#like not to get my hopes up about a show but im getting my hopes up about a show

[bbyquokka]

nerd in love

– after a misunderstanding, jisung finally tells yn how he feels at his birthday party .ᐟ.ᐟ

pairing | han jisung x fem reader

genre | mutual pining , fluff , uni au – 18+ is strongly advised!

cw | she/her pronouns used ; mostly in jisung pov ; food and alcohol mentioned ; a lil suggestive at the end

words | 10.1k ~ ( 10,133 )

notes | well, here it is! i started this before my break (which is why its so late) but finished it during my break n i just wanted to post it bc im proud of this n i adore this version of jisung n the friendship dynamics !! :( don’t forget to leave feedback, reblog and tell me what you think here. i hope you all enjoy! ‹3

m.list — wips list — you can also read it on my ao3

dont repost. dont translate. minors, ageless & default blogs; dni! feedback and reblogs are highly advised and appreciated!

your pen taps against the white, lined sheet of paper that has a few scribbles and doodles on. your cheek resting on your hand as you sigh a little in boredom. 

the professor has been groaning on and on about the same thing. you want to listen and take in the information as you know it's important, but your mind wanders and you start to daydream; making imaginary scenarios.

you'd imagine an alien suddenly abducting you because it heard your silent cries of boredom. you and the alien would become the best of friends, the alien showing you around it's space shuttle and inviting you to have some tea and cake before making friendship bracelets – because that's what humans do, right?

other times, you'd imagine a strong, buff greek god suddenly turning up in class. he'd walk to you and take your hand, claiming that you're his long lost bride, before carrying you bridal style and off into the sunset where you two would get married and have babies.

so caught up in your fake scenarios, you don't see that another student is now looking at you.

the student is sitting in front of you–his usual designated spot. black hair that's long and permed and covers his eyes. glasses sitting on the bridge of his nose. dressed in a button up shirt and black jeans, paired with a few accessories and black doc marten boots.

“excuse me.” he whispers, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose. “you're making too much noise.” he frowns.

you snap out of your daydream and sit up straight, wiping the imaginary drool from your chin with the back of your hand.

“o-oh.. sorry jisung.” you laugh awkwardly. he tuts and rolls his eyes before facing the front. you scoff a little and sit back in your seat.

you don't have very many friends in university, a small handful but it's enough and you don't have very many enemies either, but since jisung started the same class as you, he's been cold towards you.

he's not like this with other people, just you–it's like he can't stand you.

but for some reason, his cold, mean demeanour just makes you want him and find him even more attractive.

it's not a kink of yours, to be spoken down to and degraded. in fact, you love having the attention on you and being treated kindly and gently so it's unknown to you why you find him so attractive.

“alright class! that's all for today. you're all dismissed.” the teacher says. you silently cheer, packing up your things in your backpack.

jisung rises to his feet and swings his bag onto his shoulder, letting it rest there before pulling out his phone. you both catch eye contact with each other.

“see you tomorrow?” you say politely and smile. jisung quickly looks away and mumbles something before walking out in a rush.

maybe you're still daydreaming, but you swore you could see the tips of his ears turning a light shade of pink. 

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“fuck, i’m so late!” you alternate between running and speed walking your way to your class. your alarm didn't go off this morning so when you finally awoke, it was up and out in a flash. “i'm so screwed!”

today is an important day. the teacher was going to go over a few things on a test that's due in a few weeks so you really needed to attend it to get an idea–but alas, here you are. hair disheveled, dried up drool on your chin and your socks mismatched with your backpack hanging off your shoulder.

you breathe a sigh of relief before stopping in front of the lecture hall doors. you take a deep breath and fix yourself up before reaching out to open the doors.

the doors suddenly swing open. the students exiting the hall. you stand in the middle of the students as they walk around you, engaging in conversations with their friends.

you frown in confusion, looking at the time on your phone. your eyes widen even more, bulging from the sockets.

“oh wow.. i really fucked up.” you were a lot later than you thought.

you look up to see jisung looking at his phone. today he's in a plain, black t-shirt and skinny jeans. a few chains hanging around his neck and converse.

“hey, ji!” you call out. he looks up at whoever is calling him before his face twists into disgust when he realises it's you. you ignore this, mainly because he rushes past you.

you frown and chase after him, trying to keep up with his speed–but he's too fast.

“hey! wait! i know you heard me, ji!!”

“don’t call me that. my name is jisung.” he mumbles.

“ok ok, sorry! just, i need help!” 

“find it elsewhere.” his tone of voice is cold towards you; like always. again, you ignore it.

“please, i’m desperate! my alarm didn't go off and i clearly missed class! i know it was super important too and–can you slow down and listen to me?!” you huff.

jisung lets out an irritated sigh and looks at you; phone in one hand, earphones in the other. he stops in the middle of the corridor and looks at you.

you bend down, hands on your knees to catch your breath. 

“you being late has nothing to do with me. it's your own fault for being late.” he says, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose.

“yeah, i know.”

“you fucked up and now you want my help? how could i possibly help you?”

“i need your notes.”

“my notes? fuck no.” 

“oh please, ji… sorry–jisung. i really, really need this.” you pout. jisung groans and rubs the back of his neck.

“ok, fine.” he sighs in defeat. you're taken aback by how easy it was for him to surrender his notes over to you; but you don't complain. he takes his notebook out of his bag and hands it to you. you cheer and open it up, looking at the notes.

his handwriting is beautiful. his notes are easy to follow, however, you've come to the realisation that looking at notes isn't going to be enough for you to get the information to stick in your mind.

“make sure to give it to me by the end of the day. i’m usually at the library.” he says as you flick through his notes. “if you can't find me, find minho. he's my roommate.” 

you don't respond due to the fact that so much information is causing your brain to go into information overload. jisung sighs again and, as he is about to walk away, you grab his arm.

“wait!” you make a quick mental note of how soft his skin is and how muscular he feels. jisung looks at your hand that's on him, feeling heat quickly rise to his cheeks and his heart to thumb erratically in his chest.

“your hand.” he whispers. you lean in close to get a better understanding of what he just said.

“pardon?”

“hand. your hand. please remove it.”

“oh!” you quickly remove your hand from him. jisung clears his throat and looks down, hoping that his long hair covers his face to hide the blush that's happily sitting on his cheeks.

you see it though and make a note of how adorable he looks. you feel your own heartbeat skipping beats and beating erratically but you put it down to you having to sprint to class.

“i don't think this will be enough.” you start. he looks up at you. “the notes.. i don't think it's going to be enough.”

“well, there's a library and also the internet. there’s this thing called google, so use that.”

“teach me.” his eyes widen in shock.

“t-teach you?! fuck no, yn!”

“please, jisung! just until the test is over! i really, really need this. i’m desperate and, although your notes are so perfect, it's going to take a lot more than notes for me to understand it!”

“then ask the tutor for a one-on-one! or ask your friend!!” he stutters in shock. his cheeks are now bright red.

“you know the tutor doesn't do one-on-ones and my friends don't even take this class! oh please, jisung. pleeeaseee. pretty pretty pleeease.” you pout, giving him puppy eyes.

“yn…”

“i’ll buy you your coffee everyday for a full month.”

“... just my coffee?”

“what sweet treat do you like?”

“...cheesecake.” he answers reluctantly.

“then coffee and cheesecake on me for a full month!” jisung runs his fingers through his hair slowly, a soft, defeated sigh leaving his lips as he contemplates.

“you really need this, huh.” you nod your head fast to the point of dizziness. “you drive a hard bargain, yn. but fine.”

you cheer and grin widely.

“on some conditions though.”

“what?”

“we study in the library, you don't be late and we only do this until the test is over! after that, i won't teach you anymore.”

“yes sir.” you salute. “oh, do you want my contact information? might make it easier to set up study dates.”

“study dates?” 

“yeah! i assume we have different schedules due to different classes, so it's better to text or call each other so we know when to meet up!”

“true.. ok, fine. give me.” you tell jisung your contact information. he phones you and you smile as you save his contact information.

“thank you so much, jisung! you're the best!” you say before sprinting off to find your friend leaving a flustered jisung bewildered in the middle of the corridor.

“study dates, huh.. i kinda like that.” 

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“dude, chill. you're just going to the library to study” jisung’s roommate laughs as he watches jisung scurrying around the place as he packs his bag. 

minho is relaxing on jisung’s bed, shirtless and in sweats with round glasses sitting on the bridge of his nose whilst eating an ice pop. him and jisung have been the best of friends since university started and he became jisung’s roommate.

since then, they've both been inseparable. many people speculate that something is going on between the two of them, indicating a relationship–minsung, they call them.

“i am chill.” jisung mumbles as he shoves in a few too many pens into his pencil case.

“yeah, suuuure.” minho laughs as he licks and sucks on his popsicle. “i’ve watched you run around the place like a headless chicken.”

“dude, please hush.” jisung looks at minho just as some sticky sweet ice drops onto minho's chest. he scoops it up with his fingers and eats it. jisungs sighs “do you have to eat that on my bed?”

“yeah. problem?” minho smirks

“yes. quite a few actually. you're going to get the sheets sticky!” jisung whines.

“not the first time i've heard that.” minho laughs at his own joke. jisung rolls his eyes but the corner of his lips turn upright into a smile as he holds back his laugh.

“you're disgusting.”

“yeah? and you're a mess right now, bro.” minho places the wooden popsicle stick on jisung's side table before swinging his legs around to plant his feet on the floor.

he stands and walks to jisung, ruffling his hair a few times.

“you're just going to study, that's all. it's not that big of a deal, bro. unless….” minho smirks and wiggles his brows at jisung.

“unless what? what are you implying, minho?” jisung says as he crosses his arms across his chest and raises his brow.

“unless you, oh i don't know, like her.” jisung's eyes widen a little and he clears his throat, turning his head to avoid eye contact with minho. “aha!! i knew it! you do like ‘em!”

“no, i don't. fuck off, minho.” jisung mumbles and rushes to his desk, messing and organizing a few things to ‘look busy.’

minho skips over to jisung with a smirk. “c’mon ji. we all know you've been smitten with yn since the very beginning. it's soooo obvious!”

“dude, please. i don't like her like that. and it's jisung–not ji!”

“ahuh. whatever you say, dude.” minho laughs. 

“plus, she probably doesn't like me in that way..” jisung mumbles before sighing softly.

“have you asked her that?”

“well… no but–”

“then how do you know?” 

“i just do, ok?! enough with the questions, minho. don't you have that media assignment to do or something?”

“nope.” minho says, popping the p in an obnoxious way. “all done, which means i am a free man.”

“no one is a ‘free man’ in university, minho.” jisung laughs. 

“ugh, you're right. even though one assignment is done, i still have a gazillion more.” minho runs his fingers through his long, shaggy hair. “speaking of which, i best start with at least one of them.”

“good luck, man. you'll do great.” jisung says sarcastically, paring it with a sarcastic grin.

“fuck you. good luck with yn, jisung.” minho turns around and walks out of jisung's bedroom. “hope you get laid!” he shouts.

“fuck you.” jisung laughs. minho sticks his middle finger up at jisung before laughing and closing his bedroom door.

with the last of his things packed, he zips up his back. he checks one last time in the mirror, fixing his hair and spraying his best perfume onto his neck. he puts his hand up to his mouth, huffing on it before sniffing. pulling a face, he grabs a mint and pops it into his mouth, sucking on it as he puts on his shoes and a leather jacket.

“it’s just a study thing. it's not that serious. calm down, jisung.” he mumbles as he laces up his shoes.

but he can't stop his heartbeat from thumping loudly against his ribcage and excitement to rush through his body. his excitement is so big, it makes him shake. 

“it’s not a big deal. she probably doesn't like you that way.” he continues to mumble in an attempt to calm himself down as he takes one last look in the mirror. a smile slowly creeps up onto his face and a small squeal escapes from the back of his throat.

“fuck! i’m so screwed.” 

minho hears this and laughs at his friend's excitement before putting on his headphones. if there's one thing minho loves, is seeing his best friend happy and over the moon. he just hopes he won't get hurt.

“cute.” minho says to himself before typing away at his keyboard. jisung leaves the bedroom and shouts a goodbye to minho before heading out to the library.

nervous doesn't describe how jisung is feeling. as he walks to the library, his legs start to feel like jelly and the urge to turn back strong the closer he gets to his destination. he hopes that you're not there first just so he has time to calm himself down.

he even tries to listen to music in hopes that it would calm him down somewhat. but the soothing sounds of violins and cellos do nothing (he even tried listen to a few seconds of whale noises but even that was useless)

“we’re just studying. nothing more.” he repeats under his breath as he walks inside the library.

the place is nicely decorated, modern with a hint of an historic touch. students at tables and little cubicles, headphones on and studying. some in groups, whispering as they do projects of various kinds. some making the most of how quiet it is to take a quick nap. the occasional rustling of snack packets paired with the occasional crunch breaks the silence every so often.

it's silent but it's lively.

jisung says a few hellos to some students he recognises (either from classes they take together or them being minho's friends) as he searches the area for you.

his heart thumping as he searches. he silently cheers when he can't see you because he has a chance to calm down, but, as he walks to an empty table at the very back of the room, his victory is cut short as he sees you sitting there; ready and waiting.

you have your back to him (and to everyone else) and you're hunched over your notebook. jacket resting on the back seat with your bag on the floor, by your side. jisung takes a quick, small peek over your shoulder to see what you're doing only to see small, quick doodles on the page from boredom.

his heart swells a little as it's another thing he's learnt about you. just when he thinks you couldn't get any more perfect.

“hey, yn.” he whispers only to realise that you won't hear him no matter how many times he calls for you due to the music that's blasting from your earphones. he makes a quick mental note of who you're listening to before trying to get your attention again.

“hey, yn.” he places his hand on your shoulder to which you jump at, causing jisung to jump at your reaction. you look behind you as you take out your earbuds, sighing in relief.

“jesus, jisung. you frightened me.” 

“sorry, yn. i didn't mean to.”

“no, it's ok. my music may have been a little too loud.” you laugh as you put them away and jisung sits next to you on one of the chairs.

“you know you'll get tinnitus if you keep doing that.” 

“yeah… i know. it's a bad habit but music sounds better loud, y‘know!” jisung nods in agreement before pulling out his notebook and pencil case.

you watch him lean down. you take the time to admire him. his hair soft and fluffy. you have to resist the urge to run your fingers through it. a faint smell of strawberries and flowers emits from his hair; a sickly sweet yet pleasant smell.

his skin is dewy and perfect; not a blemish in sight. a beauty mark sits close to his lips. it's a small mark so it's no wonder you never recognised it before.

you notice the way his biceps bulge and flex with every motion of his arms. the chains from his neck dangle a little and his aftershave wafts towards you and tickles your nose hairs.

“you smell so good.“ you mumble. jisung looks at you.

“excuse me?”

“you smell so fucking good.” you repeat and lean in close to him. your hair tickles his jawline and chin as you smell the skin of his neck. “what do you use?”

“...i–urm, i don't know. i just picked it up when i was shopping.” you hum and nod. jisungs soft cheeks slowly start to feel very hot. “personal space, yn. ever heard of it?”

“oh!! sorry. my bad. i didn't mean to make you uncomfortable.” you laugh awkwardly as a awkward silence falls upon you both.

jisung turns his head away from you so you can't see him but his cheeks are very red and hot as his heart beats fast. 

you were so close to him. so very, very close. he thought he was going to have a heart attack. he could smell you and to him, you smell so delicious and sweet; like vanilla cheesecake. 

“this is not good for my heart.” he mumbles to himself. 

“by the way” you begin. jisung looks at you. you slide a cold coffee and cheesecake in the middle of you both. “told you i’d stick to my end of the bargain.”

“i didn't expect you to do it so soon, yn. it's only the first session.”

you shrug. “a deals a deal.” jisung takes the cheesecake and coffee, sipping on it and humming softly as the bitter, cold taste coats his tastebuds and the caffeine enters his system.

“i didn't know what flavoured cheesecake you like so i hope it's ok.”

“what flavour is it?”

“strawberry”

“mhm, not bad.”

“you don't like strawberry?” you say with a small pout. he shrugs.

“it's fine. not the worst. but it's too sweet for me. i’m a vanilla kinda guy.”

“aah, ok. i’ll make a mental note of that.” you say as you tap your temple, laughing softly. jisung lets out a small puff of air from his nose. you see the corner of his lips curl into a small and that makes you feel like he's accepted you.

“now, enough chitchat. i actually want to be done in a decent time so, let's begin?”

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“sooooo” jisung looks up at minho, his chopsticks half hanging from his mouth, resting on his bottom lip.

the smell of spicy, instant ramen fills the air. minho cooked some food for the two of them as they have both been studying hard for upcoming tests and assignments. 

instant ramen with a slice of cheese on top. rice cakes, fish cakes and other yummy goodnesss swim in the broth. the kitchen looks a mess, pots and pans scattered everywhere–it contributes to the rest of the dorm with the various clothing and shoes scattered around.

“soooo…” jisung repeats, eyebrows raised. his bangs are tied back in a pink hair tie (your pink hair tie), a white vest top and sweats on his body. minho is also in sweats but with an anime print t-shirt and a sanrio clip to hold back his bangs and a pore strip on his nose; getting tighter and tighter by the second.

“have you asked her yet?”

“asked her what?” jisung takes some noodles and a fish cake, putting them on a small, separate plate before grabbing some kimchi.

“dude.” minho rolls his eyes and lets out a long, irritable groan. “for being smart, you sure are dumb.”

“you're just dumb through and through.” jisung smiles playfully as minho sticks his middle finger up at his best friend.

“fuck you.” minho takes a rice cake that's soaked in the ramen broth. he chews it, the sound of sticky, chewy rice cake emits from his mouth. “anyways! have you asked yn about the party?”

jisung lets out a slow grunt. “not this again, minho.” 

“what?!” minho says with a shrug as he continues to chew and talk.

“i already told you, and eeeeveryone else. i don't want a party or anything of the sort, minho. i just want it to be a nice, quiet day.” jisung’s eyes drift to the half chewed rice cake that's being tossed around in minho's mouth. he pulls a face in disgust. “and can you please not talk with your mouth full?”

“you're such a prude.” minho rolls his eyes but swallows his food regardless. “anyways, you know me, changbin and chan won't let you have a quiet birthday!”

“yeah, no shit.” jisung rolls his eyes as he slurps on his noodles. he wipes his mouth with a napkin before munching on some kimchi. “still don't understand why you all decided to plan a birthday party without my knowledge knowing full well i said no in the beginning.”

“dude, you're so boring.” minho jests. “it's your birthday!” he emphasise. “you're supposed to have a party, eat lots of cake and junk. drink beer, hang out with friends and maybe, get laid.”

he wiggles his eyebrows at jisung and laughs softly. with a heavy sigh, jisung puts his chopsticks down.

“no matter what, you're going to go through with this, aren't you?” 

“yup!” minho obnoxiously pops the P. “plus, things have already been ordered and organised for it. we already have a few people who confirmed they're attending.”

“who?”

“mhm–” minho puts down his chopsticks and thinks, looking at the ceiling as he does. “felix from fashion design. hyunjin from art. seungmin from business studies and jeongin who is also from fashion design.”

“how do you know all these people?”

“well, unlike some–” minho's eyes widen as he looks at jisung, indicating he's talking about him in particular “–some of us actually get out. plus, chan is like a social butterfly and changbin is charismatic. put them two together and well, people can't say no.”

“yeah, true. i remember when they begged me to work on a track or something for their music assignment.” 

“they both practically dragged you to do it.” minho laughs.

“only because you told them i said yes without me knowing about the situation!”

“because i knew you'd say no! you have a talent for this stuff, jisung. don't let it go to waste.”

“thanks.” he mumbles, hanging his head low in embarrassment and awkwardness.

“is that… is that a blush i see?!” minho smirks.

“me? blush? for you?! hell no!” jisung frowns. “the ramen is spicy, that's all.”

“dude… it's mild.”

“...fuck you.”

“so, are you going to ask yn or nah?”

“if it gets you and everyone else off my back, then sure”

“good. make sure you do!” jisung opens and closes his hand, mimicking minho's yapping.

“yeah yeah yeah. can we stop talking about this party and eat?”

“just looking out for ya, man. i know how much you like ‘em!” 

“i know. i appreciate it, minho.” minho nods and continues eating the ramen. jisung, on the other hand, is now lost in thought.

how the hell is he going to get the courage to ask you something like that?

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the study sessions are slowly coming to end. you kept up with your end of the deal, providing jisung with an endless amount of coffees and cheesecakes whilst he has provided you with an endless amount of insights.

one thing you have learnt about him is that he is smart. he knows how to do things with just a quick glance. he's good at explaining things so it's not confusing. 

you've been stuck on a problem for some time and no amount of teachers advice and youtube videos helped you. all it took was five minutes of jisung explaining the solution and it clicked.

today, however, you are alone in the library. jisung messaged you to let you know that he wasn't going to make it. you felt sad and a little heartbroken–you’ve become so accustomed to jisung's presence that you feel a little cold and lonely right now.

you can't concentrate. the music you're blasting down your ears isn't helping either. the text in your book is slowly starting to merge into one big splooge of text. the information just isn't getting through to you and it's frustrating.

you sit back in your seat and sigh as you take your headphones off and throw them on the table. 

