#love for your brother that is there for you no matter what and that cares so much that it hurts him

[bxunyx]

Attention prequel

Pairing-Elijah*Smoke*Moore x BlackOC(this can be x reader also)

Summary-prequel of attention

A/N-Enjoy and comment to the anonymous person who asks for this I hope you like it lovely

Request-You don’t have to write a full fic if you don’t feel like it. But if you can, can you please do a small fic of Smoke’d reaction when his girlfriend left town all those years ago, like a prequel to Attention?

It was a rainy night. Not hard. Just steady enough to sound like regret against the roof of Smokes' place. Arna stood by the window, one hand on the window seal, the other clenching the letter she wasn't going to leave. Because this wasn’t the kind of goodbye she could write. She’ll hoped to be gone by the time he gets back from handling business with his brother.

Smoke sat in the shadows, elbows on his knees, the glow of his cigarette dimming every time he exhaled slowly. He hadn’t said a word in ten minutes. Not since she told him she was going to leave.

“You don’t have to do this,” he said, but his voice came out tired. Not pleading. Just worn down to the wire.

She didn’t answer right away. She was watching him, her Smoke, the one with the voice like slow jazz and fists like iron. The one who could read a man or a woman with the same sharp, unflinching eye. Except he never quite figured out how to read her. That was always the problem.

“I got people waitin’ on me,” Arna said, voice low but steady.

He didn’t ask who. He already knew it wasn’t family. It was freedom. A chance to finally be free from her demons. Or maybe it was HIM.

“People,” he repeated, eyes not on you, but somewhere just beyond. “Or just that nigga who think he can take my place”

“That nigga dont know how to carry the weight of a woman like you,” he muttered, looking her in he eyes. “Not the way I do.”

Arna turned from the window. The air between them felt scorched. All that heat, but no light left.

“I ain’t lookin’ to be carried, Smoke. That’s the whole damn point.”

“Peace,” she said softly. “Freedom. The kind that don’t come with somebody else’s name on it.”

His jaw twitched. “You think I held you back?”

He looked at her then, really looked—eyes sharp and full of everything he wouldn’t say. And beneath it, she saw the hurt. He didn’t mask it fast enough.

She crossed the room, slow like she was walking on glass. “No. I think I held myself back, tryin’ to stay within reach of you.”

“I was tryin’ to build something here,” he said. “You and me—we had something.”

“You always needed the whole thing, huh?” she said. “Couldn’t just take what I gave.”

He stood. Slow. The way men do when they don’t know whether to beg or let pride do the walking for them.

“I never asked you to stay,” he said, voice catching like his lighter against a damp wick. “Only ever wanted you to want to.”

She crossed the room. Quiet. Careful. The dress she wore was simple, but her eyes—her big and brown eyes-were set on a horizon he couldn’t see.

“You think this is easy for me?”

“No,” he said. “That’s what makes it worse.”

He came to her then, and for a second, it almost changed. His hand caught her wrist, thumb brushing that spot just above her pulse. She didn’t pull away. Not yet.

“Every time that nigga touched you, woman—he only ever borrowed. I kept you. In every look, every word you never said. You gonna pretend that doesn’t matter?”

She closed your eyes. Just for a second. Let the pain bloom before she presses it down.

“It matters,” she said. “But it ain’t enough.”

He backed away, like her words had weight. He ran a hand down his face, paced a short line across the room. “Then what the hell is?”

“Peace,” she said softly. “Freedom. The kind that don’t come with somebody else’s name on it.”

“You walk out now, you walk out of all of it,” he murmured. “Ain’t no halfway with me. You know that.”

“Walk out that door,” he said, “don’t expect me to chase you.”

She leaned close. Close enough to breathe in the ache on him. “Ain’t no halfway with me either. That’s why I gotta go.”

His laugh was hollow. “So that’s it?”

She placed your hand over his heart. “I ain’t leavin’ ’cause I don’t love you. I’m leavin’ ’cause I do. And I’m afraid if I stay, I’ll burn us both down tryin’ to be what you need.”

Lightning split the sky outside. Lit him up for half a second. You’d never seen him look so still. Like a man bracing for a hit that never comes—but knowing it still might.

She walked to the door. Her heels didn’t click this time. The carpet soaked it all up like sorrow.

And then—right as her hand touched the knob—he said it.

“I’d’ve chased you, you know.”

She paused.

“I know,” she whispered.

“You gon be alright?” Arna asked.

“Don’t know. You’ll haunt me either way, woman,” he said

[sharks-fandom-madness]

PLEASE SHARE ALL YOUR JOSHxPETE HEADCANONSSSS UHHHG

FINE FINE I WILL I WILLL!!!!

Pete x Josh HCs:

Pete:

When the club first started, Pete genuinely didn't give a rats ass about Josh or anything that he did. He honestly thought that Josh was a pussy (his words, not mine).

Aka that leads to Pete calling Josh a pussy, the f slur, etc etc (going off of the canon where he calls Josh that over emails)

The two honestly have the worst dilemma when it comes to who's "more gay" since they're both closeted teens who can't seem to accept that it's not wrong to like a guy.

But as time moves on, Pete notices how sci-fi horror is actually really REALLY cool. Like, the gore, the special effects-- have you SEEN the first Alien? The chest scene is amazing!

Pete immediately does think about Josh when it comes to sci-fi (sure Bill likes it a little, but screw Bill! He'd shit on all 3 of them if it meant it made Bill look good!) And Pete would show these films to Josh.

And once you start hanging out with someone more- you notice things you do and don't enjoy about them. (Mainly enjoy)

He likes the way Josh snorts when he laughs, the way he gets so excited that he jumps (he'd never seen a dude his size jump and its impressive), he thinks is kinda cool how Josh can quite literally carry everyone in their group if he's mad enough and-

He likes how warm he is when they sit down next to each other. That his hands are really soft (clammy too) and feel nice compared to his overly calloused ones (I believe in his dad making him do a lot like his brothers and that includes manual labor)

Pete probably got the crush first.

He hates that Josh is NICE to be around. He hates that his hair is long like a girl ("you tryna look like one, Joshzilla!? Cut it off already!") But when he's in bed alone he always sees that damn ponytail when he thinks about a girl or a horror movie.. it just comes back to bite him in the ass. He's so screwed.

Josh:

Same with Josh: he didn't really care much for Pete. Especially since Pete would rip on him for his weight (but so did everyone else so..) but Pete was/is the worst about commenting on his sexuality

Just like in the comics- no matter how hard Pete hits, he thinks its odd he loves vampires so much. He accuses him of the very same thing Pete rips on him for.

Josh honestly hated Pete for a little. That was, until Pete would (occasionally) defend him if things got too rough. And, his respect for him subtly rose. He didn't mention it, nor show it... but, he likes that Pete was willing to stand up for what he deems right. Maybe Josh can do the same if things kept going that way.

They've both been harassed by Greedo318 so they would bond over that too. Josh usually bonds over his own interests, not really caring about Pete's.. but eventually, he came to somewhat understand Pete's love for special effects when he found out most of his favorite shows and movies do the same thing.

Watching horror movies with Pete went well for them. Even if he would sometimes get a little pussy about scenes with suspense (me too, Josh). He would always end up huddled next to Pete. Always grabbing him by the arm with his teeth chattering. On good days, Pete would rub his back and calm him. ("There there, you big oaf. Ain't no reanimated corpses in this house. Get over it, Joshy!") It weirdly calms him down.

