#you'd be dead with alcohol poisoning

[lilac-melody]

Yall take a shot for every time that Aizou says “you really aren’t cute at all!” to Yujiro

not just in the novels, but in the entire LIPxLIP franchise.

[m00nl1ghts1vt]

You Like Me? - Matt Sturniolo

Part Two Pairings; bsf!Matt x bsf!Reader Summary; After Chris & Nick convince Matt to go to a party with them, he overdoes it and has to carried home. The night ends in a silly drunken confession. Wc; 1458 Warnings; fluff 🥰 strong language, mentions of alcohol use, vomitting, A.n; This is my first imagine & third post. Check out my Matt & Chris hc!! All reactions are highly appreciated ❤️ Current Matt series - City of Love

"Chris, you have to hold him up," Nick complains to his brother. You guys were coming in from a fun night out, after finally convincing their introverted brother to tag along, with the help of yourself of course.

You fumbled with the key, trying to put it in the keyhole but failing once again.

"C'mon Y/n, this man is fucking dead weight back here," Chris groans. You look over your shoulder to see a flustered, yet aggravated expression etched across his face. Poor guy.

Matt overdid it and had way too many shots tonight which was odd because you'd think he would've been completely out of his comfort zone, making him not want to drink at all but it did the complete opposite. Little did you know the only reason he even came out tonight was because you were going to be there and he couldn't bear the thought of sitting at home alone, not knowing if another guy was flirting with you or not. That and he had plans to let the liquid courage help him confess his feelings for you tonight. The feelings he had been dying to tell you since the third month of your friendship, when he actually figured it out it wasn't just attraction he had towards you.

You felt bad seeing the boys struggle to hold him up, each one of Matt's arms draped over their shoulders as he lets all of his weight hang at his feet. You quickly mumble a sorry before successfully sticking the key in the keyhole and unlocking the door. You push it open, stepping aside so you aren't in the way, going in behind them and closing it.

"Birds of a feather, we should stick together," you hear your best friend sing as his brothers drag him down the hall to his room. You throw your head back laughing as you stumble out of your heels. Matt already threw up twice - once at the party and another time in the car. It was in serious need of a detailing this week.

"Oh my fucking-," you hear Nick shout from Matt’s bedroom, "gross!" His voice is quickly followed by gut wrenching gags from Matt, or maybe it was one of his brothers. All you knew is that someone was puking so you raced down the hall, your own drunken haze wearing you down causing you to go slower, stumbling over your own two feet.

You turn the corner of Matt's bedroom, seeing him slumped over his bedside trash bin, emptying his stomach, for the third time tonight. Your motherly instincts kick in and you make your way to him, rubbing his back as he continues to throw up. His body wasn't used to that much alcohol, he wasn't a drinker at all.

"Oh Matt," you coo, attempting to soothe him as he hurls. You look over at his brothers, both covered in Matt's throw up with disgusted looks on their faces. "Has he eaten anything?" concern laced through your voice, "his stomach can't handle all the alcohol he had to tonight. Go get a couple pieces of bread for him to eat," you order, hoping one of them will do as you say so you don't have to leave Matt's side. You had been through the exact same thing he was going through one too many times, so you knew exactly what he needed.

Nick rushes out of the room, coming back with a couple pieces of bread and a bottle of water. He sets it down on the nightstand and takes a few steps back, clearly concerned about Matt because he's not worried about being covered in puke.

You look over at him, "you should go get changed. I got him, he'll be okay," reassuring him. Chris stood in the doorway, "are you sure?" He takes a few steps forward and looks at Matt, "what if he has alcohol poisoning?"

"Alco-whaa?" Matt grumbles, lifting his head from the trashcan and falling back on the bed.

"He'd be way worse if he had that," you tell him, "trust me," before sitting Matt up and wiping his mouth. To no avail, he slumps over and hits his head on the headboard, groaning and throwing a hand up to cover the goose egg that's more than likely forming. You sigh, pulling him up again, this time propping him up with pillows. "Here," cracking the water bottle open and bringing it to his lips, "drink."

Matt takes a sip from the water bottle, looking at you with his eyes bleary from the inoperative state the alcohol had him in. You smile at him, taking the water bottle away and replacing it with a piece of bread, "eat it," nodding him on. He takes a big bite and chomps on it, making you giggle. You look at Chris and Nick, kind of like you're reassuring them he'd be just fine. It works and they go on their way to clean themselves up.

You watch has Matt still chomps on his bread, staring at you with ogle eyes, "you're so fucking pretty," his speech is still slurred but a lot clearer than before. 

A blush creeps up on your face, "shut up, Matt. You're drunk."

"S'what," he slurs, a kool-aid smile stretched across his smile, "you're still gorgeous." 

Over the last year and a half, you and Matt had been friends, and he never flirted with you. So, your immediate thought was it had to be caused by his intoxicated state.

"Shut up and eat your bread," you mumbled a bit embarrassed. Thank God Chris and Nick weren't in the room, they'd never let the two of you live it down. Standing up to set the water on his nightstand, Matt reaches his hands out to your thighs, pulling you towards him.

You squeal at the sudden contact, "Matt, what are you doing?!"

"Cuddle with me," he whines, making sure to keep a tight grip on the backs of your thighs, pressing his head to your stomach. You look down at him, pushing a piece of hair out of his face. Matt looks up with the biggest puppy dog eyes, "please."

How could you say no to that face? Yeah, you found Matt attractive, who didn't? But you never thought he'd have his arms wrapped around your waist, begging you to cuddle with him. After debating with your inner conscious for a second, you convince yourself the outcome couldn't be that bad. Nodding to Matt, "fine," pushing him back and crawling up next to him.

His arm snakes around your shoulder and you lay your head on his chest. The two of you stay frozen in time for a while and he finally looks down at you, "I really like you, Y/n."

You snicker, "go to sleep, Matt." You were definitely giving him shit about this in the morning.

"I'm not that drunk anymore," he tells you in a defensive tone before sitting up, making you sit up with him. What was this kid getting at? Confusion spreads across your face and your eyes search the room, almost like you’re for hidden cameras. "The water helped," you hear him say.

"So, what are you trying to say, Matt," you keep your tone quiet. Was he implying he had feelings for you? You two have been friends for a little a year and a half so this sudden confession had you struck for words. Matt had never indicated he liked you or even looked at you as anything more than friends. There were no signs. This was out of the blue for you.

"I like you," he hums, obviously still drunk but not as drunk as before. He was sobering up by the minute now that the bread was absorbing all the leftover alcohol in his stomach. He looks at you, leaning in, "just told you that, silly goose," and bops your nose with his index finger.

"Y-you like me?" you stutter, trying not to overreact, "since when?"

"Since forever, duh," he laughs. Usually Matt would be embarrassed to no end having confessed his feelings to you but his intoxicated state put him at ease, "ask anyone. They all know," he nods proudly.

You ran your finger through your hair, not believing what you're hearing. "You're gonna regret this in the morning, Matthew," you tell him, using his full government name so he knows you're serious.

"Nuh-uh," he argues, "that's the only reason I got this wasted tonight, so I'd finally tell you." His final confession leaves your jaw hanging wide open, "ask my brothers. They knew the plan," he giggles before falling back onto his bed and letting the liquor take over his system, sending him into a deep sleep.

Not my photos for dividers. All credit is due to original creators! ❤️

Wrote this while taking a hot bubble bath. 10/10 recommend.

First imagine so let me know what you think!! 💚

My requests are always open!

[romanticintheory]

thinking about simon riley being betrayed by reader.

simon "ghost" riley x reader

-when you first joined the task force, you were a breath of fresh air.

-you were extremely good at what you did and had great chemistry with everyone. even simon.

-kyle loved having you as his new training buddy. the two of you found that your music tastes surprisingly overlapped, so you'd often share playlists with each other.

-johnny was, as always, excited to have someone new to banter with. if he had to take a shot for every time you made him laugh, he'd probably be dead from alcohol poisoning.

-john was relieved seeing you integrate so well into his team. it was like introducing a new puppy to three of his own. when laswell sat him down and introduced your file, a little barren compared to the others (save for simon) but with a raving review from the woman herself, he was curious to see your character.

-and even if he didn't show it, simon was the most grateful for your arrival. there was just an unspoken level of understanding between the two of you.

-one day, you're kneeling next to him on the floor trying to put pressure on his wound and keep him alive long enough for help to arrive. you didn't know each other extremely well, but you seemed so upset. he couldn't imagine why.

-"hey, now, don't go quiet on me, lt," you said in an almost begging tone.

-"you must not know me well," he replied, fighting groans from the pain.

-you ignore his attempt at amusing you. "tell me something," you order, voice starting to crack.

-so, he did. maybe it was the fact that he was lightheaded from the blood loss and half delusional, or maybe it was that he wanted to feel closer to you, but he ended up telling you about his family. he talked about the monster of a man his father was, how he learned to throw him out and take care of his family, and how not even that had a happy ending.

-by the end of it, there was a voice on the other end of your radio telling you they were less than a minute away from help. you slipped your hand into his and told him, "if you can survive that, you can survive this."

-it wasn't until after he recovered that he found out you had your own stab wound to take care of. why you completely disregarded it in favor of his, he'll never know.

-ever since, there was a change in the air between you two. fleeting glances, lingering touches, warm faces. it got even worse when you confessed your feelings to each other, and johnny made sure to be as obnoxious about it as possible.

-for a long time before you, simon felt a kind of loneliness within him. sure, the rest of the team was good company and he'd trust them with his life, but you seemed to do more than just break down his walls. somehow, you seeped through the cracks in his heart and made a home of it. that's why he is so surprised when everyone is taken prisoner except you after an unexpected ambush.

-the surprise eventually turns into something worse.

-there's a blinding rage surging in his veins and an icy coldness in his heart when he catches a glimpse of you acting buddy-buddy with the enemy.

-you're called a name he had never heard before, "(y/n) (l/n)," and being congratulated on your return.

-"knew you'd never disappoint us! and four of 'em, too!"

-how could you to this to them? to him?

-he spends the next excruciatingly long hours as a prisoner with no sleep. the only thing on his mind is wondering what went wrong. what did he miss? what could he have done differently? for a second, he wants to think about how he'd get vengeance on you, but he couldn't. his mind wouldn't let him, and he cursed himself for it. were you that good at manipulation? at seducing him with your supposed love and humanity that, even now, he can't think of you with ill intent without that sour feeling in his chest haunting him?

-he thinks he's hallucinating when he sees you standing at the now unlocked door to his cell with the rest of the task force standing behind you. you speak in a quick, hushed whisper, as if there was barely any time to even say a single word.

-"you'll have to be quick if you want to get out of here."

[mvrkieboo]

Old Bloodhounds

P51 | jeong y/n

"Thank you for this, Park. I appreciate it." Taeyong spoke tiredly into the phone, and he could hear Chanyeol laugh on the other line.

"Kid, you've worked with me for nearly a year now, ease up a bit and just call me Chanyeol. Here, the name at the top of the list, Kim Soyeon, owns a café in Sinchon. Says here it's supposed to close in another hour. Hey, I'll give you the rest of the info through text—just get going already, Yongie." Chanyeol's voice took a sober turn, understanding the current mood. It was also Chanyeol who ended the call right after.

Kyungsoo had texted him you were currently undergoing emergency surgery, and you were probably getting out of it the next morning considering the stab wound punctured your lung and broke through your ribs. The paramedic also found that there was a nasty gash at the back of your head, a possible concussion...or worse. Taeyong cringed when he read the details of your injuries, but he shook his head.

You were going to make it out alive, he was sure of it. From what he had gathered from Kyungsoo about who you were as a person, you were strong, and you'd been good in keeping your promise to them to hold on—so Taeyong had a lot of trust in you that you'd keep that promise 'til the end.

Nobody on the list was picking up his calls, it's why he asked for Chanyeol's assistance in gathering more info regarding the people on your list. When Chanyeol's text came through, Taeyong focused on the address of Kim Soyeon's café.

ooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

When Taeyong parked the car, that's when he noticed the bloodstains you had left on his jacket and shirt. His jacket was already black, so it didn't really show, but his button-up shirt under the jacket was light blue—now partly red, soaked in your blood. He took out his wet tissue packet and cleaned his jacket before zipping it all the way up. Glancing at his cleaned up watch, it was currently 8:21 p.m. He got out of the car with a heavy feeling lingering in his chest.

As he got to the café's front entrance, your note in his hands, he noticed that the sign on the front entrance said 'CLOSED' and another note below said 'PRIVATE EVENT'. Since the café had large window panes all over, he could see there was a private celebration inside, and there were mostly young adult attendees. He knocked on the glass door, and a kind looking middle aged woman opened the door, not exiting fully.

"Good evening. I'm sorry, but the café is closed to the public for now—"

Taeyong shook his head awkwardly and took out his badge, showing it to her.

"My name is Lee Taeyong, and I'm a detective from Gangnam's Police Force. Ma'am, do you happen to be Kim Soyeon?" This wouldn't be the first time he had to do a house visit to inform a victim's family, but it never got easier.

And it never will.

Soyeon paused, before exiting the café completely and closed the door behind her. Nobody noticed the exchange happening, too caught up in their own conversations.

At first, Soyeon thought he was here to inform about her ex-husband—maybe found dead from alcohol poisoning somewhere in Gangnam, or he was arrested and needed someone to bail him out. So that was the first thing she asked.

"Is this about my ex-husband?" Soyeon pursed her lips a little, hugging herself in the cold autumn night.

"No, ma'am, it's regarding...it's Jeong Y/N. I understand that— based on this note she gave me—you're close with her?" Taeyong felt like he was speaking with a mouth filled with molasses. His tongue felt heavy, and even his lips too.

He showed the note to Kim Soyeon, suddenly finding himself tongue-tied. When she read the contents of the note, her hands began to shake as her grip on the note tightened, crumpling the paper.

"...she's like a daughter to me. Did something happen to her?" She spoke in a near whispery tone, and Taeyong almost didn't hear her.

When Soyeon clarified her relationship with you, calling you a daughter figure to her, Taeyong's heart broke into two as he felt shame creeping up his body. He moved to kneel before her, making her shriek, because she knew that a detective wouldn't kneel to a random civilian unless something really bad actually happened to you.

Everyone else in the café froze in silence when they heard her shriek and turned to the glass doors of the front entrance, seeing an unknown man kneeling in front of Soyeon. Geonwoo marched up to the front entrance, opening the glass doors immediately, worried for his mother. Woojin was just right behind him.

"Mom, what's going—"

She bent down, hands on Taeyong's shoulders as she pulled on his jacket, and as his jacket rode up, his bloodstained shirt under peaked through, gaining Woojin's attention at just how soaked in blood it was. The note dropped on the pavement near Taeyong's knees.

"WHAT HAPPENED TO HER? WHERE'S Y/N! TELL ME!" Soyeon yelled loudly, pulling the attention of the people inside and outside of the café.

Yuno and his father, upon hearing your name, quickly went to the front entrance too, wondering why Soyeon was shrieking out your name like a mad woman.

Geonwoo held his mother, confused with what she was talking about. Yuno noticed there was a written note near Taeyong's knees and bent down to pick up, freezing when he recognized the writing.

"Jeong Y/N was found beaten and stabbed multiple times near downtown Seoul—and is currently receiving emergency surgery at TaeHo Memorial Hospital. I'll explain everything once we get to the hospital, ma'am. My partner is there waiting for Y/N to get out of surgery."

Mark who was huddled up near the entrance with the rest of the attendees—wedged between Haechan and Yuta—dropped his drink to the floor, glass shattering on the tiles.

ooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

Yangyang truly didn't give a fuck. His name was also on the list, along with Xiaojun's and Aeri's, so they should be allowed to go to the hospital too. Aeri was crying in the passenger seat with Xiaojun sitting still in the back, looking like he was in shock. Yangyang pressed on the gas pedal when Geonwoo's Ford truck in front of him was beginning to get farther away from his McLaren.

Right in front of Geonwoo's truck was the detective's car, revolving light shining red and alarm ringing out loud in the night. Mark rode with Geonwoo and Woojin, while Soyeon, Yuno and your dad rode with the detective.

"God, please let Y/N remain among the living. Please, please, please... don't take her away from those who love her so soon..." Yangyang could hear Aeri's incessant prayers, making him slam his hand on the wheel at how heartbreaking it was to hear her pray through choked sobs.

Aeri was never that religious, and him and Xiao didn't even believe in anything at all—but he hoped that Aeri's prayers were heard and granted. In fact, even his heart was praying alongside Aeri.

He really thought they had moved past you now, he really did. At least, he thought he himself did. He remembered feeling nothing but disdain when he saw you at the post mortem meeting a week ago, and he thought that was him forgetting all about you.

But as he prayed in his heart, to a higher power he didn't even personally believe in, he realised he will always care for you no matter what, whether he wanted to or not.

He floored the pedal.

ooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

Geonwoo, Woojin and Mark ran to the waiting area, with your friends right behind them too. They came to see your father kneeling in front of a man standing beside Detective Lee, Mr. Jeong's hands pulling on the man's shirt—and they assumed that man was Taeyong's partner, Detective Do Kyungsoo. Geonwoo and Woojin were familiar with his name, albeit a little sparsely, because you had mentioned Detective Do before.

Yuno was bent behind your father, supporting the older man even when he himself was starting to crack, tears streaming down his face.

"How could someone as small as my daughter bleed this much!" Your father wailed, and it made Geonwoo and Woojin stop in their tracks as they fully took in Detective Do.

Kyungsoo had a haunted look across his face as he held your father's hands, and the shirt your father was gripping on was soaked in red. Even the cuffs of his corduroy jacket were bloodstained. Even his hands had dried blood on them. He was so soaked in your blood, they understood exactly what your father was feeling right now.

Pure unadulterated fear.

"Mom..." Geonwoo uttered out, and his mom broke down hearing her son's voice, urging him to go and be with her.

As soon she felt his arms around her, she let out a sob, "She was stabbed twice, it broke through her ribs and punctured her lung. They suspect a concussion too, based on the gash she had at the back of her head."

Yuno began to pull your father up, face suddenly blank of any emotions. It was as if hell froze over for him.

"You never told us who did this to her." Yuno spoke almost emotionlessly—but Mark, who had known him the longest besides your father, could tell he was furious.

Kyungsoo stared at his hands and shirt, feeling like he could never wash your blood off of him. He heard Yuno's question loud and clear, but he was just thinking on where he should start.

Did your fate get sealed the moment Junyoung stepped into the police station and filed a report on how Yoonsu was exploiting you? When Junyoung suddenly disappeared right after he graduated? When Yoonsu managed to slip away as they busted down the doors of his establishment?

Or should he start with the fact that this all happened because him and his old partner was reckless enough to involve a teenage girl in their investigation against ruthless loanshark like Yoonsu?

"Hyung..." Taeyong spoke softly.