“this is pointless.” you mumble. “i can't concentrate. maybe i should just skip it.”

you take your phone and browse through social media before subconsciously opening up the food app. your mouth salivates as you look at the various burgers, fries, pizza and sweet treats–and then your stomach growls.

“maybe i’m just hungry. that's why i can't concentrate.” you pack your things and head to the university cafeteria. the menu looks dull so you settle on a simple sandwich and drink.

the cafeteria is packed. the atmosphere is buzzing with the endless chatter of students. you take your seat and pick up your sandwich.

it's a standard ham salad sandwich with some dressing on. the slices of ham and lettuce (too much lettuce for that matter), tomatoes and other salad stuff squished together by two slices of thick, white bread, smothered in dressing.

you take a few bites. it's ok. it's not bad but you've had better. the bread is a little dry for your liking but the dressing takes that away. you open the cap of your bottled drink and take a few swigs to help wash it down.

“what do we have here?” you turn your head in the direction of the voice–that thick aussie accent you know all too well.

“ew. go away chan. you're disturbing my peace.” 

“charming. don't think that's something you should say to someone you haven't seen in a while.” he says with a pout as he walks to your table and sits down. he's joined by another man, a friend of his, perhaps. he sits opposite you.

“and whose fault is that, huh? maybe if you answered my calls or texts every once in a while.”

“sorry, yn. i’m just a busy man, y’know.” chan grins as he leans back in his seat, brimming with confidence.

“yeah. too busy being the campus whore.”

“blah blah blah. least i’m getting some.” he elbows you in the side a few times. “what are you getting, huh?” he jests.

“a degree? y'know that thing i came here for in the first place.”

“oh ha ha. very funny, yn.” chan mocks, rolling his eyes at you before stealing your sandwich and taking a bite.

the male opposite you clears his throat as a way of telling you both “hi, i’m still here.”

“oh! yn, this is minho. minho, yn.” minho's eyes widen a little and his lips twitch into a small smile.

“so, you're yn. nice to put a face to the name.“ he grins.

“you know me?” you blink a few times in confusion.

“i’m jisung’s roommate.” you mentally slap yourself. of course!

“oh my god. i’m so sorry. i didn't realise! i’m so bad with names.” you whine. minho laughs and brushes it off.

“and how do you know jisung, yn?” chan says with a mouthful of food; your food to be exact. you glare at him, daggers darting out of your eyes and straight into chan as you snatch your sandwich back off him.

“jisung’s my private tutor as of right now.”

“oh.” chan nods before his eyes suddenly light up. he looks at minho for confirmation. “wait, hold up.”

minho nods and smirks. “nah. really?!” you watch the two men talk in code as they communicate by facial expressions and a stings of “ohs” and “yeahs”

“uh, hello. i’m still here!” minho laughs softly.

“sorry, yn.” you shrug it off and eat your sandwich. “how do you two know each other by the way. chan has never mentioned you before.”

“good. keep it that way.” you say coldly, mainly aiming it at chan. chan pouts and nuzzles into you, head on shoulder. he looks at you with puppy eyes and a pout.

“aww. don't be like that, bestie. you secretly love me.” you flick his forehead.

“me and chan are childhood friends. haven't been able to get rid of him since.” chan smiles at your sweet implication. “he's like a parasite. or a fruit fly in the summer.” his smile drops and now, it's your turn to give chan a big, sarcastic grin–teeth and all.

“rude.” he mumbles. you shrug and finish off your sandwich. 

“so, jisung is your tutor.” minho speaks. you nod.  “are you attending his party?” 

“party? what party?” you look at chan and minho. minho sighs a little and runs his fingers through his hair.

“i warned him.” he mumbles under his breath in irritation before looking at you and smiling softly. “me, chan and a few others are organising a birthday party for jisung.”

“his birthday is coming up?!” your eyes widen. “when? i should get him a gift”

“14th.”

“14th?! that's pretty soon.” you mumble.

“jisung told me he would invite you.” you shake your head no. minho rubs the back of his neck. “well, this is awkward.” 

“it’s ok. maybe he has his reasons as to why he didn't mention it to me. no biggie.” you say with a smile. minho nods before a few minutes of silence dawn upon the three of you.

“out of curiosity.” you break the silence. “how is jisung in general?” minho tilts his head to the side. “it's just he seems so….” you think for a second, thinking of the right (and nice) word to use “... cold towards me.”

“cold?” 

“mhm. he seems so bitter towards me and i don't know why. we barely even talked in class but when we did, he would always tell me i’m making too much noise and to hush.” you slowly start to feel slightly irritated. 

“jisung is fine with me.” he says with a. shrug. “he's pretty chill around me.” you huff.

“i know he can be friendly because whenever i see him in the corridors talking to someone, he smiles and is so friendly!”

“what’s he likes now, yn?”

“well, now that we've been spending more time with each other, he's… i don't know… avoiding me to some degree? he won't make eye contact with me. he doesn't like it when i touch him.”

chan raises his brow and looks at minho, both men thinking the same thing. chan puts you in a gentle headlock and ruffles your hair.

“hey!! get off me!!” you push chan a few times, using all your strength to make him release you.

“you're pretty naive, yn.” chan laughs, continuing to ruffle your hair. he ignores your screams and yells, minho laughing at the two of you.

finally, chan let's you go. you push him with all the strength you have left before fixing your hair and glaring at him. chan pouts and nuzzles into you once again.

“i’m sorry, yn. forgive me?” he puckers his lips and makes kissing noises, edging closer and closer to you. you hold him at arm's length.

“ok ok!! just quit doing that!!” chan laughs and pats your head gently.

as fast as he was in the cafeteria, jisung is soon out of it after seeing you and chan, with nothing but festering jealousy in his stomach.

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you bounce through the library to your designated spot at the very back, coffee and cheesecake in each hand with your bag swinging on your shoulder.

jisung is there, punctual, as always. but something seems a little off. the air around him seems thick and suffocating–dark even. 

“hey!” your cheerful voice ringing in his ears, making his heart beat fast. you sit next to him and slide over the coffee and cheesecake.

today he's dressed in a yellow and orange flannel shirt and white tank-top. black jeans and boots to accommodate. a few of his nails are painted in black, chipping from wear and tear.

he gives you a cold nod of the head. you frown a little but choose to ignore it as you take your books and pens out of your bag.

“so, what's the plan for today?” jisung shrugs. “...ok, well how about we go over that question i was struggling with?”

“k” he reluctantly moves closer to you. the scent of cinnamon and vanilla wafts towards you and tickles your nostrils, making you let out a small hum of satisfaction.

“you smell good, jisung.”

“mhm, thanks.” you let out a silent sigh. something is wrong with him and you don't know why. is it something you've done? something you haven't done? 

jisung is being very dry and sour with you. his usual method of teaching you is that he would go into detail and repeat until you'd understand it, today, however, he's very short and sharp.

“i don't understand.” you say. jisung sighs, a long irritated sigh. you bite your lip, thinking that you've done something to hurt him in any possible way.

“what don't you get?”

“all of it…” he sighs again and rubs his face. his eyebrows furrow together in irritation. the jealousy he is feeling in his stomach is festering, becoming more and more intense.

every time he looks at you, he is reminded of the way you and chan were together. he hates that. how could you fall for someone like chan? he thought you were better than that. his head swimming with negative and harsh thoughts.

before he can stop himself, the words just spill without any control. “why don't you get chan to do it for you.”

you blink. “chan? what does he have to do with this?”

“i mean, you two are close are you not?”

“i mean.. well, yeah, i guess.” you shrug. “he does get on my nerves sometimes though. he is such a pain! but he's a good gu–”

“i thought you were better than that, yn.’ he spits.

“the fuck is that supposed to mean?” you feel the bubbling of rage in your stomach as you stare at jisung, who stares at you back. the jealousy has consumed his body and it's too late to back out now.

“as in, i thought you had standards. chan? of all people? he's a whore, yn. everyone knows that he sleeps around on campus and you chose him?!”

“i don't appreciate the way you're talking about him, jisung.”

“it’s the truth, yn! and you know it so why are you with him?! you can do sooo much better than him!!”

“oh yeah?” you challenge. “then who is good for me, mhm? please, enlighten me?” 

jisung freezes. he looks away and chews his bottom lip. you scoff and pack your things in a hurry.

“i don't have to listen to this bullshit. you've been in a shit mood with me this whole time, which is fine. everyone has bad days. what's not ok, however, is you taking it out on me and bad mouthing the people i care about.” you stand up, swinging your bag onto your shoulder. jisung stares at one spot of the desk, burning holes into it. “text me when you're in a better mood.”

you walk out, leaving jisung to think about what he has just done.

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“jisunggggg. sungieeee. knock, knock. let me innn!” the sound of minho's high-pitched, cheery voice irritates jisung to the bone. he lets out a slow and irritated groan, hot puffs of air slowly exhaling from his nostrils.

he pushes his glasses up his nose and runs his fingers through his unwashed hair. sitting at his desk in the same baggy band t-shirt and sweats from a few days ago, he checks his phone for the nth time, only to be disappointed.

he hasn't spoken to you nor seen you since that day. in class, it's worse. he's tried to catch your eye a few times, smiling when he does, only for you to turn away. he spent days loathing in his own self pity, locking himself up in his room and only coming out for food, bathroom breaks and class.

minho has had enough. not only is jisung's mood ruining the atmosphere, but minho has no idea as to what happened that day. he was home when jisung came back to the dorm, looking like he was on the verge of tears. 

when he asked, jisung always gave the same answer of “mind your own business.”–and he has; for several days now.

“let me in, jisung.” the repetitive sounds of minho's knuckles against the wood door cause jisung's stomach to bubble more intensely with anger–until he finally snaps.

he rushes to the door and swings it open, brows furrowed together. minho's smug grin makes him foam at the mouth.

“what part of leave me alone don't you understand, minho?” jisung's words dripping with poison. minho shrugs it off.

“all of it.” he pushes past jisung, making himself at home in his bedroom. jisung has no time to protest, all he can do is watch his best friend jump on his bed and rest on his back, arms behind his head.

with a heavy sigh, jisung walks back to his desk. he turns his back on him, hoping that if he ignores his friend, he will get bored and eventually leave. minho watches his friend pick up and put down his phone several times to the point where minho feels irritated by it.

“so?” minho starts

“so?” jisung repeats

“going to tell me what's happened? haven't seen you this down in a while.”

“nope. i'm good.”

“you can't keep moping around the place, jisung.”

“i can and i will.” minho groans and stands up, walking out of the bedroom. jisung mentally cheers only for it to be cut short when minho throws his jacket at jisung.

“put it on.” it's more of a demand than a sentence, but nonetheless, jisung obliges because if he doesn't, minho will force it on him.

“where are we going?”

“to the cafe.” minho puts on his shoes, jisung following suit.

“aah, dude.. i don't really fe–”

“shut up, we're going to the cafe whether you want to or not. a change of scenery might cheer your moody ass up because, to be quite honest, i’m tired of seeing your gloomy ass face.” he looks at jisung who is frowning at him. “in the nicest way possible, of course.”

jisung rolls his eyes before following minho to the local (and one of his favourite) cafes. 

it's a small, local café with an old fashioned sense of style to it. the tables and chairs are worn. cushions on the chairs losing their stuffing and the tables scratched and chipped. the décor is outdated, indicating that the café has been there for quite a few years; but it feels like home to some.

the bell above the door chimes as minho and jisung walk in. they walk to the counter and say their orders before taking their lunch and drinks and sitting at a table.

jisung takes a sip of the coffee. he feels the ice cold beverage trickling down his esophagus and into his empty stomach. minho munches on his chicken salad sandwich, watching his friend look in his drink and ponder.

“i fucked up.” jisung mumbles, lost in thought. the more he thinks about you, the more he can feel the tears threaten to spill down his cheeks. minho tilts his head to the side and as he is about to open his mouth and encourage his friend to continue, a familiar sound in the form of a laugh causes jisung's head to shoot up and look in that direction.

his eyes widen. he feels relief and happy to see a smile finally on your face; but then that same, the green monster in the form of jealousy parks itself on his shoulder and starts whispering in his ear.

minho watches jisung's jaw muscles clench. his facial expression goes from relief to jealousy. minho follows jisung's gaze and raises his brow at the sight of you and chan.

chan is being his usual, goofy self. he's telling you typical dad jokes and being a little grotest by telling you his latest hook-up details. you push him by the arm and roll your eyes, sipping your coffee in the process. chan continues to joke around with you, play fighting a little by wrapping his arm around the back of your neck loosely and rubbing the top of your head with his knuckles.

“i can't fucking stand this.” jisung mutters bitterly under his breath. minho turns and looks at his friend who is green with jealousy.

“stand what?”

“seeing someone as precious and innocent as yn be with someone like chan!” minho blinks a few times.

“what do you… jisung, what do you think yn and chans relationship is?”

“isnt it obvious? they're going out!” minho gives jisung a few blank stares and blinks before bursting out into laughter, choking on his own saliva in the process. “what?!” 

jisungs cheeks flush red with embarrassment but also with anger. his own friend laughing at his statement, finding amusement in his sorrows.

“are you serious? please tell me you're joking?” minho stutters through his giggles.

“dead serious.” jisung says, deadpan. “don't you see the way they are with each other? i saw you all the other day, in the cafeteria! chan's arm around yn and them being all…. lovey!!” 

“oh my god.” minho calms himself down. “you really are serious!”

“i told you! i even asked yn about it and well… it didn't go so well.”

“is that why you've been so moody and upset lately?” jisung nods his head slowly, feeling some type of guilt. minho sighs heavily, wondering how he can soften the blow of the news he's about to give his best friend.

“jisung…” minho starts. “yn and chan are not dating.” jisung's face drops.

“excuse me?”

“they're not dating. they're just childhood best friends. apparently they've known each other since they were kids. “

“so you're telling me.. that i got it all wrong when i saw you three in the cafeteria?“ minho slowly nods whilst giving a sympathetic smile. jisung sits back in his seat in disbelief. “why did chan never mention yn?! fuck, i fucked up… i really, really fucked up…” 

“oh, c’mon. it can't be that bad.” minho tries to lighten the situation.

“dude. i told her i thought she had standards! i called her best friend a whore!”

“i mean, chan is a whore. he knows he is and he doesn't hid–”

“dude, please.” jisung interrupts. “not right now.” minho shrugs and sips his coffee whilst jisung rubs his face whilst groaning. “what do i do?”

“well.” minho puts down his coffee. “you make it right. admit you were in the wrong. explain how you were a jealous lil guy because you like her and that you fucked up.”

“and how do i do that? she’s been avoiding me for weeks and it’s not like i can go up to her right now and be like oh hey yn, sorry i called your best friend a whore oh, by the way, i like you.” jisung mocks himself in a high pitched voice, his face turning red in frustration.

“you're so dramatic.” minho rolls his eyes with a soft, yet heavy sigh. “for a smart guy, you're pretty dumb too.”

“pft, am not!” jisung scoffs and folds his arms across his chest. “... only when it comes to stuff like this.” he mumbles. “i just… don't know what to do or how to fix it. i really, really like her, minho.”

“ok? and? what do you want me to do about it? there's no point telling me about your feelings for yn. i'm not the one that fucked up and then decided to hold myself up in my room to drown in my own self-pity.” minho says with a shrug.

to the outside world, minho's words sound harsh but to jisung, it's a reality check. 

he sighs softly for the nth time as he glances over at you. he watches you laugh and smile with chan, soaking in your beauty and the way you glow with happiness. 

“to make it easier for you.” minho breaks the few seconds of silence between the two, feeling a little responsible for his friend in need. “i may have mentioned your birthday party to yn.”

“what?! why?”

“bro, you weren't going to mention it! so i just.. did you a favour.” minho shrugs, a smug look on his face.

“... is she coming?”

minho shrugs. “dunno. she seemed interested at least but this was before you called her best friend a whore so–”

“that was an accident. i didn't mean to.. i just got too–”

“worked up? jealous perhaps?” minho says, or rather states, with a raised brow. jisung hums and nods his head slowly, teeth chewing on his bottom lip. 

minho chews on his straw as he watches his friend think. he can see the cogs turning in jisung's skull. jisung is inexperienced when it comes to relationships so seeing him like this, brings minho slight amusement.

“look, jisung. if she turns up, you approach her and apologise whilst also telling her how you feel.” minho holds his hand up to jisung who is just about to protest but is quick to close his mouth and listen. “if she doesn't turn up, you find her the next day, apologise and tell her how you feel. heck, text her if you have to!”

“dude… you know i can't do that!”

“ok. then you have the other option, which is to keep wallowing in your self pity and watch yn from the sidelines.” minho shrugs. “i don't know dude. be the main character for once. you clearly like her so take the chance.”

────⋆⋅☆⋅⋆──────⋆⋅☆⋅⋆──────⋆⋅☆⋅⋆──

jisung's birthday rolled around. you haven't heard nor spoken to him since the argument so you didn't originally plan on turning up to his birthday party; but chan being chan is forcing you to go as his plus one.

“is this ok?” you smooth down your party outfit as you present yourself to chan. chan is sitting at your dressing table, dressed in blue, skinny jeans, a compression shirt that hugs and molds his muscles and combat boots. a silver chain around his neck, earrings in one ear and a few rings on his fingers.

he looks up from his phone and smirks playfully. he wolf whistles at you to which you scoff and roll your eyes at.

“looking good there, yn.”

“really? i threw this together at the last minute.’

“you look great, don't worry. you're gonna knock ‘em dead.” chan laughs.

“i really don't want to go, chan.” you groan.

“weeeell, too late. you're coming with me to this party, even if i have to throw you over my shoulder and carry you there.”

chan has heard about your little argument with jisung from minho. the two of them had a drink together during the week and chan listened to minho vent about jisung.

once minho mentioned the fight did it all come together. you've been feeling down and withdrawn, not knowing what to do or how to deal with your feelings. you've put on a fake smile and basically faked your way through the weeks–but chan has known you for years so he can see through you, he just didn't want to press you.

you'll come to him when the time is right; you always do.

“do i have to?” you ask for the nth time whilst putting on your shoes. chan laughs at your contradicting actions and shakes his head before standing up.

“yes, you do. it'll be fun and hopefully, it'll lift your spirits.” you pout.

“i have been a little moody lately, haven't i?” chan raises his brows and scoffs.

“a little!? pur-lease! i thought knives were going to spawn out of your eyes at one point.”

“mhm.. i’m sorry chan. it's just been a long couple of weeks with a lot of thinking.” you sigh softly. chan elbows your side gently.

“hey. let's not think about that right now. let's go to this party, have a couple of drinks and a dance, yeah?” you nod slowly.

“not like i have a say in this.”

“that's my girl. now.” chan grabs your hand gently and pulls you to the front door. “let's go have some fuuuun!!!”

────⋆⋅☆⋅⋆──────⋆⋅☆⋅⋆──────⋆⋅☆⋅⋆──

it's loud. the bass of the music rings in your ears and shakes the ground beneath you.

it smells. the stench of stale cigarettes, sweat and alcohol tickles your nostrils and causes you to feel lightheaded and nauseous.

you've tried several times to turn away and head back but chan was always right there.

chan abandoned you to go chat up some girls so you're sat on the sofa, surrounded by people making out, drinking or passing out (if they haven't already)

you hold your red, plastic solo cup which is filled halfway with some punch. the smell is pungent and the taste is awful. it's too strong for your liking so you take small, delicate sips.

as the night rolls on, you have yet to see jisung. not that you want to but, it would help you feel some comfort and less suffocated to see a familiar face.

you glance at your phone screen. 11:20 pm. it's soon time for you to leave. you don't want to be here any longer than you have to and considering that chan has left you alone, you don't feel the need to be here any more.

you stand up from the couch to walk to the kitchen. you shimmy your way in and out of crowds of people who are dancing, talking or making out with someone that they won't remember tomorrow.

you pour your drink down the sink and throw away your empty cup. as you're about to turn and leave, a familiar voice is heard from behind.

“yn. hi.”

you turn on your heels and a sense of relief washes over you as you come face to face with a face you've been longing to see (even if you don't want to admit it)

you forget why you're so angry at him for a split second. his beauty never fails to make you feel star struck and silently go “wow.” but then you remember.

“hi.” you reply coldly.

“can i talk to you?” he shouts, hoping his voice isn't drowned out by the music.

“not right now. i was just about to leave.” you walk past him to leave. jisung grabs your arm gently to stop you. you look at him and he is quick to remove his hand.

“please? just… let me explain…” he chews his bottom lip, his brows scrunched together in the middle. you think for a second and sigh softly, nodding slowly.