Josh didn't realize he liked Pete until the group broke up. It was when Pete fought against Bill in the comic shop did Josh realize that Pete MEANT something to him.

Basic HCs (if they're dating or whatever 🐟):

Pete bites. Hard. He loves that Josh is so soft- its like biting into raw meat (which he vocally praises- much to Josh's dismay)

Josh is the more touchy-physically affectionate one. He wouldn't say it, though. He's always grabbed Pete by the shoulder, arm, shoving him. He likes to bump foreheads with Pete, and Pete LOVES it. Because it's "not girly shit". (And then cuddles into Josh like his life depends on it)

Both of them suck ass at kissing. Pete thinks it's all tongue and spit. Josh thinks it's just pecking on the lips and hoping for the best. Eventually, though, they get the hang of it.

Pete gets cold easily, and Josh is a heater. It's perfect for Summer and Winter. Pete puts his cold hands on Josh when he's dying from the heat, while Josh would let Pete burrow himself into him during the winter.

Pete can cook, and it's not that bad.. if he's using a cookbook. He uses his mom's old cookbook that he stole (if his mom were alive, she would've given it to him anyways) from home. He makes some great meals- and they're pretty healthy funnily enough.

Speaking of health: Pete actually would worry about Josh's health. Sure, he's great to cuddle with, but he's probably seen Josh at his worst and his horrible eating habits (not to mention his mom having heart attacks.. that shit can be passed down). So, he's going to cook for the two of them from then on. And make sure the big lug takes his proper medication and go to his doctor appointments to make sure he's healthy.

I think if they're together as adults, they'd fix each other up. Since, Pete with Josh and Jerry seem to bring out (somewhat) the better in him. With how much more pathetic Josh is as an adult, I think they'd just help than hurt. I know.. wishful thinking 😵‍💫

They wouldn't get a pet, though. Never. They can just barely pull themselves together now, they can't throw in an animal

If they're living together, Pete would still work as a Sick Mofo, but he wouldn't stick around as long after work (for you know what. 😟) and spend it at home with Josh. And Josh.. he's actually trying with college. Pete convinced him to take some classes for writing (he can't let him live in delusions all of the time)

Eerrmm yea I think that's everything. Hit that subscribe button 😃

If you have more questions about them you know where my ask box is :3 🐟🫧🐠🪸🫧🐟🫧

[cafecitoygorditas]

Tommy Miller

Last of Us Pregnancy

summary: short and sweet, pregnancy, fluff

a/n: ANYONE ever heard of fluff/angst everytime I search up this ALL ANYONE WANTS DO IS WRITE ABOUT SHMEX like I get it THOO perioddd

If someone had told you a few years ago that Tommy Miller would turn into the most annoyingly overprepared expectant dad in Jackson… you would’ve laughed.

But now?

Now, you stood in the doorway of your little cabin, arms crossed, watching him fuss over the wooden crib for the fourth time that week.

“I think the screws are loose,” he muttered.

“That’s because you’ve taken it apart three times.”

Tommy looked up, grinning sheepishly, his hair a little longer these days, dusted with gray at the temples. “Just want everything to be perfect.”

“It is perfect,” you said, stepping in and wrapping your arms around his waist from behind. Your belly pressed into his back, round and unmistakable now. “Also, the baby’s not even here yet. They don’t care if the crib squeaks.”

Tommy turned, leaned down, and kissed your forehead. “Yeah, well… I care. Gotta make sure everything’s safe. I made a list.”

“Oh God.”

He reached into his pocket and handed you a folded piece of paper titled “BABY READINESS.”

You snorted. “Tommy. Babe. You built the crib, you baby-proofed the cabinets, you stocked a pantry full of more diapers than Jackson even makes, and you’ve already asked Maria if she’d do night-watch shifts in exchange for coffee.”

Tommy looked like he was trying not to smile but failed. “I like to be thorough.”

You softened, looking up at him. “And I love that about you.”

He rested his hand on your belly, and just like that, all his teasing melted into something quieter—warmer. “Can’t believe it,” he said softly. “That I get to do this. With you. After everything.”

You rested your forehead against his. “You deserve this. A life that doesn’t hurt.”

Tommy swallowed hard, then let out a breath and laughed. “I don’t know what I’m gonna do when they get here. Probably cry like a baby myself.”

“You Miller’s are so dramatic .” Rolling your eyes teasingly as you thread your fingers through his hair.

He groaned. “Don’t say that. Joel already got emotional when I told him we had picked out a name.”

“Well, he is your brother. He gets to be soft now.”

Tommy smiled, looking down at your belly again. “Hey, kid,” he whispered. “You’ve got one stubborn uncle and cousin, one badass mom, and a dad who’s gonna love the hell outta you. That’s a good deal.”

You stayed like that for a while; wrapped in the warmth of the fire, the soft creak of wood, and the steady heartbeat of a man who had finally found peace in the ashes of everything he lost.

-

The world outside was still and quiet, as if it, too, was holding its breath. Inside the cabin, everything felt intimate and familiar. The weight of your newborn in your arms was a reminder of how fragile life was, but also how beautiful it could be, even in the midst of all the chaos.

Tommy sat beside you, his hand on yours, his eyes soft as he watched you with the baby. The fire crackled in the corner, the night was calm, and for the first time in a long while, the future didn’t seem so uncertain.

Ellie and Joel were nearby, the sounds of their quiet conversation a comforting hum in the background. There was no rush to go anywhere, no pressing need to fight or survive. You were content, here, at this moment.

As Tommy pressed a kiss to your forehead, you looked at him. He was glassy eyed and had a look of awe at the sight of your baby. You’d fought for this, for the safety of this moment, and you’d done it together. In a world where so much had been lost, you had found something worth holding onto.

And, for the first time in a long time, you believed that maybe, just maybe, there was hope after all.

The future? It was uncertain, yes. But for tonight, it didn’t matter

[starogeorgina]

𝐈 𝐰𝐚𝐢𝐭 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐲𝐨𝐮

Pairing: Jacaerys Velaryon × reader, Criston Cole × reader

Warnings: Smut, swearing

1.03

Seconds after the glass jug slips from your hand and smashes on the floor, the door to your bedchamber swings open, and Ser Criston, who was posted outside, comes into the room, sword in hand. His shoulders relax when he sees there’s nobody else in the room.

“No need for a sword, Ser Criston. It’s only me being clumsy.”

Sighing, he walks towards the broken glass and motions for you to step back, “mind your feet, princess.”

“Tis only a jug,” you whisper more to yourself than him.

Shaking his head when you don’t move away, Criston lightly pushes you to step back until your bum hits the edge of the bed so he can start picking up the pieces of stained glass. Under his breath he huffs, “It won’t only be the jug that's broken if any harm comes to you on my watch.”

“I doubt Aemond would lose sleep over it.

“This prince does care for you.”

You try hard not to laugh; Aemond’s actions of late suggested anything but a loving husband.

Closing your eyes, you shuffle back onto the bed; it’s only your legs dangling over the edge. Swallowing thickly, you lick at your dry lips and then open your eyes again just as the knight picks up the last shard. “May I ask you something?”

“If you must,” he says, sounding exasperated before even hearing the question.

“If an intruder was in here, would you truly have tried to save me?”

Surprised by the question, he thinks about it before answering. “I’m sworn to protect the king and all his family."

“I’m seen as a traitor, a follower of the one they call a pretender.”