Kyungsoo took out your locket from his jacket's front pocket. He felt his heart drop when he noticed you were wearing this locket as you lied on the stretcher inside the ambulance. He recognized the locket—you had worn it before when you were still Yoonsu's prized girlfriend. This was the bugged locket Yoonsu made you wear.

That fucker was sick in the head.

Mark—of all people, Mark—walked up to Kyungsoo and gripped on the collar of his jacket, shaking the detective, frustrated with his lack of words. Everyone else balked at the sight while Woojin moved quickly to try and hold the younger man back, holding on to his shoulder, but Mark shook Woojin's hand off of him.

"Stop staying quiet, you bastard—tell us who did this to her!" Mark raised his voice.

"Mark!" Woojin yelled, and Taeyong was already trying to wedge himself between them too.

"It was Cha Yoonsu. Beat her up good, then he stabbed her twice before he stabbed himself in the throat...can't arrest a dead guy." Kyungsoo uttered out, voice as monotoned as Yuno's before.

Geonwoo and Woojin froze, while the rest of your friends and family were wondering just who the fuck was Cha Yoonsu? Geonwoo let go of his mother, beyond perplexed with Kyungsoo's answer. Didn't you tell them that Yoonsu was already dead more than a week ago?

"Cha Yoonsu? Didn't you make her come down to Gangnam mortuary a week ago to ID his corpse?" Woojin asked what Geonwoo was thinking, and the detective let out a scoff.

"Gosh, back then he even had me fooled. Held Y/N hostage with that blackmail hanging over her head and made her his puppet." Kyungsoo sighed, messing with his hair as he was reminded of how foolish he had been, thinking that the corpse on the mortuary slab was actually Yoonsu.

"What the fuck are you talking about? Who the fuck is Cha Yoonsu? And what do you mean by blackmail!" Yangyang broke out in anger, frustrated that he wasn't understanding a single thing coming out of anyone's mouth at the moment.

"And where's Junyoung? She had plans with him for tonight." Aeri spoke through hiccups, and Xiaojun wrapped an arm around her shoulders to calm her down once the shock wore off.

Kyungsoo and Taeyong felt like the fog was lifted; these people knew jackshit. No wonder they were fooled by Yoonsu's poor rendition of Junyoung—no wonder you left Taeyong that note. This was what you meant by not wanting to keep them in the dark anymore. They had very little idea on what you actually went through back then.

In fact, it was as if they had very little idea on who Jeong Y/N really was before they met her.

"I need all of you to sit first as I explain to you how everything led up to this. Please, take a seat everyone. I'm now well aware just how little you know about Y/N's past." Kyungsoo sighed.

"We know she was forced to work for a loanshark to clear her late stepfather's debt after our mother abandoned her." Yuno spoke out, and Kyungsoo tilted his head at him.

"Then how come some of you don't know who's Cha Yoonsu?" Taeyong asked sincerely.

"Who is Cha Yoonsu?" Yangyang asked again, still clearly frustrated.

Kyungsoo and Taeyong eyed Geonwoo and Woojin, because out of all of them, the ex MMA athletes were the ones that seemed to be aware of who exactly was Cha Yoonsu.

"Cha Yoonsu was the loanshark she was forced to work for. He had her working as a stripper at his illegal establishment, and also coerced her into a romantic relationship with him while she worked under him. This locket was gifted to her with the promise that he would marry her once her debt was settled." Kyungsoo explained thoroughly who Cha Yoonsu was, and what kind of man he had been, holding up the locket they had seen you wear ever since you introduced them to Junyoung.

Geonwoo and Woojin looked at each other—they didn't know that he had made you his girlfriend at one point while you worked for him. This was something you didn't tell them about your past—something you hid from them.

Everyone felt sick to their stomach, going pale at the realization this all happened when you were still a teenager.

Your father felt his knees going weak and practically dropped himself on the chair, while your brother felt bile coming up his throat imagining his teenager younger sister dating an adult man who obviously wanted to take advantage of you.

"What a disgusting bastard." Mark spoke out quietly, but you could still hear the fury in his voice.

"Lee Junyoung was Y/N's senior at Cheongdaebi High in Gangnam, it's where they met. They eventually became close friends. Junyoung was an illegitimate child of the Lee Media Conglomerate, so he had quite a reputation in Gangnam already. He also had a cousin on his stepmother's side who worked in Gangnam's Police Force Organized Crime Unit—that was my old partner, Kim Junmyeon.

When Junyoung found out Y/N was in an abusive relationship, and her boyfriend also turned out to be the loanshark who was exploiting her, he filed a police report to his cousin. We were already investigating Cha Yoonsu and building a case against him—so when we found out Junyoung's little friend was also Yoonsu's girlfriend, we roped her in. Made her our mole in Yoonsu's workforce." Geonwoo and Woojin bristled, finding it so reckless of them for putting you in a dangerous spot.

It was why Yoonsu was so hellbent in getting his revenge on you. Ignoring the way Geonwoo and Woojin were glaring at him, Kyungsoo continued.

"Yoonsu already kept an eye out on Junyoung because he was close to Y/N, but he was livid when he found out the kid filed a police report against him. Right after Junyoung graduated, he disappeared. Many thought he ran away from his family, but Y/N was convinced Yoonsu did something to him, so she filed a missing person's report on Junyoung.

Once we gathered sufficient evidence through Y/N's help, we busted down the doors of his establishment only for him to slip away after he could confirm it was Y/N that had been our informant—it was the botched operation of the decade." The older detective let out a bitter smile, remembering how harshly his captain had slapped him for letting Yoonsu slip away, and for letting you flee Gangnam.

"So the Junyoung Y/N introduced to us..." Xiaojun asked tentatively, horror written all over his face.

"It had been Cha Yoonsu who had cosmetic procedures done on him to look like Lee Junyoung. Y/N was well aware of who he really was, so she wasn't fooled in any way." Taeyong confirmed, making Xiaojun promptly ask the next question—

"Then why didn't she say something—anything to let us know she was in danger?"

Taeyong gulped, while a haze glazed over Kyungsoo's eyes. They remembered the first time they opened the blackmail file Yoonsu had over you. Pictures and videos—countless of it—of a teenager you in skimpy clothing, dancing upon the pole with slimy men surrounding you, and your face clearly showed that you'd rather be anywhere else but there.

"The fucker had a file filled with pictures and videos of her when she worked as his stripper—he blackmailed her with it. He also hacked her phone and made her wear this locket which—" Kyungsoo paused, holding up the locket again and opening it to show them the contents, "—contains a bug that could pick up on everything Y/N says. She was constantly under his surveillance. She was his hostage. Y/N was trapped. If she says one wrong thing, then those pictures will spread across her faculty, then her whole campus, the nation—anyone would know better than to take Yoonsu's threats lightly, even though he is a disgraced boss now."

"As some of you know," Taeyong began to take over, looking over to Geonwoo and Woojin as he stressed on 'some', "we had Y/N come down to Gangnam mortuary to ID a corpse we believed was Yoonsu's, and she did give us a positive ID—however, just three days after, she reached out to Detective Do through an unknown number and begged us to believe her when she said Yoonsu was still alive...and she was currently living with him.

It was a good thing Detective Do went ahead and sent the corpse to another mortuary that confirmed it wasn't actually Yoonsu's—and that's how we began to investigate this 'Lee Junyoung' Y/N was living with, and got to reopen the case against Cha Yoonsu. We got to hack into his phone and wipe out the blackmail file he had over her, and uncovered the text messages he exchanged with Y/N and—" Taeyong crossed his arms, taking a pause in telling the main points to address something that stuck to him ever since he read the text messages between you and Yoonsu.

"—I just want to let you know it was always in Yoonsu's plan for Y/N to isolate herself from you. Y/N never wanted to make you feel like you didn't matter to her, but he was blackmailing her to do so. Detective Do once told me she's people-centric, and Yoonsu was well aware of that. It was just a way for Yoonsu to put her through psychological torture."

Everyone's heart broke and tore itself apart hearing Taeyong say that.

Yuno dropped his head and covered his face with his hands, rubbing it when he was reminded of the argument he had with you before you moved out, how he had ignored you during your last days in the condo, practically treated you like you were an unappreciated houseplant. Now that he knew you never meant the things you said, but he had meant his every single word and action.

Geonwoo and Woojin were reminded of the last time they texted you through 'the crew' groupchat, and how Woojin had told you 'good riddance' when you confirmed you were moving in with 'Junyoung'.

Yangyang remembered how horribly he treated you, openly ignoring you to get his disdain for you across, the way you clearly looked uncomfortable and sad during the post mortem meeting for how they treated you. Aeri looked back and reminisced about the time you called each other 'soulmates', and how easily she got rid of the memories when she chose to ignore you from the day of the concert.

Xiaojun could never forgive himself for treating you like a distant acquaintance as if he hadn't told you his regrets and secrets that you still kept close to your heart despite the fallout. It was worse than just openly ignoring you—whereas Yangyang and Aeri were at least open with their dislike for you, Xiaojun treated you with indifference. As if he wasn't at all affected with you pulling yourself away from them, like he didn't really care for you at all.

Mark felt like puking when he realised the last time he argued with spoke to you, he had called you a coward. Of all the insults he could use that would at least be generic, surface-level and the least hurtful, he called you a coward. You were getting blackmailed, held hostage, and manipulated by a slimy bastard—and he called you a coward. As if you weren't being the bravest you'd ever been as you faced Yoonsu alone with no one else on your side. As if you haven't always been the bravest among them.

When everyone's reminded of their promise to forget you, it felt like their whole chest was caving in. When they tried to imagine just how alone you had been, how hurt you were to see them push you away, it felt like there were bullets getting lodged inside their chest for every time they yelled, berated, and ignored you.

Seeing everyone go quiet at the realization they had played a part in Yoonsu's plan to psychologically break you, both detectives sighed. Yoonsu intended for this kind of damage. Not only you suffered, but the pain also bled through to everyone else around you, to the people who love and care for you.

"It was just hours ago when we wiped out the file from his phone. Once we did it, we told Y/N to leave their apartment so we could get to arrest him, but she didn't listen. She..." Kyungsoo sighed in the middle, opening his phone and showed the text messages he exchanged with you just hours ago, "...she still followed him to where he was taking her because she still wanted to know what he did to Junyoung—where his body was buried. I know for a fact she had never stopped mourning for him...and it's why she felt responsible for his death. Why she decided to put herself in danger anyway, how she ended up getting beaten up and stabbed by Yoonsu—because that's just who she is. Jeong Y/N. So selfless, it's actually selfish."

That was the actualisation of who you really were. Selfishly selfless. They now know of who Jeong Y/N truly is at her core.

Damn you.

ooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

"Jeong Y/N." The main surgeon spoke out hoarsely—she had been in that surgical suite for more than 6 hours.

It was in the dead of the night, the large digital clock in the waiting area displayed '03:06 A.M.' in blaring red. Kyungsoo and Taeyong stood up while the rest woke up who had dozed off into light slumber. They couldn't really sleep too deeply, when they're still not sure of your fate in that surgical suite.

When a total of 11 people came to her at the sound of your name, she nearly took a step back. This was a lot of people to be waiting for someone to get out of surgery.

"How is she, Doc?" Kyungsoo asked stiffly, feeling his breath slow as he waited for her to answer.

"She pulled through."

ooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

She's a fighter. One of the stab wounds managed to puncture her right lung, and even broke through her 8th and 9th rib. I managed to fix them up, of course, but with how much blood she was losing, within a rapid rate too, I wasn't all that optimistic that she would even make it—but she did. With the way she held on, she saved herself as much as I saved her.

"God, look at what he did to her face. Oh, my sweet girl—what did he do to you?" Yuno's dad sobbed quietly, caressing his daughter's watercolor blotched cheek, as he wailed over your swollen and split lips, your bandaged nose.

Soyeon sat on the sofa of the VIP room, crying silently as she stared at you. She wished she had done something. She wished she had seen through your attempts in pushing her away. What kind of mother was she? When she couldn't even tell her child was in pain and suffering?

Yuno held your open hand, wishing you were gripping on his back, tears streaming down his face but not making a sound as he cried. It broke his heart—he barely recognized you when he saw you. The bruises on your face were too much. He felt his own face aching just by looking at you. He wanted to beat himself up for ignoring before you moved out. He didn't care for all the hurtful things you said to him anymore, he just wanted to be family again.

He wished he got the chance to beat Cha Yoonsu into a pulp.

May I ask what happened to her abuser? Dead? Good. I know she was found beaten at the crime scene, but the bruises all over her body were new and old. Days and weeks old, even. The most severe one was at her stomach—I had to be careful with cutting her torso open because of how sore it was. He kicked her there pretty good, repeatedly too—but thank god not hard enough it would've done any more damage on her rib cage. However, she still needs to take it easy with any kind of upper body and hip movement during her recovery. The rest of the bruises could go away on their own.

"If that bastard was still alive, I would get my whole soccer team—even the benched kids—to jump him for you. I'm even considering defacing his resting place, because he doesn't deserve to rest peacefully for all that he did to you, Y/N." Yangyang heaved in anger from the opposite side of where Yuno was sitting beside your bed. He blinked away his tears, tasting more bitter and sour than salty—fuck, he was so angry and sad that his tears didn't even taste right.

Aeri was holding on to your other hand, still praying, sounding like a zealot. She had hoped her hand kept yours warm too. If Yoonsu was still alive, she wouldn't be braindead enough to think just beating him half to death could ease her anger. She'd burn him, make him a furnace to keep you warm. She'd do anything to him just for you.

Xiaojun was sitting on a chair beside Yangyang, keeping your hair neat. More often than not, you had always complained that even though you loved how long hair looks on you, you sometimes hated how it would feel. Of course, now that you're still sleeping, he'd keep it neat for you. It was the least he could do for you—because it's not like he had the chance to kill Yoonsu for you. The bastard did the honors himself, it seemed.

She's getting wheeled to the VIP room right now. Heard that someone among you has connections to the one who funds this hospital—and good for her, then. After all that kid has been through, I'm glad she gets to rest in a comfortable room, with plenty of space for all of you to fit—just, don't huddle too closely over her, okay? I know you're all worried for her, but she just got out of surgery, so there's still risks of infection and whatnot.

Geonwoo and Woojin were just right outside, talking with a man decked out in an obviously very expensive casual clothing set. The man seemed fond of the ex MMA athletes, even calling them his younger brothers, and it wasn't at all surprising to see him so fond of them considering he drove to the hospital at 3 a.m. in the morning to see them. The man was Hong Minbeom, and he was the one who pulled the strings to get you the VIP room. He's the one behind the hospital's funding.

"Thanks again, Hyung." Geonwoo sighed, looking at the door.

Minbeom beamed at the both of them.

"It's no biggie, kiddos. Just tell her I wish her a speedy recovery."

Minbeom had met you before. When they held a gala to officiate Taeho Memorial Hospital's opening, Geonwoo brought Taeho's granddaughter as his plus one, and Woojin had brought you as their plus one. The chaebol found you to be a cute kid, a good fit with his two younger brothers. He didn't mind doing a favour for you, considering you were also a victim of a bastard loanshark like he had been a victim of Kim Myeonggil.

Here's the bad news though. Clearly, something very hard hit her head, and then she got stabbed not long after—head injury with rapid blood loss is a bad combo. It's why I consider her a miracle. Because of the head injury, there's no telling when she would wake up. Could be days, weeks or months. All I can say right now is just to stay optimistic. If she pulled through during the surgery, then she can also hold on strong enough for this.

Mark stood behind Yuno, heart tearing itself apart as he wondered when you would wake up. It's hard to look at your face while it's marred with heavy bruises and scratches, but it's gut wrenching to do nothing but watch as you stayed asleep, your eyes closed, your mouth in a thin line. He was praying just as incessantly as Aeri was, but not as loud.

Only God knew just how hard his heart was praying for you to wake up—because he wanted those eyes to open and look at him as he begged for your forgiveness, as he promised to stick by your side no matter what after this. All you had to do was wake up.

prev | masterlist | next

A/N : my fingers are now officially broken!!!!

ooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

• taglist • [CLOSED]

@spiderm444rk @morkiee @xiuriii @solvrse @neozon3nha @herebyaccident0 @injunnie-lemon @mystverse @dearmonamour @v-6893 @sehunniepot @bee-the-loser @gomdoleemyson @luluvhs @sunghoonsgfreal @docilismo @neocrashed @soobinbunnie5 @cigarettesafterjae @dudekiss3r @kittydollzz @urlocalbeaner5 @polarisjisung @conwunder @wonupuppy @jae-n0 @413ktz @kimsaerom @meowtella @aerivrs @swanyvess @morkleesgirl @sthwaaberry @nominzn @grassbutneo @spicyryujin @koizekomi @sunflowerhae @markeroolee

[woso-dreamzzz]

Foster

Meadema x Teen!Reader

Summary: You're taken to a new home

You meet Beth and Viv two days after the new year begins.

Social services came around for the last time in the evening two days ago. They found you, curled up on the floor of your wardrobe, having locked it from the inside with a chain of interlocking hairbands.

Your father had been passed out on the landing and your mother was high out of her mind in the kitchen.

You got woken up, told to pack and taken away. You spend the night in your new social worker's office and then you're brought to their house.

Beth and Viv greet you at the door. You only know who they are because your social worker gave you the file before she dumped you here.

"Your room's pretty bare," Beth explains," We can go and get decorations if you want later today."

You survey the room. "It's fine."

It's more than fine. Your old room was a dirty old mattress that you're sure your uncle and cousins stole. Your wardrobe was second-hand and falling apart while your desk had different-sized legs and the accompanying chair didn't have a backrest so was functionally a stool.

"Are you sure?" Beth looks around the room. "We can get decorations. It's no problem."

"It's good," You confirm, placing your bin bag down on the bed (a bed with an actual bed frame!).

"Okay," Viv says," We'll let you unpack while we make lunch. Any allergies?"

You shake your head.

"We'll see you soon."

Unpacking is done embarrassingly quickly and you linger a bit longer to not look too pathetic in front of Beth and Viv. It's little more than twiddling your thumbs and staring at the clock on your bedside table.

You didn't have a bedside table at home so that's kind of nice. It's got drawers on it so you would be able to stash food in it if you needed to.

Beth and Viv seem like nice people but you can never be quite too sure. It's not your first rodeo in the foster system. Your parents cleaned up their act last time so there's a chance they'll do the same this time though, judging by the way your father was passed out on the stairs, you wouldn't be surprised if he ended up dead by alcohol poisoning.

You sigh softly as you get off the bed, stretching out your back in preparation before exiting the room.

"Hey," Viv says when she notices you lingering in the background," Lunch is ready if you want to sit."

You can't quite tell if she's just being nice or if this is an order. She looks a bit more stern than Beth does so you do what she says. Today's not the day to test boundaries.

She smiles though, when you sit down and slides you a plate. "I didn't know what you like so I just put on a bit of everything."