“ok. fine. but make it quick.” you swear you see the corner of jisung's lips curl into a subtle smile, his eyes lighting up a little. he beckons you to follow him so you do.

you follow him outside. compared to inside, where it's hot and humid, the harsh, cold night air is refreshing and soothes your damp skin.

“look.” he starts as he stops walking to turn to you. “i know i was a complete asshole.” you scoff but don't say anything. “it's just… aah fuck, how do i say this.”

you watch jisung slowly become flustered. the tips of his ears turn red, his hands clammy as he shakes a little. he shuffles on his feet to shift his weight and avoids eye contact with you.

“fuck.. this is so hard… minho said it'd be easy once i get talking but fuck minho.” jisung rambles to himself. the anger you felt slowly disappears and is replaced with… joy? 

your stomach feels a little bubbly and tingly with excitement as you watch this nerd, whom you've grown so accustomed to, become easily flustered and shy because of you.

“just say what's on your mind, jisung.” you say with a shrug. his eyes flicker at you for a second before looking to the ground.

“ok.. well…” he takes a deep breath. ”i like you and i always have and the reason why i got so pissed and called chan a whore, who i later found out was your childhood best friend, was because i was jealous of how close he was to you and i saw red and i didn't mean it. in fact, i've been cooped up in my bedroom in my own self-pity because i'm a coward and i don't deserve someone as wonderful as you and i’m really sorry. can you forgive me for being a lil silly?”

you blink at him several times. jisung dared take a breath during his little speech so all the information that has suddenly been laid on you, isn't going through your head right now.

“ah fuck.. i fucked up again, haven't i?” jisung shakes, his voice wavering as it breaks the tension in the air. his nerves shaking his body as a shaky hand picks at the skin around his fingernails. “god i knew i shouldn't have said anything. why did i take minho's dumb advice.”

“i… i don't know what to say, jisung. it's all so much.” you say in pure shock.

“oh, that's ok! i’m not looking for an answer right now. please, take your time. i just wanted you to know my true feelings and why i acted out. the last thing i want is for you to feel forced.”

“so let me get this straight. the reason you acted out is because you got jealous of chan, thinking that we were dating?” you watch jisung slowly nod his head, his cheeks turning pink; whether that's from embarrassment or from the harsh cold air. “and that you.. like me?”

jisung nods again. “silly, right?” he laughs, trying to soothe himself of the raging anxiety that's heavy in his heart and stomach.

“no.. no! not at all. i think it's kinda… cute.” 

“cute?”

“yeah. i mean, well, being away from you has got me thinking about me, you and well.. us and how i feel.” jisung walks closer to you, closing the gap between you both.

“and how do you feel, yn?” you swallow a little. the atmosphere has suddenly shifted between you both. jisung is close to you, his body daring to press against you.

you can see every detail of his honey skin under the faint moonlight. the cold breeze sweeps between his hair strands. a faint hint of cinnamon and apple from his aftershave tickles and hugs your nose making you inhale deeply for more.

“at first, i was angry at you. i didn't understand why you were so angry. but i spoke to chan about it and during the conversation, he made me realise something.”

“what?” jisung encourages. he gingerly places his hands on your waist, unsure and testing the waters. his touch is as light as a feather and when you don't push him away, his grip becomes firm. 

“that maybe, i like you too and i have for the longest time. i just never realised it because i thought you hated me but, when we spent all that time together, i started to notice the smallest of things about you and i found them to be so cute. but they're cute because it's you.” 

you slowly run your hands up his chest to his shoulder. his breath hitches and body trembles from your touch. with more confidence, jisung pulls your body flush against his own, closing the gap completely.

“so, you like me too?” his voice dips to a whisper. you hum and nod slowly. “do you have any idea how happy that makes me?”

“why don't you show me.” you whisper against his lips, teasing him by brushing yours against his slowly and gently. they feel soft and plump, kissable even. 

“you're playing a dangerous game, yn. you have no idea how long i've wanted you.”

“show me.” you whisper again, furthering your teasing by ever so lightly licking his bottom lip with the tip of your tongue.

“fuck.” jisung groans. his lips crash against yours in a heated kiss that's filled with longing. your eyes widen a little but are quick to flutter close. you melt into the kiss, the both of you becoming synchronised instantly.

you tilt your head to the side a little to allow jisung to deepen the kiss. he licks your bottom lip and you part your lips slowly.

his tongue slides in to meet yours and you're in a battle of dominance that you lose. jisung's hot kisses make you melt and crave for more. you forget about your surroundings, forget where you are. everything is a buzz in your ears and you can only focus on you, jisung and how your body is tingling and twitching.

jisung is the first to pull away. he pants heavily, his own body trembling with excitement. 

“wow.” you hum in agreement. as soon as his lips are off yours, you want them back on you again; whether that's on your own lips or on your body, you don't care as long as you get to feel the softness again.

“is this real?” he asks.

“it's real.” you respond, giggling softly. “and i’m not drunk either so.”

“so, what does this make us?” jisung cautiously asks. he wants to have an idea of what you two are slowly becoming. he wants to make sure you're both on the same page.

“whatever you want us to be, jisung.”

“well, i want you to be mine. i want to show you off to the world, proudly. i want everyone to know that you belong to me. i want to spend every single second of the day with you and during the night, i want to spend every single second caressing your body from head to toe. i want to soak myself in every single bit of detail from your body. i want to drown you in pleasure and my love.” 

you swallow and let out a small, shaky breath at the implications behind his words. your body trembles with excitement and anticipation from where tonight is going to end and for the future with jisung.

“then.. shall we go ditch the party and go back to mine? because i want that too.” with a fast nod of the head, jisung holds your hand and is quick to make way to yours.

“let's go and let's be quick. i want to make you mine, in more ways than one.”

[vi-tamine]

Heyyyyy!!!

If you are up for it, I'd love to see you write a Silco x Reader Story🙏🏻

Reader was like an older Sibling to Powder, Vi, Mylo and Clagger, making sure the kids were always okay. So that day, when almost everyone died and Silco took in Powder/Jinx, Reader went with them to keep an eye on Jinx. They turn more into a Parental Figure over time for her. Reader and Silco hated each other at first but tried to remain civil for Jinx. Over time feelings developed and both are in denial. So basically Enemies to Lovers.

Also Reader takes care of like the Bar, since they have already worked there when Vander was still alive. [Either behind the counter as a Bartender or as like Security]

Idc if its Fluffy or Angsty or smutty or smth!

I just need more Silco x Reader🙏🏻😭

at home (silco x reader)

words: 1517

genre(s): fluff, angst (i think..)

warnings: none

n/a: im sooo happy!!! thank u so much for requesting me!! this is my first request and i'm kinda nervous about it! i hope you like it and enjoy it a little!! i did my best!! want to remember that english isn't my first language, so im sorry if there are spelling or grammar mistakes, but this also helps me to improve :]

You were twenty years old when it all happened. When Mylo and Claggor died and Vi ran away after all the tragedy trying to rescue Vander from Silco's hands. You were the oldest of the three sisters, always under your care, even though you allowed them some freedom for their “missions” you always kept an eye on your sisters, in case it was necessary to get them out of some trouble. 

That day, you went to help your brothers get Vander back, making Powder promise not to move from the basement. When the whole mess happened, you were barely aware of whatever was going on. One of your arms had been trapped under the rubble and you heard Powder's distant cries for Vi to come back for her. As best you could, you pulled yourself together, pushed away the debris over your arm and made your way to find the youngest of your sisters, the one that sounded closest. The crying seemed to be weaker, and when you looked up Silco had his arms around her as she hugged him, right next to Vander's lifeless body. You approached cautiously, brow furrowed at the whole unfamiliar situation. 

“Stay away from her” you addressed Silco with a firm voice and furrowed brows. He did so without complaint, looking at you, keeping his composure and probably waiting for a move on your part that never came.  Powder turned to look at you, her blue eyes brimming with tears. She hugged your legs, and before you knew it, you were both leaving with Silco and his people. 

Seven years later you decided to take Vander's place in “The Last Drop”. Silco “signed it over” to you while he took one of the rooms to be his office. You were a little grateful that he would let you carry on the legacy of the one he once considered his brother. 

You poured one last drink before Jinx sat down on one of the stools and rolled your eyes as you watched her turn in on herself. “Get your feet off the stool if you're going to be sitting here” you scolded her as you cleaned one of the glasses and poured her the juice she always asked for. “Thank you~” she thanked taking a sip from the straw. “I've been working on one of those grenades I showed you, and even though it explodes poorly, it's getting more and more powerful!” she explained somewhat excitedly as she looked at you with a slight smile. During all these years your sister had grown more than you would have liked. Sometimes nostalgia hit you, and all you could think about was how much older she had gotten and how rebellious and uncontrollable she had become.

 Mylo and Claggor's death and Vi's abandonment left some aftereffects on your sister. Jinx was the name she had decided to adopt after Vi called her that name before abandoning her to her fate without even knowing if you were alive. Together with Silco you had raised her, and although you always tried to take her on a healthy and untroubled path, she ended up paying more attention to Silco than to you. 

During all these years your vision of Silco was changing, and all the resentment and anger you had towards him, had been loosening when you saw the love and effort he put in wanting to take care of your sister. Your attitude towards him became more passive, and his attitude towards you became sweeter and more protective. You both had your sister, Jinx, as your priority. 

“Be careful with those gadgets or someday your finger will explode.” you joked with your sister as you leaned your elbows on the bar to look at her. “I do know how to build inventions, sis, not like you” she joked with you before getting a tap on her shoulder from you. You rolled your eyes letting out a light chuckle. “By the way, Silco wants to see you” he spoke as he rubbed his shoulder with a pout. You frowned and sighed. “You take care of the drinks for a while then” you stepped out from behind the bar, you watched out of the corner of your eye as Jinx hopped over the bar to tend to the customers and scolded her for it before walking up to Silco's office.

You felt your heart beating stronger and stronger as you got closer to Silco's office. Since a few days ago your vision of the man who had given (somehow) shelter to you and your sister, apart from starting to respect him, perhaps your feelings towards him had taken a different direction, a more romantic one. Every night you told yourself that it was wrong, if you thought about it, it was against your morals and principles to like Silco, so you tried to hold back that feeling as much as you could. 

You knocked on the door, and after hearing a low “Come in”, you entered the room, allowing you to see Silco in his chair as usual and Sevika next to him. They both looked at you, and with a slight gesture, Silco had Sevika leave the room, closing the door behind her. You sat down in the chair in front of the table, sighing and making yourself comfortable as you noticed how her gaze was fixed on you. 

“What is it this time, what has Jinx done to what-” you couldn't finish formulating the sentence Silco cut you off. “Your sister is out of jail” your back and your whole body started to bristle. “With the help of a Piltover enforcer.” You discovered that Vi had been arrested and sent to Stillwater. Seven years later she seemed to have gotten out. A confused feeling invaded your body. You were happy, your sister had been released. And at the same time you were filled with rage, she had abandoned you and your sister. Then came the feeling of guilt, you were the oldest, much older than them, and you had let your sister be arrested, you had not fought for her. You swallowed and immediately got up from the couch. “Don't let Jinx know. Not yet, at least.” you left the room without even looking or listening to what Silco would have to tell you.

. . . . . . 

Later that night, having just closed the bar and with only the music to keep you company, you finished putting the last chairs back on the tables and mopping the floor. Before you even went to sleep you decided to pour yourself a shot of whiskey. You sat on the freshly cleaned bar and, with your mother's favorite song playing in the background, you thought about everything. Your parents, your sisters, brothers, Vander, Silco, everything. The alcohol scratched your throat as you thought about how you were going to confront Vi at some point, what you would say to her, how she would be, how she would react to seeing who you were with. Maybe she would understand you if she realized you were doing it all for Jinx. Maybe she would martyr you if she knew about your feelings for Silco. 

“May I have some?” a voice from behind you shuddered. Turning slightly to grab a glass, you saw Silco planted behind you. You nodded wordlessly, pouring for him as well and watching as he took a long sip. He looked back at you. “Why the long face?” he asked. You laughed wryly. “As if you didn't know” you replied clicking your tongue. You didn't want to talk down to him, but your feelings at that moment were what they were. He seemed to understand, he didn't add a word.

 He set the glass down on the bar and one of your hands rested on your shoulder, lightly trailing down your arm. “She's going to understand.” he simply said. You shook your head, also dropping the glass and looking sideways at him. “She's not going to understand. She can't. I don't blame her. I'm a horrible sister.” you sighed. You felt like your eyes were going to release tears at any moment. You noticed Silco's rough hand touch yours, embrace yours with his fingers and with his thumb caress the back of your hand. You let yourself be touched. “We should have left, Silco. We don't belong here. It's not our place. I should have taken Pow-” you couldn't finish your sentence Silco had crashed his lips to yours. You couldn't even react when he broke away. You looked at him still dumbfounded. 

“If she doesn't understand, we're going to make her understand. But don't you ever, ever, ever say again that you don't belong here. You do. You belong by my side,” and when he finished speaking you couldn't help but kiss his lips back. Your heart had just exploded like a bomb, and Silco had detonated it. There were probably going to be repercussions, surely none of this was going to go well, but for the first time, when you were dancing in his arms, you felt at home again.

[inotakumagf]

persephone’s descent

✶ gojo satoru x persephone!reader

word count ✺ 2.7K

summary ✺ no one knows what truly happened to persephone when hades dragged her down to his realm. no one’s even heard of the demigod who made the tedious journey to save her.

warning ✺ i don’t haaate the story of hades and persephone i just hate how modern interpretations of the myth make demeter out to be a crazy woman who is “ruining” their love & hades is somehow the nicest guy who has done no wrong ever when the homeric hymn to demeter makes my heart break. i like different retellings where it is more of a love story, but in the og myth he did kidnap her & force her to stay with him against her will. im gonna shut up now otherwise i’d go on and on if i had my way lol. also like i mentioned in the poll zeus is very much NOT your father in this 👍 i hope you enjoy, please reblog/comment i’d love to hear ur thoughts!

No one ever cares about your side of the story.

The tale of Persephone and Hades has been retold and romanticized a thousand times over, and each time it strays farther and farther from the truth. It becomes a love story about Hades’ adoration of Persephone, and their fight against her crazy mother’s attempts at keeping the two star-crossed lovers apart. Persephone becomes a doting wife and the millitant queen of the Underworld. Her kidnapping turns into a misunderstanding of the love Hades has for her. Or worse, some myth retellings claim that Persephone herself tricked Hades into taking her down below to his realm.

That’s not what happened. As if you’d ever go anywhere with him willingly. 

You’d never invited Naoya’s attention, not once. He wasn’t even supposed to make his ascension to the mortal realm. But he’d seen you bathing in moonlight from beneath his helm of darkness, watching as you flourish a field of irises. He’d been so taken by your beauty, eyes dragging along where moonshine reflected off of your skin. He decided then that he had to have you, and he dragged you down, down, down to his decaying realm. Away from your home, away from your mother, and away from all that you hold dear. 

Demeter had sensed the loss of your presence the moment you disappeared down into the cavernous Underworld. It felt like your life had slipped away from her that day. You find out later that she had punished the Earth for your loss, as she caused crops to wither and vegetation to rot with each passing day. 

You know she would have come for you herself if she could, but Zeus has long since forbidden the major Gods from acting directly against one another. Of course, being kidnapped by an Olympian God is not enough reason for him to intervene on your behalf, since you’re no major God yourself. 

In your immortal life, it’s impossible to remember how much time goes by in mortal standards, and it’s even harder to keep track in the Underworld. You spend most of your hours, days, maybe even years trapped in your cave of a room. You spend every second clawing and screaming against the rock walls, making sure Naoya has not a moment of peace from you.

He is easy to anger, and you’ve caused a nasty frown to grace his face anytime he looks at you. Still, he decides that he must show off his prize to his loyal court, because how many people can say they’ve captured the Goddess of nature? He has you sit on a smaller throne beside his own as he entertains members of his court. And of course, he is always offering you food. Everything from juicy pomegranate seeds to jeweled berries to plump poultry. 

Naoya must think you’re an idiot, as if you don’t know the one rule a visitor must remember when passing through the Underworld. Even to a God, the food will hold a piece of your soul hostage, as if tying you to the ground below. As a God, you don’t need food to survive, so all his obvious attempts are shot down. But you do need ambrosia and nectar from time to time, and you refuse to let him see how the deprivation of Godly food is getting to you.

You’re nursing a growing headache thanks to Naoya’s constant attention and the lack of ambrosia as you watch courtiers you hardly recognize kneel before the dais you sit on. They each have a ridiculously intricate gift for Naoya as they beg for his help with an idiotic political or social issue for their oh-so-gracious king to solve. Naoya asks for your input from time to time, not because he actually cares, but because he finds your growing annoyance hilarious.

A spirit bows in front of you on the dais. “Oh great King. I stand before you to ask you for your words of advice. You see, I have been in love with a woman for years. But it seems as though her heart has been captured by another man, and I believe she may marry him. How can I reunite with my beloved?”

Naoya taps his fingers against the bone of his throne’s armrest. “Hm. It seems you have quite the predicament. What do you think, darling dearest?”

You rub your fingers into your throbbing temple, muffling a groan of boredom. “Everyone gets their heart broken all the time. If you couldn’t tell this woman you loved her before she fell in love with the other man, maybe that’s your own fault. It’s not my problem, so why do I have to listen to your pathetic chatter?”

Naoya cackles loudly, pounding his fist against his throne’s armrest. “Aren’t you a romantic? Well, there’s your answer, lad.”

Naoya motions for the spirit to leave so that the next person can have their turn. But the spirit doesn’t budge.

“I never said she was in love with this man.”

Before you can ask what he means, the spirit throws off the raggedy cloak from his shoulders. As he does so, his form flickers until it solidifies into warm, solid flesh. You gasp. With the hood of the cloak no longer hiding the man, you instantly recognize his soft, white hair and piercing blue eyes as they meet your own. 

Naoya bellows, “What is this? A live mortal in my realm? I should have you strung and castrated, so that you may truly belong here, boy.”

Gojo Satoru points a long finger at Naoya in accusation. “You will release the Goddess of nature at once, or I’ll be forced to destroy you.”

Naoya nearly falls over in laughter. “Oh, I will, will I? And who do you think you are, speaking to the God of the Underworld like that?”

Satoru straightens his back so that he appears taller, and if you didn’t know who he was you would have thought he was a God himself. “I am Gojo Satoru, son of Zeus and champion of Nike. I act on behalf of Demeter, who demands you return her daughter, or else the destruction she has caused to the world above will continue to spread down until she destroys every corner of your so-called kingdom until there is nothing left of it.”

You don’t doubt Satoru’s ability to defeat Naoya, but the God just laughs in his face. That is, until the demigod pulls out his sword. You’ve never seen this weapon of his before. It’s so sharp, you swear you can actually see it cut the air into slivers. If you could guess, the weapon looks a lot like the work of Hephaestus himself. 

Satoru extends the weapon, pointing it directly at Naoya. “No? Then I will fight you and return the Goddess to her rightful home.” 

Naoya steps carefully off of his throne, unsheathing his Stygian blade. It’s an impressive, obsidian sword, but it dwarfs in comparison to Satoru’s weapon. 

Naoya hardly takes a step towards Satoru before the demigod has repositioned himself to the right, slashing his silver blade against the God of the Dead’s shoulder. Naoya blocks the attack, just barely. Their fight picks up after the first blow; Gojo presses his attacks forward in order to force Naoya to default to defensive blocks. Gojo’s strikes are fast and hard, constantly pushing Naoya back. He catches Naoya off guard, slashing his sword against the God’s face.

Naoya screams. “You insolent bastard. I’ll kill you for this.”

Satoru tucks his sword into its sheath. You want to scream at him to pull the damn weapon back out, but he just smirks at Naoya. “Nah, I don’t think so.”

He blasts a massive ball of electricity at Naoya, and you can taste the crackle of lightning on your tongue at the force of his power. It causes the cavernous roof above Naoya to crumble upon him. You know it won’t kill or even harm him all that much, but it will distract him for a few minutes. 

Satoru leaves Naoya under the rubble to leap onto the dais. He cups his hand against your cheek and soothes his thumb across your face. “Are you alright, my rose?” 

You press a shaky hand over his own. “I’m okay. Are you really here, Satoru?”

He laughs lightly, and you’ve never been happier to hear the sweet sound. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

You blink in disbelief. “Because I’ve dreamt of this every night.”

His smile sobers up into a concerned furrow of his brow, cradling your face in order to press a kiss to the top of your head. Your eyes flutter at the warmth of his lips. 

“I’m here,” he promises. His larger hand presses yours against his chest, letting you feel his heartbeat. You love the speed of his heart, it’s just so unlike your own, so human. “But we really should leave before he collects himself, don’t you think, my rose?”

He takes you by your hand and pulls you deeper into the Underworld, until you stand before a tunnel that looks to lead up. Satoru ushers you ahead of him, keeping a hand at the small of your back. 

“An exit?” You ask, turning to face the demigod. “How on Earth did you find this?”