While standing up again, Criston’s eyes lock with yours, and you feel a shift in the energy. “I don’t think anyone sees a princess looking for a queen to follow when they look at you; I think they see a girl pining for her mother.”

“I miss her dearly... Weren’t you once my mother’s sworn shield?” You already knew the answer, but pretend otherwise to get the knight talking.

“I was assigned as princess Rhaenyra’s protector when I first joined King Viserys’s kingsguard.”

The scent of crushed amber fills your nostrils, a smell similar to the one in the Queen dowager’s bedchamber. The pine-like scent was something you loathed in your previous pregnancies; it was a suitable excuse to tell Aemond why you were avoiding his mother. The lingering scent was a reminder that the knight's cloak wasn’t so white and pristine.

As you pull your knees to your chest, you smile and say, “That must have been around the time they started calling my mother the realm's delight. I’ve always wished to look like her, but I do believe I have my father’s nose.”

“I do not recall Ser Laenor well.”

Still holding the broken glass loosely in his hands, Ser Criston starts to walk towards the door, but you’re not quite ready for the conversation to end. “I’ve heard the rumours,” you say quietly, making the knight stop in his tracks. “They are rather unpleasant.”

He turns back around to face you, a nervousness you’ve not seen before on his face. “What rumours are you speaking of?”

“My mother and Ser Harwin. I know that everyone mocks my brothers and calls them bastards, but even if there was truth to the stories, it should not matter because they are good and kind.”

As was your sweet son.

Your fingers close over the necklace hanging around your neck, the symbol of the faith of the seven. Jace, Joffrey, Aegon, Viserys… you missed them. The thought of never seeing them again causes tears to swell.

Ser Criston’s gaze softens. “I think you look like your grandmother, Princess Rhaenys.”

—

While breaking fast in the morning, Lord Larys came to your chambers to inform you that a scroll addressed to you was delivered during the hour of the bat, but it was given to the dowager Queen. You were glad of this information but even more thankful that you weren’t alone, with two handmaidens and Ser Willis on the opposite side of the wall; the Lord didn’t stay long.

After making sure the children were settled, you go looking for Alicent, which didn’t please Ser Willis since you insisted he needed to stay with Prince Aemond’s children instead of being on your heels.

You find Alicent standing on the steps in the courtyard speaking with a redheaded man. The green on his clothes was a giveaway that he’s a Hightower. Unaware that you’re behind her, Alicent continues to slander your family. “The plan was most likely set in motion by her eldest son, the plain-featured bas—”

“Tis debatable, you say plain-featured, yet I’ve heard many young ladies say differently; handsome is the word most commonly used.”

“Princess”, her face falls when she notices you’ve done little to attempt to hide the cut on your cheek. “This is my brother, Ser Gwayne. I’m presuming you’ve come to gloat.”

“Gloat?”

The look on her face suggests she doesn’t believe the confused look on your face. “That houses Beesbury, Costayne, and Mullendore have declared for Rhaenyra.”

Many of the Lord’s and ladies walking by slow their pass to watch the interaction between the two of you, since it was now spread through the court by Larys how the former queen viciously ‘attacked’ Rhaenyra’s daughter, who was by all means being kept as a hostage. A slight fabrication, but you care little for how it made Alicent look in the eyes of others.

“And who would have told me?” Your brows pull together. “The letter that was addressed to me, what did it say? Was it from my mother?”

“It was from Rhaenyra eldest.”

“Jace…” a flicker of hope lingers inside you. “What did he say? I’ve heard nothing from my family on Dragonstone since I asked them not to come to King's landing to avoid more bloodshed.”

She looks hesitant to tell you, but when Alicent looks at her own brother, he gives her a nod. “It was in High Valyrian; the maester says it was something along the lines of ‘he’s waiting.”

“Nyke umbagon syt ao,” you mumble to yourself.

I wait for you.

Tears sting your eyes with the words Jacaerys penned, meaning nothing to others but everything to you. The last thing he said before leaving to return to Dragonstone was that he’d wait for you until the day came and you could finally be together.

Feeling a pain in your chest, you abruptly turn and walk away.

—

“I should really put him in his cot.”

Aerys was sleeping peacefully in the middle of your bed, but the pillows placed around him did little to keep your fears of him waking up and rolling off the bed at bay. He would be much safer in his cot where he couldn’t fall.

“He’s fine.” Aemond stands behind you and threads his fingers through your hair, brushing it to the side to expose your neck. “Both of them are in deep sleep; you need not stress so much.”

Your skin crawls. Although you once appreciated how desired Aemond could make you feel, the thought of him touching you makes your skin cold and stomach churn. Feeling his lips lightly press against your collarbone, you quickly push him away; the look of hurt and rejection is clear on his face.

Frowning, you fix your hair so that it’s covering both sides of your neck; again, you step away from him. Aemond had no right to be upset, but he was staring at you with a heartbroken look.

“You cannot bring yourself to forgive me.”

“Lucerys—”

“It was an accident!”

The sudden anger in his voice causes you to step back. Lip trembling, you force down the anger inside you that’s threatening to overspill. It would do little for your cause to have an outburst.

He goes to storm out of the room, but you step in front of him.

“He was my brother, Aemond. He was thirteen, and because of you, he’s dead.” With the back of your hand, you tenderly caress his cheek. “I am your wife, yet you made me choose between being with my mother or staying with my children. How can you expect me to forgive you when you act so cruelly?”

He grabs hold of your hand and squeezes it tightly. “Do you have any idea what Aegon or my grandsire would have done if you had left and returned for the children?”

“Aemond, you’re hurting me.”

“They would have strung you up for all to see!” He sneers, “sister of bastards, daughter of the whore of Dragonstone! Your body left to rot for all to see. They wanted to make an example of you, but I stopped them.”

You struggle to pull your hand out of his grip.

“I’ve spared you—”

“Father?” Cassana rubs at her heavy eyes; when she takes in the scene in front of her, they fill with tears. “Mummy?”

It broke your heart to hear the fear in her voice. Aemond lets go of you, and you rush over to your daughter and brush the hair out of her face. “You should be sleeping, my sweet.”

Scared, she cuddles you and starts to sob, “I heard loud voices and thought the bad men had come back.”

“No, no, they are gone for you, good.” You pick her up and then look over at Aemond, whose eye has now teared up.

“I'm—”

“Just go.”

—

Standing in front of the vanity, you carefully undo the twists and braids, allowing your hair to flow freely. A sense of dread creeping up on you.

Taking a few deep breaths, you mentally prepare yourself and then slip off your silky robe and now stand in nothing but a white nightgown. During the hour of the eel, the castle was ghostly empty aside from the king's guard and the servants who work during the later hours, so it was the perfect time to put your plan into action.

Coldness bites at your ankles as the thin layers of clothing do little to keep you warm as you approach your door, knowing exactly what knight is standing on the other side.

You feel sick.

Now or never.

After taking a deep breath, you open the door, and the knight turns to meet your gaze with a confused look on his face. His voice is low, “princess?”

“Might I have a word, Ser Criston?”

—

“F-fuck.”

Feeling Criston pressing the tip of his cock into you, a loud gasp leaves your mouth, but he muffles it with a kiss. Gripping onto your thighs tightly, he thrusts into you fully while pinning you against the wall.

This was the third time in the last week Ser Criston has entered your bedchamber during the late hour of the night to bed you. It didn’t take much to seduce the knight; you could sense he was stressed and needed a release, an outlet for his frustration. You were unclear if Criston was still having private visits to the dowager queen's room, but any night Aemond left from patrol, he made sure to be on guard for you those nights.

