#YEAH I SUCK AT FIGHT SCENES OKAY

[physalian]

What No One Tells you about Writing #3

Opening this up to writing as a whole, because it turns out I have a lot more to say!

Part 1

Part 2

1. You don’t fall in love with your characters immediately

But when you do, it’s a hit of serotonin like no other. I’d been writing a tight cast of characters for my sci-fi series since 2016 and switched over in a bout of writer’s block this year to my new fantasy book. I made it about ⅓ through writing the book going through the motions, unable to visualize what these new characters look like, sound like, or would behave like without a ‘camera’ on them.

Then, all of a sudden, I opened my document to keep on chugging with the first draft, and it clicked. They were no longer faceless elements of my plot, they were my characters and I was excited to see what they could accomplish, rooting for them to succeed. Sometimes, it takes a while, but it does come.

2. Sometimes a smaller edit is better than a massive rewrite

Unless you’re changing the trajectory of your entire plot, or a character’s arc really is unrecoverable, sometimes even a single line of dialogue, a single paragraph of introspection, or a quick exchange between two characters can change everything. If something isn’t working, or your beta readers consistently aren’t jiving with a character you yourself love, try taking a step back, looking at who they are as a person, and boil down what your feedback is telling you and it might demand a simpler fix than you expect.

Tiny details inserted at the right moment can move mountains. Fan theories stand on the backs of these minutiae. One sentence can turn a platonic relationship romantic. One sentence can unravel a fair and just argument. One sentence can fill or open a massive plot hole.

3. Outline? What outline?

Not every book demands weeks upon weeks of prep and worldbuilding. I would argue that jumping right in with only a vague direction in mind gives you a massive advantage: You can’t infodump research you haven’t done. Exposition is forced to come as the plot demands it, because you haven’t designed it yet.

Not every story is simple and straightforward, but even penning the first draft with your vague plan, *then* going back and adding in deeper worldbuilding elements, more thematic details, richer character development, can get you over the writer’s block hurdle and make it far less intimidating to just shut up and write the book.

4. It’s okay to let your characters take the wheel

I’ve seen writing advice that chastises authors who let their characters run wild, off the plan the story has for them. Yeah, doing this can harm your pacing and muddy a strong and consistent arc, but refusing to leave the box of your outline greatly limits your creativity. I do this particularly when writing romantic relationships (and end up like Captain Crunch going Oops! All Gays!).

Did I plan for these two to get together? No, it just happened organically as I wrote them talking, getting closer, getting to know each other better in the circumstances they find themselves in. Was this character meant to be gay? Well, he wasn’t meant to be straight, but you know what, he’d work really well with this other boy over here. None of that would have happened if I was bound and determined to follow my original plan, because my original plan didn’t account for how the story that I want to tell evolves. You aren’t clairvoyant—it’s okay if it didn’t end up where you thought it would.

5. Fight. Scenes. Suck.

Which is crazy because I love fantasy and sci-fi, the actiony-est genres. Some authors love battle scenes and fistfights. It comes naturally to them and I will forever be jealous. I hate fight scenes. I hate blocking and choreographing them. I hate how it doesn’t read like I’m watching a movie. I hate how it could take me hours to write a scene I can read in 5 minutes. I hate that there’s no way around it except to just not write them, or put in the elbow grease and practice.

Whatever your writing kryptonite is, don’t be too hard on yourself. It won’t ever replicate the movie in your head, but our audience isn’t privy to that movie and will be none the wiser of how this didn’t fit your expectations, because it’s probably awesome on its own. It could be a fight scene, sex scene, epic battle, cavalry charge, courtroom argument, car chase—whatever. Be patient, and kind to yourself and it will all come together.

6. Write the scenes you want to write first

And then be prepared to never use them. It can be mighty difficult working backwards from a climax and figuring out how to write the story around it, but if you’re sitting at your laptop staring at your cursor and watching it blink, stuck on a tedious moment that’s necessary but frustrating, go write something exciting. Even if that amazing scene ends up no longer working in the book your story becomes, you still get practice by writing it. Particularly if you hate beginnings or the pressure of a perfect first page is too high, you’re allowed to write any other moment in the book first.

And with that, be prepared to kill your darlings. Not your characters, I mean that one badass line of dialogue living rent free in your head. That epic monologue. That whump scenario for your favorite character. Sometimes it just doesn’t work out anymore, but even if it ends up in the trash, you can always salvage something from it, even if that’s only the knowledge of what not to do in the future.

7. “This is clearly an author insert.” … Yes. It is. Point?

No one likes Mary Sues, because a character who doesn’t struggle or learn to get everything they want in life is uncompelling. The most flagrant author inserts I see aren’t Mary Sues, they’re nerdy, awkward, boring white guys whose world changes to fit their perspective, instead of the other way around—they don’t have anything to say. I’m not the intended audience to relate to these characters and I accept that, but I don’t empathize with the so-called “strong female character” who also doesn’t have flaws or an arc either.

A good author insert? When the author gives their characters pieces of themselves. When the “author insert” struggles and learns and grows and it’s a therapeutic experience just writing these characters thrown into such horrible situations. They feel human when they’re given pieces of a human’s soul. They have real human flaws and idiosyncrasies. I don’t care if the author wrote themselves as the protagonist. I care that this protagonist is entertaining. So if you want to make yourself the hero of your book, go for it! But make sure you look in the mirror and write in your flaws, as much as your strengths.

[saetoru]

Rich boy! gojo getting all pouty because some guy hits on you at an event he takes you to and now you have a 6 foot GIANT leaning all his weight over you as he whines about not getting attention

[ WOUNDED PRIDE ] GOJO SATORU.

“satoru, you’re still pouting,” you hum, poking his cheek as he huffs.

“‘m not,” gojo mumbles, bitterly turning his head away from you. you can hear geto’s amused chuckle from the distance, making your boyfriend growl out a shut up, suguru under his breath, and because you’re supportive, you hide your own laugh.

“baby, he’s gone,” you cup his cheeks, grinning as he stubbornly refuses to meet your eyes, “you don’t have to be jealous anymore.”

“jealous?” he pulls away from you like you’ve insulted him—like the idea is simply too crazy to hear out loud, “me? jealous? what gives you that idea?”

“toru,” you snort, “you couldn’t be anymore obvious.”

“neither could you,” he accuses, narrowing his eyes at you, “you were trying to make me mad.”

“i don’t know what you’re talking about,” you say with faux innocence, making his arms cross.

and now his lips are even further jutted in a pout, though you know saying something will only make him more upset, so you choose to keep your mouth shut for now. but gojo can still sense your amusement, glaring at you before turning his head away with a petulant hmph.

“flirting with other men is considered cheating, you know.”

“i wasn’t flirting,” you giggle, “i was just making friends. like you told me to.”

“making friends doesn’t include zenin naoya,” gojo glares at you, prompting out a supportive yeah, he sucks from geto. gojo nods, pointing a thumb at geto in agreement, making you roll your eyes.

“you never told me you hated him,” you defend, “but i wasn’t trying to make you mad,” you add softly, cupping his cheeks again.

“yeah you were,” he mumbles bitterly. his cheeks are squeezed together by your palms, and his voice is slightly whiny—and suddenly, you think you fall in love all over again.

“i’m sorry, toru,” you smile gently, “i just thought you looked cute all pouty. i didn’t wanna make you mad.”

“i wasn’t pouting,” he grumbles, “i don’t pout. i’m a man.”

“you cry during movies,” geto points out—and you’re glad there’s no wine in your vicinity, otherwise you think gojo might splash it on his best friend’s crisp, white button down. and you don’t think his father would take kindly to the scene—which would only further complicate things.

“i’m a man with a heart,” gojo scowls, “that’s why i’m not single.”

“okay,” you break up the bickering, distracting gojo with a kiss to his cheek—he grins at the gesture, giving you one in return even though he’s still slightly upset with you (though he won’t admit it.)

satoru gojo is not a jealous man.

that’s what he’ll tell you, at least—but you know better. you can see it in the way his lips alternate back and forth from a tiny pout to an irritated scowl, in the way his eyebrows furrow with irritation, in the way he huffs and tries to act like he doesn’t care when suguru elbows him in amusement.

and it’s not as though you enjoy attention from…whoever it was you were talking to (apparently zenin naoya according to gojo), but there’s just a small part of you that’s lightly amused. gojo is like a magnet—the girls flock to him left and right like a slice of bread left out for the crows to fight for. you’re used to it by now, have learned to ignore the slight creep of doubt and simply ignore the jealous glares sent your way as you take his hand.

but that doesn’t mean you don’t enjoy the change of pace every once in a while—the rare turn of tables that have him irritated instead of you.

naoya is a little too entitled for your taste. there’s too much expensive cologne sprayed on and you’re sure if he could without seeming tacky, he’d have left the tag on his suit to show its brand new. that’s the case with all rich people, you think, too busy watering the roots to pull for the weeds.

you don’t particularly enjoy talking to him—but you amuse yourself all the same. he’s far too cocky when he asks are you an intern for the gojo’s? i haven’t seen you before—

and before you can answer, you hear a familiar voice spit: actually, they’re my date. you don’t even hear gojo come up behind you, and you know as soon as his arm wraps around your waist, your stuck to his side for the rest of the night whether you like it or not.

“don’t talk to naoya he sucks,” gojo mutters. you nod, agreeing with him to console the bitterly wounded pride he seems to be sporting.

“he’s the worst,” you agree, “and his cologne smells gross.”

“i have that cologne,” he gasps, “it’s my favorite. you hate it?”

“no,” you say quickly, “it smells nice on you. everything smells nice on you.” geto snorts, and you shoot him a warning glance before he can make the situation worse.

gojo doesn’t look convinced—eyes narrowed and lips curled in that soft pout of his when he doesn’t get his way. it’s a bit spoiled, just a little bratty in its own right, but makes you melt all the same, pinching his cheek gently as you chuckle.

“if i were you,” geto turns to you, “i’d talk to naoya more. it might humble satoru just a little—”

“if i were you, i’d shut up before getting punched—”

“you wouldn’t land a punch on me if you tried—”

“you don’t know that—”

“actually i do because you can’t fight for shit—”

“i’m an excellent fighter—”

“alright,” you hiss, glancing at the few heads that have turned to watch the bickering between gojo and geto, making you glare at them in slight embarrassment.

“baby,” gojo whines, “tell him i can fight.”

and because his ego has been wounded one too many times tonight, you let him slump onto you, ignoring the heavy weight as you sigh and wrap your arms around him. you’re sure quite a few people are staring by now—but you suppose people always stare when you date someone like gojo.

“you could totally fight naoya,” you agree. you think you’ve finally said something right—because he seems to brighten at your words.

“i could, couldn’t i?”

“yes,” you nod, “and you smell better. and you have better hair.”

“and i’m cuter.”

“of course,” you sigh, eyeing geto for help. but he grins, sends you a small wave with mischief in his expression as he wanders off—leaving you all alone to nurse gojo’s ego back to full health.

© hanmas do not plagiarize, repost, translate to other sites, or recommend on platforms outside tumblr such as tik tok

[simonrillleyyysss]

Imagine König with a reader who has puffy eyes because she just cries from anything and everything :(

Like her eyes were red and big, with eye bags that are super prominent and he makes fun of her for being such a crybaby all the time.

thanks for ur req anon!!

mean!könig, slight dubcon, afab!

könig is so cruel—naturally, he doesn’t mean to tease and degrade you over crying about something he said in a slightly off tone, but how could he help himself? you’re always whinging and whining, sniffling if he scolds you for annoying him while he’s working, behave! don’t be surprised, schatz. you know how he is, you know he isn’t good with babies.

yet, he’ll comfort you when you’re sobbing into his large, heavy chest, a large hand gently pressing against the back of your head—thumb brushing over tufts and puffs of your hair, listening to your choked sobs and sniffles, let it all out! just don’t make a big scene, mkay?

‘don’t cry, liebe.’

‘könig—the cat! in the video—it was like—‘

followed by a loud cough and a vibrant cry, burying your face in his chest.

crybaby sober? try drunk. few shots and a pint later? you’re crying because your standing up, or because the kebab shop beside the pub is shut—it drives him insane, honestly :(( how do your friends put up with you? they deserve a medal!

‘it’s a fucking kebab, du weinst, baby. shall we just head home; yeah?’

‘no! könig—i really—sniff-really really wanted it!’

‘i’m not going!’

don’t fight back, let him fold you over his lap when you’re particularly sensitive one day, you keep pestering him for attention and comfort, he has a life too, and a job.let him be, for once. you’re so emotional dependant on him, fat tears rolling down ur puffed out cheeks as the heel of his hand swatted against the curve of your ass, grumbling :((

he fucks the sadness out of you, you’re refusing and saying you don’t wanna force him to help you—but he’s already slamming himself in and out of that squealing cunt of yours, your fingernails digging into his shoulders till blood drew from the muscles adorning his back.

‘köni—mhhgggmm.. no-‘

‘it’s okay, liebling—fuck, you wanted this, right?’

‘i don’t wanna force y—‘

let’s you ride his face if you’re genuinely sad over something reasonable, sucking on your swollen petal till your back is arching and your knees are buckling beneath you, falling against the headboard!!<3

[nyctophicbtch]

The Songcord - Neteyam

[ Neteyam x Omatikaya!reader ]

Request: Can I request a Neteyam x Omaticaya!reader

Author’s note: I recommend listening to From Darkness to Light, The Spirit Tree, and The Songcord if you have tissues prepared

Warnings: angst, mentions of blood, death

Word Count: 3,101

“Feels like I haven’t been here in ages,” you muttered, hands brushing the glowing strands of the tree of voices. Kiri and Tuk were already immersed in their own worlds, not hearing a thing you were saying. Spider was out exploring on his own, eyeing the sky, the flowers, the tree, and basically everything else.

“Better make the most of it then,” Lo’ak replied, attaching his queue to a strand.

Neteyam was standing near the bark, and it looked like he wasn’t going to join them any time soon, so you followed Lo’ak and did the same.

It had been a while since you’d done this, or had been anywhere near the tree at all. Although there were plenty of excuses to use, you knew you were just scared of what you’d see.

It was moments like these, where you’d hear and see your actual parents, that made you afraid. You had been fighting so long to earn your place here with the Sully’s.

Even though you started off wanting to befriend the family of the person who insisted on becoming your friend, it’d grown into something deeper over time. And every time you looked back to your parents whenever you visited the tree made you realize that you could never have what you actually wanted.

The feeling overwhelmed you, screamed at you until the bond was forcefully broken and you were thrown back off your balance. You didn’t know what was happening, but you could somehow make out Lo’ak’s muffled yelling over your blurry vision and ringing ears.

“Neteyam!”

“What happened?”

“I don’t know!”

“Move!” You felt hands grasping your shoulders, but you were too caught up on trying to breathe to see who it was. It felt like the air was sucked out of you and none of your senses were working properly. “Hey, it’s okay. We’re here.”

There was no coherent thought on what was going on, but you could feel the thumb gently rubbing small circles on your shoulder.

“Shh. You’re okay,” Neteyam whispered, leaning his forehead to yours.

Your shallow breaths slowly returned to normal, and you started to make sense of what was happening. You could start to feel the numbing of your legs from the uncomfortable position, and you could see Lo’ak’s worried gaze on you. You started to hear Neteyam’s comforting words clearer and feel the way he was holding you.

You heard the sigh of relief Lo’ak released when you felt yourself calming down and Spider running towards you, closing your eyes to let yourself succumb to Neteyam’s comforting hold.

He kept his eyes closed and forehead pressed against yours for as long as you’d like to assure you that he wasn’t going anywhere. It was only when you felt the numbing of your legs begin to worsen when you pulled away, finally looking at your surroundings.

Kiri and Tuk were still engrossed in their memories and it looked like they did not witness the scene that had just unfold beside them, much to your relief. You didn’t know how you’d explain this to the cheery child.

“Hey, you okay? What was that?” Spider questioned.

“I don’t know.”

They all decided to leave you to yourself and give you time to think, well except Lo’ak who wasn’t going to let it slide that easily.

“What did you see?” he asked as he sat down beside you, leaning his head against a tree.

“The usual.”

“Then why did-“ Lo’ak stopped himself with a sigh before he could interrogate you any further. “Don’t leave me hanging for too long. Talk when you’re ready.”

“Yeah. Of course.”

“Guys, it’s dark out we need to get back.” You heard Kiri call out from a distance.

“You were the one that took so long,” Lo’ak replied as he stood up, offering a hand to you for support.

“Let’s go, children.” Neteyam rallied everyone, placing a hand on Tuk’s back when she almost lost her balance.

You all ran back from the way you came, anxiousness gripping at each one of you when you saw the sky completely dark, the only thing lighting it up were the stars and moons.

But there was no room to worry about curfew when all you could think about was what had happened back there. Everything happened so fast you could barely process it.

“You coming?” Neteyam’s voice pulled you from your thoughts.

You looked up to the boy waiting for you, his head turned back to face you expectantly. In a matter of seconds, you regained your senses and jumped up to the branch near him.

Maybe you didn’t really regain all of your senses after all, considering how you slipped on the moss and fell backwards. Lucky for you, Neteyam had incredible reflexes, grabbing your hand before you managed to fall. Being the Olo’eyktan in training had its perks.

“Careful.”

“Thanks,” you muttered half-heartedly.

Neteyam decided he wasn’t going to press you further on it, giving you some space for whatever is going on in your head.

The branches suddenly felt further apart than they were, and your legs felt heavy as you leaped from branch to branch, following the Sully kids.

“Mom’s going to be so mad,” said Kiri as she ran past Lo’ak to catch up with Spider. Poor Tuk was left behind, so you grabbed her hand and matched your pace with the youngest Sully.

“Come on, Tuk,” you encouraged her when you saw the big jump she had to make. She pursed her lips and made a running start before leaping, Neteyam steadying her balance on the other side.

“Go ahead, I’ll be right behind you,” he whispered as you passed him.

You could see the circled-outlines of the moons in the sky, their glow being the only thing that allowed you to see your path, apart from the glow behind the opening in a tree bark that indicated you were finally there.

“And where-“ Neytiri started as Neteyam joined your circle. “Have you all been?”

Technically you weren’t actually family, you thought as you slowly backed away from them. With it being so dark and you standing on the edge of the group made your escape seem pretty easy. Neteyam noticed your movements but didn’t comment on it.

“You too.” You froze in your spot, Neytiri’s eyes trained on you like a spotlight.

You doubted that they saw you as family, but Jake and Neytiri had an odd way of making you feel like it. You had been a little younger than Tuk when Lo’ak had found you, and from there, each day you spent with the Sullys brought you closer to the family. But in times like this, you wished you didn’t feel like part of the family enough to escape Neytiri’s scolding.

-

“Why do they get to do the fun stuff while we sit here? I’d rather join them.”

“Suit yourself. I like it here,” replied Kiri.

Just on time, you stopped your pacing and ran out to the sound of the people shouting for the war party. The scene that greeted you wasn’t what you had initially expected, but it was no surprise either.

You kept your distance as you watched the two boys look down guiltily when Kiri approached, trying to drag the older brother out of the situation.

However, the huge gash on Neteyam’s chest worried you more than anything. His tail was swishing gently, showing the unease he felt.

Eventually, Jake let them both go and you followed them into the tent, and when the boys saw you, their faces lit up.

“Hey,” you approached Neteyam who was sitting on top of a wooden table with Kiri tending to his wounds.

“I’m offended you didn’t come to me first,” grumbled Lo’ak from the corner of the room. He had his arms crossed over his chest stubbornly, and the bright look turned into a sour one.

Although you knew he was messing around, you heard some truth in his words. Besides, it was Lo’ak that had befriended you first, and it was him that had spent his nights up to no good with you when his brother was busy being a good child.

“Missed you too, Lo’ak.”

“Ouch. Can you not?” Neteyam flinched as Kiri pressed into the cut a little too forcefully.

“Do you want me to help?”

“You’re doing this on purpose.”

“No I’m not,” she scoffed before pressing his wound even harsher, making him slap her hand away. “Now that was on purpose. You do it, I’m gonna find Tuk.”

Kiri gave you the bowl before exiting the tent. You were never one for healing, but you saw her plenty of times and she knew that. It was usually Kiri that did all the work when her brothers came back all bruised and bleeding.

“It’s fine. I don’t need it anyways,” Neteyam argued and started to get up when you smeared the sap on his cut.

“It’s deep. You’ll get an infection.”

“No it’s-“

“Sit down.” You gently pushed the hand that wasn’t holding the bowl to his chest and Neteyam sat down. He kept his eyes on you as you continued working on him, making sure to be extra gentle.

“I’m still here,” Lo’ak called out, unamused. “This is getting sappy. I’m leaving.”

“How come you’re younger than me and you get to boss me around all the time?” Neteyam started once his brother was out of earshot.