He grins. “Courtesy of the Messenger God. Even the Underworld gets deliveries.”

You frown. “Hermes just…told you about this?”

“For a price” he says, winking. Your stomach flutters at his casual flirtation.

A loud roar behind you caused your heart rate to spike. It’s easy to guess that Naoya has escaped, and the shout sounds entirely too close for your comfort.

Satoru rushes ahead of you, pulling you along behind him as he leads you away from Naoya’s realm as fast as he can. He leads you further up and up, not turning back as he hastens his pace. 

You stumble on the rough path, and Satoru looks back immediately, grasping you in his arms. “We can’t stop. Come, let me carry you.”

He sweeps you off your feet, and you have to clasp your arms around his neck to keep stable. You laugh into his neck as his hair tickles your cheek. 

The ascension is long, but Satoru doesn’t falter once. He just holds you tighter against him. When you're out on the surface, you suck in a breath as you finally see the night sky again. Satoru lets you down gently, and you crouch down to run your fingers through the dry, cold ground until lush grass and baby blue flowers sprout beneath your fingers. Tears fall from your eyes in joy. You’re home.

You straighten out, leaping right into Satoru’s arms. Without hesitation, he lifts you and spins you around. You can’t help but laugh in pure joy. Your arms wrap around your lover’s neck, pulling him into a sweet kiss. He deepens it easily, pressing himself against you. Your hands splay over his smooth cheeks, running your fingers over the smile stretching across his face. You nuzzle your nose against his, staring into his eyes as though you might slip away again. Something crackles behind you.

You don’t need to turn to know that your mother has arrived. You can feel her presence as if you share the same heartbeat. Satoru lets go of you so that you can hug her. You nearly sob at the feeling of her warm embrace. Demeter hugs you so tightly that you think you’d choke if you needed air like a mortal. She pulls back to stare at you, cupping your chin in her hand.

“My daughter has been rightly returned,” she announces on the breeze. You know her words will carry around the Earth, until the land prospers once more.

Demeter turns to Satoru. “Thank you, son of Zeus. You will be rewarded for your bravery. I can give you jewels, or a kingdom, or the strength of a thousand men.”

Satoru shakes his head. “I have no need for any of those material desires, My Lady.”

Demeter raises a brow. Knowing your mother, she might decide to smite him on the spot. You lay a hand on her shoulder and beg, “Please, mother.”

Demeter sighs at your pouting face. She scowls at Satoru, but she makes no move to kill him as of right now, which is good news. “Fine. What is it that you want, demigod?”

Satoru kneels before the two of you, dipping his head low. You are used to this reverence of his, but it makes you blush to see him like this after so long apart. “If I may ask, Lady Demeter, for one wish, it would be for you to allow me to ask for your daughter's hand in marriage.”

Your eyes widen at the statement. Satoru’s head is bowed, and you can’t see his face. All you want right now is to see his face.

As if reading your mind, Satoru looks up at you. His eyes find yours, staring at you with love that you know your face reflects back. You want to kneel into the soft dirt in front of him. You want to touch, to hold him. You want.

Demeter hums. “Dangerous, son of Zeus, to wish for such a thing. Do you know what you’re asking me?”

Satoru’s eyes never leave yours. “Yes, I do.”

“So you know that you are a mortal, asking to marry a Goddess that will outlive you by ions, lifetimes. You know that Naoya will curse you for such mockery of his power. You will live and die painfully, and your afterlife will be full of eternal suffering. You will never see the gates of Elysium, if Naoya can help it.”

“I know,” Satoru repeats. “And I accept my fate, as long as I can spend the rest of my life at the Goddess’s feet. Even when I die a mortal death, I will love and worship her from beyond my grave, endlessly. This is the fate that I want.”

Demeter considers him, for a moment. You know your mother, and you know the exact moment she makes her decision. Tears pool in your eyes. She looks at Satoru, who is staring at you. She looks at you, staring right back at Satoru.

“I will not grant you this.” For the first time, Satoru’s attention snaps to your mother. His eyebrows quiver, and his mouth softens into a pout.

“Please,” he says softly. 

She glances at you, and you turn to see the mischievous glint in her eyes. “No, I cannot fulfill this request. If you wish to marry my daughter, that is a gift she must grant you. But I will give you a gift of my own choosing.” 

She holds her open palm to Satoru, and a golden apple materializes in her hand. This, you were not expecting from your mother at all. You both know what this represents. Immortality. Godhood. You stare at Satoru, and he stares up at you. 

Your mother becomes impatient. “Well, son of Zeus? What will it be?”

He takes your hands in his own. “My rose. I cannot offer you a kingdom or power like Naoya can. I am a mere breath in your presence. But I can offer you my whole and true love. I can promise that I will always serve you, loyally. As your husband, and as your humble servant. Will you allow me the pleasure of marrying you?” 

He barely finishes by the time you throw yourself at him, nodding emphatically and you press kisses all over his face. Your knees are dirtied by the soft ground, but you don’t care when Satoru’s entirety surrounds you. You inhale deeply, pressing your nose into his skin. He cradles your cheek in his warm palm, pulling away so that he can admire you. 

“My Goddess,” he murmurs.

Demeter grumbles and you can practically hear the roll of her eyes. “Lovesick fools. Aphrodite certainly had her fun with you two.”

[beesmygod]

navel-gazey retrospective: man my pain is like truly almost entirely gone. i had allergy and effexor woes for like 2-3 years and then the last 2 years overlapped with the terrible mysterious joint disease+effexor tapering (AAH!!!! my back is only just starting to feel truly free!!!!!!) so its extremely welcome to only experience like a weird 1-2 pain scale achey hour or two a day at worst. it was so bad. i'm still not 100%, im still so tired all the time, but much, much better than i used to. things are looking up and im slowly getting back in the saddle. it's slower than i want, but it's at least trending upward.

sorry for being completely unhinged for several years. thank you for being patient with me if you could stomach it, because it is only in hindsight that i realize how caustic and vile it could be. i am pretty ashamed of my behavior during this time. knowing this can and will happen again if there's a pain flare/weird med issue is making me hyper-vigilant about my behavior to prevent this from just playing out over and over for the rest of my life, forever. im going to keep doing what im doing now, which i hope is unobtrusive and respectful. i was a miserable jerk and i am sorry i made it everyone else's problem.

sincerely, if it were not for several things i think i would have been completely fucked: medicaid, being able to do comics for a living, and adam. if not for the flexibility of the work i do, i would not be able to have taken all that time off to try to at least inch toward an understanding of what was going on with me and take long periods of time to recover from it. people were endlessly kind with me and the sporadic update schedule that crept up on me in the previous years and i appreciate it. my life was improved by your support directly and it continues to be improved by it. it helped a lot.

but i was only truly able to have that incredibly loose schedule because of adam, who worked his ass off not only at his job, but also by picking up my slack around the house (there was a point where moving dishes from the table to the kitchen became "impossible" ?? and i'd have to wait until morning to do it??), cooking dinner every night, helping with laundry, demonstrated endless patience and respect for me when i spent an extraordinary amount of time sitting on the couch staring at my phone, covered bills when i needed the months off, and really just stepped up and showed up when i know he's exhausted too. thanks adam love you...!

[sweetieviktor]

viktor x librarian! reader (headcanons + tiny scenarios) part 2

summary: even before your relationship, heimerdinger already knew you and viktor liked each other. now, he wants to help to bring you two together.

content warning: fluff!! and a bit of language towards the end :D (it was written with s1 viktor in mind!)

author notes: im here again with the viktor and librarian! reader hcs, but it was so cute and i couldn't turn down the anon who sended me the request!! i really liked to write this (i mean.... you can see how much i liked, its pretty big lol) and i hope you like it too! (i recommend you read the part 1 before this, bcs you wont might understand some stuff since its on the first. well, here's the link for part 1!)

» being a librarian near piltover’s academy means that every time a student needed some book or document you might have, they would come to you. even professors.

you’ve seen the doors opening, but you didn’t see anyone standing there. you thought that maybe it was the wind, but soon you heard a voice coming from behind the reception desk. “hey, down there!” looking down, you recognized the owner of the voice, professor cecil b. heimerdinger.

“oh, i’m sorry, didn’t see you in there!’’, you rubbed the back of your neck, nervous, afraid considering that you had one of the most important people of piltover inside the library you work in. “well, how could i help you?”, you offered him a polite smile and he offered one of his, fur twitching up around the corners of his mouth.

“oh, you see, maybe you do have some old stuff, like-”

» after this, whenever he needed something, he would find himself already walking to your library. he often recommended the establishment for his students and pupils, making it a spot for study dates and scientific discussions. now, it was even harder to take breaks, the place was more crowded than it ever was. oh, you just wanted to hear what heimerdinger was wanting to say, about what had been happening at the academy or, even better, at the council, but, obviously, only the non-confidential stuff.

when your lunch break hit, you were finally able to come meet the professor, a normal occurrence every week. you could see his small figure waving and smiling, seated and already waiting for you at the cafeteria he likes. “hi, friend! i’ve ordered the usual for us,” he said while adjusting himself on his seat, “my assistant and one of my students are working together on... something. it's revolutionary, i could say, but very dangerous. i’ve already advertised them about it but they insist on doing it anyway,” he sighed, tidying the ends of his furry moustache, “and my assistant, specifically, wants to know if you have some old materials that could possibly help them.”

“oh, of course! it’s always a pleasure to help piltover’s geniuses.”

» next week, he showed up with the said assistant, viktor, and it was love at first sight. he was gorgeous and intelligent too. oh, dear janna, he was the perfect kind of guy. you eyes didn't catch how he was less confident than how normally he is, or the way he smiled at you, of course you didn’t, it was the first time you’ve met each other, but professor knew you both well enough to know something was going on. and he was correct when he said viktor would come in there often, because, indeed, he did. way too often for someone who was meant to be just a customer.

» sometimes, heimerdinger would stay in the library, pretending to read some book, only to observe how you and viktor interacted around one another. it was crystal clear how you liked each other, but were rather afraid to confess your feelings, so the yordle made it his personal mission to help you two to get together.

» and when you first sorted and stored some books for viktor based on what he was reading these past days, it was when it hit him that he might be liking you. and later, once he reached the academy again, jayce and heimerdinger already were waiting for him in the lab, both of them noticing how tense he was as soon as he opened the door.

“viktor, my boy, what happened?” the yordle said, making up space on the couch so his assistant could sit by his side. which he did, leaving the books on the table and his cane near himself, often rotating it around its own axis, just so he could occupy his mind with something that wasn't you.

“it's nothing, professor,” but he knew viktor was lying. the way he played with his cane, or how he wasn't looking at their eyes, it all made him seem more and more suspicious.

jayce came closer, sitting at the edge of his rotating chair, touching viktor's shoulder lightly, “hey, if something is happening, you can count on us,” his eyes full of empathy, looking at his friend, “whatever it may be.”

soon, it clicked for heimerdinger. his assistant just came back from the library, he had books on his hands and was visibly shaken. of course! how could he forget about the librarian? “i might have a theory why he is like this, jayce,” he chuckled, leaving viktor flustered and jayce confused. he met jayce's curious gaze, his own smile bringing a smirk to his pupil's face.

“and what would be that theory?”, jayce asked, thinking about all the possibilities of what had happened to get viktor like that.

“he is in love, boy.”

jayce smirk grew to a smile, then this smile turned itself into a full laugh, shaking his whole body, rubbing his hand over his face, trying to recompose himself. “i can't believe it!”, he was trying to hold his laugh, while viktor looked at him, completely serious.

“then don't,” viktor said, giving his friend a death stare.

jayce took a deep breath, never wanting to see this look again on viktor's face, adjusting his posture and continuing, “tell me, who is the lucky one?”

“i don't want to say it.”

“please?”

“fine! ehhh... do you remember the libra-”

“HA! I KNEW IT WAS THEM!”, jayce shouted, throwing his hands in the air, celebrating.

» from this day on, jayce and heimerdinger often gave viktor advices on how to win over your heart (because they had a lot of love experiences before, obviously). one day, heimerdinger suggested for him to bring over some coffee and pastries for you while you were working, he even recommended the ones he knew you liked, the usual you ordered in the cafeteria on your lunch breaks with him.

» so your not-a-date happened. people were talking loudly on the streets, but not a single client in. the natural light coming from across the windows giving the whole place even more of a cozy feeling, the light breeze was getting colder but the coffee he brought for you was keeping you warm. there was soft music playing in the background – most clients liked it since it helped them to focus, or so they said –, but you couldn't concentrate since he was looking at you, stealing glances from in-between pages, admiring you while you pretended to read, just like him. little did he know your heart was already on his hands.

» after a particular day, where you finally confessed to one another, exchanging your firsts “i love you's”, you both started to be spotted together a lot, usually at library or, like now, at piltover’s academy, bringing your boyfriend resources useful for him and for jayce too.

you knocked on the lab's door, receiving an answer from the other side, a muffled “come in” from someone you assumed was jayce. you then opened the said door, greeting jayce quickly while you walked towards a desk, leaving everything upon it.

heimerdinger was near viktor's workbench, helping him solve an equation, both totally focused on their tasks. when the tiny creature noticed you, he immediately came to you, “oh, friend, you're here! what brought you in there?”

“i've invited them,” viktor said, putting his goggles over his forehead, reaching for his cane and standing up, leaning on it. “i wished my, ehhh, partner knew my work place. besides, they also got me the books we needed, right?”, you nodded your head, gesturing to the desk where the books were placed on.

heimerdinger looked at them, then to viktor, to you and back at him, “oh... so, now you're partners?”, heimerdinger raised his brows, tilting his head to the side, “well, i knew it would happen sometime. i mean, ever since i’ve seen you both together, i knew you would be together,” he smiled, his fur turning up, “oh, friend, one day, me and jayce realized why he was acting so weird around us, just after one of his visits to the library, it was because-”, heimerdinger was talking excitedly, gesturing with big motions until viktor cut him.

“oh, please, professor. stop it,” viktor said, walking up to you and standing by your side. redness was spreading over his cheeks and ears, “there's no need to share any of this.”

“but you were-”

“professor,” you called, looking at him with apologetic eyes, “sorry to interrupt you but my break is going to an end in-”, you looked at the lab's clock, “fifteen minutes, i must go now.” you've met heimerdinger and jayce with a goodbye, then, getting closer to viktor, tidying his hair and adjusting his goggles over it so it won't fall over his golden eyes again, “see you later, vik. i would like to hear about any stories you might want to tell me,” you kissed his cheek, happy on how he blushed even more after the little display of affection, walking away and leaving the lab.

“you are in love!”, jayce said in between a laugh, pointing towards viktor.

“fuck you.”

“language, boy!”

[gretagerwigsmuse]

oh my gosh did we grow up in the same family? do we have the same life? i feel so seen reading this like duchess is so sooooo much like me! i absolutely loved all the specific details of not only her kitchen, but the food, the prep work, the bit about the hope/‘hopeless’ chest (i get one grandma’s china and my sister gets the other’s), the parade, the bread, her cute lil cocktail dress, the apron, the speciality cocktails, buying tupperware for the guests to take leftovers (more people need to do this)!!! and her callsign is so perfect from what we see, miss absolute hostess with the mostess! i also like how duch thinks of his as ‘bradley,’ but calls him rooster in the beginning? so perfect! more below 💕

“And you know how hard it is to go home for the holidays.” He nodded even though he didn’t. Bradley never asked for the time off unless he was dating someone who insisted on it. With no family to visit, he was happy to volunteer when there was reduced manning and allow others to take leave. - i have this same headcanon! i think bradley is really extroverted, but at the same time he’s really solitary?

And as much as you enjoyed these quiet moments alone with Bradley, it also stung. You’d thought the time away would help, but as soon as you were back, it was like no time had passed. // Friends. - oh 🥺 this is hurting so good

Digging through a drawer, you pulled out an apron and put it on, crossing the strings behind your back before tying them in a bow across your stomach. You thought you heard a murmured ‘Jesus Christ’ when you turned around to see him holding the pot holders. - YESSSSSS ugh i know that absolutely does it for him yup! 🫡

But you regretted that sentiment when you saw how she zeroed in on Bradley, staying close to him while you worked in the kitchen. The few times you broke away to mingle - showing off your renovated home, making sure that everyone’s glasses were topped off and that they didn’t need anything - you saw her hanging off his arm, giving him a simpering smile that set your teeth on edge. //  Compared to Georgia, you looked matronly with your hair pulled back and a higher neckline. Sure, your dress was classy - somewhat tight and falling just above your knees - but not attention-grabbing. - oh 🥺 why is she me?!? like trying to make everyone else happy and be a good hostess and looking cute in her cocktail dress and being in her comfort zone, but still being a little insecure about the other girl and feeling frumpy or prim? like i know this exact feeling 🥺

Choosing to wait until your guests had a plate, you leaned against the wet bar and smiled tiredly, watching your hard work be devoured. - this is the best feeling about entertaining like that moment of yes i did all this, yes it was worth it

“You okay, honey?” - oh im blushing 🤭

“When I was drunk?” “When you told me you liked me.” Mortified, you felt a sudden flush of heat and tried to pull away, but he held firm. “But that you didn’t think I was a relationship guy.” - oh my god i would simply start crying?!? i gasped reading this part

“As much as this is doin’ things for me,” he said softly, pulling at the apron strings tied at your stomach, “I think we’re done in the kitchen tonight.” - i knew it! i keep saying the man has a raging housewife kink (in a completely non regressive way of course!)

“Liked that, huh?” he teased. “Ms. Prim and Proper Duchess likes to be bossed around?” - many many thoughts

Rooster wasn't for you. You were opposites in so many ways - he was an extrovert to your introvert. The center of attention to your wallflower. You weren't interested in a one night stand, and he couldn't offer more. So his volunteering to help with Friendsgiving was just a friendly gesture after you returned from a deployment...right?

Word count: 7.8K

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“Just a minute!” you called, swiping a strand of hair from your face. The knocking stopped, and you quickly washed the flour from your hands, drying them on the towel thrown over your shoulder while heading to the door.

And there, standing on your front step as the sun started to rise, was Bradley. His normally styled curls were sleep-mussed, his grey t-shirt clinging to his arms and untucked from his Navy PT sweatpants. The smile on his face grew as he took you in - sweatpants, a baggy sweatshirt dotted with flour, fuzzy socks, and not a stitch of makeup. The difference from your normally put-together appearance was stark. “Morning, Duch.”

“You’re late.” Laughing, he held up a bag of microwavable frozen corn.

“Had to turn around when I forgot my contribution.” Rolling your eyes, you stepped back to let him in, watching to ensure he removed his shoes before following you into the kitchen.

“The turkey’s already thawed and in the sink. I just need you to clean it out, and I can take it from there.” Bradley nodded, tossing you the corn before going to the kitchen. You put it in the freezer and walked to the downstairs bathroom to wash your hands before resuming your spot at the counter, picking up your bread lame and staring at the unbaked loaf. A part of you wanted to do a simple score, knowing that it would just be eaten, but the hostess in you demanded a more intricate design. The indecision tore at you. To buy time, you sprinkled the top with more rice flour. 

“Can you get me the trashcan?” Bradley asked, and you nodded, quickly abandoning your project. After you set it beside him and pulled off the cover, he tossed the netting and plastic. You couldn’t help but notice his biceps flex as he shifted the turkey. But you shrunk back when he reached into the cavity and pulled out the giblets and gravy package, shaking your head at his raised eyebrow. He discarded them as you braced yourself, nose scrunching when he removed the neck. “You alright there, Duch?” he teased. 

“Gross.” 

“It’s just a turkey neck,” he said, holding it closer to you. You jumped back.

“I will throat punch you if you touch me with that.” He laughed, edging it closer, and you raised a fist. There was a reason a condition of you hosting everyone for Friendsgiving was someone else cleaning the turkey.

“Didn’t take you for being squeamish.” 

“You would be, too, if your grandpa chased you around the house with it when you were a kid, and you had to lock yourself in a bathroom to escape.” At his barked laugh, you shook your head. “I told that to my ex, and he thought it was funny to put it in his zipper and chase me around the house with it. If floppy dick isn’t attractive, a turkey neck sure as shit isn’t.” 

Bradley choked on a laugh. For as prim and proper as you were at times - hence the callsign Duchess - you sometimes reminded everyone that you also had a military sense of humor. “Maybe you just haven’t seen the right ‘floppy dick,’” he smirked, dropping the neck into the trash. 

Shrugging, you glanced away from him when the oven beeped, alerting that it was preheated. “You’re right. Bob probably has a pretty one.” A rosy flush crept up his cheeks as he turned back to the turkey and forced a laugh. Bradley didn’t want to hear that you were thinking about Bob’s dick. “Put it in this afterward, and I’ll dry it.” After dropping the roasting pan beside him, you rewashed your hands.

