He defended, his voice all squeaky from embarrassment. “Not you using Grunkle Stan’s excuse.” Stan moved from his spot from the mention of him. “Hey, don’t tell them that now.” He crosses his hands over his chest. “It’s not an excuse! I don’t cry and when I do, I have something in my eye.” The rest of the day was you bonding with everyone, fishing and taking photos with the last camera that survived their adventure. And speaking of their adventure, you properly scolded them for leaving you to the dust without any supervision. Soos interjected and said that he was good at taking care of them himself, and you weren’t going to lie, he did keep them in one piece, but you don’t like how he encourages their wild behavior. You soon realized that Stan was making a huge effort to make sure you weren’t constantly thinking about the twins, you had an inkling in your gut and it was nice to be proved right. Stan doesn't really tell you and the twins how much he cares and loves you but he sure tells you by his actions. The little self made hats he made for the fishing trip spoke the truth in your words.

♫ “[Name]! We’re going to a haunted convenience store with Wendy and her friends, just wanted to tell you! Okay, byyeee!” Mable scampered off into the hallway, leaving you in your bed stunned for a few minutes. Shaking your head, you sprung up from your bed and chased after Mable. You caught her wrist before she got the chance to leap outside and leave. “You’re what?” You need her to repeat what she said moments prior just so you can think about your next course of actions. “We’re going to a haunted convenience store.” She said so casually you thought you were mishearing the word haunted in her sentence. “Haunted convenience store?” You repeat slowly. “Yeah! You wanna come with?” Mable grins so widely at the thought of you tagging along. “Why don’t you and Dipper stay home and let the teens do their own things?” You suggest with a strained smile. It’s always something with these two… Mable frowned. “You don’t want to spend time with us?” She’s doing her sad puppy eyes and unluckily for you, her big sad eyes tug at your heartstrings a little too much for your liking. “We can do something else together, Mable.” You tell her in hopes that’ll convince her and change her mind but her display of utter dramatics doesn’t falter. She’s still looking at you with those eyes and that little pout to her lip. Screwing your eyes shut, you let out a defeated sigh. “Is there room for one more?” You dryly said. Mable cheers from the top of her lungs and pulls you along to where one of Wendy’s friends' van is parked.

♫ “Guys! Guys!” Mable jumped up and down. “Can [Name] join us?” She’s already pulling you into the backseat with Dipper who had his arms crossed around his chest moodily. “Of course!” Wendy smiled. “We love having you tag with, [Name].” Tambry said it with little no emotion that you doubted the validity of her words. “[Name], what are you doing here?” Dipper whispered, his tone having a bit of agitation to it. “I’m here because Mable told me you guys were going to a haunted convenience store.” You say as you buckle your seatbelt. “Mable!” Dipper threw his arms out in exasperation. “What? They had to know.” Mable stated as if it was obvious. “And thank you for telling me, Mable. Because if it wasn’t for you, someone would be doing things he shouldn’t be doing.” You send a look over to Dipper who clicked his tongue at you in annoyance. “Dipper is acting like this because he’s embarrassed you’re here with his GIRLFRI–” Dipper’s arm reaches over you and pops Mable in the mouth. “Girlfriend?” You pinch your brows in confusion. “Dipper has a girlfriend?” You give Mable a curious look. “No, not yet at least.” She says slyly as Dipper retracts his hand from Mable’s mouth in disgust. She definitely licked his palm. “Who?” Mable slaps her hands on the side of your face and directs it to where Wendy was sitting. You gasp, looking over to Dipper whose cheeks are flushed with a pink color. “No!” You dramatically yelled. “Do you guys have to be so loud!” Dipper complained, grabbing the sides of his hat and tugging it down to cover his red face. “You do know she’s older than you, Dipper?” You mention. Dipper grumbled, choosing to ignore what you said.

♫ Arriving at the convenient store, Dipper decides to show off to Wendy how cool he can actually be and unlocked the door from the inside. Entering the store, you carefully smacked Dipper in the head. He is trying so hard to appeal to her and it’s really embarrassing to watch. That was really the whole vibe the entire time you were there, you were making sure Mable wasn’t doing anything stupid and you were just watching Dipper try super hard for Wendy’s friends to like them. “Oh my gosh, smile dip!” Mable picked up a pack and held it up in the air. “I thought this stuff was banned in america!” She sat down on the floor, smiling gleefully at the pack of candy. “Maybe it was for a good reason?” Dipper got thrown a balloon full of cheese to the face. He laughed, running over to where the fight was happening to join in. You were going to ask if Mable was actually going to eat candy that has been sitting in this convenience store for who knows how long, but this is mable you’re talking about, of course she’d eat it. Ripping open the packet, she grabbed the candy stick and dipped it in the candied powder. She eyed the powdery stick for a second. In a quick swoosh, she dumped all the dip into her mouth. “Don’t eat too much of these, Mable.” You tell her. “I won’t!” Clouds of glitter poofed out of her mouth when she spoke. You couldn’t quite pinpoint where everything went wrong, but always in this town, something went wrong which led to a ball of events unraveling. Mable was floating up in the air, being used as a vessel from one of the ghosts that possessed the store that locked you and everyone else inside. “Hey, ghost!” Dipper pointed at the ghost. “Yes?” The ghost eerily turned over to Dipper. “I’ve got something to tell you.” The ghost lifted Dipper from the floor. “I’m not a teenager!” You turn over to Wendy. “Did he tell you that he was a teenager?” Wendy let out a shy laugh. “Yeah, he told me that Mable and him were thirteen. Technically teenagers.” You slapped a hand on your forehead, laughing with Wendy. “He’s ridiculous.”

♫ After recovering from your laughter, you turned your attention back to Dipper who adorned a horrendously cute lamb costume. Recognition washes over you at seeing getting into the lamby lamby dance position. “When Dipper was younger, he used to do this cute dance all the time in his little lamb costume he was obsessed with.” Wendy awe’s. Dipper dances and sings the lamby lamby dance. The ghosts, satisfied with Dipper’s performance, lift his curse. After grouping up, Wendy told a quick rundown of what happened while everyone was out, excluding the part where he had to sing in a lamb costume. Dipper was praised for being brave while on the way out to the car. “How’s your stomach feeling?” You look over your shoulder to see Mable who was lying limp on your back. “It huuurtsss…” She burped sparks of glitter. “Woah!” You laughed. “This is the last time I’m ever going to eat sweet stuff ever again…” You knew she was going to lay off the candy for like two days before rummaging in the fridge for icy pops. Taking Mable off your back, you placed her on the chair and buckled her seatbelt. She flopped against the window, groaning as she held her stomach. Dipper came climbing in a moment after, a pleased smile on his face. “What’s got you looking so happy with yourself?” Dipper’s smile grew. “Wendy wants to hang out with me!” He vibrated with excitement. “You really think you have a chance with her?” Dipper’s smile never wavered, too caught up in the high knowing his crush invited him to more potential hangouts. “Shh, no more talking.” Mable lazily slapped your arm. “You guys talking makes my stomach hurt.”

Taglist: @boredwithlifeatthispoint, @lovexsage, @teddycricketdream, @theilluminatidragonqueen, @raventeen@cedarmoonzz

#gravity falls #gravity falls x reader #dipper pines x reader #mable pines x reader #stanley pines x reader #dipper pines x sibling!reader #mable pines x sibling!reader

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