“I’m Lo’ak’s age.”

“And I see him as a baby.”

You sighed, feeling around his head to find any injuries. Neteyam could tell you were distracted and that your thoughts were everywhere but here with him just from the look in your eyes. You’ve been welled up in your thoughts ever since your last visit to the tree of voices, and the change of mood that came with it was evident.

“You okay?” Neteyam finally decided to speak up, wincing when you pressed on a sore spot in his scalp.

“Hmm?”

“You’ve been like this for the past week,” he explained. “Distant.”

“What do you mean?”

“Come on. I know you better than that. Lo’ak thinks it has something to do with me and he won’t shut up about it.”

“I’m fine.” You applied the sap with just a bit too much pressure on his head and he grasped your hand in his, bringing it away from his head.

“I won’t tell him,” he started when you finally looked at him for the first time ever since Kiri left. “What’s going on in that pretty head of yours?”

Neteyam saw your hesitance and reached for the bowl in your other hand to set it down next to him. He lowered his voice, speaking gently as if he was afraid of hurting you. “What happened when we were in the tree of voices?”

“I don’t know. I saw my parents and when it stopped I just panicked and I don’t know why. This never happens. Then I started thinking about your family and how they don’t really consider me a part of their family made me wish I had something like that.” You didn’t even realize the tears were falling until you felt Neteyam wipe the ones that fell to your cheeks. He stood and put an arm around you to bring you into an embrace, allowing you to bury your face in his shoulder.

Every welled up thought and feeling from the past week you’ve tried to shove as deep in the back of your head as possible suddenly resurfaced all over again. Maybe you were too scared to admit it, but Neteyam’s comfort was what you’ve been needing.

“You’re as much of the family as I am,” he softly assured whilst pulling away, tilting your chin upwards with a finger to look at him. “It might not look like it, but we all care. Even mom and dad.”

And then Neteyam did something stupid.

He leaned in to press his lips against yours, his grip around you tightening to pull you closer. You could taste the salt from your own tears as you responded with the same amount of intensity, all the built-up emotions finally pouring out into the kiss.

Your hands reached out to wrap around his neck when you felt his tail brush against your leg, the slow loving movements indicating how blissed out he was.

You weren’t sure how long the two of you stayed in that tent, but when you pulled away breathlessly, Neteyam did the same with visible effort.

“How am I going to tell Lo’ak?”

Neteyam breathed out a small laugh and closed his eyes, pressing his forehead against yours.

“I’m more worried about dad.” At his words, you parted from him anxiously. “Relax. You��re family. If anything, they’ll be more worried about you than me.”

He wasn’t wrong. Jake looked like he was having a panic attack when the two of you told him and Neytiri.

“You want to tell me how this happened?” He pointed between the two of you who looked like guilty kids that had gotten caught stealing. You both glanced at each other hesitantly as Jake grew impatient waiting for an explanation from either of you.

“Neteyam kissed me.” Your voice came out so quiet you weren’t sure whether you’d said it out loud or if you’d only said it in your head.

Jake and Neytiri looked purely out of it. They cast their son a look while he looked anywhere but at his parents.

“Neteyam,” Neytiri warned.

The Olo’eyktan made sure to make the list of rules clear for the both of you. No wandering off too far alone together and definitely no sleeping together, even just next to each other separately. Jake mentioned how he knew it wasn’t uncommon considering how you’ve been doing that since you were children, but now it was off limits. He also mentioned a whole set of other rules and how he would kill Neteyam if the boy laid a hand on you or hurt you in any way.

In a way, the protectiveness they held towards you made you feel welcomed and accepted. It made you feel as if you were actually part of the family. And even more so when they offered you to join them to pursue lands beyond the Omatikaya clan.

Since the only people you’ve stuck to since you were young were their kids, Jake and Neytiri knew you’d be devastated if you had to part with them, especially when you were now attached with their eldest son.

There was no dismissing their offer from your side either. You weren’t going to leave the only people who truly knew you, and you weren’t going to leave Neteyam. Though you had to admit, you missed the forest just as much as everybody else.

“What’s that?” asked the youngest Sully as she peeked over your shoulder to get a closer look at what you were holding.

“A bracelet I’m making for you.” Her face brightened even more.

“It’s pretty!”

“It needs more shells. I’ll fetch some more outside and woah-“ your eyes widened when Neteyam and Lo’ak entered, all bruised and bloody. “What now?”

“Got into a fight with Tsireya’s brothers. They were picking on Kiri. Hey Tuk,” Lo’ak said, ruffling his sister’s hair.

“You too?” You looked at the older brother.

“What? Was I supposed to stand there and watch him get beaten up?”

“I could’ve handled them on my own.”

Neteyam snorted. “No, you’d be with Eywa if it wasn’t for me.”

Lo’ak grumbled his way to Tuk, who looked like she had so many questions for him. He picked up the bracelet you made and twirled it in his hands, earning an angry protest from his sister who snatched it away from his hands.

You were about to leave to go shell-hunting when a thought passed through your head after seeing blood on Neteyam’s lips.

It looked like it hadn't dried up, so you acted on impulse when you approached him and brought your hand to his jaw to pull him into a gentle kiss, making sure to lick his bottom lip where the blood was.

The kiss took Neteyam by surprise, and once he was about to respond, you pulled away, leaving him puzzled.

“You got blood on your lips,” you whispered, tracing your fingers along his jaw before reluctantly letting go.

“Gross, you two. Poor Tuk’tirey’s tainted.” You barely heard Lo’ak’s words as you walked away from them.

The rest of your days were filled with the same routine. You’d learn a thing or two from the Tsireya and then Lo’ak would stir up trouble with her brother and his friends. How they had managed to get along after some time was a miracle.

Everyday was filled with new discoveries of their waters. Tuk would ask to see something new almost every hour, and being the favorite, you’d accompany her almost every time. If you weren’t with Tuk, you’d be sitting somewhere with Kiri. If you weren’t with Kiri, you’d be exploring the waters with Lo’ak, and if you weren’t with Lo’ak, you’d be discovering new places on land with Neteyam.

Today, you were with Lo’ak, and you hadn’t expected that warning his Tulkun friend would turn into something much much worse. You weren’t even sure how it came to this point.

You were escaping the sky people when Kiri, Lo’ak and Tuk were taken. It was one thing after the other and the next thing you know, you were trying to keep your composure as you watched Neteyam writhe in pain from a bullet wound in his chest, your palm caressing his jaw to let him know you were here.

It’s okay. He’s going to be okay.

“Hey, it’s okay,” Jake voiced your thoughts.

“I want to go home.”

No. It’ll take more than a bullet to kill you.

“I know, I know. We’re going home.”

No. No.

You felt your heart breaking followed by a tear with every sob and pained sound that came out of his mouth.

“It’s okay,” you quietly assured him as your thumb gently stroked his cheek, the first word you’ve spoken coming off as a whisper.

Neteyam glanced your way one last time at your voice before the pain in his eyes turned lifeless and his convulsing body went still.

“No. No, no-“ Neytiri begged and it felt like the air was sucked out of you. “Neteyam!”

You couldn’t even hear your own scream over the ringing of your ears. Everything happened all too fast.

“Neteyam,” you sobbed, cradling his head close.

You can’t leave me. Come back.

:)

[bitchimasnake-sss]

"forgive me one last time" ft. the monster trio!

headcanons of highschool!au monster trio as your boyfriend begging for forgiveness after fucking shit up

luffy:

- "yn" he mumbles, trailing after you in the hallways "stop trailing me" you hiss as you open the locker, shoving the books inside and taking out another "yn" his hands are wrapping around your waist, his neck finding home in the crook of your neck and he's whining again, "please forgive me, pretty please?" - it wasn't even like you got mad often tbh; dating luffy meant he is gonna do stupid shit and you're gonna have to deal with it but there was a limit to stupid shit too - you shove his head away from your neck, "romilda fuckin' asked you, "wanna go watch a movie??" and you said yes. how can you say yes to a date while you have a girlfriend?! do i mean nothing?!" "i didn't know it was a date!!" his hands are wrapping around you tighter, "i thought she was lonely and wanted to hangout with a friend!! you know i wouldn't have said yes otherwise ynnn~" "are you an id-" you huff, "i'm getting late for class, get off" you forgave his dumbassery on the regular but come on, now its insane - yeah you didn't forgive him - not until you came back to keep your books and take new ones for the next period and saw giant "i miss you" and "sorry" glittery stickers plastered onto your locker (did he steal those from a 3rd grader? youre not sure) - you huffed, opening the locker - your jaw went slack - the entire locker was full of your favourites. your favourite candy, the cookies sanji always makes during christmas (how did he get those rn??), your favourite soda and flowers - how did he manage all that in the time span of one period??? - at the side is a note in a scrawly handwriting, "you wanna go watch a movie with me? (asking you for a date, not as a friend who wants to hangout) boyfriend :)" - you ended up forgiving him only after he bought he a bucket of popcorn and kissed you during the end credits of the movie - he also had to buy you dinner from the baratie like a gentleman.

zoro:

- "zo," you huff, "it's like the thousandth time, ofcourse im gonna be fucking mad at you!" "i know" he groans, "i really know, but i'm sorry, please" "no. you can't keep saying you'd show up for my events and then fuckin' disappear like always!" - you're fighting in hushed whispers in the hallway, you didn't wanna cause a scene because you know how bad zoro finds public attention - you know he's busy training, busy with his friends and you know he loves you but a part of you wonders if he simply doesn't actually love you - he constantly fails to show up at your events, he has never outright called you his girlfriend in front of people who weren't his close friends and he has never even held your hand in public because he says pda makes him uncomfortable - you got him but it simply sounds like he's afraid to admit you both are together - "are you not happy with me?" your voice is breaking, crumbling into silent heaves, "do not lo-" "what?" his hands find yours, "no, ofcourse not. baby, i just had another practice and dad (mihawk) called me back home. im sorry, i couldn't say no to him" "i know b-" - he kisses you - in the middle of the fucking hallway, with other people around - he does it. that bastard. - his hands are tucking your hair behind your ear, resting softly on your cheek as he tip you backwards and kisses you till you cannot possibly breath "i love you" he says loud enough so that anybody within earshot could hear, flashing you a small smile his voice comes down to a whisper, "i'm sorry i suck at being a good boyfriend, i will get better okay?" - he follows through on that promise because the next time, he is standing at your event with a tshirt just reading "yn is the coolest" and a small, stupid smile on his face "was the tshirt necessary?" "yes" - ugh i love soft zoro

sanji:

- sanji had a (bad) habit of always backing you up - one might wonder what's bad about that but when he almost beat the shit out of a random guy for saying he didn't like your vibes - "sanji!" you pull him away, eyes widening, "stop it" "but yn" "you cannot keep doing this! you cannot keep fucking putting up a fight against anybody who doesn't like me-" "yes i can" "sanji." - it ended up leading to a fight and you stormed off into the class - you expected sanji to come apologize the very next period or atleast text you or something - but nothing. you didn't see him for the rest of the day. - not until it was 9 pm and all of a sudden, a cheesy pop song was playing outside your window and in your front lawn stood a drenched, blonde guy holding up a boombox and a giant wet, white sheet reading "FORGIVE ME YN IM SORRY PLEASE I LOVE YOU" - first of all why was he drenched? it wasn't even fucking raining - that brings your attention to his two best friends, luffy and zoro holding a hose at him from a distance (luffy is giggling, he's having the time of his life, zoro looks like he hates being alive) - "sanji why are STANDING IN FRONT OF WATER?!" "SO THAT YOU FORGIVE ME, MY LOVE IM SORRY" "YOU'D CATCH A COLD, COME INSIDE IDIOT!!" - well, he did bring a box full of home-made chocolate though, so you cannot be mad at him for long - did this event stop him from being a bit over-bearing? no, not really but eh, that's sanji for ya

a/n: cutesy little headcanon lol thankyou so much @scentisterror for helping me with this <3<3

[ressonancee]

IMPATIENT

✦ genre: friends with benefits, a dash of humor (?), reader is a bit of a brat and this has sub and dom undertones - smut

✦ word count: 3.040

✦ Thea note: okay first this was supposed to be a drabble for my girl @toruro so mika - i hope you enjoy it. second, I won't say anything bad about my own work but lately, i have been so busy and tired that writing is just harder than usual even when I have fun with it, i really like reader on this one so maybe we will see a pt 2 when my brain is not working at 25% of its capability - but I do hope y'all enjoy this even tho my brain is like fighting for dear life!!!

Your mind was completely empty. 

Hoshi had been speaking for a solid thirty minutes and if somebody asked what was the problem you couldn’t say something because everything that left Hoshi’s mouth did reach your ear, but your brain didn’t process it, because you were too busy using all your cognitive function. The only thing you could focus on was how Minghao was laughing at something Jeonghan said - even tho you actually didn’t hear his giggle it was something that you knew so well that your brain made you believe that he was laughing right there - at your side, but more than that, it was on how a brunette girl who was actually on his side - eating everything up, laughing at everything, looking at Minghao in awe, that, that scene was what making your brain way too busy. 

"And then she was like super angry that I didn't text her I mean she said we should stop talking first-" Hoshi said and stared at you waiting for an answer.

"Yeah, that's sucks, I'm sorry," you say taking another sip of your beer, "you know what? Maybe you should talk to Jeonghan. He could totally talk to her about how you misunderstood everything," you say already trying to drag Soonyoung to the other side of the room. 

"Yo!” Hoshi’s eyes lit up, “That's- That's really nice advice,"

"Right, let's talk to him," You say interlocking your arms with Hoshi and finally dragging him across the room, not even feeling that sorry, but again, you were too curious, too focused, to actually care about Hoshi’s love problem. Hell, you had one of your own right in your point of view

"Jeonghan my guy!" Hoshi calls making everyone in that little circle pay attention to you two. 

"What is going on?" Minghao asks when you stop at his side, that side-eye he gives you when he knows - somehow - that you have been up to no good. 

"You ask me?" You try your best to bat your eyelashes at him, even tho you know he won’t eat it up. 

"You were the one planning everything," Minghao says.

“Planning?” The brunette girl asks, and she is cute, she seems nice, she is the epitome of the girl next door.

“Oh yeah, planning how Hoshi is gettin’ his girl back you see-” You start, trying your best to be your own version of the girl next door.

“Hey I need something to drink, be right back,” Minghao says and starts to drag you to the kitchen - oh, that was how Hoshi felt? Weird, Karma was acting super fast lately. 

“Wait I wasn't planning-” You try to argue, huffing, and almost stomping your feet, "I was listening to a good friend talk about his heartbreak, and you? What were you doing with miss brunette and Jeonghan?"

"Are you?" He says and you can see how the corners of his mouth start to lift up, the foreshow of a smile and you just can’t take it.

"Nope," you say, trying your best, but you know he already won. 

"You are!" He giggles - that silly giggle he always does, the giggle that you love to hear, the giggle that makes your heart full almost to the point it bursts. And you give up, because you know he knows, "Maybe? A little?"

"Sure, a little," Minghao says, crossing his arms and leaning on the kitchen counter, and god he looks so good, he is tired and you know that because he has his glasses on instead of his contacts, his hair is already huffed up and longer - you like that, and you like to think he didn’t show up on his monthly haircut because you said that to him the last time, 

"Can we-" you start and before you finish you can see his smile. 

"Sure, you go first or I go first?" He asks. You two made a routine of it, made an almost everyday practice, a little secret that you two shared, tucked in away os the curious eyes of everyone else. In a way, it was something sacred, cherished, something only you two could tap into.  

"To your room?" You ask even though you know it is the only place possible right now, Minghao just nods, "Okay I go first, but you should go talk to Hoshi, he is in actual distress I wasn’t planning that up"

"Sure," Minghao says, standing in front of you - he looks at the door before he holds your face and just plants his lips on yours. And before you can say anything he vanishes. 

Leaving you there, standing still in the middle of the kitchen.

It was weird the whole sneaking out to not get caught part of the deal. You and Minghao have been friends for so long that your friends were his friends, and his friends were your friends and the whole thing was just messy. And maybe you didn't want to share that with everyone - every new detail of Hao was yours. But you also didn’t want to share the tiptoeing in the shallow water phase. 

In a way you wanted to learn what that was, is, and will become on your own.

So you try your best to not draw any attention to yourself, the first step of the process pick yourself a cold beer - that's why you were in the kitchen. Step two, go to Minghao's room, not that much trouble. Step three is not to fall asleep in his bed, he does spend way too much money on bedsheets, it feels like you are lying in a cloud. Soft, fluffy, and slightly cold against your skin. 

And you are almost drifting until you hear the door open, and it is not Hao.

"Hey," Chan says, already rummaging around, opening Minghao's drawers, "Did you see a charger around? Someone took mine, for real people need to understand boundaries in this household."

"Don't you tell me," you say smiling at Chan, the irony of it. 

"Yeah I know," he huffs making you laugh, "but someone stole mine first," then he turns out you, his expression is almost a question mark, "Wait, are you okay? Why are you here?"

"Just a headache," you say trying your best to give an academy winner performance, lifting up your hand, touching your forehead and all.

"Oh yeah, do you need anything? I know this house is a mess but we do have painkillers," Chan says sincerely. 

"No, no, already took one, I'm good, thanks Channie," you say almost feeling bad to lie, almost being the keyword.

"Chan, what are you doing?" Minghao says resting his shoulder on the door. 

"Oh man," Chan says defeated, "I am doing nothing, and if your charger disappeared it wasn't me ok? Mine was stolen too,"

"I-" Minghao shakes his head, huffing up a bit while closing the door. 

"Lock it," you remark "or we will get Mingyu searching for a hair tie while your dick is in my mouth," You say taking off your own shirt, and already working on the button of your pants when Minghao's cold hands reach yours.

"Why are you always in a hurry," he says, his hands traveling to your shoulders, pressing you down until your back finds the mattress. 

"You do live with four other guys, so-" you say like it was common sense, because you know Minghao's roommates, they are your friends as well, and you know they are fucking nosy.

"No, you always like that," Minghao says, lowering his body against yours, "even when nobody is around," he says against your neck. 

"I'm not," you say, hands on the back of his neck, playing with his hair while his lips find the skin of your neck.

"You are," he says kissing your jaw, "you need to learn how to be patient."

"Yeah, whatever," you say almost rolling your eyes, tugging at Minghao's hair, "not today though." 

"Why not?" Minghao says, voice low like he is telling you a secret, while his digits trace the strap of your bra. 

"Because," you whine but Minghao is still working in slow motion, his lips tracing your collarbones, "today you gonna fuck me stupid, I can learn something tomorrow"

"I can fuck you stupid even if we do it slowly," Minghao giggles again, god and you almost hate him, his fingers finally tugging the strap enough, he gives your shoulder a kiss before tugging the cup of your bra. 

"And if I say please?" You say making Minghao stop on his track and you almost laugh before he looks at you.

"If you say what?"

"If I say pretty please can you fuck me stupid and like right now? You can totally teach me a lesson tomorrow or-" you say hands against Minghao's face and tugging him just enough until he understands what you want - him - pressed against you, his lips against yours, him against your hands, your mind is only filled with thoughts of him, him, him.

“Come on-” Minghao says, holding your head - making you whine a little when you try to follow him, trying to keep your lips connected, “say it”

“Oh no,” It’s your time to giggle, your smile plastered across your face, and it is so easy to be happy when Minghao's cold hands are against your waist when he is kneeling between your thighs, “You like it too much”

“And? What’s wrong with that?” he says dragging his hands over your body until reaches the waistband of your jeans, “If you ask prettily," Minghao pauses tugging at the belt loops, "you know I will give you everything you ask for”

"Promise?" You say, your own voice sounds different against your ears somehow, your hands holding Minghao's forearm. You can feel your cheeks burn, but just like Minghao, you are willing to give him everything he asks for. And he just nods, hands pressed against your thighs now. "Can you please just fuck me? I promise tomorrow you can tease me and take your precious time."

"Yeah, sure sweetheart," Minghao says smirking at you, it is so condescending that you want to stand up and pick a fight with him, but in the end he means it - he is already working on your jeans, hands dragging against your hips before he gets off the bed just to pull at the bottom hem. "but, just so you know, make sure you have a free afternoon tomorrow."

"Sure, sure, gonna timeblock you right after my dentist appointme-" you start but end up being cut off by your own welp of surprise because Minghao's hand finds your thigh and drags you across the bed.

"You are so smart-mouthed sometimes," he says again finding his place in the space between your thighs, and you just pout - not because of the quip, but because he is still fully dressed, "What?"

"You're still dressed," you say tugging at the hem of his shirt, and Minghao laughs again like you are saying the silliest thing in the world, but that doesn't take your mind away when he lowers his body to kiss you again. 