Standing in front of your bread, you bit your lip to keep from giggling as you contemplated scoring a dick into the dough but decided to go with a traditional wheat stalk. To your surprise, he grabbed the roll of paper towels by the sink and patted the turkey dry, even the cavity. As you removed the Dutch oven from the preheated oven, he tied up the trash bag and took it out. After putting the bread into the oven, you set the timer and moved to the sink, glancing at Bradley when he came back in. Standing beside you, he reached for the soap and lowered the water temperature before scrubbing his hands. Removing the hand towel from your shoulder, you draped it over his after drying your hands. “Thanks,” he murmured. 

“Thanks for taking care of the turkey.” Standing by the island, you crouched to retrieve a cutting board. The sound of other cabinets closing made you peek over the countertop to see him rooting through the overhead storage. “Are you looking for something?” 

“Coffee mugs.” Biting back a retort about making himself comfortable, you pointed to the right of the stove. You bit your tongue when he grabbed two mugs - including your favorite - and went to the wet bar where the full pot was finished brewing. Placing the cutting board on the counter, you grabbed a knife from the block and were surprised to see a mug of coffee beside your workstation. Murmuring your thanks, you grabbed the creamer from the fridge along with packages of herbs and butter. “What are you making?” Bradley asked.

“A marinade since I didn’t brine the turkey.” 

“You want a hand?” 

“I’ve got it,” you said automatically. “I’ve got a schedule.” He didn’t need to know that you were already behind after falling asleep on the couch early last night and forgetting to set your alarm. And he definitely didn’t need to know that you’d only been awake for 20 minutes before he arrived. If you put your head down and focused, everything would still be ready to eat at the agreed-upon 3:00 PM. Some of your time to get yourself ready would just have to be sacrificed. For some reason, you’d insisted that everyone dress nicely for Friendsgiving. Wearing a uniform almost every day didn’t give you any opportunities to dress up, and sometimes it felt nice to wear something other than jeans and a t-shirt. 

Setting your tablet up, you navigated through the bookmarked recipes and rinsed the herbs before pulling them from the stems. Bradley leaned against the counter beside you and sipped his coffee while glancing around the kitchen. Seeing him relaxing there, one leg crossed over the other and looking like he’d just rolled out of bed, made something flutter in your chest. 

“You know, you could have saved a lot of time if you’d just agreed to let Hangman fry the turkey.”

That made you snort. “I just finished my renovations - the last thing I want is for my house to burn down.” It had taken months to get your home exactly how you wanted it. After twelve years in the Navy, you were ready to put down some roots, and buying a home had seemed like the smart thing to do. Living in a construction zone for the last year hadn’t been fun, but a well-timed deployment meant you weren’t there for the worst of it. The results were worth the pain, and you’d jumped at the chance to host when you got back and realized most of the squad had no plans for Thanksgiving. You couldn’t wait for them to see the changes in the Craftsman that had been a definite fixer-upper when you purchased it. The kitchen had been completely gutted and replaced with double ovens and quartz countertops, and the smaller kitchen island had been moved and changed to a wet bar with a wine fridge, replaced with an oversized one. The popcorn texture was scraped from the ceiling throughout the house, the floors redone, and the walls painted. The primary bath had been updated with a large soaker tub and walk-in shower, and you loved the giant closet. The guest bathrooms still needed work, as did the yard, but those were projects for later. 

“It looks good, Duch,” he said softly, gaze holding yours for a long moment. You felt those inconvenient butterflies again and shoved them aside, dropping your eyes to the cutting board. Bradley wasn’t for you. You were too different - he enjoyed nights out at the bar, while you liked to spend time at home. He liked being the center of attention while you preferred to blend into the background. Besides, he didn’t seem much like a relationship guy, given the number of flings he had at the Hard Deck, while the idea of casual dating gave you hives. Pushing away from the counter, Bradley reached under the sink for a trashbag, putting it into the can before washing his hands. He moved closer, nose twitching slightly at the scent of rosemary, and braced his big hands on the countertop beside you. “Alright, what can I do?” 

“You don’t - ”

“Lemme help.” His eyes met yours, smiling when you sighed. 

“Fine. The meat injector is in here,” you said, bumping one of the drawer handles with your hip. “And I’ll need the chicken stock from the pantry.” Pouring the stock, herbs, and a couple of sticks of butter into a stockpan, you handed Bradley a silicone spatula and told him to stir. You rolled your lips together to keep from smiling when he pulled his phone from his pocket and watched videos of turkey injections before declaring he would be in charge of it. Reluctantly, you agreed. Once the marinade had cooled, the bird was given a second drying, you had finished the coffee, and Bradley had rewatched the video three times, it was time. He studied the turkey through narrowed eyes as you tried not to laugh. “You want to - ”

“Ah!”

“The breast and thighs - ”

“I’m doing it, Duch,” he cut you off. 

“Well, remember that if it turns out dry.” The unimpressed look Bradley shot you made you grin as you put your chin in your hand and motioned for him to proceed. The tip of his tongue poked through his lips as he filled the injector and hovered the needle over the turkey. His eyes darted to you, and you raised an eyebrow. “You can tap out at any time, Rooster.” Instead of replying, he pierced the meat and pushed down on the plunger. You couldn’t help but laugh when he yelped, marinade spraying in his face after pushing too hard. But when he reached to wipe it away, you caught his hands. “Don’t put turkey germs all over your face,” you scoffed, towing him toward the sink. You held his chin while cleaning his face with wet paper towels. 

“Now you’re just messing with me,” he chuckled when you scrubbed his mustache, but he didn’t pull away. His breath was hot on your hand, and his smile soft when you reached up to dab away a speck of garlic in his eyebrow. Balling up the paper towel, you shook your head. 

“Wash your face with soap to make sure you don’t get salmonella. Cyclone’ll kill me if you’re out with food poisoning.” Turning on the water, you ensured it was warm before getting a clean washcloth. The oven timer beeped as you dug through the linen closet, and you hurried back into the kitchen, throwing the towel on the sink beside him and grabbing the pot holders to take out your bread. Once it was on the wire rack to cool, you moved to the turkey. 

“What’re you doing?” Bradley demanded, turning while drying his face. 

“Taking over.” You gasped when he closed the space between you in a few strides, wrapped his arm around your waist, and lifted you away from the counter. “Bradshaw! What the hell?”

“Told you I’m doing it,” he chuckled in your ear. Once back on your feet, you spun in his hold and stared at him. Butterflies erupted in your stomach at his cocky smirk. 

“Fine, but if you waste more of my marinade, you’re out of my kitchen.”

“Deal.” 

Thankfully, there were no further incidents, but you kept a close eye on him while slicing up a loaf of bread you’d baked two days before and let go stale for stuffing. After covering the roasting tray with tin foil, the bird went back into the fridge to rest for a few hours. “Thanks, Rooster. I guess I’ll see you later?”

“What else can I do?” 

“You don’t - ” 

“I want to help. I haven’t…” his eyes dropped to the floor as he shrugged. “I never got to do this before. My mom and I would always go to my cousin’s for Thanksgiving before she died, and it always seemed kinda fun.” 

Everyone on the squad knew that Bradley’s parents had passed when he was young. He didn’t mention them often, but you noticed he’d get quiet sometimes when people talked about their families. So his volunteering the information felt important, and glancing at the clock showed that you were still behind schedule. “Fine.”

“Yeah?” he asked, excitement flashing in his eyes. 

“Don’t look so happy - you’re doing prep work. You can peel potatoes, assemble the veggie tray, and roast the garlic. I need to work on sides and desserts.” 

And he did. Bradley followed your instructions, grimacing while peeling potatoes over the trash can until you took out a plastic bag and put it in the sink for him to do it there. You kept an eye on him as he cut the spuds into uniform pieces after explaining that they wouldn’t cook evenly for the mashed potatoes, somewhat worried that he would cut himself. Rather than deal with the onions, you delegated the task and tried not to laugh at his near-constant sniffles and swipes at his watery eyes as you diced peppers. Once you dug out the hand-me-down crystal platters, he arranged the veggies you’d prepped the night before while making pies. Dips were mixed, and cans of olives and bottles of pickles were opened and drained before being plated.

Other than bumping into one another when going for the fridge at the same time, it wasn’t too bad sharing the kitchen. The coffee pot was quickly emptied, and Bradley brewed another between shredding blocks of cheese. You sang along with your playlists, his deep voice joining on a few songs while teasing you about others. When you sang about karma being a kink, he watched your hips sway at the sink, clenching his jaw when you sang a breathy ‘oh god.’ 

He slid the roasting tray into the oven when the turkey was rested and ready to cook. “Now what?” he asked, turning to look at you. 

“Now we keep an eye on it for about four hours. Baste and re-inject it every hour or so,” you shrugged. A glance at his watch showed it would be almost 2:00 PM by the time it was ready. As though realizing it would still be hours before eating, his stomach grumbled its discontent. He blushed when you smirked. “I guess the least I can do is make my sous chef breakfast. Get the muffins and butter from the fridge for me.”  

“Did you make these?” he asked, setting the containers beside you as you heated a skillet on the stove.

“I did - family tradition is grilled muffins on Thanksgiving morning. You okay with blueberry?” At his nod, you started slicing muffins in half. Rather than giving you space, Bradley stayed at your elbow. A comfortable silence fell, broken only by sizzling butter. His gaze met yours when you glanced up at him, and a smile tugged at his mouth. 

An image of reaching up to bury your fingers in his messy curls and tugging his mouth down to meet yours flashed through your mind. Your fingers twitched with the urge to do it, eyes drifting to his mouth and lingering there for a moment too long. His tongue darted out to wet his lips, and you forced yourself to look away, heat creeping into your face. 

You nearly jumped out of your skin when he reached up to shift a strand of hair that had fallen from your messy bun. “I’m glad you're back, Duch,” he said, voice slightly raspy. 

Forcing a laugh, you plated two muffins and handed them to him. “Everyone misses the mom friend of the group when she’s deployed.” Your eyes darted to his stomach when it growled again, just in time to see the front of his sweats twitch. Pretending you didn’t see it, you nodded to the living room. “The parade is recording if you want to watch it.” 

Bradley opened his mouth as though he would say something before taking the apparent dismissal. Alone in the kitchen, you touched your cheek and felt warm skin. With a deep breath, you grilled yourself a muffin as the sound of the broadcasters came from the living room. After topping up your coffee, you joined him. He sprawled on one end of the couch, plate balanced on a thigh as he sipped his coffee. Sitting on the opposite side, you crossed your legs and let out a soft groan. Only a couple of hours standing in the kitchen and your back was already starting to protest. “What else do you have to do this morning?” he asked after a moment.

Mentally running through your list, you sighed. “I need to do some cleaning and get into the attic. I’ll start cooking a bit closer to noon, so things just have to be warmed up.”

“What do you need from the attic?” 

“My nice china. My parents bought my sister and I sets for our hope chests when we were kids.”

“What’s a hope chest?”

“You know, stuff you’d need once you get married?” When his eyebrows shot up, you shrugged. “They weren’t really serious about it - it was more of a joke. But, every once in a while, they’d buy something for us and put it away for when we were older and say it was for our hope chest.” Taking a bite of muffin, you gave him a sad smile, “Mine’s more of a ‘hopeless’ chest,’ though. I guess they finally gave up on me getting married because they gave it to me when they sold their house and moved closer to the grandkids. I figured I’d get it out and use it instead of having it sit in the cardboard boxes it’s been in for over two decades.” Something passed over Bradley’s face but disappeared in an instant. Wanting to change the subject, you asked, “What do you usually do for Thanksgiving?”

“Nothing. It’s just another Thursday.” When you frowned, he lifted a shoulder. “A couple of times, I went to the Officer’s Club, or someone would invite me over. But most of the time, I just make myself a turkey sandwich and catch up on sleep. What about you?”

“If I’m not with my family, then this. When I first commissioned, I went to the O-Club with some friends but missed cooking and hanging out. And you know how hard it is to go home for the holidays.” He nodded even though he didn’t. Bradley never asked for the time off unless he was dating someone who insisted on it. With no family to visit, he was happy to volunteer when there was reduced manning and allow others to take leave. “So I invited a couple of people from my squad over, and that was that.” 

“It’s a lot of work.”

“It is,” you agreed. “But it’s worth it.” Bradley’s fingers curled around his plate and in his sweatpants, his chest expanding as he took a deep breath. When he shifted forward, you quickly stood and reached out your hand for his empty plate. “Do you want another one?” Shaking his head, he stood and took your plate. 

“Do you?” Swallowing hard, you shook your head and watched him walk back into the kitchen. Biting back a groan, you gave yourself a moment to collect yourself. Things had been…different… since you’d gotten home. And as much as you enjoyed these quiet moments alone with Bradley, it also stung. You’d thought the time away would help, but as soon as you were back, it was like no time had passed. He was still there, partnering for foosball in the Ready Room and coaxing you to go to the Hard Deck. Making sure that you sat next to him in briefings. Offering to look at your car when it made a noise.

Friends. That’s what friends do for each other. After all, he did the same for Nat. 

Collecting the empty coffee mugs, you followed him to the kitchen and watched as Bradley cleaned up the mess and set it in the sink. “Don’t feel like you have to stick around, Rooster. I can handle getting everything ready.” 

“I’m happy to help if you want me here. I’d just sit at my house watching TV and wait to come back if I went home.” 

Chewing the inside of your lip, you bit back a wave of want. “Don’t think this gets you out of the dress code,” you replied, forcing your voice to be cool while allowing your eyes to run the length of him. “I’m serious - slacks and button-downs, not sweats.” 

Laughing, he snapped a salute. “Yes, ma’am. I’ll make sure I run home and change to pass your inspection.” 

The rest of the morning was a blur, punctuated by moments of stark clarity. 

Bradley’s hands on your waist as you climbed down the attic stairs. 

Biceps flexing as he carried your Christmas tree to a spare bedroom to set up tomorrow.

His elbow bumping yours as he dried the china and set it aside.  

The look of concentration on his face when he basted and injected the turkey again.

His body passing close to yours as he emptied the dishwasher and you assembled dishes.

Just after noon, he went home to get ready while you showered. People were due to arrive around 1:30 PM, and you were back on schedule with your unexpected assistant. 

Sooner than you expected, there was a knock at the door. Groaning, you capped your mascara, shimmied into your black sheath cocktail dress, and went to answer it. Bradley stood on the porch, having changed into a pair of slacks and one of his nicer Hawaiian shirts, hands in his pockets. Folded over his arm was a coat, and he grinned at you when he caught you looking at it. “Wasn’t sure if I would pass inspection without a sports coat,” he chuckled, allowing his gaze to rake over you. A flush rose on your cheeks as you reached behind yourself to pull up the dress zipper. It caught just above the top of your thong.  “You look… you’re fine.” Chuckling, he shook his head. 

“Turn around, Duch.” After a beat, you stepped back to allow him inside and did as he said.

“There’s a hook and eye at the top,” you said and inhaled sharply when you felt his fingers brush the back of your neck. The smell of his cologne enveloped you, and you bit back a moan when his hand moved to your lower back and tugged the zipper up. After a beat, you turned to face him and were surprised by how close he was. His mouth curved into a smile as he looked down at you, hand resting on your waist. 

“You look fine, too,” he said softly. Your hands itchied to move to his chest. Bradley’s eyes drifted to your lips, and your breath caught as his fingers flexed around you. If asked, you would have sworn you felt the lightest pressure pulling you closer - but then someone knocked on the door. Stepping out of his hold, you smoothed your hair down and ignored the brief moment his hands hung in suspension before being shoved back into his pockets. 

“I came early to see if you needed a hand,” Phoenix said when you opened the door. In her hands was a tray, and she’d also chosen a cocktail dress for the occasion. Her normally tied-back hair was loose around her shoulders. 

“Hey,” you smiled, hoping that you weren’t blushing. Nat’s eyes shifted over your shoulders and narrowed slightly. 

“What are you doing here?” 

“Same as you - seeing of Duch needed help.”

“He’s been here all morning,” you blurted out, flushing when both sets of eyes landed on you. “He’s taking care of the turkey.” 

“The guy who hates cooking is in charge of the main dish?” Nat smirked. “Probably would have been better letting Hangman fry it.”

“He’s being supervised,” you assured, glancing over your shoulder to see him rolling his eyes. Stepping back to let Nat into the house, you accidentally bumped into Bradley, who held your hips to steady you. Quickly moving away from his touch, you took the tray from her and motioned for them to follow you into the kitchen. “I haven’t had a chance to put any drinks out, but there’s some coffee left and wine chilling. I still need to make the cocktails, but there’s also soda and flavored water.” The two followed you, exchanging a look that you missed.

As soon as he entered the kitchen, Bradley tossed his coat onto the wet bar and moved to the oven, flipping on the light to check the turkey before glancing at his watch. “I need to do the last basting, right?” 

“It’s about that time,” you agreed, glancing at the clock. Digging through a drawer, you pulled out an apron and put it on, crossing the strings behind your back before tying them in a bow across your stomach. You thought you heard a murmured ‘Jesus Christ’ when you turned around to see him holding the pot holders. 

You could feel Nat watching as you worked together to remove the turkey and then return it to the oven, popping olives into her mouth and smirking. “Looks like you guys have it down,” she said. “Don’t need my help at all.”

“Nope,” Bradley said, drowning out your, “You can feel free to relax.” 

“Might as well do something since I’m here,” she shrugged, pushing off her elbows. “What can I do?” 

And so, with a third set of hands, you set them to making large batches of seasonal cocktails while you cut the bread you’d made that morning, covering it with slices of brie and dried cranberries before drizzling it with honey. A quick scroll through your schedule gave you the times to start cooking, and you preheated the second oven.

The house slowly filled as more of the squad arrived. Countertops were quickly covered with their contributions - thankfully, more than beer and wine, and only a few sides repeated -  and you mentally shifted your schedule to accommodate the additional dishes.

Mav, Penny, and Amelia were the last to arrive, with her new bartender, Georgia, in tow. Penny had asked you if she could invite her, given that the woman was new to the area and didn’t have anywhere else to spend the holiday. You’d replied with, “The more, the merrier,” just like you had for everyone else’s requests to bring a guest. 

But you regretted that sentiment when you saw how she zeroed in on Bradley, staying close to him while you worked in the kitchen. The few times you broke away to mingle - showing off your renovated home, making sure that everyone’s glasses were topped off and that they didn’t need anything - you saw her hanging off his arm, giving him a simpering smile that set your teeth on edge. And, while she’d adhered to the dress code, you weren’t exactly thrilled to see that her breasts were nearly spilling out of her low-cut dress. 

“You need anything, Duchess?” Payback asked, setting down the pitcher of spiced ginger pear and bourbon. 

“I’m good,” you replied, wiping your hands on the dish rag thrown over your shoulder and blowing a loose strand of hair from your face. “Turkey should be done in a few minutes; once it rests, we can eat.” 

“Thanks for doing this,” he said, glancing over at your full house. Aviators were sprawled across your living room and spilled out into the backyard. It was exactly what you’d hoped for when redesigning the house - plenty of space to comfortably entertain. 

“I’m happy to, Payback,” you smiled, allowing him to pull you in for a hug. “Beats having a quiet house for the holidays.” 

“Want me to get the turkey out for you?” 

“I’ve got it covered,” a voice said behind you, and you couldn’t help but wonder about Bradley's slightly sharp tone as you pulled away from the hug. 

“Got it,” Payback replied, raising an eyebrow and lifting his hands. “Let me know if you need anything, Duch.” Squaring your shoulders, you turned to face the man behind you and forced a smile. 

“I’ll clear off a spot on the stove for you to put the pan, and then we’ll let it sit for half an hour.” 

“Then it’ll be done?”

“Then you’ll have officially made your first turkey,” you nodded. When the timer went off, Bradley quickly pulled the bird from the oven and set it on the stove, closely inspecting his work. 

“Does it look right?”

“Yes, relax.”

“Did you make it?” a smokey voice asked, and you felt your shoulders rise. Glancing at Georgia, you saw Bradley’s eyes dart between you.

“He did,” you answered, smiling at the woman. 

“I just followed her directions,” he replied. 

“It looks great!” Georgia giggled. Forcing a smile, you undid the apron strings and pulled it off before excusing yourself. You could feel eyes on you as you walked down the hallway to your bedroom and shut the door, retreating to your en suite.

After washing your hands for the millionth time, you quickly applied lotion while examining your appearance in the mirror. Compared to Georgia, you looked matronly with your hair pulled back and a higher neckline. Sure, your dress was classy - somewhat tight and falling just above your knees - but not attention-grabbing. 

Not that you were trying to grab anyone’s attention.

A knock on your bedroom door startled you, and you peeked out to call, “Who is it?”

“Rooster.” Glancing back in the mirror, you saw your cheeks were slightly pink and scowled at your reflection.

“Get it together,” you hissed before turning off the light and going to open the door. And there he was, smiling down at you.

“Your phone was going off,” he said, holding up your cell. When your eyes flitted toward it, the device unlocked to show your family group chat was going off. Taking it from him, you swiped up to see videos and pictures. A smile crept onto your mouth as you clicked the first and heard your older sister’s voice.