You look down at your plate and can't help the smile. She's made sure that everything's separate too, so nothing's touching and nothing will taint each piece of food.

"Thanks," You say softly, digging in. You don't know when they'll next give you a meal so it's better to gorge yourself now. You've got your hoard of food from your horse hidden in the drawers of your bedside table but you'll have to stock up soon because some of that stuff will be out of date very soon and you're not desperate enough to eat spoiled food just yet.

"Have you got a phone?" Beth asks.

You shake your head. You didn't even have wifi back home which really sucked when you were meant to do research for school.

"Here." She chucks a box at you with a smile.

You catch it out of the air and look at it. It's a phone. A brand new one by the looks of it.

You look at Beth and Viv in shock. Your previous foster parents had never given you things like this before. You'd gotten given a brick phone a few years ago when you were first separated from your parents but that had been flogged for drug money almost as soon as you got reunited.

"I..." You swallowed thickly to quell the tears you knew would spill down your cheeks sooner rather than later. "Thank you..."

"No problem," Beth says," Once you get it all set up, I can give you the Netflix password. There's a laptop coming too but we forgot to order it until last night. It should be here soon though, for your school work."

"Thank you..."

You feel a bit like a broken record, incapable of doing anything but repeating the same two words over and over again.

Viv smiles as well, sliding a bag of non-perishables at you. She doesn't say anything about it but you knew that she knew. You're not too sure how she knew but it must have been written in your file somewhere.

Your old social workers had noted a few times that you hoarded food like you were about to go into hibernation.

You like that Viv doesn't make a big deal out of it though. She just slides you the bag and nods.

You're oddly flattered and your opinion of Beth and Viv is cemented in your heart pretty quickly.

You just hope that they don't betray your trust because they're already shaping up to be the best set of foster parents you've ever had and all they're really doing is the bare minimum.

You glance around the house.

It looks nice. It's pretty cosy and warm.

You nod to yourself, looking down at the bag bashfully.

You think that you'll like it here.

[justsomerandomfanfic]

What Am I Going To Do With You? - Logan Howlett X GN Reader

Title: What Am I Going To Do With You?

Logan Howlett X GN Reader

Additional Characters: N/A

Requested by Anon!

WC: 4,438

Warnings: Death mentioned briefly, X-Men canon violence briefly mentioned, italics, cursing, unconsciousness?, alcohol (beer), very brief mentions of poisoning, yelling mentioned, nightmares mentioned, confessions, strangers to friends to lovers, nicknames, banter, teasing, flirting, slight suggestiveness, slight angst, and fluff

The snow was falling softly outside, and a few puffy flakes were already starting their journey into the ground of the forested land that surrounded your small cabin in Hunter, New York. The air was cold and biting with each puff of wind that blew across the open landscape. It was early in the morning, on a Friday, when you would usually go out and cut up some new firewood for the upcoming days. It was hard work, especially in such cold weather, but it ultimately kept you warm for a week or two before you'd have to chop up some more.

In your oversized, white coat, you gathered as much wood as you possibly could fit into your arms before setting off through the thick snow, back to your back door. Kicking and knocking your snow boats against the slightly raised threshold, you shook your hair out as you nudged the door closed with your hip. The snow that had landed softly in your hair began to instantly melt into its liquid form once the warm and comforting heat of your house hit you. Setting down the wood logs on the small wooden table by your wood-burning furnace; you stood up straight, back slightly aching as you did so. 

Upon looking at your wood pile, you worried on your bottom lip before deciding to go out for a couple more from the large stack you had up against the side of your cabin. You weren't entirely sure that you'd have enough, so it was best to grab more wood than you'd need. You didn't want to freeze to death during the rest of your winter, and you didn't want to go out into the freezing cold more than you'd have to. 

With a short glance at your still-steaming coffee on your dining room table, you let out a sigh before stepping back out into the cold. Stuffing your mittens together to keep them tight on your hands, you rubbed at your chill-to-the-bone nose before heading back around to the side of your cabin. But right as you turned the corner, you froze, not literally. There, lying slumped in the thick and deep snow was a man. He definitely wasn’t there when you went out to get the first load of logs. He didn't move, possibly unconscious... Or worse... Dead. You couldn't have a dead man on your property... It would only bring trouble. 

Hoping, praying that his man was still alive, you dragged your feet through the seven-inch snow, standing within inches from him, you dropped to your knees. Eyes wandering his large figure, you bit your lip; he was breathing, his back rising and falling slowly. This man wouldn't survive long, him facing down like that. Tearing off your gloves, you quickly pushed him over, groaning slightly from how heavy the man was. What did he eat? Rocks?

Once upon his back, you let out a short breath, a small foggy plume escaping your lips as you looked over him. You couldn't help but stare, completely entranced by the man's striking features. His face, although covered in bits of stubborn snow, was a rosy pink, with a dark beard, and brown-curly hair. And though he was unconscious, he looked at peace, even though he lay in the middle of the cold snow. He reminded you of someone, but you didn't know who... Your mind began racing as you racked your brain to figure out where he might have been coming from, why he was unconscious, and why he would be out and about in just jeans and a flannel button-up?

Feeling the biting tingling on your hands from the cold you blinked out of your thoughts. And as if on instinct, you stood back up, your knees aching in the process as you moved around to his head. Taking hold of his arms, you grunted lightly as you pushed him forward, in a sitting position. Once you were satisfied that you had him positioned as he needed to be, you began to drag him to your back door.

It took you a long time, but by the time you had gotten the unconscious - handsome - stranger inside, you were well out of breath. You had to take a moment, taking a moment to catch your breath and calm your heart rate as you stared down at the man lying on your wooden floor. Tossing your gloves onto one of your couches, you quickly tore off your winter coat, hanging it sharply on the hook near your front door. Turning back to the man, you placed both your hands on your hips, huffing lightly. 

"What am I going to do with you?" You asked, mostly to yourself as you ran your hands through your hair. “I can’t call the police… They’ll only bring trouble…”

Thinking that now would be the best time to lay him down somewhere more comfortable before he woke, you grabbed the man again and pulled him over to your other couch, closest to the fire that was burning. You thought it would be easier to lay on your other couch than your bed; lifting the man was already hard enough - him feeling like he weighed a million pounds - but lifting him as you have up the stairs... No way. 

Staring down at the man, you worried whether or not you should get him a change of clothes, but that would be impossible. You live a good couple of miles from the closest shops and you didn't have any clothes that would fit the man; who you guessed was around six-foot-something. But you didn't want him to catch his death, so a good couple of blankets would hopefully suffice. You didn't really know… You had hoped so. Grabbing the throw on the back of the other couch, you carefully tossed it over the man before grabbing the rest of the blankets you had around the cabin. 

Upon placing the last blanket down on him, you stopped. Finally, away from the cold air and snow, you began to see the redness in his cheeks fade away slightly, and only then did you have the chance to take a better look at his face. Now that there wasn't any snow in his hair, you let your eyes run over his handsome features, noticing all the little details. From the way his eyelashes curled delicately, his short, dark brown curls became more pronounced as his hair dried, and the way his tanned skin seemed to glow under the artificial light of your lamps and the fireplace; he even had barely-there freckles upon the apples of his cheeks. Your hand twitched with the urge to stroke his cheek,.. Nope. Bad idea, bad idea... Maybe... You paused to think. Yeah, to check if he had a fever, you could do that. 

Reaching out, you softly brushed some of the stray hairs from his forehead - in awe from how soft they were from just the brief brush - your mind searing into you that having this unknown man in your home was dangerous. He could be dangerous. He was tall, obviously strong; he could easily break you in two with those large hands of his, but you ignored it. Finally, you pressed the back of your hand on his forehead, only to sigh in relief. No fever. Quickly, you pulled your hand away, making sure that he was breathing once more before you headed to the kitchen, grabbing your coffee from the dining room table as you did so. Maybe you could make some soup, for you, and possibly for the man that was in your living room. 

~~~

It had been a couple of days since the mysterious man had come into your life. And for the past couple of days, that mysterious man was still unconscious. You had been doing your best to take care of him, not really knowing what to do; though you read up on the few First Aid and Nursing textbooks you had found three years ago at a thrift store, but never got around to reading. Sitting next to the fire, in your old rocking chair that you got for the amazing price of seven dollars, a book in your hand, you decided to catch up on some reading. As you rocked, turning page after page, you occasionally looked up to make sure that he was still breathing, in turn, not fully paying attention to the words on the page. Looking over to the clock on the wall, you let out a sigh before standing and setting down your book on the rocking chair seat; the book was a bit boring anyway. 

Walking over, you sat on the ground beside the couch. Resting on your knees, you stared at the man, your mind wandering. Who was he? He looked so familiar. Like you had known him or had seen him before. But you hadn’t been out and about in - quote on quote - ‘the real world’ for years. You had been sort of living off the grid for the past couple of years. 

Reaching out, you went to feel his forehead for a fever again when his hand suddenly reached up, gripping your wrist. You gasped, eyes widening as you watched the man's eyes open, a small but gruff groan reverberating from his well-built chest. Slowly, he sat up, bringing your wrist with him, tightening his grasp slightly as he stared down at you with hard, dark brown eyes. You couldn't look away, both scared and lost in those eyes that were locked onto yours.

"Wha' happened?" He rasped, his voice rough and hoarse, "Who are you?"

You swallowed down your spit, trying not to let the nervous feeling overwhelm you. "Uh, I'm Y/N... Uh, I found you outside my cabin, unconscious." You spoke in a hushed tone, your voice quiet as you stared up at the man with wide eyes.

The man stared at you, his brows furrowing as he tilted his head slightly, clearly confused though he never dropped his slightly threatening demeanor. "Where am I?"

"You're- You're in my cabin... In, uh, Hunter, New York." You answered as you glanced from his dark eyes to his hand on your wrist, "Uh, could you please let go of me?"

His own eyes snapped to his hand, tightly wrapped around your wrist before quickly dropping your hand. Without another word, he stood, the pile of blankets falling to the side as he made his way quickly to the closet door. Staggering to your feet, you made your way to him, grabbing his flannel sleeve without really thinking. 

"Wait! You can't go back out there! It's freezing!" You exclaimed, his eyes staring down at your hand sharply before meeting your worried gaze once more.

"It don't bother me." He spoke, voice deep, sounding irritated, "I don't care 'bout no damn weather." 

"But you have no jacket, gloves, or hat... Or- Or anything! You'll catch your death out there!" At that, the man clicked his tongue, pulling his arm from your grasp, "Besides, the nearest town is miles away. Fifteen to be exact. You won't be able to make it. Especially after being unconscious for five days!" The man said nothing, walking the rest of his way to the front door, his large hand grabbing the door handle. Becoming slightly irritated, you grabbed his arm again, using enough strength to turn him towards you a little. "Listen here. It's freezing out, you just woke from some sort of small coma-like sleep thing, haven't drunk or eaten anything, and you expect me to just let you leave?" You growled, tightening your grip slightly, "At least stay a couple more days until the storm calms down. I have soup on the stove and a few drinking options in my fridge. Though, if you have a death wish, by all means, I can’t stop you, go on out there."

You stared up at the man as he stared down at you, his eyes moving around your face before he huffed, "Got any beer?"

"Beer?" You asked, slightly deadpanned, as the man looked back down at you and nodded, "Yeah... Uh, yeah, I got beer. Uh, just follow me, please." Breaking away, you turned and made your way to your kitchen, the sound of the man's heavy footsteps following close behind you. Reaching the stove, you grabbed a bowl from the cupboard before grabbing the large spoon and pouring a bit of mashed potato and onion soup into the bowl. Turning to the fridge, you grabbed one of the Coronas you had next to your hard lemonades before shutting the door with your hip. 

Turning, you found the man sitting on the stool, his lower arms resting on your counter. Clearing your throat, you set the beer and bowl of soup down before him before you grabbed your own soup. "Thanks," You heard him mutter slightly as you turned your back. 

Leaning against the corner of the counter, you stirred your soup around with a spoon, feeling very awkward. Glancing over as the man took a long sip of his beer, you spoke up once more. "Uh, may I know your name?" You asked, watching as he froze, spoon halfway to his mouth, "I mean, it's only fair. You know my name, and I've most likely saved your life and all. Nasty storm."

The man took another sip before setting the glass bottle aside, running his hand through his hair before glancing over at you, "... I'm Logan."

"Logan..." You repeated the name slowly, testing it out, "Well... What were you doing in my woods before you fell unconscious?" You asked, raising an eyebrow.

Logan shrugged, glancing away at the picture of a moose on your wall before taking another sip of his beer. Silence followed the question and you wondered why he hadn't answered. What was he hiding? Was he even hiding anything? Could he even remember? What did he know? What did he know about you?

"You live 'ere?" He suddenly asked, making you pause eating this time.

"Of course I do. What kind of question is that?" You asked, looking up at the man once more with an eyebrow raised before pushing off of the counter and tossing your empty bowl in the sink. You quickly rushed away from the kitchen, Logan watching you as you grabbed your winter coat from the hook and shrugged it on.

"Where ya goin'?" He asked as you slid on your gloves and grabbed your old messenger bag.

"Out to grab more wood for my furnace and fireplace." You answered simply. "It'll take a bit. So, if you're not here when I get back, I'll understand. But you should at least stay until the snow dies down and I can get you a ride into town."

Logan pursed his lips, finishing off his beer before speaking, "'nd ya think ya can trust me? Some stranger?" He asked as you made your way to the back door, shuffling your boots on.

You paused at the back door, hand on the door handle, "Yeah. I can trust you." You said confidently before turning to look at the burly man with a slight grin, "There's more beer in the fridge if you want it, and water too if you're still thirsty."

And with that, you opened and shut the door behind you, a waft of cold air hitting you in the face before you started walking along the thick snow to the side of your cabin.

~~~

"Logan! Could you help me in the kitchen for a moment!?" You called out aimlessly in the cabin from the said kitchen, hands covered in dough and flour.

Needing the dough, you smiled as you heard the familiar heavy footsteps make their way to you. Logan huffed, pulling his hands from his jeans pockets as he made his way over. "Wha' do ya need me fo'?" He grumbled, leaning against the counter. 

You rolled your eyes playfully, gesturing to the bag of flour on the counter beside the both of you, "Could you pour me some of that? I miscalculated how much I was going to need."

Logan grunted, grabbing the bag and dumping a small pile onto the dough, "That good?" He asked and you smiled with a nod.

"Yep! Perfect, thank you, Lo." You replied, smiling up at him as he stepped back, eyeing you curiously.

"What're ya makin'?" Logan asked, peering over your shoulder at what you were doing.

You grinned lightly, "Pie dough." You stated, glancing up at him.

"Pie dough?" He asked, "What kind of pie?"

"Cherry."

He stared at you, his eyebrows furrowed. "No kiddin'?"

"Yup." You giggled, grinning brightly at the man. "Didn't I tell you about it last night?"

Logan shook his head, "Nah, ya didn't mention it. Didn't say a thin'."

"Well," You began, "I'm making cherry pie. It'll be ready for dessert tonight. Just have to make it, bake it, and give it enough time to cool down a bit." You glanced up at him before finishing, "Wanna help me with this?"

Logan huffed, "I don't know… I ain’t good at bakin’." He began, watching as you tried to blow a couple of stray hairs from your face, "I was goin' to go out and get more wood for the fire." He answered, bringing his hand up to brush the stubborn hairs away from your face and behind your ear, making your face heat up as you smiled sheepishly up at him.

"We already have enough firewood in here to last us a few more days, Lo." You laughed out, looking back down at the dough on the counter.

"Fine. But ya owe me a beer," Logan answered, pouring a bit more flour over your dough before you could ask him to do it "And an extra slice of the pie." 

Your smile widened, chuckling lightly, "It's not like you take the beer anyway." You teased as Logan scoffed softly, rolling his eyes. "But, you may have an extra piece, maybe three pieces, since you're helping me and all."

"Fine by me," Logan muttered, "Whaddya want me to do?"

"Oh, uh, could you cut me up some of those cherries, and make sure the pits are out of them? Cherry pits have amygdalin."

“Amy-wha’ now?” Logan asked, walking over to the fridge and grabbing a beer.

“Amygdalin.” You corrected, “It’s what’s in cherry pits. Our body converts it into cyanide.” You answered as Logan took in what you were saying, his lips just pressed onto the glass rim of the beer bottle as he paused.

Logan hummed deeply before finally taking a sip of his drink, grabbing the see-through bag of pre-washed cherries with one hand. Glancing over at him briefly, you couldn't help but smile. It had been a little over a month since you found Logan in the snow. And the past month had been pretty amazing. After the initial awkwardness passed, Logan became really nice to talk to and even began to become a little fun to be around, though he was still quiet and kept to himself for the most part.

The only thing that ever seemed to truly change was when he would wake up in the middle of the night screaming from inside his guest bedroom. The first time it happened, you had rushed over to his room across from yours and came face to face with a set of claws. He didn't hurt you, but he apologized to you as if he did. He didn't really talk to you much after the first nightmare, and it took you a mighty long time to get him to open back up to you again. Though he was rather stubborn, so were you, and with a lot of reassurance, you finally cracked him out of his shell enough for him not to run away into the snowstorm. And after a long conversation by the fire, and with warm coffee filling your stomachs, you finally got some of his story. 

And though you feared that he was going to leave you, Logan stayed.

And the longer he stayed, the more you began to fall for him. Under that gruff exterior, Logan was actually a softie. A sarcastic, sarcastic, softie. It was one of the many things you loved about him. And you were sure that he might've felt the same, or at least something close to it. From lingering glances and the less-than-accidental touches, he was certainly getting close to you, or closer than he usually let himself get to anyone. He had thought about leaving, in the middle of the night, or in the early morning before you woke up. But if Logan had left, he would’ve felt guilty, leaving you all alone, only for you to wake up and not find him there. That tension was there. And that fear of accidentally hurting you was still there. And it scared him. It scared him at how close he was actually getting to you.

"Bub," Logan called out, making you jump slightly and look up at him as you snapped out of your daydreaming. Logan stared down at you, his eyes narrowed slightly, "Are ya okay?"

You nodded slightly, wiping the flour off the best you could before going over to wash them in the sink, "Yeah, I'm fine. Just lost in thought."

Logan watched you carefully, "What 'bout?" He asked and you tilted your head slightly as you thought.

"Hmm… Nothing really... Uh, it happens when I bake." You mutter sheepishly, reaching out for the dish towel on the oven handle only to find it right in front of your face, in Logan's hand. Giving him a thankful smile, you take the small towel, drying your hands off. "Thank you, Logan. Are those cherries ready?" You asked, looking over past his figure to take a look at the cherries he directed for the pie.

"They're ready," He answered, grabbing your attention again, "There's somethin' buzzin' around in that pretty head of yours."

"Hm?" You hummed, raising a brow curiously. "Somethin’ buzzin’ around?" You repeated questioningly with a smile.