Occasionally you feel guilty; being deceitful wasn’t in your nature, but then you remember everything the greens have done to your family.

And why are you doing this.

When Criston’s thrusts start to become sloppy, you wrap your legs around his waist. Grunting, he breaks the kiss, but his lips are soon latched onto the side of your neck and down to your collarbone. While Criston’s orgasm grows closer, you try to distract yourself from how good he feels inside you by trying to think of what dress would be the best to hide the bruises possibly left behind from his mouth.

Suddenly he slams his hips forward, spilling his seed inside you. His warm breath fans across your face, and Criston presses a soft kiss to your lips and then your forehead.

“Gods, princess…” he whispers.

He pulls out of you and then lowers you to your feet.

“Goodnight, Ser Criston.”

After the knight leaves, you crumble to the floor. You felt sick with guilt. You had sex with Aemond out of duty and Jacaerys because you love him, but it was a means to an end with the knight. You needed to lure Criston into your bed for your plan to work. Needed him to believe the babe growing inside you was fathered by him. It would be the only way he’d help you escape kings landing with your children.

[wooahaes]

happy little accidents

pairing: non-idol!seungmin x gn!reader, ft. felix (helping seungmin) and wonwoo (reader's friend)

genre: fluff. established relationship.

warnings: food mentions (seungmin is cooking dinner). slight cake mishap.

word count: 1.5k~

daisy's notes: i like to think seungmin would be a sweetheart in his own silly way :)

“Okay… So what you’re going to want to do next is add that garlic into the plan and then get started on chopping the rest of your ingredients…” 

Felix spoke in a slow and calm tone, Seungmin’s phone turned up as loud as he could get it. Cooking wasn’t one of his strongest suits sometimes, and cooking a recipe he’d never actually tried to make on his own  before was… a bit daunting. How did you always make this look so easy? How the hell did you not give up halfway and decide to make ramen instead? Seungmin would marvel at you properly later, but for now he needed to finish dinner for the two of you. The bakery had been busy when he stopped by after his trip to the grocery store, and you’d be home in an hour from hanging out with your friends for a while. The last he heard, one of them had dragged you into the mall to look at a bookstore… partially because Seungmin asked for an additional distraction to ensure he’d be done by the time you were home. 

No matter. Wonwoo was a nice dude. Seungmin liked how he was like an older brother to you, and apparently Wonwoo liked the playful, witty way that Seungmin could tease you sometimes. Therefore, Wonwoo had been the first of your friends for him to ask to maybe help him out if he asked. He’d make it up to him later.

“Seungmin?” Felix called out. “Still with me?”

“Mmhm. I’m working on it.” He sighed. “Why is cooking so much work?”

“I told you I’d come help…” Seungmin could practically hear the smile on Felix’s face, only partially teasing. “I know you want this to be special, but you’re cutting it close.” 

He knew he was. And he knew you would understand: you didn’t take things like him getting a late start to heart. Stores were busy, life got in the way, accidents happened. All the little things you said to him casually, although he’d never fully figured out if they were more because it comforted you to hear it out loud or if you thought he needed the reminder sometime. Either way, it endeared him to you even further. 

“I can handle it,” Seungmin said after a moment. “But… Thank you, Felix.” It softened the blow a little bit. Felix could handle plenty, sure, but Seungmin knew that it was easy for anyone to take something to heart that wasn’t intended to be anything more than a casual comment. And with Felix helping him… The last thing he really wanted was for him to come away thinking that he wasn’t grateful for this. He’d sent the recipe to him and asked for the quickest way to prepare it without cutting too many corners, and Felix had apparently gone so far as to ask Minho for his thoughts as well before he called him.

It was sweet, actually. He knew his friends liked you… but it was always nice to be reminded that they supported this relationship. His phone buzzed against the counter, and Seungmin continued to work. You’d been texting him pictures and updates all day, little things that you saw that reminded you of him… including one dog at the park, although you promised you’d limit the dog pictures today (not that you had to: that was another little thing that endeared Seungmin to you). Felix continued to give him directions, occasionally being pulled over via the video call that Seungmin left staring at the ceiling to make sure that he was doing things right. If it weren’t your birthday, he honestly wouldn’t care so much. But it was for you. That meant it had to be perfect. You deserved the world, even if Seungmin rarely said those exact words to you: his love was found in silly quips and little things that made you laugh, and in a quiet “I love you” spoken after your laughter had quelled. Not in the sappy poetry that Hyunjin probably liked.

Seungmin had moved a pot onto the stove, water being left to boil as he dropped veggies into the pan to begin cooking. He had to make the sauce, boil the pasta, and then plate it all once you were on your way… 

The door opened. He heard the telltale chime of you coming home, and immediately his heart dropped into his stomach. When the hell did you say you were coming home? 

“I’m hooooome!” You called out with a warm giggle, the door shutting behind you. “Something smells great!”

Felix was completely still and silent on his end of the call. Seungmin called back, “I thought you’d be out longer,” hoping it sounded as casual as it could.

“Wonwoo tried to convince me to go to the pet shop we’d passed earlier, but honestly? I was getting tired.” You rounded the corner, stopping to see Seungmin cooking. “Want some help?”

“I’ve got it,” he said. “You should rest.” 

With a soft hum, you made your way over to where he’d left the cake on the counter. “I will in a second. Is this from that place near my work…?”

He only let out a grunt of affirmation, eyes focused on the pan in front of him. “You said you liked their cakes.” 

“Can I peek?”

Well, the surprise was technically already gone… “It’s your favorite.” 

You let out a happy hum in response, and he could hear the sound of you opening the cardboard box. And then silence. And then… “Seungmin? Who is Ji-woo?” 

… Ji-woo? He turned away, making his way over to look inside the box. Sure enough, the cake in there had been addressed to a Ji-woo, who was being congratulated on their own birthday. Seungmin stared at the box. When the…? How did he…? He looked at you after a moment. “... I don’t know.” 

In the background, Felix was already snickering. You looked back at his phone, and then reached for your own. “I’ll call. I think they’re open a little longer. They must have given you the wrong cake.”

It had been pretty busy when he was there… But the embarrassment burned, his face bright red as he closed the box. You’d already made your way out of the kitchen and to the bedroom, phone in hand as someone picked up on the other end. He made his way back to the stove, staring into the pot of boiling water. How did he get the wrong cake? He racked his brain for a moment. Why didn’t he check?! His name was on the box, so he just assumed that…

“You okay?” Felix chuckled from the other end. “Hey. I’m sure it’s fine. If it’s not something they’ll like, just tag me in and I’ll whip something up. I’ll even get Minho to come help.” 

“I’m going to die of embarrassment.” 

“You’ll be fine,” another warm chuckle. “Hey. All you’ve got to do is keep an eye on the veggies, make the sauce like the recipe tells you, and boil the pasta. You’ve got this. Tell them I said happy birthday, alright?”

He just gave a thumbs-up in view of the camera, Felix disconnecting the call a few seconds later. Okay. He could salvage this. He’d find out what kind of cake it was once he could take his attention away from dinner for a few minutes, and then go from there. Maybe he could joke that he was planning on changing your full name sometime, just to try and play it off a little bit better. 