You try your best to keep your mind focused, still tugging Minghao's shirt, hands lifting the material off his back until it's pooling at his shoulders. When Minghao gets on his knee to finally take the damn thing off you follow him, lips against his chest, hands already on his jeans. 

"Come on," you complain, tugging at his jeans. 

"Ok, ok," Minghao huffs out before leaving the bed again, looking at you with a smirk on his face, "I'm taking it off don't need to pout," he says finally taking off those damn jeans but leaving on his underwear, "come on, your turn"

"Hun?" You say totally distracted, making Minghao giggle again, "Oh okay," you finally get what he means, taking off your own bra. 

"Fuck," Minghao says, before he is kissing you again, "you are so pretty, you should let me-"

"Baby you promised," you whine, because you know Minghao like the back of your hand. 

"You are the first one that hates the idea of me taking my time," Minghao says when his hands find your hips, tugging at your panties, making you lift your hips a little to help him, "I could totally eat you out right now,"

"I know," you whine, and it is true, he could eat you out, and you know he loves doing it. But Minghao is right, you do not have the patience, "tomorrow I let you go down on me for like forty-five minutes"

"You say like that is a hassle for you," Minghao says, hands against your knee, eyes on your pussy,  "or for me by the way"

"Oh for fuck sake," you try to close your legs even though Minghao’s hand is still on your knees, blocking your action. 

"Ok ok sh-" Minghao says, finally lowering his underwear, and for the first time you think about it. Think about learning how to be patient, to be calm, and composed, just so you can change your plans just to put Minghao’s dick in your mouth. Okay, maybe not calm and collected but less stubborn, but before you can say it all Minghao is just taking too long searching for the condom making you impatient again, but before you can complain he guides his dick to your pussy.

“This is insane,” you complain, Minghao hovering over you, his longer bangs over your face, making you ticklish. 

“What?” Minghao says against the skin of your neck, his voice sound muffled. His hand is still on your waist, his dick hot against your thigh. 

“You really want to make me beg?” You say tugging Minghao’s hair, “Is this a kink? Do we need to talk about this?” 

“I mean, I’m not really against a pretty girl begging for my dick,” Minghao says, making you shudder.

“Not gonna give you that,” you say - and it is not because you are stubborn, you are, and you know that, but with Minghao is just fun, the push and pull of it, the banter, this thing going on between the two off you. 

“You are so fucking stubborn,”

“Come on, I already said please,” You say pretending you are against the idea of begging Minghao - like you never did before. 

“Sure baby,” Minghao says giving you a kiss on your cheeks, and is just so sweet like he is not about to fuck you like he is not holding his dick against your pussy - rubbing himself against you, "Just because you said please", he says in that condescending tone, but before you can argue or raise your voice, Minghao is finally fucking you and the feel of his dick stretching you out is enough to make you speechless. 

And it was always like that, it always ended up with Minghao filling you up.

And you can't complain when he is fucking you the way he likes it - a lewd pace that makes your mind spin, it makes you claw Minghao's back, while his grip against your tightens. Maybe - you think to yourself - just maybe you try to hurry Minghao up to see if he caves up, to see if he has another side inside him, to see if he fucks you hard and fast makes you like him less, makes you less addicted to the feel of his skin against yours, the feel of his mouth against your neck. 

But he never complies. 

He keeps fucking you at his own pace, at his own volition. 

“Hao please,” you beg - because you are ready to give Minghao everything he wants if he gives you something in return. 

“Ah, so now we are not above begging?” Minghao chuckles, his voice so close to your ear that his lips graze your skin. 

“Please,” you try again “I will beg, I will do whatever you want I promise.” 

“Come on,” Minghao says, one of his hand trailing against your skin, until it reach your neck, “we both know you won’t, behaving is against your own existence” 

“You say that like you hate it”

“I actually love it, that’s the problem,” Minghao says, planting a kiss on your cheeks before he finally picks up his pace.

You understand Minghao really, sometimes you are too hastened. Is not like you are particularly against him taking his time, warming you up, eating you out, and fucking you at his own pace - you enjoy all that. But you also enjoy what he is doing now, fucking you fast and hard enough that you need to hold on for dear life.

You like this Minghao too - this version of him that nothing is holding him back. 

And the only thing in your mind is Minghao.

The only thing you can think about is him. How he feels against you, how Minghao licks your skin, how his hand clutches your hips, and how he is panting against your neck. When everything starts to get muffled you know that you are almost there - and the only thing you can do to muffle your own noises is to bite down Minghao's shoulder. 

And everything stands still for a minute.

“We need to stop sneaking out,” MInghao says panting above you, you look at him and how disheveled he looks, how his sweaty hair clings to his forehead. He always says that to you, how he always brings that up after sex, If he weren’t a non-believer you would say it was the Christian guilt kicking in after sex, but you know Minghao, and you know why he asks.

“Yeah, I think Chan is finally catching up that something is going on,” You say, your own smile plastered on your face when you hear his silly giggle. 

You look at Minghao again, he is sitting on the bed, back against you. probably dealing with his condom, and you try to bite your own tongue, you try to hold yourself back but the urge to say something is stronger than you, and to be honest when it is about pushing Minghao’s buttons you are not the strongest soldier “but first we are going to talk about your kink list sir," and Minghao silly giggle just turns into a disapproving growl. 

[desert-fern]

Pairing: Bradley ‘Rooster’ Bradshaw X Fem!Reader

Summary: You’ve had Rooster’s eye since he first met you, the only problem? You were in a relationship. But when you come to the Hard Deck newly single, looking to have a good time, your ex reappears. Things get heated, what’s a man to do other than shoot his shot (and maybe throw a few punches)?

Warnings: swearing, cheating (not from our main characters), confrontation about cheating, physical fights (it is a bar fight after all), reader is a quippy little shit. Lmk if I missed anything.

Word Count: 5.5k

A/N: hey all! Welcome to my second ever Rooster oneshot and my entry for @roosterforme’s Rocktober event! This piece is inspired by Van Halen’s Jump and is my excuse to write a bar fight.

===

Friday nights out with Mason sucked. Well, the drinks were always good at the Hard Deck, the other Navy men who frequented on Fridays were very pleasing to look at, the only shitty thing was, well, Mason. He would ditch you multiple times throughout the night, spending hours chatting with people he saw at work all day while you sat awkwardly in your seat people-watching.

Needless to say, you didn’t like those Friday nights very much. The nights where it was just the two of you were wonderful; you had his undivided attention and it was just easy. Your boyfriend would be all over you, smothering you with affection and it was so unlike the pilot you had come to know.

Mason just became a completely different person when he went out to the Navy bars with you. Maybe it was your fault, you weren’t really the kind of person who liked going out, so you couldn’t really blame him if he ditched you.

That was reasonable right?

Those were your thoughts as you sat at the bar, sipping on your water watching Mason and his group of friends chat with a group of girls. “You doing okay?” A voice next to you asked.

You turned, catching sight of what was probably the prettiest man you’d ever seen. Tall with tan skin just the right side of sunburnt, his whiskey coloured eyes were watching you over a pair of aviators perched on the edge of his nose. You swallowed, watching as his biceps moved, straining against the white and yellow printed Hawaiian shirt. “Yeah,” you croaked out, wincing at the sound. “Uh, yes. I’m alright, thanks.”

He smiled at you, his mustache crinkling just a little and you had to take a sip of your drink to try and keep your composure. “Glad to hear it. I’m Bradley, most people around here call me Rooster though.”

“Good to meet you, Bradley,” you replied, smiling back at him. You introduced yourself and couldn’t help but grin when he repeated your name back to you, loving the way it rolled off his tongue.

“Are you here with anyone?”

You nodded, smiling sadly. “I am. My boyfriend is over- well he was over there. I don’t know where he went,” you said after a minute. “But I don’t mind a little conversation.”

Bradley grinned. “Glad to hear it. So, at the risk of sounding like a sleaze, you come here often?” You could hear the humour in his tone and it made you laugh.

“I do, but it’s really not my scene.”

“Not a fan of the Navy?”

You shook your head. “That’s not it, my boyfriend is a pilot for the Navy. I’m just not really one for crowds,” you admitted. Your job as a nurse brought you close to a lot of people and sometimes, all you wanted was just to cuddle up on the couch with Mason and watch a movie. However, your boyfriend was much more of a social butterfly than you were and you often went along with what he wanted for the sake of not arguing.

But Friday nights were ‘for the boys’ so you often got dragged along to the bar whether or not you wanted to go.

“Did you want to step outside? I’d hate for my gorgeous but taken conversation partner to be uncomfortable,” Bradley said, shooting you a sly wink that had warmth blooming in your cheeks.

“Does that line often work for you?” You teased, enjoying how his blush grew.

He took a swig of his beer, rolling the bottle between his palms on the bar top before replying. “Wasn’t a line, sweetheart. You’re taken, but I can’t understand how he could so easily leave someone like you sitting all alone.”

You had to bite your lip to stifle the grin that threatened to grow larger the longer you sat chatting with Bradley. A reply was half way out of your mouth when a hand gripped your arm and you heard Mason’s voice next to your head. “Piss off Bradshaw, she’s taken.”

“Maso-” you started, but Bradley took a step back from you. You hadn’t noticed how close the two of you had been, practically sharing the same breath, but now, it was like someone had doused you with ice cold water. “We were just-”

“I don’t care,” your boyfriend growled. “Stay the fuck away from him.”

“Why?” You demanded. “You fucking ditch me at the bar YOU wanted to go to and expect me to not talk to anyone? Do you have any idea what that’s like?”

“Cannon…” Bradley muttered. “Of fucking course.”

Mason turned to look at you and you had never seen this kind of look in his eyes before. He looked dangerous, a wildness seemed to have taken over his entire being and you were scared. “Don’t embarrass me,” he hissed softly, his grip tightening around your arm.

Bradley must have seen the look of shock in your eyes because he stepped in. “Cannon, man, we were just talking. Let her go.”

Your arm was released and you finally took notice of his dishevelled appearance, a stone plunging your stomach down, down, down. You had known. Smelt the perfume that was not yours, you never wore it because Mason had claimed it gave him a headache. You had turned a blind eye to the random scratches, the strange bruises, even the lipstick on his shirts. You had willingly chosen to push your doubts aside for the sake of living the same boring life you had lived for the better part of two years.

But not anymore.

Pushing your doubt down, you let him lead you out of the bar, making the short trip to your car. You drove in a stony silence, ignoring every criticism Mason threw your way. But you said nothing, at this moment, you weren’t his girlfriend but his DD, and you thought long and hard about what you wanted from your life. If you were honest with yourself, it wasn’t Mason.

You wanted the simple life you had before he’d stumbled into your life with all the grace of a drunk elephant, a fairly apt description for Mason as a person.

He had made it fucking transparent that the last two years were a waste of your time. Mason’s friend, Max or Nuke as he was known to your boyfriend, lived a few blocks away from the bar, it was his house where you dropped him off, all but pushing him out of the car. “Don’t call me,” you snapped, watching his face go from confused to angry. “We’re done. I’m bringing your shit here tomorrow.”

The drive back to your place was strangely quiet. No drunk ranting, no criticising your shyness in the bar, none of that. It was like you pulled the bag off your head, unknowing that it was suffocating you and now you were finally breathing fresh air again. You thought back to Bradley, his strong arms, the ease with which he’d carried himself and the pink hue of his cheeks when you’d teased him back.

He was different.

And maybe you deserved different, but maybe that was your newly-single brain getting ahead of itself. All you knew is that your heart felt lighter as you climbed the stairs to your apartment, it was freeing and constricting all at once.

Inside, you ignored your phone buzzing incessantly. You plugged your phone in, ignoring the flash of angry messages that appeared as quickly as you could blink. You groaned, watching as Mason’s name popped up on your phone, this time calling you, but it disappeared just as fast, clearly he hadn’t meant to call you. It took less than 10 seconds for you to power your phone off, the screen going black as your eyes finally gained a reprieve from the onslaught of angry, hateful messages directed at you.

Mason could sober up before you had any type of conversation with him, not that you would be doing so for a long time, but still. He ran a short fuse, blowing up so quickly over the smallest things. You figured you were saving yourself the headache of not engaging, so you began to grab his things, throwing them in a pile in the living room.

Somewhere between cleaning out his clothes and throwing his knick knacks into the living room, you felt a tear run down your cheek. “He doesn’t deserve these tears,” you muttered angrily, swiping them away. “He didn’t deserve you.”

===

A few months later, you let your friend and coworker bully you into going out with her. You had often told Blair about your people watching at the Navy Bar and it had only taken one mention of it from you and she had been obsessed with the idea.

Now that you were single, for a whole three months, as Blair had ever so helpfully pointed out, she had decided that it was time for you to get back out there.

So here she was standing in your bedroom, clothing scattered around her as she pulled shirt after dress out of your closet. “Why have I never seen any of these before?! This shirt would look so hot on you!”

Shaking your head, you had to say that you didn’t know. “I just never felt comfortable wearing it around Mason’s friends and-”

“And you two never went out without at least one of his douchey friends.” Blair finished for you, giving you a look. “I swear, hon, his cock must have been huge for you to put up with his BS for as long as you did.”

You snorted. “That’s the sad part…”

“No! He was a fuckhead who cheated, a selfish bastard, and he had a micropeen?!” Blair exclaimed, whirling around to look at you. “Why were you with him to begin with? And don’t say that he was different when you first met. Mason wasn’t smart enough to hide all of that.”

The room was silent for a beat before the both of you burst into laughter. “I don’t even know why I said yes when he asked me out!”

“Girl! Me neither!”

You’d doubled over, clutching at your stomach as you laughed. It had morphed into a cackle of a sound, filling the room with raucous noise that had Blair laughing harder.

Tears streamed down your faces as you both tried your hardest to calm your breathing. “Here,” Blair said breathlessly. “Wear this.” She threw a pair of tight, high waisted blue denim shorts at you, a pair that you had bought once and quickly forgot about. Which was a shame, because these shorts in particular had two star-shaped cutouts filled in with red fabric on the ass.

You paled a little, thinking about what would happen if Mason had seen these shorts. “You broke up with him,” the little voice in your head chided. “Who gives a shit what Mason would’ve thought. You’d look hot.” So you grabbed them and a black tank top, changing quickly before Blair wrangled you into getting your makeup done.

The little voice in your head had been right, you did look hot. You could feel eyes on you from the moment you and Blair walked into the Hard Deck and while you wanted to run and hide, the thought of proving Mason wrong kept you motivated to at least have some semblance of fun. And that’s exactly what you did. You found yourself chatting up at the bar with another aviator who’d introduced himself as Fanboy. “You look familiar,” he’d said when he came up to the bar to buy another round for his group in the back of the room.

“She used to come here with her ex-boyfriend,” Blair chimed in, shooting you a wink before she slipped away to join the crowd around what looked like an intense darts game.

Fanboy - Mickey - had paused a little at her words before turning back to you. He’d asked you about your job, seeming very interested when you took the time to explain what you did. It was one of the best conversations you’d had in a while, both parties very interested in what the other had to say.

You didn’t know how long you’d been chatting when a dark haired woman in jeans and a plain t-shirt appeared by Mickey’s side. “So this is where our drinks went,” she teased, watching you both flush. “Why don’t you invite her over to the table, that way Jake stops whining about a pretty redhead picking Javy over him.”

He turned back to you. “Did you want to come hang with the rest of the group?” You must have hesitated because he quickly backtracked. “Or I can go run these over to them and I’ll come back.”

“No, it’s fine. Lead the way,” you told him, grabbing your drink. “Who picked this song?” You mumbled under your breath, wrinkling your nose at the Motley Crüe song blaring out of the juke box set against the side of the bar.

The woman snorted. “That would be Jake. Tall, blonde, dumb as he is tall. I’m sure you know the type.”

Biting back a laugh, you nodded. “Though if he’s a pilot like most of the people here, he can’t be that dumb.”

“Only when it comes to emotions.”

Ahh. One of those. You wove through the crowd, dodging groups of college aged girls all trying their hand at snaring a Navy man for a night.

Mickey stopped, dropping the drinks on a table nearby. “Finally! What took you so long, Nerd-Boy?” A tall Black man chided teasingly.

“Shut it, Lay-Back,” Mickey quipped back and you had to bite your cheek to hide your laugh at the banter that erupted on your arrival. “I was preoccupied.”

The woman behind you snagged a beer and flopped onto a stool near the edge of the pool table. “Guys come on. If you keep this up, he’ll never be post-occupied.”

“Nix c’mon!”

“That was awful.”

You watched their joking with interest, keen on figuring out their dynamic. No one seemed to act better than anyone else, namely the pilots who you learned were Phoenix, Payback, Coyote (or Javy to Blair who was leaning against his chest), and then Hangman AKA the ‘dumb as he is tall’ Jake. It was refreshing to see a group of people who had the same job as Nathan and his asshole friends, but who were the most welcoming people you’d met in a while.

“So,” Payback said, turning the conversation away from that morning’s hop. “What possessed you to follow Fanboy of all people?”

You swallowed harshly, feeling their attention turn to you. “He actually asked me questions about myself rather than try and slide into my shorts for a night.”

A few “ooohs” rose out of the crowd, the pilots around you chuckling at how quickly you’d lambasted Payback for his bad question. You just shrugged and took a sip of your drink, ignoring the little whoop Blair had let out.

“Well, well, well,” Jake suddenly said, smirking at something behind you. “Looks like Birdbrain finally decided to grace us with his presence.”

You turned and nearly gasped. The man behind you gave you a crooked smile before replying. “I was a little busy.”

“Rooster,” you breathed, finding yourself suddenly very shy. He looked the same as he did the night you had met, maybe better because now you were single, but regardless. “Hi.”

“Hey.” He was watching you closely, brown eyes flicking back and forth over you as you averted your eyes. “Haven’t seen you around lately. Everything okay?”

You nodded, meeting his eyes and promptly feeling your face turn a brilliant red under his gaze. “Yeah uh… I’ve been busy at work.”

Bradley moved to stand beside you, grabbing the lone bottle on the counter and taking a swig. “You’re a nurse, right? Long shifts?”

“Something like that,” you mumbled, narrowing your eyes at Blair who was making a kissy face in your direction. “Just had a lot on my mind lately, plus crowds…”

“...aren’t your thing,” he finished for you, laughing at your reaction to the woman under Javy’s arm.

Your eyes shot up to meet his, your mouth falling agape at his words. “You remembered.”

“That I did, sweetheart.”

A flush spread up your neck. Somehow it had been easier to flirt when you weren’t single and now you felt like a goldfish that someone had plucked out of the water. Completely out of your element and you felt like dying at your uncertainty. “Lucky me,” you breathed, sipping your drink. “A man like you remembering little ole me? That never happens.”

“How could I not, sweetheart?” The grin on Bradley’s face sent butterflies racing through your stomach, the charm just radiating off of him. “You made quite the impression.”

You gave him a flat look. “My social awkwardness was enough to catch your eye? Nice try, Bradley, but I’m not buying it,” you replied teasingly, watching his eyes light up. “That poor attempt at a line doesn’t work on me anyways.”

“Who said it was a line?”

A loud smacking noise had you and Bradley jolting away from one another, suddenly becoming aware of the fact that there were other people in the room besides the two of you. “Finally!” Phoenix said, rolling her eyes. “There are other people here besides you two, ya know.”

“Sorry…”

“Sorry Nix. Couldn’t help myself,” Bradley said, sheepishly. A hand came up to tuck his sunglasses in the collar of his shirt and you couldn’t help but smile. He hadn’t changed from your memory. Still kind, still handsome as all hell, still dressed in a loud Hawaiian shirt. This one had white and orangey coloured flowers against a creamy light yellow fabric. But it was him and you hadn’t been able to stop thinking about him since you’d met.

Despite that, you let yourself get dragged into a game of pool, pairing up with Phoenix against Bob and Mickey. You hadn’t played in a long time, so you weren’t great, but everyone else was sort of around your skill level so it wound up being more fun than you’d thought. “Okay, so after that show of mediocrity, anything will look good,” Hangman said loudly, clapping his hands and snatching a pool cue off the wall.

“Just means that we set the average. If you lose, you’ll land among us,” you snarked back, grinning widely at him. “No pressure.”

A hand on your lower back startled you and you spun around only to come face to chest with Bradley’s sunglasses. “Hear that? You got a lot riding on this one, Bagman,” he jeered over your head, shooting you a wink after. “You wanna take him on with me?”

“I’m not…”

“It’s just for fun, sweetheart. No pressure at all.”

“Sure. Why not?”

And you were off. Round and round the table you went, watching Jake and Bradley duke it out over the velvety table. But when it finally came time for your turn, you had to lean over the table far more than you had initially wanted, giving the pilots and Bradley behind you a good look at your ass in those shorts. You could feel his gaze on the red stars neatly framing your hips in the colour, and you preened a little.