Logan chuckled dryly, stepping closer to you, smirking, "Don't play coy with me, Y/N. Whatcha thinkin' 'bout?"

You flushed lightly, biting your bottom lip and shifting your weight uncomfortably under his gaze. Your heart fluttered lightly at his closeness. He looked so gorgeous today. Hair all clean from a fresh shower, washed-out jeans, and in his new flannel that you bought him. And that look upon his face, eyes narrowed playfully, filled with mirth; the chocolate brown speckled with hints of green. And that grin, encompassed by his freshly-trimmed beard. Why did he have to be so handsome... And smell so nice? And how did he shape his hair in that way, all cute and pointy? It truly fascinated you. 

"Uhhhh," You stammered intelligently, unsure of whether you should answer him. Or just keep thinking. Yeah, thinking sounded nice. Suddenly, you felt Logan's hands on either side of your body, your hands instinctively coming up to latch onto Logan's shoulders as he picked you up and onto the flour-free counter. "Logan..." You breathed out in slight shock and surprise. His hands wrapped around your waist, standing between your knees.

"If ya don't wanna talk, ya don't have to." He murmured lowly, his dark eyes scanning your features, making you shift in your seat slightly under his intense gaze. “I ain’t gonna force you to talk if ya don’t wan’ to.”

"And let me guess, it'll help if I talk about it?" You questioned with a chuckle, shaking your head slowly.

"It might." He answered confidently, nonchalantly.

You gave him a look, crossing your arms over your chest, "And what if I was just daydreaming? Is it so wrong to daydream?" Unable to stop the corners of your lips from twitching.

"Depends. Do ya daydream 'bout me?" Logan asked in response and you sighed exasperatedly, shrugging your shoulders slightly.

"Do I daydream about you, Lo?" You asked yourself as if you were thinking it over. "I don't know. What would you think if I did?" You then asked, gaining the courage to make eye contact. 

Logan raised a brow, his grin widening. "I'd be flattered, bub." He answered, as he watched you roll your eyes playfully.

"You would." You agreed, giving him a teasing grin.

"I probably would tease ya a bit." He continued, "Daydreamin' 'bout me and all."

"You would." You repeated, lowering your voice slightly with slight annoyance, glancing off to the side, right at your unfinished pie. You really needed to finish that pie… Maybe in the end you’d have enough leftover dough for smaller pies… That’d be cute…

"I'd probably kiss ya." Logan then said.

"You would-" You paused, blinking before turning to look up at him, eyes wide and face flushed. "Wait, what?" You asked, a confused look forming on your face. Did he really say what you thought he said..?

Logan's smirk dwindled, "Do you not want me to?" He asked, and you quickly responded by shaking your head.

"No! I mean, yes! I mean... Um…" You trailed off, trying to think of a way out of this embarrassing mess. "Um… I'd kinda… Like that…" You mumbled the last part, trying to hide how embarrassed you suddenly felt. You never expected him to say anything like that.

"Really?" Logan said, seeming genuinely surprised as he watched you nod. 

"Yup." You replied quickly, hoping that he wouldn't hear the faint squeak in your voice.

"You sure, bub?" He questioned. "Because, if this is gonna make you uncomf-"

Rolling your eyes, you uncrossed your arms, "Oh, shut up and kiss me, Logan." You growled, grabbing the collar of his flannel, and pulling him towards you, pressing your lips harshly against his own, making him pause for a moment before kissing back. Your hands went from his collar to tangled in his hair, tugging gently, while his grip on your hips tightened slightly. His fingers slid a bit under the hem of your shirt, burning against the small portion of your cool skin that he had found at your waist. After a few moments, you pulled back, panting slightly. "You taste like cherries." You muttered breathlessly.

"I may have snuck some when ya weren't lookin’." He grinned a toothy grin, looking down at you mischievously.

You chuckled slightly. "What am I going to do with you?" You commented, feeling his warm fingers brush through your hair as they rested on the nape of your neck before he leaned forward, capturing your lips once more.

---

Main Masterlist | X-Men Masterlist

[fandom-smutty-shots]

Logan Howlett X Reader: Damaged Goods (Smut)

Summary: Reader is drinking away her problems with she's approached by a man who takes her home and puts her to bed. He makes her feel better the next morning.

Warnings: smut and angst! Starts off very angsty, but does turn to smut. Oral(f receiving), fingering, penetration(p in v), overstimulation, praise kink if you squint, choking.

Word Count: 3.0k

~

"Another of each please!" you slurred to the bartender, your glass empty yet again. You could barely remember why you came here in the first place, maybe if you just drank a little more the pain would finally go away.

The woman gave you a look before pouring up another shot glass and another drink. You greedily took both, taking the shot quickly and chasing it with a sip of your double.

"Y'know kid, you drink an awful lot."

You turn around with a frown, holding your drink protectively in your hand. "And how would you know that?"

"I come here every night. You've been here every night in the last week, and you nearly go home on a stretcher every time." The man chuckles at this, taking the stool next to you and ordering for himself.

"So you drink just as much as me then!" you shot back, barely able to hold a conversation you were so far gone.

"I can't ever get drunk," the man smirks. "Unlike you, princess."

"Said every alcoholic ever." You take a few quick sips in rapid succession. "Why are you sitting next to me?"

"I just wanna know what went so wrong in your life that you're here, gettin' wasted to forget."

You froze, your cheeks heating up. "Well I wouldn't be doing a very good job at being wasted-" you pause, your stomach feeling funny. "If I remembered why I was here, now would I?"

"You okay? You look a little..." the man trailed off, frowning as you hopped up and made a run for the washroom.

You regretted that last shot, it was finally your breaking point for the night. You scrambled over the toilet and heaved up everything you had drank that night, tears falling down your face as you sat above the bowl and tried to calm down.

You closed your eyes for a second, and the next thing you knew, someone was kicking you awake.

"What the fuck?" You mumbled, glancing up through your hazy vision to see the man who had approached you earlier.

"Been in here a while. Wanted to make sure you weren't dead." The man bent down and examined you, a scowl across his features. "You have vomit in your hair. And on your face."

You wished you could bring yourself to care, but you just laughed. Maybe if you drank enough you'd get alcohol poisoning.

The man unrolled some toilet paper and began cleaning you up, ignoring your protests to leave you alone.

"Come on kid, I'll take you home," the man said with a sigh.

"I can't go home like this," you mumbled in response. "I'll just sleep it off in my car, it's parked up the road."

The man glared down at you. "Why, got a boyfriend waiting?"

You gave a bitter laugh. "Not anymore. Just an overbearing mother I had to move back in with so I wouldn't be homeless."

You had left your boyfriend a week ago, officially. He was the worst of the worst, always beating you around and controlling you and sleeping with other women. But men like his were what you deserved.

"How about you come back to my place?" The man suddenly asked, helping you to your feet with a steadying arm around your waist.

"Oh, so you can take advantage of the pretty, drunk girl?" You snarled, trying to get out of his iron grasp.

"I'd never lay a finger on someone as drunk as you." The man almost sounded... offended. "I just don't like the thought of... anyone staying in their car for the night. And you look like you need a helping hand right now."

You think for a moment before nodding in agreement. Honestly, the man was handsome. You wouldn't mind if he took advantage of you, not that you would tell him that.

"Name's Logan." He lead you out through the bar, stopping to pay your tab and get your card back before bringing you outside in the frigid air. You shivered, only wearing a tight-fitting dress and heels, the bitter cold getting to you. Logan must have noticed, because he took off the jacket he was wearing and helped you into it. You were basically swimming in all the extra fabric.

"Thanks," you mutter as he literally picks you up and tosses you in his truck, buckling up your seatbelt for you. You noticed he doesn't do the same for himself as he starts the ignition and backs out of the parking spot.

The drive was short, and Logan helped you into a small house somewhat on the edges of town. Although your entire town was pretty small, to be fair. He kept checking on you as he helped you into the house, bringing you to the bathroom.

"Wash your hair off in there," he commanded, leaving you with just a towel. You were starting to like the way he was bossing you around. Or maybe you were just drunk. Either way, once you were alone, you stripped down and staggered into the bathtub, sitting down in the warm heat of the running water and letting it wash everything away.

You felt tears spill down your cheeks as you realized you were accepting a stranger's help. You didn't belong here, not with someone who was being so kind. You weren't the kind of girl men bring home for anything besides a quickie. A quiet sob left your mouth, then another, until you heard a knock at the door.

"Y'okay? I can hear you in there," Logan called out.

He could hear you crying? You didn't think you had been that loud. "I'm fine," you called back, wiping your face and turning off the water. You wrapped yourself in the towel and opened the bathroom door to find him waiting for you.

Logan paused for a second, his eyes clearly looking you up and down. "C'mon. You can take my bed, I'll stay on the couch."

You started to protest but he would hear none of it. He lead you to his bedroom, shut the door and called out to have a good sleep. You didn't even try to dry your hair before you let the towel slip down and clamored into the soft sheets, darkness taking over.

***

Your eyes fluttered open slowly, your head pounding from the night before. You glanced around, panicking for a moment as to where you were. When you spotted the glass of water on the nightstand, you remembered the stranger from last night.

"Logan?" You called out, swinging your legs over the bed and letting the sheets fall down.

He came through the door within a second, but froze at the sight of you, his eyes raking up and down your body. You glanced down and realized you were naked. Your face heated up with embarrassment and you grabbed the sheets frantically to cover up, which earned you a chuckle.

"I've seen plenty of women wake up in my bed," Logan smirked, "and not one of them has tried to cover up."

Your entire face must have been red. This man had cleaned the vomit off your face last night, you certainly didn't think he was interested in you now. "Yeah well you don't exactly want to sleep with me."

Logan cocked his eyebrow at that. "Now where did you get that idea?" He stalked towards you, the muscles and veins that ran through his arms impossible to ignore. "I'd love to stick my face between your legs and show you a good time. I just don't fuck drunk girls when I'm sober."

Your head actually began to spin as he spoke, his husky voice bringing out a side of you that you hadn't felt in a long while. You felt your core heat up in anticipation of him getting closer.

He dropped down so both of his arms were on the bed, one brushing against each thigh. He looked you dead in the eyes, "and I can smell that you want me too."

"You can- what?" You stuttered, humiliated that you were so horny a man could smell it on you. To be fair, only a thin sheet stood between Logan and your heat.

"How 'bout this princess," he tugged at the sheet with such force that it slipped out of your hands and revealed you to him. "I'll give you the best fuck of your life, and then you tell me why you were drinking all alone again."

"The best? That's a big promise." Your breathing was shallow and you felt your heart race as his hot breath was in your face.

"And if I don't deliver, you don't have to either." Logan gripped your thighs with an iron grip and pulled you to the edge of the bed. You gasped as he held your legs in place on his shoulders and began kissing the skin on your inner thigh. His beard brushed along with his tongue as he swirled patterns closer and closer to where you needed him.

You could feel yourself getting desperate, unwillingly bucking into him to try and force his tongue where you wanted it.

"Patience, princess," Logan mumbled into your skin before holding your hips down with such force you were sure he'd leave bruises. Despite your attempts to move, he was too strong. You were stuck.

After what felt like a lifetime of teasing, he finally placed a kiss on your clit, his hot breath steady against your needy bud.

"Oh fuck," you moaned at the simple gesture, and he chuckled.

"Someone hasn't been touched properly in a while," he teased, moving his tongue to the bottom of your slit to lap up whatever had already come out. "You're soaking, and I've barely started. This'll be easy."

Without warning he latched on, licking and swirling and sucking on your clit, exactly where you needed him. Your upper body shot up from the bed with a high pitched moan as you desperately grabbed at his his, pulling him closer with every bit of strength you had. You wrapped your legs around his neck, delirious with need already.

"That's a good girl," Logan mumbled into your heat, stopping only for a second before going back to torturing you with pleasure. It was like nothing you had ever felt before. He never came up for air, he never let up his relentless pace.

You felt your orgasm start to build in your tummy and the pleasure intensified. You felt your limbs release him as you clutched for anything around you to ground you again, your vision black as you threw your head back and your legs stuck straight out.

Just as you were about to finish, he pulled away, crawling up your body slowly to meet your eyes. The entire lower half of his face was covered in your juice, and you felt a tear slip out of your eye as the orgasm went away.

"Now I can't have you coming that early," Logan said, his hand going to wipe away your wet tear. "Just relax sweetheart, I'll take care of you." He kissed your lips, his tongue demanding entrance to explore your mouth. You eagerly let him, your hands running up and down his arms, feeling every bit of pure muscle this man was.

His hand made it's way down your body, stopping to play with your nipples for only a second before reaching your wet cunt. "Beg me for it," he commanded, his fingers touching your thighs as he waited.

"Please, please Logan, please let me cum, please please please make me cum-" you cut yourself off with a moan as you felt him plunge a finger inside, finding your spot within seconds.

"There's a good girl," he said, his thick finger slowly massaging your insides. Your arms wrapped around his neck this time, wanting to be as close as possible as he brought you to your edge again. "Just relax, I'm gonna stretch you out for me."

You whimpered as he slid his finger out to add another, this time his thumb toying with your clit as he finger-fucked you. You felt full from his fingers alone, the sounds coming out of you barely even human anymore as you tried to beg for him to let you finish between moans.

Before you knew what was happening, he shot down again, replacing his thumb with his skilled tongue. It took you maybe ten seconds to build up your orgasm again, the overwhelming pleasure taking over your body. "Oh god!" You screamed, your entire body trembling, "please let me cum!"

He drove you over the edge, your orgasm washing over you like a fucking tsunami. You swore and screamed and lost control completely, shaking with pleasure as you finished on his hand.

"That's a good girl, coming so hard for me. And I haven't even fucked you yet... poor girl, you think you can really handle me?" Logan purred praises into your ear, letting you ride his fingers through your wave before finally slowing down and pulling out. "We can stop here if you're afraid, princess."

You shook your head, wanting more, wanting to cum around his dick as he fucked all the pain away. You couldn't even remember how you got here, you just knew you needed more.

You barely noticed Logan unbuckle his belt and pull down his jeans before you felt his thick cock line up against your entrance.

"Ready sweetheart?" He asked, one knee on the bed and the other leg bracing him against the floor. He rubbed your hair with his free hand, peppering kisses all over your cheek and neck. You nodded, and then you felt it.

You're pretty sure you screamed as he forced himself in with a grunt, the pain overwhelming as it felt like he was splitting you apart.

"Just relax, relax in my arms," once he was in, he used that hand to gently rub your clit, easing some of the pain, the other hand still comforting your face. "Just give it a second sweet girl."

After a minute the pain eased into a comfortable throbbing, the feeling of being completely full something you'd never had before. You bucked your hips, gasping as it felt good inside you. Your hand flew up to grab his, interlocking your fingers together. He quickly tried to pull away but you whimpered, so he kept it there to comfort you, despite the worried look on his face as he glanced at his hand.

Logan began slow, barely moving as you got used to the feeling. He speed up once you started bucking against him, demanding more. With a smirk, he pulled almost all the way out before pounding into you with inhuman strength, making you scream and squeeze his hand. "Oh fuck!" You could hear yourself as he continued to fuck you, the sheer size of him making you delirious.

"Is that how you like it, princess? You want it so hard you can't breathe?" Logan growled into your ear as he pounded harder and harder, faster as you adjusted to his size. You reached down for his other hand, moving it to your neck and giving him a pleading look. He understood and wrapped his fingers around you, squeezing gently.

You were pretty sure the entire world stopped as everything faded away. You focused on breathing, and how your free hand clutched his muscled arm, holding on for life as he fucked you. Despite your whining for him to hold your hand, he released you and moved it down to your clit, drawing sloppy circles that made you cry out.

Your orgasm built fast, the feeling of his thick cock mixed with your sensitive bud being stimulated being more than enough to drive you over. You came on his dick with a strangled scream, clawing at his arm for some kind of stability. Logan released your neck and kissed you, grabbing your wrists with one hand and pinning them above your head.

"I'm almost there princess," he said into your ear, his voice soothing. "Just hold on a little longer for me."

You could barely remember the next while, tears streaming down your face as you tried your best to handle it. It felt amazing, but you were overstimulated and just wanted to roll over and be held.

Finally, with a grunt, Logan pulled out and pumped his cock a few more times, before finally releasing his cum onto your belly and staggering to his feet, leaving you cold on the bed.

You needed him to hold you, to make you feel better, but instead he walked away, leaving you naked and alone on his bed.

You let out a sob, and you heard Logan quickly return to you.

"Hey, I'm right here. Just needed a towel," Logan said, his tone gentle. He wiped off your stomach, followed by drying between your legs, and finally wiped himself off before discarding the towel on the floor and picking you up in his arms like you were nothing.

He threw you to the middle of the bed, your head on the pillows this time, and crawled in after you, hugging you into his warm build and rubbing circles up and down your side.

"Now it's your turn," Logan whispered, his voice sending shivers down your spine. "Why are you in that bar every night, all alone?"

You were glad he couldn't see your face when you answered. "You don't wanna know my story. I'm just damaged goods."

Logan laughed. He actually laughed at you. "Trust me, princess, I know damaged goods when I see it. And you've got nothing on most of the people I know." He flexed his hand in front of you. "Don't touch me for a second," he warned, before suddenly silver claws flashed out of his knuckles.

You froze, realization hitting you. "You're Wolverine," you breathed, reaching out to examine one of the blades. He snapped them back in as quickly as they came out, the bloodied spot they had left healing in seconds.

"In another life," Logan answered. "Now I'm just Logan."

[ollieink]

𝐁𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐃!

childe x fem!reader ( wc 4.8k)

inspired by 'pretty poison' written by the very talented vent1k1n on ao3, literally so good. never thought strip russian roulette could be so smeggsy wtf.

𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄𝐒 | dead dove: do not eat, non-con, rough sex, size difference, bit of gunplay, spitting, forced orgasm, corruption, yandere undertones, threats of murder, childe is a menace, reader has a petite body, dash of angst, russian roulette, mafia alternate universe, betrayal, please don't read if you're not comfy with these themes.

"Tartaglia is heartless."

That's what papa's soldiers said after he asked for your hand in marriage. It was a way for both ruling families to finally come to terms. Some were against it, others hopeful. And you had to admit, Tartaglia was hypnotizing. You saw him from afar one time, two times, a couple of times—from across the bridge that separated papa’s territory from his. He was the ocean come alive, all the good and all the bad. When he crossed that bridge to meet you, everything people warned you about him burnt to the ground.

Your chest fluttered on the wedding night, but it wasn't what you thought or hoped it would be. Tartaglia merely wished you a good rest before departing to his room. Of course, this wasn't a marriage of love ( you'd gotten carried away in your fantasies ), but rather a strategic move on both mafia families. Even then, the painful sprout of thorns in your chest didn't go unnoticed. Maybe it did for him. Or perhaps he did notice and just didn't care.