After a few minutes, you returned, now changed into something cozier for lounging around in. “So there’s another Kim Seungmin who had an order today… and he has our cake.” You leaned against the counter. “Unfortunately, they managed to get him on another line and they went ahead and cut into it since Ji-woo’s impatient and also can’t read her own name just yet. He said it’d be a funny story for when she was older, though.” You crossed your arms, smiling. “The good news is that the only thing different is the icing colors. It’s a pretty popular cake.”

“So we don’t have to change your name,” he said with a hum, hoping that he seemed as cool as he hoped he did. “That’s good.”

It made you snort a little. “Not today, at least. Was Felix helping you?”

Seungmin nodded. No point in lying to you now. “I needed a little guidance.” 

“Nothing wrong with that,” you shrugged. “Wonwoo said hi, by the way.” 

“Felix said happy birthday. And that he’d bake something if the cake wasn’t something you’d like.” 

Another happy hum. “How sweet.” 

The moment he could take his hands off of dinner, he turned, making his way over to you. He pulled your face in, kissing you on the lips before pulling back. “Happy birthday, by the way. I think you’re cool.” 

The comment had made you snort again a little. I think you’re cool had been the way you confessed to him, before actually telling him that you liked him. “Thank you, my sweet.” You pecked his lips one more time before he could leave you. “I think you’re cool, too.” 

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Locked Out of Heaven 2

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as dubcon/noncon, power imbalance, age gap, and other possible triggers. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: Your father invites a work friend to the neighbourhood barbecue.

Characters: Nick Fowler (Dad’s friend trope)

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me <3

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Asking for more or putting ‘part 2?’ is not feedback.

Love you all. You are appreciated and your are worthy. Treat yourself with care. 💖

It starts to get dark but there are voices still. You haven't bothered going to dump your plate in the bin in hopes of avoiding another awkward encounter. Usually, you can wait these things out. Not tonight.

You swat another mosquito before it can bite your neck. You grunt and look at your hand. You wipe the guts on the stone beneath you. Ugh.

You yawn. You can probably sneak by. You're pretty sure no one would notice. When do they ever?

Well, your dad notices everything you do wrong. Or your brother calls attention to anything that might suddenly become an offense. Or there's Nick. He noticed you. Why, you can't say.

A gassy belch draws you from your indecision. You look up in disgust as a shadow lumbers around the pushes, grumbling as the thorns scrape their arm. The man smacks the roses and yipes, rubbing his hand from another jab.

"Bastard," Jethro garbles and burps again. You can smell the liquor on him. "Eh, there she is," he stops, swaying as the lamplight from further up the lawn peek through the vines. "I knew you been hiding from me. Uncle Jethro gets no hug?"

You stare at him dumbly. "Uh, sorry, no I don't..."

He staggers towards you and spreads his arms wide. "Come on. Just one hug for Uncy."

You scrunch your nose. He's not your uncle. You wish he'd stop saying that.

"Please, I don't like hugs." You lean away from him.

"That ain't nice, is it? I'm always nice," he snarls and grabs your arm. "Mm, you're really growing up. Good thing you don't look like Charles."

He yanks you and as you resist, you slide off the rock. The sudden shift in your weight teeters the drunken man and he falls on top of you. He cackles as you writhe beneath him.

"Eh, gettin' frisky," he laughs as his hand crawls up your side. You whimper and whine as he crushes you. "I won't tell if you don't--"

His words are choked from him as suddenly the pressure lifts off of you. Jethro coughs as another figure holds him by the scruff of his shirt. You push yourself up on your elbows as Nick holds him like a puppet.

"What are you doing? That how you treat young ladies?"

"She was asking for it--"

"Didn't sound like it," Nick spins him and shoves him into the roses. Jethro jowls as he recoils and pulls a thorn from his cheek. "Get the fuck out of here, Briar."

"Fowler," the other man slurs bitterly. "Fucking upstart."

Jethro stumbles away in a slew of grumbles. You stare after him, your heartbeat receding to a less thunderous temp. Nick turns to you and offers his hand.

"Never liked that guy," he says. "You alright, princess?"

You gulp and take his hand. He pulls you. Easily. You're not that surprised, not after you saw his arms. You try not to think of that in the moment.

"Thanks, I... I think," you let him go and fold your arm across your chest. "I... I'm sorry."

"You're sorry? For what?" He wonders.

"I don't know, I guess... causing trouble."

"Don't think it was you," he intones. "Just glad I heard that idiot. You sure your okay?"

"Uh huh," you nod.

He steps close and you flinch. He shows his palm. The shadows pool and keep him obscured. Only his silhouette is limned by the faint light drifting between the buds.

"You just..." he touches your hair. "There, got it." He pulls away the long strand of grass. "Better." He tilts his head. You feel him looking at you but can't see his eyes. "Perfect."

You look down. Your cheeks pinch and burn. "Thanks."

"No problem," he flicks the grass away. "You should go inside. It's dark out here."

"Um, sure." You turn and pick up your plate. You stand straight and face him again. "I'm sorry."

"Princess, no more sorrys," he drawls. "You just go inside and take care of yourself. That's what you can do for me. Take a hot bath and get yourself tucked in."

Something about his voice, about the air around him, makes you quiver. His words are nothing special and yet they feel like more. Like he's even picturing you in the bath. That thought makes you squeak.

"You alright?" He asks a third time.

"Fine," you insist. "I-- I gotta go."

You flit by him. A twig snaps under him as you brush by and he lets out a surprised grunt. You hurry away, too mortified to look back. You're so stupid. You know it's all in your head. That he wasn't really saying anything but what he said. Stupid, stupid, stupid. You know better than that. He's too old and too handsome. And you shouldn't even think that last part.

💜

You sit on the back deck, your textbook cradled in your lap, notebook leaning on one side. Your dad never liked you taking notes on your laptop. You don't remember when you do it that way. He read that somewhere. Besides, he paid for that computer so you better take care of it.

The sun beats down as you hunch over your work. It's one of two summer classes you're taking. Everyone else you know in your stream are on vacation but you're plucking away. Dad says if you take a half-load in the off-season, you'll finish sooner and can start on grad school sooner. That means you'll be on track before everyone else. You're in no rush but it would probably get you out of his house quicker and that's likely just as much his reasoning.

The gate squeaks. You don't look up. You assume it's Austin sneaking in after another bender at Colin's place.

"Good book?" They stop on the top step.

You sit up so fast it makes you dizzy. You blink away the silver stars. Nick smirks as he grips the railing and leans on one foot.

"Oh, um... advanced biology." You fidget with the highlighter nervously. It slips out of your grasp and rolls across the deck.

Before you can get up, he scoops the marker off the wood. He approaches and holds it out. You reach for it with a murmured thanks.

"You must be dying out in the heat," he muses.

"Shades not bad," you look up at the umbrella over the patio table. You're in capris and a loose tee. It's not as bad as jeans.

"Guess not," he agrees. He's in a jacket and button-up. He's probably feeling it more.

"I don't know if my dad's around," you say.

"Sure," he says. "No problem. I was just hoping to give him that bottle of scotch."

"Oh..." You're never good with visitors. He's more difficult as you try not to focus on how soft his hair looks.

"I guess I could leave it with you... unless..." he narrows his eyes. "How old are you?"

You sniff, "twenty-one."

"Old enough," he winks and puts the dark bottle on the table. "So... how are you?"

"I'm... good?" You tap the highlighter on the notebook. "Um, you?"

"Good, good." He plants his hand on the table and leans in. "You have a good night after the barbecue? Take that bath?"

"Er... showered," you utter dumbly.

His eyes are lit by the sunlight. It brings out his features even more. The contrast of his hair and irises is almost hypnotic.

"I thought classes were over," He looks at your lap.

"Oh, uh... summer term."

"Summer term? No fun?" He clucks. "Or did dad make that decision too?"

You shrug. You push your teeth into your lower lip and look at the bottle of scotch. "I'll give him your gift."

"Or maybe... there's a cute guy in summer classes?" He suggests.

You snort then shield your nose and mouth behind your hand. You shake your head. "No."

"No? Well, maybe I could sign up." You look at him, confused. He chuckles. "Kidding. Well, don't work too hard, princess. Woman like you, she needs some pampering. Be good to yourself."

"Sure, uh, er, I'll tell dad you were here."

"You can." He stands and taps two fingers on the table. "I'd be lying if I said I just came here for him."

His brows rise and he smirks. He turns slowly and saunters across the deck. You stare, unable to do more than that. He can't mean you. You're misunderstanding.

💜

Your dad's voice booms up the stairs. That's never good. You push your laptop onto the bed and bounce off it. What did you do now? Or is there something you didn't do?

You rush out of your room and down the stairs. You stop at the bottom, breathless. He's not alone. You're mortified.

"There you are. So, where'd you hide it?" He accuses.

You look between him and Nick. It's been a week since the barbecue, half as long since you last saw him. You shake your head.

"Where did I hide what?" You ask.

Your dad sighs. "Nick told me he gave you some scotch."

"Oh, in the cabinet. You told me to put it there."

"Or you put it there and forgot to tell me," he scoffs.

"Ah, take it easy, Chuck. Mystery solved. No harm, no foul," Nick lightly wraps your dad's arm with his knuckles. "Seems like you could use a drink, huh?"

"Sure," your dad grits as he glares at you. "Why don't you go wait in the den?"

Nick lingers for a minute as he sends your dad a look, then you. He backs up slowly then turns on his heel. He tucks his hands in his pocket as he passes through the square doorway.

Your dad steps closer and lowers his voice, "put a bra on. You're being gross."

You flinch and look down. You hug yourself. It's almost nine and you weren't expecting company. You're in a cotton camisole and your coziest pajama pants.

"Sorry, I didn't--"

"Go," he shoos you meanly with his fingers.

You pout and turn away. You go back upstairs as he heads for the den. How embarrassing. Not just the way he talks to you but your carelessness. Did Nick notice? That idea makes your chest twinge.

You go into your room and shut the door. You go to your dresser and look in the mirror above it. You drop your arm. Your nipples poke against the fabric. There's no way he didn't see. Oh gosh.

You cover your tits with your hands but the feeling of your hard nipples makes your pelvis flicker. That's strange. You press your palms snugly to your chest and squeeze. As you do, you picture Nick behind you. You're startled at the image of his hands on you instead of your own. You gasp and rip your hands away.

You're breathless as you gape at yourself. You can't look away from your nipples. You bite your lip and run your hands over your tits again. You hook your fingers under the camisole and pull the cotton down to expose yourself. Your eyes round.

Would he like how they look? Stop! But you can't. You cup your tits then squeeze them. Do they feel nice? You bounce them and turn to the side. They're all the same, right? You brush your thumbs over your nipples and shiver. Just fondling yourself is making you feel... squidgy. Is that a word?

You pull your shirt up and back away. You shiver and go to your bed. You sit. You blow out a long breath.

This is bad. Very bad. Your mind tends to do this. You spiral into these thoughts and get so lost.

Nick is Nick. He's your dad's friend. He's older than you. A lot older than you. He doesn't want a loser like you.

You squirm as you feel something in your pants. It's... wet. You trace along the elastic of your pajamas and lift one side of your butt. You reach beneath you and feel the slickness along your cunt. You squeak.

You're not stupid. You know biology. You study it. But you're not experienced. You just never really put much into it. You figured all that stuff could wait, if it ever happened. You just never wanted it but right now, you feel like you need it. Desperately. It thrums like your pulse.

You can handle this. It won't be that hard. It will go away. All you have to do is avoid Nick and it's not like you'll see him that much. He's busy and you're busy. He has all his work at the agency and you have your studying. Besides, he could never want you like that. He's only nice because of your dad.

[chrismoans]

“it's gonna hurt, because we did it first.”

(warning: smut, p in v, unprotected, manipulation?)

After a summer of heated secret hookups between you and Chris, he broke your heart when he rejected your wish to come clean to his brothers and become more than a notch on his belt. you hated how used he made you feel that day so much so, you’ve been committed to avoiding him ever since. coincidentally during your time apart you and matt grew closer, your friendship with matt’s always been real and sweet. you both have always been curious if it could potentially become something more, so you recently agreed to test the waters. nothing too serious, just some extra affection and hand holding for right now.

Chris doesn’t mind giving you the space and time you need to get over your little puppy crush on his brother, he’s well aware of the addiction for his touch you won’t ever fully heal from no matter how hard you try to pretend he doesn’t exist anymore.

so, he knows exactly what he’s doing, burning his eyes into the back of your head the way he does to keep a close eye on you and matt’s every move. though you try your best to hide that you notice, he knows you do.

laying cuddled up next to matt in his bed doesn’t feel foreign at all in fact it feels easy and warm. but it also doesn’t feel right. you know why of course but refuse to admit it to yourself. you can’t help but wonder what it’d be like to have him over you. you know it’d be safe, easy, and fun even… but it wouldn’t be Chris. though you’d love to cross the one line that would make Chris back off and forget the time you spent together, the idea of that alone made you nauseous. sure, you love matt. but not enough. he’s not Chris.

one night Chris comes out of his room and sees that matt fell asleep on the couch and makes his way up to matt’s room to see if you’re awake up there. of course, you are- you haven’t been able to sleep much recently, unable to stop thinking about the whole situation you’re in.

“Why you not with your boyfriend downstairs?” he walks in like it’s his room, the word alone making you hold your breath for a moment. “Very funny, get out.” you don’t even look at him. you’re afraid he’ll see through you like he always does. but he doesn’t care, he helps himself to the spot beside you under the covers. “Chris- “you roll your eyes, he knows what he’s doing to you once again. “c'mon. you miss this.” he smirks at you, making himself comfortable. you immediately realize how different if felt than when Matt's in that spot- not just easy and warm, but like you’re home. the faint scent of Chris’ cologne covering the air around you. you wanted so badly to rest into his white tee but instead you stand up. “If you don’t get out I’ll go sleep on the couch with matt then.” you snap. but he does it- he sees right through you.

“Tell me you don’t want me anymore, then I’ll leave you alone.” his brows raised, voice teasing. god you hate him. but God, you love him. you say nothing. but you don’t have to, he knows what you want to say. he quickly repositions himself at the edge of the bed in front of you to pull you in by your waist. “Tell me you want me to let go of you, I’ll let go.” his eyes devilishly peaking up at you. and you still don’t move. like you can’t. he’s face to your chest, smugly satisfied to see you stiff and quiet as he paints your waist with his fingers.

you swallow hard before instinctively falling onto his lap like your knees gave out, thighs on each side of his, and just stare at him for what feels like ages, unable to stop your expression going soft, giving up in front of him. with one quick gasp he locks his lips to yours. his familiar taste you’ve been craving for weeks sending butterflies fluttering in your stomach and stars behind your eyelids until you snap out of it for a moment. “Tell me you want me, and I won’t walk away for the last time.” you warn him. your chest beating fast in your chest silently praying he says it, not trusting you’ll follow through if he doesn’t.

“of course, I want you.” he whispers in a now serious gentle tone and that’s all it takes for you to fall apart. leaning into him until his back reaches the mattress, basically knocking him over with the pressure of your lips against his. you’re so quickly drunk on him. his scent, his taste, his touch. and he knew exactly how easy it’d be. not another useful thought enters your brain as you rush to pull his shirt over his head and get to unbuckling his belt as his hands work their way to slide your clothes quickly off of you too, with a few tugs around your ass and thighs in between. he sweeps you from over to under him in one quick motion once you’re fully unclothed.

“I don’t just want you; I need you.” he mumbles into your neck, the warmth of his breath hitting it, and hearing those words finally made you realize he's just as addicted to you as you are to him. “Then take me.” you struggle but manage to slip the words out past catching your breath just barely. your whole body does one big shift forward as he fills you, not bothering to waste any time. “c-Chris. f- fuck.” you nearly cry out as he doesn’t let you adjust to his length, thrusting into you like all you have is right now, he’s been too starved for it. dizzy on the feeling of him having his way with you, the adrenaline making your chest raise and fall rapidly, your head spinning hearing his shaky moans against your neck. it doesn’t take long for your orgasms to come crashing over both of you in sync. legs trembling, hips jerking, noises escaping your mouths loud enough to let the house know what you’re doing in matt’s bed. for the first time ever, he shamelessly cums inside of you. the warm full feeling making your walls flutter around him as your back arches into his chest, taking him all in. “f-fuck.” he nearly yells dropping beside you.

“You can leave now.” you smirk at him before he's even done catching his breath. two can play his game.

[jaggedamethyst]

wait okay this is kind of silly and i know lots of people think jayce is bi but how do u think he’d react to a bi reader!! (asking for a friend…. or myself)

jayce reaction to bi reader!!

(not silly at all)

requests!

in canon i feel like jayce 100% loved viktor in a way that was not platonic. i think he loved him romantically and the emotion was often misplaced and had him acting irrationally bc he couldn’t conceptualize what it meant for him personally to be in love with viktor. he did so many things that early season 1 jayce wouldn’t have done…literally died because he promised another version of viktor he’d fix things. that’s insane and a deep love. brothers my actual ASS HOLE.

because of that, i don’t think he’d outright say anything about himself, but accept your admission like it was the simplest thing ever. i think jayce being a science nerd means that he’d reason the probability of people loving who they do, regardless of gender, is a normal thing. he'd likely also question why more people didnt live that way...to be fully in love with their person no matter who it was...no matter what the societal implication could be.

he wouldn’t shrug it off…unless that’s what you wanted. he’d completely follow your lead and examine your feelings about it and act accordingly. he could be rash, but he's still emotionally intelligent. he knows people, often examining the way social situations work in order to fit in better himself…so he’d let you hold the reins.

if it’s something you struggled with, he’d absolutely make you feel loved by him. he'd nestle into you, listening to your ramblings about whatever was ailing you...completely loving that apprehension away.

if it’s something you just wanted to tell him, a quick off-hand comment, he’d offer you a quick kiss before resuming his work. the best moments between you were ones where he and you sat silently, an acknowledgement of how perfect the time you had with each other was when just existing.

its not that he wouldn't care...jayce absolutely would. it's just another trait that makes you who you are, another piece of you that he's so utterly grateful to be able to love.

[leslie057]

miniature. he was miniature.

and when he turned ten he shot a rabbit and cried ALL WEEK. thats a seven day cry. is that not the worst thing youve ever heard.

[fellsparks]

No amount of shadow could drown out someone as vibrant as Fogado, whether he chooses to believe it or not. She understands the need for secrecy in these affairs, but she laments that others do not get to know him in the manner that they should. Yet once again, underneath all of the pain, his reasoning comes from a place of kindness-- a place of care for those around him, even for a stranger that doesn't know his station. It's refreshing, to hear him drop the façade he strives to uphold, instead giving himself a moment to breathe. If it is her who can share in his secrets, with this she is fine: for the words he's spoken to her will be locked within her mind for thousands of years to come. There's plenty of things she's taking to the grave. One more is nothing. "You owe me no apology," The corners of her lips are already turned upwards into a smile upon hearing the peal of laughter that she so desperately wished to witness from the beginning, and Nel can't stop the deep chuckle that reverberates within her own chest. "Yet if you seek to give me one regardless, then I will accept this exchange as penance." "For what it is worth, you are not alone- from this moment onwards. If you require a push forward to set you on track, I will be there to provide it." The vow she's given to the Divine One in her head, to protect that which she could not in a world forgotten; this time, to the boy before her that will never meet as bitter of a fate as his reflection did. For as long as she draws breath, this world will never fall to such ruin, no matter the cost. "We are not bound by blood or obligation. I make this choice to stand beside you of my own volition." It always came back to choice, didn't it? The choice to love her brother who was once an impostor, the choice to bear sacrifice so that her loved ones may live on-- and now, the choice to keep him close to her heart. The choice to accept his flaws in all of their beauty, though Fogado believes them to be ugly and detestable. "Your secret is safe with me, Fogado. The stage is yours- for this moment, this is your spotlight. And I am watching."

-- End!

against my tide

toaball2025 cont. from here

[tactful-kind-daedra]

Daedra jerked a bit from the sudden shock of Ingo's words. Her head immediately turned towards the man on the cot, staring with wide blue eyes, as if she were unsure the words she heard were real. However, any doubt she had was pushed away as Emmet seemed to echo his brother's sentiment. Daedra's smile returned without any effort on her part... no intention, no forcing. Just seeing them come to terms with the realization was more than enough.

"Please don't take it so hard, Mr. Ingo," the young woman offered gently, taking a step closer but still allowing a comfortable distance. "You were just trying to do what you thought best! No one can fault you for that, and besides, you're amending to do better and mind yourself properly! That's all that matters!"

It was a shame he had to suffer in this manner but... there were worse alternatives. Daedra was aware of that, so best to be thankful Ingo suffered from something he could arguably recoup from.

"I'm sure the Subway Lines will be all right," the redhead offered in added reassurance to the two of them. Ever hopeful and optimistic. "We didn't have Battle Subway Masters before, and they managed well enough! People were taken where they needed to go. With all your efforts, I know they'll be fine-- more than fine, even! And if there's a hiccup, it'll just be corrected~ It'll work out; it always does," she reminded.

And it was true. For every train that malfunctioned, it was pulled to the yard and repaired. For ever track that came loose, it was spotted early and straightened out. When a whole line was down, another was rerouted to compensate. Yet, every morning of every day- the trains arrived and departed across the stations of Unova. Just as they had before Emmet and Ingo, and they would most likely do so after.

It would be all right. Mistakes and problems are how the world moved and learned.

The redhead was quiet as she watched the twins, smiling as Emmet sat beside his counterpart. She had intended to turn away initially, to offer them a moment of privacy in the small office. Yet, she found she couldn't. Too invested and too intrigued to look away as they hugged. Daedra thought it a wonderful thing to behold.

Emmet and Ingo cared deeply for one another, it had been clear the moment she first met them on their first train ride. They were reserved in a professional way, but the bond they had was unmistakable to anyone who took a moment to see. Daedra couldn't deny to be a bit envious of such a thing. A sibling with you through the entirely of your life's ups and downs from the beginning.

Daedra had no siblings of her own; it was simply one of those harsh 'never's one faced in life. So... it was hard for her to look away from something she'd never known.... never would know in the same manner Emmet and Ingo did.

Daedra atleast commended herself for not outright crying, even if her blue eyes were rather moist looking. (And maaaaybe she snuck a quick rub of her arm across before she spoke.)

"No, no, no," Daedra immediately chimed up, shaking both her hands to dismiss the concern when Ingo spoke up again. "- I'm really glad you two could have that moment! I just feel sorry I probably awkwardly spoiled it," she added with a small chuckle.

At his thanks, Daedra smiled appreciatively and bobbed her head in a nod. "I'm glad I was able to help you two! Truly... Though, I don't think I did anything so out of the ordinary. Any decent hearted person would have done the same! Atleast, I like to think so..."

Daedra's attention shifted to Emmet as he took his turn to speak. Like the younger brother, her cheeks flared up in a pink color to match his at the prospect of friendship. Though, the redhead wasn't nearly as fumbling, in fact, she seemed outright giddy and overjoyed at the prospect.

"Really?! We can be friends, Mr. Emmet?" Her delicate fingers lifted and wove together as she held them before her chest, laughing. "I'd love to be proper friends with you and Mr. Ingo," she declared! "I think we have to at this point!" Another musical little giggle, from her small tease.

Oh, she was so delighted~ What a wonderful thing to have met these two kind, interesting brothers!

Ingo chuckled at how she lit up at him coming around to the idea that rest would be good. Deep down he knew she was right, they both were, it was just hard to let go. It was so hard. When the pair noted the sudden way she seemed to change her mood they were a bit confused. Had they said something wrong? Emmet seemed to catch on faster about why Daedra was suddenly upset and does look rightfully ashamed, or at least his body language did since his expression hadn't changed too much.

It was when she continued to speak that Ingo finally caught on and he too looked down with a sigh. Right. They were... Well they were far too involved with their work. Especially him. After all, here he was with a pretty damned bad head injury because he'd fallen asleep on the train for Arceus' sake! It was all a bit much for him to contemplate while his head literally was cracked with splitting headache.

"... No you're right... The Battle Subway system we created has matured enough that we could step back... We could let other people in as 'back ups' when we need a break," he paused as he sighed and put a hand to his head as if it would stop the headache, "however... We... I guess more so I, have been so stuck on this track of work that I never really realized just how bad it had gotten... I even dragged Emmet down this line with me trying to keep up!"

Emmet finally frowned and moved to sit beside and carefully hug his brother as it seemed Ingo had an epiphany moment given how bad the man was shaking. Sure, all the Depot Agents and their best friend saying they overworked themselves could be overlooked as them caring too much but when someone they barely knew could see it then... Something really was wrong. "Ingo... It's fine... Emmet followed you on this track willingly. However, you know safety is our number one priority and right now we are not following that protocol. Let's both take a break, okay? It's not too late to get back on the right track okay? The Agents can handle the day to day tasks, it'll be alright."

While he was being held Ingo just let himself be comforted while he struggled with this realization, the emotions it caused, and his damned concussion making it all worse. In the back of his mind he knew it was probably awkward for Daedra but he couldn't exactly help that at the moment. After a few minutes he finally felt reasonably stable enough again to look to her apologetically, "I'm sorry... You shouldn't have had to see that... But, I'm glad you said what you did. Please don't feel bad for saying a truth that we needed to hear. I'm truly grateful to have met you and have you here. Thank you."

Emmet nodded in agreement and gave a softer smile, "you're a good friend! Ah, that is... Emmet doesn't mean to assume that since we really only met you recently but you helped us out so much and I just kind of thought..." He pinked a bit in embarrassment as he rambled further on about this. Damn it this is why he didn't have a lot of friends! That and overworking.

[kakusu-shipping]

Hi, I would like to understand why do you ship Mario and Luigi? You don't have to answer if it's not comfortable for you. 🙂

This soooooo immediately reads as a bait question, but I'm trusting you here anon I'm trusting you asked this in genuine good faith which I don't know why you would but if you want to know;

The short answer is Because I Want To and I Like Them. Plain and simple, there doesn't have to be a deeper reason. Sometimes we just ship things because we want to. Understood? Okay cool.

A slightly longer answer would be because they're the kind of Ship Dynamic that brings me the most comfort. I love a ship where they are each other's other half, they understand eachother and support eachother and just get eachother in ways no other person ever could. Loving eachother, being together is all they've ever known, they can't imagine a world where they're not together, side by side.

Platonic or Romantic aside, Mario and Luigi are a perfect pair, that's their entire thing. Mario is Reckless and Headstrong, Luigi is Calculating and Sturdy. Mario charges forward, Luigi holds the line. Mario picks mushrooms out of his spaghetti, and Luigi eats them. They fill in the gaps the other leaves, they compliment and communicate and trust one another undoubtedly.

I love a love like that. Of course it's you. It was always going to be you. It could never be anyone but you. I am not me without you, and you are not you without me. They are eachother's everything

They are a bonded pair, do not separate.

[dee-in-the-box]

having. Thoughts on BS!Dee and how a major theme of her character in the au is that she is Quite Literally living in Jack's shadow after he died, but she doesn't even mind it.

if anything, she's proud that she's become similar to him. even if it's not in the greatest ways. like, imagine that:

you've unconsciously become so similar to a dead man, one who's death effectively knocked over the dominoes of you becoming like this, that when everyone else looks at you, all they can see when they look at you is the spitting image of him staring them in the face.

[hobimo]

this is so nerdcore but if you grew up on a diet of anime there's a certain way conflict is resolved in anime that's so specific that you find yourself searching for it in every other media you ever watch. and then you finally find an anime you really enjoy and you keep watching episodes and its Perfect and reaches your resonant frequency turning your miserable organs inside out and then you can never ever experience it for the first time ever again. also its because of this that its so glaringly obvious when a fic author has never watched an anime ever

[bludbound]

❝ ⸻ I understand you wanting your brother to have some form of redemption . to save him from his own destruction . Even without you there , he would have changed ... Having a child would do that. ❞ After all , she was a mother once . her father snatched her baby away from her arms the moment they were born . She had spent all those months with her child inside of her and she didn't even get to see her once. When he took her hand and uttered those words , made her heart flutter yet sink at the same time . Did she truly have him ? ❝ you never even asked me to come with you ... klaus or not , you didn't even try . I know it doesn't matter to you anymore but , I meant what I said when I told you that I love you . I really want you to know that it isn't a lie . There is no pretending ❞ , katherine said with absolute clarity. Her hand reached up to touch his cheek . She didn't care anymore . ❝ If something happens to me ... you should at least know that . ❞

"You have to understand why i had to follow him," he said, maybe a beg. Maybe just to put it out there. He wasn't sure. It wasn't like it changed anything, right? Unless of course she did stay. But it was a risk. A risk that he didn't not want to risk. He didn't want to risk her, just for him. But he had to stay with Klaus and his future child, to try and help Klaus down the right path. He knew he shouldn't. Too many eyes, but when her words hung in the air. "We're alone and we hate it." He couldn't help, but reach out to her, to take her hand if only for a moment. "You have me as well," he said, knowing he may regret those very words but knowing he meant them. For every breath he took for Niklaus, his heart felt the same love for her. How could he not? "Then why here?" Part of him wanted to hear her say him if only to stop himself for feeling like a fool for falling for her again. "My brother is distracted. You could go anywhere in the world."

[bfpierce]

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