A solid hit with your cue, you stood up, watching the white ball shoot towards a purpley coloured one and send it careening into the pocket. “Yes!” you whooped, jumping up in your excitement, bumping into Bradley behind you. “Oops.”

“All good sweetheart. No harm done,” the lazy smile on his face had your knees buckling and you quickly grabbed the pool table, using it to steady yourself. “Besides, I’m tougher than I look.”

You laughed, the sound mixing with the general din of the bar and you watched as Bradley’s eyes filled with the same mirth that was bubbling inside of you. “Self-burns are rare to witness,” you teased, grinning wider at the look that skittered across his face.

“I walked right into that, didn’t I?”

“Yup.”

He groaned jokingly, his lips twisting into a devilish smile that sent heat racing down your spine to pool between your thighs. “Damn it. I was hoping to play it cool.”

You opened your mouth to reply, but shut it quickly when Jake started complaining about the pair of you taking too long and Bradley stepped up to play his turn. You watched the two of them keep at it, playing as though neither you nor Mickey were there. “I’m going to grab another drink, did you want anything?” you asked, setting your cue against the wall.

“Nah, I’m good. Before you go, I’m guessing you’re more into him than me?” Mickey saw the surprise cascade over your face. “It’s okay! I just want to know if I should get my hopes up.”

“I’m sorry Mickey, that really wasn’t fair to you at all,” you apologized. “I do have another friend that I think would be perfect for you, but I am sorry for wasting your night.”

“Hey. It’s fine. Seriously,” he added when catching your unconvinced look. “I still won. Rooster finally shut up about the pretty girl he met a while back that was dating this douche we have to work with. You did us all a favour.” Mickey gave you a kind smile, before turning back to the game and leaving you standing in shock at how calmly he’d handled the rejection.

But you didn’t dwell on it long. You needed another drink; the first one long gone by now. Penny had just handed it over when a voice from behind you caused the hairs on the back of your neck to stand on end. “So this is where I find you, you fucking cunt.”

Only one voice sounded like that and it belonged to your ex.

Fucking Mason.

You groaned, turning around with your new drink in hand. “Can I help you?” A few of the people next to you, two men and a woman dressed in civvies, dropped their own conversation, listening intently on the drama that was sure to unfold. “I was fairly certain I told you not to contact me in any way.”

“You fucking abandoned me at Nuke’s place! Didn’t even have the courtesy to call him!” Mason growled, stepping closer to you. “I had to explain what happened like a fucking loser!” You could smell the alcohol on him. He reeked of it, his sweater wafting vodka-flavoured fumes in your direction each time he moved. Biting your tongue, you shifted in place, keeping your body close to the bar and watching for Nuke or another of Mason’s cronies to make an appearance.

Normally by now, you’d be trying to placate him, telling him not to make a scene and to lower his tone. Tonight however, you couldn’t find it within you to care. If he yelled and threw a tantrum, that was on him, not you. “How is any of that my problem, Mason? You cheated, and had been doing so for months as I later learned. You literally fucked around and found out.”

Mason’s face turned a shade of purple you’d never seen before. There was madness in his eyes and you finally learned why they had called him ‘Cannon’. He was unstable, quick to anger, and once set off, nothing could be taken back. “How can you be so unaffected?! I was the best thing that ever happened to you! No one loved you. If it weren’t for me, you’d still be the same ugly bitch I met two years ago.”

“That’s where you’re wrong, Mason,” you told him calmly. You had no idea if the whole bar had gone quiet; all you could hear was your frantic heartbeat thrumming like a butterfly’s wings. “You were a stepping stone to who I really am. If I meant so little to you, then why not love me and leave me like you did to all those girls you had in between?”

You paused, drawing in a sharp breath and trying to ground yourself in the moment. Trying to force yourself to pause, to centre yourself. “I’ll tell you why. It was never me who needed you. You needed me.” Taking a step forwards, you forced your eyes to meet his own, taking stock of the wildness that raged unhindered in the deep blue of his irises. “Your game wasn’t fun unless I had no idea. You needed me to make you feel good about yourself. By all means, live in your delusion, but let’s not kid ourselves and say that this break up was my fault.”

Mason let out an unintelligible noise, his hand flying out and slapping you. The sound echoed through the room, snapping your head to the side. “You whore!”

It took you not even ten seconds to right yourself and punch him back, your fist slamming into his nose with a sickening crunch. Blood stained your knuckles and you watched his face contort in pain as his nose began to bleed and he let out a shout of pain. “If anyone’s the whore it’s you, Mason. You got laid more times by women other than me so often your body count is higher than a fucking motel bed.”

He lunged for you, anger staining his face a brilliant scarlet that matched your shorts, but was blocked by one of the men who had been standing next to you. Mason’s fist thudded against this man’s arm, shock evident on his face.

A few seconds passed. No one moved. Mason was still held by this other man, who was both taller and wider than him. You stood against the bar watching it all slowly tick down. “5, 4, 3,” you thought to yourself, noticing how some of the men in the room looked twitchy. “2, 1.”

Just as the opening notes of Van Halen’s Jump blared through the jukebox, the man holding Mason swung, clipping him in the jaw and sending him sprawling back into another man, who spilled his drink all over himself. He whirled around, shoving your ex away and yelling at him.

Shouts erupted, fists began flying as the bar dissolved into complete chaos as small fights broke out. People jumped out of the way and you heard a few glasses smash against the floor. You heard Jake’s loud “What the fuck?!” over the din as he waded through the fight, dodging a rogue fist that went for his stomach.

The Navy personnel were trying to stay out of it. The Daggers at the back were standing in barely concealed shock as a girl shrieked like a banshee and came running at you. She grabbed your hair, yanking you away from the bar with a surprisingly strong grip. “Fuck you!” You yelled as you kicked a leg out to trip her.

She fell, hauling you to the ground with her. You landed on top of her, prying your hair from her fist, feeling some strands get ripped out as you tried to stand up. Wrenching yourself from her grasp, you backed up, tucking yourself against the bar once again. You saw Mason get shoved back from a group of men, his hands coming up to swing at his attacker, but fail and get punched in the face for his trouble.

Rooster saw the red flash of your shorts through a hole in the crowd and immediately pushed his way through the people, ignoring Phoenix’s hand trying to hold him back. He couldn’t see you anymore; he saw Cannon swinging wildly nearby and his heart sank, praying that it wasn’t you.

It wasn’t. Thankfully.

His focus was diverted when a punch went wide, slamming into his mid-back and making him stumble forwards a step. Bradley whirled around, glowering at the man, a young pilot on base, until he raised his hands in surrender. “Go home,” he snapped, watching the younger man blink in what looked like fear before backing up against the wall and staying out of the way.

Bradley pushed his way over to where he last saw you, but found nothing. You had vanished and the bodies thudding into one another, smashing glasses, and shouts did nothing to help him find you. He was tall enough to see over most of the crowd, but unfortunately it gave him no advantage in trying to find you. Half the girls in the bar were dressed like you and unless he could see your face or your ass, he would come up empty every time.

“Get the fuck off of me!” You screeched loudly, slamming your hand against a man’s throat when he groped you. He started wheezing, anger in his eyes as he tried to catch his breath, still advancing on you all the while.

A hand grabbed the man’s shoulder and you caught a glimpse of Rooster’s mustached face over his shoulder. “Get lost.”

The man in front of you turned around, eyes widening a little when he saw Bradley behind him. “I was just-”

“I don’t care what you were doing.” The chill in Rooster’s voice sent shivers down your spine and you could see that the man in front of you was scared shitless. “She told you to fuck off.”

Under Bradley’s firm gaze, the other man ducked his head and hurried off into the crowd, tossing a half-hearted apology your way. “What the fuck happened?”

You opened your mouth to reply but quickly shut it having seen Mason run up behind him, a beer glass in hand. “Behind you!”

He turned quickly, catching a glimpse of Mason who froze in his tracks. You couldn’t see what happened next, but you did see Bradley’s head snap to the side and next thing you knew Mason hit the floor with a crash. “Fucking coward. Starting a bar fight because you cheated on your girlfriend and she called you out.”

He crouched down, mouth close to Mason’s face and hissed out “You’re fucking lucky that there’s witnesses and that your ex-girlfriend is watching this whole thing, otherwise I’d make sure you looked as small as you made her feel.”

Unable to watch more of this, you stepped forwards, letting your hand fall on his shoulder. Bradley’s head turned, his eyes softening as he took you in. “He’s not worth it,” you mumbled, barely audible over the noise in the bar. “Let Penny ring the bell and let him get his ass beat tomorrow in training.”

Bradley stood, towering over Mason before kicking his leg and turning to pull you into his arms. “You okay?”

“Ish… my cheek hurts. Fucker got me good.” You cast a look over his face, smoothing your thumb over his jaw, prodding gently at the red mark that had started blooming from Mason’s fist. “Are you okay?”

“Fine now.” He brushed your concern off, a small smile beginning to form as he saw the concern in your eyes. Even after a bar fight that you had inadvertently started, you were still concerned for him. You had faced your ex head on and he’d laid his hands on you. Sure you’d hit him back, but he’d still drawn blood when your teeth had smacked against your lip.

But here you were, in his arms, asking him to follow your finger so you knew that he really was okay. Cannon hadn’t deserved you and Bradley had thought of no one but you since you’d agreed to chat with him that one night months ago.

“Sweetheart, I’m fine,” he finally said, catching your hand in his own. “Trust me. I wouldn’t lie to you.”

Your heart stuttered from its steady pace. The sincerity in his brown eyes gave you pause because you couldn’t believe that this man, another Navy pilot, could be so different from your ex. “I know,” you whispered. “But that doesn’t change the fact that I nearly had to call an ambulance because my fuckhead of an ex tried to knock you out.”

Bradley snorted, shaking his head at your scathing words. “I liked ‘fuckhead’ better than Cannon anyways.”

“Seriously? That’s what you took away from this?”

He shot you a lopsided grin, the end of his mustache tilting a little with the expression. “I’m pretty sure I got you in all of this, sweetheart. Best prize I ever won.”

“Who says you won me?” You shot back, trying to hide the smile that threatened to break free under the teasing look Bradley was giving you. You had found yourself doing that all night, every comment, each passing look you’d been given had filled you up with giddiness.

“I do, if you’ll have me, that is.” A hand brushed hair over your ear and you couldn’t contain the shiver that the gesture elicited. “If not, then I hope you let me try and win you over.”

You couldn’t hide the smile that erupted at his words. The bar fight continued in small pockets around the room, but right now with Bradley’s hand resting just above the swell of your ass as you curled into his side, you found a peace you didn’t know you needed.

Looking up, you pressed a soft kiss to the corner of his mouth. “All good things require a leap of faith, right?” He nodded, smiling down at you. “Might as well jump if you’re there to catch me.”

===

A/N: So there we have it! Rocktober is checked off my WIP list now! Now to make sure I don’t start anything new 😂 Big thank you to @startrekfangirl2233 for punching the shit out of my imposter syndrome and being the best beta-reader a girl could ask for!

Tagging: @roosterforme @startrekfangirl2233 @cassiemitchell @sarahsmi13s @cherrycola27 @multifandomlover4life @horseshoegirl @bobgasm @thedroneranger @beyondthesefourwalls @dcyllom

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[lunarspiral1127]

So, I watched the first two episodes of X-Men 97 and here are my thoughts.

*SPOILERS*

Pros:

Morph got to do some more cool stuff during the fight scenes.

Gambit in a crop top....what? He's hot and a bad@$$.

Speaking of Gambit, he and Rogue have a lot of scenes together, which is great. I do ship them together, and I just want them to be together already.

I freaking love Storm in this. She's one of my favorite X-Men characters. Her voice after killed it again, we see her leadership and compassion as a team and family member, and she's still a freaking bad@$$. She turned some patches of sand into glass with her lightning!! However, something happens to her which I'll get to in a sec.

Magneto's UN trial. It was well done, and Magneto's speeches were pretty good. Then there's what he did after X-Cutioner tried to shoot him. Like, what the hell, show? Are you trying to make me switch to Team Magneto? Seriously, he was really good so far in the show.

Cons:

Now, I'm never a fan of love triangles unless done right. It was bad enough that we still have that with Jean, Cyclops, and Wolverine (especially since Wolverine and Jean is one-sided), which I thought Logan moved on from that but I guess not, we may get another one with Gambit, Rogue, and MAGNETO! Okay, look, I get the Rogue and Magneto thing was in the comics, but since when was that ever established in the animated series?! I never recalled anything going on between the two in the 90s show nor were there any signs of them used to being an item. If this was to give tension for the Rogue/Gambit romance, there are other ways of doing that. Yeah, it was just confusing and weird to me.

Storm losing her powers. This is gonna be a con for now cause I know she'll get her powers back somehow. But seeing her get shot and losing her powers made me lose my s**t cause how dare you do that to her?! Man, I was hoping Magneto was gonna kill X-Cutioner, and frankly, I wouldn't blame him if he did. Not after what he did to Storm. It sucks even more when you got to see how great she is as coleader, sister, and teammate.

And, now, the questions

Is it gonna be explained why Morph has the changeling look instead of his old one from the previous show?

When did Bishop come back? I like him, but I thought he went back to his timeline.

Was expecting Madeline Pryer to show up, but which one is she? Was there a switcheroo and if so, when did that happen?

Does Magneto have an ulterior motive?

When the hell was Magneto and Rogue a thing in the show?!

Will Logan ever move on from Jean?

Why Sunspot and Jubilee? Cause I wasn't feeling it. Dunno why, maybe it's because of how the Sunspot character acts cause I didn't like him much. Also, was that it from the character?

Why doesn't Rogue take one of those collars to nullify her powers so she can be able to touch someone without harming them?

And, that's all I can think of at the top of my head. Liking the show so far. Hopefully, it doesn't fumble.

[hatkuu]

omg omg loving sex w kylar after he gets jealous seeing you talk to someone else and you remind him youre not going anywhere youre all his <333

oopsies sorry this took so so long nonnie!! i am wading my way through so many good asks lately hehe i vow to finish them all soon!!

tw: gen! reader (no specific genitals mentioned), m! kylar, pregnancy talk, breeding kink, make up smut, mention of starting a family with kylar...

○○○

"Kylar?"

Your hand trails down his cheek, fingers tracing against acne-scarred flesh as your thighs wrap around his bony mid-section.

Even as you touch him so lovingly - with so much reverence that he has to bite back a jaw-straining smile - Kylar refuses to forget what you pulled today. You pause, surprised that your boyfriend isn't instantaneously melting in your hands. Eyes squinted in confusion instead of your previous sultry expression, you pull back to meet your boyfriend face to face.

Kylar's lips rest in a heavy pout, brows creased with ire as his eyes stare back at your own half-closed ones. He huffs, loudly, obviously upset with you over something or someone you interacted with today. His pout doesn't falter, not even as you fight back a giggle - subsequently, as Kylar continues to uphold his seething - you burst out into a scene of hideously contagious laughter.

You wheeze, falling backward onto the headboard of Kylar's bed as he mumbles, turning his head away to stare at the wall to the left of you.

"Don't be like that, baby!"

Your hands quickly redirect Kylar, quickly pressing a laugh-sweetened kiss against his sour ones. "If I did something, you should tell me instead of just getting upset, okay?" Despite the seriousness of your question, you don't stop pressing quick pecks against his lips. Kylar's pout falters for only a second; and that's when you know you have him.

"Who's bed am I in right now, hmm?"

Kylar's face flushes heavy and his pout quickly morphs into a shy smile. His breath hitches, eagerly tugging you back into his lap. "M-Mine," He breathes out shakily, always so eager to respond to you. "Y-You're in my bed."

"Mhm," you murmur lowly, pressing a much firmer kiss to Kylar's lips to show your appreciation at his obedient answer. "I'm in Kylar's bed right now," You smile against his skin as Kylar laves at your own, tasting you rather than kissing. He's desperate for you, so appreciative of your cooed out affirmations of his position as your lover.

"So Kylar shouldn't get jealous over people who don't matter—"

Kylar quickly pulls back, gripping at your shoulders with a concerning intensity.

"But—"

"Nooo," You tease, unphased by the jealousy behind his eyes - the same jealousy that has him pulling knives on people - continuing your loving carresses despite the concerning situation. "I'm your's - and if you're so jealous—"

"'m not jealous—"

"—maybe you should make everyone know I'm your spouse, hmm?"

"M-My spouse," Kylar shudders, his grip loosening as his gaze morphs from jealousy into pure, unadulterated lust. "Y-Yeah," He groans, face falling into your neck, lapping and biting at the tender flesh on your collarbones. "My spouse..." He talks to himself more than to you, too busy marking your skin with an artwork of purple, splotched hickeys.

"We'll get married and have so many babies," You whisper, purposefully riling him up with the mention of starting a family, something that Kylar rambles about daily - something that he'd do anything for.

"Y-Yeah, I-I'll give you as many as y-you want," Kylar shivers, quickly pulling your underwear to the side to prod at your entrance with his fingers. You whine at the cold touch and Kylar presses an apologetic kiss to the side of your throat, sucking at the skin as he does so.

"Two sounds nice."

Kylar pulls back, smiling so wide at you that your own expression morphs into one that mirrors his. You gasp, back arching as Kylar's fingers slip inside of you. He doesn't break eye contact, committing your face to memory as you quiver just from his fingers.

"M-Maybe we'll even end up with m-more than just two!"

You squeak as Kylar's arousal presses hot and heavy against your bare thighs, twitching in excitement at the prospect of breeding you and having so many babies with you—

"Ah— You'll j-just have to be thorough, won't you?"

Kylar nods eagerly, pulling down his briefs to press his cock against your entrance, dragging it along the sensitive skin, relishing the twitching heat beneath him. He giggles as you arch your back further, aching to feel him inside you.

"I promise. I'll fuck you so good that— that you'll have no choice but to get pregnant a-and be mine forever— Y-yeah, I promise, m-my love."

You know for a fact that Kylar would never break a promise to you - especially not a promise as special as this one.

[streamingcolors-gvf]

Skin Deep - Part 10.1

Pairing: Josh Kiszka x f!reader x Jake Kiszka, Josh Kiszka x f!reader x male OC

Word Count: 8.6k

A/N: This chapter is going to be broken into three separate parts for the sake of keeping it from being too long and to have consistent updates.

**While this part doesn’t have explicit queer sex scenes, it does set up for it for following parts. If this is something that does not interest you, this is your warning for the entirely of chapter 10. **

I’m quite anxious about this one you guys. I love this OC so much and I’m stoked to share and introduce him to this universe. It’s not perfectly edited so be gentle for that.

As always, I appreciate all the love, support and feedback yall give me ❤️

Warnings: cursing, alcohol consumption, tobacco use, LGBTQ dynamic between characters/themes

Masterpost, Part 9 2/2

It’s late evening — way past the regular business hours, so you have to use the spare key the boys made for you and enter through the back door of the shop. You clumsily shuffle through the hallway due to your hands being full from the bags of carry-out you picked up on the way over. 

Sam must’ve already cleaned up and headed out based on the strong odor of glass cleaner assaulting your nose as soon as you walk through the curtains. Music is playing upstairs, which is something you’ve come to expect whenever there’s a human presence in this place. What takes you by surprise is the amount of boisterous laughter cutting through it.  

You wrestle, adjust your loot, and begin making your ascent on the staircase. Jake is in his usual spot when he’s not with a client, hunched over at his desk working on a design, leaving Josh and the man he is tattooing as the culprits for all the noise. Normally, you wouldn’t bat an eye at whoever happens to be in the chair after the last incident, but something about him seems different.

What you can pick up on during the short walk from the stairs toward Jake’s desk is Josh’s comfort with him.  He’s not putting on the customer service mask, laughing at bad jokes, and pretending to be interested in dull stories. He’s engaging in everything the man has to say, maybe borderline flirtatious from what you can already see. 

You step behind Jake, but he doesn’t hear you approach. You lean over and spot the white wireless earbuds he’s wearing and gently tap him on the shoulder, making him jolt a little. He stops drawing to pluck the left one from his ear and turns to face you.

“Hey,” he mumbles softly with a detectable exhaustion weighing on his voice. 

“Hey,” you greet back, hoping that your upbeat tone will help spark some energy in him. After setting the heavy bags of carry-out on the empty space on his desk to free your hands, you begin to massage his shoulders. He doesn’t put up a fight, and instantly drops his pen on the table to lean back into your touch.

“Fuck that feels good,” he groans and rolls his head as you knead the tight knots tangled within his sore muscles. 

“Long day?”

He releases a heavy sigh as you work out the tension in his upper back. “Yeah, and of course my last appointment was a fucking nightmare.”

He sucks in a sharp breath of pain as your thumbs roll over him. He’s stiff from his bad posture, but you don’t mean to cause him more discomfort. You relax your pressure and start rubbing the nape of his neck while you ask, “What happened?”