“Guess what?” she said before tossing a card down and throwing her hands up. Cheers and laughs broke out, and you could hear your nephew complaining as your grandmother said, “Looks like Mom won!”

The camera panned to show your other nephew licking whipped cream off his pie, utterly unfazed by the family now pounding on the table in a drumroll. Catching Bradley’s interested expression, you moved so he could see the screen. Scrolling through the other videos, you watched your mom roll down a hill with the boys and your dad holding a glass of wine with your brother-in-law. The sight made your heart clench, and you sighed. Being away from family on the holidays was the worst. Thankfully, they all understood that your job didn’t always give you the flexibility to be with them.

“Looks like a fun group.”

“They are. I’m glad I get to spend Christmas with them.” He nodded, a flicker of sadness and something else in his eyes. “What are you doing for Christmas?”

“Mav’s already told me I’m spending it with him and Penny.”

“Sounds like fun.” You knew a complicated dynamic existed there but didn’t want to pry. His shoulder lifted, eyes drifting to your now dark phone. And that’s when you recognized the look on his face - longing. “Hey, you okay?” 

“Yeah, I’m fine.” When he saw your unconvinced expression, he sighed. “Holidays kind of suck when you don’t have family.” 

“I’m sorry, Bradley.” Something in his expression changed when you said his name and reached out to touch his arm. His eyes darted from your hand to your face, and you quickly pulled away. But he was faster, catching your fingers and holding tightly. Your breath caught with the intensity of his gaze, and he stepped into your room. His breath was warm on your face when you refused to retreat. Lifting your chin, you saw his throat bob when he swallowed.  

“Hey, there’s a timer going off,” Bob called down the hall. 

“Be right there,” you yelled back, pushing lightly against Bradley’s chest and forcing space between you. But when you tried to shake off his hand, he held fast. “I need to go, or something will burn,” you breathed. Reluctantly, he nodded and released you. 

You’d already removed the green bean casserole and macaroni and cheese from the oven when Bradley reappeared. Unsurprisingly, Georgia glued herself to his side as he sipped his drink. Though you could feel him looking at you, you refused to meet his gaze. 

When everything was ready, you looked over your kitchen and nodded approvingly. When the guys offered to carve the turkey, you turned them all down and delegated that task to Bradley.  “He earned it,” you said, glancing at him before busying yourself with opening another bottle of wine. With Coyote and Fanboy at his elbows critiquing his cuts, you steered clear of that part of the kitchen and chatted with Penny while pulling out silverware. 

Hangman refused to let you go around the room and tell people that food was ready, instead pulling out a chair and helping you stand on it before whistling loudly to get everyone’s attention. “Dinner’s served!” you said, placing a hand on his shoulder, his arm around your hips to keep you steady. “Thank you for bringing something, and please help yourself. Happy Thanksgiving, everyone - I’m glad I get to spend it with you.” Lifting your wine glass, you took a quick sip and laughed when Hangman lifted you off the chair to set you back on the floor. 

Choosing to wait until your guests had a plate, you leaned against the wet bar and smiled tiredly, watching your hard work be devoured. There weren’t enough chairs for everyone at the table, so the group spread into the living room. You took a few pictures and sent them to your family. 

Someone stepped in front of you, pulling your attention from your phone. “You’re not gonna eat?” Bradley asked. 

“Just waiting for the line to clear,” you replied, forcing a nonchalant tone. The corner of his mouth twitched as he shook his head. 

“Come on, Duch.” His fingers curled around yours, drawing you from the counter and into the line. Grabbing one of the smaller salad plates, you let him push you in front of him, taking small amounts of almost every dish while he served himself larger portions. After topping up your wine, you walked to the living room and felt him behind you, ignoring Georgia's attempt to get his attention. He motioned for you to take the last spot on the couch and sat on the floor. “Jesus,” he moaned after taking the first bite of turkey.

“Mmmm,” you agreed. “You did a good job.”

“Who would have thought the guy who made the barracks evacuate after he burned ramen would make a good turkey,” Nat smirked. Bradley flipped her off, unable to keep the proud grin off his face. 

Dessert was eaten, and the last bottle of wine finished before 7:00 PM. The house felt quiet as it slowly emptied, and you hugged everyone goodbye. Already, tentative plans for a Christmas party formed even as you fought off a yawn. After assuring Penny that you were fine cleaning up, she left with Mav and Amelia in tow. 

Which left only Bradley. 

The sound of running water drew you back into the kitchen, and you paused in the doorway at the sight of him rinsing silverware and loading the dishwasher, a hand towel thrown over his shoulder. “I can take care of that,” you said quickly. Bradley glanced at you and shook his head.

“Relax, I’ve got it. Can the plates go in here, or do they need to be hand-washed?”

“They can go in there.” Ignoring the order, you walked around the house, picked up empty glasses and forgotten dishes, and set them by the sink. Donning your apron, you surveyed the leftovers, “Did you want any of this?”

“Yeah, I’ll take a plate.” Nodding, you started to put the food away. Thankfully, there wasn’t a lot left. Everyone had been happy to take leftovers, and you were glad you’d had the forethought to buy containers for them to keep. 

The silence was comfortable, and you were stifling yawns with the back of your hand. Between the turkey, wine, and lack of sleep the night before, you were ready to change back into comfy clothes and pass out. Without prompting, Bradley started to cut up what was left of the turkey, placing some in the containers you’d portioned for him before putting the rest in the fridge. You started the dishwasher when it was full and wiped down counters. After tossing the rest of the turkey, he took the trash out.

When the door swung shut, you took the opportunity to stretch, moaning when your back popped before bending at the waist and letting your arms dangle. As much as you enjoyed hosting, your body took a beating, being on your feet all day. You would definitely need to invest in some mats to make the kitchen floor more comfortable before your next full day of cooking. 

Even when the door opened, you felt too good stretching to stand up straight. You heard Bradley chuckle and then the sound of water running, followed by the snap of a trashbag being shaken out. Finally, you stood and threw out a hand to steady yourself when the world spun. Hands wrapped around your hips and drew you closer. “You okay, honey?” 

The term of endearment caught you off-guard and had clearly slipped out by the flush on Bradley’s cheeks. “Honey?” you echoed, quirking a brow.

“Duchess,” he corrected. 

“Rooster.” Your hands rested on his forearms, feeling the muscles flex as his fingers clenched around your hips. Taking a deep breath, you felt your chest brush his. His lips quirked into a wry smile. “What?” 

“Just waiting for something to interrupt.” At your questioning look, he chuckled. “Been trying to kiss you all day, and something always gets in the way.” 

“What?” you breathed, shock written across your face. 

“Been thinkin’ about kissing you since that night at the Hard Deck, actually.” 

“T-the Hard Deck?”

“Yup. Before you deployed.” Heat rushed to your face at the memory - or lack thereof - of your going away party. There had been one too many shots, and you had a vague recollection of Bradley driving the Bronco. Of him telling you not to throw up while he helped Nat into her apartment before taking you home. Half carrying you to bed and making sure you had water and medicine - warm hands on your face and a raspy laugh.  

“When I was drunk?”

“When you told me you liked me.” Mortified, you felt a sudden flush of heat and tried to pull away, but he held firm. “But that you didn’t think I was a relationship guy.” 

“Roo - ”

“I am. A relationship guy,” he clarified, tongue darting out to wet his lips. “For the right woman.” Your mouth was dry, unable to force out a single word. “I was gonna say something before you left, but you avoided me. And then you were gone for three months.”

“I… you messaged me.” 

“Wasn’t exactly something I wanted to say over email,” Bradley chuckled. “I like you too.” 

“What about Georgia?”

That drew him up short, and a confused look crossed his face. “The bartender?” 

“Yeah. She… I mean, she’s clearly interested. And more your type.” Groaning, he leaned down to rest his forehead on yours.

“Honey, I’m not interested in her. And she’s not… ask Nat. She’s been on my case about my” - he lifted a hand to make air quotes - “‘hoe phase’ since I got out here.” That drew a snort from you, and Bradley pulled away to smile at you bashfully. “Gimme a chance, Duch.” 

Hesitating a moment, you took another deep breath and gave the butterflies in your stomach free rein. Hands shaking, you wrapped your arms around his neck and nodded, unable to keep from matching his smile. 

Moving slowly, as though afraid to spook you, Bradley leaned down and brushed his nose to yours. “As much as this is doin’ things for me,” he said softly, pulling at the apron strings tied at your stomach, “I think we’re done in the kitchen tonight.” Biting your lip, you could only nod, leaning away as he tugged it over your head, balled the apron up, and tossed it behind you. With his hands back on your hips, he walked you backward and lifted you onto the counter, stepping between your knees. “This alright?” 

“Yeah,” you whispered, allowing yourself to reach out and run a hand through his curls. Bradley's eyes closed when you lightly scratched his scalp, and he swayed closer. His breath ghosted over your lips and - 

“Fucking Christ,” he groaned when his phone started to buzz. You jumped, feeling the vibration against your shin, and laughed as he dropped his head into the crook of your neck. Your breath caught, feeling his lips on your throat. When he reached into his pocket and scowled down at the screen, you saw Nat’s name before he sent the call to voicemail. 

Leaving the phone on the counter, he smirked and guided your legs around his waist as your arms went around his neck. His hands cupped your ass as he lifted you. In the doorway to the kitchen, he paused long enough for you to slap the walls until the lights turned off before walking toward the couch and lowering himself onto it. Your knees dug into the cushion on either side of him, forcing the hem of your dress higher. 

From this angle, he had to look up at you. Hands migrated from your ass to thighs, callouses lightly scraping and fingertips darting under the fabric to trace shapes on your skin and drag the hem higher. Lightly, you ran your thumb along the scars on his chin before ghosting over the ones on his cheek that had always intrigued you. A moan rumbled from his throat as he followed your touch, mustache tickling the delicate skin of your wrist. Blushing, you wondered how it would feel on your inner thighs. He chuckled, kissing your cheek, “What’re you thinking that’s got you red?” 

Rather than answer, you turned and kissed him - just a light brush of your lips against his that seemed to catch him off-guard. You stared at one another for a long moment until he guided you closer. His mustache prickled, not unpleasantly but different, when he kissed you again. It was sweet and unhurried, a direct contradiction to the hardness you felt straining against his zipper. 

Pulling away, you smiled tentatively down at him, seeing the remnants of your lipstick on his mouth. The corners of his eyes crinkled when he smiled, and you leaned forward to press your lips to them. “Hi,” you said softly.

“Hey.” 

“You like me?” 

“Yeah. You like me?” 

Rather than reply, you captured his lips again. “Drunk words,” you said between kisses, “are sober thoughts.” He barked a laugh before tugging you closer and licking into your mouth. 

“Shoulda said something earlier,” he chided, gripping your ass tightly. “Coulda been doing this for a long time.” 

“Blame the tequila.” The word came out as a moan when he trailed kisses down your neck, and you felt him smile. 

“Thank god for tequila,” he mumbled, nuzzling your breasts and making you grind down on him. Bradley caught your hands when your fingers trailed down his chest to tug at his shirt. “Nuh-uh, honey. Gonna take you on a couple of dates before we get to that.”

“What?” 

“No more ‘hoe phase.’” 

“Maybe just one more night?” That made him laugh again as he shook his head.

“No, Duch. Wanna do this right with you.” 

“I’ve heard the stories. I know you would.” When you rocked against him, he pinned your hand at your lower back and stilled you with a hand on your hip. He growled your name and smirked when your thighs clenched.

“Liked that, huh?” he teased. “Ms. Prim and Proper Duchess likes to be bossed around?” Heat flooded your face, and he chuckled again. Without warning, he stood, and you squeaked, trying to keep from falling. But he held you steady and set you on your feet, towering over you. “Can I stay over?” You didn’t hesitate in nodding, and his kiss was rough before he pulled away and swatted your ass. “Go get ready for bed while I lock up.” 

When you emerged from the bathroom, face cleaned and in your panties and a tank top, Bradley was lying in the middle of your bed in just his boxers. Groaning, he looked at you and shook his head. “Where are those sweats from this morning?” 

“You want me to wear sweats to bed?” you asked, leaning against the doorframe and raising an eyebrow. His hand drifted down to his hard cock, squeezing lightly. “You’ve seen me in less at the beach.”

“Trying to do this right, honey.” Rolling your eyes, you walked to your dresser and pulled on sweatpants before digging out a pair of fuzzy socks. He laughed when you tossed them at his head, setting them aside as you circled the bed to lie beside him. Quickly, he pinned you beneath him, settling in the cradle of your thighs. As he licked into your mouth, you felt his hips rolling against yours. “Still too damn sexy,” he murmured against your lips. 

“Housewife lingerie does it for you?” you teased, running your hands through his hair. Rather than answer, he looped an arm under your knee and drew it up, allowing you to feel him better. “Fuck.”

“Not tonight.” 

And, unfortunately, he was true to his word. Anytime your hands strayed to his boxers, he pinned them over your head, seemingly content to tease and kiss all night. 

Eventually, though, you could no longer keep from yawning. After setting his alarm - Bradley was on duty in the morning while you’d taken the day off - he tucked you against him, your back to his chest. His cock pressed against your ass as he kissed your shoulder, hand slipping under your shirt to brush the underside of your breast. Sighing, he murmered, “Best Thanksgiving I’ve had in a long time.” 

You couldn’t help but agree.

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

Author's Note: Do I think that Bradley has a raging domesticity kink? Possibly.

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[oslvni]

𝐎𝐒𝐋𝐕𝐍𝐈'𝐒 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟒 𝐂𝐇𝐑𝐈𝐒𝐓𝐌𝐀𝐒 𝐒𝐏𝐄𝐂𝐈𝐀𝐋

Merry Christmas everyone! As my gift to you all I wrote something for u all to every weekend until Christmas. Ik ik, to love me. Some fics are 18+ to minors beware! The characters consist of Leon Kennedy, Chris Redfield, Luis Serra, Ethan Winters, and Jill Valentine !! I love u all guys enjoy your Christmas !!!

1, December 7- 𝐌𝐔𝐋𝐓𝐈 "ᴛᴏʟᴅ ᴍʏ ɢɪʀʟs ᴛᴏ ʙᴀᴋᴇ ɪᴛ ᴜᴘ" Ada, Ashley, Claire, and Jill hc about baking for the holidays. wc. 000 - warnings. none - an. Merry christmas everyone im so excited to do this again !! ive in a funk lowk but i feel like events and deadline help sm :3

2, December 8- 𝐄. 𝐖𝐈𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐒 "ʙᴀʙʏ ɪᴛ's ᴄᴏʟᴅ ᴏᴜᴛsɪᴅᴇ" Ethan winters finally has a day off and wants you to stay over even though you have to go. wc. 000 - warnings. established relationship, slightly suggestive, reader replaces Mia and no Rose - an. guys i used to be a fein for Ethan and it used to suck bc no one shows Ethan love like Leon (including myself but still)

3, December 14- 𝐋. 𝐒𝐄𝐑𝐑𝐀 "ᴛᴀᴋᴇ ᴍᴇ ᴛᴏ ᴛʜᴇ ɪᴄᴇ sᴋᴀᴛɪɴɢ ʀɪɴᴋ ᴅᴏᴡɴᴛᴏᴡɴ" Luis was so certain that he was the best at ice skating even if he never has been on the ice before wc. 000 - warnings. none. - an. lmao i based this on an event that happened not too long ago. ice skating is so funny when people fall

5, December 21- 𝐂. 𝐑𝐄𝐃𝐅𝐈𝐄𝐋𝐃 "ɪ'ʟʟ ʙᴇ ʜᴏᴍᴇ ғᴏʀ ᴄʜʀɪsᴛᴍᴀs" Chris, is finally off for the holidays and is so happy to spend time with family and friends. wc. 000 - warnings. established relationship, married, dad!Chris, porn with plot, afab reader, size difference, quickie, piv, praising, creampie - an. With this being one of my many blogs, i have never wrote smut for chris or read anything with chris of i hope u like it :D

4, December 15- 𝐋. K𝐄𝐍𝐍𝐄𝐃𝐘 "ᴛʜᴇ sᴄᴇɴᴛ ᴏғ ʜᴇʀ ʟɪɴɢᴇʀs ᴀɴᴅ ᴛᴇᴍᴘᴀᴛɪᴏɴ's sᴛʀᴏɴɢ ᴄᴏʟᴅ ᴄᴏʟᴅ ʜᴇᴀʀᴛ" Leon wakes up in your bed to you between his legs only as a present because he’s not going to get one from her wc. 000 - warnings. unestablished relationship, cheating, no plot, blowjob, gn!reader, pet names, doggy - an. Guys i do not condone cheating but is lowk fun to write abt.

6, December 22- 𝐀. 𝐖𝐄𝐒𝐊𝐄𝐑𝐒 "ᴀ sᴘᴇᴄɪᴀʟ ᴋɪɴᴅ ᴏғ ᴄʜʀɪsᴛᴍᴀs sʜᴏᴘᴘɪɴɢ" Wesker hates Christmas shopping so he's going to has fun with you before he goes back to something he hates. wc. 000 - warnings. established relationships, semi-public sex (bathroom stall) afab reader - an. I also don't condone public sex bc thats disgusting but its hot sometimes

7, December 25- 𝐋. K𝐄𝐍𝐍𝐄𝐃𝐘 "sᴀɴᴛᴀ ʙʀɪɴɢ ᴍʏ ʙᴀʙʏ ʙᴀᴄᴋ ᴛᴏ ᴍᴇ" Leon has been gone longer than expected and is going to miss Christmas with you :( or is he? wc. 000 - warnings. angst, porn with plot, side fuck, afab, established relationships, bitter ending, pet names, slightly mean Leon :(, - an. gng are you getting daja vu bc i lowk tried

© OSLVNI 2024 - do not copy, translate, plagiarize or repost any of my works on any platforms without my consent.

[space-owl]

LUCIFERS ROLE IN HELL

First of *inhales deeply*

FUCK YEAH LUCIFER MENTIONED WOHOOO YES YES YES IT MIGHT NOT BE A DIRECT APPERANCE OF HIM BUT HE IS PRESENT EVEN WHEN HE ISNT PRESENT! HIM BEING RARE IN HELLUVA MAKES HIM SOMEHOW EVEN MORE POWERFUL THAN HE ALREADY IS! (<- Im very deaperate for content of my blorbo)

I dont actually think the sins do like Lucifer that much? At least currently they dont seem as if they do. He was the only one not present during the meeting. And I mean, fair, he probably is still dealing with his depression and cant be bothered. (Also he is owned my amazon so I doubt he isnt even allowed to show up from that standpoint gosh I wish Hazbin was still indie animated)

Lets start with how Hell was created in the first place.

By Satan it seems to be confirmed that hell existed long before Lucifer fell

But how can this be? In the first episode of Hazbin Hotel it was said Hell, aka "a new realm of darkness and sin" was created when Eve ate the apple.

However at the same time, evil and darkness did exist BEFORE hell did and before Eve ate the apple.

After all here its mentioned how evil was always a thing. It existed before. But when Eve ate the apple, it finally managed to reach into earth and into humanity. To me, it is a bit unclear where the evil existed before. But it is a fact that it was a thing. Maybe "the endless dark" Satan was talking about, was a realm of evil that wasnt "opened up" to human souls before? Neverless, it did exist and Satan was the ruler above and about it.

So it seems, Lucifer is the newest in the group.

And the other sins - or at least Ozzie and Bee - dont really seem to be fond of him. Look at the looks the two besties are giving each other!

I know its highly up to interpretation. Because Bee looks concerned when she looks at Lucifers throne. But when she looks at Ozzie she looks annoyed. And he looks displeased as well. It might also be a direct reaction of what Satan is singing. But the fact they both looked at the throne before and then away with that kind of expression tells me this is about Lucifer.

In the Hazbin Hotel playbill its mentioned how he is the ruler of the sins and the king and all of hell. And also how he used to perform with the Deadly Sins before. I do believe the sins and him had a good relationship before and they seem to be at least content with him being the ruler over them. Which is interesting to me, especially when youre thinking about the former leader Satan. Why would he suddenly accept a new ruler over himself? Especially an angel? Neverless, they did have a good relationship before but I am sure there was a fall out.

I really hope we do get more context of how all of this went down! I really really hope someday Lucifer will make an apperance together with the other sins!

[angy-grrr]

Just another queer ship

I know many of you just are here bc you wanted to see bkdk metas years ago -many have left since then, changed accounts, stopped getting my content, or just moved on to the work others do in the fandom-, but I also know some of you feel at least a little bit like me. You felt connected to this for many reasons, as many as the amount of followers I have, but I want to talk about me, hoping the ones that understand also get to have... something, I guess.

These ships were important to me partially bc of being my special interest, partially bc they are queer; I know some ppl believe its wrong of others to enjoy shipping "just bc they are gay", they just have been a huge part of my life and followed me thru different stages of accepting queerness on its own and on myself. Its kind of funny, how this started when I just tried so hard to be non queer and how it ended when I accept that im a genderqueer lesbian.