Papa didn't want you seeing all the bad things he did, so violence was a thing that happened from a distance. It was the same with Tartaglia. He'd tell you to go to your room when his men came in for a meeting, reassure you everything was okay—that you didn't need to worry your pretty head off. Perhaps he truly cared about you ( even if it wasn't the starstruck love you hoped it to be ), and that fleeting period in your life was the happiest. That is until you peeked into the basement of his manor, and a pair of dead blue eyes looked back.

You’re not supposed to cry over a stupid boy.

The sky has given way for a thunderous storm. Loud cracks of thunder light up the city, matching your heart's ferocious churning as you think over and over again: why, why, why? It pours rain as you pound on various doors for refuge, but everyone knows better than to open them at this hour. Crossing the bridge is a death sentence; Tartaglia’s men are stationed there, and they'd surely capture you on sight.

Afraid that he’ll catch up, you run into the city’s emptiest corner—an unsuspecting alleyway where the city lights can't reach. There’s nothing but rubbish here: overflowing dumpsters, shattered alcohol bottles someone must've thrown in a drunk daze, vulgar graffiti on the walls. Buildings tower overhead, placed so close together only a few people can walk through at the same time. The path winds 'round and 'round. You aren't sure where you're going, as long as you get away from here.

More lightning cuts through the pouring sky, and amidst it, a sweet voice calls out for you.

“Darling~”

All the hairs on your body stand, and you run faster than ever before. He's still using that sickening term, as if you really do hold a special place in his heart. Even if it wasn't real, you were content being something he felt obligated to take care of—because you couldn't help the way your heart fluttered when his hand tightened over yours, how he looked standing bare feet in the ocean shoreline. And you were happy being just an afterthought to him. But this is too cruel for you.

"Come back to me, darling. I'm sorry if I scared you."

His footsteps are getting closer and closer.

The alley takes a quick turn, and what you see next crushes all hope of getting away. A wall.

No, no no no no.

There must be another way out, but everywhere you look is a dead end. When the heavy footsteps finally stop a few meters away, you turn around. With a violent crackle of thunder, light briefly fills the alley; it barely makes a dent in Ajax's dark blue eyes. The electric crashes through the sky reflect off the taut muscles—wet with rain—on his arms. His black shirt, soaked all the way through, clings tightly to indents of hard flesh on his torso. And a smile haunts his face, kind like you remember.

"Why are you running away from me?" Ajax takes a step closer and reaches out a tempting hand. It's his left one, and the two rings on it are evidence of your weak union. "Let's go home, my love." He beckons in that familiar, gentle tone he only used with you. It made you feel special, but now you know it's just a trick.

“Bastard!” You scream with all the broken pieces of your heart. “You were just using me! I saw what you did to my father’s men in your basement, what you said about killing me! It’s a low move, you know—to murder someone in their sleep.”

Your words stir a devilish grin from him, and all traces of sweet, sweet Ajax disappear in an instant. "Ah, so you heard that too." He steps closer again, and the cobblestone wall hits your back. "It's a shame, ya know. If you weren't so nosy, I would've let you alive for a bit longer. Maybe we could've had our first kiss on the lips too, hmm? Bet you would've liked that. I know I would—you were always so kind to me. A bit too kind."

"Get away from me! If papa finds out about this, he'll kill you!" you scowl, hoping to get some leverage over this situation. But Tartgalia is a proud man. He simply laughs, as if you're a child throwing a silly tantrum.

"Well, he isn't here right now is he? It's just you and me." As his hand lifts, a flash of lightning exposes a revolver nestled against his palm.

"Ajax. . . ?"

Even his name sounds unfamiliar. The remaining bits and pieces of your heart break, not instantly, but in a way that hurts much more—slow and agonizing, holding onto hope that you know doesn't exist.

Blue eyes sweep up your body, savoring your disheveled appearance under this stormy night. Your plush thighs look so squeezable, and oh, that teeny tiny waist that's just begging to be held down.

“Let’s play a little game. It'll be fun."

Despite his voice sounding playful, the cold smile twisting his mouth wrecks shivers through you. He opens the gun to reveal six bullets settled ominously inside. “Each piece of clothing you take off, I’ll get rid one bullet. You have ten minutes before I pull the trigger, darling. Let's see if you're alive then. And if you are, I'll let you go. Promise." He chuckles at the way your eyes widen fearfully; it’s just too adorable. “Go on, I’m waiting.”

There's no way you're going to listen to him. He already messed with you enough—from the wedding vows, the delicate cheek kisses, and late-night strolls along the beach. All of it was just a pretend game for him, and the thought boils your blood just as much as it hurts.

“That game's stupid. I’m not doing anything for you."

“So, you’re gonna play tough, eh?” Tartaglia hums, unbothered by your disobliging attitude. In fact, the smirk on his face gives you the impression that he enjoys it. He points the revolver aside, and with a spark, fires it. A shrill noise reverberates through the cramped alleyway, and you jolt as the bullet whizzes past your cheek. “I won’t miss next time.”

Angry tears sting the corner of your eyes. “You’re fucking disgusting."

"You have ten minutes, sweetie. Or would you rather just let me end it all for you right now? I promise it won't hurt." There's a slight pause, then Childe's grin widens even more. "Or perhaps you want to spend your last moments as husband and wife? I know we never got the chance to be really intimate."

He'll shoot you if you try to run. For a split second, you consider trying to reason with him. Maybe he really did feel something—even if it was the most empty-minded feeling that ever crossed his cold heart. But that hopeful thought quickly vanishes. Ajax doesn't exist. He never did.

Finally, with a long exhale, you hesitatingly begin to slip off one heel.

“Mmm, good girl.” He takes out one bullet, letting it clang against the floor and roll by your feet. His gaze feels sharp along, glued to every movement, every nook and cranny of your exposed skin. When you get the other heel off, Childe hums cheerfully and drops another bullet. Papa always told you to be brave, but you’re shaking uncontrollably under this heavy aura of death. Your fingers tremble as they loosen your dress, and when the ribbons slowly but surely come undone, all the silk cascades into a bundle of light pink. A slight sigh comes from Childe the moment your adorable, white undergarments are revealed—so untouched, so innocent. Your skin suddenly feels too uncomfortably tight under his heavily inspecting eyes.

Childe chuckles as you hug yourself ( to cover up and protect yourself from the stormy weather ). Seeing you like that—all vulnerable and small—it's just too cute. He lets go of another bullet, and it lands with a sharp ting.

"Come on, take it all off," he playfully orders.

It's a decision between pride or life—an easy option for most, but difficult when it ends up in your hands. "Go fuck yourself." When you make no effort to strip any more, merely scowling at him with dewy eyes, the blue-eyed man breaks into wild laughter.

“You’d rather die than let me see you naked? Ah, how cute, but. . .” He closes the metal cartridge, spins it, then lifts the gun back up to you. “I’d think twice if I were you.”

"If you lay a finger on me, papa won't let you get away!" you glare at him, but all it does is stir a snicker. Suddenly, Childe steps forward and kicks your knee out. You hit the floor coarse with wet dirt. “Hey—!” Tartaglia wastes no time listening to your protest. He carelessly turns you over with his shoe, then presses the underside of it onto your stomach—a sharp contrast to the way he always treated you like glass. It was that side of him you learned to love, not the heartless man everyone viewed him as. Perhaps if you'd been smarter, you would've seen right through him. How love is but a fool's game to him. And how it was always his plan to use you.

A flash of thunder lights up the sky behind him, and the rain falls harder.

Your face contorts with rage. “Fuck you!"

“Quite the dirty mouth for such a sweet girl," Childe coos, kneeling down to harshly grab your chin. "Haha, you look so cute when your cheeks are all pushed up like that."

He leans in, and suddenly, a pair of lips capture yours—sweet and creamy as if he just finished a glass of honey. His tongue breaks into the wet cavern of your mouth, exploring the darkest corners. You feel the metal of his piercing, how it presses against your tongue. Each groan he makes resonates deep within your chest. Determined to resist in any way you can, you bite down hard enough to split open his bottom lip.

Tartaglia jerks back with surprised laughter, dragging his pierced tongue over the blood. "I always expected you'd like it rough, darling. But it's fine—I like it too." As if taking your defiance as a challenge, he curls his hand into the back of your hair, and with a harsh tug, smashes your lips together in a desperate frenzy.

"Mmph!" The sheer force of his kiss muffles your voice. He forcefully pushes down your jaw, giving him enough room to shove his slithering tongue inside again. Saliva trickles down into your throat, and his mouth hums against yours; it urges you to amuse him more. You refuse at first, but as his disgusting saliva builds up from just how sloppy the kiss is, you're forced to take tiny gulps, and those gulps soon turn into hesitant swallows.

After a long moment, he finally pulls back. “That’s right. Drink it up, filthy little thing.” In a fit of rage, you spit on his face, and he recoils to wipe it off his cheek. Instead of seeing anger on his face, there's nothing but the flushed look of unhinged amusement. He suddenly jams his gun into your mouth, hitting the back of your throat, and you gag at the sudden intrusion. He hovers a finger over the trigger with a smirk on his face. “Wanna try that again?”

Tears blur your vision, but they're quickly blinked away. You won't let him win. You won't let this bastard get the better of you.

"That's what I thought." Childe moves the gun to the side of your head, showing exactly who's in charge. His other hand settles upon your pelvis; it nearly folds across the entire width. "So tiny. . ." You flinch as his touch moves lower, caressing all the subtle curves and dips of your flesh. "Ever been this intimate with anyone, darling?" He plays with the band of your panties, letting it smack against your hip after every tug. The ginger coos, as if your reaction was somehow an answer—the way you tremble, the way you glare at him with such lovely flushed cheeks. "Mmm, guess not. But that makes it more exciting, right?"

He suddenly turns you around, easily jerking your limbs until you're sitting on his lap. His hand falls from your neck, between the valley of your breasts, then to your sensitive bundle of nerves. Thorns sprout from the pit of your stomach. It's tingly, prickly, threatening to swallow you whole from the inside out.

"Don't touch there!"

Tartaglia lets out a low chuckle, pushing the barrel of the gun carelessly against your jaw. "Stupid girl, don't you see what position you're in? I'll show you what a man can do to someone so weak." The pads of his fingers are rough, so embarrassingly intimate as one traces your slit. "First, I'm gonna put my cock in here." He slips a gloved finger inside, and you keen at the unfamiliar disturbance. Tiny hands grip onto him tighter, desperately searching for purchase with each scarlet mark it leaves on his skin. You want to scream at him until your throat bled, but all you can muster are pathetic little whimpers.

His voice dips lower, husky with sweet poison. "Then, I'm gonna fuck you like this." His finger slowly drags in, out, in, and out. Each movement is earth-shattering, something you've never experienced before. It renders you completely useless. And despite how much you try to fight it off,fs you're losing yourself to him—body squirming, hips bucking disgracefully against his gloved hand.

"Think you can handle the real thing, sweetheart?" Childe's teasing remark reduces you to a mess of shame and boiling hot anger. You want to tell him to shut up, but your teeth are gritting together to prevent any more noises from coming out ( you don't want to feed his bloated ego any more than this ). However, as he curls his finger and hits a sensitive wall of flesh inside you, an embarrassing mewl chimes from your throat. "Heh, this wet already with just one of my fingers. Didn't realize my wife was so slutty."

"Ah!" You pitifully claw against his shirt, squeezing your legs together to make the electrifying feeling stop. But Childe doesn't give you time to rest. He holsters his gun and forcefully spreads your thighs—smeared with wet dirt, gravel, and slick—before shoving in another finger. The added friction makes you kick your feet in protest. "Nghhh! No, st-sthawp, Ajax!"

Childe's ears perk up at how his name sounds along your pretty tongue. It was something he shared with you after a night of heavy drinking. He never planned to reveal it, but the alcohol influenced him more than he thought. And perhaps it was also because of the way you looked while basked in silver moonlight.

"I hate you!" With an infuriated shriek, you pound against his chest, but that only seems to rile him up even more. His fingers hit even harder, deeper, faster. "Agh! Mmmf, n-no. . . I hate, nghh, h-hate you!"

Tartaglia lets out a snicker. "But you look like you're loving what I'm doing to you. It's not good to lie, you know that, right?" The repulsive, sopping noises of him toying with your cunt mortifies you. There's some pain, pleasure, and an exhausting sense of weakness as you're unable to do anything but lay there. "If you come on my hand, I'm gonna have to punish you for lying~"

Your stomach coils up into a wad of throbbing nerves. The lack of control is terrifying, but you still try to be defiant. "I'm not, ah, going to—!" After a harsh thrust of his fingers, with a loud cry, your body releases all that tension onto his glove. Everything goes blank for a second as your chest heaves up and down. It's so dizzy, the world is spinning.

"Mmm, looks like you need to be taught a lesson on how to be a good girl." His fingers pull out with a squelch, going to unbuckle his belt. There's a very noticeable bulge in his pants. And when he wrenches the restrictive garment down, releasing his hard, massive, swollen cock, new profound terror seeps into your guts. He's planning to put that disgusting thing in you; the thought is horrifying. You try to scurry away, only for his toned arms to push you back down. "Don't run from me." With a smirk, Childe turns your little body around to face him. His weight presses against you, slowly until you're both on the ground. The rain hits his back, droplets rolling down his sharp jaw and onto your face. "This might be a bit rough on your tiny body."

Before you can comprehend his warning, he pulls your soaking wet panties to the side and snaps his hips forward. The painful disturbance makes you wail, your cramped insides trying to resist Childe's member with all its might. It burns. White hot, like a metal rod dipped in lava. For a second, your body shuts down, vision blacking out before startling back awake.

"N-No, hurts. . . 'Jax!"

He jerks his hips, forcing his big cock deeper.

You're gonna die. He's going to kill you.

"Tight—" he hisses, then sucks in a breath that shifts into laughter. He's enjoying it; the cold sweat dripping down your face, how you kick, whimper, your sensitive insides gripping him so intensely. "Hahaha! I can't fuck you stupid if you're gonna keep clenching down me like that." He's smiling, like this is all some kind of joke. However, when you suddenly squeeze even tighter around him, that attitude breaks a little. Teeth gritting hard, Childe buries his head into the shallow dip of your shoulder. He's holding you so close with shivering arms—you can almost confuse it with love. The tender kind you prayed for, something that consumes you whole as if passing through a cloud heavy with rain.

After composing himself, he finally lifts himself back up to look you in the eyes. His face is contorted into a look of pleasure: red cheeks, eyes sharp with wicked amusement. "Ghh. . . W-What did I just say?"

You squeak as he rolls his hips, slipping in a few more inches you didn't realize existed ( it already feels so full ). When he makes a small pump to adjust to the wet heat, your eyes squeeze shut at the throbbing pain. It's too big—the tip feels like it's going to tear through your cervix. But just as you think it's pushed all the way to the hilt, your eyes go wide as he forces in a few more inches inside.

"Ahhh!" You glance down, horror flooding your veins at the sight of there being more to take in. His cock stretches past your limits, making your stomach protrude a little with its shape. The filthy sight burns hot shame throughout you. He's really inside. Not wanting to look at it anymore, your eyes wander elsewhere, but Childe isn't merciful enough to give you that salvation. He takes your chin and forces it forward.

"Look at me."

It's cold enough to see his heavy breaths come out as wisps.

The ginger flutters his eyes, taking a moment to savor the feeling before he fucks you loose. “Such a needy hole for me. So tight, and so fucking warm." When his member draws out slightly, the glossy sheen covering his hard, veiny skin makes you dizzy.

“Let go of me!” you command him, holding back the hot tears brewing in your eyes. In an attempt to relieve the pain, you lift your hips off the hideous thing, but a strong hand grips your waist and jerks you back onto it.

“Mm, now what did I say about not running away?”

Childe pulls himself out to the tip.

Knowing what's coming next, you shout, "W-Wait!" A screech claws out of your chest as he slams back inside with a heavy, wet squelch. Searing pain unfurls inside your weak body, the excruciating thrust of his thick cock too much to handle. You tremble as he withdraws again, agonizingly slow as if to see what other cute reactions you're capable of making. "No, stop—!" He doesn't listen, chuckling as you scratch the muscular jut of his shoulder blades.

“Haah, fffuckk, that’s good,” he admits, thrusting hard back inside with a grunt—so brutally you think for a moment that something split inside you. It’s his massive girth that stretches your insides uncomfortably, the way he’s so much bigger, how he didn’t bother being gentle. The tears you’ve been trying to hold back spill out, and you scream as he sets an unforgiving pace. His body is much bigger, stronger than yours. He easily rocks you back and forth—like you're just some fuckdoll for him to use whenever and however he pleased. All your cries and the way you slam your fists against him are ignored. “Aww, are you crying?” His voice drips with mockery.

You hate it. You hate it so much.

Your hands push against his chiseled stomach. "Get out of me!"

Tartaglia laughs in a way that makes your cheeks burn helplessly. "You're still fighting? Don't you see it's useless, stupid girl." He squeezes your wrists together and pins them above you. There's no way he can possibly hold you down with just one hand, so you struggle, and struggle, and struggle. But nothing budges him at all. His lips are back on yours: kissing hungrily, teeth biting, tongue not wasting any drop. The hot and slimy kisses trail to your collarbone, leaving thick trails of drool. It's like he's salivating at the thought, the feeling, the everything about you.

"I'm not your toy!" you scream at him.

The blue-eyed man lets out a stuttering breath, followed by a snicker. "But you're my wife, which means we're bonded together for the rest of eternity. Remember our vows? Until death do us part." He groans, shifting his weight back a little to get a full view of your adorable face—all red and tear-streaked. “Haaah, you’re so cute when you make that stupid face. That kind of expression would drive any man wild, so don't go showing anyone else." Childe lowers himself to whisper in your ear. "Or I'll get really mad.” He grabs the plush of your thigh, jerking it onto his shoulder to better fuck you into the concrete.

"Ah! Stop, Ajax!"

"That's right, say name name just like that. Go on, cry it all out," he grunts. The shameful wet noises of his hips pounding into your cunt—over and over—fill up the alley. You want to block it out and only listen to the crackles of thunder, the rain as it swallows you up in a bitter cold. But each thrust of his dick breaks your resolve little by little. You’re afraid of someone stumbling down this path and seeing you like this, but you also yearn to be saved.

"H-He. . . lp." It hurts to say anything; your throat is hoarse from all the screaming and pleas for him to stop. "Papa, help me. . ."

The moment you call out for your father, Childe's grip tightens into steel. A punishing thrust rips a cry from you, trembles wrecking through your lithe figure. "Pay attention to me." His voice comes out a low growl. Your vision that was starting to black out returns abruptly. "Who's fucking you right now? Who's making you their bitch? That's right, me. So just forget about everything else and only look. at. me."

There's something so harsh about his words and it confuses you. You've never him like this before—the way he's looking at you with those terrifying eyes.

He glances at the slick gathered between your hips. "We're making such a mess. Finally consummating our marriage after all this time, hm?" Childe takes your left hand, and in a surprising gesture of intimacy, kisses the rings on it. You watch in disbelief as he lifts your hand to his cheek, nuzzling against it—like your warmth is his only flame in the middle of a freezing winter. A strange look dawns his face; you can't pinpoint it no matter how hard you try.

You flinch from his touch despite how gentle it is. "N-No, stop. . . I can't do it anymore. I'm gonna die."

Something flickers across his face, but it's quickly covered up with a smirk.

"Mmmf, you're tightening up again," he heaves out. There's no smile on his face anymore, a concentrated expression taking its place. You feel every bit of his sweat on you, as well as the way your ribcage rattles with how resonating, deep and full his moans are. "I s-should've been, agh, doing this more often while I—ghh!—had the chance." Suddenly, his eyes narrow, cock quivering. "S-Shit, 'mm close. Gonna fill you up nice and good. You'd like that, yeah?"

When you shake your head frantically, he takes out the revolver again and aims it between your eyes, hand trembling slightly from the intense pressure wrapped around his cock. “I’ll blow your, nghhh, p-pretty brains out after I fill you up.” That dark promise widens your eyes in fear; the adorable reaction makes him bursts into wild laughter. But from the way he bites his lips soon after, eyes filled with desire, it's clear that he's struggling to keep himself composed. “Ah, that look on your face; it’s too good! There's still two bullets inside. I’ll do it, darling. I’ll really kill you.”

"Ajax," you plead with a cracking voice. The look on your face must've been priceless ( maybe it was the despair, the defeat, the betrayal, who knows ). His body suddenly shakes with hearty laughter.

"Ha, hahahah! You can be so, so, so cute when you want to be." Childe lets out a low groan. With one last violent thrust, he releases all his cum—in hot, sticky spurts that leave you shivering—deep deep into your womb.

Everything goes numb, the loud thunder and pouring sky becoming white noise.

You stare up at Childe as he spins the revolver's cylinder one more time. The bullets in their cartridge rotate with a clinking noise, metal on metal, beckoning death from its slumber. There's a chance you'll die, and a chance you may walk out of here alive. But your heart is broken, and no one can survive without a functioning heart.

Childe smiles; it isn't playful but rather weak. "Ha, don't look at me like that. It makes me feel kind of bad. But don't worry! If you survive this, I'll let you go like I promised earlier."

He presses the nozzle against your forehead slowly—perhaps to prolong your despair, or maybe it's because of something else. You think you see something change in his blue gaze, but those eyes are still dark—as heavy and cold as a thousand seas. Even then, you find yourself clinging to that tiny spark of light.

"I love you."

The words spill out from your mouth.

Tartaglia sucks in a sharp breath. His eyes widen, filling with some strange emotion you've never seen in them before. After a bit, he squeezes them shut, as if your words seared his flesh. "Don't say things like that either." He finally looks at you with an unclear expression, one that surely isn't warm but not cold either. "It makes me feel like I'm gonna do something I regret."

His finger moves to the trigger.

And you wait for what's to come.

▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃

## 𝐖𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐎𝐋𝐋𝐈𝐄 𝐇𝐀𝐒 𝐓𝐎 𝐒𝐀𝐘 | thank you for reading! got sick and tired of proofreading, so you'll probably find grammatical errors or clunky sentences. but wow i actually managed to write something kek.

( 10.21.23 ) ( © ollieink | my box is always open ! )

[continuousmeowing]

the first one is actually real btw. and kind of insane??? it feels like the setup for a shitty horror movie???

stories in local newspapers in the US are always something like “local high school has tradition where they haze the freshmen by chasing them with paintball guns for several miles. this must be stopped.” “a lot of pitbulls have been violent lately” “county hires lawyer famous for encouraging police brutality in court case after police officer kills innocent man in mental distress”

[romanoffsbish]

A Whiskey Lullaby (A Cruel Life)

Natasha Romanoff x Reader

Heavily Inspired by:

Warnings: Neglect (All Kinds) | Alcoholic Nat | Sick R | Death (Romeo & Juliet, but make it sapphic - Cancer / Suicide) | NonCannon IW/EG Allusions | Happy Ending (all Things Considered) | WC: 1,604

You were tired. You always were now that you knew you were dying. The doctor said at least a year but they were too enthused; lying to you, because it was only two months since then and you knew very well that the day you die is here.

And now — You wanted to talk to your wife, to get to maybe share one more dance beneath the stars but she wasn't available. She hadn't been for awhile, before you stopped running from your fate. The drinking started a month before, the lying and constant evasion came next. Natasha was mad at you, and you were dying. Dying to know why, dying to hear her say I love you one last time, but, she was dying to strangle you, to take you before the cancer.

——

Dying to know why, and as she laid on the couch with a puddle of beer staining the carpet you told her, "There's never a right time to say goodbye my dear, and I hope you'll forgive me in due time for leaving you this way." Forgive you for what? She'll never know because she was too drunk to hear you verbalize what she already knew was in your heart (and lungs).

Cancer took you and the world mourned first.

Natasha woke up to the deafening silence. Not even the birds were singing. The dead leaves not falling, and you weren't answering her pleas. Natasha crumbled to her knees beside the bed. Her guilt laced grief rattling through the cracks in the walls she'd recklessly built.

The bright leaves fell then. As did your limp hand from hers when she felt the chilled skin.

The redhead stumbled from your room and sent Yelena a text, "Izvini." (Sorry). Then she returned with a poisoned bottle of whiskey.

Natasha failed to love you like she solemnly promised (vowed). She let grief consume her. The waste of time drinking started the moment that she knew you were leaving her behind. It wasn't the actuality—the cruel world taking you—nope, it was you, breaking a sacred promise.

To stay with her til the end, hers; not yours.

How could you take her lifeline away? Then actually expect her to breathe right some day?

Natasha wouldn't give you that satisfaction.

You neglected yourself for the sake of her for years. Not complaining of pain when she was met with financial problems after Tony died and his estate froze the Avengers funds until they could unveil his final will and testament.

During the blip she was running out of money every time she thought she stood a chance at bringing you back; you, who was already sick.

A daughter lost her father, a wife her husband. Millions were brought back from extinction, surely it counted for something, but what did all of the sacrifice mean if she lost you too?

Her mind plays a loop of every time you'd coughed while you were on the run with her. Never near a hospital long enough to tell her that something was wrong, because you would never risk losing her to Ross as you got cured.

She would have turned herself in to Tony for him to swear to it you were covered. The man loved you enough to put differences aside, and Ross wasn't stupid enough to let you die.

Natasha would have survived because she would have gotten you back eventually. She was well known for her ability to make herself disappear and return when the time is right.

Timing was always tough for you two. Like when you missed the first date because you saw someone in need and tended to them instead.

You felt peace for a glorious few seconds.

Then once you realized you blew the redhead off you ran around the city on a mission. It started with you getting wine, then a pizza and ended with you pleading with the owner of the flower shop to unlock the door, and then once more pleading with a fist at Nat's front door.

You knocked, and knocked until she opened. You handed her the smushed up tulips in a rash wave of anxiety and she spluttered the petals from her lips and stared at you blankly. Green eyes holding a grudge against her perfect match, a foolish wager to take a chance on.

Natasha's anger nearly blew it, but you beat her with your rushed words: "I'm sorry for missing our date Natasha. I love pasta, and you too."

Natasha's eyes widened and you shrugged with a playful smile. "Surprise if you didn't already know! It was unrequited love in the start babe," you reminded her and she pouted. You flashed her an even dreamier smile, "But it worked out in the end," and teased her with a smug wink.

"It did, didn't it?" Natasha smiled and planned to kiss you breathless, to seal the deal of your hearts greatest desires. Then you ruined it.

Well, at least partially... Halting her game.

"I don't actually apologize though, because I couldn't leave that little boy crying beneath the dimmed streetlights of a ruthless city. He clung to me before I even saw him, so I put on my hero cap and helped him to find his mother."

Natasha's dagger eyes twisted into hearts.

"After four blocks of searching I heard her calling for Dylan, the little stinker lifted his head and cried. His mother was on me in an instant and only refrained from punching me when she saw I was an Avenger. If it were me I still would've swung. But she didn't. Only took a photo then thanked me in a rush to fame."

Natasha watched you in amusement as your face revealed your thoughts first, you scoffed humorously at that, it was just peculiar to you because: "If you share that story, all you are saying is 'I'm the mom who lost sight of my toddler in the streets of a devious New York.'"

You went to catch your breath, but the redhead needed you to stop blabbing, so she pulled you into a kiss that took your next to last breath.

Then she had to go and silence you to never have to face the ramifications of the true last breath. It left your lips while she slept in torment, her dreams were always cruel now.

As she took the last sip she sighed, because at this time she'd be escaping the wake up call.

Natasha shed a relieved tear, her dulled eyes closed and the empty bottle in her hand slipped onto the ground and shattered. The birds cried and the trees stood barren. The sun that just rose eventually set. Your lifeless bodies connected like lovers unlike they'd been prior.

That doomed night, the angels and birds sang in a practiced symphony; a whiskey lullaby.

The world lost two more heroes in the aftermath. Everyone mourned, Yelena buried you both beneath the willows, and cried as she yelled at you two for being so selfish. Laura clung to the blonde because now she was down a husband and sisters, by blood and marriage.

Yelena gave into the reality that this was all the family she had left. Losing the same sisters left them bonded now, in a morbidly unfair way.

It was frivolous really, to grieve the loss instead of celebrate the conquered life. They cry out; but to a void, neither of you could hear the mourning; eternally booked and busy.

Too busy rejoicing in your afterlives together.

Natasha got a second chance at loving you.

She'd found you in a field, out of breath from all the racing to get to you, but also because you were glowing brighter than ever before. Wearing a vivacious smile and looking pretty.

Much like when she found you earth-side she crumbed to her knees, sobbing. But this time her tears were a mix of bitter joy. You quickly shushed her though, and pulled her to her feet and right into a deep, meaningful kiss. It was free of sin, but the deviants would get off to it in a porno because they'd feel the authenticity.

The love was palpable and renewed. She cried into your mouth but you continued smiling.

"I'm sorry," Natasha whispered into the warm skin of your neck. Not like blood pumping beneath skin, but more so a sensational bliss. "I ruined our happy ever after moya lyubov'."

"Don't be sorry Natasha," you refuted her while spinning her around by your grip on her hips. Forcing her to see the dreams you shared in front of her. Day flashed to night and you spun her around beneath the light of the moon.

When you finally stopped spinning her she fell into your arms in a graceless way she detested. Her brows furrowed once again but you kissed her lips and devilishly distracted her mind. Pulling away you gasped, then smiled so soft that she finally deemed this moment reality.

You were her angel always, but you were finally free of the cruel restraints of a limited world. Natasha jumped and you caught her, she wrapped her arms around your neck, her legs mirroring them around your waist. You pecked her lips then said: "We lived that life full of regrets, always forgiving, but unable to forget. Let's save the now for absolution, we're free."

"In paradise baby," Natasha cheered and the sun set. Then it rose without conditions, and you lived out your dreams with your lover.

Eternity was kind to you, oh the places your love could've gone if only life had been too.

——

Heartbreaking Angst | Not Even a Happy Life so Why Would the End be Any Different? | Exactly | Just Kidding Babe | The end is for making amends 💕

[decodedlvr]

the band-aid to my wounds

Older!Eddie Munson x naive!Fem reader - eventual twins Steve Harrington x reader x Kurt Kunckle series| pt 1 | pt 2 | pt 3 … TBC

Summary: After stumbling into an old barn after being stranded by your freshly new ex boyfriend, you wake up strangely in a room..that isn't yours..

warnings: talks of cheating, abuse, angst, slight stockholm syndrome at a glance, anxiety, childhood trauma, parent problems; daddy issues, eventual smut, cursing, drinking, smoking, perviness, slight dub-con, miscommunications, blood mention

word count: idk? 1k?

June 12th, 1988 the roads were closed off.

I have no idea why im still together with this asshole, why am i so stupid? oh because id do anything for people to love and not leave me. Looking at him now..hands beating the steering wheel, veins popping through his temples..not to mention his breath. Ashton my oh so loving, narcissist, no good boyfriend. We've been together for 6 years, basically high school sweethearts. Went from flirty glaces, to lab partners, to collage students with an alcohol addiction. Mainly his addiction...he got me started on it.

Ashton basically took me in with his fatherly like protectiveness when we first got together. He was walking me to my front door after a bowling date he asked me out to my sophomore year, of course i said yes.; until the front door opened. Uh oh, dads home; Bill. The moment the door opened i watched my father tackle Ashton to the ground without so much as a reason screaming words like "get off my property, boys like you should be dead in a gutter, ill kill you"...

Lets just say that date night was a bit too eventful for my liking.

My dad always had a problem with Ashton because he went to highschool with his father. Ashtons dad was a bully back in the day, made my dads life a living hell.. took everything away from him. the girl, the looks, the job..

Dave, Ashtons father, was caught making out with Shannon, my dads ex lover but also first love. Dave knew he had the upper hand when it came to getting the things he wanted. Hell, Shannon seduced him into it. Shannon was only with my dad for the money. Got knocked up but gave him the baby and ran away to be with his dad. As you can see I am that baby now today.

I made a promise to Ashton after sneaking him to my bedroom window that same night cleaning his wounds; that it was me and him against the world. He knew about me and my parents relationship. How my step-mother only has good things to say about me in a room full of people, but how she degrades me behind closed doors. How my dads drinking problem gave him alcohol poisoning, twice' and about his anger problems. You'd think being in a household that is always loud would help you shape up to loud sounds in the future. Boy was that theory proven wrong.

anytime someone yells or raises their tone, you're immediately in fight or flight response. tense..anxious. You hate going to basketball games just for that reason. Its uncomfortable.. and he knew that, but apparently in this moment, he didn't give a fuck-

"Did you hear me??" Ashton says impatiently. "No im sorry, i cant hear when you mumble.." you reply

you also hated when people uttered things under their breath.

dad does that shit.

"Don't be smart with me y/n, ill leave you right here,right now in the middle of the fucking road

"Yeah whatever Ashton, just stop talking to me and drive" feeling the breaks pull forward and in a flash he was out of the drivers seat, and already pulling you out of the passenger-

"WHAT THE FUCK" i yell- what the fuck are you doing Ashton?”

“Shut up!” he smacks me. Your eyes widen in more shock than fear over anything. “Did you j-just hit me?” i ask with a scratched voice--

“I told you more than once not to back talk me didnt i?”

“i didn’t.. it was once and i stopped ashton”-

-“You’ve done it all goddamn night, accusing me of cheating, clinging onto me when i ran into Tommy, i told you to give me some fucking space --i interrupt him.

“YOU did cheat on me you asshole!! That bitch was fucking bragging about it in the bathroom”—

“Do you really think after what 4 years-“6 actually“ i say pissing him off further. he looks at you angrily

He sighs. “Do you really think after years of being together, i would do that to you?” he say looking down at the ground sadly; making you instatly regret your words

“..no-no of course not i just thou”-

-“You thought wrong! he snaps-I would never do that to you baby..y/n?” he says letting go of the grip on my arms, caressing my cheek-“..I know you get a little confused sometimes, its okay come here” he says pulling you into a deep hug

“..im sorry ash”-

“shh” he coos.

“I really thought—what the fuck is that?” you shove him away

“Y-you piece of shit!!” you pull around back collar piece of his shirt up to his face; showing him the peach colored lipstick stain

“Are you fucking serious Ashton?” his eyes widen and stomach drops when he sees the prominent evidence of his past events—

“B-baby look-“

“No! fuck you were done!”

He grabs me closer, “No we fucking arent- ive gave you everything! he starts shouting making you flinch

P-please stop yelling at me! you plea tears rolling down your face

“Just—here” he opens the car door “just get back in and ill explain on the way”—

“No.” you shove past him running and crying

“Y/N come back here!. its too dark—

“ i dont care leave me alone!”

“Y/n theres crazy people out here..!”

you stop in your tracks, turning back to say- “You’re the crazy person!”

he laughs. “Oh im crazy? Ill show you fuckin crazy”—he says marching over to the drivers side of the car starting it back up—mumbling ill show you a fucking crazy person babe—and he spees off

you cant believe he actually just left you.. standing here.

“ASSHOLE!” you shout regulardess if hes still there or not, turning back around to walk down the cold empty road

are you fuckig kidding me?

wow he fooled me

how didnt i see this before

did he love me?

he says he does

then why did he leave me..

fucking jerk!!

The long 7 mile walk with a head full of shitty thoughts walk you to a sun burnt orange barn.

you're exhausted. your hearts broken. your feet hurt. its too dark to keep walking

"I mean i could crash here right?" you say already walking towards the musky building

hay bells, chickens, tools. looks already owned

you dont care you just need a place to rest you head for a bit.

stinks in here. muttering to yourself, opening and shutting the barn door behind you.

perfect you say spotting an old rocking chair..and yard sale signs?

does somebody live here?

you're too exhausted to think any more tonight

this'll do. taking your jacket off to use as a prop pillow, climbing into the chair almost immediately drifting off.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

whats that smell? smells like bacon?

bacon? your eyes are still shut but you can sense a different environment around you. Fluttering your eyes open.. a clock? pictures? what?-jumping up at the sound of a shoe

"WHO ARE YOU?" your already in flight or fight mode

"Whoa whoa its okay, im the owner of the barn i found you in”.

is he lying?

"YOU'RE LYING!" you look around in a panic

"Sweetheart if i was lying, how come i specifically found you in my rocking chair, you must of been tired, i got my buddy who also runs the farm to scoop you up and bring you to our guest bedroom, couldn't just leave a woman out in the open like that.. especially at night"

your stomach knots when he calls you sweetheart.

okay maybe he harmless, just very kindly harmless?

"Here" he throws his arm out, "I'm Eddie, Eddie Munson."

- - is this interesting so far? lmk- -

reblogs appreciated:>

[topguncortez]

the official Whumptober masterlist

warning: This challenge contains heavy material. Please Read with caution. 18+, MINORS DNI.

1 | PICK YOUR POISON - J. Seresin synopsis: You never imagined sharing your deepest darkest secrets in front of two monsters and your best friend. Loosely based on the book “Still Beating” by Jennifer Hartmann. warnings: kidnapping, mentions of sexual abuse, physical abuse, mentions of miscarriage, murder, character death, truth serum, drugging, forced proximity.

2 |  SLEEP WHEN YOU’RE DEAD - B. Floyd synopsis: Bob has had a hard time adjusting to life after a tragic accident. Every time he closes his eyes, the nightmares come flooding back. warnings: mercy killing, graphic details of injury, physical violence, nightmares, choking, panic attack, character death, insomnia.

3 | LET YOUR SENSES GUIDE YOU - N. Trace Synopsis: Natasha thinks she has everything under control after the bird strike, but you think she's heading towards a break down. warnings: bird strike, panic attack, mentions of character death, anger, grief, mentions of injury

4 | THE SECRETS THAT YOU KEEP - J. Seresin synopsis: things hadn't been great between the two of them for some time, but she never knew there was another woman involved warnings: infidelity, cheating, mentions of a miscarriage, unhleatiy coping mechanisms, grief, heartbreak

5 | HELD AGAINST YOUR WILL - B. Floyd synopsis: Bob always dreamed that one day he'd be superman, and one day that dream came true. . . almost warnings: domestic violence, teen pregnancy, being held a gun point, gun shots, character death.

6 | OUT OF YOUR MIND - B. Bradshaw synopsis: Bradley hadn't ever dreamed of becoming a dad until one day he found out he was going to be one. . . and then he became all the kid had. warnings: child birth, mentions of cannon character death, character death, premature labor, premature newborn, talks about premature death, grief.

7 | NOT DEAD TILL YOU’RE WARM N DEAD - R. Abbott synopsis: Your and Rhett's relationship had been anything but easy between bull riding and lies. But you had hoped that you would be enough for him to come back alive. warnings: cursing, mentions of cheating, mentions of sex, mentions of drug and alcohol abuse, death, character death, allusion of suicide.

8 | A BRAIN ON FIRE - B. Bradshaw synopsis: ever since Bradley was little he struggled to keep things in order and keep the voices in his head at bay. One day, the voices get too loud and Bradley misses the biggest day of your career. warnings: mental illness, OCD, panic attacks, mentions of self harm, cursing, mentions of sexism, tears.

9 | DEAD ON YOUR FEET - J. Seresin synopsis: you were born with the family flaw that left you missing a part and scared Warnings: heart transplant, mentions of scars, teasing, unwanted sexual contact, mentions of sexual assault.

10 | A GIFT TO REMEMBER - B. Floyd synopsis: you and bob had been trying for a long time to start a family of your own. and right when you start to see the light at the end of the tunnel, it gets snuffed out warnings: mentions of pregnancy, mentions of miscarriages, failed IVF, mentions of female anatomy, cursing, grammar errors.

11 | FLOAT LIKE A FEATHER - J. Seresin synopsis: fear does a strange thing to the human body, and you've become victim to its paralyzing affects. warnings: sexual assault, work place violence, victim blaming, fear, cursing, grief, sexual harassment, mentions of retaliation, mentions of emergency contraceptives, mentions of self harm.

12 | LEFT A SCAR ON MY HEART - B. Bradshaw synopsis: in the wake of a tragic death, everyone deals with their grief differently. You thought you'd be able to handle it, but you weren't strong enough. warnings: suicide, mentions of self harm, details about character death, character death, unhealthy coping mechanism, grief

13 | A FORCE OF NATURE, AN ACT OF GOD - J. Seresin synopsis: you always said it would take an act of God to take Jake Seresin off this earth. . . maybe you should've kept that thought to yourself warnings: character death, grief, pregnancy, unhealthy coping mechanisms.

14 | 9-1-1, WHAT’S YOUR EMERGENCY? - J. Seresin synopsis: the hospital used to be one of your favorite places to be at. . . that was until someone took the joy right out of helping people warnings: mass shooting, vivid description of being shot, death, unhealthy coping mechanisms, mentions of a psychotic break, mentions of being held in a psych ward.

15 | WHO’S THE NEW KID? - J. Seresin synopsis: Jake and Y/N start to look at when their relationship changed and drove them towards the arms of others warnings: mentions of cheating, mentions of a miscarriage, mentions of an unwanted pregnancy, divorce, mentions of pregnancy depression

16 | ONE HALF OF A WHOLE PERSON - J. Seresin synopsis: Jake's dream has always been to fly. But what happens when the only way to save his life, is taking away something that would ruin his career. warnings: injuries, infections, plane crash, medical jargon, mentions of death, mentions of suicide, amputations, grief

17 | INTO THE FIRE - B. Bradshaw synopsis: dragon and rooster feel like they are reliving their worst nightmare over again. but this time, things look a little bit brighter warnings: mentions of stillbirth, mentions of miscarriage, fear of hospitals, passing out, ultrasounds, pregnancy, PTSD

18 | TAKING A SICK DAY - J. Seresin synopsis: what you thought was just a stomach bug, turned into you having to make the biggest decision of your life and putting you and Jake's relationship to the test warnings: medical abortion, abortion pills, pregnancy, mentions of miscarriage, mentions of missed menstrual cycles, grief, mentions of teenage pregnancy, pro-life protestors, cursing, vomiting.

19 | I’LL NEVER PUSH YOU AROUND - B. Floyd synopsis: you've been hiding something from Bob for a while, and when the truth gets exposed, he reacts in a way you weren't expecting warnings: cheating, pregnancy, manipulation, anger issues, breaking glass, fighting, dark!bob

20 | THE BEAUTY FELL FOR THE BEAST - R. Wheeler synopsis: Rip has no idea what John saw in you to keep you at the ranch, but he quickly finds out that it's got nothing to do with how you cowboy warnings: domestic violence, mentions of scars and injuries, cursing, slight sexism

21 | WHAT DOESN’T KILL YOU - B. Bradshaw synopsis: Dragon had always envisioned how the birth of her child would go, and it wasn't anything like how it actually went. warnings: pregnancy, child birth, c-section, medical jargon, inaccurate medical procedures, cursing, mentions of child death, mentions of miscarriage, mentions of still birth, grief

22 | PAIN MAKES YOU STRONGER - N. Trace synopsis: Natasha deals with the aftermath of the situation with Captain Underwood. She thought that the Navy would have her back, but she was met with a rude awakening. warnings: sexual assault, sexual harassment, victim blaming, retaliation, the military failing to protects its own people

23 |  DON’T TRY TO BE THE HERO - J. Seresin synopsis: The rat in the Seresin mafia has been exposed and it's the last person Jake thought would ever betray him. Part of the Bad Medicine series. warnings: murder, mentions of torture, broken bones, cheating, mafia, character death, description of injuries, gun violence, abuse, illegal activities

24 | RUNNING UP THAT HILL TO MAKE A DEAL WITH GOD 

25 | BAD DREAMS, BAD DREAMS, HERE TO STAY - N. Trace

26 | THE LAZARUS EFFECT 

27 | NEVER LET GO - J. Seresin, B. Bradshaw, B. Floyd, M. Garcia Synopsis: an interviewer sits down with some of the famous murderesses of Miramar Corrections Facility. warnings: murder, character death, description of murder, hanging, innocence, cheating, cursing, mentions of mental illness

28 | OUT OF BREATH AND OUT OF TIME

29 | ONE TICKET TO HELL - J. Seresin

30 | YOU’RE MINE, AND ALWAYS WILL BE MINE

31 | A LIGHT AT THE END OF THE TUNNEL

[canonmisogynyvictimstournament]

PROPAGANDA

AGENT TEXAS (RED VS BLUE)

1.) okay so tex is an ai based on the memories this one dickhead dude has of his dead wife, allison. there's also an ai based on the dickhead dude himself, his name's church. all the stuff with the ai's and the different versions of her is kind of confusing to explain but she sort of dies twice- first sacrificing herself for something that has very little narrative weight, and being absorbed into a kind of . monstrous mesh of other ai's (including the original church ai) that then is erased, with basically no mention of tex, it's all about church's death.

then, there's another version of both church and tex born from the original church ai's memories (epsilon-tex and epsilon-church). epsilon-church's arc is basically about learning to move on from his past and let go of tex, because he's kind of obsessed with her and it's preventing him from progressing. so, epsilon-church 'forgets' tex, deleting her for good. tl;dr she dies, again, basically entirely for church's development.

when i was a kid super into rvb i was always really disinterested in tex and looking back it's because er story just.. isn't resolved satisfyingly at all. basically all of her story is hitched so tightly to church's story and development that tex barely gets room to be more than a memory of the director's dead wife- she never gets to move past the circumstances that created her and become her own person entirely divorced from the director or from church- allison died and we never knew anything about her besides that the director god sad about it. beta-tex died unceremoniously and without mention. epsilon-tex died for church's character growth.

quoting church's own words from the show: ""She died in her real life, and that's all the Director ever remembered of her. So now, no matter how tough she is, no matter how hard she fights, she's always going to fail, because that's what she's based on. No matter what she's doing, or what she's trying to accomplish, just when her goal is within her reach, it gets yanked away. Every. Single. Time." and she just never… actually overcomes this. she just dies.

and quoting now-inactive tumblr user epsilontucker from 2015 who put it better than i could: "Tex’s whole life was spent fighting for agency. Freedom from what Omega wanted her to be (O’Malley), what the Director wanted her to be (Allison), what Church wanted her to be (his). Epsilon-Tex wanted to know who she was and why she was and she wanted to dismantle everything Church ever built. Especially because he built it for her.

And this character arc about freedom and agency, about a chance to define herself on her own terms, is resolved by… Church deciding to delete her.

Because everybody always seems to know what’s best for Tex."

this is also to say nothing of the treatment of her character on just, like, an episode-to-episode basis. rvb has a big problem with basically treating "bitch" as a personality trait for female characters, and tex gets some of the worst of it. if you made a drinking game of how often tex gets called a bitch, or a huge bitch, you'd die of alcohol poisoning. also at one point andy the bomb makes a bunch of transmisogynistic jokes at her because she's suppsoedly mannish (she's not masculine or feminine really everybody in this show is a multicolor master chief. she's just good at fighting) and then calls her a dyke. the end

2.) Some background (spoilers): Tex is introduced as a badass mercenary from Project Freelancer, and the ex girlfriend of Church, the main character of the show. It is eventually revealed she and Church are both Aritifical Intelligence programs; Church is an AI copy of the Director of Project Freelancer, and Tex is a copy of the Director's late wife.

Firstly she is straightforwardly the victim of misogynistic "jokes" for the first several seasons. She is called misogynistic slurs, shamed for sleeping with other men besides Church, she cannot work the entertainment stand at the base bc she's female, called lesbophobic and transmysogonistic slurs bc she is a competent soldier, and blackmails another female character out of jealousy bc she is the only other girl in the group.

Even when these jokes go away, and the show transitions from comedy to drama, her writing revolves around the male characters around her. Because she is the personification of the memory of the Director's dead wife, and his perceieved failure to save her, she explicitly, in the text, will always fail at what she sets out to accomplish no matter how strong she is. She wishes to be free of the cycle of being resurrected bc Church can't live without her only to fail and die again, but lacks the agency to end it without Church. Church's arc about learning to let her go ends not with her being free to exist as her own person without him, but with him forgetting her. Since she IS his memory, this ERASES HER FROM EXISTENCE. She literally cannot exist without this guy.

This would all be easier to swallow if she wasn't the ONLY prominent female main character for 8 whole seasons. It's a beautiful story about how grief can fester into anger and a need for control, and how that pushes away the people you love, but it's a story entirely centered around Church's development, in which she is a prop that stops existing when the story is over. I love her but she deserved so much better than she got.

3.) girlboss

KAMALA KHAN (MARVEL COMICS) (CW: Racism)

1.) One of the most prominent brown women in all of comics, beloved by the fan base. Recently killed in a PETER PARKER SPIDERMAN COMIC (despite being much closer with Miles Morales and having basically no relationship with Peter) in what's probably the name of MCU synergy, which nobody wanted (she'll probably be resurrected as a mutant, erasing her unique and interesting history as an Inhuman). She was using her shapeshifting powers again despite having stopped in her solo as she got more confident in her own skin and identity as a Pakistani American girl, died disguised as the very white Mary Jane as a fake out/last minute replacement for killing off MJ. I fucking hate it here. A cheap trick to drive sales. L + Misogyny + racism + are you fucking kidding me

[tyuns-world]

⏱︎ Time gained ⏱︎

Part one: Time Wasted

Paring: fem! Reader x fwb! Beomgyu

Genre: angst (slightly hopeful)

Summary: After a painful realization, you decided to reclaim your life from an unrequited love but a confrontation might bring you back to his world.

Wc: 1k

After that day, you had a reality check. You knew you needed to do better for yourself. You had let yourself become so consumed by Beomgyu's whims that you let yourself go.

All your thoughts were on him. All your focus, attention, and love were placed on a guy who never even loved you back. You continuously told yourself you were okay with this and that it was the only way to make him fall in love with you, but you were so wrong. His words made you feel ashamed, realizing how far things had gone.

Over the next few months, you slowly picked yourself back up. You began to see what you had been missing out on by being so wrapped around Beomgyu's finger. You started going out to parties again, spending more time with friends, rediscovering old interests that once filled your time, and even flirting with guys who caught your interest.

You were truly happy again, and thoughts of Beomgyu slowly faded from your mind. However, they never really left. How could they? You still didn't have the heart to block his number, so whenever he was under the influence, he reached out to you hoping you'd text back so he could get you back into his bed. When he sobered up, he'd quickly unsend the messages and pretend like nothing happened. It was a relentless cycle.

It was hard to admit, but your face still lit up whenever he texted, hoping for an apology or a "can we start over" — something that would satisfy that old feeling of needing his love. But it never came, so eventually, you found yourself muting him instead of blocking.

One night, you were getting ready to go out with friends because your friend Sooyoung was throwing a rager at her place. You felt excited about the night ahead. You had on your favorite party dress, done your hair and makeup, and were just about to head out the door when your phone buzzed. You glanced down to see Beomgyu's name lighting up the screen. A part of you wanted to ignore it, but old habits die hard. With a sigh, you answered the call.

"Hey," you said cautiously, trying to keep your tone neutral.

There was a pause before you heard a familiar voice, but it wasn't Beomgyu's. It was his friend, Soobin. "Hey, we know you two aren't together anymore, but can you come pick Beomgyu up? He's piss drunk and causing a scene. We dumped him in one of the rooms at Sooyoung's party, but we're gonna go party hop and we aren't taking him."

"Look, I don't—" you started to say, but the line clicked dead.

You sighed. Of course, you had to go to the party where you were supposed to have fun, just to pick up Beomgyu after he'd left you broken. You thought about leaving him alone, but the thought of him hurting himself or getting alcohol poisoning had you rushing to the party immediately.

When you arrived, your friends tried to wave you over, but you just smiled and hurried to the bedroom where you found Beomgyu, slumped against the floor with his back against the bed. His eyes were glassy, and he barely registered your presence until you were right in front of him.

"Y/N..." he slurred, a lazy smile spreading across his face. "You came."

"What the fuck, Beomgyu? You're smart enough to know your limit. Why the fuck are you so drunk?" you yelled at him. He just chuckled—that heart-stopping, sexy chuckle.

"You stopped answering me. I needed a drink," he shrugged, closing his eyes and tilting his head back against the bed frame.

"You were the one who told me to get lost! You were the one who said I was pathetic and needed to get over you," you yelled, tears forming in your eyes.

"You kept letting me disappoint you over and over. I'm a pretty selfish guy, but seeing you like that was just sad," he mumbled, your yelling sobering him up quickly.

Your heart clenched at his words. A strange mix of anger and pity washed over you. You took a deep breath, trying to steady yourself.

"You think this is better?" you asked, your voice trembling. "You think seeing you like this makes it easier?"

Beomgyu looked up at you. "I don't know what to do, Y/N. I don't know what to do with myself when you're not here."

You looked at him, stunned. You knew you shouldn't let his words get to you. You knew he would probably take it all back when he was sober. But no matter how much self-love or how many distractions you found, Beomgyu would always be on your mind.

"Beomgyu," you began, trying to steady your voice, "you can't keep doing this. You can't keep using me as a crutch when you're feeling lost. I can't handle it anymore. I love you," you confess.

Beomgyu takes a deep breath. "I know you do."

He couldn't say it back. Even after all this time, he just doesn't love you, and nothing you do or say will ever change his mind. You slide down next to him. "Gyu, why did you ask me out?"

He looks a bit taken aback. You've never asked him this question in your whole complex relationship. He stammers a bit but finally says, "I don't know. You just looked like a hot angel whenever I saw you."

"Did you ever think you loved me?" you ask, wiping a tear that slid down your face.

Beomgyu sighs, running a hand through his hair, the stress of this conversation taking its toll. "Yes, I did," he replies, turning to look at you lazily. "But then I thought, how could I actually love you if I treat you like any other piece of ass?"

His words hit you like a punch to the gut, leaving you breathless. You struggle to find the right words, your voice trembling. "So, what was I to you then? Just a distraction?"

Beomgyu's eyes soften for a moment, and he looks away, unable to meet your gaze. "I don't know," he admits quietly. "I guess I was just afraid of what it meant to really care about someone." You take a deep breath, trying to steady your emotions. "Afraid? Beomgyu, I gave you everything. I was vulnerable with you."

He clenches his jaw, frustration evident in his eyes. "And I took advantage of that. I know. But it's not because I didn't care. It's because I didn't know how to care the right way."

Silence hangs heavy between you, the weight of his words admitting that he cared and could have loved you feeling suffocating. Finally, you speak, your voice barely above a whisper. "Maybe it's too late for us, then."

Beomgyu's shoulders slump, defeat washing over him. "It always was, but I still need you in my life," he says, gesturing to his drunken form.

"Friends, then?" You turn to fully face him, extending your hand.

"With benefits," Beomgyu jokes. You punch him lightly in the arm, scoffing.

"Fine, fine. We can try friends," he chuckles.

[lady-ashfade]

Dark!Yandere Aegon II Targaryen.

Dark!Yandere Aegon Targaryen x Bastard Fem Reader.

This is a scenario HC’s. 

Plot: Being the bastard of Daemon Targaryen had its perks, like getting his traits of chaos and the love for mischief. A certain prince loves to be your puppet. 

Notes: You are willing in this, this is more darker then most of my other fics. Your appearance doesn’t match daemons. I’m going to make general yandere Aegon because this is different and I kinda love how dark he is. <3

Taglist: @whatafreakingloser @have-a-good-day-x1000 @second-try-stevie @prettyinblack231

Warnings: Dark yandere tendencies, this is much darker then most of my other fics, suggestions themes. Writing mistakes.

If you are sensitive to hard topics don’t go one.

Being the famous bastard of your father was always a amusement to live through. People always looking down on you for being born, saying you're a disgrace to the Targaryen house and you should be thankful your father took you in.

You always loved the way they shouted at you. You took pleasure in making people angry, but for just breathing? That has to be Accomplishment.

Your mother- You were told, was in love with the prince. Saying he always sent her gifts and did sweet things for her, they seemed to love each other. Then they had you out of wedlock and he didn't know about you until years passed when he returned with his wife Laena.

Your mother had passed and you lived with your aunt working for her as a servant, scrounging for anything you could get. Your family saw you as the downfall of their house but decided to at least give you a roof to sleep under for the memory of your mother.

That's when daemon and his family showed up. As soon as he saw you he knew you were his, the hint of mischief in your eyes he knew to well. He then took you away and promised you'd live with your new family, his. Laena took you in and treated you well and you grew to love your younger sisters.

No one could tell if you were targaryen or not, not having white hair and having similar features to your mothers. But daemon gave you a egg to catch and to your surprise it did. You named her Zammory.

Now everyone knew you were a targaryen, and close to your father. You were often caught in fights and showed no respect for anyone but your close family, something daemon taught you. You did what you felt was best at times and took no one’s bull and you enjoyed it. You always had a fire burning in your soul and it could never be put out.

You trained alongside your dragon and train with a sword, bow and anything you can use to kill. You studied poison and could make remedies to heal. You stayed being the shadow and that’s how you liked it: Free to do what you pleased.

When you where old enough you traveled to kingslanding in secret to see what all the fuss was about. You didn’t bring Zammory with you so you traveled by bouts, you were good at hiding. The crew on the ship could all be dead if you wanted to because no one knew of your presences.

As you walked around the streets you took time to notice everything. The way you could easyly spot the poor form the rich, the whores from the ladies and you’re favorite was the thieves But you stayed to looking at the carts full of merchandise, it seemed over crowded and you wandered why they haven’t done anything  about it.

Just then while moving through the alleyway you’re chest was hit by something hard and you moved to catch your balance. “Watch here your going.” You yelled and glared at the cloaked boy. He smelled of alcohol and his face red and black, dark circles under his eyes that said that he hasn’t gotten a good nights sleep in years.

“Oh, fuck off.” He slurred and shoved you weakly and continued to walk away while you watched. He pissed you off, you could gut him like a fish and no one would know it was you. His body wobbled as he tried to lean on the walls to help him stand up but his body gave out and he fell to the ground.

You heard him whimper and you always enjoyed watching people in pain but for some reason this felt different. You felt a slight guilt for the boy being in such a sorry state, what has he been through to make him such a pathetic human?

“Where do you need to go?” You ask wrapping his arm around yours and lifting him up. “Sh- I need to get-” he hiccuped, “Castle.” You looked down at him to see his eyes trying to focus on your face from being so close to passing out.

His eyes only could see so much but what he saw he would never forget. Such a beautiful face: One of his salvation. Had the gods finally blessed him with happiness? It must be because he was going to make you his.

“ Son of a bitch.” You groans and slapped his face as he went back and his body weight dipped. His hood moved and you could see the white shiny hair poking out. “Fuck.” He was one of them. The real Royal Targaryens. You wanted to drop him right there and steal his shit, but maybe you could gain something from this.

You could finally met the people you’ve been hearing so much about, this one seemed to be young just like you but you wondered if he was Aegon or aemond. Either way, you wanted to get your hands in a challenge and this seemed like a good place to do it.

You took him to the castle walls and men opened the gates and pointed their swords at you. “I’m just here to drop off something I think the king and queen are missing.” You dropped him on the ground and put your hands up smirking.

They grabbed him and began to pull him away but he muttered, “She comes…Need her to come.” As much as they didn’t want to they brought you in and you followed proudly that your plan as worked.

You came to learn that he was 13 and only a year young then you, he was prince Aegon the oldest son of the king. Your Cousin.

They lead you to the queens chamber and they took Aegon away but he didn’t complain because he was fully knocked out. As soon as you entered the room you’re spine was sent a shiver and the atmosphere.

“Come,” Queen Alicent said from her place on the couched. You moved closer and sat in the side in front of her but not next to her where she patted. “You brung the prince back. If you care explaining what happened I’d like to hear the details.”

“I was roaming the streets until your son dumped into me and decided to be a cunt, you should teach him not to be arrogant because I was close to killing him. But then I realized it was the prince.” You put on a fake smile but showing you that you were also being sarcastic. “Then I took him back where he asked, because he is a prince.”

She started at you for a moment. “Have we met before?” The smile on your face turned into a smirk to answer her question, “No but you have met my father. It seems he have started a family Reunion.” You slid down your hood removing its pins to keep it in the place and showed your face fully.

She looked down at the necklace hanging above your clothes, but her eyes went down when you moved to show your swords handle. “You’re Y/n?”

“The famous Bastard in the flesh.” You clapped your hands together watching her head turn. Her face was showing signs of being afraid, discussed and discomfort but with a lot of confusion. “You’re probably wondering what I am planning, why I returned your son without killing him.” Her small head tilt confirmed that you were right.

“I want to make my own destiny, as much as I love my father I know he did the same. You will have to repay me for returning him, I don’t want gold or pretty little gift baskets.” You lean forward and her eyes narrowed at you.

“Then what do you want?” You loved making people feel uneasy, it was fun to get under her skin and it was so easy. “I want a place in court. I want to be a protector, yours or your daughter’s, Aegons or even the kings. For who, I do not care. I just want a place here.”

She wanted to turn you away but if daemon or even Viserys heard that she killed you or even tried she’d be in hell. She agreed to your terms and made you her daughters protector. You sent letters to your father saying you had gained a spot at court. He was angry and annoyed but you left one detail in your letters showing him that what you planned was devious.

All Aegon could do was remember your face. When he hears you stayed in court he was relieved. He couldn’t understand it but he felt like he needed you to breathe and he couldn’t bare you being away from him.

He tried and tried to get close to you but you made it a game. Never caring for his words of taking you to bed and you always laughed and picked on him.

He loves the way you glared at people or the smirk you get when you angered anyone. A beautiful woman that was made just for him. He knew you wouldn’t love anyone but him and him you, but that never stopped him from taking the whores in the streets. But he only pictured you..

He was always chasing after you, trying so hard to get your attention. You would smack him for anything wrong he would say but he loved the sting. Making sure you knew of his feelings each day, but you only smiled and walked away each time.

Then came the day at your stepmother’s mothers funeral. You didn’t look at him once and rushed off on your dragon. It was a sad day but no one saw you shed a tear but you looked terrifying, your face in a straight line and eyes filled with anger.

You stood with your father and sister most of the time to reconnect, you held their hands and let the cry on you but you still showing no sigh of grief. When your father laughed at the speech vaemond gave you smirked along beside him.

Aegon drank his way into his cups and watched you all night. He wanted to hold you close and tell you it was okay to feel emotional but you would just push him away. So he got so drunk and laid at the bottom of the stairs.

The last person he expected to come be with him was you. You took the ale from his hands and sat down next to him with a huff, “It seems your the only one here that isn’t throwing a sob story.” He smiled and sat straight up looking at you staring at the wall.

“I throw a sob story every day. Might as well give you a chance.” His heart tightness as you laughed. He had made you laugh. That captivating laugh. “Aegon, will you promise me something?” You turned to look at him.

“Anything.” He stared right into your eyes with honesty. You took his chin into your fingers and he lost his breath. “I know how you feel about me, never change that. I’ll reward you someday. But I am going to leave with my father so I have to leave you but I will come back to you in the dead of night.” Inching close to his face.

“You will only love me. Do you understand?” The grip on his chin tightened and your tone demanding. He gulped and moves his head and he agreed to do anything for you. “That’s a good prince.” You finally praised him and he felt like the world had gone away and it was just you.

You kissed his lips and he whimpered at the feeling. He tried to put his hand on your waist but you slapped it away and connected your fingers with his. You were so dominating and had full Control over him…He loved it.

You pulled back and got up while he tried to follow you his head was pounding and he fell back down. “You’ll be good for me Aegon wouldn’t you?“ you looked like a goddess standing above him. “Yes my love.” You hummed and walked away and that’s the last thing he remembered before blacking out.

The last time he saw you was in the main hall later that night, you held your sister behind your back and glared at his younger brother. He didn’t care, if he could he would be over there with you.

After everything that went down you found it amusing but he could see your anger at your sisters being hurt. You both shared a look before you left. It was a look to remind him of your words and his promises.

He’d always remember.

Aegon was torture with life and the fact he did not have you by his side anymore. But that didn’t stop him from his love getting worse. He found a away to send assassins to kill anyone who got close to you, they watched over you everyday. You being skilled knew that they were his but let them stay because it was just another part of your game.

Years went by and you grew into a young woman, body finally taking its form. And you used that against him at night. He would have to get on his knees and beg for you, saying the things he felt for you. “I belong to you.” He would always say. You treated him roughly, punishing him, making him cry and begging.

But he loves any attention you gave him and would do anything for it. He even swear if you wanted his brothers head on a spike he would give it to you. He meant it. Deep in the night you stripped him of his dignity and made him work for it.

He was going crazy without you being with him, drinking himself to doom each night you weren’t there and going to be with as many whores that looked like you in any resemblance. He kept a pillow you had laid on and threaten to kill anyone who washed it. 

He stole plans from his mother and otto and reported them to you, anything he remembered and heard he told you. I see Aegon being so obsessed he saw his family as just place holders until he has you.

Aegon was disappointed when you didn’t show up with your family at lukes hearing, had you not wish to see him? Had he done something to upset you. He thought he was doing a good job.

Later that morning he was hidden, kidnapped, tried to run away and sail to you, lost his father, and then crowned king.

Where the fuck were you?

Where had you been in all of this, why can’t he just do one normal thing and keep you happy. He didn’t want to become king, he just wanted to be with you. Until the crown was placed on his head and all we wanted was to be with you. How could he use this to get you to love him?

When you heard the news of everything that had happened you weren’t surprised. When they planned the war you just looked around at them waiting for the best moment to chime in.

It wasn’t until later when Jace volunteer for him and Luke to go get support. You stood up, “Send me to kingslanding. You will have the thrown and kingdom by the end of the day.” 

The way you said it make daemon realize this is what you had been working on your entire life. You had a puppet and you were going to pull its strings. He was so very proud of you.

Needless to say you went to aegons chambers that night. The next morning you had taken the crown and his love. He swore in front of thousand of people that he stepped down as king and placed Rhaenrya as heir. He was to cut of his marriage with his sister a wed you.

He threatened his family that if they tried to stop him and saying anything against his words he’d have then killed.

Yandere Aegon is only alive to serve you. 

[cookiesupplier]

Hell Ain't So Bad - Part Eight

pairing: Noah Sebastian x ofc (Ellie), 

warnings/tropes: slow burn, smut (eventually), angst, fluff, mentions of death, mentions of torture, thoughts of religious ideology, violence and swearing.

summary: Ellie was lost in the world, homeless with no idea what to do and nowhere to go.. Who would have thought that one day, she’d end up working in hell itself.. And what does this even mean?

author’s note: Unbetaed, readers beware.. if you want to chat with me about ideas/theories for this story, my asks are always open.

tags: @spicywhenspeaking @bngurngheart @cncohshit @valiantroeagleangel @blackveilomens @dominuslunae @tearfallpixie

Tags are open, ask if you'd like to be added, to this list specifically or in general.

Ellie would like it known, she did not know how this happened. She didn’t. Clearly the night got away from them, away from her. She’d been having fun with the guys, even talking to some of the girls at the bar, laughing, swapping stories about idiots they’d dated. Whether here or in the living world, it didn’t seem to make a difference really where they were from. Making fun of the idiots, some of them apparently were in the room with them when it came to some of the stories that the demon females were telling, much to the males' chagrin. 

Oh, to see the way some of their faces changed colour when they heard the stories that were being told as they poured back the shots at the bar, it was quite hilarious. Not just red faced, there was one demon that turned bright blue, but Ellie had a feeling that that was an entirely different story for another day.

Also, it had nothing to do with a predicament she now found herself in.

Actually, it might have everything to do with the predicament she found herself in.

She might just be a wee little bit tipsy and apparently had the need to be escorted back to her apartment building. Just to be sure she got back in one piece, of course.

Only this time she wasn’t being walked home by Jolly, or Folio. Nope. Folio had pretty much passed out at the bar with Jolly and Nicholas now carrying him out together, with Noah offering to walk her home, Noah. She didn’t want Noah to walk her home, with how many times Jolly had caught her half staring at him so far. Frankly she didn’t even want to think about why either, it was stupid, and ridiculous, so she tried to protest. Insisted she’d be just fine walking home on her own, only for Noah to ask her if she even had her address memorised yet, and she’d stared at him for a second too long, blinking.

“I thought so.”

Noah had rolled his eyes and looked back to the other boys with a knowing smirk, 

“I’ll get your new little pet home safe and sound boys, don’t you worry about her pretty little head any, she’ll be just fine.”

Patting her head patronisingly then, Ellie slapped his hand away from her then with a groan,

“Asshole.”

Stalking her way to the door of the bar herself, a bit wobbly on her feet but walking just fine thank you. She could and would walk home just fine. Mister I’m-way-too-fucking-tall-for-my-own-good could follow her all he liked if he wanted, but that was his prerogative. She didn’t need him, or his pretty boy face at all. She certainly didn’t need Jolly chuckling after as she stalked off either, shut up Jolly, this wasn’t funny.

Time to go. As she made for the exit of the bar, Noah stopped her from going any further from grabbing her arm, stopping her at the doorway, but when she pulled her arm out of his grip, she wobbled on her feet, and he immediately, reached for her shoulder to steady her as Jolly and Nicholas went past carrying Folio. Obviously he’d lost his game with Noah for the shots, by, a lot. He was a never say die when it came to his drinking games type it would seem. Beautiful thing about already being dead it would seem, you didn’t have to worry about alcohol poisoning. Made for a bitch of a hangover though according to Jolly, they were not going to like dealing with him tomorrow. Joy. 

Maybe she’d see if the hangover cure she used to make before she dropped out of college still works on souls that overdose on shots against idiot demons that are way too tall, and too sexy, and are now standing over her with that judgemental brooding stare. Well, she was going to have to make one for herself anyway, might as well try to make one for Folio as well, and just see if it worked. Then again, she didn’t even know if it would work on her, who knows what the liquor was like here in Hell!

Ellie refused to think about how it felt to have those long fingers grip her shoulder carefully as he’d steadied her, or the almost disappointment when they’d slipped away when she’d moved from Noah to start walking from the door down the footpath, him starting alongside her. A low chuckle came and she swore it was because he knew she was being stubborn. 

'Shut up.'

“You first.”

She spun to look at him with a gasp as he immediately responded to her thoughts, she knew it! There was no denying it now, no way in hell,

“Ha, gotcha! You guys can read minds, I knew it!”

The chuckle that came from Noah then had her eyes narrowing as she glared at him, he was just blatantly making fun of her and she didn’t like it. Okay, so she was probably just some pathetic human to him, a living human at that. One that hadn’t been able to survive in the normal world properly, she got it. Asshole. At least she wasn’t the one going around stealing peoples food when they gave it away here for free!

“Actually sorry to disappoint, but no, you, are just extremely easy to read. The tension in your shoulders as you walked, like a coil ready to spring, I just knew you wanted to lash out at me, it really isn’t hard to tell what you're thinking.”

Her shoulders squared then, Ellie huffed dramatically as she turned on her heel, damn him and his tension. She wasn’t feeling any tension. She wasn’t remotely coiled like a spring. Never mind that one look at him she felt like if he wanted he could probably do whatever he wanted with her including bending her in half while he did and she’d thank him for it.. Fuck.. Keep Walking Ellie.

Quick, quick, she needed to think of something else. Even if he couldn’t read her mind, apparently he could read her well enough that he at least seemed to be able to read her mind.

“Why do you look human?”

The words were just blurted out without thinking.

“Some demons look well, demon-like, then there is Nick who looks human, you look, well, now you look human, but before you didn’t.. What gives?”

There. Different subject. Completely different subject. Well, almost completely different subject. She didn’t want to think about the fact that it was connected to the fact that his face was so damn pretty, too pretty, the kind of idiot that she used to slap, his face, he was so pretty, it was horrible, and he knew it too. 

“I understand it with Nick, he works in the living world, but you, working here, are punishing people. Why do you look human?”

Noah walking beside her shrugged those broad shoulders a little. Those broad muscular shoulders, damn, was there anything about this man that wasn’t alluring. Sure so many demons she’d seen were interesting, whether they looked human or not, there was just something about them, but Noah was on a different level entirely. 

“From what I hear you’ve already learned about the illusion magic, well, this is more, shapeshifting of a sort. We can look how we please.”

Oh, oh, that had her laughing as she glanced to him as she walked, grinning wide,

“So you like this, you like looking like a stupid ass pretty boy, oh my god!”

She had to stop walking then, she was laughing, she was laughing so hard she was bending over her hands on her knees to support herself before she fell flat on her face. When she was laughing a thought struck her and a fresh peel of laughter hit her and she stood up looking towards him brightly,

“You’re practically a frat boy Demon Lord, damn, mister all, pretty boy, with your drinking games and drinking each other under the table, I mean, really Noah? Can you get more frat party boy, ohhhh!”

She was laughing, and the laughing was all she could do to cover her reaction to the low rough growl that was coming from Noah right then with that dark look as he stood over her like that. Oh god, please let him not be able to tell the way her body tensed, her thighs pressing together, breath catching in her throat as her heart skipped, damn frat boy party boy stupid demon lord.

“No, it just means that not everyone always sees me like, this.”

He just seemed to tower over her even more as his eyes seemed to flicker with fire for a moment like they had when his features had been more demonic in the bar, but other than that, his face didn’t change this time, just the flicker of fire in the colour of the iris of his eyes.

“Every demon is born looking, to a degree, less than human. The higher level a demon, the less human they appear, the encompassing their ah, shall we say demonic form. Those of us high enough, even in our human forms it cant be fully hidden, even with illusion and shapeshifting.”

Smirking as she couldn’t help but looking down at his body, she was trying not to study his form as he spoke, to see if she could see anything about him that would give away what he was saying. How his demonic nature couldn’t be fully hidden, what he meant. Chuckling and her eyes flew back up to hers as she knew she’d been caught practically ogling him as she’d been staring at his arms, exposed from his tank top.

“Bingo, tattoos, piercings, everything. Nicholas, myself, we’re practically covered even when we’re in our full human shift.”

Swallowing heavily, his full human shift. The way he said that made her think on the way he looked back in the bar when she’d snapped at his fingers and he’d reefed his hand back and it had shifted into vicious claws instead, claws he could have used on her so easily with the way he’d looked. Then again, he hadn’t, and she didn’t think he would have, even if the others hadn’t been there. No matter how he looked, under his skin, he wasn’t a monster, he wasn’t angry, demons might be considered evil by the living, but… all Noah did was make her feel…

“Full human shift, what about, fully demonic. What do you look like? Underneath all of that, what do you really look like, Noah?”

When she asked that, her voice caught when she said his name, his already dark eyes turning almost as black as coal, flickering again with that flame of the so-called typical fires of hell that most would talk about. Looking up to him, the way his presence washed over her caused her to shudder with an almost longing for him to touch, but she didn’t dare reach for him, that would give him too much power, and with that he blinked. One second they were outside on the footpath, and the next, they were outside her apartment. He’d teleported them. Her back was being pressed right against her door, Noah towering over her, his hand pressing against her door beside her head and leaning his body closer into hers but not quite touching her, his lips curling into a wry smirk,

“Oh, BabyGirl, you couldn’t handle it.”

Dividers by @saradika-graphics