#some of this is based on an older fic i wrote. on his brother

[quartermoonconvergence]

The Moon, Upright. Some Major Keywords Include: Deception, Difficult period, Fear, Hidden things, Insecurity, Mental confusion.

[lqveharrington]

But Daddy I Love Him with older!Eddie Munson🫣🫣

Daddy I Love Him | E.M.

summary: your parents always hated eddie munson, in return causes an argument between you and them.

pairing: older!eddie munson x harrington!reader

includes: mentions of devil worship, bantering, arguments, screaming, bad parents, steve being a good brother, crying, angst, fluff

a/n: i've never wrote a full fic for eddie, so this is a first :) (rules for celebration here!)

Your family — mainly your father — was never fond of Eddie Munson. In fact, they all believed he was the devil's spawn. You tried to reason with them and show how sweet he truly was, but they only brought up the cold hard truth. How he was held back twice, played a Satanic Game with high schoolers, and smoked weed. He was someone they didn't want you hanging around. They wanted you to stay as far away from his as possible.

Unfortunately, it was a little too late to enforce that rule.

You were in your senior year of high school when you began to hang out with Eddie. You didn't hang out with him to smoke or to slack off on your studies. No, you hung out with him because you could truly be yourself around him. You didn't have to be the perfect cheerleader your parents wanted you to be — you could just exist.

Everyday you were able to hang out with him, you became more confident in who you were. You wanted to leave behind the simple girl you were raised to be. You didn't care if Sarah or Hannah labeled you a mess or if your parents grounded you until you left for college, you just wanted to be with the one who truly understood you.

"I'll get it!" You yell from your room and quickly rush down the stairs, finishing the braid you were adorning yourself with.

The fall weather in Hawkins was always the best. It wasn't too cold or too warm, it was perfect. So when Eddie told you he would take you to town today, you were ecstatic.

Just as you made it to the base of the stairs — Mary Janes scuffing the wooden flooring — Steve cut in front of you and yanked the door open, smile falling when he saw who was standing on the front porch. Unlike your parents, Steve was less inclined to scold you for running off with Eddie. He probably scowled at Eddie once and told him to stay away from you, but after your many protests, he left you both alone.

"Munson." Steve gave him a curt nod and stepped away from the door, letting you pass. He was wary of you running off with Eddie, you were his little sister. But you looked so happy being around him.

Shaking his head, Steve grabbed your forearm and lowered his voice, eyes flitting up to Eddie before back down to you. "Be careful."

You roll your eyes and push him away, adjusting the dress you wore. "I'll be fine, Steve. Besides, our parents are supposed to be gone the entire weekend."

Steve huffed and reluctantly let you go, watching you get into the white van and pull away toward god knows where. Steve only hoped you wouldn't burn down the life you worked so hard to get to.

As Eddie hummed to the music playing on the radio, you laced a hand with the one he had resting on your thigh. He glanced at you from the corner of his eye, grinning when you were already staring at him. He was your chaos and your wild joy, but he was all yours and you wouldn't change it for a thing.

"Where are we going today?" You ask softly as he lifted his hand and kissed the back of yours, thumbing the space there.

He continued to kiss the back of your hand as he spoke, "Thought I'd take you downtown. They recently opened a new music shop down there and I heard they have some of your favorite artists."

You raised your brows in surprise and tilt your head, a grin slowly revealing itself to him. "You know me too well." You sigh and squeeze his hand. "Freaks me out just a little."

Eddie chuckled and squeezed your hand back. Of course he knew you well. He had a journal at home that noted all your favorite things. From your favorite flowers to your favorite type of baked good — he had it all written and memorized.

When you got downtown, he bowed and stuck a hand out to help you out of the car. You laughed and gave him a curtsey once he got you down, linking your arms together. On the way over to the store, you passed many people your father knew. Your face twisted in annoyance when a particular woman who used to babysit you and Steve backed away from the both of you and made a cross with her hands.

Eddie tilted his head to you and pressed a kiss to your hair, murmuring quietly. "You okay?"

"Yeah." You tuck a piece of hair behind your ear angrily, glaring at the sidewalk in front of you. "Just annoyed at the people in this town." You kick a pebble and watch it tumble down the road. "All they do is stare and gossip when they see us. It's not like you'll use me for a Satanic sacrifice."

"Who knows? I might just, Harrington." Eddie chided and pursed his lips when you sent him a bored look. He sighed and put his arm around your shoulder. "On another note, you know they're just jealous you're not conforming to the norm." He squeezed your shoulder and flicked your braid over your shoulder. "All your friends aren't really your friends with all the fake smiles they keep throwing you."

"I don't give a damn about them." You rest your head on him and sigh, playing with the buttons adorning his denim vest. You huffed again and rub a hand over your face. "The main issue is telling my parents who I'm really going out with."

Eddie hummed and looked down at you, "When are you telling them?"

You scoff out a short laugh, shaking your head. "If I'm lucky — and Steve doesn't snitch — hopefully not until I'm off to college."

He nodded at you and squeezed your shoulder, leading you toward the music store only a few steps away. "Smart girl."

"Thank you." You grin up at him and kissed his cheek when he opened the door for you.

The second you stepped into the store, you were starstruck. The entire place felt like you stepped onto the set of a music video. There were sections purely for The Smiths and The Cure. There sections for Metallica and Black Sabbath — which Eddie ran straight over to. You shook your head and went to the vinyl and records.

You were so mesmerized by things you'd never seen before in Hawkins that you didn't realize Eddie was by your side, simply admiring you. From the way you kept tucking your hair behind your ear to the way your tongue would just so slightly poke out when you were overlooking the description of the record. His breath was taken away at the sight.

"If I had a camera, I would just snap a picture right here." He spoke all of a sudden, causing you to jerk back in surprise and clutch a hand over your chest. "Absolutely stunning, Harrington."

You shake your head and place the vinyl down, creasing your brows when you met his eyes. "Are you trying to kill me?"

"No." He sent you a cheeky grin and blew a kiss, making you smile. He grabbed the vinyl you were looking at and tucked it underneath his arm, still staring at you. "But you really do look beautiful. Your dress not only compliments your features but your personality."

"How did you ever fail English with all your smooth talk?" You lace your hand with his free hand, slipping one of his many rings on your own.

Eddie opened his mouth before shutting it, shrugging and playing along with you. "Now that is a complete mystery."

"Did you grab everything?" Eddie popped the door open for you again and helped you out, eyeing your side of his van to make sure you had everything you brought with you.

"Yep." You pat his arm and shake the paper bag full of records and small posters. Although he didn't have much, he still proceeded to buy almost everything you wanted despite your many protests. "Thank you for buying them for me... Are you sure Wayne —?"

"What the hell are you doing with him?" Your father burst through you front door, his eyes wide in anger and fists clenched by his sides. Behind him, Steve and your mother followed, the latter shocked at how close you were to the devil's spawn.

"Daddy?" You took a step back and bumped into Eddie, hands shaking from confusion and fear. You directed your eye sight to Steve, who looked troubled. "I thought--"

"Sorry, I tried. I'm so sorry." Steve rubbed his face and winced when he heard his mother's shrill voice from his right.

"You knew?" She grasped Steve's shoulder and looked at him in bewilderment. She looked between you and your brother, both of you recoiling at how badly the both of you messed up today.

It had been a while since the both of you were heavily scolded by your parents, but you knew you wouldn't hear the end of this mess. You frowned when your father pinched the bridge of his nose, muttering words you would be grounded for even thinking about.

"Wha — Uhm..." Steve stuttered and sent you an apologetic look, running his fingers through his hair. "I have to make a call to work."

"Daddy —" You try to speak again only to be interrupted by your father barking orders at you.

"Get inside the house." He pointed toward the door and glared at the boy behind you. When you made no effort to move, he marched up to you and grabbed your forearm, voice strict and unyielding. "Now."

You huffed and pulled your arm away, giving Eddie one last look before entering your own personal hell. You entered the dining room and sat as far away from your parents, crossing your arms and looking down at the wooden table.

"What the hell were you doing out with Eddie Munson? We told you to stay away from him!" Your father slammed his hands down on the table, cause the glass vase full of beautiful flowers to topple over.

You looked up at him in surprise and crease your eyebrows, "Daddy, he's not a bad person —"

"Like to hell he's not! He's a bad influence! You're supposed to be at home and studying for your midterms." He shouted back before sitting down in the chair opposite of you, face red in disappointment. He knew you were dating someone, but he didn't know you were dating a super, super senior.

"Those aren't for another month!" You hold back from shouting all together, quite aware that your temper was about to blow.

"Don't talk back to your father like that." Your mother gave you a pointed look, picking at her perfectly manicured nails. She rubbed her temple and sighed, "We just want to understand why?"

"But you wouldn't care." You huff and lean back into the chair, tears of frustration filling your eyes. While Steve wasn't the perfect son and didn't get accepted into any colleges, he was able to carry good grades and competed in basketball and swim. They wanted you to be even better than him — get accepted into an ivy league and leave behind Hawkins, Indiana. "All you care about is me getting into college and getting filthy rich like you guys."

Your mother shook her head and moved to grab your hand. "That's not a bad thing, sweetheart—"

"You don't listen to what I want to do, mom." You yank your hand away from her touch, eyes practically burning holes into the wall. You felt like you were going to burst into flames if they said anything else degrading toward Eddie. "All you want to talk about with me is proper etiquette and daddy just goes on about how I need to be the best or I'll end up like Eddie."

"It seems like you aren't far from that anyway." Your father muttered and earned another glare from you. He took your mother's hand and squeezed it as he revealed the following information. "Apparently this isn't the first time you've gone out with the Munson boy."

"What?" She whispered and looked at you with wide eyes, biting the her bottom lip in nervousness.

Your father nodded and scowled at you when he found how unphased you were. "She's been going out with him since the end of summer."

"Oh my god." Your mother fell back and held her forehead in a dramatic nature. She fanned herself and shook her head, "You need to stop seeing that boy."

"Wait, what? I haven't done anything bad." You protest and look between the both of them. "My grades are perfect and —"

"Who knows where you'll end up if you keep hanging around with him." He slammed his hands down on the table again, making you flinch. He sighed and pinched the bridge of nose once again. "Why do you even bother spending time with a hopeless —"

That's when you snapped. The chair scrapped against the floor as you rapidly stood, hands placed on the table to balance yourself. Your voice echoed around the room, uncaring if the neighbors could hear the commotion. You needed them to understand you weren't ever going to leave him, no matter what they tried to force upon you.

"Daddy, I love him!" You all but screamed at him, chest heaving from all the emotion you poured out. Their eyes widened at your outburst. That was the first time you ever yelled back. "I love him because he sees me for who I truly am." You shake your head and glare at them, head pounding from how much energy you spent on them. "Something you and mom fail to do to both your children."

You began to walk away from them, your steps never faltering as you ascended the staircase. But before you could take another step up, you father called out to you, making you scoff.

"Where are you going? We're not done with this conversation, young lady." He stood by the bottom of the stairs, face red from fury. Your mother was covering her mouth, still in shock from what you said.

"But I am." Your voice comes out sharper than intended. "I love him and I won't go back on it."

©lqveharrington - all rights reserved. do not copy, translate or share my work on other media platforms

[ch4nb4ng]

Give it to me Straight

Pairing: Minho x afab!reader

Genre: Best friend's forbidden older brother

Word Count: 9.1 k (yeah we got carried away once again)

Warnings: Based off of inspo (here) and (here) that is also literally porn so dont click if u dont want to see you have been warned.

Also contains: smut, worshipping, angst, mentions of alcohol and intoxication, fingering (f receiving), kissing, penetration, lots and lots of praise, semi soft smut

Notes: HEY!! this is a fic i wrote hald of last year and just forgot about it and found and decided to finish it, hope oyu enjoy !!

Summary: You had enough of your best friend brother, Minho, giving you mixed signals as you grew up, but this. This was the night that you were finally going to do something about it

The night was pretty much over, or well, it should have been. But here you were, sitting on the floor of a random person’s apartment, giggling over and over as you looked at the other 8 people also sitting down in a circle next to you. There were your friends, Sana and Hyunjin, and there were the others. Actually, quite frankly, you did not know these people until tonight. There was one person that was there, that you did know, all too well.

Minho, Lee Minho. Friend, foe? You weren’t sure what to call him, but all you knew was that you were grinding on him in the club an hour ago, hands roaming across your body, lips, teeth on your neck. It was fun, one shot after another had your mind racing, thinking about the possibilities of what could happen after you went home, with him. What wasn’t helpful was the guilt that came with such excitement. 

“Fuck okay,” the stranger yelled, clapping his hands before swinging them, taking the empty vodka bottle off the kitchen bench, “let’s play a good ole fashion game of spin the bottle. Who’s in?”

“Me me me!”

The small crowd cheered in unison, but all you could do was stare at him. More guilt, more excitement, more adrenaline. The thought of kissing him did nothing but intensify the want, the need, the desire to. Wanting to hook up with your best friend’s older brother was the worst thing that you could want at this very moment.

The relationship with Minho was always strange and never straightforward. Even from the first time the two of you met. Your best friend of almost 10 years since you had been in elementary school, he was just different towards you. When you were younger, all he did was pick on you. The short scrawny boy, only a couple of years older than you. Would always chase you around the school yard, always until you fell over, or hurt yourself in some kind of way. You hated him, and had no idea why he always picked on you specifically. 

It changed in middle school, however, after puberty, well, more for him. His face changed, grew taller, much more attractive in your 14 year old eyes. You denied it though, remembering how cruel he was to you. Not much changed personality wise, he was still mean. Picking on you, your grades, his sister, her grades. He was ruthless, and it made you hate him even more. Minho’s looks were easy to overlook when everything that came out of his mouth was rubbish.

It wasn’t until he left for college, and came back for summer after finishing his first year, did things change. He had grown even taller, started working out, and had joined his college’s dance team. Holy fuck did things became different. His smile beamed as soon as he walked in and you in his house, sitting at the kitchen bench. 

***

“Y/n?”

You turned around, jaw dropping the moment you laid your eyes on him. He dropped everything, fast walking towards you as he picked you up, spinning you around with a large chuckle erupting from his chest. He put you down, eyes doing a quick check up and down your body before biting down on his bottom lip.

“Minho?”

“Wow, you look, really, really good.”

His stance was close, almost lingering over you, that was, until your best friend walked in, causing him to step away, rubbing the back of his neck as he walked to the fridge so nonchalantly. Your friend gave you a weird look, mouthing a ‘sorry,’ solely for his presence in the room. They never were that close.

“I forgot to tell you that he got back a few days ago and is going to be here for the summer.”

“That’s okay,” you scoffed, overexaggerated manner, “why would you need to tell me that.”

“Because I know how he can be,” she whispered, “rude, mean, very obnoxious and super, super arrogant.” 

The second half of her sentence was louder, looking straight at him to make sure she knew. You just laughed, nervously, unsure how to take in the interaction.

“I need to go to the bathroom,” she sighed, “please don’t bully my only friend while I’m gone.”

The man rolled his eyes, laughing as he took a large gulp from his water bottle. He walked forward, waiting for her to leave before reassessing his position. His hands leaned against the bench, body pushing forward as he leaned towards you, a smirk appearing on his lips as he looked down at you.

“I have to go, meeting a friend at the gym, but it was really, really good to see you. We should hang out sometimes if you’re free, you know, without her?”

“We should?”

“Yes,” he smirked, biting down on his bottom lip, “definitely.”

***

“Okay,” the stranger announced to himself, “I’ll go first.”

The game felt like torture. Simply watching the bottle, casting your eyes on what seemed to be an infinite amount of times, spinning on an axis. It didn’t help you at all. If anything, it intensified how dizzy you truly were feeling. Concentration was getting harder, but you refused. Refused to give up anything. You did not want to prove Minho’s point. That you would always be this little girl that is easy to pick on.

“Oh my god,” Hyunjin nudged you, “Y/n, psst, the bottle is on you.”

His knock cloaked you out of your drunken daze, bringing some sobriety back as he pointed towards the bottle, eyes opening when you saw it land on you. You looked up, seeing the stranger was already there. He was attractive, short black hair, hazel eyes, freckles. He was really cute, and your brain melted the longer he gazed at you.

“Hey.”

“Hi,” you whispered, hand in front of your mouth as you giggled at his proximity. You didn’t have to look. The feeling of a pair of eyes burning into the side of your head was more than enough to know who had their eyes on you, and who didn’t. Chan did not, already ditching the game and sloppily making out with the person next to him. Hyunjin followed in pursuit, and Jisung and Sana, well, that was another story, a long time coming. The glance was brief, not long enough to focus on anybody, but well enough to know your surroundings. Enough to see the girl, who looked very familiar, but not enough to be identified by name, whisk her fingers across his inner thigh. He stayed still, not paying any mind to her as he fixated on you. The man joined in the staring contest, noticing Minho’s obviously unimpressed glare. 

He swung his head back in your direction, pushing his body weight on you in the slightest. You followed, back now adjacent to the floor as he leaned over, lips hovering over your own. You brought your index finger to his lips, curious to know more about the man before he kissed you.

“Wait.”

“Is something wrong?” His facial expression changed, unsure as to why or what made you hesitate.

“Oh, no,” you giggled, full of giddyness and intoxication, “your name. I just wanted to know your name before we, well, you know.”

The man smirked, cupping your face in adoration as he leaned closer, lips wisping across your ear as he spoke.

“Well aren’t you just the cutest?”

He pulled away, eyes back in level with your own as he spoke once more, “Felix. I’m Felix.”

That was all you needed, wrapping your arms around Felix’s neck as you pulled him in, eyes closing and mouth opening and lips attacking yours. The kiss in reality, from an outside perspective, would have looked very messy. Very sloppy as lips missed each other, teeth crashed together, and also the fact that you could feel Felix’s hips moving against your own in the slightest, already half hard member grinding against your thigh. It did feel good, you couldn’t fib to yourself. The gentle friction was delicious. It was enough to make you moan discreetly, the sound lost in Felix’s mouth as the two of you continued. 

You were enjoying yourself, but you also remembered not to lose yourself in the moment. Felix was fun, but he was just part of the plan. A simple pawn in a game of chess, of course being the queen and Minho the king. Sometimes you have to make some unnecessary moves to win in the long term. Even with your eyes closed, you could still feel his own burning into the back of your head. If sober, you most likely would have been feeling some kind of guilt. It wasn’t like you to rub things in other people’s faces. But you felt like it was only fitting. Yes, you wanted Minho, but after everything, your timeline with him, having a crush on him for the longest time regardless that he made your life hard, it only felt right to drag this out as much as possible. 

Your eyes fluttered open, empty lidded shooting daggers at him. Appraisal came to your mind when his daggers were returned, gaze still very much fixated on you, with Felix, making out with another man right in front of him. His blood was searing, reaching boiling point at a very rapid rate. He knew you were a lot of things. Sarcastic, blunt, ‘indifferent’ towards him as you got older, or so he thought. But he didn’t take you to be a tease. He was reaching the point of no return, and if you didn’t stop this act, this play scene just for him, he was going to do something he regretted.

“Hmm fuck,” Felix grumbled, pulling away from you, “has anyone ever told you that you’re a really good kisser?”

Your eyes flickered back to the man on top of you, quickly averting your gaze to avoid any deflections from Minho, Chan, or any of the others there that you knew.

“Hey man, what are you doing?”

You sat up immediately, looking up to see Minho’s friend, Jisung, standing over you. His tone was playful, but the adrenaline was kicking in. The several times you met Minho’s friends, they were decent enough to be nice to your face. Anytime you went over, you could hear them. Talking about how you look, always asking Minho about you. Just them teasing him about you. Maybe it was the reason as to why he had so much disdain for you. They were also protective, very protective of him, and probably the reason why they were standing over you right now.

“Oh hey man, you’re not her boyfriend are you?”

“Who, me?” Jisung laughed, hard, almost hysterically, bringing a hand to his chest to calm himself down, “no no, not me, but the guy over there might be a little mad that you’re making out with his girl.”

You rolled your eyes, grabbing onto Felix’s arm, other hand tucking under his chin as you pressed another haste kiss to his lips. You gave Minho one more look, noticing his fists turned inwards, hard shaped as he watched your interactions with the new guy accelerating.

“Good,” He smirked, standing up, and reaching a hand out to you as an invitation, “Did you want to hang out in my room? It’s just down the hall.”

“Sure,” you replied bluntly as you took his invitation. You allowed Felix to guide you, taking one last look at Jisung. Before making your way, you were interrupted one more time. It made you scoff when Minho grabbed your wrist, finally able to do something himself, not his friends doing it for him.

“Y/n?”

“What do you want?”

“Where are you going?”

“What do you think?”

With a heavy grip, attempting to shake yourself out of his grip. There was no way you were giving up on this act yet.

“You just met the guy tonight?”

“Okay and? It’s not like that ever stopped you before. At least I’m not at home, forcing everyone else to hear you late at night.”

He looked down, knowing he had been beaten to the punch. You resisted once more, able to come out of his grip as you looked up and down at him once more, “Stop acting like you give a shit what I do.”

You watched him open his mouth, but missed out on whatever he was going to say. You laughed to yourself, the swift motion of the man from the other side, Felix, the one who was giving you the attention you needed right now. Without a word, he closed the door behind you, spare hand placed on your lower back as he lead you to what seemed to be his bed.You sat down first, Felix making quick work as he stood over you once more, index finger stuck on your shoulder as he effortlessly as he ‘pushed’ you over, torso hovering on top of yours, just like he did previously. You had to give it to him. This Felix guy was smooth. The way he looked down at you, raking your body with every single eye nerve, the gentle twitch when he noticed extra skin showing on your body for a slight moment. He definitely was contributing to your uprising arousal, but the thing that really turned you on was the mere possibility of Minho hearing this. Having his ear up to the door, curious to see what you would really do.

“Hey,” Felix whispered, pressing a chaste kiss to your lips, taking you out of your thoughts completely, “everything okay?”

“What? Oh, yeah, where were we?”

You brought a hand to his arm, rubbing up and down in a soothing motion as his own came back to your chin, pinching it forward, lips doting to reconnect with his. His lips were smooth, not a crack or dry spot in sight or in feeling. The kiss was a lot more connected, a lot more teamwork and passion. His tongue lazily slipped inside of your mouth, picking up with much brute and force as his hips charged, recreating the prior friction against your core. Felix had one hand on the side of your jaw, the one on your chin snaking around and cascading down, in between your cleavage, past your navel, brimming on the edge of your undergarment line. You gasped, immediately, not expecting things to move so quickly. A stifled whimper escaped your lips, enjoying the friction his fingers created around the sensitive bundle of nerves.

“Oh,” you groaned, slightly high pitched and confused at first, but once his fingers dived past your dress, underneath your core, right in the center of your sweet spot, you groaned again, a deeper, more gratifying noise bellowing in response.

“Does that feel good?”

“Mhm,” you whispered, looking up at him, “feels so good already.”

Your hand felt dizzy again, a lightheaded texture adding. You weren’t sure if it was his fingers or the alcohol speaking, but it most likely was the loud bang that came from the east part of the room. You jumped immediately, bumping heads with Felix as you quickly covered yourself, given no time to fix your hair as you were being dragged out, Minho’s jaw clenched as he walked you out.

“Sorry, uh Felix, it was nice to meet you,” you yelled down the hallway, pushed all the way to the front door.

“Minho what the fuck?”

“Shut up and get in the car,” he growled, not putting up with any nonsense that you were about to spew at him, “Jisung’s taking us all home, your friends included.”

“Ugh, whatever,” you scoffed, the digging of his fingers becoming slightly painful. You opened the door, seeing Hyunjin’s smirk as soon as he saw you, hand in hand with Minho. He never had to say anything, he always knew how you felt about him, even when it wasn’t clear to you. 

The midnight breeze was very apparent, hitting you like a truck. The goosebumps on your skin raised in an instant, shiver running down your spine as you walked. Minho let go of your wrist, removing his jump over his head, and plopping it on top of yours. You wanted to turn, scream at him for ruining your hair, not even thinking about your makeup. But honestly, you were just tired. It was late. 

***

You pushed the button down in the backseat, letting the cool breeze smack you across the face as Jisung drove down the highway. It felt nice, distracting you from the imminent pressing of your best friend’s brother inconveniently pressing up against you, too big for the middle seat. Of course he had to sit next to you. Invade your personal space, your privacy. He was still overprotective of you, even when you were by yourselves. It was annoying, and you really didn’t know why he was always like this with you after the needless torture that was gorwing up with him around. 

You decided to put the window up, a sudden drowsiness coming over you as you leaned your head against the window. Your eyes were fluttering, half lidded when you felt someone whispering, right up to your ear. His lips were cold, roughly but incidentally lingering on your lobe.

“Y/n,” Minho hushed, patting your arm lightly, “y/n, baby.”

“Mhm,” you mumbled, furrowing your eyebrows, “what is it?”

“We’re here, wake up.”

“Oh,” you sighed, releasing your weight on the window. Your eyes opened, turning from the window, which was a big mistake. You caught yourself, inches away from your face. Apart from the club, it was the closest you had been ever to him. You saw him, looking down at your lips, causing you to gulp loudly. You wanted to lean in, push away all the doubt you had in your mind, and follow your heart. To have him on your lips, around your body, caressing every crevice, every curve. It was something you had fantasized about in your head several times, whether you wanted to or not. Your hand flew to his chest, truly speechless and unsure what to say.

“Minho. I-”

He licked his lips, fingers latching onto your jaw, thumb against the subtlety of your lips. He flipped, lip bouncing back as he leaned even closer. His breath had never felt so imminent, not even the first time the two of you had shared a kiss.

***

“Did you need help?”

Your heart almost jumped out of your chest, about to lose balance on the stool. The tea bags were high in the cupboard, and you weren’t the tallest person going around. Minho put his arms out, helping you adjust yourself before stepping down and back onto the ground.

“Yeah,” you chuckled, “you know me, never able to reach anything.”

“It’s okay, they’re stored pretty high up.”

Without giving you time to move, he reached over, torso pressed against your chest, half of his body weight leaning on you as he reached up to grab one for you. Your face rose in heat as he placed it on the bench behind you, keeping firm in his position.

“Sorry,” he mumbled, still not moving, “I probably shouldn’t have done that.”

“Oh, uhm no, it’s okay” you mumbled back, pushing the hair behind your ear. He beat you to the other side, lifting his fingers, watching how delicately the fibers of your hair curved along your ear lobe. 

Faces inching closer, it felt like do or die, but you would rather get hit by a truck than make the first move. Minho was the type to flirt, hard. He knew he could get anyone he wanted. College really changed him. For the better though, even if it meant he became a mass fuckboy.

“You have a really, uhm, beautiful face.”

He had become nervous all of a sudden, and you couldn’t help but smile. Smile at both his nerves and slight awkwardness, as well as his proximity. 

“Uhm thanks,” you mumbled again, scared that if you attempted to speak at a normal volume, it would squeak, “you have a nice face as well.”

“Shut up,” he mumbled, piercing eyes boring into yours.

“Make me.”

He hesitated for a brief moment, before bringing both hands to your face, pressing his lips to yours. It was soft at first, a series of gentle pecks you wrapped your hand palms around his neck, keeping him close. His body felt good, right when close to you.

It didn’t take long for things to heat up however, Minho’s tongue begging for access as you gave it to him willfully, a gentle hum as he simultaneously rolled his hips into yours once. A soft groan escaped your lips, causing him to pull away. The smirk on his face was priceless; you knew he was satisfied with himself. His hands snaked down to your waist, lifting you up and placing you on the kitchen bench. Minho nudged your leg with his left knee, spreading them wide, allowing himself to fit into the curve. He kept his digits across your fingertips, gently tapping as he leaned back in, skipping the innocent kisses and heading straight to a heavy, heavy makeout. The noises erupting were increasing in quantity, and it wasn’t until you heard footsteps running down the steps were you snapped back into reality. Hands on his chest, you pushed him off quickly, pushing your hair back in front of your face.

“Y/n what’s taking you so long?”

“Oh uhm, I was just trying to reach the teabags.”

“Yeah,” Minho joined in, helping you cover your ass, “I just grabbed it for her, seeing as she was already in my way to get to the glasses, annoying ass.”

“Okay whatever weirdo,” she replied to him, “stop annoying Y/n.”

***

The memory of the flashback playing in spurts, ones that your intoxicated mind was probably failing to accurately recall the event. It was, however, enough for you to pull away. Saying nothing, you turned away, opening the car door, semi-stumbling onto the ground as you jumped out the car, heading towards his front door. Luckily your best friend was out of town, away on a camping weekend with her boyfriend and her parents, because if she heard you walking in with Minho, it was game over.

“Y/n,” he whispered, tone harsh like he wanted to yell, “y/n.”

It was nothing but a faint noise in the distance. You stood there, in front of the door, impatiently waiting for it to be unlocked. It wasn’t until you could feel him. He grabbed your wrist, almost having to yank you back to stop you.

“What,” you whispered back, similar in tone, “what do you want?”

He waited. It looked like he was trying to put a thought together, knowing that he needed to say something very important. It could make or break: everything. He took a step closer, that familiar feeling of adrenaline, no, some other feeling that you couldn’t describe. Made your heart race, body sweat. You couldn’t put your finger on what it was. All you knew was that it only happened when he was around you.

“I’m, I’m sorry.”

You looked up at him, adoration at how gentle his skin glowed in the moonlight. Fuck, this was annoying. Why did he have to be so hot? It would have been the easy way out to forgive him and let him do what you craved, yearned for. But it was simply too much to do so. This man had been toying with your heart for a long time. Whether he had a crush on you for the lingering amount of time that you had, you deserved better than someone who played with you for their own amusement.

“What are you sorry for?”

Your tone was calm, yet still firmly questioning him. It was easier to just deny the night events than argue about it.

***

The music was loud, deafening as Minho, dragging you by the delicacy of your poor wrist, locked in a spot right next to the speaker right beside the DJ of the club, aka pole position. At first the dancing was innocent, a bright smile of pure joy (and intoxication) plastered across your face, holding each other’s hands as you pushed and pulled them back and forth. It wasn’t until the motions of arms were not moving in the opposite directions, somehow were both pulling in his direction, right up against his waist. The music was much too loud to allow your rational cognitions to process the sequence of events. Facing him, not facing him. Appropriate distance, very much appreciate distance. It was hard to explain how you ended up with your back pressed against Minho’s chest, somehow in the monstrosity of alcoholic beverages and shots actually moving your hips in a synchronized way with his. Maybe it was the firm grip, thumb digging into the soft flesh that was hardly hidden under that dress, making sure that this was the only place you needed to be, that he wanted you to be. 

Your hands easily followed too, palms on top of this tendon illuminating the side of his hands as his lips rested on the outside of the cartilage that made up your ear. The second time you could feel the magic that was his lips. The crowd that was Minho’s friends and the new, yet very much fun strangers that would end up making the later house party were long gone at this very moment. The only thing you could remember was coming with Minho, and the last thing you wanted to do was leave with him.

“Mmmm,” was all that could be heard, well no, felt from the man behind you. The vibrations of his lips were the only indicator that he was trying to say something. His teeth soon followed. Gentle, almost kitten-like nibbles nipped at the heated flesh of the neck and shoulder, head falling limp against his own shoulder as he continued to chuckle inbetween. There seemed to be an innocence to his antics, almost like he didn’t want to hurt you. Yet knowing the downright filthy desires, things he wanted to do, for a numerous amount of time was very much ironic.

Turning around, you pulled away, eyes boring into yours and his face came closer and closer. Eyes fluttering shut like a butterfly's wings for a brief moment, desire had never been stronger.

“There he is, Jisung!”

And just like that, it was over. Reality came back and your Minho clouded fog dissipated in a matter of moments, and it must have for him. You had never seen someone take their hands of someone with such speed. The timely reaction of Minho brought you back to a realistic part of your life. The one where this was nothing but a dream, and Minho was once again out of reach, and the many barriers that were his friends, your friend being in the way, made you nothing but a pawn in his chess game.

***

You stood there in silence, the only sound that could be heard was the ringing in your ears from the loud music prior. The want for him to explain himself was one of such desperation. A sign, anything at this point. Yes, you were very much exhausted from the games but if it was all worth it for him to finally do something about it in the end, the fatigue would be easily wiped away.

“I don’t mean to be this way. So, uhm, aggressive? Or the opposite, I don’t know I-”

“Minho in the nicest way possible, I’m tired and we’ve both had a big night. We can talk about it in the morning.”

Using the spare key that your friend had so graciously given you as a symbol of how much time you truly spent at her house, his house, over the years, the door was unlocked, you ripping your shoes off and letting them laz sprawl against the living room carpet as your body heavily dragged up the stairs. Your feet automatically knew the way to her room, 4 paces straight and two to the left. To get to his it was 7 paces straight 2 to the right. The 4th step on the second floor felt unnatural at this moment, body wanting nothing more than to be pressed up against him in a deep slumber, you craved it; but you knew better at the same time.

“Y/n.”

Silence. You could feel him coming closer, but it’s honestly just too painful at this point to even wait for anything more.

“Y/n.”

Silence, again. It wasn’t until you could feel the unintentionally harsh pull at your wrist, once again pulling back and up against him.

“Y/n wait.”

“For fucks sake Minho,” you huffed, yanking your arm away from his grip, “leave me alone.”

“No, I want to talk about it now.”

Nothing but an eye roll followed, ignoring him and storming into her room. He followed in pursuit, the first time any kind of behavior like this from Minho had happened before. Sitting on the edge of the side of her bed, you turned away as you took off your jewelry, precious earring and delicate chain necklace lying on this decorative plate placed on the bedside table.

“There’s nothing to talk about.”

“Can we please stop pretending like there isn’t something going on between us?”

He was not serious. His bold statement made you stop, turn around and face him.

“You have to be joking right now.”

“Why would I be joking?”

“Minho” you yelled, standing back up and right in front of him, “this is nothing but a fucking game to you! We don't have a problem, YOU do.”

“I don’t play games with you,” Minho scoffed, eyes wide in his own disbelief, “you play games with me.” His voice was also beginning to rise in volume.

“That’s such a fucking lie! You’ve been playing games with me for years. Three quarters of my life! I know that you hated me or couldn’t stand me for most of that but then all of a sudden you come back from college and you want to be around me and all over me?”

“That’s not true-”

“Yes it is! You couldn’t stand me!! Then the kiss in the kitchen? Tonight, you were all over me and I could tell, drunk or sober, that you were enjoying yourself. Until your friends come along and I’m nothing but a secret little game-”

“No Y/n, shut up, that's not true!”

“Explain yourself then!” 

Both of your chests were heaving simultaneously, the heated exchange taking the breath out of the two of you. There was no part of you that was wrong, and you knew better than to lack confidence, especially to someone who has kicked you around for what felt like your whole life.

“I never hated you,” he whispered, once again shifting the tense atmosphere in the room. He took a step closer, that goddamn palm resting on your cheek, fingertips pushing the baby hairs sticking to your forehead as you took him in, listening deeply to his words, “I could never hate somebody like you, Y/n.”

His tonality had become the softest you had ever heard someone speak. It was empowering to keep him on his toes, gaze fixated on him, but lips refusing to move. You could see it. The dip in his own gaze below your eye line, past the tip of your nose, and right to where you wanted his lips to be: your lips. The right thing, like your previous thoughts, was to pull away, save yourself the heartbreak.

“Let me take the time to show you how false that statement really is.” 

But god, was it it easier to just give him. His approach was gentle, but the texture of his lips felt like the key to everything. The light weight of his lips were equivalent to a tuft of feathers falling from a clear sky. Your lips tussled in return, wanting to kiss the man you were in love with so much passion, yet so much reservation. His lips, unlike the first time, had so much admiration for you, somehow the feeling was communicated in the way his lips touched yours, the way his tongue slipped into your mouth, colliding with your own. The world stopped spinning, and the only thing that mattered was Minho’s lingering touch.

His hands scrambled to find an appropriate spot. His palms spread across your waist, the pressure of his weight pushing you to the edge of the bed, a small shriek escaping your lips as the sudden knock of balance leaves you lying against the material of the bed. His hands left your sides, one coming to your face as he broke away, taking a moment to admire you underneath him in all your beauty. He lifted his fingers to your forehead, brushing the baby hairs on your skin before smiling and leaning back in for another kiss. Hands around his neck, you brought him closer, gasping into his mouth when you felt the roughness of his knee conveniently sitting between your inner thigh, spreading to make room for his own. 

You decided to take the liberty of breaking the kiss back this time, Minho rising on his own as he pulled his shirt off in one swift motion. Even the way he moved his limbs was majestic. Eyes widening for a brief moment as the shock of Minho’s body that you had seen many times, especially post-college transformation, it still amazed you how attractive this man was. The proximity all these years amounting to this moment. All the teasing, ignoring, negative behavior came as the collateral of coming to this moment; and you would tolerate all of it again if this what it would lead to. Which is why you refused to rush things, savor the moment as much as you could.

“Minho, wait.”

“Yes?”

“Can we just,” you were hesitant to ask for what felt like a silly request, “I don’t want to rush anything. Can we just make out a little longer?”

His chuckle was one of the most adored. He nodded as he got up from the bed, sitting back down at the edge of the right side. As he turned to put his leg atop of the bed, he leant on his left elbow, patting the empty spot next to him, a very adorable invitation that you simply could not resist. You shooed over, facing Minho as he pinched your chin, bringing your lips to his again. The kisses, for the moment, stayed soft, sweet. He was allowing you to take your time because he was ready. Minho wanted you so bad, but he knew better than to rush. If anything, the anticipation made him fall for you more.

However, the heat was unconsciously beginning to turn up once bodies became involved. The subtle grind of his hips against yours was sending you into a frenzy, and the friction was something you needed to chase. At first you were holding back, only wanting the generosity of his tongue and lips, but now the selfish part of you was taking over, and there was nothing more that you wanted than to have sweet passionate sex with the man in front of you. Gently pushing his chest away, he looked up, confused as you turned away from him, standing up and undoing the zip on the back of your dress.

“Oh,” was all he could say, a smirk plastered on his face as he dragged your body back toward him, now covered in undergarments, back to the bed. His hands became a lot more adventurous, taking the signal of you undressing yourself as an acceleration of what you wanted. Still facing each other, Minho placed a gentle peck to your lips as his arms wrapped around your waist, bringing you much closer to him, and exactly where you wanted to be. 

Once the lack of space was established, Minho brought the tip of his digits just above your panty line. A small gasp elicited from your lips once his fingers dipped down to your clothing covering your core. Just above the center of the folds. Minho’s lips quiver at your body relaxing underneath his touch. The more vulnerable you became, the more in love he fell with you. Each second. Your eyes fluttering almost shut, hips gently bucking underneath the pressure of his fingers had his mind screaming with adoration. His gaze was making you shy, causing you to bury your head in his naked chest. You giggled with innocence at how good his fingers felt. The other times you reminisced, romanticized what this would be like was tenfold of what you actually expected. 

“You’re so beautiful” he whispered, a soft kiss to the tip of your forehead. Your head came out of his chest, a somewhat fucked out expression already coatign your face as his fingers traveled back to the top of your panties, fingers grasping the hem before asking, “Can I take this off?”

You nodded, this time without hesitance as you turned to your front, assisting Minho in letting the thin fabric subtracted from your body. Your bra soon followed, leaving you completely exposed. Minho still had his pants on which you felt to be a little unfair, but the tent that was beginning to form in his pants was a reason enough for him to keep them on longer. 

Turning back to your side, you reached him in another sensual kiss, bodies now as close as they had even been. Minho’s fingers had much more to travel, left palm already reaching for a gentle squeeze of your best breast. His touch was noticeable enough to break away, a small groan at the digits brushing your nipple. Another chuckle escaped his lips as he watched your nipples get harder under his touch.

“Wow,” Minho gasped, gently pinching the soft flesh his eyes couldn’t help but be glued to, “you look amazing.”

“Do I?”

“More than I could have ever  imagined.”

Your silence made him giggle, fingers snaking back down to where the two of you wanted them to be. It was almost embarrassing how easily his index and middle finger slipped between your folds, already coated in your arousal as his digits swirled around your pussy hole. It was evident that he wanted his fingers coated, so when he brought them up to his lips, tongue evidently out as he licked them clean, then slid them back down to your waist once more, spreading your folds apart and pushing on your clit like a button. Your hands grabbed onto his shoulders for support, the sudden amount of sensation in comparison to before sending you into a frenzy. Your jaw had already become slick, the gentle whines and moans spilling out sound after sound. 

“Fuck,” He cursed under his breath, lips right in front of your tits, teeth grazing over the geneoristy of the skin, “you have the features of an angel.”

His shower of compliments caused a louder moan to slip from your lips. It really wasn’t something that you expected. The fantasy you had of Minho being a rough, man handling lover contrasted to the man that presented in front of you right now. But it was much better than anything you ever thought he was to be.

His fingers moved in delicate circular motions, Minho himself groaning at how pretty you looked under his fingers. He kept his curiosity peaked, fingers traveling back down to your hole before plunging them inside, tips instantly curling to bring his lips right up against his own.

“Minho oh my god,” you gasped, short breaths hinting at a rapid pace from your throat as he started to move them back and forth, “your fingers are so good.”

“Your welcome,” he smiled, wrapping his free arm around your chest to adjust for the way your torso squirmed against him. Your own hands soothing his arm that did all the work as he picked up his pace, a slight bump forming into your pussy. Minho’s pace became quickly unforgiven, a spill of curse words that made you feel extremely dirty coming from your mouth. The irony of feeling dirty from cussing and not from the two fingers being shoved into your whole was comedic. 

“Lift it,” Minho grunted, attempting to fix his position so he could get a better angle to finger you from, “lift your leg and put it on my hip.”

You did as he said, a gut wrenching moan that was bubbling in your throat bursting at the seams as your maneuver allowed his finger to enter deeper, stronger, harder. The combination of skin slapping and wetness could be heard by anyone in the house if there was anyone in there, the noise echoing the room as you watch his eyebrows furrow, bitten bottom lip in concentration. All this time, Minho wanted nothing more than to see you be happy, make you feel good. It was in half disbelief that he was present in this moment that he had dreamed of several times. And his perception of you, with his fingers inside of you, moaning his name over and over exceeded expectations to say the least. The temperature that began to rise on your cheeks was spreading to your limbs, muscles slowly coiling as the pleasure continued to build at your core. Minho’s jaw clenched, increasing his effort and strength in, with much effort, fucking you with his fingers. His pace became even quicker, desperate and motivated to make you shake under his fingers.

“Minho please,” you cried, suffocating his lips with yours to muffle the continuous noise that baffled the room, “so good.”

Your sentences, if you could even call them that, were not coherent in the slightest. Yet it did not matter. All Minho could focus on was how beautiful you looked with your lips pouted, the gentle teeth marks under your bottom lip from biting down on your precious skin too hard. The condensation beginning to cover the skin of your forehead as your eyebrows scrunched together, your facial expression could have been interpreted as anger. However, Minho failed to see it that way. He saw you as nothing but an angelic woman that he had the gratitude of being allowed to share a moment of vulnerability with. There was no judgment in his eyes as he felt your tight pussy clench around his knuckles, knowing how close to what you were, and what he wanted to achieve for your sake.

“It’s okay baby,” he whispered, wiping the moisture glistening on the nose, half of your face shimmering in the moonlight as he withdrew his fingers, rubbing the sensual juices all over your swollen clit as your legs began to shake in response to the overwhelming stimulation you were experiencing.

“Can you feel it?”

“Mhhm,” you whined, suppressing your lips together as you focused on him, analyzing to him the intricate details of your body. His lips moved with vigor, leaving a string of semi wet kisses along your shoulder, kissing every little skin contusion, beauty mark, scab, wrinkle, dimple. You name it, Minho was eager to use his lips to analyze you, analyze the way your skin felt against him. The idea increased your arousal to a level you thought would not be possible.

“I’m gonna cum Minho I-”

“It’s okay baby,” Minho hushed you, wanting to relive any pressures or expectations you may think you need to fulfill “even the way you speak such vulgar things is angelic to me.”

“I’m cumming,” was all you could cry out. You know that once this was over, you would be appreciative of how gentle and warm his presence was to you during this unguarded moment, but right now all you could focus on was the tight coil in the pit of your stomach that would give out at any second. Like your foreshadowed, your body was coming undone under him, Minho unable to give up the succulent ability that was your pussy as he reinserted his two fingers back into your hole, thumb almost ghosting over your clit in an attempt to not overwhelm your body in sensation.

Minho thought you couldn’t get any more fascinating. Even the way you orgasmed was angelic. Legs spread wide open as you let him have his way. The trust you developed in him in this intricate moment was such an attraction but mainly an appreciation. He knew that he had not been the most trustworthy person to you. His mixed signals and just overall treatment of you was simply a mind of confusion.

On the contrary, every negative moment that you shared with him melted away. The part of him having his fingers inside of you, bringing you to climax was not what you were focused on. You were focused on the attention. Solely the attention, his words held so much more weight than his actions to you in this moment, and all he did was mumble sweet nothings, adoring every single part of you that you wanted Minho to love.

“Fuck baby,” Minho groaned, finally withdrawing his fingers entirely from your core as he palmed his own arousal. But he merely wasted any time on that as he stood up and discarded his pants in an instant. A half lidded gasp came from your throat as you watched his length spring free from the suffocation of his previous undergarments. Minho laid back on the bed, back against the bed as you extended a hand in which you willingly took, enjoying the sudden rapture that Minho had tangled the two of you in. His fingertips came to your face once more, brushing those delicate strands away as he took his precious time. Willingly ignoring the fact that your very slicked up pussy was creating friction against his tip, he was more focused on your face. The crinkles underneath your eyes that came up when you smiled. The way your lips turned upwards in the slightest. The longer he looked up at you, on his lips, body pressed up against his, the more he fell in love. Both of your hands now came to his face. It felt like hours upon hours that the two of you had been looking at each other. Calmness fell over the room as you leant down to kiss him again. The taste of him was simply nor enough. You needed him. On you, next to you; it did not matter. His presence was something that you truly craved. Sexually, platonically, romantically, it did not matter. Any closeness with Minho was more than adequate. Deciding to lift your hips slightly, your hands followed, gripping him as you slowly slid onto him, a deep groan leaving his lips, a soft moan leaving yours as he stretched you out. Before you could even initiate any moment, Minho grabbed your arm lifting your palm to his face as he sent kisses up your arm, almost as if he was in complete disbelief of what was happening in this moment.

“I just want to worship you my god,” he whispered, making you giggle in the slightest.

His lips traveled just under your shoulder, arms wrapping around his torso to bring you into another embrace. It was that his strength was brute enough to lift you up, and put your back down. Hisbody almost moved with vigor, wanting to make sure the experience was an equal one. A sharp whine came from you as he established a gentle pace, your whole body being used in an attempt to pleasure the both of you. Someone may have seen this as selfish, Minho controlling the pace, but really, he just couldn’t get enough of how much he wanted you. The amount of times he had thought about this moment over the years almost derailed him. But nothing could be more perfect than the moment right now. 

Your arms were wrapped around his neck, then on his chest, across his face, you were too stimulated to be organized with your hand placements. It’s just what he did to you. Minho could tell that you were unsure, so instead he just put his head in your chest, almost wanting you to wrap your fingers though the bse of his scalp, the gentle texture of your fingers against his scalp could have honestly made his toes curl. Just like you, Minho craved your touch in any way shape or form, so the combined combainton of your closeness, tussling digits, and tight pussy was sending him into a headspin.

“Minho,” you hesitated, unsure, if he could hear you in the muffle of your chest, “Minho.”

You were desperate for him to hear you, yanking on his locks to pull him away from the darkness and back into your gaze. His eyes were glazed over for a moment, an innocent peaking on them as he looked up at you with intent.

“Yes my princess, my Y/n?”

“Yours?”

The skin slapping, volume of each time your ass landed on his hips was increasing, but no matter the crescendo, it was never loud enough to get in the way of the intimate looks the two of you had a silent agreement to fixate on.

“Mine,” he moaned, hands snaking back down to your hips, breaking this distance and once again guiding the speed of how fast he filled you up, “all mine.”

“You’re so gorgeous,” you mumbled, barely able to talk at this point, “I want you so bad you have no idea.”

“You have me,” he almost chanted, “you have me. I have you. Always.”

Your head rolled back, the intimacy of his words, rather than his cock, bringing you closer to the brink of pleasure. The attractiveness of finally putting his walls down, striking his fear of vulnerability was unmatchable. Even if things didn’t work out with Minho in the future, you knew that deep down, no one else could ever make you feel this way. Minho was a witch, and the spell he was casting on you was something that would be everlasting.

“I love you,” you cried, throwing your head back in somewhat embarrassment, “I love you Minho.”

“I love you too baby fuck,” he grunted, increasing the strength in which he filled your pussy. He couldn’t handle this anymore. Flipping you over, his body hovered, cock pressing your back into the mattress. On his knees, Minho trusted deeper and deeper, your eyes almost cloudy from how good he truly felt inside of you. Another sensuous kiss ensured, the combination of his deep moans and your vibrating whines slipped into each other 's, easily one of the most intimate things that could ever be done. 

“Mhhm,: You whined, breaking away and placing a hand on his face, “I fucking love you.”

“I fucking love you, my Y/n.”

“Oh god,” you breathe heavily, free hand gripping on his shoulder, “I love when you call me that?”

“What? My Y/n?”

“Yes,” you hissed, piercing into his eyes, this time with vigor, “it makes me yearn for you.”

“You have me baby,” he smirked, eyebrows soon furrowing as he realized his hips were getting sloppy in motion, “I’m all yours.”

You could not stop kissing him. He was just too hard to resist. His words, actions, everything, you were so in love that your chest began to hurt. That pit was developing again, and all he had to do was say the words and you were there. Minho took your hand away from his face, pinning them on either side of you as he slid his fingers in between, allowing your hand to intertwine with yours. The affection was the icing on your cake, because as you felt the swirls of his finger prints trickle onto your palm, your hips were spasming.

“Minho I’m-”

“I know baby, it’s okay, he cooed, “I can feel your pussy clenching hard.”

A little giggle escaped your lips as your body raked itself of an orgasm. Back arching, the loudest noise you could have possibly made erupted from your mouth, the unintentionally new angle allowing Minho to plunge even deeper, keeping it slow as he allowed you to come down from the high. He pulled out right after, pumping himself a few times before finishing just above your core. He fell to your side, immediately lifting your body, wanting to feel that constant warmth as he placed your head against his chest, arms wrapped around your back as he kissed the mount of hair in front of his face. His heartbeat was warm, fast, but stil, a sense of comfort felt over your body as you listened to the organ pump in his chest. The moment was silent, yet comfortable, the both of you simultaneously soaking in that delicacy of affection that you both oh so craved, longed for.

Even after all of that, you still had the energy to do so. Minho read your mind, giving you a quick peck before quickly pacing out of the room. The ache in your heart had already reappeared at his absence. The craving would never stop. Luckily he was quick, grabbing a paper towel, cleaning you up, running back to the bin, the running back and jumping onto the bed, your body flying in the air as he caught you, snuggling up to your side with his head pressed into your chest. Your hand came to his hair, letting those fingertips frolic across his scalp. A silence fell over the room as the two of you simultaneously stared at the ceiling, the dim shine of the moonlight shining through the window, lingering across Minho’s side profile.

“I was being serious, you know.”

“About what?”

“Hating you.”

Minho turned onto his chest, wanting to make sure that you were staring at him when he said this.

“I could never hate you Y/N, my Y/N.”

He crawled up to your side, tall enough to press one more kiss, lips lingering across yours as your eyes fluttered shut from his touch. Lifting the cover, Minho invites you under after climbing in first, turning to the side to hover over your now very tired frame. Lips nudged behind your warm Minho kept mumbling, a combination of kissing you and whispering, the tiny vibrations from his voice tickling the bare skin.

“You’ll have to kill more before I ever let you go.”

[justabigassnerd]

Unexpected Visitor and Revelations

Pairing - Jake 'Hangman' Seresin x Bradford!reader

Word count - 4,843

Warnings - swearing, angst, fluff, Jake almost punches Tim, Tim's a bit of an ass at first (and potentially OOC), alcohol, brief mentions of military

Summary - one evening at the Hard Deck, your brother decides to visit, meaning you and Jake have to confess your relationship status

A/N - hey y'all. sorry it's been so long since I last uploaded a fic, my motivation took a divebomb so finishing this took longer than expected. it's been a hot while since I wrote for Jake but I had fun with this! as per y'all, please send in requests, feedback, and enjoy!!!

Much like your older brother, Tim Bradford, you had grown up in a rough household. You had wanted out the first chance you had, so when Tim joined the Army after moving out, you had wanted to do a similar thing a couple of years later when you finally turned eighteen. Only you found yourself more drawn towards the Navy, and instead of wanting to throw yourself on the front line the same way your brother did, you decided to go to college, get a medical education and become a nurse within the Navy and funnily enough, it led you to meet your boyfriend Jake Seresin.

After a few years of moving around from base to base, even helping on certain deployments, You found yourself getting a permanent position in Top Gun’s medical centre, and one day a rather handsome aviator had been brought in after an ejection during his training session. You had heard him outside your office insisting he was fine and didn’t need any sort of evaluation but the second he walked in and locked eyes with you, he never wanted to leave the room. He started coming to your office complaining of various minor things like headaches and stomach pain so that he could have a ten-minute conversation with you. You had somehow unknowingly made Jake uncharacteristically nervous, and it took him a few unneeded visits to your office to get the courage to ask you out for drinks.

And from there your relationship blossomed.

Two years later and you still hadn’t yet told your brother of your relationship with Jake. You truthfully didn’t communicate enough to warrant telling him such information. You knew he was busy with his career in the LAPD and you were always up to your eyeballs in various Navy personnel and their ailments. But part of you wished that he’d respond to your texts and calls instead of only contacting you when he saw fit.

“Hey, Darlin’. I was thinking we could head to the Hard Deck for some drinks tonight.” Jake muses from where he is lounging on the couch, his eyes flicking up from his phone screen to look over at you as you enter the house, kicking your shoes off at the door.

“What did Bradley challenge you to this time?” You ask with a laugh, entering the living room as Jake gets up from the couch, meeting you halfway, sweeping you into his arms and pressing a delicate kiss upon your lips.

“Why do you always assume Bradshaw challenged me to something?” Jake asks lightly, his hands coming to rest on your hips as he pulls you ever so slightly closer.

“Because you either go to the bar straight from work. Or you get home and start texting the Daggers and then one thing leads to another and you’re asking to go to the Hard Deck because someone, usually Bradley, has challenged you to something and you’re incapable of saying no.” You say with a smile, watching as Jake rolls his eyes jokingly.

“It was a pool match,” Jake reveals, smirking at you.

“Told you.” You say, raising an eyebrow as you pat Jake’s chest.

“So… are you coming?” Jake asks with a raised eyebrow, testing the waters.

“Of course, I’ll come. Can’t support my boyfriend from home can I?” You say, smiling at Jake before he leans in for another kiss.

“Perfect. Because I need my good luck charm.” Jake whispers against your lips softly both of you smiling as you pull away.

“I better get changed.” You say, pressing one last kiss to Jake’s lips before heading upstairs to shower and change into something. You pick out one of your favourite outfits, put it on and admire yourself in the mirror with a smile before you finish getting ready and heading downstairs to join Jake who smiled widely.

“Lookin’ gorgeous, Darlin’.” He says, already grabbing the keys to his truck and gesturing for you to come with him, letting you take his hand with a grin. Jake leads you out to his truck, opens the door for you, and lets you get comfortable in the passenger seat before closing the door after you. He then rounds the truck and gets behind the wheel to begin the drive to the Hard Deck. As soon as Jake pulls out of the driveway, one of his hands naturally comes to rest on your thigh, and both of you are unable to stop the smiles widening on your faces.

Pulling up at the Hard Deck always filled you with excitement. The nights were never repetitive and you loved watching the aviators and their friendly competitions as they’d attempt to win free drinks from each other, only stopping when the familiar sound of the bell rang out, signalling a free round from the person who ignored Penny’s rules. As you entered the familiar bar, you smiled at the familiar patrons, giving them friendly nods as you passed them by before you made your way over to where the rest of the Daggers were hanging out by the pool table.

“So, you didn’t run away then?” Bradley teases from where he was leaning against the pool table, pool cue in hand as you and Jake approach the group.

“In your dreams, Bradshaw.” Jake retorts, scoffing lightly as he takes the spare cue from Javy’s outstretched arm.

“I’m going to grab us some drinks. Do you want a beer? I’ll drive tonight if you want.” You offer, resting your hand on Jake’s shoulder and giving it a soft squeeze as he smiles at you.

“You sure you’re okay driving? I can go one night without drinking if you want a couple of drinks, Darlin’.” Jake then says, his eyes scanning yours for answers as you nod.

“I’m fine to drive tonight. I’ll have just as much fun without the alcohol.” You say reassuringly, shifting your hand to pat Jake’s chest before turning on your heels and heading over to the bar, greeting Penny with a smile and ordering a drink for yourself and Jake. Once you get both drinks, you make your way back over to Jake who is beginning to set up the pool table with Bradley, both of them exchanging friendly teasing as they prepare their game.

“Just on time. Are you ready to see me kick Bradshaw’s ass?” Jake boasts, taking the beer bottle from you as Bradley rolls his eyes behind Jake’s back.

“Two years of dating and you can’t make Hangman less of an asshole?” Bradley asks, glancing over at you as you shake your head with a shrug.

“It’s a work in progress.” You reply, a teasing tone to your voice as you briefly glance in Jake’s direction.

“You love it, don’t lie Darlin’,” Jake says with a wink, making you giggle lightly before you lift your drink to your lips to take a sip.

“Can we quit the yapping and start the game? I’ve got good money on this.” Mickey complains, gaining joking glares from the Daggers as Reuben reaches over to slap Mickey on the back of the head lightly.

“Did you really bet on this?” You ask in a hushed tone as you sidle up alongside Mickey, your eyes fixed on Jake as he takes his first shot.

“Yeah. Coyote came up with the idea and I couldn’t pass up the opportunity to get some money out of him.” Mickey replies, glancing over at Javy who was studying Jake’s moves carefully.

“I take it you bet on Bradley winning then?” You muse lightly, taking another sip of your drink as Mickey nods sheepishly.

“Yeah… sorry,” Mickey admits, making you chuckle and shake your head.

“Don’t apologise. I won’t be the one having to pay up when Jake wins.” You joke, nudging Mickey lightly as he laughs.

“Wanna bet?” Mickey says, raising an eyebrow as you scoff lightly.

“I’m good. I don’t want you to lose too much of your money.” You tease before shooting Mickey a quick wink and crossing over to Jake.

“Hey, Darlin’, what were you and Fanboy talking about?” Jake asks, leaning back against the wall while Bradley readies himself.

“Oh, nothing much. Just finding out about the bets going on.” You reply nonchalantly, leaning into Jake’s side as he wraps an arm around your middle, pulling you close.

“Bets, huh? Are you not getting involved?” Jake asks, looking at you, one eyebrow cocked in amusement.

“I already know you’re going to win. I’d feel too mean taking people’s money on top of that.” You say with a soft smile as Jake lets out a soft chuckle.

“You’re too good, Darlin’. I’d be taking advantage of my incredible skills to win all the bets I could.” Jake jokingly brags, kissing the top of your head as you laugh, lightly elbowing Jake in his side.

“Hey, Hangman. If you’re done flirting, it’s your turn.” Bradley calls over to Jake, watching your interaction with an amused grin.

“And he has the audacity to call me an asshole when he’s the one disturbing my time with my girlfriend,” Jake whispers against the shell of your ear, his breath tickling your ear as he squeezes your waist slightly, manoeuvring around you and stepping up to the table to take his next shot as you watch with a smile. You continue to watch the game with a smile, taking small sips of your drink as you watch the game progress. As time passes, you begin to feel flushed, the heat of the bar beginning to feel suffocating so you approach Jake once more, taking his hand softly to get his attention as he smiles at you softly.

“I’m going to step outside for some air.” You say, not missing how Jake’s expression quickly became concerned.

“Are you feelin’ okay?” Jake asks worriedly, his eyes searching yours for an answer.

“I’m fine. It’s just a little hot in here so I just need five or ten minutes outside.” You explain as a cheeky smile makes its way across Jake’s face.

“I knew I was good-looking, Darlin’ but I wasn’t aware I was making the whole bar hotter.” Jake teases, making you roll your eyes as you laugh.

“You’re insufferable.” You joke, making Jake’s grin widen.

“Yet you love me,” Jake says smugly.

“That I do.” You admit quietly, giving Jake a soft kiss before taking a step back and heading out onto the porch of the Hard Deck, the cool air hitting you like a ton of bricks as you sigh in relief. You quietly watch the waves crashing against the sand, taking in the beautiful views of Miramar. After ten minutes of enjoying the cool evening air, you hear the door swing open behind you before a pair of arms wraps around your middle.

“Guess who won, Darlin’?” Jake asks, a large smile on his face as he presses repeated kisses to your cheek.

“Was it Bradley?” You say teasingly, turning in Jake’s arms and smiling at him as he raises an eyebrow in challenge.

“Where did all that faith in me winning go, huh?” Jake replies, his teasing tone matching yours as he pulls you a little closer.

“You know it never went anywhere.” You reply quietly, winding your arms around Jake’s neck as his smile widens, leaning to meet you halfway as your lips connect. One of your hands finds its way into Jake’s hair, running through the short hairs on the nape of his neck as he pulls you impossibly closer, squeezing your waist slightly as he deepens the kiss.

“y/n?!” At the sound of a shocked voice saying your name, you pull away from Jake, looking over in the direction of the voice, and quickly notice your older brother staring at you with a look of absolute shock.

“Tim, what are you doing here?” You ask, moving away from Jake slightly as you turn to face your brother.

“I wanted to come and visit. I thought I could surprise you when I saw you were here and I find this happening?” Tim says, eyes wide as he gestures between you and Jake who subconsciously tightens the arm he wrapped around your waist.

“This is your brother?” Jake whispers, putting two and two together.

“Jake this is my brother, Tim. Tim, this is Jake, my boyfriend.” You say, deciding now was the best time to introduce them.

“It’s nice to meet you,” Jake says, a friendly smile on his face as he holds his free hand out towards Tim who glares at the outstretched hand before focusing on you.

“How long have you been together?” Tim asks, an almost accusing tone to his voice as his gaze flicks between you and Jake, watching Jake’s hand slowly drop, returning to his side.

“Two years.” You state proudly, leaning closer to Jake’s side.

“And you didn’t think to tell me?” Tim questions accusingly, his glare hardening by the second. You were aware of the side eyes you were on the receiving end of from the other patrons of the bar that were out on the porch but with Tim’s accusing tone you couldn’t help but stoop to his level and continue to argue.

“I’m a big girl now Tim. I don’t need to tell you everything. We barely talk enough as it is. I don’t expect you to tell me when you get into a relationship-”

“If you were newly dating him I’d understand why you weren’t ready to tell me, but two years? I thought you’d at least have the decency to tell me by now.” Tim interjects, his anger rising.

“Would you have even cared to pick up the phone if she rang? I may not know the ins and outs of your relationship but every time y/n calls I’m the one watching when her face falls when she gets no response.” Jake says angrily, dropping his hand from your waist so he can take a protective step forward, manoeuvring himself in front of you slightly to shield you from Tim’s lethal glare.

“Did I ask for your input? This is between me and my sister.” Tim says lowly, stepping closer to Jake who clenches his jaw, his hands balling up into fists but holding himself back.

“When you’re being an asshole about something that has quite frankly been none of your business, I’m going to have an input.” Jake snaps, feeling the urge to punch Tim grow stronger and stronger until he feels your hand gently grab his wrist, stepping alongside him.

“Hey, Jake. Why don’t you step inside and hang out with the others and cool off? I think Tim and I are overdue a conversation.” You say softly, your hand drifting from his wrist to his hand, gently prying his closed fist open and interlocking your fingers.

“Are you sure?” Jake asks, his voice quickly becoming soft and gentle as he faces you.

“I’m sure.” You confirm with a nod. At your confirmation, Jake nods softly, pressing a soft kiss upon your lips.

“Get me if you need anything.” Jake then whispers softly, shifting his gaze to give Tim one final warning glare before making his way back into the bar.

“Let’s sit over here.” You say quietly, leading Tim down to one of the benches sat just by the sand. Both of you settle onto the bench, watching the ocean quietly for a moment before you let out a small sigh.

“So why are you here? How did you even find me?” You ask, struggling to believe that Tim came just purely for the reason of it being a surprise visit. That just wasn’t in Tim’s character.

“I still have you on that phone tracking app. I check on it sometimes… I also wasn’t lying about it being a surprise visit. But… someone did push me to visit. She said something about not distancing myself from you. You’re the only family I have left and I was wrong to barely communicate with you.” Tim says, glancing at you, a soft expression not many get to see on his face.

“I’ve missed you. It used to just be us against the world but that stopped so quickly I don’t think I was ready for the change.” You whisper softly, a ghost of a smile on your face as you look at your brother. 

“I’ve missed you too. I’m sorry for the way I’ve been handling communication with you over the last few years.” Tim apologises, already prepping himself for you to reject his apology.

“It’s okay. I can imagine life in the LAPD keeps you on your toes.” You say softly, reaching out and resting your hand on Tim’s shoulder.

“It’s not an excuse. What if you had needed me? Did you need me at all?” Tim asks, concern all over his face as you nod lightly.

“Things get a little lonely while Jake’s on deployments. But I can handle it.” You assure softly, frowning lightly when Tim shakes his head.

“I should’ve been there for you,” Tim says apologetically as you take your hand off his shoulder, resting it in your lap as your frown becomes a soft, reassuring smile.

“Well, you can start now, right? We can make more of an effort to meet up and talk.” You offer gently, watching as Tim nods, a small smile of his own making its way onto his face.

“We can. So… how did you and Jake meet?” Tim asks, smoothly changing the subject as you roll your eyes jokingly.

“If you must know, he came into my office after an ejection for a check-up. I heard him from a mile away complaining about how he didn’t need to be there in the first place but he changed his tune as soon as he came into my office.” You explain, chuckling fondly as you relive the memory of meeting Jake for the first time.

“And he’s treating you well?” Tim then enquires, wanting to make sure you were happy with Jake.

“I’ve never been happier with anyone than I have been with Jake.” You admit with a smile, watching as Tim nods, clearly happy that you were happy.

“Have you got anyone?” You then ask curiously, not missing the way your brother’s eyes widened slightly and a slight blush crossed his cheeks before he nodded slightly.

“I do yeah… her name is Lucy. She’s actually the one who talked me into coming to visit. You’d probably love her.” Tim admits, a small smile gracing his face as he talks about Lucy.

“I might have to come to LA so I can meet her. It’s only fair since you’ve met Jake.” You say, your smile widening as Tim lets out a breathy laugh.

“Hey, I feel like I owe Jake an apology. I was pretty rude to him and I’d like to meet him properly.” Tim then says, becoming more serious as you nod and get to your feet.

“Come on. We’ll head in and you can properly get acquainted with Jake.” You say as Tim stands up alongside you, following you into the Hard Deck, and you expertly manoeuvre your way through the various patrons until you find Jake with the other Daggers by the pool table. Upon noticing you approaching, Jake lights up, swiftly crossing to you and bringing you into his arms, noticing Tim over your shoulder and fighting back a frown.

“Is everything okay with you guys?” Jake asks quietly, pulling back to look you in the eye.

“Everything’s good. We’ve talked it out and Tim wants to get to know you so make an effort please?” You ask, your hands moving to rest on both of Jake’s shoulders as his hands drift to your waist.

“I was willing to make an effort at first but then he was a dick to you,” Jake says with a slight frown, his gaze flicking to glance at Tim who was awkwardly mingling away from the group before focusing on you.

“Tim knows he owes you an apology. Just meet him halfway.” You request softly, watching as Jake sighs lightly before nodding.

“For you, I’ll try. But if he’s an ass to you again we’re heading home.” Jake says before you give him a soft reassuring kiss, hoping both Tim and Jake are able to form some sort of friendship. After pulling away from the kiss, Jake heads over to Tim, as you follow behind.

“y/n said you wanted to talk?” Jake says, folding his arms across his chest as Tim nods.

“I wanted to apologise for the way I acted earlier. It wasn’t right of me to be so rude to you for no reason.” Tim apologises, studying Jake’s expression, briefly glancing at you as Jake remains stonefaced.

“It wasn’t just me you were a dick to.” Jake states simply, making you speak up.

“He’s already apologised to me, Jake.” You say quickly, defending your brother from Jake’s potential anger.

“You’re right. I was rude to y/n too and that wasn’t okay either. We’ve talked it out and we’ve agreed that we’ll make an effort to communicate and meet up more.” Tim explains, his gaze flicking between you and Jake who nods slightly.

“I better not find out you stop talking to her after this,” Jake says, watching carefully as Tim shakes his head.

“I won’t let myself. I don’t want to lose my sister.” Tim says, looking over at you and smiling softly which you mirror, the action finally getting Jake to soften.

“Okay. Fine. Let me buy you a drink and we can talk properly. Darlin’, are you good to stay with the others while we talk?” Jake says, at first directed to Tim before he turns to face you, watching you carefully as you nod.

“I’ll be fine. You go and talk with Tim.” You assure Jake softly, waving him off and watching as Jake leads Tim over to the bar, both of them sitting on a stool as Jake orders drinks before you turn to join the Daggers.

“Here you boys go,” Penny says, placing the two beers down on the bar counter, watching as they each take a beer with a nod after they pay for their drinks before focusing on other customers.

“So, y/n said she met you after you went through an ejection. That makes you an aviator, then?” Tim asks, after taking a sip of his beer, watching as Jake nods.

“Yeah, I am. That group over there with y/n is my squadron. We’ve been a permanent squadron just longer than I’ve known y/n.” Jake replies, glancing over at you laughing with the Daggers.

“I used to be in the Army. I served on a couple of tours myself.” Tim says as Jake turns around to face him, smiling.

“At least you had the sense to get out of there. I’m glad y/n was smart enough to join us in the Navy.” Jake says teasingly, chuckling as Tim quirks an eyebrow.

“If that helps you sleep at night,” Tim says with a laugh, lifting his beer bottle to his lips and taking a sip.

“I mean I sleep very well at night. Especially considering-”

“You know what, you can end that sentence there.” Tim quickly says, holding his free hand up, grimacing at the thought of what Jake was going to say.

“Alright, alright,” Jake says with a laugh, holding his hands up in surrender as Tim rolls his eyes.

“You know. y/n told me how happy you make her. I’m glad she has someone like you.” Tim admits quietly, but somehow Jake hears him, instantly softening, his eyes flicking across to you as the corners of his lips tug up in a small smile.

“I don’t deserve her. She makes me so unbelievably happy. So I’ve made it my mission to make her as happy as she makes me.”  Jake replies, his voice quiet as he turns back to face Tim who nods in some semblance of approval.

“I can tell you both love each other. But if she ends up telling me you did something to break her heart I won’t be afraid to hurt you.” Tim says, suddenly becoming serious as Jake nods.

“Well, the same can be said for you. If I find out you’ve cut communication with her again or are just being an all-around shit brother, it won’t just be me tracking you down. It’ll be those guys too. They love her just as much as I do.” Jake says pointing over at the Daggers who were all far too busy chatting with you and playing darts and pool to notice Jake pointing them all out as a warning to Tim.

“You’re very protective over her. I appreciate that. And I won’t fuck up. I won’t let myself lose my sister.” Tim says, nodding when Jake glances back over at him.

“Of course I’m protective. y/n is the love of my life. But I also know she can hold her own if she needs to. I know what you mean though. I’m an older brother as well, it would be hard for me to handle seeing my sister with a partner because well… she’s my little sister I want to make sure she’s safe from any heartbreak.” Jake admits, thinking of his younger sister and how he’d react if he went to visit her one day and found out she was dating someone.

“You’re a good guy, Jake,” Tim says, offering a hand out towards Jake who smiles before grasping his hand, shaking it firmly.

“You’re not bad yourself Tim. I think we’ll get along.” Jake says, releasing Tim’s hand and moving to hold his beer bottle up in an act of cheers. Tim gently taps his bottle against Jake’s before the two men exchange a nod, solidifying a friendship.

“How has it been going over here?” You ask, getting the attention of both Tim and Jake as you stand alongside Jake.

“I think we’re going to get on well, Darlin’,” Jake says with a reassuring smile, his free hand grabbing yours and squeezing softly, pulling you a little closer.

“Good, I’m glad. I didn’t want to have to break up a bar fight or something.” You laugh as both men’s jaws drop in mock shock, both of them insisting that they’d never do such a thing.

“You picked a good guy, y/n,” Tim says with a soft smile, nodding in approval as you smile gratefully in return.

“Thank you, Tim. I’m so glad you came to visit. Even if it was a surprise and we argued at first.” You admit with a soft laugh as both Jake and Tim nod with laughs of their own.

“I’m glad I came too. Look, as much as I’d love to stay longer, I might need to head home. I’ve got an early start tomorrow and I don’t want to get caught in traffic.” Tim says, noticing how you frown slightly before you nod, understanding why he needs to go.

“Okay. Text me when you’re home. I’ll have to find time to come and visit you in LA.” You say as Tim stands up, moving to hug him tightly.

“I’d love to have you come visit me in LA. I’ll keep in touch.” Tim says, squeezing you softly before releasing you. When you step back, Jake shakes Tim’s hand.

“I’ll see you around, Tim,” Jake says with a smile.

“Definitely,” Tim replies, releasing Jake’s hand, both of them nodding at each other before stepping back, letting you lead Tim to the door to say one last goodbye, watching as he gets into his truck and drives off to head back to LA. After Tim has driven off, you make your way back into the bar and over to Jake who sweeps you up into his arms, holding you close.

“Thank you for everything tonight.” You whisper only audible to Jake who moves to kiss your temple softly.

“You don’t need to thank me. I did nothing. I’m just glad you and Tim have been able to make amends.” Jake says with a soft chuckle, hugging you a little closer.

“You supported me and tried to get to know my brother even if you almost punched his lights out earlier.” You say, pulling back enough so you could look Jake in the eye, your hands gliding up to his shoulders and winding around his neck, fingers playing with the hairs on the nape of his neck.

“For you, I’d do anything,” Jake replies softly, leaning in closer as you mirror his actions, leaning in until your lips connect, kissing softly, not caring about the things going on around you.

“We definitely need to plan a trip to LA. Tim told me he has a girlfriend and I need to meet her.” You mumble as you pull away, hearing Jake hum lightly in response before the reality of what you said sinks in and his eyes widen.

“Wait. Tim has a girlfriend?”

Top Gun tags (comment or ask to be added):

@malindacath @kmc1989

[nolita-fairytale]

bad moon rising | carmen 'carmy' berzatto x fem!reader

summary: in another lifetime, you meet mikey berzatto by chance one halloween night in nyc.

or, the fic based on this headcanon

warnings: angst, use of she/her pronouns, no use of y/n, second person pov, drug usage, high mikey b, swearing, family drama, depression, not a happy ending

wc: 3.7k

a/n: i wrote about grief again. shocking, i know. thank you all for your interest based on the headcanon it came from and thank you for your patience. i wanted so badly to post this around halloween and have been sitting on it since the better part of last year as one of my wips. finally, finally, it's here!! i took a slightly different approach than the headcanon, but i think it still does it justice. let me know if you'd like to be added or removed from the carmy taglist.

this what-if fic takes place october 2021 because it's make my heart surrender-canon that mikey and reader never met; reader x carmy are best friends and colleagues but it has not gone further than that.

masterlist

Halloween, in another lifetime:

“Can I get hands, please!” Carmy shouts out to the entire kitchen, only to be met with a strong chorus of ‘hands’ in response.

His team works together like a well-oiled machine; a tight run ship, led by a captain near-suffocated under the weight of the chip on his shoulder. 

“Chef!” you hear the sound of your general manager’s voice ring through the kitchen, causing many a-heads to turn. She rarely comes into the kitchen during dinner service unless it’s serious. Her eyes lock with Carmy’s as he looks up from his expo, as if she’s about to deliver bad news. 

His mind races through the possibilities, preparing to solve the next oncoming crisis. Could it be an undercooked steak? An overcooked duck breast? Another complaint of ‘too salty’ or ‘underseasoned?’ 

“Chef, you uh… you have a visitor,” she says instead–the last thing he expects to hear. 

A visitor? 

“Wh-?” 

“Someone’s here to see you. Says he’s your… brother??” Carmy’s ears begin to burn, as he searches for your face amidst the chaos, your gaze there to catch him even from across the kitchen. Your presence feels reassuring, like a strong man in a storm. He doesn’t know what to do. He’s knee deep into service and he cannot get the sound of tickets being added to the expo out of his head. He opens his mouth to say something but he’s uncertain any words come out of his mouth, unsure of what he’d even say. You send him a reassuring nod, and it’s as if in one look, you’ve made the decision to go. 

“Chef, you good?” Carmy hears you ask the head pastry chef. 

“Yeah, we got it. But don’t take too long,” she answers with a curt nod of approval. 

He watches as you nod again, this time in recognition of your boss’ answer, as you pull the food-grade nitrile gloves off of your hands, discarding them in the nearby trash can. Without a word, you follow Kate closely behind, exchanging a few words with her as the two of you disappear to the front of house. There’s a war inside of Carmy as he watches you go–a pang of guilt and a feeling of relief–that whatever it is, you’ve agreed to take care of it. 

In all of the years that he’s been in New York, no one’s come to see him–the possibility of it happening now, let alone as a surprise, feels improbable. 

Must be a prank or some shit…. 

It couldn’t really be Michael, could it? 

As you seek out the answer, your feet carrying you faster than you anticipated, you realize that you’re searching for a face you’ve only seen in photographs. Kate follows closely behind while you push through the front door of the restaurant only to find a man pacing just outside of the restaurant, a ghostface mask in hand. You can tell he’s been sweating, the circles under his eyes just as dark as the ones you’ve become so familiar with in Carmy, with an anxious look in his eyes as his gaze turns towards you. 

He’s certainly not the larger-than-life older brother you’ve seen in the sparse amount of pictures that Carmy’s shown you.  

“I got this, Kate,” you mutter over your shoulder with a confident nod, letting your general manager know that you’re good on your own. “You sure?” she asks you quietly. 

“I’m sure,” you answer, watching as a disappointed look spread across Michael���s face as soon as he sees that: 

“You’re not Carmen.” 

“Uh… no. I’m not,” you reply, hearing the front door to the restaurant close behind you. The man swears under his breath, and you watch as face changes from disappointment to annoyance quickly, as you try your best to come up with an explanation that may satisfy him. “He uh… he can’t come out. Not right now. So he sent me.” 

Michael scoffs with a shake of his head, his eyebrows quickly rising and falling incredulously as he takes another drag off his cigarette. 

“Shit... the guy can't even make time to see his big brother?" he asks, the annoyance obvious in his voice this time. 

You take a step towards him, your arms folded across your chest. 

“I’m sorry. I-, I don't think he was expecting you,” you answer, much more compassionately this time. 

“Right,” Michael mumbles, barely loud enough for you to hear. You watch as he throws the butt of his cigarette down on the pavement, before stamping it out. 

“It’s just-. He would if he could. I know it. It's just a busy night. I-... we're doing 200 covers tonight and uh... well, he runs the kitchen so,” you try again, and you can practically feel the disappointment (and resentment) burying itself deeper in Michael. 

“Yeah, no thanks, lady. You don’t need to explain it to me. Jagoff can’t even make time to say ‘hi’ to his brother. Sends you to do his dirty work instead,” Michael dismisses you, bitterly. 

He takes a beat. And then another, as if he’s accepted that he’s not going to see Carmy after all. 

“Why don’t you come inside? I’m sure-,” you offer, taking another step towards him. 

“‘S alright, sweetheart,” he dismisses you again, this time gentler. “You don’t need to make up for his bullshit.” 

You open your mouth to say something—anything in defense of Carmy—but you’re certain that nothing you have to say will be enough for your best friend’s older brother (save for Carmy coming out here himself).

With a nod, you accept defeat, turning to go back inside. But there’s something that stops you—like you just can’t just go back inside without trying to remedy the situation one last time. This time all you say is:

“I don’t know how long you’re in town for but… we should be off by midnight.”

Michael only offers you a sympathetic smile before you slip back inside. 

—---------------------------------------

It’s not until you and Carmy are packing up your things to head home that he brings it up—his mysterious visitor—hesitant to ask the question that’s been eating at him all night. 

“So uh… was it really him? Michael?” he asks you, cautiously, as he watches your face carefully for any kind of reaction. 

“Uh… yeah. I mean, at least the guy I recognized from your pictures,” you reply, hoping that the answer (or the fact that he missed his brother) won’t break his heart. 

A beat.

“What’d he want?” Carmy asks, trying to mask his curiosity as best as possible. 

“I don’t know,” you answer honestly. “Seems like he found himself in the city. I didn’t ask. I didn’t… know if you wanted me to.” 

Carmy tries again. 

“Oh no. It’s-, no I didn’t-, no, it’s okay.” 

He takes his time, making up his mind about what he wants to say next. 

“It’s weird, right? Guy can barely pick up the phone to say hello but… he can show up unannounced and just like-, expect me to drop everything?” he asks you—the look in his eyes telling you that his mind is miles away. 

“I- I don’t know, Carmy,” you reply, heavily. “Are you… do you wish you had gone instead of me?” 

Carmy’s quiet as he follows you out of the back door of the restaurant, thinking his answer over. 

“I don’t know,” he answers slowly, a lack of confidence as the words fall out of his mouth. “Maybe?” 

He’s not sure how he’s supposed to feel and right now he just feels… ambushed, which only makes him want to shut down. 

Instead, Carmy changes the subject back to your post-work plans, the two of you debating what kind of post-shift late night meal you’re going to have before settling on a few slices of pizza on the way back to your place. You and Carmy cut through the alley to the front of the restaurant so that you can begin your late-night sojourn, and it’s only when he spots something odd that he stops you. 

“What the fuck?” Carmy cuts you off, holding an arm out in front of you to stop you from walking any further. 

You follow his line of sight right over to a figure moving towards the both of you. In the brief glimpse you’ve gotten of the person moving towards you, all you can see is a quick flash of the ghostface mask they hold in their hands as a bus drives by, obstructing your view. 

Carmy’s heart stops, fear filling his chest as the bus speeds by, the person getting closer and closer until…

“Michael?!” Carmy shouts, squinting as he sees the man approach. His expression of pure shock leaves his jaw agape, rendering him speechless as he scrambles to try to find better words that: 

“What-, what the fuck are you doing here?” 

“Shit,” Michael scoffs playfully, with a chuckle, his breath uneven from the light jogging pace he’d kept. Michael takes note of the arm his younger brother’s extended, shielding you from him. “What? Can’t your big brother come surprise ya in the big city?” 

Carmy shoots him a look that says, ‘when have you ever done that’ and Michael nods knowingly, his eyebrows quickly raising, then lowering as he makes peace with the fact that he’s never been that guy. 

“Me and Deb… we came up for the weekend,” Mikey admits with a heavy sigh. “Tried to do something nice for her but, you know, broad’s been a real bitch-.” 

“Mikey,” Carmy warns, taking a tone you recognize—the kind he uses when he’s going to yell at the saucier for a broken mornay. 

“Right,” Mike course corrects at the volume of a mumble, heaving a heavy, yet disarming sigh. 

Carmy nods slowly as he allows some part of him to relax, his arm falling away from you as the two of you exchange a look. 

“We uh…. Got into another fight. She’s on her way back to Chicago now,” Mikey explains, the disappointment evident in his voice this time, almost as if it were an apology. 

“Sorry,” Carmy mutters quietly, as you exchange a look with him. 

“Nah it’s-, she’ll get over it,” Mikey brushes off with a shrug, his tone shifting as he extens an arm out to you.

“Fuck, where are my manners? I never properly introduced myself earlier. I’m Mikey. Mikey Berzatto,” he grins with a charm and confidence that’s been absent in both of your interactions with him till now. The smile that spreads across his face is contagious as he looks from you to Carmy, then back to you. “Shit. I’m sorry. ‘M fuckin’ jagoff, interupting your night like this. I should probably get-.” 

“No!” you protest, almost too quickly, earning a look from Carmy. “We weren’t-, we were just getting off work and were gonna grab a bite. Maybe even… a drink?” you suggest, a hopefulness in your eyes as you turn towards Carmy. 

“Yeah?” Michael asks, his interest piqued. 

“Uhm. Just gonna grab a bite actually,” Carmy forces out, sending a glare in your direction. 

“You know what’s crazy? I know a spot. With food. And drinks,” you challenge him, silently begging him to just go with it. 

“You cool with that, Carm?” Mike asks this time, looking from you to his younger brother once more. It’s the first time that Carmy thinks Michael’s ever looked to him for approval. 

Carmy’s quiet for a moment, torn between wanting to burn it all down or declare a gleeful ‘yes’ because at least Mikey wants to spend time with him. 

“Um. Uh. Yeah. Yeah okay,” Carmy finally agrees. 

“Alright, let’s fuckin’ do it!” Mikey rallies. 

And as he turns to go, your voice instructing him that it’s only a few blocks from here, you and Carmy fall into stride, just a few steps behind Mikey. 

“I’m gonna kill you,” Carmy threatens you—though there’s no weight to it—through gritted teeth. 

You shove him playfully, bumping your shoulder against his side as the two of you walk, answering with a promise that: “You’ll thank me later.” 

—---------------------------------------

You sit on one side of Carmy, Mikey on the other, and you can see why Carmy looks at his older brother like he hung the sun, the moon, and the stars above. There’s something different about Michael—something different than when you met him just hours ago outside of the restaurant—as he corrals the three of you into a round of shots. 

As the shots of tequila arrive at the bar, Carmy dismisses his, his attention fixed to the still-full whiskey on the rocks he’d ordered earlier, just to appease his older brother. He watches you carefully as you and Mikey clink glasses before throwing back your own respective shots. 

“Carm?” Mikey asks, nodding towards the third, untouched shot glass. 

Carmy hesitates. 

“It’s fine. I’ll take his,” you jump in, half as an attempt to give Carmy the out he so desperately desires, and half because, admittedly, meeting the great Mikey Berzatto makes you a little nervous.

Before anyone can protest, you reach out, picking up the shot glass, before tapping it down against the bar top, fearlessly throwing it back. Michael watches you with a sense of amusement, as your face crinkles in response to the sting of the liquor and the bitterness of the lime you chase it with. 

He smirks, sharing a knowing look with his younger brother that says, “I like this girl,” which in turn only causes Carmy to blush. Before Mikey can say anything more, the song that blares through the speakers changes, earning his attention as he hears the familiar words:

“I see the bad moon a-risin' I see trouble on the way I see earthquakes and lightnin' I see bad times today”

“Alright, alright. Think it’s a little too on the nose if I admit that I love this song? On Halloween? C’maaaaaahn,” Mikey asks, almost as if it’s a confession in reference to the easily recognizable Creedance Clearwater revival hit. 

“No! No, I love this song,” you’re quick to assuage his hesitation as your eyes light up in response to his recognition. 

“You got good taste, kid,” Michael notes confidently, winking in his brother’s direction. “I like this girl, Carm.”

Only this time, he says it out loud. Carmy only shakes his head, the blush already running across his cheeks taking a deeper shade of red. 

“Yeah, yeah. Uh. You both uh.. Like music,” Carmy smiles, gesturing from you to his brother. At least this is going a lot better than he expected it to, he reminds himself. 

“Oh yeah?” Michael asks, clearly intrigued. 

“Oh that’s right!” you exclaim, simultaneously. The excitement that brews within you has you stumbling over your words as you manage to get out:

“You’re-, oh my god! The Lennon jacket!” 

“What?” Mike asks, shooting you a funny look. 

“I’m sorry. I just-. I realize I’m not-,” you stammer over your words, trying your best to explain your earlier exclamation over your own excitement. 

“You gave Carmy the denim jacket – the 1950s selvedge Wrangler!” 

“Just like the-,” Michael starts, the two of you finishing his sentence at once with: 

“... just like the one John Lennon had!” 

“Marry this girl, Carm. Marry her right now. Tonight! Or I will,” Michael encourages, slapping his hand down against the bar. He speaks with so much bravado and conviction that you can only imagine that there was none left for Carmy. “Fuckin’ christ. I never should’ve let you two meet,” Carmy groans on an exasperated exhale as he shakes his head once again. 

“Oh c’mon, Carm,” Mikey rouses him, with a playful eye roll. 

“It’s totally my favorite jacket of his! I-, well, it’s a long story but we actually became friends over the jacket because he spilled a drink on me and-,”

“Ahhh real smooth.” 

“No! No, it was okay, I promise. I-, I don’t know if we would’ve gotten to know each other if he hadn’t so-. Call it a lucky jacket, I guess,” you smile, stealing a look in Carmy’s direction. He shoots the smallest smile back to you, cognizant of the fact that Mikey’s observing the entire interaction. 

As you begin to tell Michael the story about the aforementioned Lennon jacket, it could be minutes, hours, or days that pass, once you and Mikey finish trading facts about music like they’re trivia cards. It’s almost as entertaining as watching Mikey and Carmy go at it, bouncing facts about the history of denim like you’re at the French Open. 

You excuse yourself to the restrooms—partially because you really have to pee and partially because it seems like this evening is going well—wanting to give both brothers some time alone. And as soon as you’re out of earshot, Mikey’s on Carmy like an FBI Investigation. 

“This your girl, Carm, or what?" he asks with a casualness to his voice that sets off alarms in Carmy’s head. 

"Mikey, stop it,” Carmy dismisses him, hoping more than anything for this to be the end of the conversation. 

Instead, Mikey scoffs, shaking his head as he downs another shot. 

"Then at least tell me you're hittin' that." 

“Michael!" Carmy hushes his brother, a warning and protectiveness in his voice this time. 

"Are you fuckin' serious right now, Bear?” Michael pushes further. “What, you're telling me you're not when she’s walkin’ around in your jacket, talkin’ about wearing your clothes to your big brother and I’m supposed to think-?" 

"She's not!” Carmy cuts him off. “She doesn’t do-, she’s.... my friend. Jus’ give it up alright.” 

"Shit. Wish I had a friend like that. Ya friends, kid, or are ya... you know... friends?" Mikey smirks, earning a venomous glare from his younger brother. 

Carmy shakes his head in response, jaw clenched, as he stares down at the bar top, a feeling inside of him that he doesn’t like when he even thinks about Mikey looking at you like that. 

"Shit, I thought I taught you better than that, Bear." 

There it is again.

That feeling. 

He’s not sure how to name it, but it’s enough to make Carmy want to deck his brother right then and there as it rises inside of him. 

"I'm serious, Mike. We’re just friends,” Carmy spits out. He’s much more serious this time. “Cut it out." 

But Michael’s too quick, his voice growing louder as he interjects on the tail end of Carmy’s insistence.

"Oh come on! The chick's smokin' fuckin' hot. And I can tell that you like her. I'm not blind, Carm. I see the way you-."

And if it’s as if something snaps inside of Carmy as he exclaims: 

"Don't talk to me like you know what's going on in my life! Fuck!" 

"Carm-." 

"Can't even pick up the damn phone and then you just... waltz into town acting like everything is okay?!” he fumes, standing up out of his chair. 

His face grows redder with each word, and it only confirms Mikey’s suspicions: that his little brother is absolutely a goner for you. He’s not sure he’s ever seen Carmy like this and he’s torn between feeling proud of his kid brother or pissed that the kid’s turning this around on him. 

"Well, if you ever bothered to come home. You know mom's been askin' about you since you never fuckin’-,” Mikey roars, eager to relinquish the hotseat here.

“Oh don't bring mom into this!" Carmy protests.

It’s your voice that snaps him out of it—brings him back to earth as he hears you ask:

“Everything okay?” 

Carmy can practically hear his heart pounding away in his ears; can feel the blood rushing through his head as he takes a deep breath. He swallows, takes a beat, then turns to you. 

“Yeah uh. I think we should go,” he states, his voice uneven and tense as you try to get a read on either brother. 

“Uh… yeah, I guess we can-, um,” you stammer out, wondering how things went from good to hell in a matter of minutes. Carmy mutters something about getting your stuff as you try your best to put the pieces together. 

“It was uh, nice to meet you, Mikey,” you say softly, as soon as you get your coat on. 

“Yeah. You too, sweetheart,” he nods, something distant in his voice. Carmen scoffs at his brother’s usage of the word before tugging on your arm. 

You wait a beat, in anticipation of some kind of goodbye between the brothers, but there is none as you follow Carmy out of the bar. 

—---------------------------------------

Halloween, again — in this lifetime:

When Carmy comes to, he can hear the faint sounds of an episode of Pasta Grannies in the background, uncertain of what time it is. 

“Hey, you. You fell asleep on the couch and I didn’t have the heart to wake you up,” you say, as he begins to sit up. Carmy blinks his eyes a few more times, watching as you make your way from the kitchen island over to the couch, taking a seat at his feet. 

“Did you still want to watch a scary movie? You know, in the spirit of the holiday?” you ask him with a soft chuckle. 

All Carmy can remember before falling asleep was what he was thinking about: what it would be like if you had met Mikey. It’s something he thinks of often, especially as the two of you grow closer—as your relationship gets more serious—and it’s something he hates that he’ll never be able to give to you. 

“This was his favorite holiday,” Carmy manages to get out, the sleep heavy in his voice. 

You’re not all that surprised. Carmy’s been on edge lately and you assumed it was because Mikey’s birthday’s coming up. But this… this makes sense too. 

“I wish I could’ve met him,” you smile, reaching out for one of his hands. 

Carmy nods. 

“Yeah. Uh. Yeah. Think he would’ve loved you.” 

Maybe a little too much, he thinks to himself. 

“You think so?” you ask with a vulnerability and a desire for reassurance that catches Carmy off guard. 

He nods with much more confidence this time, offering you a soft, sympathetic smile.  

“Yeah, sweetheart. I know so.”

[vagabond-umlaut]

it's easy to ferry souls, not carry them

deep down in the realm of the netherworlds, there exists a rower who transports deceased souls from the land of living to the land of dead-

and occasionally lends an ear and a hand, in the event of yet another collision between their weary queen and her just as cheery suitor...

[uraume deserves a raise.]

▸gojo satoru x fem!reader; the tale of kore!gojo & hades!reader w a guest appearance by charon!uraume; uraume is a very nice parental figure to you [ooc!uraume but ehh]; the reader is honestly so sweet and hot-tempered...; the cutest doggy cerberus too is there!!!!; gojo satoru must be his own warning...; uraume does not like gojo [no parent [blood-related or not] actually wld]; fire hazards; 2k wc

▸ i've nvr read percy jackson and wtv i wrote here is based on my shaky knowledge of greek myths and stuff 😁😁 anyways, this header's from pinterest, these dividers are by @benkeibear and the characters used ain't mine. pls do not plagiarize, translate or repost this. enjoy reading! ❤️

▸ belongs to series 'wreaths of asphodel' – same universe as the work 'hey, where is the pomegranate tree?' — but you can treat this as a stand-alone fic if you wanna!

"why is kore so set on marrying me, uraume?"

it isn't the ask itself which causes the rower to nearly lose grip of their oar– but the way it is spoken: soft, solemn and faintly tense. they look away from the endless expanse of the styx before, to find you staring at your reflection in the inky waters, features unnaturally crumpled.

uraume holds back a frown. "has her majesty considered asking the god the same?"

"i have asked him," you mumble, "but i did not receive any conclusive answer in return. the imp was being too vague– must be a trait learnt from those shifty nymphs always sticking to his side."

if your faithful follower detects anything except dislike in your words, they make no mention of it. merely humming as they continue to row the boat, "and may this servant know the question her majesty asked the god?"

"two," you mumble even more clumsily now; they take a beat to grasp it, too concerned by the way you drape yourself over the edge, nearly falling into the water as you say, "i asked him two questions— one, if he loves me; two, if he wants to have children should we get married."

shock must not be uraume's first reaction to these queries, yet it is— and for a moment, it isn't you sitting there anymore.

instead, it is a little girl, no older than seven or eight years, cherubic face fixed in a look of deep concentration and fascination while the rower narrates to her stories from times millennia ago–

only for the child to morph into a young lady– no, goddess– the very next beat... slouched under a regal cloak too heavy for her shoulders, under a royal crown too large for her head... that sweet innocence of childhood nothing but traces now, having been withered by the foul, dirty politics of those damned deities high up on that mountain—

"what answers did the olympian offer her majesty?"

"he said he would love me and sire my children if that is what i want— i asked if he wished anything out of our union— he said all he wanted is to be my husband–"

something between a frustrated sigh and an exhausted scoff erupts from you, becoming an opaque fog the moment it hits the frigid air of the underworld. uraume plucks the oar out the water to come sit next to you, letting the boat be driven by magic.

"you're worried," they state, forgoing all formalities in favour of giving you some much-needed comfort. you never much cared for stations anyways, quite unlike your elder brother, the former king.

"an unfamiliar friend poses more risk than a familiar enemy, uraume," you mutter, resting your head on their shoulder, "why do you think kore wishes to marry me so much, if not out of love or the prospect of the powerful offsprings we might beget?"

"marriage is not solely for love or for procreation," the rower starts to explain, mildly amused before it grows into sympathy at your baffled expression.

ah, they muse fondly, not unlike a parent watching their child witness the world seemingly the first time ever since they learnt to walk, you who presides over something as profound as death yet knows not of the trivialities of life...

"it can also be for many other reasons like–"

the remainder of the words skitter away from uraume— cerberus is playing with gojo.

the fierce guard of the netherworlds, the three-headed hound, loyal and dutiful to a fault: hades' dearest canine companion is frolicking with the god of life in a green meadow, that most certainly was not there so close to the stygian marsh, when they last—

"gojo is laughing," your remark draws them away from their musings, only to find a changed shadow over your countenance— pensive yet not thinking at all; almost as if you too are floating in the stale air of your kingdom akin the soft flower petals...

another ring of raucous laughter pierces the silence, mingled with a delighted series of barks— cerberus is busy licking gojo's face now, the olympian reduced to a puddle of giggles as he scratches behind the dog's ears.

his happiness so clear in the stretch of his grin and the crinkle of his eyes, very much the jarring contrast to the last time—

oh. oh, oh, oh–

"escape," the word leaves uraume in a sudden moment of realisation, as quiet as a breath but loud enough for you to whip your head back to face them, confusion engraved into your scowl. "escape?? what is that supposed to mean, eh?"

the rower feels their lips lift into an infrequent smile. "the god of life wishes to marry you to escape— from his mother, or from his many suitors, or perhaps from mount olympus itself."

"wha– how– hah," you breathe out a disbelieving little huff, "that is simply ridiculous. have you even heard yourself? that is ridiculous."

used to such resistance from yourself, even more from your brother, they move to state their points, only to beaten by you as you persist to speak.

"no one in their right mind will decide to come live in the underworld, no matter how overbearing their mother or insistent their suitors are. have you seen this place? it's too, too unlike the lushness of the earth or the grandeur of the heavens he has experienced. and–" you add, a harsh laugh accompanying it. "gojo satoru is a god. a fish might leave the water— but a god never steps a voluntary foot down that horrible mountain. never."

"but the olympian never truly lived on mount olympus," uraume says once they're sure you've completed your tirade, "and you are a goddess as well. why do you speak so ill of the heavens then?"

"why?" you echo the word. they nod, hoping you take the bait they've intended for you. you do.

"why, because that place is nothing but a shining apple with a rotten core!! everything is polished marble and glittering gold there. people constantly wave at each other, lavishing smiles and praises like there is no tomorrow. everything is so warm and bright— what a bunch of lies and liars!"

familiar fire burns in your aura, the immense heat making the waters erupt into boiling— uraume uses their powers to cool the river down, lest anything disturbs you.

you're too far gone in your rage to be shaken, however, continuing:

"but it never can hide the grime and dirt accrued beneath such shine and sheen. nor the vicious minds and crooked hearts of those deities up above– what lame excuses of gods and goddesses, hah. and you might think me to prefer the light and warmth up there— you will be sorely wrong, my dear uraume!! i much prefer the genuine darkness and frigidity of my beloved kingdom to the faux comfort of the awful mount olympus—"

"is there no possibility the god of life too despises mount olympus for these same reasons, milady?"

you open your mouth and close it, then open it again to let out a very aggrieved whine– momentarily transporting uraume to your younger days. the rower merely chuckles when you punch their arm lightly.

"you're the worst, uraume," you cry, getting up and moving to sit on the other end of the boat. the rower too rises but only to resume rowing the boat by the oar.

"you never spoke this way when sukuna was the ruler— only because his baby sister is the ruler now, and you think she is very stupid—"

"as much as i respect and revere lord sukuna, he wasn't one to listen to anyone else," uraume interrupts gently, "you do, though– which is why i spent so much time telling you this. i hope you did not mind."

"hey, no," you immediately wave away their concern with a wide grin, eliciting a smaller one from the latter, "i could never..."

another peal of laughter and barks rings through the otherwise-quiet. you abruptly trail off, the same conflicting expression from before on your face yet again. though not without a spark in your eyes, uraume notes, almost as if you're slowly learning how to solve the puzzle who is repeatedly offering himself to you.

uraume keeps the silence you initiate, choosing to row the boat while you keep staring at the assortment of hues near the stygian marsh...

until you call their name and declare, an odd firmness in your smile, "well then, it is decided. i shall allow gojo to stay here for as long as the god so wishes to, escaping whatever or whoever he is escaping. and i shall protect him from the latter, should it ever come for him."

a beat. your smile falls into something graver. "would it be better if i swore by the dread water of styx, uraume?"

"uh, um," the rower finds themselves at a loss of words, the first time in seemingly forever, and they have been around since titanomachy– but before they can recover themselves enough to formulate a proper reply, a giggly voice joins in—

"well, if my rose does that, i would consider myself the most blessed amongst all mortals and immortals!"

— and the waters surrounding the boat shoot upwards in a scathing geyser-like jet and steam— the ferocious queen of the netherworlds visibly torn between remorse and terror, as they offer uraume a stiff nod and gojo a horrified look, before vanishing in a wisp of fog.

the boiling waters of the river styx calm down only after a twenty-minute-long struggle by uraume, joined at the very end by gojo.

the latter looks positively delighted, when the former collapses to the bottom of the boat, exhausted beyond belief. "hey, charon. was that a result of your queen getting flustered by me, huh?"

yes, it was. it very much was, the sentences nearly slip past the tired rower's crumbling defences... until it hits them– who they serve, and who they don't.

uraume decides to throw back a glare and a lie. "her majesty was not flustered, lord kore. she was enraged at how you invaded the privacy of her weekly boat ride, intended to make her relax."

"oh, puh-lease," the god makes a face. the rower is certain he would have been punished in the pits of tartarus for all eternity, then some more were he to pursue you this way during your brother's reign, let alone disrespect you thus.

ignorant and insolent, he continues, "in few days time, i'll be allowed into the privacy of her living quarters; what is the privacy of her boat th—"

"you're lucky you did not make such outrageous remarks in front of the queen," uraume cuts him off, none too kindly nor gently, "if you did, her majesty would have certainly burnt you along with the boat to a crisp–"

"i know," comes the defeated reply within the instant. and while gojo is still not in uraume's good graces, the latter decides to notch him a level higher, considering the god of life accepts their queen's powers.

not many do.

he strikes a pathetically pitiful figure, uraume reckons, seeing him sit then slouch on the bench. "was she serious when she said she would protect me?"

your loyal subject nods, certain and solemn. "yes, she was. the queen is never careless when it comes to making promises."

"oh, that's reassuring," gojo says quietly— only to recline even further in the very next beat– an anguished, grating wail tearing from him to the stifling silence looming near the stygian marsh. uraume wonders if it is worth it to steer the boat towards acheron... then push him into its waters of woe...

they decide against it on catching the desperation worn by the god.

for all it is, it might nothing more than a ploy. yet something tugs at their mind to pause and listen when gojo howls, "why does my rose always scurry away after tilting my world on its axis? why does your queen always torment me like this, charon?"

uraume stares pensively at their face in the sacred waters of styx for a while. then heaves a mighty sigh.

certain, this exchange between the goddess of the dead and the god of life will impact not only your and gojo's respective worlds— but the general world and everyone else in it, as well.

did you know, in the actual greek myths, persephone was never called so before her marriage to hades? she got it only after, w the name meaning "bringer of death". her initial name was kore, referring to her being a maiden & the spring goddess.

the river styx was called the "dread river of oath" by homer– in both the iliad and the odyssey [greek epic poems], swearing by its waters is the "greatest and most dread oath for the blessed gods" -> this shows how serious the reader is towards ensuring gojo's safety and freedom, and how deeply this affects gojo as well [source: wiki 😇]

also: the reader is totally ready to jump into the water to swim away when she realises gojo was listening in on her conversations- but then she remembers she can js vanish away and so she does js tht— the queen of the underworld, and of escaping, hehe

also also: the reader is slightly jealous when she is talking of the shifty nymphs always sticking to gojo's side. [uraume identifies it; you think it is js your usual dislike to such frivolous things and ppl as flowers and nymphs etc.] [hades is emo imho 😊]

▸ masterlist

[swift-creates]

category: Gen

fandom: Batfamily

characters and relationships: Dick Grayson and Jason Todd - platonic, some batfamily

warnings: blood and injury, fight scene, mention of gun and knives, minor swearing, a bit of unhealthy thought processes but mostly bc he’s dazed and out of it, present tense

Summary:

@ailesswhumptober Day 31: Panic attack, facing a phobia, “You need to get out of here!”

Jason is injured during a battle, but Dick can’t protect him forever.

notes: fucked around and wrote a fic based on this drawing by @ashrayus as one does (I didn’t really know how to end it so just. have this lol) (also sorry if it’s OOC)

—

Dick has always been scared for Jason. That’s his baby brother, his Little Wing, the shadow at his back. Save for the broken time where he’d abruptly become an only child, Jason has always been there, and Dick has come to expect he always will be. Jason is older now — he’s the Red Hood, Gotham’s most feared crime lord, and is capable of single-handedly taking down some of the worst rogues in the gallery — but he will always be Dick’s little brother. Dick rarely has reason to be scared for Jason these days. 

Except for the times when he watches Jason stumble and finally fall to seemingly endless hordes of enemies, bleeding from a bullet to the gut. 

“JASON!” All strategy and codenames get thrown out the window, and he fights his way to his little brother, throwing a smoke bomb for cover and pulling him to safety. “Jay, look at me.”

“Ngh… Don’t need you to save me, Big Bird.” Jason tries to glare at him, but the effect is somewhat dampened by the way he doubles over in pain and leans into Dick’s arms. “Y-You need to get out of here.”

“Yes you do, and I’m not leaving you behind, dipshit.” He half-supports, half-carries Jason out of the alley, ignoring the strangled sound of pain he makes (or attempting to, anyway). He leaves the fight behind, and keeps going until the distance is between them is enough for him to feel comfortable setting Jason down against a wall. 

Jason’s black-and-white curls stand in stark contrast to the grimy grey-red as he grimaces, head tipped back against the brick. Dick smooths them back from his face more by habit than anything else. “Shhh. You’ll be okay, Little Wing.”

He knows it’s bad because Jason doesn’t object to the nickname. 

“Jay?” His brother’s eyes are fluttering closed, and he’s slumped against the wall, the hand held over his wound starting to loosen. Dick clamps one of his own in place of it, swearing. “Jay, if you die again without paying back the ten bucks you owe me I’ll resurrect you just to kill you myself.”

“Mmh…” is the only reply, and Dick can feel him slipping away — not again not again not again God please — despite every attempt to rouse him. Making this situation even worse is the slowly increasing volume of the mob catching up to them. He grabs a roll of gauze from his belt and quickly wraps Jason’s torso with it, then stands with both escrima sticks in his hands. 

There’s blood leaking from a cut on his cheek, and he’s pretty sure his nose is broken, but he’ll die before he lets them hurt Jason again. 

They come on in a rush, almost falling over each other in their attempt to reach two weakened vigilantes. He sweeps one aside, slams another into a wall, hits the first one with a stick and lets him fall to the ground, unconscious. The movements become instinct, strategy turning to survival, as they flood the alley, reaching to him, past him, their guns and their knives all hungry for blood. He barely dodges one bullet, feels another graze his thigh when he turns to swipe at a girl with white-blonde hair and a switchblade in her hand. He can’t go on like this forever. He has to. 

He’s reeling from a hit to the side of his head, about to lose his balance, when white smoke rises around them. Dick almost collapses to his knees in relief, but he makes himself stumble back to stand over Jason as familiar figures drop from the shadows and create a circle of safety in the chaos. 

“He’s here,” he whispers to Jason. “You’re safe now.” He curls up next to his brother, exhausted and bleeding, and pulls him close. 

Of course, that’s when a man with a gun decides to level it straight at Dick’s forehead. 

He grips Jason tight and glares at the guy, one stick left in his hand, trying to remember where he’d dropped the other one sometime during the fight. When, not if, the guy shoots, he’ll twist to shield Jason with his body, just in case his aim is wildly off. One bullet each seems to be fair. 

His finger tightens on the trigger, and Dick tenses, ready to move. 

Then a black shape slams into the man, sending the bullet careening into the darkness and the guy careening into the ground. Few have seen the Batman’s fury unleashed, and even fewer experienced it, but this unlucky sap will most likely remember this for the rest of his miserable life. He’s tossed to the side like a rag, and B makes a beeline for his boys. 

“Dick. Jason.” His hands search for injuries even as his eyes flick anxiously up and down them, the only outward sign of his worry. 

Dick melts gratefully into the embrace. “We’re okay. Barely.” All he wants to do is sink to the ground and be cuddled and carried back to the Batcave, but he can’t rest yet. “Jason — he got hurt. Bullet wound. I bandaged it, but…” 

“We’ll get him home.” Bruce kneels by Jason’s side, gently calling his name, but there’s no response. So what does Bruce do? Obviously he goes and scoops up all two hundred pounds of Jason into his arms and carries him away to the Batmobile like he weighs no more than Damian. Cass appears out of nowhere to support Dick, and he leans against his sister with a grateful smile. 

[annawayne]

Hi Anna!! I hope you're having a wonderful day!!! And that you have been well 🩷 I wanted to ask you about what your favorite AOT alternate universe is! And if you were to make your own, how would you write it? Sending you hugs!!

Oh, Stella, hello-hello!

Thank you so much for asking, and I had so much fun while answering and thinking about it, so I might accidentally wrote an outline for a fic...

You know, I really love canon-compliant and canon-divergent scenarios, but I have a very weak spot against the historical AUs or mythology AUs. In general, I really love AUs which take canon and transform into AU, without changing the main topic/character arcs too much, but adapting it into the new scneario. And I really love Medieval AU, Ancient Greece AU, 1900-1920's AU, but now, I want to stop on another AU which was sitting in my head for a while, and with your ask, I gave it more thought and structured all these ideas into something more proper, so here I present you -

Here, I want to make a quick disclaimer that I took as a base the whole period as a whole and in my AU, there's the fictional geography which is based on original AoT, but some events are inspired by real historical events and the whole vibe of the epoch. Plus, I focused on some general points of this plot without too much details and it's written more like the outline, rather than some fic (so sorry if it's not very good...)

Far away from home she never saw, Annie is raised by the man who is in slavery, among others people from the conquered lands - but there, in complete secret, they raise their children as Warriors - someone to give revenge for the King bloodline, who sent them there and who conquered their lands.

They worked from a very young age on the fields, and at night - they train, they are raised to be weapons and with the solo goal - to buy themselves freedom and then, to use for the killing. So when times comes, Bertholdt, Reiner and Annie are sent to Paradis Kingdom.

They know that the King is quite not sane - by age and illness he gained by various sexual connections, and he has three children: the oldest son, Erwin, twins Historia Armin, the youngest son. Erwin is an heir, a talented warrior and promised leader; meanwhile, Armin is much younger and not so strong, but his intelligence, bravery and the desire for knowledge is enormous. However, their father didn't really favor Armin, and always neglects him, sending him to battlefields, which are already meant to be lost. Erwin, on the contrary, recognizes Armin's talent and they are close; he, as an older brother, teaches him a lot and they like spending time together. Historia and Armin are close too, not only as twins but as allies: Historia isn't really loved by their father as she's a daughter and can't heir the throne, and by gossips. she has love affairs with one of her guardians, Ymir, which is also not approved by their father - but Armin always supports his sister and her lover, trying his best to cover Historia's missing for nights.

Annie, Reiner and Bert, when they arrive to Paradis Kingdom, they join the Warriors who didn't belong to any village, gathered only by desire of fight and war, the legendary order of Viking mercenaries. There, they meet Zeke, Pieck, Porco, Marcel, and many other people, who was informed of their arrival, and so starts the years of the battlefields. Endless, endless battlefields, full of blood to prepare themselves for the King killing.

Until one day they learn the news from their spies: Erwin, the heir, should be on the battlefield not so far away from their location, and they decide to capture him to manipulate the King, that will eventually lead to his death, but... Instead of Erwin, they find Armin and his army. Armin at the age of 17 is already an excellent strategist, however, his subordinates mocked him for being too merciful, kind and coming up with strategies that save lives, so commanders didn't obey his orders that led to almost his own capture. Annie, Reiner and Bert and their order used this situation, and they helped Armin to win, but... They caught him as a hostage. Not Erwin, but Armin is still an heir.

Firstly, there was an obvious tension, but Annie couldn't miss that Armin was different from what she imagined him to be, how... Royal should be. He is kind, smart, very attentive, and yet, he is manipulative and he never choose to opt to violence, only as a last resort when he could save someone important to him or when he realizes that there's no other choice. It's strange, Annie thinks, and she doesn't understand him. He is the first person in this cruel world who is so unconditionally kind - and yet, not without venom in him, and she couldn't just wrap up her mind how to understand him. She always thought she was nice at reading people. But with Armin, she realizes that she never was.

After some time, Armin and Annie start to speak with each other, and Annie hates that she starts craving these conversations. She hats that this boy should paint his hand - beautiful hand, maybe, more suitable for some crafter or painter - with blood. So when she hears Armin speaks with Marcel that he wants to train to become stronger and more capable in fight, Annie bursts in anger. At this moment, she was practicing with her daggers, and so she throws one of the daggers to the tree trunk, just a few inches away from Armin's face, cutting a few strands from his locks. She hopes it would scare him. She hops he would just step away and refuses to train to become a Viking. To become a Warrior.

She hopes.

But Armin looks directly at her, with his hazel eyes, so deep, like the autumn foliage in the sunset, and the determination in his gaze chokes her with the tight grip.

"Teach me.".

"Me? To teach you?" Annie snorts, trying her best to stay indifferent. "You're helpless. Don't even try."

"I know I am now," Armin nods, taking a step to her. "But with your help, I can become stronger."

"And? What benefit is it for me?"

"I'll teach you reading and writing. And I can also pay you. For you being my guard. When we come back to the capital, I can make you my guardian."

Annie looks at him, and she couldn't fight against his gaze. It's beneficial for her mission, isn't it? It is. And so-

She agrees.

Their training starts, they stay together, since she's now his guardian and his teacher. Armin struggles at first,, failing and failing miserable, but after every fall, he gets up with no complaints, the same determined fire in his irises, and... In one year, he really becomes stronger.

And they become closer. Annie learns about his twin-sister, how close they are, about Erwin, about their crazy father, about all the intrigues and horrors happening in the royal court. She learns that Armin loves to read, that his dreams - not to conquer lands but to see them, experience every single land with respect and admiration, that he never really wanted to be a King. She learns that he knows how to braid hair exactly thanks to Historia: she did it to him, and he did it for her, and now, he does it to Annie's hair too. She learns so many things about him, and she learns another thing, that braided hair by his hands looks so beautiful on her. So beautiful and she doesn't deserve this beauty.

One day, Armin cuts his hair, and Annie suddenly realizes that he grew up. And so she is, too.

And so grew up something in her heart she didn't know a name.

Reiner, Bert and other Warrior pressure her that she started losing her head and betraying them, but she always fight back., defending herself and always dismissing their accusations.

Until, one day, both she and Armin train on the cliff, the sea shimmers at the horizon with molten gold, and just at the very end, their bodies suddenly pressed so closed, caught between the daggers and their battle stances. Eye to eye, torso to torso, their jagged breathes wash each other with warm waves.

"Don't be so cocky," Annie says, her dagger stops inches away from his neck, . "If you think that you can win easily in the battlefield, someone will kill you faster that you can even imagine."

"I wouldn't be so sure," he whispers, and it sent shivers down her spine.

Confusion furrows her brows, and Armin nods down, somewhere to her abdomen. When she looks down, she sees Armin's dagger pointed right into her gut.

Something coils right in her abdomen - impression, surprise, pride and something else. Something she is afraid to name our loud.

"Not so bad for a dead man," Annie whispers, and instead, with the effortless maneuver of her hands, perfected by years and years of war, she flips him.

Armin falls on his back, right into the long grass, but instead of groaning or insults, he smiles, starting laughing.

"You're honestly amazing," he says and looks at her with so much joy and tenderness, and it just makes her blush intensely.

That day she realizes that she can't run away any more from her true feelings. She realizes that she really loves him. And it terrifies, and excites her at the same time.

Weeks later, their hands touch for the first time longer than a sudden brush, and decided to stay for a few minutes longer interwined. Months later, their first kiss happens. A few more - their first intimacy.

But time goes on, they're closer to the capital. And once they arrive in the capital, the King is not really happy to see Armin having his own subordinates. He feels that he's not safe anymore - and he plans to kill Armin after the celebration of his return.

Warriors plan to kill the King, some high-ranked vassals and King's advisors plan to kill Erwin because they see that Armin his more powerful army with him now, and King also has his own plans - none of the sides know what the other plan, so during the celebration, the total mess happens. Both the King and Erwin are killed: King when everything happens, he orders to kill Armin right away, and Annie protects him by killing the King; and Erwin - is killed by Zeke.

Armin becomes a King.

But since Annie killed the former King, she should be now executed, and it's Armin who should ordering since she killed the King in front of his vassals and subordinates. If he wouldn't do it - they wouldn't recognize him. She understands that she failed. She put her feelings first, and now, when she sees Armin in blood and with bloody crown, his eyes so terrified and so... Broken, she sees his heart broken in his gaze when she realizes that she was lying all this time, she just realized that she failed something that was more important than her mission.

She succeeded in her mission.

But she failed him.

"Since when... You... Started to look at me with these eyes, Armin?"

She mumbles, as the hands of soldiers dragged her away. Armin is devastated, but to save her life, he orders to sell her to slavery - he couldn't leave her with him, and he couldn't execute her either. He asks only for one condition - to find a farm where she can work with not so grave conditions.

Then, 4 years pass.

Armin was immediately dragged into wars and he won them, by his excellent mind and strategies. But all this time he was utterly depressed and totally alone, the weight of the crown and responsibility killing him bit by bit, and all this time he was searching for Annie - when he asked the farm of the slaves where he ordered to sell her, his vassals lied to him and told him that she died, not wanting to see her near the new King. Armin was devastated, but searched for her for 4 years, not leaving this hope that she was alive.

Until one day, they met again, on the random market place, when Armin was with his guardian Connie, eating a pie.

And so she was. Alive. And so beautiful, even with the stuffed cheeks and startled gaze, but for him, she was the most beautiful and strong woman he ever met.

And so... The new story begins. But, this is completely another story :D

[centralperkspoison]

I Can See You - G. Way

PAIRING: Gerard Way x Fem!Reader

WARNINGS: sexual references, a little fluffy.

SUMMARY: You and Gerard have known each other for years. When you finally confess to him, everything works out! But how do you keep it as a secret? (Based loosely on I Can See You by Taylor Swift)

WORD COUNT: 1.3k

OTHERS: me posting? whattttt?! this was highly inspired by the song I Can See You by Taylor Swift, so I recommend listening to that while you read. Also, I haven't posted a fic in like a year this is crazy. also!!! not my usual work, not that much fluff just more back story. idk i have wrote in a while so im sorry!

---

YOU KEPT EVERYTHING PROFESSIONAL. You and him only showed your true emotions behind closed doors. You'd brush past each other in the hallways most of the time ensuring to not let anyone catch on.

Of course, you and Gerard were friends to the public eye. You and him were the two lead singers of My Chemical Romance, but what happened behind closed doors stayed there.

You'd moved next door to the Way family when you were fairly young, quickly becoming friends with the two brothers despite the slight age differences; Mikey was three years older than you and Gerard was six years older, which is why in the beginning everything had to be quiet. But of course, you had kept your feelings for the nerdy older brother hidden since you were six, so that wouldn't be too hard.

When the band began recording for Bullets you had just turned eighteen and Gerard was almost twenty-five, which is when it first started.

-

"Why don't I understand basic song structure," You groaned. "You clearly have it down."

Gerard scoffed, "I do not have it down whatsoever, I just actually ask for input unlike someone who's stubborn as hell." He laughed. 

It was only the two of you on the bus, the rest of the guys were inside a restaurant buying breakfast while before you traveled four hours to only record half the album for Bullets.

"Here, bring it over so I can look at it." He said, sitting up on the couch on the bus. You slowly walked towards him, hoping he wouldn't realize who it was about. You silently hoped he couldn't tell, then sat next to him and handed him the lyrics you had written so far. He began analyzing them and handed them back to you.

"It's good, but the bridge should have more meaning. You've described this person in such a beautiful light, then the bridge is just happily ever after? Include some of the struggle in the relationship." You nod, beginning to write. He watches you closely from over your shoulder causing you to face the other way and lay down on him so he could get a better view. This was nothing unusual for you two, it was normal for you to lay on him or anyone else in the band.

You took his words into consideration, then started writing lyrics along the lines of 'If only he knew,' and 'I could see you being my addiction, you could see me as a secret mission.' along with some more context.

"Hey, (Y/N)?" He called, you could feel his heart speed up from your spot on his chest. "Yes, Gee?" You say, looking up at him. "Who is this about?" He asked quietly, playing with your long hair. You dropped your pencil and sat up, facing him. "Is that really important right now?" "I mean not really, I'm just a bit curious." He says with a slight smirk across his face. You just shrug and walk to where you were sitting previously to the whole song structure conversation. Once you sit down, he began speaking again.

"I mean of course the description sounds a little similar, short black hair, hazel eyes, crooked smile," He says, walking behind your chair and gripping it and looking down at you from over the back of the tall chair. "I would say Frank, but his hair doesn't exactly fall under that category anymore, and when you think about it, I'm the only one with short black hair now." He smirks. He already knew, but he was just trying to play around and have a little fun before he had to make his own scary confession.

"God, okay Gerard, the song is about you." You roll your eyes trying to make it come out as if you're not afraid to say it. "Wait, you're actually admitting it?" "Yes, I have a big fat crush on you, now can you please just turn me down already so I can get over it sooner." You sigh, and he walks around your chair so you two are facing each other now. 

"(Y/N), I'm not rejecting you," He smiles. "C'mere." He says, opening his arms for a hug, and you quickly throw yourself in his arms. You two linger in the hug for a while before you take a step back and look up at him. You two were so close your noses were touching. 

"May I?" He asks, moving his hand up so he's cupping your jaw. You lean into his touch and nod.

-

After you two established your feelings, your situationship turned into a relationship that ranged from sweet moments to insanely sexual ones, not that you had a problem with that, of course. It was just difficult keeping it from your best friends.

Eventually, fans began sniffing the two of you out. How you would always sit next to each other in interviews, when you were on stage you would always seem as if you were singing to him and he was singing to you, when they watched Life On The Murder Scene every time there was a video on the bus you'd have your legs sprawled out on top of his or you'd be laying on him, and even away from the bus he'd always send you looks.

You started seeing the fans reactions on Twitter in the two of your comment sections.

(Y/N)(Y/L/N): Day off with my boys! <3

mcrlover616: OMG R U AND GERARD DATING

frerard4li4e: Gerard belongs to Frank, girl. Back off.

bugmomma24356: You and Gerard are so cute ug! <3

After trying to cover up everything to the best of your abilities, nothing made them believe you, even your own band mates started thinking the two of you were together, so you two had to act more distant. 

No more laying on him, no more lingering hugs, and definitely no more making out on stage just to "make the crowd go wild". 

-

The two of you had to be entirely secret for almost a year now, and it was the first night of your new tour, Rise Against the Black Parade. 

Gerard brushes his shoulder against yours in the hallway while you two walk into the dressing room, shooting you a look. "Oh sorry, (Y/N)." He says quietly and slides his arm across your back before sitting two seats away from you in the dressing room. 

Makeup took a while, but you and Gerard were the last to finish. Once your artists left the room he sprung up to lock the door, and quickly met you in the middle of the room. 

He rested his hands on your hips and you hand your arms on the back of his neck, while he pressed his lips to yours aggressively. You parted from him for a moment, "Now don't go messing up our makeup," You smirked. "We can fix it ourselves." He grunts, picking you up and placing you on the counter.

The two of you were in there for a total of five minutes before someone started knocking on the dressing room door, causing you to jump like two teenagers caught by parents. "Hello? Who's in there, we need to change!" You hear Frank say from the other side of the door. The two of you quickly check your makeup to make sure it wasn't messed up, then you walked to the door to unlock it before turning to Gerard.

"You know, if stopped hiding... it wouldn't be the worst thing in the world." You said and he began to shake his head. "The age difference, (Y/N)." "It's six years, Gee. At least it's not like twenty or thirty like some other couples." You say, causing him to shrug. "I guess it's not the worst thing in the world." 

You walk over and unlock the door allowing Frank to come in with the costume cart. Once he realized it was the two of you he gasped. "You?" He said pointing to Gerard, "And you?" He said pointing to you. You turn to Gerard and tilt your head. "Yeah yeah, big deal." He said walking over to wrap an arm around your waist.  That night was one of your best shows yet. You two started showing affection on stage once again, you put your emotion back into your lyrics, and you even got a chance to preform the song you wrote for Gerard that started the whole relationship.

[the-s1lly-corner]

creepypastas of your choice being new parents (reader can be included or not, or the reader can BE the kid. either works)

Eyeless Jack, Slenderman, and Jeff as dads/dad figures

getting silly with it. last request in the inbox, might write some other stuff later today for myself but idk we'll see, admins feeling a little sleepy RAAAAAAH no real mentions of reader i think, just the characters being dads but there might be vague mentions of partners so you can imply that is reader. shrugs. i tend to write these notes before actually writing the post this was originally going to have laughing jack but then i got bummed out when i realized that jack would not make a good solo parent simply because hes too chaotic accidentally swapped from saying "the kid" to "you" midway through writing this but im too tired to fix it so uhuh im making it everyone elses problem/j

SLENDERMAN:

by default i think slenderman can be an okay dad and im purely basing this on the fact that i grew up on the 2010s era of the fandom where quotev quizzes and fics for the fandom were peak. i think in the beginning he would be a little lost, especially if hes going to be raising the kid alone. i mean hes a solitary creature that rarely connects with others, he knows knowing about raising a human child. and thats assuming the kid is even human. if he has a kid with a human reader, are they more human or more... creature..? are they a hybrid? how much of slendermans genetics carry over? can he even have children since admin personally thinks he was made by zalgo like all other demons in this timeline? many questions. protective and strict dad, makes sure the kid does their work and chores, but makes sure he doesnt raise a pushover... definitely hostile towards anyone who harasses the kid, be it bullying or generally just being a douchebag. i think if hes the sole parent he raises them in the woods and teaches them things himself. doesnt bother with putting the child through schooling, theyre a child of the woods now babey!!/hj

look at it this way the kid is really self sufficient and can survive in the wilderness for an extended period of time and they know how to kick butt, assuming they also grow up with his proxies. yeah.. thats going to be interesting... would they see them as uncles or as sibling or family friends? its anyones guess. bonus father figures!!

EYELESS JACK:

also does not know what hes doing. i think i wrote somewhere that jack would put the baby in a carrier and walk around with them in the woods. maybe even showing them different animals and plants even if he knows that the kid cant understand him. definitely a case where hes going to need someone else to help him, be it his partner if theyre still around, or someone else... naturally its going to be harder to find someone to help him if his partner is out of the picture for one reason or another. main reason because that jack is... oh you know, literal man eating demon who sometimes goes into blind feeding frenzies if he gets hungry enough + he tries to put off feeding for as long as possible because it literally means taking a life and he still has his humanity in there. not going to say it out right but i think you guys can put two and two together and understand why jack is wary about having a small child hanging around his cabin. also he wants the kid to be able to grow up around other people. its unlikely, since the other person is likely going to be another creepypasta character because any normal person would rat him out... but he might also want the kid to have a 'normal' upbringing. lots of feelings here for him. kind of like a tired dad, between juggling the child and the things going on with him is really going to do a number on him. giggling at the idea of him trying to get slender to help him esp since i hc they have weird territorial beef going on

JEFF THE KILLER:

actually has a decent grasp of how to treat them but thats because he had liu/was an older brother. the dynamic is less father child and more so older brother younger sibling. probably lets you have a fair amount of free reign; he doesnt really strike me as a strict guardian. probably forgets to pick you up from soccer practice/j ....actually wait no i can kind of see him actually doing that on accident. tries to make it up to you by giving you treats because he does kind of feel bad for leaving you behind. you remind him a lot of his brother. im still torn on whether or not liu is still alive in my silly au but imagine hes not and he kind of. tries to raise you good and treat you well to make up for everything that happened. jeff with some level of mental clarity after the height of everything hits me in a weird sad way i can quite describe. like dont get me wrong hes still the knife wielding dude hes usually written as, but hes a little.. just a tiny bit mellowed out. just a tad.. side note i fully blame the idea of jeff being remorseful over murdering liu from a fic that had a chokehold on me in middle school so oooo... you probably know/interact with ben through jeff since theyre good friends. jumping into my personal hc/au jeff carries ben around in a phone since bens usually confined to electronics and they grew up together. obviously jeff outgrows ben because. you know ghosts dont grow up. so imagine you start becoming best friends with ben and ben is just. SPILLING so much old stuff on jeff, mostly dumb stuff jeff did and him being a jackass. idk i just think thats funny. its like when you suddenly get dad lore but instead of getting it from your dad you get it from dads ghost best friend

[class1akids]

My emotions are all over the place about this latest chapter with the Todoroki Family.

1) Based on Pikalua’a translation I fell in love with the fact that Shoto responded to Toya’s answer with a childish voice of ‘Same’. Even the picture of Shoto in that panel made him look younger. It’s probably the first time Shoto looked to be the baby of the family. And the fact it was said to the oldest brother, the brother Shoto missed out on getting to know and play with, means a lot to me.

2) I wonder if anyone else in the family knew Touya’s favorite food was Soba. Specifically Natsuo who was extremely mad that he missed out on getting to know his younger brother and pointed out he didn’t even know his favorite food till just now.

3) enji needs to just stop talking. We don’t need any more apologies or empty promise see from that man, especially if he is not gonna praise his children for growing up into the amazing people they are despite the hellish childhood he put them in.

4) I wish Rei and Fuyumi talked more in this chapter. Enji took all their speaking space up, again why her needs to shut up. They should have something to say to Toya. I mean they had 13 very close years with him, compared to Natsuo’s 8/9. They should have some words of comfort or love to say to him during this time. Hell they should have words to say to Enji. Rei had so much to say to Enji in the hospital, she put so much blame upon her own shoulders for the family they created together yet she has nothing to say to Touya right now.

5) I love that Shoto took it upon himself to tell his parents he is fine on his own. NO ONE and I mean NO ONE in his family, seemed concerned about him or how he is handling the repercussions of being Dabi’s and Endeavors family member or the emotional turmoil of seeing his older brother, whi he saved, in a death chamber. He is 16yrs old. Natsuo has announced he wants nothing to do with Enji, Fuyumi announced she lost her job, and not one asked Shoto how you doing at HIGHSCHOOL!!! So I am happy he took it upon himself to say “I am fine, I have friends who can help me.” Yeah boy you go and make a found family with your friends. They at least have asked “are you ok?”.

7) this is more my emotions based off a MHA fanfic you wrote, where it was the tragic family. In the fic Shoto reflects that at no point in time would his family ever be happy if he was born within it. Because the only reason he was born was because his older siblings didn’t accomplish Enji’s goal. (And I know this is not the exact wording you used but this is the gist of what I remember from what was written). And let me say that moment in the story broke me down into tears because I don’t really think about that fact. And I feel like this chapter kinda continues that tragic family plot/trope. And it ties back to that amazing and beautiful panel of the Todoroki family minus Shoto. The family doesn’t think of Shoto the way they think of their other siblings/children. I am not saying they don’t recognize him as a Todoroki or a son or brother but they definitely don’t go out of their way to think about his happiness and his life and his future. And maybe it all comes back to the tragic family plot, that Shoto is the final product and cumulation of their family being broken and irreparable. So yes if the family was a happy healthy family he would not have been born. But because his family is toxic and dysfunctional he was the final product born into it. (Please don’t think me saying this is me blaming Shoto for that toxic and broken family, I am just saying I feel so sad for him because he loves his family so much, with the exception of friggen Enji, and yet he has no place in the happy family portrait).

Yes he looks so much like a baby. I also loved that info that he's being just in baby of the family mode. It ties back also to how Touya saw him as a child in Ch 390.

I wonder that too. It seems like something someone eventually say to Shouto. Or maybe everyone knew, but it's just another heartbreaking detail how isolated Shouto was and how right Touya was about being buried and left behind.

It seems like he did acknowledge in a small way what Shoto did, even if he doesn't seem particularly grateful.

I feel like maybe Enji and Rei don't feel entitled to take pride in the kids who became what they are not because but despite the parenting and home environment.

4. Yes - it stood out to everyone. This chapter is of course about Touya and then the family "final". But Rei gets cut off by Endeavor and by the guard too. And after that, she says nothing to the kids. I guess it's implied that they stay in touch with her but they deserved a little scene - if nothing else, a small touch.

5. Yeah, seriously. It was so weird. But on the other hand it makes me feel like Shoto is not afraid to take up space anymore and is willing to just say what he wants and remind people not to forget about him. Like the first time he did that in the Endeavor internship where Endeavor asked Deku and Bakugou about their goals but not Shouto.

6. Yeah, he was born for the wrong reasons and would not exist in a healthy, happy timeline. Even more amazing that he's able to affirm for himself his own reasons and say that "your reasons don't define who I am or who I will be - only mine do." Like Shouto has such incredible mental fortitude and resilience.

[peeves-gurl]

Fic based on this request!!

Here we go!! This was the first time I got a request, and the first time I wrote a fic based on a request, so I hope you like it!!

Warnings: My weird imagination, fluff, family argument, use of Y/N, idiot Ron

“You look beautiful Ronnie!” The twins said in unison as they walked into the common room.

The place was nearly empty, except for a few first and second year students, who weren’t yet allowed to go to Hogsmeade on weekends. The twins, on the other hand, had been banned from going to Hogsmeade for a month as a punishment from their mother for the a recent prank that McGonagall had written to her about.

“That’s literally not funny,” Ron moaned, covered in tiny porcupine quills that he grew after eating a cookie his older brothers offered him.

“We think it’s hilarious,” Fred smirked back.

“Bloody comical,” George supported.

“Fuck you! You’ve always used me as some kind of lab rat for your experiments.” Ron said, his temper rising.

“It’s because you didn’t let us use good old Wormtail,” Fred mocked.

“Oh shut the hell up George! Get this rubbish off me, and keep your worthless experiments limited to yourself.” Ron shouted, turning a few heads in his direction as everyone in the common room became interested in this fight. “Do you think it’s funny, troubling others for your entertainment? You’ve always done this to me, right since I was a baby!”

“No we haven’t. And I’m George, not him.” George corrected. “We only got into pranking after we turned seven.”

“C’mon mate, at least own up! You were the one who turned my Teddy Bear into a spider when I was three, weren’t you?”

“Are you actually still mad over that?” Fred asked amusedly.

“I’m actually mad over the audacity that you have, to think you’ll make a living out of this.” He said, pointing to the still growing quills. “I’m bloody sure you’ll end up as nothing, probably having to marry rich girls like Y/N to have a decent life!”

“Stay within your limits Ronald.” Fred scolded, and George quickly stepped in between his brothers to put an end the argument.

“Move, Fred, or George, whichever one you are!” Ron shouted, trying to shove George out of the way.

“What do you mean ‘whichever one’? Can you actually not tell the difference between your own brothers?” George said, immediately forgetting that he was trying to maintain peace.

“How does that matter? You’re both exactly the same, pathetic and useless.” Ron rolled his eyes. “Now get these stupid quills off me before I stab you with them.”

“No,” George said angrily.

“No?” Ron repeated.

“No. Not until you apologize for what you said about my girlfriend,” Fred agreed.

“I will not, because it’s true.” Ron said back.

Fred pushed George out of the way, angrily stepping up in front of his younger brother, towering over him. Unbeknownst to the three of them, Y/N had walked into the common room, having just returned to the castle from Hogsmeade. She paused in her steps, shocked to see the Weasleys fighting in this way.

“Do you know how much it hurts us to realise that our own family can’t tell us apart? None of you lot, not even Mum and Dad know us as anything other than ‘the twins’.” Fred shouted, and Y/N’s heart broke when his voice cracked with emotion.

“Y/N is our best friend Ron,” George said. “She’s the only one who’s ever been able tell us apart. You don’t know what your saying when you tell us Fred’s with her for the money. We love her because she makes us feel like we’re individuals, like we have a personality outside of just being twins.”

Before things could get worse, Y/N walked up to the boys, intending to end the debate. She marched up to them quickly, engulfing Fred in a hug, and she could feel the anger ebb out his body as his shoulders relaxed. She reached up to slightly peck his lips, before stepping away to hand a bag of his favourite sweets from Honeydukes.

She moved towards George next, giving him a little squeeze and handing his bag of sweets to him.

“Ron,” she said calmly yet strictly, finally turning her attention to the younger Weasley, “It’s really not nice of you to not be able to tell your brothers apart.”

“It doesn’t matter, love. Let’s go outside.” Fred insisted.

“Just give me a minute Freddie.” She said, continuing to look at Ron, who was now beginning to get nervous.

“Can you guess the sweets in those bags, by any chance?” She asked.

“Treacle Tart, Chocolate Frogs and Pumpkin pie.” Ron replied, slightly more tensed than before.

“Yes, but whose bag has which ones?’ she asked again.

“I don’t know,” Ron said meekly.

“I’ll give you another chance, Ron. Everyone knows these two love Purple and Orange,” she said, pointing to the bright ‘Weasleys Wizard Wheezes’ logo on a flyer lying in the common room. “But do you know who added which one?”

“No,” Ron said again, his ears turning red with embarassment, and there were a few snickers passed around the others in the room.

“Do you lot not have homework?” she said, addressing a younger students, who immediately ran off at being addressed by a prefect. “You don’t know anything about them individually, do you?” she asked, turning her attention back to the guilty Weasley boy in front of her.

“I’m really sorry,” he said softly, and his voice did indicate the truth behind those words.

“You should be,” Fred said finally.

With a quick swish of her wand, Y/N made the quills disappear, and began to lead the twins outside the common room.

“I’m sorry,” Ron repeated, this time to his brothers, “I should have made an effort to know you both better.”

“I suppose it’s not too late,” George said, giving Ron a small smile.

“And don’t you dare talk shit about my girlfriend again.” Fred warned.

“I won’t, sorry!” Ron smiled back, and Y/N quickly dug out a bunch of chocolate frogs from her pocket for him.

They walked out of the common room together, before George bid them goodbye and headed off in the opposite direction to look for Angelina.

“Thanks love,” Fred whispered, placing a quick peck onto her lips. “I really appreciate you, have I ever told you?”

“Yes, but keep going.” She whispered back, stealing another kiss, and it felt much better when she finally felt him smile against her lips.

[marcskywalker]

merthur au/prompts I can't stop thinking about (@ fic writers)

arthur being magic positive and hiding it from merlin. I spoke more about it here and @neupulman wrote this amazing fic based on it but omg this idea lives in my head RENT FUCKING FREE and I'd love as many fics written on it as possible

merlin being cursed (or wtv) and temporarily loses his magic. He grows insanely controlling of arthur cause he feels like he can no longer protect arthur from danger if he doesn't have magic and is constantly trying is order him around. no, you're not allowed to go there, no you can't say that, no you're not allowed to accept food from him. and arthur is just ?????? tf is wrong with my best friend?? but doesn't read much into it because it's merlin and merlin's always been a little weird and bossy. merlin keeps getting into so much more trouble (cause again, his usual way of staying out of trouble is magic) so arthur's put in position to protect him more often and both of them are ???????? "why THE FUCK ARE you putting yourself in danger for me??" and "WHY ARE YOU getting into so much trouble??" until they figure out that "oh you're in love with me and can't bare to see any harm come to me" and "oh you have magic and someone already hurt you by taking it away"

Arthur meeting Merlin's family for the first time and being accepted. Idk how clear I can make this but I hate Arthur's family and how is he is treated by them (except you ygraine, you're dead and lovely) so ya someone give that boy loving affirmations

One of them is brainwashed/mind controlled/possessed and beats the shit out of the other person who refuses to fight back. I LOVE this trope. It slaps all the time. Look at destiel. Look at stucky. ALL THE TIME

another au that I've spoke about before AND I'LL SPEAK ABOUT IT AGAIN: I took that scene where Arthur says "I'll give up my crown just see her smile again" or something like that about morgana, and ran with it. There is only so many assassination attempts a brother can go through before he wilts and does another to have his sister back. In Arthur's case: he willingly hands over the throne for a chance at having a chance at his pesty, loving, older sister (I AM A YOUNGER BROTHER ARTHUR TRUTHER) look at him with something other than endless hate. what I Love about this prompt is that it could go so so many different ways. @mobycotton was lovely enough to write this amazing fic for me that I LOVED. In my head, Arthur is really shaken up by another one of Morgana's attempts at killing him. He doesn't know what's saved him and at this point he wishes whatever it is would stop. He goes down a spiral thinking of his family; the mother that he killed, the father that he let down, the uncle he betrayed and the sister he never deserved. What good could he be for Camelot when he wasn't even good enough for his flesh and blood. So he announces his truce; gives it over to morgana and leaves Camelot and everyone he knows behind. The knights and merlin have to eventually hunt him down and convince him otherwise (and he meets random people along the way who are stans of King Arthur just like me and he gets some sort of self esteem back)

Protective BAMF merlin. Basically merlin overhears someone talking shit about his prince and starts a fist fight. Arthur finds out

Mid s1 merthur where Arthur knows he's in love with Merlin and he shoves it DEEP inside, sticks to pining after his manservant like the pathetic (lovingly) puppy he is. All Merlin knows is that, for whatever reason, he would rather eat his own feet than let anything happen to Arthur. Which is why when brave, stupid arthur walks towards a stranger light source in the forest; he follows without hesitation, only to see...... arthur and himself snogging against a tree? Basically a pining, repressed prince Arthur and Merlin I don't know what this weird feeling in my tummy when I see him is Emrys accidentally walks through a portal into an alternatively universe where they know how to communicate well and have been disgustingly in love. The four of them have to work together to get Arthur and Merlin back where they belong.

Merlin makes a deal with his king cenred: for protection of his village, he will infiltrate Camelot's castle and bring them down. He just wishes someone had told him that prince charming of Camelot would make him fall in love with his pouty lips and gooey eyes. I don't know if yáll have noticed this but Arthur pouts A LOT. I can't take him seriously smh

[nights-flying-fox]

It's Not Pain (It's Applause)

So!! I learned today is one of my fav albums' anniversary, and of course i had to write something quickly based on a song in the album!! I present you this Dimension Hopper Leo AU fic, which is just Hop looking through his adventures and thinking at late night hours. I didn't check it for any mistakes, so i hope everything is correct haha!! The song that the fic is heavily inspired is "Battle Cries" by The Amazing Devil :]

(Also Null belongs to @noxvee6 and Twin-Sync AU belongs to @little-banjo-frog ^^ )

Tagging @tmntaucompetition because it is mentioned here too, even if not very detailed hehe

《 words and ao3 link will be added later, I don't think there are anything that needs warning, but if there is please tell me so I can add!!》

☆ ☆ ☆

 He had never thought he would see an older version himself from an outside view, let alone himself. But fate had surprised him. Perhaps it wasn't fate at all, but his choices.

 Turning the pages of the notebook he wrote his discoveries in, he sighed. He looked at the pictures of Neon. He was one of the future versions of himself that he had met. He had ended up being a great friend to him, teaching him some basics. He smiled at the picture of him being busy as a leader. Neon had given him hope, maybe one day he could be like him. He was afraid of the possibility and the responsibility, but those were just a few details next to many good possibilities. 

 He still regretted not asking him some things, but who knows, maybe one day he would. And maybe one day he could annoy the heck out of him, tell him he met a Leo with hair, pointing out his lies. (He was aware he could never know about that possibility, but it was worth teasing the old man.)

He also was one of the people who had proven he wasn't alone. When alone, at night he thought about how without his family he wouldn't go far, he would remember him just like others. He would answer the question of who would save him if he fell (but could they save him when he fell in the deepest part of it all, when he would accept he wouldn't be able to go back home?).

 Leo shook his head. He didn't want to think of any possibilities about the future. He had found a moment of relaxation, a calm hour. Who would've known it would be so hard to rest while visiting almost every timeline that exists? Somehow, trouble never stopped finding them. Make it a villain, a plot twist, or a war. There always was something to do, even if he didn't belong. Even if he had his own war to win, a home to reach.

 He turned the page, humming at the image of the four turtles who had recently discovered they were a family. Honestly, they  must've been idiots to not notice they were related. Or maybe it felt like that to him because these faces belonged to his family as well. Whatever, he was happy to have met them and to know fate had reunited them. They had a lot to catch up to, just as Leo would when he would reunite with his family. 

 Turning pages he came across the picture of younger Big Mama and Lou Jitsu. He cringed, remembering the way he ended up in the past. They sure had an interesting love story, but it definitely was not Leo's cup of tea. 

 He turned the page quickly. After a short while he ended up seeing the grumpiest Leo in the universe. Null's big frown was visible in the picture. His smile returned, big and genuine. Who would know a version of you who wanted you dead would end up being as close to you as your real family? Leo hoped to see him soon, tease him by calling him his big brother. He was sure Null didn't mind, but the guy would do the favor of rolling his eyes and going along with it. He was proud to know him, seeing how he grew to be a better person. He hoped he was proud to know Leo as well.

 And then there were the pages dedicated to the competition he had found himself in. Various alternative versions of his family were all over the pages. He wasn't even sure if he knew all of them. He still grinned, it was fun. The other Leo and Donnie– they were team Twin-Sync–  had become great friends of his, and multiple pictures of them together decorated a single page. He had also gained a new fear towards mushrooms, and had found a new fun game to play. Who would know Muppets could be so bloodthirsty? Game nights were wild…

 He closed it and sighed, so many memories. So many dimensions and timelines. He was happy for all of them. Everything he had learned, everything that helped him become someone better. Everyone he had met and knew and helped. Every time he hopped somewhere new, it felt like restarting a new work of art– at least a Mikey had used that metaphor once he explained to him his adventures. And so many times he was told to hop away once he could, but so many times Leo refused. He couldn't stand to see his family in danger (again). And no matter the pain, it was worth it. Everything was worth for any version of his family. With them he felt like he could summon the Gods and the stars. Heck, he even felt like they were Gods. (He pushed back the memory of an older self of his saying that they were just kids.)

 And there were times he had trouble with those versions. Some that didn't trust him, and some that he had to not trust. There were bitter moments, but there were good ones too. (He swallowed down the pain of the words he had heard from some. The way some wield them as if he was an enemy.) They tried to get rid of him, sometimes. They must've forgotten Leo was stubborn. They could say goodbye, but he won't.

 Leo took a deep breath. It was crazy how he had ended up here. Everywhere. Whatever. It was as if he was walking in the darkness searching for light, but the darkness grew. (And he was afraid he was sinking so deep it was too late.) But he wouldn't give up (even if everything felt like going against him). He wouldn't turn his nights into them, especially when he was about to hop again. 

 Maybe one day he would do everything. Enjoy the calm, or show his skills in a fight. Maybe he would make a season finale, find the right portal. The smiles of others that he reflected would be truly his family's. (And no longer his mask would hide the tears.) Instead of staying, he'd keep hopping as much as he would keep hoping. (He would hide his fears with every new beginning.)

 And he would take a sigh. (And the battle cries in his mind would be buried deep.)

 And every time, it will be worth it for them. It can't hurt him if he'd have people he loved with him.

 (He wouldn't scream. Maybe he was at the end of all the things. It wasn't the time to ask himself how he was.) As long as he believed, he was okay. He was fine.

 Maybe tomorrow was the day. And finally, maybe everything would be over.

[normspellsman]

Deja Vu

part one | part two

pairing: lo’ak x fem!tawkami!reader

genre: angst

word count: 2k+

warning(s): sibling death, mention of fatal wound, & mentions of violence

word bank: sempul — father, tsmukan — brother, tsmuke — sister, kehe — no, yawntu — beloved, eywa/great mother — goddess deity the na’vi believe in, & oel ngati kameie — i see you

note: another writer had posted something similar to this way before i did (except w/ neteyam i think) & i was inspired to create something similar. if you know their user, please comment it so i can give them the proper inspiration creds! kelu is your brother in this fic. i wrote this within an hour and a half so it might be shitty even if i proofread it twice lol.

Fire and ash was the only thing you could see. Soot covering your azure skin as you mindlessly walked around your beloved burning home. Nearly everything that you grew up around and knew was halfway burned to the ground. Nothing but burnt stumps left behind.

The moments that led to your current situation was of the Sky Peoples making. 

They had tracked down the Sullys from their home clan, ambushing yours, burning and slaughtering everything and everyone in sight.

Your Sempul had ordered you to get the remaining children in sight to safety and away from your clan's Home Tree. Everything after that was a blur. You had gotten the children away to safety, running back to aid your Sempul in fighting against the evil that was invading your home. But only found fire and ash in the place where you last seen your Sempul. A million dreadful thoughts clouded your mind as you desperately looked and shouted for your beloved family.

It wasn’t until you saw the familiar armband of your only brother that seized you in your steps and caused your heart to fall into the pit of your stomach.

“Tsmukan…?” You called out, frozen in your spot, watching if the body in front of you shifted or made any movement. Please, Great Mother, please, you thought.

A barely audible groan reached your ears, causing your feet to move faster than your thoughts, gathering your little brother in your arms as you gently clutched him to your chest.

“Kelu,” you breathed out, wiping away the soot from his beautiful azure skin. Your heart began to ache as the seconds passed by and nothing came from his lips.

“Tsmuke,” Kelu responded, moving half an inch closer to your chest, craving your body's warmth as his rapidly disappeared, “Don’t cry”.

You didn’t even realize tears began to fall from your waterline, dryly chuckling at his response, stroking underneath your brother's cheekbone in comfort, for the both of you.

Kelu had a tendency to say that whenever he could see that you were visibly upset because if you cried, so did he. He was always an emotional child growing up and seeing his older sister upset and cry made him upset and cry as well. He cares for you so much. More than you would ever get to know.

“I’m sorry, tsmukan, I can’t help it,” you replied, refusing to look at the wound at the base of your brother's ribcage, knowing that if you did you’d only sob harder.

“I love you,” Kelu whispered, using the last of his strength to put his own hand over yours that gently laid on his cheek, “Do not be sad. I will always be with you,”. His hand moved from your cheek to your the left of your chest, right above your heart.

That phrase was the last thing you expected your brother's last words to be. In fact, you never thought that your brother's last words would be directed to you. You’d hope that by the time his time came, you’d be long gone by then, waiting in the afterlife with open arms to welcome him.

You let out a choked sob as he finally relaxed into your grasp and fell limp against it, his eyes slightly glazing over as they remained on your face.

“Kehe,” you choked out, beginning to rock back and forth, “Kelu! Please!”.

You shook him a couple of times, trying to rouse him so you’d have some more time with him. But he didn’t stir.

Silence had spread over multiple beats, the sounds of crackling fire and distant sobs being the only source of noise that echoed throughout the forest.

The realization and acceptance that your only brother had passed away in your arms had settled itself into your brain and chest, making your, unfortunately, still beating heart ache from grief.

Kelu was only thirteen years old when he passed, barely experienced life. He hadn’t even completed his Iknimya, only starting it months ago.

You brought your deceased brother closer to your chest and kissed his ashened hair before placing your forehead onto his cold one. 

You held so much love for your brother that you carved a special piece into your heart to harbor it. It had been immediately filled the day he was born, when you had held him in your arms and he had gripped his tiny hand around your forefinger. You promised to protect and love him no matter what from that day forward. But it looked like you had broken that promise, even if it was out of your control.

Sobs wracked your entire body as you rocked back and forth on your knees in order to comfort yourself. You had a tight grip on your deceased brother as you did so, afraid that if you let go, the ground was going to open up and swallow his body whole, Eywa taking him back into her grasp.

“(Y/N)!” a familiar deep voice called out, anxiety laced inside their voice.

Every fiber in your being stilled at the voice. You knew who it was and you didn’t want to see him. The one who was responsible for this grief. The death of your brother. The death of some of your clanspeople. The death of your once beating heart. And, still, the one that you loved.

“Go away,” you demanded, tightening your hold on your brother further, continuing your previous actions of rocking back and forth gently.

“Yawntu,” he softly said, kneeling down beside you, placing his five fingered hand onto your shoulder.

“Kehe! No, Lo’ak. Go away!” you hissed out, whipping your head towards the boy next to you, baring your sharp fangs at the teen. “This is all your fault!” You added on, glaring at him.

A flash of hurt came across Lo’ak’s face, slightly frowning at your words and actions. “My love, I’m sorry. So sorry,” he softly said, knowing who limply laid in your protective hold.

He loved watching you interact with Kelu. It reminded him a lot of himself and Tuk in some ways. Albeit you and Kelu not having a significant age gap, he still saw him and his sister in the two of you. He always insisted on tagging along wherever you went, pouting and pleading when you refused. Kelu also talked highly of you to his friends, Lo’ak catching him in the act many times. His heart always swelled in size whenever he saw you interact with Kelu. It made him wonder if you’d be as sweet, as caring, and as loving to your children as you were with your younger brother.

“I’m so sorry,” he repeated, desperately trying to meet your gaze.

When everything started happening and the Sky People began attacking, Lo’ak immediately began looking for you before doing anything else. He was so worried that you’d be amongst the many of the deceased bodies that he passed while looking for you, that he turned every single one around to make sure it wasn’t you. Whispering prayers to the Great Mother that she would lead him to you. Alive.

“No! You and your family have done enough,” you shouted, pushing him away as you ripped one of your arms from around your brother's body to do so. “You should’ve never came here!” you continued, refusing to meet Lo’ak’s gaze. You knew that it wasn’t exactly Lo’ak or his family’s fault, but you needed someone to blame. Someone to be mad at. His family had seeked refuge within your clan, ultimately leading to the events that occurred today. Their presence led them here. Their presence is what killed your brother.

Lo’ak had felt stones begin to gather within his heart. He felt heavy at your words. He knew to some degree that they might be true. He and his family had targets on their backs ever since Quaritch had returned. And he knew that you were grieving and in pain and that you didn’t fully mean the words that you said. You needed an outlet to direct your anger to and Lo’ak would happily be that outlet if that meant you were still breathing and safe and sound. Even if it meant you resented him forever for what was done to your clan this day.

He tried to comfort you, attempting to put his hand on your cheek but you only brushed it off, looking back to Kelu and tucking the loose strands of his braids back.

He looked so peaceful like this. Like he wasn’t a child that was born into a world that only knew war and its aftereffects. Like he was a baby once again and soundly slept without a care in the world.

“This is your fault,” you repeated, ears pressing back against your skull, “all your fault”.

More stones gathered in Lo’ak’s heart as those words slipped past your lips. He felt guilty at your confession. He loved you with his whole heart and felt responsible for bringing this kind of grief into your life. He vowed to protect you from the cruelness of the Sky Demons, failing at the one job he gave himself.

Lo’ak brought his hand up to your warm and damp cheek, softly rubbing away at the soot that covered nearly the entirety of your face.

You tried your best to not melt into his soft hold, but you didn’t have the energy in you to push his hand off. So, you allowed his hand to continue its gentle grip on your face.

You felt so tired. You just wanted all the suffering to stop. You wanted your brother back. You wanted the fire to stop burning your home. You wanted your heart to start beating again.

“Lo’ak!” a deeper voice called, causing Lo’ak to retreat his gaze from your slouched frame to his enclosing Father, “Lo’ak, we have to go.”.

Jake’s words pulled you out from your trance, head whipping up to look at your lover's Father, a new found anger spreading throughout your body.

It was as if Jake could sense your anger and hostility towards the man, stopping in his tracks as he gulped the saliva in his mouth, shaking. He could’ve swore that he saw your amber hues turn into slits as they landed on his frame. A sense of deja vu flooded Jake as he stared at your position and his son's desperate look. He knew what had happened and found himself feeling bad for you.

“Go,” you barked out, finally letting go of your brother and hauling Lo’ak up in a bruising grip, “Go! Leave here! Never come back!”.

“(Y/N), please,” Lo’ak whispered. “I’m sorry. Oel ngati kameie. Let me help you,” he pleaded.

You only shook your head, intricate beaded braids whacking Lo’ak in the face, causing him to stagger back a bit. “Go! Leave! Don’t not come back here,” you hissed, pushing at his lean chest, “You all have done enough.”.

You turned your back on him after your yelling, crouching back down to gather Kelu into your arms once again. You wailed in agony as you laid your cheek on his forehead, squeezing himself into you as if he was your lifeline.

Your words were like daggers to his heart, causing it to bleed out from within his chest. All he wanted to do was drag you into his warm embrace and comfort you. He wished he would transfer your pain to him so you wouldn’t have to suffer and live with it everyday.

Jake Sully had decided to seek refuge within the Tawkami clan. Their withdrawn and peaceful nature allowed him and his family to stay as long as they needed. He had chosen the peaceful lorekeepers due to their convenient placement deep within the forest. They were only hard to find if you didn't know the way, something that eased Jake’s thoughts regarding Quaritch finding them. He had been wrong it seems. Because Quaritch still found him. He’d find him no matter where he went. Jake was foolish to think otherwise as well as drag another clan into avoidable and unnecessary violence. He was the reason many Tawkami died that day. He was the reason for the destruction of their beloved home. He was the reason for your beloved brother's death. It all gave him deja vu as he thought about it, seeing himself in his son and his wife in you.

“Son,” Jake called out, gently grabbing his son's hand as he urged him to follow him, “We need to go. Now.”.

Lo’ak didn’t want to leave. Didn’t want to leave you. He knew you needed support during this time and wanted to offer you that crutch to lean on. But the pleading voice of his Father and your cold shoulder had pulled him from his position by your side to by his Father, following after him as he walked further and further away from your grieving figure.

Just before Lo’ak completely left you in your saddened state, he turned back around to look at you one last time. As his eyes danced around your body, he silently promised to himself and the Great Mother that he’d get your revenge. No matter what it took.

[a-gil-rebel]

People have been leaving some really nice comments on my Reverse Portal AU X C!GF fic "Wrong Twin" on AO3, so I wanted to share some of my favorite scenes I wrote in chapter 1!

"Mabel!" Dipper scolded, "Sorry Mason, I didn't mean to." Mason just laughed, waving away puffs of flour and rolling up his left sleeve to get the flour away from his hands.

"No worries, I can change later." Dipper stared at his arm, and couldn't help but blurt out.

"Is that the telescopium constellation??" Mason jumped a bit before looking down at his arm and laughing.

"Oh right- yeah, I started getting more constellations appearing when I hit puberty, so that might be something you can look forward to. Theyre all down my left arm for now, though I'm sure more will show up later."

"That's so cool!" Dipper flapped his hands and Mason laughed.

"Yeah, scared the hell out of our parents at first but, just more Pines Family weirdness. Honestly, I'm glad I got to keep the Big Dipper in the end, I guess facial reconstruction on a child is pricier than just removing the extra fingers."

Mason jumped at crash that followed, everyone turning quickly to Ford, who had the remains of a coffee mug at his feet.

"Wh...what did you just say?"

Mason blinked, and even Mabel looked confused. "The... wait, were you two born without polydactyl hands?" He asked Dipper, who was looking at him like he grew and extra head.

"I mean, in our family Ford is the only one with six fingers." Mason shook his head a bit in disbelief.

"Thats.... huh. I mean it is a dominant trait but I'm not too surprised you don't have it."

"What do you mean, removing them?" Ford almost demanded, and Mason and Mabel came over to show him his left hand, and her right, where along the pinky on each hand, there was a small surgical scar from the base of the knuckle to the wrist.

"We didn't really find out we even had them until we were older and Stanley found out what had happened." Mason shrugged as Ford looked over their hands.

"He tore mom and dad a new one that night. It explained why there were no baby pictures of us till we were almost a year old." Mabel added.

"Woah woah, wait. So you two were both born with six fingers, and your parents cut them off!?" Dipper exclaimed. Mason scratched his neck with his free hand.

"Were they... double jointed? Conjoined?" Ford asked, still looking down at their hands. Mason frowned.

"No... they were healthy, just like yours. Our parents just saw a flaw, I'm not even sure they knew you well enough to know you had six fingers too.... Ford I'm sorry."

Ford looked up at them both and finally let their hands go, hiding his own behind his back again. "You have nothing to be sorry for... excuse me." He rushed past them, and Mason felt something like guilt settle in his stomach. Dipper and Mabel started to go after him, but Stanley told them to stay put, and went after him himself.

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Mabel woke up to the room being silent, which wasn't good. Even though they had their own rooms back in California, she could usually still hear her brother snoring through the wall. A silent room meant he'd walked out. Groaning, she heaved herself off the bed and slipped into her shoes. The makeshift gag he had on was on the floor by the door. If she was lucky, he only made is as far as the kitchen, but she'd definitely found him outside before. Sneaking out the door, she whispered for Mason, just in case he'd somehow woken himself up. No reply, and no creaking, not good. She looked around a bit still, expecting to find him facing a corner like some kind of horror movie, finding nothing until she heard a creak of wood above her.

No.

Theres no way.

The shuffling sound continued above her, and she bounded outside to look up at the roof, the almost full moon illuminating the house better than any flashlight could. Her stomach dropped when she saw a figure swaying, stumbling toward the tip of the shack.

No.

Nononono!

"Shit Dip, how the hell did you get up there!?" She whispered, quickly running around the house to figure out how he got up there. Finding a drain pipe that looked somewhat sturdy, she used the window next to it to try and shimmy up it, but once she got a grip on the edge of the gutter, the whole corner fell off, and she fell back onto the damp grass, groaning.

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Is this a shameless plug? Maybe. Maybe I just like sharing my writing. 🤔🤷