I remember back then I saw romance as that uncomfortable pressure of expectation and need of validation whenever an older guy (like young man I mean, I was like 13 so older guy looked like that) was in front of me -bc romance was always like that-, how picking a random guy means love, or how eye contact means im telling that guy Im interested in him. Because romance is always about a boy and girl just ending together as the ending of all stories -if I wanted to do things right, I needed that, I needed to show off a random guy to others, even metaphorically, as long as him and I were never completely alone (this "relationship" needed to be useful for something, for others to see how great I do this, how im a winner in life).

Its funny, isnt it? I really wanted this to be a subversion, to understand how complex these feelings can be and that a girl and boy can be friends and be so important to each other, that the feelings you have for someone "you arent supposed to like" can be real, and strong, and impact you forever.

I dont care about what we got.

To whoever is reading this, if anyone does at all, im guessing you could be another queer person who got their heart broke because the shonen that wasn't supposed to be like other shonen ended up like all the stories do. So to you let me tell you this:

Don't you dare give your heart for this. There are so many harmful many things in this world, and I dont want you wasting your spirit over a story that never cared about us. Im nobody to tell anyone anything but I dont want us to once again yearn for a queer story in the shows, books, comics and movies that clearly dont want us there.

Its normal to feel the overwhelming pressure in your life -there are tons of things to worry about, so many injustices- and wanting to find comfort in media, and how it hurts when the author takes that away from you. Im not telling you to stop shipping or consuming what you watch, im telling you to use that into something for all of us. There are queer shows, music, entertainment, communities, etc., and we can also use fandom spaces to create and see what makes us feel seen -thats the rule of fandom, if nobody has written it then do it yourself even if its ugly and imperfect.

The ending of THE manga that has been by my side for what could be half my life is everything I feared it would be, but Im the most queer I have ever been. The manga wasn't for us? Okay, I'll be part of whatever I create then.

[blus-witchy-blog]

Just bringing my two-cents in because i know folks who are into both shows; if you like masm, that's totally fine and i get why you would enjoy the show. but from everything i've read about how moon is portrayed, i can say i am not going to be a fan of this show. [and im def blocking the tags now, no matter how good some of the fan art i've seen is] if moon finally redeems himself [and if its actually written good and acknowledges how fucked up moons been], then ok i'll give the creators a couple points for that; but right now, moon is an absolute creep-and i despise how they've butchered his character. i know there's not a ton of moons personality show in the games, but i can confidently say he'd never doing anything like masm moon. now onto the topic of the love potion, i agree with everything above. while the creators made sure that all other characters knew how messed up this was for moon to do, this kind of content should NOT be in a series that's mostly [from what i've gathered] targeted towards the younger dca fans. or at the very least, has a large amount of child fans.

i was exposed to disturbing/creepy content like that before the nsfw-ban on tumblr, and it legit scarred me. i know that the show probably did this in far more of a lighthearted sort of way, but that can be the gateway to kids getting too curious. that happened to me. i saw slightly less and less innocent content in a fandom i used to be really into, got too curious, and was them bombarded with absolutely disturbing and disgusting content.

while yes, content like this can be portrayed in a well written way [and dark content like this can and should be ok to write, if done correctly], it should not be in something that so many kids watch! the non-consensual love potion combined with moons really creepy personality; kids are going to look at fan art and read fan fics portraying this, and it will lead them down rabbit holes that no kid should go down.

i know i'm talking about an absolute worst case scenario here-but it is a legit concern of mine.

and to my friends who enjoy the show, please don't take this as me attacking you in any way! please, enjoy the masm show if you truly enjoy it; but i hope you take my concerns seriously.

Cross posting from bluesky, adding more to my thought process as well since I'm kinda limited over there

I'm not a tsams artist and I never will be, I also don't like expressing opinions like this online But yall are cheering this on??? It's essentially assault, i already see ppl romanticizing it. As a long time sun/moon shipper im discomforted

And no hate to my loyal tsams followers, its not like YOU GUYS are the ones who wrote the scene. But assault isn't CUTE moon essentially drugged him and then kissed him?? And love potions are a reoccurring theme apparently?? You guys scare me, seeing my otp portrayed like this feels wrong.

There's a lot of themes from masm tsams etc all the spinoffs that I'm never going to be comfortable with, thats a me thing, but I feel the right to criticize something just this once goddamnit. Anyways im gonna go back to being quiet, like I said I'm not one to express things in public especially because i *have* seen people who go overboard with it and hurt others, but I also wanna be able to say I'm kind of disappointed and grossed out

[aleximustdr4w]

Holiness is a punishment that must be taken with hands folded

Fandom: My Chemical Romance

Pairing: Frerard

Summary: Frank has a secret that needs to get out of his chest, while Gerard, the local church's priest, will be more than glad to show him the way to redemption.

Content Warning: religion, blasphemy, SMUT & (some) BDSM!! keep out of minors. (or read it anyway, im not your mom. youve been warned tho)

Word Count: 4.8 k

Also on AO3

A/N: been having this idea in the back of my mind since I saw gerard dressed as a priest. Sorry if they seem out of character or it's not “lore/timeline friendly” but its my first time writing about them and I find their dynamic very... uhm, fascinating. (Loosely set in the early 2000s)

Divider by @animatedglittergraphics-n-more

Illustrations & moodboard made by me <3

"Bless me, Father, for I have sinned." Frank sighed, after making the sign of the Cross and closing the confessional door behind him with shaky hands.

The man kneeled down. There was a pause where the walls of the booth felt like they were about to fall down Frank's shoulders. All could be heard was his heavy breathing. He grasped the crucifix of his rosary around his neck in his sweaty palms.

The reverend waited patiently on the other side of the grid that separated them.

"It has been... a long while since my last confession." Frank swallowed. "These are my sins. Well, my sin." He folded his hands, with the cross between his fingers, still.

Another pause where Frank felt like he was being buried alive.

“I can tell your heart is in turmoil.” The Father broke the silence in a soft voice. “What happened?”

“I... I have feelings for another man.” The sentence finally burst out of Frank's lips like he spat out a handful of nine inch nails. He couldn't discern the pastor's expression, but he could tell he was shocked from the movement of his shadow under the yellow light that illuminated that cramped place.

“You have to help me, Father.” Frank continued, his eyes welling up tears. “I don't want to be led into temptation.”

The priest let out a sigh. “Frank, do you mind if we speak face to face?”

“Uh... no, I don't.”

Frank found it difficult to look Father Gerard in the eye after what he had just told him. But, after all, the priest was there on purpose to keep his misdeeds a secret and provide him guidance.

“How long...” The Father tapped his fingers on the hardwood, his gaze wandering. “How long have you been feeling this way?”

“About three months.” Answered Frank, drying up his tears with the jacket's sleeve.

“And does he... know about your feelings for him?” This time the priest looked at Frank.

The man struggled to get himself to glance at Father Gerard in the eye for more than a split second, but he forced himself to raise his head. The priest's green eyes were kind and understanding.

It all started three months ago, when Frank saw him celebrating the first mass of his mandate in town. What caught Frank's attention was the fact that Father Gerard would always wear a leather jacket, his joviality, and how the reverend's eyes would light up during his sermons, which really captured the true meaning of the Lord's word, in a way that no other preacher could do. That's when Frank realized Father Gerard was no ordinary priest.

And that's also when Frank began feeling the proverbial butterflies in his stomach when he had to get ready to go to mass every Sunday: he couldn't wait to go listen to what the priest had to say about that day's gospel and every time he felt like his mind had been opened wider and wider.

As time went on, Frank realized what was happening. He fell into a crisis, throwing himself into intense prayer, relying on the saints for advice and asking God to forgive him, trying so hard to deny the feelings he was developing for the reverend. He stopped going to mass and to confess, in the hope it would've helped his heart forget him, but it made matters even worse, to the point of madness.

“I don't think so.” Said Frank in the end, his eyes watery. “I've been praying to forget about him.”

“You don't need to forget about him.” Smiled the pastor, reaching for the man's hands. “God makes no mistakes: you have to accept your nature, because you were made to His image and likeness.”

Father Gerard's hands were warm and soft, bringing a comforting sensation through Frank's whole body. He felt like Jesus Himself was holding his hand. “But... isn't homosexuality a sin?”

“Don't listen to anyone who says that. They're just charlatans who speak just to give air to their forked tongue.” The pastor looked away for a moment, his brow furrowed. “May Saint Francis Assisi be with you.”

“Th-thank you, Father.” Frank murmured, wondering what the priest had to live through to make him say that. He's really like no other...

“Well,” Said Father Gerard, looking at his watch, “looks like your time is up–”

“Can I meet you after the evening mass tonight?” The words spilled out against Frank's will. “There's something important I have to tell you.”

With a bit of hesitation, the pastor nodded. He traced the sign of the Cross in the air with two fingers. “Go in peace. For now.”

The rectory's door closed with a loud thump behind Frank, while Father Gerard secured the lock.

“Welcome, welcome!” Said the pastor cheerfully, making room for the man to come in.

Frank looked around: the place was decorated with vintage dark wood and long, sumptuous curtains. It was a chilly November evening, so the fireplace was lit, giving the living room a pleasant, comfortable atmosphere. The priest removed the man's coat and hung it on the rack before motioning him to sit on the couch, where Father Gerard soon followed with two glasses and a bottle of wine.

Frank watched the pastor pour the reddish liquid with elegant movements.

“The blood of Christ.” Chuckled Father Gerard, offering him the glass.

“Are we allowed to joke about this?” Asked Frank with a confused smile, before taking the cup.

“Well, I am a priest. I have the right to joke about it.” The pastor smiled again, letting himself fall on the sofa.

They both laughed, raised the glasses and took a sip.

Frank couldn't dare to look Father Gerard in the eye, concentrating his gaze on the wine. “I haven't been completely honest with you.” He eventually broke the silence with a shaking voice.

The pastor tilted his head and narrowed his eyes, perplexed.

“I-I... Oh, Jesus...” It was too late to turn back now. Frank swallowed in his dry throat. “The man I love is you, Father Gerard.”

The priest stared at him, his mouth half open in shock. “Frank...”

"I..." The man let out a deep sigh. "I'm sorry." His voice choked up, and his eyes misted.

“I'm afraid this changes things.” Father Gerard's eyes darkened. “Desire for a man of the cloth transcends sin.”

Frank felt his heart sink and his whole face flush. A knot in his throat was forming, making it hard to speak, like in those nightmares where you want to scream and shout for your life but you feel like your mouth has been stitched shut. He lowered his gaze.

“That's why I want to show you the way to redemption.” Continued Father Gerard, a smirk crossing his face.

Frank looked up. “What... Do you mean?”

The priest's fingers moved to Frank's cheek, making the man's heart rate rise, unable to glance away. The lighting from the fire made Father Gerard's angelic features look more marked, giving him a sinister look.

God, this can't be happening...

As the pastor came closer, he looked up for a moment, whispering something about forgiveness and sin: Frank didn't understand what he said because of the blood thumping in his ears. But before he could process what was going on, Father Gerard's lips touched his.

The kiss lasted for what seemed hours. So much in fact that Frank, when the priest detached himself from him, was left breathless.

“So this is your idea of redemption?” Managed to ask Frank, in between wheezes. “Making things worse?”

Father Gerard blew air out of his nose in amusement. “You have no idea how I could make things way worse for you.” He cupped Frank's face in his hands. “You have no idea.” He repeated, stressing the last words.

Frank raised an eyebrow. “I would like to see you try.”

“Excuse me?”

“I said,” the man came closer to the priest, “I would love to see you try making things worse.”

Even Frank didn't know what happened to him: what was this newfound confidence and will to submit to sin? Was he drunk after just a sip of wine? Was Gerard the Devil himself in disguise and was he trying to possess him? One thing was sure, he was completely bewitched by the pastor at that point.

Father Gerard let out a soft laugh, shaking his head. “You don't know what you're getting yourself into.”

“If I don't know, would you show me?”

The priest hesitated for a second, but eventually got up and grabbed the man's hand: “Follow me.”

Frank heard the door close behind him, followed by a latch lock. The bedroom was very modest and ordinary, with a large crucifix above the bed and a desk in the corner filled with stacks of books and papers.

“Frank,” Began Father Gerard, putting his leather jacket on the chair beside the wardrobe, “do you trust me?”

The man, who was busy looking around, turned his head to the priest. “Father –”

The pastor raised a finger. “It's just Gerard to you, now.” He corrected him, throwing the clerical collar behind.

Frank nodded. “Of course I do, Gerard.”

“Very well.” Gerard smiled, walking across the room, reaching for an old-looking dresser that he pulled out from under the bed. It opened with a click after he inserted a key in a rusty lock.

That's when Frank's internal alarm started going off. While Gerard was rummaging in the dresser, looking for God-knows-what, the man thought of taking the opportunity to sneak away, but then he remembered he was locked in there.

“Ah, there it is!” Exclaimed Gerard, getting up soon after with a studded leather collar – wait, was that a ball-gag? – in one hand and a length of rope in the other.

Frank swallowed at the sight of them. Yep, I'm in danger.

“Don't give me that look!” Laughed Gerard, moving closer. He reached for Frank's neck with the collar, but the man dodged him.

“I'm not gonna put that on.” Protested Frank with a grimace.

Gerard came so close to his face that their lips almost touched. “You have no choice on the matter, sweetheart.”

That felt like a spell was put on Frank: his knees got weak and his heart started beating so fast, his head started spinning.

“Be a good boy...” Gerard nearing his lips against Frank's ear.

Those words went down Frank's spine like an electric shock. Something clicked in the back of his head. “S-say it again.” He swallowed.

Gerard chuckled. “Be a good boy for me...” He whispered, then he pressed his lips against the other man's neck, which made him inhale sharply.

All the thoughts about the fear of sinning went out the window as soon as Frank reached for Gerard's lips and they united in a ravenous kiss. They pulled each other closer with fingers running through their hair and exploring their bodies under their shirts and eventually Frank's one fell on the ground.

Gerard caught the occasion to press a hand on Frank's shoulder to make him fall on his knees, guiding him down without detaching himself. “Fold your hands.” He said eventually, while getting up.

Frank, who just realized he was kneeling, looked up at Gerard like a lost dog, but did as he was told.

“Our Father, who art in heaven...” Gerard began chanting, while wrapping the rope around Frank's wrists.

“...Hallowed be thy name.” Continued Frank, his eyes fixed on Gerard, in complete adoration. “Thy kingdom come. Thy will be done on Earth, as it is in heaven...” He swallowed, feeling Gerard's breath on his naked skin. “Give us this day our daily bread, and forgive us our trespasses, as we forgive those who trespass against us...” Gerard had just tied the knot with a tug. “And lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from evil.”

“Amen.” They both said in the end, before Gerard leaned in for a kiss.

Gerard's lips were soft and radiated warmth across Frank's shaking body: now that he had a taste of what he craved and yearned for months, he couldn't get enough.

“I think I had a dream like this once...” Murmured Frank once their lips separated.

“Oh yeah?” Gerard's eyes lit up. “Tell me about it.”

Frank felt his whole face flush.

The other's smile widened. “You're so cute when you blush.” He pinched Frank's cheek.

Frank couldn't help but feel humiliated over the fact that Gerard had this much control over him now, but what shocked him the most was the realization that he liked it. He had the nerve to provoke him earlier, but now that he had met his match, he immediately turned into a beaten up dog. And he enjoyed being Gerard's little puppy, all his to tease and torment.

“I, uh... This is so embarrassing, but...” Frank swallowed. "One time I dreamed that... I was confessing my sins, while... Uh..."

"Yes...?" Insisted Gerard, picking up a tick book from the desk pile.

"How do I put this... while..." Frank's gaze shifted from the pavement to the ceiling. "I was giving you... pleasure." The final words poured out of his mouth like a river gushing from its banks.

Gerard raised his head from the book to stare at Frank. "What kind of pleasure are we talking about?" He inquired after a pause, approaching closer to the other, who was making himself tiny by pressing his shoulders against his body.

“You know damn well what I'm talking about.” Scoffed Frank after a while with half a smile, suddenly gaining up the courage to talk back. Gerard already had him tied up; what's next, he was going to take his dignity?

Frank felt a burning ache on his cheek before realizing Gerard had smacked him across the face.

“Pride is a sin. You should know that, Frank.” Gerard's expression went dark; a sinister smile curved his lips while he grabbed Frank by the neck.

Frank was now forced to look Gerard in the eye. “Lust is a sin, too.” He managed to say, through gritted teeth. “You act like you'll be my savior, but you're no different than me.”

Gerard narrowed his gaze, raising an eyebrow. “Want me to show you?”

“What... are you... waiting... for...?” Frank struggled to speak.

“You just can't help yourself from being a little shit, huh?” Gerard tightened the grip,coming closer to his face. “I'll make you regret every decision that led you to this.”

“What if... that's exactly... what I want?” Frank was finding it really hard to breathe.

“Then there's no hope for you.” Gerard's lips touched Frank's.

Frank was beginning to feel lightheaded, his face turning blue.

“Having trouble breathing, huh?” Gerard smirked, squeezing a bit more. “Be a good boy and maybe I'll let you go.”

Frank tried to say something, but nothing came out of his mouth.

“What's that? You want me to choke you more?”

Frank shook his head, beginning to fear for his life. “I beg you, Gerard... P-please let me go...”

“Hmm...” Gerard lifted his gaze to the ceiling, as if to think about it.

Frank squeezed his now teary eyes shut. “Please, I'll be a good boy!” His voice was nothing but a whisper. “I promise...”

Gerard finally let go of Frank's throat.

Frank coughed and gasped for air, collapsing on the ground.

Gerard leaned over him to caress his hair. “You poor thing...”

His condescending tone got on Frank's nerves. The man shot him a death stare, while trying to pull himself up by the elbows.

“Aw, that look again?” Gerard leaned over him and inclined his head. “Don't act like you're not enjoying yourself.” He nodded at the man's crotch with a grin.

Frank looked down, unaware until then of his erection, visible through his jeans. He instinctively closed his legs, his face turning red and his body becoming stiff.

Gerard let out a giggle before helping Frank get up on his knees again. He caressed the man's neck with his fingers and tongue.

Frank didn't know what to think anymore: how could Father Gerard be both his butcher and savior? How was it possible he not only accepted, but wanted to be treated like a dog by him? He looked for Gerard's lips to suck on, to which the other responded with nibbling on his neck, where there were still the imprints of his fingers, where it hurt. Frank let out a soft whimper.

Shit...

How did we get to this...?

Gerard smiled, picking up the bible that he left at the foot of the bed earlier, without stopping kissing and biting Frank on the neck, lips and cheeks. “I called on your name, O Lord, from the depths of the pit...” He began reading, “You heard my plea – Do not close your ear to my cry for help!”

Frank nestled his face on Gerard's shoulder, kissing his neck, inebriated by his scent.

“You came near when I called on you; you said – Do not fear!” Gerard continued with heavy breath, but maintained his composure; he emphasized the last sentence, just like when he'd read the Lord's word during mass. He paused to sit on the bed, unbuckling his belt.

“You have taken up my cause, O Lord...” Gerard grabbed Frank by the hair and guided him to his lap; the other didn't waste any time, proceeding to unzip his pants with his teeth, noting that not only Gerard had already a hard-on, but he was also not wearing any underwear.

Frank turned up, as if in search of approval.

Gerard flashed him a smirk, shoving his face between his legs; then, he continued: “You have redeemed my life...”

Frank tasted Gerard in his mouth before he realized it, which was... different that what he expected, but then again, he never gave head to another man before, so who knows what he was hoping for. He managed to take it deep in his throat, stayed in that position for a bit, then he quickly pulled back, breathless; but that didn't stop him from lapping Gerard's shaft and kissing his tip soon after.

“You have seen the wrong d-done to me, O-Oh, Lord... j-judge my cause...” Gerard was beginning to stutter, to breathe heavily. “Y-you have seen all... their vengeance... O-oh fuck...” He inhaled sharply, throwing back his head.

Frank looked up for a second: with his languid eyes and half-parted lips, Gerard was the closest thing to a divine apparition he'd ever seen.

Gerard smiled at Frank, grabbing his hair and instructing him to keep going in between wheezes, as the other went down on him hard and fast, bobbing his head up and down, drooling all over the ground.

Frank felt the grip on his hair getting tighter and tighter, realizing he let out groans every time. Gerard, in the meantime, was becoming a mess, panting curse words, exhaling his name and praising him.

Frank refused to take a break until he felt Gerard's warmth running down his throat: the load was thick and plentiful, to the point that part of it spilled out on his lips and on the pavement. He detached himself before licking his lips.

Gerard, who watched the whole scene in astonishment, raised Frank's head by the chin, caressing his cheek with his thumb.

“That's the...” Frank finally caught his breath.

“The Holy Spirit.” Continued Gerard, promptly.

They both burst out laughing.

“What I meant to say,” Clarified Frank while Gerard helped him get up, “is that this was my first time with a guy.”