“Just the typical asshole that wants to micromanage the entire thing gets pissy about the price claiming he can get it cheaper somewhere else, and then whines and cries during the entire thing.”

You slip your hands down his chest as you lower yourself into an embrace and bring your lips to his cheek. “I’m sorry, babe. Sounds like you could use a drink and a hot shower.”

He huffs a dry laugh but leans into you while rubbing his fingers along your forearm. “I’m okay.” He gestures to Josh and his client as he continues, “Been trying to unwind for the past hour but with these fucking dickheads it’s almost impossible.”

“Who is that by the way?”

“Oh, that’s Kai, one of Josh’s friends with ben—“ He quickly catches himself and clears his throat,  “Uhh… I mean he’s a good friend of Josh.”

You try to not take anything he says seriously given the source, but what he’s blurted out takes you by surprise. Your mind isn’t playing tricks because you know you heard him correctly, but you ask anyway, “A friend with what?”

He breaks from your hold and pushes away from the desk while turning to face you in his chair. You’ve caught him and now all he can do is deflect. He shakes his head and waves a hand at you. “No, no, no. Just because you bring me food doesn’t mean you get to pull gossip from me.” Your smile and crossed arms threaten him but he stands his ground. “Go find shit out for yourself. Go on. Shoo!”

You scoff, “Are you fucking serious?”

He takes his food from the bag and starts to set up a spot to open it. “Yes. Now leave me to eat in peace, woman.”

You give him a heavy roll of your eyes even though he’s no longer looking at you and take Josh’s food with you on your short walk over to his area of the shop. He immediately senses your presence and finishes the line before lifting his head in your direction. 

“Hey, baby.” He breaks away from his conversation and looks at you with an infectious smile, and without control, you can’t help but smile back. 

As you step closer, you’re able to get a better look at his friend stretched out along the table. When you first walked in, you could see from a distance that he was covered in tattoos, but now you’re even more surprised that Josh was able to find a free space for another one.

“She gets to be called baby and I don’t?” The suspected Kai scoffs as he combs his inked fingers through his loose, raven-black curls that sit right at the nape of his neck. The calm cadence paired with the crackle of his raspy voice puts off an energy you can’t place. 

Josh giggles as he pulls another line across Kai’s stomach. “Well, for one, when you do the things she does with me, you earn being called baby.” 

He chuckles as if completely unphased by the needle penetrating his skin. “Where can I sign up for that?”

So they are flirting. 

You set Josh’s food down on a table and look over his shoulder to see the piece he’s working on. It’s a hand-sized pair of traditional-style, black, and gray scorpions on each side of Kai’s lower stomach between his hips. With the left side finished and wiped down, the right side is nearly complete. You note the bald spot on Kai’s stomach and imagine the process of Josh having to shave him with a careful hand. 

“How much does something like this cost? With all the detail and everything?” 

Josh answers without a second thought, “For him? No charge.”

“Really?” You hum. 

You flick your eyes up from Josh’s moving hand to catch Kai staring directly at you. His are unwavering, holding a rare intensity from the striking shade of green of his irises —  like polished stones of jade framed by dark lashes. They draw you in, locking you away in their gaze. A part of you feels compelled to break away, as if suddenly too embarrassed to look at him. You don’t, however. You allow your eyes to wander across the many body modifications of his face; the little tattoo on his right cheek, the silver septum ring beneath his nose, the pair of dimple piercings, and the two rings through each side of his bottom lip. 

As he studies you, his lips begin to slowly curl up over his teeth, revealing a perfectly devious smile that does nothing but make you weak and flustered. It’s emphasized but the barbells in his cheeks. Charming in the same way as Josh’s, although, with a certain feral quality that causes your thoughts to wander. With eyes staying focused on you, he directs his words to Josh, “How many times do I have to keep telling you that I don’t need free work? Let me pay you this time.”

It gives you enough of a chance to break your focus from him to finally look away. Josh mutters under his breath as he stretches to dip the needle into the ink, “No chance.”

“I’m Kai, by the way,” he introduces himself with an outstretched hand, ignoring Josh’s remark completely. You stumble forward to take it, feeling his soft, yet chilled fingers wrap around yours. You give your name, making his smile grow even larger.  “How do you know Josh?”

You try to convince yourself that he’s simply making light conversation and being polite. That the burning look in his eyes, the tight hold he has on your hand, even down to the drawl of his voice doesn’t mean that there are deeper intentions behind his interest in you. 

You’re the one to make the first move in pulling a hand away, breaking free from his grasp. You shift, straightening to stand with heat prickling the back of your neck and forehead. “Oh…well, I met Josh when I came here to get my thigh piece done by Jake.”

Kai pries his eyes away from you to shoot Josh a judgemental stare. Josh returns the glare and huffs with a defensive raise of his hands, “What?!”

He chuckles as he slips his hand beneath his head to prop himself up on the table.“So that’s why I haven’t heard from you.” He teases with a lilt in his voice and winks at you before adding, “Josh, you sly dog.”

Josh responds by smacking Kai across the arm and you have to hold back the laugh that tries to escape your mouth. 

“Ouch! What did I say?!” He cries out while rubbing his arm dramatically despite the cheeky smile plastered across his face. 

You jump in intending to change the subject, even if your curiosity serves as the driving force to your question. “So how do you guys know each other?”

“Oh, Josh and I go way back,” Kai answers with an exaggerated sigh. “I ‘ve been getting work done for years now…just can’t stay away from all the great prices and wonderful customer service.”

As they stare at each other for a few beats of time, you watch the blush pinken Josh’s cheeks before he forces himself to refocus on his work. “He just keeps coming back no matter how many times we kick him out.”

Kai quips back, “I’m a stray. I’ll hang around if you keep feeding me.” Josh laughs as he works, wiping away the excess ink from his skin after each skillfully placed line. It’s starting to feel like you're interrupting their moment at this point, so you turn to leave until he stops you. “So what’s your Twitter handle?”

Before you have a chance to respond, Josh cuts in with an aggressive shake of his head, “Oh no, she doesn’t do that, Kai.”

Confusion twists the features of his face, matching the expression you’re wearing. “Do what?” 

While a mischievous glimmer flashes in Kai’s eyes, Josh slowly lifts his head to you, showing a look of worry.

Kai adjusts as if he’s preparing to tell you the biggest piece of gossip, answering in a demeanor that borders on too relaxed, “Create content.”

While the words process in your brain, Josh’s face drops in disappointment. If his hands weren’t gloved, he would’ve smacked his hand to his face for added effect. 

Josh’s reaction causes everything to click into place, making you understand the implication. He means adult content. Your face prickles with heat from your mind running with the thought of it. “Oh...oh.”

Josh braces for your discomfort while Kai continues the small talk as if nothing happened. “So what do you do?”

The question is innocent enough, but the look behind it says otherwise. You laugh nervously, glancing down at Josh to save you.“Nothing that interesting I’m afraid. I’m a barista down at the coffee shop.”

“Good money there?”

“Kai…” Josh scolds softly. “Don’t listen to him, baby.”

He glances up, giving you an expression as if to communicate with you telepathically. Despite the warning, you decide to answer anyway, “Enough to pay my bills I guess. Why?”

Kai flashes another smile and shrugs. “Just curious.”

Before the conversation has a chance of taking another turn,  Josh butts in, “Oh would you look at that! You’re all done.”

Disappointment flashes across his face before he looks down at the new additions on his stomach. “Already?” 

Taking the cue, you grab your food and get comfortable on the couch while Josh starts the cleanup process and takes pictures of his work. You do your best to mind your business, keeping your focus on the takeout container balanced on your lap, but you see Kai carefully stand to his feet and walk past you in your periphery. He stops in front of the full-length mirror where you have stood many times before. He’s kept his shirt lifted away from the fresh tattoo with his pants riding so low you can faintly see the patch of his pubic hair peeking above the band of pants. You’re gawking now, staring at how he twists his body and flexes his toned stomach in the mirror. You’re quick to note how his build is similar to Josh’s. He’s lean but with a bit more muscle and a few inches added to his height. 

“These look fucking sick, Josh,” Kai calls over his shoulder as he admires the finished pair of scorpions. “Good choice on the placement.”

Josh chuckles, tearing the cling wrap away from the table. “I’m glad you like it.”

You check on Jake to see that he’s still at his desk, munching away on his food with his earpods nestled inside his ears. He glances up and shoots Kai an annoyed look, followed by a heavy roll of his eyes before taking another bite of his food. 

Josh pulls your attention away with a dramatic huff, “Are you done staring at yourself or can I bandage you up already?”

Kai turns, revealing an exceptionally cocky grin, “Why? Do you wanna stare instead?” 

“No, you idiot. I’m fucking starving and my food is getting cold.”

Amused, he takes his time making his way back to Josh, but you forget to look away, letting him catch you red-handed. He smiles, biting into his bottom lip with a wink sent only to you. You’d normally be irritated by a man with an ego too big for this room. But this one feels different. With a level of confidence that borders on arrogance, you believe it suits him — sex appeal radiating from every part of him. And with a single look, you find your heart racing. 

Standing behind Josh while he preps the bandages, Kai ruffles his hair, teasing him, “You’re so cute when you’re mad.”    

“Cut it out,” Josh grumbles, but you can see the smile spreading as he half-spins in his chair, reaching back for him. “Get over here.”

Kai steps around to face him, placing a leg between Josh’s open ones. A position where if he were to sit, he would be balanced right on his thigh. He looks down, watching as Josh peels the backing of the Saniderm and carefully places it on his skin. You recognize the gentle touch he’s using — the same one he’s used on you. His focus on Kai’s lower stomach is locked, brows furrowed in concentration while being mindful of his soreness as he presses the clear bandage down, even having to pull Kai’s waistband slightly to get the bottom edge to stick properly. Their proximity makes you blush — a closeness blurring the line of professionalism.

Kai extends a hand to slip his fingers through Josh’s curls again, but it’s far from taunting. He rests it there on the crown of his head, tugging his attention upward by the roots of his hair. You’ve seen that look in his eyes before — you know that look. You just can’t be sure who you’re more envious of, him or Kai. But seeing Josh cast under the same spell excites you, and makes that aching feeling throb between your legs. 

You see the harsh swallow in Josh’s throat before Kai lets his hand fall to his side. Josh's eyes quickly dart away and find yours. Realizing you caught the moment, guilt twists his features until you give him a raised wiggle of your brows. 

He tries his best to bite back the bashful smile, but you can see that he’s visibly flustered. After clearing his throat, he rushes to clean up the leftover trash from the bandages to keep busy. The tension between them is palpable, thicker than the humid mid-summer air outside. Satisfied with himself, Kai drops his shirt and pulls his phone out of his pocket. 

Josh rambles about the aftercare, telling him when he can remove his bandages and how to properly wash as if this was the man’s first tattoo. Kai nods along anyway, walking in your direction toward the center of the room. Josh stands from his chair to follow but quickly pulls at his pants to readjust himself. At first, you think your eyes are deceiving you, but there’s no mistaking the significant bulge he’s desperately trying to hide. 

 “Oh shit!” Josh calls out, tossing the gloves that he’s peeled off his hands into the trash can. “Before I forget again, would you guys like to come out and see us next weekend?”

Kai answers immediately, “Absolutely.”

However, you don’t answer with nearly the same amount of certainty, asking a question of your own, “Both of us?” 

You can feel Kai’s eyes on you in an instant. He’s observant of you —  you’ll give him that. It makes you highly aware of yourself, mindful to not give away too much. It’s not that you don’t want to see Josh, it’s the thought of seeing Kai again. The dynamic between them has been a massive curveball, and you’re scrambling to catch up on processing it all. 

“Yeah of course!” Josh doesn’t seem to catch it, sliding onto the arm of the leather couch. He’s distracted, beaming with excitement while trying to act casual. “We finally booked another gig. You’ll come, right?”

There’s that smile of his that you sell you on anything. He’s put you right on the spot. He could’ve just asked you directly if you wanted to come, or even waited until the day knowing full well that you’d show up that evening regardless. “Yeah, I can make it.”

Kai walks around the other side of the couch and picks up a tote you didn’t realize was sitting there. “Same place?”

Josh’s smile grows even bigger. “Hell yeah.”

“Perfect. Just text me the details. Unfortunately, I gotta run. I’m already late for a meeting.” You sense him step behind you to get to Josh and reach in for a hug. As he wraps his arms around him, he kisses him on the cheek. “Thanks for the awesome tat. Always a pleasure.”

“Of course, anytime,” Josh sighs from the praise, holding onto the embrace until Kai pulls away. 

The weight of his hand on your shoulder surprises you, making you jump slightly. He squeezes you through your shirt as he leans down over the back of the couch. Your consciousness dives, swimming in his cologne that must be placed perfectly on his pulse points. It’s crisp, cool to the nose with its fresh floral notes that finish off with a comforting woodsy scent — like the summer rainstorms you’ve been romanticizing lately. 

He keeps his voice low, so close to your ear that you swear you can feel his lips move against it, “It was definitely a pleasure meeting you.” His chilled touch sends a shiver down your spine as his fingers slide up the soft curve of your neck. “Can’t wait to see you again.”

Your body reacts before your mind can, making your breath feel heavy in your chest. The distant sound of a throat clearing disrupts him, making you both look up to see Jake staring directly at you. 

Kai gives you a final squeeze before pushing away from you. “Jake! How could I forget you?”

The ghost of his fingers on your neck haunts you as he crosses the room. You replay the touch, and the words spoken in your ear while your eyes follow him and the unbothered swagger of his stride. Jake is just finishing the last of his meal, keeping his head down like a dog guarding a prized bone. “Leaving so soon?”

Josh, still sitting beside you on the arm of the couch, gives you a worried look, but you both watch as the interaction unfolds together. Kai continues his stroll behind him, daring to walk right into the cage of the beast. Metaphorically poking as if the blatant sarcasm was fuel to his antics. “Aww. You don’t have to put on such a brave face. It’s okay to miss me.”

Jake grumbles, letting his distaste coat the words between his teeth as he gives him a second warning, “The day I never see you again can’t come soon enough.”

Kai stops behind him and sticks out a dramatic bottom lip while slapping his hands to his heart. With Jake’s back to him, it’s a theatrical display meant for Josh and you to see. “Such sweet words coming from you.” The fake pout forms into a mischievous grin as he wraps his arms around Jake’s rigid shoulders. “Bring it in, big guy.”

You watch him take in a heavy breath through flared nostrils to calm himself. “Kai…I swear to god, if you don’t get your fucking hands off me I’ll drag you out of here myself.”

Kai takes the threat as a challenge, nestling his cheek against Jake’s even tighter in an effort to taunt him. “Now you’re getting me excited.” Without a word, Jake’s lip hooks into a snarl just as he tries to grab him, making him jump back out of reach. “I’m going! I’m going!”

Kai, successful at annoying him, skips back with his hands raised in defense, filling the room with a ringing cackle. Once he reaches the top of the stairs, he spins, giving a final goodbye wave before leaving. “It was lovely seeing you again.”

You both give him a nod and wave in return, listening as the echoes of footsteps fade out down the steps, leaving you to sit in the hushed silence between the three of you. Jake’s foul mood becomes more evident than ever as he angrily shoves his earbuds back in without saying a word to either of you. 

“Alright, I gotta finish cleaning up and then we can head out of here,” Josh groans as he slides off the couch, paying no mind to his twin. His back must be aching from being hunched over for hours but you swear you can see the lively skip in his step as he makes his way back to his station. 

If that fluttery, “butterflies in your stomach” feeling was written in the dictionary, Josh’s picture would be right next to it. He can barely control the smile on his face wanting to break free or the blush pinkening the apples of his cheeks. Wanting to feel the energy up close, you lean down and wrap your arms around his shoulders, interrupting his cleaning. He welcomes it, holding you close with his hands on your arms while he melts into the embrace. You kiss him, feeling the warmth of his flushed skin against your lips. “I can see why you like him.”

Like a hormonal teenager confessing who they’ve been secretly pining over, a bashful smile spreads on his face. “I do not. He’s just a friend,” he defends weakly before the words break apart into laughter.

“Oh please!” you huff, letting your own smile show. You break away, allowing him to spin on his chair so he can face you. “That’s the biggest crush I’ve ever seen with my own eyeballs, Josh.”

Your eyes finally meet as you sit on the cleared-off tattoo table. There’s a glimmer in them as they search the thoughts behind yours. You can’t deny that this is new for both of you, but he’s still cautious about how to approach it. He scooches toward you, bringing himself between your bent knees. He rubs his thumb across your kneecap and starts to trace patterns across the denim.“Yeah…well, a crush that doesn’t really mean anything.”

You don’t need to ask to know what his apprehension is about. He doesn’t want to spark the same jealousy in you again after what happened that one day with the blonde. As much as you can admittedly say it wasn’t your proudest moment, there’s more security in whatever this is between you now than there was at that time. The attraction between them seems genuine, and you’d be lying if you didn’t feel it with Kai yourself. 

He settles in closer, sliding your ass to the edge so he can fold his arms around your waist. It’s the reassurance you both need. He buries his face into your chest, giving you the attention you’ve been craving all day. If you didn’t have the audience, you’d fall off the table onto his lap and fuck him senseless. 

That was another thing. 

Jake. 

Regardless of the fact he never explicitly had a conversation about being exclusive with only you in a non-hypothetical sense, he is far from approachable about it now. You haven’t been completely oblivious the past few weeks. Women’s names have come across his phone screen and interactions on his social media would hint that he had other situations going on. You didn’t dig, and for good reason. 

With your fingers weaved into Josh’s curls, you tip his head back for a kiss. It feels good, sweet, and vulnerable with the bite of his mint hitting your tongue. As soon as you pull away, he lets out a dreamy sigh, “Besides, I’m perfectly happy with you.’

“Is that so?” You hum. His response only comes out as a groan from you lightly scratching his scalp, causing him to practically purr in your hands. “I dunno…He is pretty cute.”

His eyes flutter open from your words, and he bites into the flesh of his bottom lip. “Sounds like you’re the one with a crush, baby.” 

The Twisted Cherry is everything one could expect from a local dive bar. Tucked away at a corner on the east side of downtown, the popular spot is unrecognizable in the daylight hours. Hidden in plain sight until the sun starts to set and its neon lights buzz to life. Tonight, it’s bustling with activity — humming with drunken chatter and young adults pouring in and weaving their way through the tiny entrance. After paying a small cover fee to the doorman, you meander your way through the small crowd that’s starting to form. A combination of sweat, a hundred different perfumes, and the mustiness of the historic building hangs in the dense air. 

It’s difficult to see clearly in the dark with the hazy red bulbs acting as the only lighting throughout the place, but you’re able to find the bar easily. The music playing over the speakers is a relief knowing that the live show hasn’t started yet. You glance at your phone to check the time and slide it back into your purse while you wait for a bartender to notice you. With a secured hand on the waxed, wooden surface grounding you, you scan over the heads and spot the small stage near the back. You keep an eye out for Josh but quickly recognize Danny checking the equipment on stage.

You feel a set of fingers brush against the back of your arm, and before you can scold the stranger grabbing you from behind, a voice greets you, “Hey there. It’s nice to see you again.”

Kai steps into your view and stands before you. It’s not that you’re surprised that he’s here because he was also invited, it’s that you’re not sure how to feel about him being here. You’re attracted to him, thinking about him more than you ever should. An attraction that had you searching for his content on the internet one lonely night this past week. 

That smile of his — a perfectly white set of teeth with a pair of canines just a bit sharper than the average person. You imagine how it would feel to have them sink into your skin before a sloppy kiss. That fluttery feeling of excitement and throbbing need for more comes with a wash of guilt.  You’re here for Josh, not him. 

“Oh, hi,” you respond in a much softer voice than you intend, and it gets drowned out by the music so much you wonder if he heard you at all. Your movements are stiff and awkward while that nagging bead of sweat drips lower down your back. 

You feel his looming eyes on you as he leans an elbow into the bar and takes a sip of his drink. He’s reading you, studying every little mannerism and nervous glance of your eyes trying to look at anything else but him. 

From what you noticed so far, he looks good. He’s swapped the t-shirt he wore the last time you saw him for a solid black, long-sleeve button-down that’s rolled just below the elbows. It’s oversized, with linen-like fabric draping loosely from his slender frame that’s tucked into his dark-wash baggy jeans. Since you can’t hold eye contact to save your life, your gaze has drifted down to the massive rips in the denim on both of his knees. 

“What are you doing here?” The question comes out cold, dry, and sharp. It’s accusatory, and you’re not exactly why it came out that way. 

He forces out a dry laugh, and stands a step closer into your personal space, pulling your line of sight that has been fused to black leather boots up to the layered necklaces wrapped around his throat. One has a thin silver chain with a small heart-shaped locket. The other is a thicker chain of the same metal with prongs to resemble barbs on a wire fence. He pulls in a breath and releases a deep sigh, “Well, I’m here to see Josh. But what about you? Why are you here?”

He knows why. He’s playing — dangling that little toy mouse in front of you until you finally decide to snatch it. He’s done a wonderful job at leaving that trail of breadcrumbs to see if you’re curious enough about his intentions to follow them. Deep down you know if you were to take him by the hand and lead him to the bathroom, he’d be more than happy to fuck your brains out in one of the filthy stalls. 

If not— if he was truly here for Josh only — he’s the biggest tease you’ve ever met. You’re smart enough to know that if he wanted Josh for himself, he wouldn’t have bothered approaching you at all.

You still shift on your feet to balance the uneasiness as the conflicting feelings stir inside you. It’s like he’s ripped the wires out of your brain and crossed them. “Yeah, me too.”

He reaches out and pops the bubble you’ve tried to form around yourself by touching your arm once more — another gentle graze of his cool fingers. “You okay? You’re kind of making me anxious.”

The touch is innocent enough, meant purely as a physical check-in, but it doesn’t fail to send a shock of electricity through you. You try to hold back your body’s physical reaction, but there’s no doubt he caught it. It’s enough to make you look up and meet his gaze. “Yeah, I’m okay. Sorry.”

Even in the crowded, dark bar, his smile reaches his light eyes, stealing every bit of your attention. “Don’t be. Want a drink?”

“Sure, but I can get—” He interrupts you with a raise of his hand to the bartender, gesturing that he’d like two more of the same drink that’s currently in his hand. 

“You didn’t have to…” you trail off. 

He lifts his dark brow at you. “Would you like someone else to buy you drinks tonight? Josh seems a little busy.”

You stare at him, shooting him a stubborn glare. “…No.”

He huffs a laugh, stirring the ice melting away in the bottom of his glass. “Okay, then don’t be like that.”

“Like what?”

A smirk plays on his lips before he says, “A people pleaser.”

“I am not,” you scoff, offended by his attempt to psychoanalyze you. You could lay into him, give him an ear-full, and storm your way out of here — maybe even throw what’s left of his drink in his face for dramatic effect. But you both know that’s not what you want. 

He props an elbow back on the bar again and tongues the silver rings pierced through each side of his bottom lip — a similar oral fixation to Josh’s tongue piercing. “You’re too worried about what I think.”

“What if I didn’t want you to assume anything?” You’re quick to fire back, but your confidence is shaky at best, and he can see right through your stubbornness. 

Those intense green eyes scan down the length of you while the chewed cocktail straw dances across his bottom lip. If you really were a dove — a helpless bird with fluttering wings upon the ground — he was the black cat lurking in the brush ready to pounce. 

The bartender comes up from behind him and slides two cocktails across the bar between you. He takes one and offers it to you. “So you’re accusing me of being presumptuous?”

You take the drink from his hand, watching as he grabs the lone cherry half-buried in the ice from his glass and pops it into his mouth before taking the new drink waiting for him. 

You let his question hang in the air by taking a sip of your drink. Based on the distinct, nutty almond flavor and tartness of lemon, you guess it’s the bar’s spin on an amaretto sour. A thought crosses your mind, making you laugh, “Why do I feel like you’re the type that can tie a knot in a cherry stem?”

He chuckles, amused by your sudden change of subject, “Isn’t that a bit cliche?”

“If you can’t do it, just say that,” you challenge, sucking down another large sip of your drink. 

He plays along, taking the bright maraschino cherry sitting pretty next to the orange slice garnish on the rim. He plucks the syrup-marinated fruit, savoring the saccharine juice before laying the bare stem across his outstretched tongue. For a moment, you forget the fact you’re not alone, while also realizing that he’s showing off now. Keeping his eyes fixed on yours, he rolls it around in his closed mouth for about thirty seconds until the end of the stem pops out from his lips. They spread into that same cocky grin you’ve seen from him before. With it wedged between his teeth, he reaches up and tightens the loose knot with a pull of his inked fingers. 

Checkmate. 

You’re stunned into silence — no other moves left in your arsenal. He seals your fate, kicking your queen off the board with the gift of the perfect knot as he leans in close. Drunk off the victory, he croons softly against your ear, “Any more tests for me?”

If you had more alcohol in your system, you might’ve thrown yourself at him, but he steps away from you, disappearing into the crowd centered around the tiny stage. The preset music that’s been fades out, signaling the round of cheers and clapping from everyone around you. You look around to find the reason for the commotion and see Josh, Jake, and Sam step out onto the platform. 

You shuffle through to get closer, eventually spotting Kai standing by himself. He gives you a smile when you approach, but Josh’s muffled voice coming through the microphone cuts in before either of you has the chance to say anything.

“Hello, hello,” he mumbles, tapping the top of the microphone as he paces the front of the stage. You’re not sure what you expected from him, but the last thing on your mind was the pair of black leather pants he’s wearing, riding so low on his hips that you can see the tip of the leaf of his tattooed cherries poking above the waistband. They’re incredibly tight to his body in all the right places — leaving nothing to the collective imagination. The black, short-sleeved blouse is not any more conservative, left completely unbuttoned to reveal the collection of tattoos covering his torso. You can’t lie that seeing him up there, being the focus of everyone’s attention feels surreal.  

He downs the rest of his drink to shake off the remaining nerves and places it somewhere out of sight. “Hope everyone is having a lovely night.”

It earns a few shouts and whistles, but your gaze follows Jake, dressed in a pair of dark jeans and a t-shirt. He’s busy fiddling with the guitar hanging from his shoulders. You’ve noticed the cherry-finish SG propped up in the corner of his room but had yet to see him with it until now. He plays a few notes, doing any last-minute tuning while the rest of the guys get into position.  

While Danny gets ready behind the drum kit, Josh continues, whipping the microphone cord in his hand as goes, “Make sure to get your necessary refreshments. You all know the drill by now. Smoke ‘em if you got ‘em…and uh…get ready for some rock n’ roll.”

Josh’s face lights up the second he spots you standing next to Kai, smiling so wide it stretches from ear to ear. You wave at him, getting a wink in return. Jake on the other hand, only gives you a single nod before dropping his line of sight back to the guitar in his hands. Sam, with a bass hanging from the thick strap around his back, has been busy chatting with a few girls in the front row. Danny sets the count, and within seconds, the cramped space erupts on his mark. 

Josh’s vocals rip through the dense air of the dive bar. You know your mouth has dropped open and your eyes have widened in shock. It takes far longer than you’d like to admit, but you’re able to recognize the cover as “White Room” by Cream. 

In the white room with black curtains near the station

Black roof country, no gold pavements, tired sterlings

His voice is gritty, raw and powerful. There’s a certain whine to it that lives in your chest with every breath you take — so loud it rings in your ears and makes the hairs on your arms stand on end. He possesses the modest stage with a charisma that’s completely new to you. He’s far more confident than you’ll ever be, existing through the music and letting it course through his body with the sways of his head to the rhythmic bounce of his foot. Within minutes, his body starts to glisten with a sheen of sweat, causing your eye to catch the exposed golden bar pierced through his navel. 

For a moment, you forget that you’re sleeping with him, that every part of his gyrating body has been explored by you — by your tongue. He seems like an entirely new man, dripping with unadulterated eroticism and ego. 

Never wanting his brother to take all the attention, Jake steps in to deliver his solo. His nimble fingers move across the frets with lightning speed, showcasing another level of talent and dexterity that you didn’t know he had. Josh is more than happy to let him take the limelight, moving aside to gladly accept a shot of clear liquor being offered to him by someone in the crowd. 

When you pictured what this might be in your head, you imagined something akin to a local karaoke night. You hadn’t expected them to actually be this good.

 As the first song fades out, they roll into the next one without stopping. Some songs you can pick out, some you don’t. You’re simply captivated by the performance, absorbing all of their forty-five-minute set without moving from your spot once. 

One thing you couldn’t help but notice was Jake actively trying to ignore you. Other than a few fleeting glances in your direction, his attention stayed on his guitar or the women shouting at him in the first row. Instead of giving you those smiles, he gave them away, even stripping from his drenched t-shirt to show off the tattoos on his chest and back. If you were here alone, his behavior might’ve bothered you more than it does. Kai’s presence smothers it, even if it might be the reason it sparked it in the first place. 

After the guys finish up their last song, Kai nudges you with an elbow and leads the way, clearing a path through the crowd back to the bar with you in tow. The short walk feels like a blur like you’re the one running on adrenaline. Your body buzzes with so much excitement that you hardly notice the fact he’s already ordered another round. 

“Wow,” you breathe.

He reaches out and holds your wrist, grounding you to him as he leans back against the bar. “First time seeing them play?”

“Yeah.” You nod, setting your empty glass on the polished bar top. 

He’s looking past you, right at Josh still talking to a few people near the stage. “It’s definitely an experience.”

You note the way he looks at him, studying all the same things you did minutes ago. Since it's been eating away at you for almost two weeks, you feel compelled to ask yourself, “So are you and Josh friends with benefits?”

He shakes his head and smirks in response to the question, making you feel as though it was a stupid one to ask. “Who told you that?”

“Jake,” you confess. 

“Hmm…and do you always take Jake’s word on everything?” His striking eyes pierce right through you. Now inches away, you’re able to see all the details up close. The tattoo on his right cheek that says “lover”, the faint freckles that paint his nose, and the little scar that goes through his left brow. 

“Do I have a reason not to?”

His stare softens and shifts to Josh before flicking his eyes back over to you. “I guess that’s for you to find out. But no, Josh and I aren’t friends with benefits.”

You wonder how Jake would get the idea because you don’t think of him as the type to lie about something like that. “You haven’t done anything at all?”

His fingers skate across your forearms resting on the edge of the bar. “You’re a curious one,” he laughs, meeting your gaze, searching both of your eyes until he drops his own to your lips, letting them linger there. You’re hypnotized by his eyes, caught up in the lustful thoughts that have invaded your mind. “Aside from a few drunken makeouts that I’m sure he doesn’t even remember now, no.”

You try to bring his words to life in your head, imagining what that might have looked like — what it would be like to kiss him yourself. “Oh…okay.”

“Look.” He squeezes your hand before letting go to grab the drinks sitting on the bar. “I hope you know that you have him so tightly wrapped around your finger, and from what I see, he’d do anything to make you happy.” He lifts a shot you didn’t order, gesturing for you to take it. “You’re the one calling the shots here, so start acting like it.”

Before you can even think about what he said, he clinks his shot glass against yours, pressuring you to throw back the clear liquor into your mouth. You can tell its vodka right away by how it burns all the way down your throat. 

You cough through that pain, “What, are you trying to get drunk?” 

He laughs at your expense, chasing his shot with another sip of his new drink. Your judgment is becoming clouded, all inhibitions dissolving away by the second in his presence. You look over to Josh to see him slowly making his way over to you with each conversation he’s getting pulled into.  

“What are you so worried about, kitten?” The added feline quality of his voice rasps against your ear, making you tremble in his loose hold. “How badly you want to fuck me or is it how much he wants to?”

You’re fully pressed against him now, smelling the scent of his aftershave and feeling the warmth of his skin through his shirt.  He’s good at leaving you speechless, as a suitable answer for him evades you. The temptation to touch him, to kiss him becomes unbearable — your self-control reduced to a mere thread. Something makes his body tense up for the first time, and he pulls away enough to look down at you. “Is there a reason why Jake is looking at me like he wants to murder me?”

You turn, breaking away from him to look behind you. You search the groups, spotting Jake standing next to Danny and Sam as he nurses a glass of amber liquid, presumably whiskey. The set brows and jaw clench are visible even at this distance. He’s avoiding eye-contact with you, giving away that he’s angry with you. “Oh…uhm,” you stammer over yourself, struggling to find a place to start. “Well…”

Kai’s brows shoot up but his shoulders fall in disbelief now that the pieces start to fit together. “You’re fucking kidding me,” he breathes, taking another sip of his drink. Something shifts as the gears turn in his head, and a devilish grin reveals itself over the lip of his glass. What would scare away more people only seems to make him double down, as if he thrives off the pure chaos. “Let’s get messy then.”

“Fucking finally.” You hear Josh heavy groan beside you. “I never thought I would escape.” He takes a second to collect himself now that he’s made it to the bar. “Fuck, I’m so glad you both could come.” 

“You didn’t tell me you could sing like that,” you gush, giving him a playful shove to his shoulder, which only makes him propel himself closer to you.

“Maybe I wanted it to be a surprise.” He kisses you — heavy, hot and brimming with lust. He’s impatient, beyond pent up, licking into your mouth while he ruts his hardening length against your hip. “Being on that stage gets me so fucking horny, baby. I don’t think I can wait to fuck you later.” His sinful confessions being mumbled into your skin is enough to drive you feral. 

If the state of your underwear was any indication of how you’re feeling — you need him more than anything you’ve needed before. 

He shows enough restraint to acknowledge Kai standing beside you. “Looks like you’re making a new friend though.” 

You glance up at him to see that he’s more than content sipping away at his cocktail while the two of you go at it, giving you a side-eye peek. A heat radiates in your chest and blooms up to your face thinking about the things he had said to you minutes ago, making you admit, “We’ve gotten to know each other a little.” 

Josh’s curious eyes bounce between you before landing on Kai. “You’re not making me a stranger, are you?”

Kai sets his glass down and signals for another round. Those siren eyes of his find Josh’s while he lures him in with a silken voice, “I don’t think it would take much to get reacquainted.”

The sexual tension between them reaches its threshold, breaking apart from a single look. Acting on a surge of bravery, Josh takes the leap of faith you’ve yet to make. He leans forward and crashes his lips into Kai’s before he’s given the chance to react. It takes him a second to catch up with Josh’s unrestricted fervor, but quickly regains his footing. After bringing a hand to cradle the side of his face, Kai successfully suppresses that hunger enough to slow him down to be present. You watch as their lips part, seeing the glint of Josh’s piercing as his tongue slips into Kai’s mouth. 

His ringed fingers dive into Josh’s sweaty hair, tugging him by the roots to make him whimper. To witness him being turned into a moaning mess makes you ache terribly. He’s teasing Josh with a taste to remember, and is now pulling away to keep him chasing for it. 

Josh licks at his swelling bottom lip to savor what was left there. He suddenly plummets back to Earth, remembering where he is and that you’re still standing here beside him. “Oh shit… I’m sorry—“ 

“Don’t be,” you giggle, interrupting his frantic apology. “I’ve been wanting to do that all night.”

It was supposed to be a light-hearted joke to add levity to the moment. But the next thing you feel is Kai’s hand wrapping around your neck. “Let’s make it even, then.” 

You have thought about this very moment over and over again after that night at the shop. The way his lips would feel, how they would taste, how he would touch you. It’s a forbidden desire, more so than Jake has ever felt. You’re not supposed to have another man make you feel like this. 

His lips connect with a controlled grace, the pad of his thumb grazing along your jawline to ease you in. You relinquish control, clutching onto the fabric of his shirt while you memorize the cold sensation of the silver rings slipping across your lip as the kiss deepens. He baits you with a teasing flick of his tongue, making you chase it back into the sweetness of his mouth. 

Before you know it, it’s all over. 

“Oh my fucking god, that was so hot,” Josh groans. His restlessness breaks the moment for you to see him tossing back one of the shots that was ordered. 

You’ve been blushing so hard that your face has started  to break out in a sweat, but Kai is still holding you by the chin, peering down at you through obsidian lashes. He bites down on his bottom lip, creating little impressions in the wet flesh. “What do you think? Should we get outta here, kitten?”

All three of you stumble out of the bar onto the sidewalk after paying the tap, realizing you’ve had a bit more to drink than you expected to. Your chest feels tight, but in that way when you know something is about to happen. Josh, on the other hand, is vibrating with nervous energy so much his hands have started to shake as he pulls out the pack of cigarettes from his pocket. 

“Uber will be here in 5 minutes,” Kai announces, noticing Josh drunkenly struggle to light the end of his cigarette. You try to find another lighter from the depths of your purse, but Kai digs his own from his pocket to help him. It’s sensual — the way he watches him pull in a slow drag so he can pluck the burning cigarette from between his fingers. 

Before Josh can exhale, Kai captures his lips in a smokey kiss. He nips at his bottom lip, thriving on the way he’s left Josh breathless and confused as he takes in a drag of his own. He then looks at you with a raised brow, silently asking you if you want one as well. You nod, eagerly closing the distance, stepping into his arms so he can hold your chin steady. You open your lips for him, allowing him to blow a gentle stream of smoke past them before sealing it with a kiss. 

You hear Josh giggle in the background, humming with energy he can no longer contain, “You two are trying to fucking kill me.”

TAGLIST:

@gretavanbitches @dannyandthekiszkas @asparrowofthedawn @ageofnations @welightthefire @garbagevanfleet @lvnterninthenight @pennylanefics @writingcold @alexxavicry @gvfficrecs @jakeyboiiiiiii @doodle417 @richjaaasss @pr41sethemoon @gretavanflowerpowerrr @joshskittytickler @tripthelightfatality @maddie-van-fleet @sarakay-gvf @josiee-gvf @milkgemini @sammiejane22 @gretavanbear @capturethechaos @welllauragvf @averagemisfit03 @myownparadise96 @givemeyourtots2 @gretavangroove @objectsinspvce @myownparadise96 @feilores @josh-iamyour-mama @givemeyourtots2 @joshkiszkasbigtoe @lightmylove-gvf @mydarlingdanny @shutupdevvie @twinszka @busybeingtrash @carlybubs @demonrat444 @high-fidelity1 @jake-kiszkas-smirk @sunandthemoontwinflames @gvfcinema @klarxtr @sacredthethreadgvf @gracev0609

[teeny-tiny-revenge]

No, but they'll be complimenting each other so well going on. One of Ed's big problems is that he just gives up so easily. Plan with the fog failed? We're going to die; I'm gonna get drunk while waiting for death. The fishing isn't going so well? Obviously he's not meant to fish. It's like Ed's spent his entire adult life being really really good at stuff (sailing, piracy, etc) that he's completely unused to failure and doesn't know how to go on from it. But that's an important thing to learn, and in a way it's a joyful thing to learn, too. You can try something and it can go wrong and you suck at it and then you can try again and learn from your mistakes and get better (either at the thing or at failure).

Meanwhile Stede is absolutely amazing at this. He says it himself, he's been a failure all his life, he got used to it. Stede doesn't give up. That's probably his biggest strength IMO. Stede is tenacious as fuck. Something went wrong? The cards are stacked against him? Whatever! He wants to do the thing, he's committed and determined, he's going to do the fucking thing if it fucking kills him. Stede is not going to let Ed give up whenever he gets discouraged. He'll be there to pull him back to his feet and they will try again.

And one of Stede's big problems is that he doesn't think anyone admires him and likes him. Meanwhile Ed has thought Stede is the coolest guy on Earth since meeting him! He's probably the only person to ever think that. Other characters grow to like Stede for some of his qualities, he has a huge impact on everyone around him, but he doesn't see that, and nobody genuinely admires all the quirky Stedeisms about him. Nobody except Ed. Ed thinks the library is awesome. Ed thinks the secret closet full of fancy clothes is the coolest shit he's ever seen. Ed loves Stede prioritising marmalade over gunpowder. Ed loves Stede being extra and bitchy and a complete lunatic.

And they're both seeing it now. They are already complimenting each other like this by the end of season two. Ed gives up on fishing, but it was never actually about fishing anyway. He doesn't give up about Stede and their relationship. He digs out his leathers and goes back into the very fray he's been dying to leave, because he's not giving up about Stede, he's going to fight for him. That's kinda the first time we actually see Ed choose to fight for something? All his ofher fights and violence are reacting to threats to his own person. One way or another, pretty much everything we see Ed do as Blackbeard is him either trying to protect himself, or to actively make someone else kill him. He chooses to live in the gravy basket mermaid scene, but he keeps running from problems after. He keeps running from Stede. And then he turns around and doesn't give up and goes to save his boyfriend and his relationship. It looks hopeless! The odds look terrible! But Ed's going to fight for it anyway, and look, he succeeds! And Stede is waiting for him, Stede knows Ed loves him, Stede doesn't doubt Ed.

And Stede is so desperate for people to think he's cool it makes him stupid and makes him make an ass of himself, but his crazy plan works, and this time when he's recounting his cool adventure Ed is sitting right next to him, all starry eyed and admiring and saying "yeah, it was cool, babe, I saw that". Saying "I see you". Ed's beginning to understand Stede needs to be told how cool Ed thinks he is, and Stede's starting to hear it.

They're going to be okay, guys. They're going to be happy. :)

[lovelyhan]

— caught in the middle (a teaser) ⟢

mingyu knows. he's perfectly aware that his best friend's girlfriend is the last person he should end up wanting. but who is he to refuse when wonwoo invites him to join something he never thought he could ever be part of?

★ FEATURING; wonwoo x reader x mingyu

★ WORD COUNT; 1.3k words

★ TAGS; established relationship, streamer au, one-sided pining, fluff, smut (in future scenes; this teaser is completely sfw)

★ WARNINGS; brief mentions of twitter porn

★ NOTES; streamer wonwoo is back and he now comes in a set with his equally hot streamer best friend :] i'd recommend reading underlying pretense and favorite poison first for added context, but you can totally read this teaser (and future story) as a standalone :^)

★ DISCLAIMER; some elements in this teaser are not final and might change in the actual fic.  

This is, by far, the worst day of Mingyu’s life. 

Okay, maybe he’s exaggerating, but he likes to think that he’s a man of routine. If he doesn’t get to do his morning rituals right before his streams, it feels like the world has been tilted a few degrees off its proper axis. 

And that’s exactly what’s happening now, when Mingyu realizes that his favorite Twitter porn account is nowhere to be found. 

How the hell is he supposed to get his daily dose of relief now?

“Mingyu, you’re dragging your ass a lot today,” Seungcheol’s voice sounds pissed through his headphones and Mingyu can’t exactly fault him for it. Not when he ended up making their team lose their third Valorant match in a row. “The hell’s up with you? I thought you already practiced using Gekko with Vernon the other day.”

“We did and he was actually pretty good,” the younger man comments. “Dunno what suddenly got into him today though.”

“Cheol-hyung, you shouldn’t berate Mingyu when you royally sucked at using Neon during the time she was first released,” Wonwoo quips.

Seungcheol immediately makes a disgruntled noise at that. “I did not royally suck! She just doesn’t fit my playstyle. And I get that you guys are glued to the hip at this point, but you of all people should know when to call out your teammates especially if they’re being a bunch of noobs, Wonwoo.”

“Now, now, didn’t we already talk about this? No fighting when we’re only doing a bunch of scrimmages between friends.” 

A less abrasive voice flits into the call and Mingyu finds himself relaxing into his seat as he stares at the glowing red DEFEAT screen on his monitor. Ever since you and Wonwoo finally dropped the act of hating each other and started dating, you’ve constantly mediated any petty arguments that sparked within their group. Mingyu is all sorts of grateful, but is just a tad bit embarrassed whenever he’s part of the argument in question.

“Yeah, what she said,” Wonwoo agrees with a huff. 

“Whatever, man. Koyahngi has watered down your temper so much, it makes me look like the most easily tilted player on the team,” Seungcheol grumbles before adding, “Ugh. Couples.”

Vernon laughs softly. “Crazy how you’re the one who always insisted for Wonwoo-hyung to be kinder, but now that he is, you suddenly want him to go back to his trash-talking ways.”

“Now why’s everyone dogpiling me now!” the older man whines.

About half an hour and another lost match later, everyone decides to call it a day. Seungcheol and Vernon are going to hold a joint stream together and Mingyu needs to get ready for another modeling gig he managed to land a couple of days ago. He’s not sure what you and Wonwoo had in store for the day, but his best friend and roommate mentioned that you were going to drop by their apartment sometime today. 

But when Mingyu finally deigned to grab a towel and head to the bathroom, he instead makes a detour to the couch with a desolate sigh. He unlocks his phone and opens the Twitter app like it was second nature, tapping on the button that pulls up his most recent searches.  

goodcat_badcat

He absentmindedly types the username to an account that’s been his constant companion whenever he needed to let off some steam. Though he hasn’t checked her profile in a while, Mingyu was under the impression that goodcat_badcat would still be there to give him a hand especially when his schedule has been driving him insane these days. 

But when the app redirects him to the main profile, the same words that greeted him when he woke up with his painfully hard morning wood stare back at him. Something went wrong. Try again.

She deactivated. His favorite Twitter porn girl is fucking gone and now he’s got nothing but despair and the bluest balls in the entire city. 

“Hey.”

Mingyu jolts at the sound of Wonwoo’s voice, immediately locking his phone before tossing it on the other side of the couch as if it burned him. He’s quick to whirl around to greet him with a too-wide smile.

“Hyung, what’s up?” Mingyu asks, thanking the heavens that his voice didn’t crack.

His best friend looks at him weirdly. “Uh, do you have any plans today? We’re going out to go bowling today and she told me to ask if you wanted to come along.”

Bowling. Wonwoo sucks at bowling, but you managed to rope him into going with you anyways. If that’s not true love, Mingyu doesn’t know what is. 

“I’d love to, but I’ve got a shoot in…” Mingyu’s voice falters before reaching for the phone he just tossed away—heart dropping to his stomach when he looks at the time. “Shit. Thirty minutes.”

He doesn’t wait for Wonwoo’s response before bounding towards the bathroom with a towel in hand.

The part-time model hasn’t gotten ready faster in his entire life. Though his manager told him that the brand he’s shooting for this time isn’t strict with time, Mingyu doesn’t want to make it a habit to show up late for his commitments.

Streamers already have a bad enough image to those who aren’t part of the industry, and he wants to make it a point that not every single one of them is a slob who doesn’t shower and makes tardiness a way of life.

As he pulls on a snapback over his still-damp hair—opting to let the stylists on the set handle it for him instead—he faintly hears your voice outside of his bedroom door. 

“Aww, he isn’t coming?”

“Yeah. Let’s just invite him next time,” Wonwoo’s muffled response manages to reach his ears as well.

With one last glance in the mirror, Mingyu hoists his bag across his shoulder before opening the door to his room. He spots you seated on the armrest of their couch, kicking your legs somewhat adorably before you meet his gaze with surprise.

For someone who’s supposed to be bowling today, you don’t really look the part. Of course, your signature Koyahngi cat ear headband is sitting on top of your head, as in-theme as always. You also paired up your short, pleated skirt with lace-trimmed thigh highs and chunky white boots. Not to mention the sheer, low cut top that gives him an ample view of your cleavage… 

“Gyu, do you have a photoshoot today or something?” Your question promptly snaps him out of his somewhat rude staring. “Here I thought we could team up and destroy Wonwoo together in the bowling alley.”

“As if I’d allow that,” his best friend scoffs. “Mingyu’s teaming up with me, princess. Then you’ll be crying in the bowling alley while we get ourselves a victory treat from the snackbar.”

“We are not going to do that, and yeah, I have a photoshoot…that I’m already late for actually,” Mingyu replies with a bubble of laughter. “That’s okay. You and Wonwoo-hyung have fun. Pro-tip, he actually sucks at bowling, so you’ll score much better than he will.” 

You giggle before getting back on your feet, making your way over to Mingyu faster than he can prepare himself for. He hasn’t quite noticed it as vividly as he does now, but you’re so much smaller than him—even with the added inches of your boots. 

It doesn’t help that the way you’re cutely looking up at Mingyu with those pretty doe eyes as you examine his outfit is making sweat bead across his temples. Great.

“Doesn’t seem like you’re heading to a shoot though,” you laugh. “You’re going on a date, aren’t you? Who’s the lucky guy or gal? Why’d you dress up like Tadashi Hamada just to impress them?”

Wonwoo snorts. “You mean the guy who died in Big Hero 6?”

“Well, yeah, but he was also my childhood crush, so shut up, Wonwoo.”

Your childhood crush. He looks like your childhood crush. 

As Mingyu watches you bicker with his roommate—your boyfriend and his best friend—he realizes something that could change the trajectory of this friendship forever.

He might have a crush on someone he isn’t supposed to want.

⟢ end notes: hope you enjoyed the teaser so far! do leave a reply if you want to be tagged once the fic is up (hint: i'll be dropping it on wonwoo's birthday hehe)

[billlydear]

BASIC BIOLOGY - BILLY HARGROVE X READER (PART ONE) | PART TWO | PART THREE

word count: 4926 // masterlist | inbox (please request) | WIP list

Summary: you're paired with billy for a biology project. you only visit his house once, but it's enough for you to understand why he doesn't want you to come over again. when he starts showing up more and more in your life, you realize that it's basic biology: you were made for him, and he was made for you.

Contents: gn!reader (let me know if i made a mistake on that anywhere!), the climax is a scene that's based on 2.8 (?) where billy finds out that max is missing, and neil shoves him into the closet and slaps him. it's not word-for-word, it's about a different scenario, but it's the same fight. please don't read this if it'll trigger you. fluff, angst, eventual happy ending.

A/N: i hope that you enjoy this! it's been a brainworm of mine for a while, and i'm thrilled to have the first part finished. let me know what you think! I honestly think that this could just be read as a one-shot, so don't let the 'part one' deter you 😅

reblogs and comments are greatly appreciated! your feedback motivates me to write more, so thank you for your support :-)

To say that you’re not thrilled about your partner assignment for this biology project is an understatement. Billy Hargrove, said partner, is smoking out the window, and you’re not even sure if he’s heard that you’re partners yet. The most he gives you is a steady glance from across the room, but you think that he might have just felt you burning a hole in the side of his head with your imploring gaze. 

When you’re all released to plan with your partners he makes no move to stand. He only curls his lips tighter around the cigarette and sucks down smoke.

You bite the bullet and stand, clutching your assignment sheet in your hands that are growing sweaty with nerves.

“Hi,” You supply lamely, taking the seat next to him that’s been vacated by his previous seatmate, “I guess we’re partners, then.”

“I guess.” He drawls, tilting his head towards the window to let smoke billow from between his lips. “So, what, you wanna come to mine?”

You freeze. He’s more forward than you’d expected. “Uh,” You thumb through the notes you’d taken, the project rubric, “Like- like today? After school?”

“Yeah,” He hangs his arm out the window to snuff the cigarette out on the sil, “My folks won’t be home ‘til late. We’ll have time to work.”

“Okay,” You agree cautiously, glancing over at his empty rubric sheet, concerningly devoid of notes, “Uh, what’s your address?”

“I’ll just drive you,” He glances at the clock, showcasing three minutes to dismissal, “I’ve gotta take my stepsister home too, though, so we’ll pull into the middle school first.”

“Oh. Thank you,” You blink, fingers curling tight around your papers, “I’ll, uh- go get my stuff.”

You rush back to your seat to pack your bag with a strange haze over your thoughts. Everyone knew Billy, what he wanted, what he did. He was notoriously forward, and though he had been straight to the point, you hadn’t felt like... prey. Still, something tugged at the pit of your stomach, a warning to be careful.

The bell rings and you turn, finding a pair of worn boots in your line of sight. You glance up at the wearer, finding Billy already waiting for you.

“Uh, sorry,” You stammer, rushing to stand and subsequently hitting your head on the desk, “Fuck-!”

“Jesus,” Billy chuckles, and you’re worried you’ll analyze the sound and find components of mockery in it, “Careful.”

“It’s fine,” You hiss, but before you can rub at the spot you’d hit, Billy’s hand is there, mussing your hair and pushing you forwards, towards the door of the class. It’s something you’d do to your clumsy younger brother, and it feels odd coming from the chain smoking California kid everyone talks about.

“My stepsister’s out in twenty,” He informs you, a presence on your left as you walk out the front doors of the school, “So we’ve got, like, fifteen minutes to talk about our plan, if you want.”

“That’s good,” You hum, trailing after him to an impressively flashy car, “I think we should just draw everything. I know she said we could use clay, but that costs more, and I’ve already got colored pencils.”

“Fine by me,” He makes for the passenger door first, throwing it open and gesturing for you to get in, “You can put your bag in the back.”

When you’re seated, he shuts the door for you, and you’re oddly grateful for the gesture. It’s kind, and once more, out of character for the stereotypes you’ve heard about him. There’s a tense few seconds of silence in the camaro as he crosses to the other side, and your cheek finds its way between your teeth. But once he gets in and starts the car up, the stereo blares to life with a mixtape you’re sure he’s made himself.

“Sorry,” He grunts, reaching for the dial, “We can talk.”

“It’s fine,” You shake your head, “I don’t mind music.”

Though he cranks the dial back up, it’s not all the way, and the music becomes background noise to the shuffling of papers in your lap.

“So,” You start, thumbing through notes and ideas, “Like I said before, clay is difficult to work with, and messy, plus we’d have to model it and let it dry, and I think leaving clay unattended in my house would result in a disaster. And if we just draw it instead, they’re simple shapes and there’s nothing too complicated to draw, whereas clay would be harder to sculpt. And-”

“Okay, okay! Let’s just draw it,” Billy chuckles again, checking his rear-view mirrors for oncoming cars as he peels out of the parking lot, “If you wanna draw it then we’ll draw it.”

“Oh. Okay.” You sit back with a huff, unsure whether to be indignant because you were cut off or grateful that you seemed to be getting along.

“If you don’t have your colored pencils with you I’m sure my stepsister has some,” He theorizes, “But maybe you should ask her. If I ask her I’ll get one jammed into my eye.”

You let out a breathy laugh, “She’s, uh- spirited, then?”

“Mean-spirited.” Billy drawls, turning a bit harder than he should down a residential street on the way to the middle school, “She sucks.”

You’re sure that Billy wouldn’t be going out of his way to pick her up from school if she sucked. Or at least, if she sucked all the time. You’re well aware siblings have their feuds, but when she runs up to the car with a skateboard in her hands, you know he’s bluffing. If he really disliked her, she could have skated home. Now you know he’s softer than he lets on, but you keep it to yourself, smiling awkwardly up at her when she pulls open your door without looking first.

“Backseat, dipshit,” Billy scoffs, “I’ve got company.”

Company. It sounds like a dirty word, at least, coming from Billy who’s company typically consisted of girls spread eagle over the hood. But you reach for your seatbelt, “I can sit in the back, if you want?”

“No.” He pushes your hand away from the buckle, nudging it into your lap, “She’s younger and she’s annoying. Backseat, dipshit.”

With a huff she slams the door, and you’re suddenly not sure that you’ll avoid a colored pencil to the eye, either. Billy’s peeling out of the parking lot before she’s even buckled her seatbelt, and she sends him a nasty glare through the rearview mirror, one that you’re sure has the power to burn a hole through his head.

“So, uh,” You turn slightly in your seat, meeting eyes with the disgruntled middle schooler, “What’s your name?”

“Maxine.” Billy drawls, at the same time she snaps, “Max,”.

“Max?” You echo cautiously, and she snaps out of her glare at Billy to size you up. She seems relieved, almost taken aback that you’d listened to her instead of her stepbrother. She nods, and her lips curl in something that you’ll take as a smile, even if it’s barely perceptible.

“I think I’ve seen you around,” You muse, “You go to the arcade, right?”

“Yeah,” She nods, “You... you wear the green converse, right?”

“That’s me,” You laugh, raising your leg and lifting the hem of your pants to showcase the olive green sneakers.

“You know what shoes they wear?” Billy sneers from the front, glancing back at her through the mirror. 

Her face flushes as she ducks it down to stare at her lap, and you’re quick to swat gently at his shoulder, “Be nice!”

He looks at the hand you’d used bewilderedly, and Max bites back an amused smirk.

You’re nervous for a moment, afraid you’d cracked some ancient rift between the two, but Billy just clenches his jaw, shooting her another glare through the mirror and turning down a side street into a residential neighborhood.

Though he’s entered new territory, he doesn’t slow down. He’s going fast enough to pummel any unfortunate child playing in the street, and your stomach twists uneasily as he only speeds up.

“Billy,” Your voice is cautious, anxious even, “Can you... slow down? There’s too many kids here, it’s making me nervous.”

“I won’t hit anyone,” He assures you, though it does little to calm you, “I know what I’m doing.”

“Maybe you- don’t!” You tense as a toddler veers too close to the street where he’s playing with a ball on his front lawn, your heart racing as he wobbles safely back towards his house, “Please, Billy?”

He doesn’t grace you with a response, and honestly, you think you’re lucky he doesn’t snap at you like he does Max, but he eases up on the gas, finally within the speed limit as he curves through neighborhoods in pursuit of his own.

He pulls into their driveway with ease, and it makes you question how often his parents are gone. Surely their cars would take precedence over his in terms of parking, and you worry about him and Max being left alone more often than not. You’re so caught up in pondering the stability of their home life that you run straight into Billy’s back as he wrestles with his keys, stumbling backwards and apologizing bashfully.

“Clumsy,” He labels you, but it sounds more like a nickname than it does an insult. A mere observation, not a crack.

Max is off to her room before you even step over the threshold, and ignores Billy’s shouts of, “Maxine, we need colored pencils!”

She slams her door in response, and his shoulders slump.

“Shitbird.” He mutters, and an involuntary laugh slips from your lips. He looks back at you with a sly grin, shrugging off his jacket and draping it over a chair.

“Inventive,” You bend down to unlace your shoes, but Billy waves you off, so you keep them on. “I’ve never heard that one before.”

“We’ve got a whole list of ‘em,” He boasts, and you admire the rare mention of the two of them as a duo instead of opponents, “I think her favorite is dickwad.”

“Oh, that’s even better,” You chuckle, “I’ll have to use that.”

“She usually pairs it with another insult,” He speaks as though he’s describing the plating process of a budding young chef, “Something like insufferable or shit-for-brains really gives it an extra kick.”

You fall into a comfortable silence while he points you to his room and while the rest of the house you can see seems lifeless and sterile, his room is definitely his. Posters on the walls, laundry on the floor, a discarded shirt, a belt, and- boxers, that you only notice as he kicks them into the depths of his closet. You try not to think about them as he tosses his bag on his bed, prompting you to do the same. You rifle through your papers again, watching as he arms himself with a single pencil.

“We should plan out what we’re drawing first,” You propose, hesitant to sit on his bed before he tells you that’s where you’re working. It feels too personal, you’d almost rather sit on the floor.”

“Okay,” He nods, taking the plunge and sitting on the bed with his back against the wall, “So we’re drawing…”

“Mitosis,” You freeze, glancing up at him apprehensively through your lashes, “Have you been paying attention in class?”

“I’ve been trying to dump enough ashes onto the flowers outside the window to kill them,” His head jerks upwards to look at you instead of your bag as he drawls sarcastically, and the earring in his left ear dangles, shining in the light streaming in from the windows. You heave a sigh with raised eyebrows, ducking your head to continue searching through your bag.

“Here’s a diagram,” You offer up a recent class handout, one that you’re sure he’d used to spit his gum out in, “This isn’t the order the steps are in, though. So we have to reorder them, then draw them all and write about them.”

“There’s only four,” He reasons, “That won’t take too long.”

You neglect to break the news to him that you’re a perfectionist. 

“You start with prophase,” You point to the corresponding picture, “And I’ll do metaphase. Then whoever finishes first can divide the last two.”

He nods once in acknowledgement, “I’ll get colored pencils from Max later. She won’t stab me if I offer her pizza first.”

You can’t blame him for his apprehension towards the redhead. She’s definitely fiery, but you have a sneaking suspicion she’s equally as sweet. You suppose siblings are always at each other’s throats, and Billy and Max are no exception. You get to work sketching out your diagram, and after it's formed, without a ruler to make straight lines, you attempt your own freehand ones. They’re supposed to be arrows, pointing to each part of the drawing to label them, but they come out lopsided and shaky. 

Billy glances up from his sketch when eraser shavings fly over it, peering concernedly at you as you nearly rub a hole through the paper with your eraser.

“Jesus,” He frowns, looking at the array of gray shavings on his comforter, “Are you trying to bury us?”

“Sorry!” You groan, sweeping the shavings away into your palm and dropping them into the trash can that he’s got by his nightstand, “I can’t get these lines straight.”

“Uh,” Billy straightens from where he’d been slouched against the wall, lost in his drawing, “I don’t think I have a ruler..”

“I figured,” You rub your eraser clean of pencil lead, “It’s fine, I can just-”

“Here,” He cuts you off, lunging for a record sleeve that he’s got propped on a milk crate by the foot of his bed, “You can trace it with this.”

You freeze with the sleek, stiff sleeve in your hands.

“Are you sure?” You glance cautiously at him, ghosting your fingers over the edges, “I don’t want to ruin it.”

“Don't, then.” He snorts, “Just trace the edge, you won’t get pencil on it.”

You carefully line the pencil up with the side of the sleeve, peering around his room once before tracing the line you need, “Do you have a record player?”

“Not anymore,” He shakes his head, his curls bouncing, “It got- uh, broken when we moved.”

You hum sympathetically, “That sucks. Maybe you can find a cheap one somewhere, like a yard sale, or something.”

“Yeah, maybe,” He glances up at you with a soft smile, but you don’t catch it, too immersed in your task. He takes the time to admire you curiously, his eyes tracing your features just like you do the arrow.

“There,” You breathe, handing the sleeve back to him once all of your lines have been drawn, “That’s perfect.”

“Mine’s done too,” He decides, tipping his folder so that you can see his final product, “That okay?”

“Looks good,” You nod, scanning the page for any possible mistakes, “That’s... A lot of detail. Wow.”

He chuckles, and you think it’s sheepishly, “Yeah. I draw fast, I guess.”

“I guess,” You parrot, “Okay, next?”

“Actually,” He slides the paper off of his lap, glancing at the clock on his wall, “It’s getting kind of late. If we want pizza delivery, we should call in now, that way it gets here before we get too hungry.”

“Oh!” You stiffen slightly, “Uh, I’m- I’m sorry, I don’t think I have money for pizza.”

“It’s fine,” He waves you off, “I got it. You’re probably the only reason I’m gonna pass this class anyways, I think I owe you more than two slices.”

“Bio’s hard,” You laugh lightly, “I think I’m doing worse in math, though.”

He groans, running a hand down his face, “Fucking math.”

“This unit is so confusing,” You gush, hearing the crunch of tires on gravel from somewhere outside, “I just can’t wrap my head around-”

“Quiet.” Billy demands, eyes wide.

“Uh- what?” You glance nervously at him. You’d started to let your guard down, to forget the rumors about Billy Hargrove, the basketball player with a whole lot of fire inside of him. You’d been comfortable on his bed, chatting about classes and drawing diagrams. But now, when he hears voices outside, he snaps.

“-parked in the damn driveway,” One grumbles, a man’s voice that makes Billy shoot out of his seat when it’s paired with heavy, thumping footsteps across the walkway.

Billy lunges for you, and you don’t have time to scream in shock before his hand, rough and large, slams itself over your mouth.

“Get in the closet,” He hisses, brow dipped in a ferocious frown, “Now!”

There’s no other way to describe how he moves you than manhandling. He grabs you tight by the arm with his free hand, dragging you up and off of the bed as you try fighting him on instinct. When you hear the front door open your brain catches up to you, and you rush to help his progress, not hinder it, so you stand from where you’d been limp in his arms and dart into the closet.

He’s barely able to slide the door shut on you before a series of knocks fall heavy on his door. They’re the type of knocks you’d only ever heard before in cop shows, the FBI banging on people’s doors ready to tackle them to the ground.

You’re petrified in the closet, squeezed between a series of shelves behind your back and the door pressed to your front. Your breathing is erratic, short, sharp intakes of breath warming your face as they hit the door in front of you and bounce right back.

“Yeah?” You hear Billy swing his door open, the hinges squeaking, “Oh, hi, dad.”

“Hi.” The same voice from before sounds, and it sends a shiver down your spine from how icy it is, “There’s a blue camaro parked in my spot. Any idea who’s that is?”

The question is sarcastic, of course, but your nose wrinkles at how unnecessary it is, not to mention condescending.”

“It’s-” Billy tries, but his dad cuts him off.

“It had better not be my son’s, whom I have told repeatedly not to park in the driveway. My driveway.”

“I’m sorry, dad.” Billy keeps his voice low, guilty, and you think it sounds earnest enough. Your breathing is calmer now, not normal but not panicked. Sure, it’ll be awkward listening to Billy get lectured by his dad, but you’d survive.

“The next time this happens,” Billy’s dad’s voice grows eerily venomous, “I will get your old baseball bat from our garage, and I will smash that car to bits, you understand? I don’t give a damn if you bought it, you’re parking it on my property and that means you’ll do it by my rules.”

“Yes, sir.” Billy recites, and your heart sinks at how impersonal their relationship seems. You’d had your concerns from the beginning, because everything about Billy’s home life seemed to indicate that it wasn’t the most conventional, but you pity the boy for his dad’s lack of human decency.

“Move it. And where’s Maxine?”

“She’s in her room,” Billy supplies readily, “She’s doing homework. And I was just about to order us pizza.”

You breathe easier knowing it’s over. That the danger has passed, that you’ll be out of the stuffy closet soon. But only silence ensues, there’s no acknowledgement from Billy’s dad. Not until-

“What?”

“There’s no spaghetti left,” Billy tries reasoning, “We finished it all last night. I just thought that pizza was-”

“Son,” Billy’s dad spits, “It is 6:30. That is well past our family’s dinnertime. And you haven’t fed your sister?”

“I was about to grab the phone, dad! To call the pizza place, and order so that they wouldn’t be later than seven. I know it’s later than we usually eat, I just thought that she’d tell me if she was getting hungry! And she hasn’t,” Billy huffs, “She’s been quiet since we got home from school.”

“You thought she’d tell you? Billy, it’s not her responsibility to run this household when we’re away, it’s yours. I’ve told you that time and time again. And she’s been quiet since you got her home from school? How do you know she’s even in her room? Do you? Have you checked on her?”

“No, dad,” Billy argues, “I haven’t checked on her. I’ve been doing my own homework, and you’re the one that left, so I don’t know why it’s my fault that-!”

You thought things were fine. Sure, it was an argument, but that’s all it was. Until it wasn’t. Until the door in front of you shakes, nearly snaps, as a colossal thud rattles its frame. You’re not sure how you managed to stay quiet, the door warping in its hinges and pressing tight against your front. You slam a hand over your mouth to muffle your newly-frantic breathing, eyes shut tight as tears bead in their corners.

“How dare you,” You hear that voice, the rough, hateful voice of Billy’s dad, only inches away from you. But he’s speaking to you, not away from you, and you come to the terrible realization that he’s slammed Billy into the closet door. You’d managed to keep up hope, imagining his stereo thrown across the room towards your location, but there’s no denying now that it’s Billy’s weight against your front, only a flimsy closet door between you.

“How dare you insinuate that this is my fault? How dare you tell me that I can’t leave my own home, and how dare you shirk your responsibilities to your sister. As if you’re not a grown man,” Billy’s dad spits, “You are more than capable of looking after a 13-year-old girl. You just choose not to, and I don’t know how else to get it through your head, Billy! This is your family, she is your sister, and when we are gone, you are her parent! She needs food, she needs attention, she needs care, she’s not a goldfish. Why don’t you care about her, Billy? Why do you keep acting like you are not a part of this family?”

There’s a moment of silence where Billy tries thinking of something to say. You use it to answer the question for yourself: because he isn’t. This isn’t a family, you realize, your chest still compressed by Billy’s weight, this is a broken home. The three of them, Billy’s dad, his stepmom, and his stepsister, they’re a family, but Billy isn’t. Not with the way they treat him, not with the things they expect of him. It’s no wonder he doesn’t like his family, because they really aren’t that.

It’s too late. Billy takes too long to answer (which you think is unfair with such a loaded question), and your stomach churns as you hear a sharp smack. You’re unfortunately certain that it hasn’t been Billy’s father on the receiving end, but your biology partner himself.

Thankfully, Billy’s dad doesn’t hear your gasp. Or maybe he does, but he thinks it’s Billy’s. Nevertheless, you know Billy hears it, and you hope that he takes some comfort in the fact that you’re still there, that you’re not selling him out and revealing yourself to get yourself out.

“You are her brother.” Billy’s dad breaks the silence, and you try matching your haggard breathing to Billy’s so that he doesn’t hear you, “You are responsible for her. And if you disobey me again, you will be punished. Do you understand me?”

“Yes, sir.” Billy mumbles, and you hate how thick his voice sounds in his throat.

“I’m sorry,” Billy’s dad drawls, and you have the sudden urge to leap from the closet and punch him in the teeth, “I couldn’t hear you. What did you say?”

“Yes.” Billy repeats, voice strong this time, “Sir.”

“Move your fucking car.” Billy’s dad spits, leaving him with another shove to Billy’s shoulders that pushes you even further back into the shelves. Your back is going to ache tomorrow, but you can’t bring yourself to care, not while Billy stands petrified against his closet door.

The heavy footsteps recede, and there’s two pairs, a much lighter one there now, too. But Billy hasn’t moved, and you come to the sickening realization that Billy’s stepmom had been lingering in the doorway the entire time. Or just outside it. You must not have heard her light footfalls when they were so consumed by her husband’s earth-shaking ones. She had to have known what Billy’s dad was doing to him, why wouldn’t she stop him? Why wouldn’t she say anything?

You don’t have time to prepare for the closet door flying open, and for a split second, you’re afraid it’s Billy’s dad. But it’s not, it’s Billy, and he meets your eye for only a split second. It’s enough for him to notice the withheld tears in your eyes, and for you to notice his own. He gulps, swallowing a lump in his throat, and his eyes drop to the floor. There’s a glaring red mark on his cheek, one that looks like it stings.

“Climb out the window,” He mumbles, gruff and secretive, “Take your bag, it’s under my bed. Wait for me down the road, I’ll drive you home.”

You don’t have it in you to argue with him, not when he looks like he’s about to burst into tears. You creep past the open door carefully, even though the footsteps have receded, both pairs, down the hallway and into a different room. You don’t have a difficult time climbing out the window, and you shoulder your backpack after your feet are firmly on the ground. 

Billy shuts his window behind you, and you’re alone now, in the darkness.

The side of their house is somewhat overgrown, twigs and leaves snapping beneath your shoes as you trek off-property. You follow the path of the street until you’ve passed other houses, and don’t seem to be lingering near theirs. Then the roar of Billy’s car travels your way, and his headlights bathe your stiff form.

He’s gripping the wheel tightly as you open the door, and he doesn’t look at you as you get in. It’s awkward, tense, and you have to sit on your hands to stop yourself from fidgeting with them and setting him off.

The drive is quiet; he’s shut off his radio. He drives fast, and this time you don’t have the heart to stop him. You’re still worried, but you think you’ve figured out why he drives fast, and you’re not sure you blame him for it anymore. He’s controlling what he can, because he can’t control most things.

You’re only five minutes out from his place when you first speak up, clearing your throat experimentally beforehand, “Do you... wanna talk about it?”

You glance over at him subtly, watching his knuckles turn white on the wheel. 

“No.”

“Okay,” You breathe, and bite your tongue to stop from speaking for the rest of the ride.

He pulls into your driveway with a rough turn, and you’re sure he only knows which house is yours because he’d seen you getting the mail two weeks ago while he was cruising through your neighborhood. On a different occasion, you’d commend him for his memory, but it seems inappropriate now.

You unbuckle your seatbelt without prompting, careful not to annoy him. But you can’t stop yourself, before you shut the door you peer down at him. Of course, he doesn’t look at you.

“Billy,” You start, carefully, cautiously, “You don’t have to talk to me about it. Or- or anyone. But if you ever need a place to stay, a safe place for the night… you can come here.”

You think he’s going to yank the door shut himself and speed off. And you wouldn’t blame him, either. But to your surprise, his eyes shift, no longer on the road ahead but on you. He glances at you through the mirror, still too timid to meet your eyes unobscured, but his gaze shatters you. It’s broken itself, and inside of his pretty blue irises is a child screaming for help. Pain pools in his pupils and threatens to drip down his cheeks in tears you wish you could wipe away before they even start flowing. 

“I mean it,” You promise, “Anytime.”

He holds your gaze, lips parting to whisper shakily, “Thank you.”

You leave him with a soft smile, throwing your bag over your shoulder lightly. You shut the door and watch him leave, much slower and more controlled than when he’d peeled in. When he’s completely out of sight you turn with a sigh, trekking up your front steps and fumbling for your keys. It takes you a minute to get in the door because of how distracted you are, and in your frustration you slump against the wood, remembering the feeling of Billy’s closet door nearly choking you.

You’re shaken up, you can’t imagine how Billy feels. And there’s no telling how often his dad does this, after all, it barely took anything to set him off. You hope he’ll be okay for the night, and for his own safety you wish he’d stayed with you. You wish he’d parked his car on your driveway, without fear of anyone smashing it, and settled on your couch for the night. But he didn’t, and when you crawl into your bed that night, you hope he’s safe in his own.

reblogs and comments are greatly appreciated! your feedback motivates me to write more, so thank you for your support :-)

[comradekatara]

Based on you own ideas of how the atla characters would develop in the future, in a time travel au which character do you think would be funniest to have wake up as their younger selves right at the start of s1? Sokka i personally think would hate it in a particularly hilarious way but i feel like there is also a lot of potential with ozai or king kuei for they ways it could derail the plot and confuse the shit out of everyone around them

LMFAO okay i am imagining kuei waking up one unspecified day and suddenly just knowing everything about the war while long feng continues to lie to him. this would be a really funny premise for a fanfic if kuei was even like. 20% smarter but unfortunately he’d just expose himself and long feng would have no choice but to imprison or straight up kill him and then claim that kuei contracted tuberculosis or something. ozai waking up back in power but with the knowledge of how he will be deposed is kind of terrifying, but i’m also laughing because that’s literally the plot of madame web. and yeah sokka would be incredibly frustrated because even more than before, he literally knows exactly what to do in any given situation, and absolutely no one is listening to him. and every time he proves his powers of prophecy they’re just like “wow!!!” and then continue to disregard everything he says anyway. the funniest thing about sokka Knowing is his relationship to zuko though, because zuko is the only person he actually does 180 on (unless you count aang, but like, eh), and it’s because zuko genuinely did suck and then he grew to suck a little less. but sokka would finally know what iroh meant by “he has good inside of him” and so he’d find ways to like. torture him. by quoting act 2 scene 3 lines 43-57 of love amongst the dragons while they’re fighting or something like that.

which brings me to the most obvious candidate. zuko is just clearly the forerunner here it’s not even a contest. everyone else grows a lot internally too, but zuko’s external growth is by far the most pronounced across the show. book 1 zuko literally has the opposite goals of book 3 zuko. so when zuko wakes up on his boat and has his stupid ponytail and is just like “what the fuck is going on,” he’s relieved to see that he’s in the south pole so maybe sokka and katara will have answers as to what is happening to him. and due to his lethal lack of tact, he still approaches their village in his giant hunk of metal and crashes through their wall and terrifies everyone. sokka is staring him down, preparing to die, clutching his weapons, and zuko just runs up to him and tackles him in a hug before sokka can even respond. and then he runs up to katara and hugs her too while she shrieks her head off and tries to fight him. and sokka is just standing there utterly humiliated because he couldn’t even defend himself against his attack….. and now he’s got his sister………. he’s a complete failure……… but zuko doesn’t even care that sokka is having an existential crisis and katara is screaming bloody murder, he’s just like “boy oh boy my best friends i sure am glad to see you :)” while they just keep trying to attack him and kill him. yeah, now that’s what i call comedy.

[genericpuff]

So I just read episode 275 and I’m sort of confused?

(I took screenshots, but the ask won’t let me include them so) At the end of the episode Hera summons these little balls of light(?) , maybe small stars(?) and then she casts them down onto Kronos.

I feel like that was really anticlimactic and not illustrated well. Along with the viewer not seeing Hera fight Kronos, a God that’s been tormenting her, her last attack(?) doesn’t feel right — like, there’s no power behind, if anything, I’d compare it to what a healers animation in a game looks like.

Rachel even emphasizes how strong and brilliant Hera is with Persephone, but then doesn’t show us anything. I know the scene was split between Hera and Hades dealing with Kronos physically and mentally (asleep), but it was sort of disappointing.

What I think really sucks about the setup for the Hera vs. Kronos fight is that, as cool of a concept as it is to have Hera and Hades both fighting Kronos in separate timelines, it fails on multiple levels:

1.) All the build up of Hera saying "I was created to destroy you" winds up meaning nothing because it cuts away to Hades for the entire fight

2.) When it does cut back to Hera, she's just kinda... sitting on Kronos? Like what did she do besides just breaking one of his fingers? Why weren't we allowed to see that? I think this is more so clearly Rachel's inability to write/draw fight scenes showing through, so she relied entirely on the Hades' sequence which was less physical fighting and more just Hades monologuing before turning Kronos into a diamond.

3.) And speaking of the diamond thing... so we're just expected to believe Hades could turn not just people, but Titans into diamonds? This whole time? How is he just suddenly able to do this? It feels like a shonen anime where the main character has a flashback to a scene from 3 seconds ago (in this case, Hades' conversation with Melinoe) and then unlocks a new special ability through it, but it somehow feels even less earned than it does in anime (and trust me, I can't stand that anime trope at the best of times LOL) Like at least in something like Naruto it's like... okay we have this ability Naruto's been trying to master and we've seen him work at it for a few episodes so seeing him finally nail it on the brink of defeat is like, really hype and fun. But Hades just turns Kronos into a rock out of nowhere when we had zero reason or build-up to believe that would ever be possible. Why not, IDK, have Morpheus finally master her ability to dream dive and use that to trap Kronos in an eternal sleep? At least that would have had some pre-existing foundation especially with how much of S3 was focused on the dream diving shit. IDK, the whole thing's really contrived and silly and relies a lot on the reader just going "okay! yeah that makes sense!"

4.) So Hades turned timey-wimey Kronos into a diamond... but then it cuts back to present Kronos who's just been somehow defeated by Hera through ✨magic✨ and that's just it? What about present Kronos? Is he just still trapped in Tartarus now? Why isn't he also a diamond if Hades turned some past form of Kronos into a diamond? Or was the goal just to free Melinoe so present Kronos couldn't keep using her powers? But who's to say Kronos can't just do what he did again by reaching through time to grab Melinoe and start the whole thing over again? Especially now that Melinoe doesn't remember what happened and would be none the wiser that Kronos has attempted this before? Is it because this is present Kronos whose time abilities were 'exhausted' to him 'long ago'? Then how was he able to pull Hades into the time-bowl to begin with? Again, just like the diamond thing, this entire conflict relies a lot on readers just shrugging and accepting it because there's zero foundation for the concepts that are being portrayed and thus zero logic besides "just go with it".

I can go on and on about it but at the end of the day LO just isn't a comic that should have attempted having any big Marvel fight scenes. This is an issue in a lot of romance comics that have gone on too long, they start to lose the plot around their third season and then just throw everything out the window for some other big plot that makes no sense within the context of the story. Somehow LO, a Greek myth fantasy adaption, made fighting the God of Time seem out of place and boring.

God I can't wait for Hades 2.

[heroinnne]

you and miguel ended on really bad terms

it’s not that he was a bad boyfriend or anything — well, he kind of was, he just wasn’t that bad, he was loving, sure, sweet at times, brought you gifts whenever he could, introduced you to some of his friends but, he had a really bad habit of prioritizing work above anything else.

work was always at the top for miguel, it was practically his entire life — he spent most of his hours either at his alchemax or at his office at your shared apartment, writing reports and whatnot.

that, of course, resulted with him spending less time with you.

over the span of the two years you dated him in, no matter how many times you chided and scolded him about it, he never changed his habit and when you finally at your peak, you blew up at him.

and after a really, really bad fight, things ended on really, really bad term.

it took you a while to get over him, but after some time and some wine, you finally did.

so now, why is he at the same bar as you, beating up a guy that was feeling you up?

you’re standing there, stunned with your drink in your hand watching the scene unfold before you, watching as miguel beats the absolute crap out of that perv’s face.

eventually, some people crowd up against them, and manage to separate miguel off of the guy, by that time, you’ve drawn yourself out of the bar.

unfortunately ( fortunately ) miguel manages to catch up to you.

he calls out your name and it stops you and you turn around to focus on him and he catches up to you.

his hand finds its way to your waist, and a concerned frown is etched on his face, “are you okay?”

you clear your throat, a slight blush on your face from the contact, “yeah.”

miguel notices his hand is at a place it shouldn’t be, and he quickly retract it — it’s not like he could’ve helped it though, given the fact that the two of you were ex-lovers, it was a force of habit.

a beat passes and he clears his throat. he asks, “are you sure?”

you try for a smile and nod your head, “i’m sure.”

another beat passes in silence, the both of you staring at each other, taking in each other’s appearance — you in a short red dress, with your hair and make up done, maybe you were he for a date, miguel thinks.

fuck, he’s missed you so much.

sure, it’s been six month since the break up, but miguel never really got over you.

he knew he fucked up big time when that fight happened, that fight that ended everything, miguel knew he was at fault yet he failed to admit that at the time.

maybe now he’s ready.

just when you turn and are about to leave, he grabs your arm, muttering a soft, “i’m sorry.”

your breath hitches, “come again?” you heard what he said, you just weren’t sure if you heard it right.

“i’m sorry.” he says again, his voice cleared this time, “for everything. for everything i’ve done. i’m sorry.”

and he means it, he misses you so bad and he’s matured enough now to suck up and admit his mistakes.

“i’m sorry for not giving you enough of my time, i’m sorry for putting work above you, i shouldn’t have done that and i know that i really fucked up.” he admits.

your heart is beating against your chest at his sincere words and apology, you know he’s being truthful with you right now.

“i miss you.” he admits, his voice soft.

a slight smile stretches at your lips, because against your bitter will, you missed him too.

“i miss you too.” and at your words, a smile finds its way to miguel’s lips.

“and i accept your apology.” you add.

he chuckles, and his heart is beating out of his chest with joy, “so we good?”

“yeah,” you smile at him, “i’ll give you a call sometime?"