“Really? I'm guessing it's your first time with a priest too.”

“Well... It doesn't happen often, that's for sure.” Frank moved his hands towards Gerard. “Would you kindly...?”

Gerard raised an eyebrow and smirked. “I'm not done with you.”

The last bits of a smile that Frank had got wiped away from that single sentence, eyes wide. “Excus – ?”

The man didn't have the time to finish the question that Gerard was already behind him: his warm hands on his naked skin gave him the shivers for the temperature shock. “C'mon, it's only fair, don't you think?” Gerard whispered in his ear, his right hand wandering from his chest down to his waist and finally unbuttoning his jeans. “And... the confession is not over...” He continued, kissing and licking Frank's cheek.

“What do you me–?” Gerard pushed Frank on the bed, joining him soon after, straddling him.

“Hi.” Said Gerard after a pause, his face inches from Frank's.

“H-Hey...”

Gerard planted his lips on Frank's.

The other kissed back, trying so hard to move his head forward to taste as much as possible of Gerard's mouth; he would've grabbed his hair and pulled him closer, wrapping his arms and legs around his shoulders and waist and grind against him until he couldn't take it anymore and have him inside him, but all he could do was stay still, completely blocked by Gerard, who was running his fingers, tongue and teeth all over his body, which drove Frank crazy, making him a panting and groaning mess.

Gerard gently moved Frank's arms upward with one hand and put the other inside his pants. A grin spread across his lips while a moan escaped Frank's mouth.

Gerard began motioning his hand up and down Frank's shaft, slowly at first, then increasingly faster, while watching the man lose control of his own body, squirming and breathing heavily. “So, about the dream... Care to tell me now?”

“I... I was sucking you off while confessing my sins to you.” Frank blurted out, in between pants, diverting his eyes from the other man. “We were in the confessional.”

“And did you enjoy it?” Gerard grabbed Frank by the chin to force him to look at him in the eye, his other hand continuing to jerk Frank off faster and faster.

“Uh-huh...” The man admitted. “I... I touched myself to that. Many times.”

A smirk crossed Gerard's face. “You're so nasty...”

Frank felt a familiar tingle running through his body. “Yes I am, Gerard. I am a sinner.” That's the moment he sprayed his cum all over Gerard's hand.

Gerard brought his fingers to his mouth to lick them, crossing Frank's gaze and grinning.

“Uh... Gerard...?”

“Yes?”

“I want you inside me...”

Gerard shot a glance at him, visibly caught off guard. “Are you sure?”

Frank nodded, his eyes closed and his cheeks red. “Make me holy...”

Gerard blew out air from his nose, lying his face against Frank's shoulder blade. “Well... Since you're asking so nicely...” He gently pulled down Frank's jeans to the ankles, kissing and biting his skin until he arrived at Frank's inner thighs. “It's gonna take a while,” Warned Gerard, after lifting his head and placing his hands on Frank's knees, to spread his legs. “And I'm out of lube, too...” He added, more as an out-loud thought.

“Can't you spit on it?”

A short pause.

“You really want me to fuck your ass, don't you?” Gerard chuckled.

“I just think you're the right man to take my virginity.” Said Frank, giggling as well.

“Yeah, yeah, sure. No one's better than a priest at that.” Gerard talked back, spitting generously on his hands. “At least you're sure no one's gonna know it, huh?” He took position while lubricating himself. “Ready?”

Frank nodded.

Gerard carefully penetrated him, trying to be as slow and gentle as possible. “Tell me if it hurts.”

“A lil' bit.” Informed Frank, “But I like it.”

A groan escaped Gerard's lips as he went inside, leaning closer to cover the man's face in kisses as he motioned back and forth.

Frank closed his eyes, letting himself drown in the affection and pleasure that was given to him and searching for Gerard's lips to suck and nibble on in turn. “F-faster.” He murmured at some point.

“Hmm, what did ya say?” The other smirked, narrowing his gaze.

“Faster, please.” Frank swallowed, speaking more clearly.

Gerard gradually accelerated the rhythm, as Frank arched his back more and more at every neck kiss, every touch of the waist, every stroke of his erection, moaning louder and louder. “You're... So... Pathetic...” Exhaled Gerard in Frank's neck, in between three powerful strokes.

Frank let out a whimper of a wounded dog, making Gerard go even harder on him while Frank pulled him closer by locking his legs around his waist, to which the other responded by biting and sucking on Frank's skin near his shoulder blade that bruised almost immediately.

Their breaths harmonized as Gerard threw his head back. “I'm... I'm close...” He informed in between wheezes.

“Me too.” Frank nodded in turn.

Gerard kept going faster, his grip on Frank's waist tightening, while panting and cursing. As they both came – one inside and the other all over his own chest –, he stopped, his eyes wide open just as his mouth. He let out a loud groan after a second and leaned close to Frank, with a satisfied smile on his face.

They united in a final, desecrated kiss.

“Wow. Just... wow.” Gerard fell on the bed beside Frank, extracting a cigarette from a packet. “I haven't had this much fun since seminary!”

Frank giggled at that but didn't feel like investigating further, thinking that maybe the questions he had were better left unanswered for now.

Gerard lit up his cigarette. “Wanna take a drag?” He asked, looking at the man, after exhaling a cloud of smoke.

Frank gladly accepted: “Thanks,” he said taking a pull, “I forgot to buy some before coming here.”

“Now that you smoked my cig, you're my bitch now, y'know?” Smirked Gerard, as he took the cigarette from Frank's hands.

The other raised an eyebrow. “I thought it was very clear that I am your bitch now. Y'know, since you fucked my ass.”

Gerard let out smoke from his nose, amused. “You're right, you're right.” He flickered the cigarette to make the ash fall on the tray on his bedside table, observing the hickey he gave Frank on the shoulder. He reached out to touch it. “Does it hurt?”

“Yes. Everything.” Replied Frank, rubbing his wrist.

“Sorry, I might got carried away –”

Frank raised his hand. “It's okay.” He smiled. “I don't mind the pain.” As long as it was you.

Gerard gave Frank what remained of the cigarette and moved closer to him, wrapping an arm around his shoulders, while Frank, dragging smoke, put his head on Gerard's chest.

“Was I a good boy?” Asked Frank after a while.

“The best boy.” Said Gerard softly, kissing his cheek.

“Have I earned my way to redemption?” Frank asked again, looking at the other.

Gerard shot a thoughtful glance at the crucifix. “I think so, yeah. Three Hail Mary's and you're good.”

They both laughed.

They stayed in silence for what seemed a long time, until Gerard let out a yawn and got up from the bed.

Frank stood up as well, threw away the cigarette butt, then he looked for the rest of his clothes.

Gerard helped him get dressed up. “Oh wait –” He traced his finger up on Frank's chest, picking up a drop of cum. “I know for a fact this doesn't come off clothes easily.”

Frank put the other's finger in his mouth and sucked on it.

Gerard observed him with bewilderment in his eyes.

“What's that look about, huh?” The man shot a glance at him, presenting his best shit-eating grin.

Gerard let out a chuckle before leaning over to kiss him.

As Frank was buttoning his shirt and wandering around the room, he moved closer to have a peek at the notebook left open; in front of him was a freshly inked portrait of a man with his same haircut: long, black bangs and red side-shaves; he had red eye shadow and crosses drawn on his eyes. The lines of the illustration were thick and the colors used were bold, reminding him of the action comics he'd read as a kid.

“If you're wondering,” Explained the other, “that's not you. Well, at least not entirely. I like to take inspiration from people I see around me, and make... characters out of them.”

“This is awesome!” Commented Frank, brushing his fingers on the paper, afraid to ruin it.

“You want it? I can give it to you. Here, let me sign it.” Gerard picked up a marker, scribbled his signature near the portrait, took off the sheet from the notebook and gave it to Frank.

“Thank you so much!” Frank moved his gaze between him and the drawing.

“Thank you, Frank.” The other smiled, after giving him one last tender kiss.

As Frank walked home, he couldn't stop glancing at the artwork, imprinting a wide smile on his face. He sighed, as the same thought that he had before repeated in the back of his head: Father Gerard really is no ordinary priest.

[gamora-borealis]

hi callie i was wondering if you had any theological thoughts about phan vs jedus, im ex-catholic and kinda agnostic-atheist but i genuinely find your perspective on religion and christianity to be refreshing :)

oh thank you it is an honor to be asked 😭💖 this got really long so my answer is under the cut:

I had to go look the story of judas up again to refresh my memory on certain details because I feel like I'm mostly familiar with the simplified sunday school version in my head (I love theology/philosophy but sometimes the nuances of all the different tellings from each gospel get mixed up or forgotten in my head lol). If you want like, in depth info on the differences in the stories or arguments among biblical historians/academics about the historicity of his story I would recommend reading the Wikipedia article about Judas because it goes in pretty good depth and gives lots of citations and quotes like actual credible scholars that I read and not crackpot evangelical "historians" who try to claim that everything that happened in the bible is somehow 100% true and try to make all the gospels fit together when they actually contradict each other lol.

but essentially the main reason people even ship jedus is because in the text judas gave jesus a special greeting kiss on the cheek in front of the romans who were looking to arrest jesus to show them which guy they were looking for (he accepted a bribe for this). like I think it's more so a modern invention to make the kiss seem homoerotic or something, which like be my guest I guess lol I love making shit gay! some gospels claim he was possessed by satan, some claim he was just in it for the money, but I think it's agreed that he regretted it afterwards and didn't actually want jesus to die and so he killed himself (or had an accident after being very distraught).

but like, if you want to get real gay, john the apostle is referred to as the disciple "that jesus loved." although I have seen it pointed out that this is a bit biased considering that line is from the gospel of john which was written down by john's followers like a hundred years later. but still, also john was the only one of the 12 disciples at Jesus's crucifixion (along with Mary Magdalene who basically was a disciple but the church has tried to cover that up because she's a woman, and his mother Mary, and some other family friends who were also named Mary lmao). so like why jesus x judas and not jesus x john?? it kinda seems like childish "hehe judas kissed him GAYYYY" over like. the actual close relationships jesus had lol.

to be fair I don't think I've ever seen jesus christ super star or any other jesus inspired musical that may or may not have contributed to this ship being popular. but at least there is probably a narrative or subtext there that leads you to want to ship them, whereas in the straight up bible I'm like. idk lol.

but real talk like. dan and phil are so very like, drawn together by the universe coded (which in the kind of non-standard theology I ascribe to, God is the universe!) and are such an uplifting entertainment duo that bring joy and hope to so many people I'm like. If God and/or Jesus had to chose, would they choose this beloved real couple or the guy who betrayed Jesus and helped get him crucified??? Like please.

(also I could write an entire treatise on why theologically god is not homophobic lol I won't get into that, but whether that includes Jesus the historical guy who existed? idk he never spoke on that - though some people think he was accepting of a roman soldier who maybe had gay relationship with a servant but that interpretation is a bit iffy - but jesus did go against a lot of gender norms at the time by being a single nomadic teacher who hung out with single women and told men to leave their families and follow him and if we think of him as theologically supposedly being at the right hand of God in heaven nowadays then they would be on the same page lol).

To get actually theological about Judas though, there are people who believe that Jesus's crucifixion was a necessary in some kind of weird sacrifice for our sins situation (academically known as penal substitutionary atonement theory) which I just don't buy into that at all lmao even though it's very popular in Christianity, especially among evangelicals. so like some people might be like "well judas had to betray in order for Jesus to die which was a good thing" but I just straight up think that's a crazy thing to accept like why did God have to violently crucify a supposed version of himself and/or son in order to forgive people of their "sins" that is such a weird convoluted way of thinking but that's what happens when people insist on believing God is all powerful and then try to justify bad things happening. Whereas I'm a fan of the movement to replace the term "omnipotent" with "amnipotent" meaning God isn't all powerful but is all loving (and there are some better translations that actually support this there is a recent book about it by Thomas Jay Oord) and be like well sometimes bad shit happens that God doesn't support but God's gonna just keep trying their best!!! so like I don't think Judas had an excuse per se but also maybe Jesus was bound to be crucified anyways not because God wanted it but because he was like, building a movement to challenge the Roman Empire even though it wasn't necessarily a violent one (more like mutual aid, dual power type stuff rather than a direct, violent revolution - which some jews at the time understandably supported although it unfortunately didn't work out for them). But this is looking back at it from modern times. At the time you could say Judas sold out Jesus to the equivalent of the CIA or FBI or something, like even if he felt bad afterwards why are we shipping them... I guess people might be like "Judas had to do it for the plot it's tragic!!!" but for what other reason are we shipping them besides the betraying kiss on the cheek that was in a different culture lol

I did see some interesting arguments in the Wikipedia article about how most historians think Judas was real but some think he could have been an antisemitic invention by Christians, there's a very big messy history of Christians, like even in the scriptures, blaming Jesus's death on the Jews in a way that is just very antisemitic and probably not true so that's another interesting aspect to this as well.

Anyways this is my perspective as someone into queer, existential, process theology/philosophy that is ultimately pretty protestant despite me being a practicing anglo-catholic episcopalian who likes saints and catholic worship and some other catholic-y things lol (episcopalians are like the bridge between protestant and catholic lol). hope this big rant made sense, I got kinda hyperfixated and haven't had addedall today and have been procrastinating eating since before I started writing this so I better go do that now 😂

[colac3y]

Quite Quiet . •

. • spencer comes home late and gets comfy • .

. • 1.3k words - not proofread • .

. • from lace -- i was in the mood to write and i didn't really have any storyline so i just decided to do a little spencer kind of blurb..i did not proofread this so if there's typos my bad guys im about to fall asleep sitting up ;o • .

. • 11:13 pm.

You were sat, comfy and barely conscious on the big brown couch of your shared apartment. The light and noise of the TV kept you awake, but the warm weight on the cat purring on your lap made your eyelashes flutter, eyes threatening to close.

The soft push of the door made you squeeze your eyes shut a moment to wake yourself a bit, sitting up and bothering the cat. Opening your gaze up again, you see Spencer coming inside.. home finally. He was moving quietly, most likely hoping not to disturb the peace.

"..Hi," You hum softly, bringing the heels of your hands up to rub your eyes. The cat stretches and hops off your lap, bringing some of the throw that sat over you with it.

Spencer's gaze trains up to you, that familiar little smile curling down the corners of his mouth. "You were about to sleep," He states simply. He leans down a moment to place his satchel on the floor beside the door, but he stays down a bit longer when the cat brushes up against his leg and pushes its head into his hand.

"..I wasn't really trying," A soft smile graces your face as you pull up the blanket off the floor again. "How was the case?"

"Mmph, confusing," Spencer hums back. He softly steps into the living room, stopping a moment to glance at the TV before back to your form on the couch. "But, we caught him in the end." He shifts between the ottoman to sit beside you on the cushions. His arms go around your torso, drawing a little breath from your nose. "You should be in bed," He mumbles, giving a soft squeeze to your middle.

"...I was hanging out with Cookie out here." You say softly back. He buries his face into the side of your head, the warmth of his breath fanning over your neck. "She left me when you opened the door.." That stews a soft chuckle from his throat.

"She thinks she can trick me in to thinking you didn't feed her," He mutters into your ear from his spot. He's clinging tonight, which isn't rare when he comes home late like this.

"She's a fatass," you smile, your head burying into the top of his head. He shakes his head, his arms tightening around your middle, moving softly to try and bury himself into your side.

"Don't be mean.." He pouts, "That's my baby."

"I thought I was your baby," You whisper back, your head dipping down slightly to try and look at him, but his head is still tucked into you.

"Mmh." His lack of a response, aswell as his mumbly-ness, showed to you that he was close to knocking out. He confirmed with his next words, "I'm sleepy."

"I know," you hum in response. "Me too."

"I know."

You feel a soft nod against your neck, causing your head to tilt slightly towards him. You nudge your arm slightly out of its squished position, and spencer shifts slightly to let it go. You get free and snake your arm behind his back, hand resting on his side. He lets out a soft, content breath. You shift softly to lay back down again.

"Lay back, Spence." Your eyes train up on him when he doesn't ease up. Must've been the case, something about it. He looks down, lips parted softly, before he settles down. His head dips down to rest on your chest, he seems almost vulnerable. Small.

His body fits nice into the crooks of your own, his leg fitting itself between yours, his other knee brushing against your calf. Spencer's hand finds home on your back beneath your shirt, shifting upward gently and then back down again. you hum gently in response, fingers threading through his hair.

"I missed you.." He mumbles, his face buried into your shirt. His legs bring themselves up, to try and get some warmth, since blanket covers neither of your feet.

"I missed you, doctor." Your voice was soft and sleep-slurred. He smiles at your words, at your sweet sleepiness. You scratch at his scalp with gentle fingers. You were both quiet, your eyes trained back on the TV. It played on a random channel, some cop show like CSI or something, you weren't sure. You watched anyway. Spence was quiet, breathing you in.

His head stayed snuggled into your chest, his arm resting over your stomach as it rose and fell real softly. His hair sifted between your fingers, before you promptly buried your hand back in, pulling out gently and doing that over and over. The action seemed to soothe him. He was comfy, even still in his work clothes. You never understood how he could be in dress pants and 3 layers but still fall asleep under a duvet and 2 throws. It made you sweat just thinking about it, and you slept in a pair of underwear and a shirt.

After a bit of lying still, your hand comes from his head to his back, scratching your nails gently up and down the back of his shirt. His expression was content, as he moved to rest his cheek on the surface of your shirt, so now he could watch the TV, as you had been doing.

"...Is that what you do?" You mumble softly, a smile crossing your face. You were joking. Spencer swallowed as he watched the screen.

"No, angel. Well.. sort of. Sometimes. They're CSI." His finger traced soft lines up and down your arm as he spoke, his voice more gentle than usual.

"Mmh." You nod softly. "That's gnarly."

"Yeah." He hums. The screen showed a pretty bad crime scene, blood like.. everywhere.

"I couldn't stomach that."

"..Mhm." He's listening. He just can't find the conscious mind to respond properly. It grows quiet again, the two of you bathing in each other's company. His knuckles run up and down your arm with gentle strokes. Every so often you flinch at the touches.

He raises his head softly to look up at you when he notices your movements. His eyes brown eyes got big and sweet and his lips parted softly like they were when he got sleepy. "What?" Spencer mutters, resting his chin on you and holding his gaze with yours. He looked like a puppy, his eyelashes casting soft shadows on his cheeks. "Why're you flinching?"

"I'm falling asleep and you doing that wakes me up." You mutter, shifting again to rest your head back on the couch pillow.

"Sorry." He hums softly in response. shifting to rest his head back on you.

"Don't say sorry."

It was quiet once again. Comfortable quiet. After a bit, uou reach your hand down, to find the remote on the floor. "We should go to bed.."

"Mm-mm." Spencer was still, you could feel his breath on your collar. He didn't wanna move. He was content, feeling your stomach rise and fall beneath his sternum, feeling your hands brush through his hair and over his back. He didn't want to even think about getting up.

"Mm-mm? Don't complain to me when your back hurts and you have a kink in your neck tomorrow, honey."

"I wont." He snuggled his head further into your his voice muffled by your shirt.

"Oookay." You pat his back, scratching his shoulder a moment before moving your hand back to hang off the couch and search for the remote on the floor.

The TV turns black, the room going quieter. Spencer's soft breathing fillled your ears. He took the TV turning off as you two were going to sleep. "Goodnight, y/n."

"..Night, Spencer." you breathe, dipping your chin down to your chest to press a kiss to him, but you would have to sit up to reach. Your head lolls back onto the pillow once more. It's not too soon after that, that he falls asleep. He hasn't slept good for days, all he did was miss you. He couldn't bare to even get up and be off you.

Tomorrow, he would complain right when he woke that he had a kink in his neck.

[izusun]

i dont even go here anymore but omg i hate that extra volume/chapter.

not even a shippy thing - v much tied tho - but the disservice to the whole narrative was astounding. hori curated an arguably amazing story that transcends ‘clear-cut romance’ (basically just relationships upon relationships based on emotionality and connection, rather than labels) to focus primarily on two characters’ growth and show heroism at its core, and then next chapter we get is a turnover of that? no acknowledgment of the bond that took a literal life-or-death to build. sure whatever some would say that now that the dust has settled, they have time for romance (question mark cuz im still uncertain if it was leading up to that), but then can i say how shitty it’s built? to have chako use toga as a stepping stone on shit toga didn’t even gaf about? idk big things and emotions and frustration. my consolation is this - op’s theory that this was something forced onto hori. helps me think that the real ending was 430 - a remarkable jump back to deku’s first love which was, not bkg, but being a hero.

like mind you, i wasnt even hoping that bkdk would be canon bc we all know how shounens work but that thing about toga, and the rejection of bkg’s offer made me lose a lil bit of my rational self.

[xxplastic-cubexx]

you open my Super Important Documents and its just pictures of charles xavier

[carnivalcarriondiscarded]

i saw them in the cookbook pages and Immediately thought of this meme: