#he takes the time in the middle of a fight to inspire someone else who isnt himself ...

[freisin]

nothing breaks my heart more than the realisation that mike was probably one of the most kindest scout leaders the sc ever had.

[respectthepetty]

Waiting for a Choice?

Nobody talks with Day. All of the interviewees talk about him but none of them actually speak to him. Mork was the first one to go back-and-forth with Day by asking him questions, and Mork looks at Day too. When he entered the room, his comments are at Day. Before that, everyone treated Day like a ghost merely haunting the room.

And even though this game of 21-questions is horrible, Mork says the silent part loudly.

Because to Mork, this is all about choices. He believes his sister chose her fate and abandoned him in the end. To him, he had no choice in the matter. She decided their futures for both of them. Even though she is dead, he has spent an entire year not living.

Day's family does this too. Night tells Day they are at the Society when they are already there. It's an afterthought to tell Day where they are going, and he doesn't ask Day if he wants to go in either. It is "where will you wait?" Where will you wait while everyone else goes about their lives? Will you wait here or there? Those are his options. To wait. He is allowed to wait while everyone else lives, but he can't participate.

This is a place for the Blind, yet Day can't go in, and when he does, the receptionist pities him, and his brother gets upset.

By all means, this place should be THE place for Day with its "Go confidently in the direction of your dreams. Live the life you've always wanted" inspirational word vomit, yet all the people stare at him.

Then, on the way home, Day's mother tells Night to speak to Day about the documents even though Day is sitting right there hearing the entire conversation.

Being a caregiver to a family member is extremely difficult. Mostly if animosity already exists.

And even though it's an English translation, the use of "have" is the subtle shift in a family relationship to a caregiver dynamic. A brother has to take care of his younger sibling. A brother now has to rely on his older sibling. Regardless if Night wants to help, he has to. Regardless if Day wants Night's help, he has to take it. They don't have a choice.

When Day exits his car, a point he made to Night, Night hesitates to go after him because they are in the middle of traffic and in the middle of a fight. Yet Mork runs into traffic to get Day, and for the first time in the episode, Day gets asked questions: "Are you okay?" and "Where are you going?"

It hasn't mattered if Day is okay up until now. It hasn't mattered where Day is going because he has to go where he is told. He doesn't have a choice. According to everyone else, he is a living ghost. He has been stuck for a year regardless of what he wants, so even when he gets home, his mother asks him one question without waiting for a response before immediately asking Night what happened.

So Day returns the small gesture of conversation to Mork by asking another living ghost if he has anywhere else to be.

Which jump starts their second game of 21-questions.

Because neither is telling the other what to do. Similar to their first conversation, it's a shit show, but they are both engaged in this shit show. They are not being told to participate. They are not being told what to do. They are being asked questions and they can decide to answer or not. They get to choose. And they chose each other.

Which leads to the mom finally asking Day a question.

Mork is going to be crap at taking care of Day at first, but Day doesn't need someone to take care of him. He needs someone to see him. Day isn't a ghost of his past. He isn't haunting his own story. And he isn't okay. He is unhappy because he has nowhere to go and nothing to look forward to . . . according to the people with lives. He is waiting.

So the guy who is also stuck with ghosts from his past haunting him simply asking questions is enough of a reminder that they are both very much alive, so they must make a choice to actually live.

Which is why Mork asking Day, not his mother or brother, but Day when he starts is very important.

Because these two are stuck in the present with pasts that haunt them. But now they have a future of endless choices.

They just have to ask the right questions.

No, not that!

Much better.

[blindmagdalena]

The Athenaeum Portrait

18+ 4.7k homelander x f!reader. established relationship, first time having sex, reader has a complicated relationship with sex, abuse of superpowers for cunnilingus, overstimulation, penetrative sex, lite sublander, praise kink, slight coercion, unhealthy dynamics, implied codependency, implied verbal abuse. just covering my bases here.

For every moment of love that is warm bliss on a summer afternoon, it is also an exercise in stumbling wildly in the dark. Never has this been more true in the case of Homelander, a man whose broken edges and unfinished seams have hardened into hazards that threaten to ensnare and maim anyone who steps too close.

You wouldn't have him any other way.

AO3 link. inspired by this anonymous prompt. thank you! 🖤

Homelander did not enter your life so much as he bull-rushed into it, a living whirlwind that uprooted you and hurled you into a familiar yet strange new world as unceremoniously as the tornado that took Dorothy to Oz. 

Vought Tower sparkles just as vibrant as the Emerald City, and provides no less surreal of a backdrop to your new life. Homelander's penthouse is a bizarre caricature of personhood, loaded with hundreds of years of American history. It would ring false, just another aspect of his brand, if not for the fact he can—and often does—regale you with a laundry list of historical facts on any piece in the collection.

This is how you find out that Gilbert Stuart is one of his favorite painters. When you ask Homelander why that is, he shrugs. "He painted over a thousand portraits, and he's most famous for the one he didn't finish. Ironic, huh?"

The Athenaeum Portrait, it's called. An unfinished portrait of George Washington that was replicated and sold by Stuart over a hundred times before his death.

The original was never completed.

The more time you spend in proximity to him, the more you start to understand why the piece resonates with him. You see replicas of him sold throughout the world on a daily basis, his face synonymous with Vought’s branding. There is a completeness to the commercial image of Homelander, America’s wholesome hero, but behind closed doors, you see his frayed and unfinished edges.

You feel his desperation for someone who will complete him in the way he touches you. He takes hold of your hands and brings them to the places where he is sketched at best, a ready and yielding canvas for your fingers. He likes when you stroke his hair, and sometimes touching his face turns his eyes glassy. There is a woundedness to the way he seeks your love, like he’s never entirely sure whether to expect the carrot or the stick.

You’ve never raised the stick to him, but it’s clear that those who came before you certainly did. It’s difficult to imagine that a man as powerful as him has been hurt like this, but he is a painfully obvious man at times, wearing his emotions like the scars his impervious body will never show.

When you lie down to read on the couch, he’s drawn to you like a magnet. He has no problem making space for himself within your bubble, sprawling on top of you, snaking his arms around your middle, his head settled on your sternum. You smile to yourself and rest your book on the top of his head as you read.

He gives a small grunt of complaint, but you’re fairly certain he’s smiling, too.

For every night of domestic bliss, so too are there sudden perils. Unexplained nights of absence, wild mood swings, fits of paranoia. He fights as many battles in his own mind as he does on the city streets and on foreign soil, a living weapon used to the fullest extent by Vought and the American government.

It feels like you lose him temporarily, like he becomes someone else. He paces around you like a caged tiger with his teeth bared, daring you to give him a reason to bite. You never do, and he never does, but sometimes you worry just how close of a call it was.

Occasionally he comes to you spattered in muck and bloody viscera. On these nights, he can’t seem to comprehend your presence, your gentleness, your love. It’s as if these concepts ring false in the wake of everything he has been made to endure. It’s suspicious to him that you would love something so repulsive, so opposite of everything Vought has polished his image into being.

He screams at you for this, takes you by the shoulders and demands you explain what he cannot understand, but you can’t. You can’t explain something that you don’t always understand.

Your relationship with Homelander is a delicious, precarious thing. Like a perfectly ripe peach, its closeness to something bruised and rotten makes it all the sweeter.

When things are good, they’re very good. He’s sweet, a romantic who learned everything he knows about romance from jewelry ads and Valentine’s Day specials. He brings you roses on random days of the week and adores showering you in gifts, especially the kind you wear. He tends to gravitate towards soft, velvety fabrics for your clothes because he likes the feel of them. He buys you perfumes that smell like vanilla and pink pepper. He likes fresh, warm scents. Nothing too floral or artificial.

Most importantly, he likes you. There’s rarely a day that the two of you don’t make each other laugh. His sense of humor is strange, but in the same way that yours is. Sometimes it feels like you’re two aliens creating a brand new language that only the two of you will ever know. The more time you spend together, the less the people outside of your relationship seem to understand you.

Not that it matters much. You spend the majority of your time with him these days, consumed by the excitement of this thrilling new thing the two of you share. Homelander is profoundly tactile, always needing to feel or touch you in some way. He loves to kiss you, content to make out languidly with you until your lips start to chap.

You’ve learned to keep lip balm on hand at all times.

Inevitably though, his hunger for intimacy outgrows quaint touches and kisses. You’re cuddled up together on his couch, only half paying attention to the movie playing. Homelander is nuzzling at your neck, pressing warm, wet kisses to it while his gloved hand slips beneath your shirt, fondling your breast through your bra. There’s something endearingly innocent about it, like a fumbling teenager piloting the body of a man in his forties.

Sex is nice enough. You have nothing against the act, but you’ve never felt as though you get as much out of it as the partners you’ve had in the past. Homelander’s touch feels good to you because it’s his, and because you know he wants to make you feel good in his enjoyment of you. You reciprocate by pushing your fingers into his hair, nails scraping along his scalp, eliciting a sweet, rumbling moan from him against your neck.

“Want you,” he mumbles fervently against your skin, his need so palpable it gives you goosebumps. “Can I have you?”

You knew this was coming. It’s not that you don’t want to fuck him, it’s that he’s not the only one whose portrait feels incomplete. You’re a fully grown adult, and never in your life have you managed to pleasure yourself to completion. In your youth, you’d just faked it for partners once you’d had your fill. With Homelander, you’re not even sure that would work. You’re not sure you would want it to.

He’s got a thing about lies, even little white ones.

You swallow and softly say, “Yes.” Ultimately, you do want him to have you. You just hope that what he gets doesn’t disappoint him.

He smiles into the crook of your neck, withdrawing his hand from beneath your shirt. He kisses you as he gathers you effortlessly up into his arms, carrying you to his bedroom. His strength is another aspect of why sex has made you nervous: the internet is full of horror stories of accidental sexual mutilation occurring between humans and supes. 

However, Homelander seems hyper aware of your fragility versus his power. He’s never harmed you. It seems to come naturally to him after years and years of navigating a world not made to withstand him. In the same way you’re capable of handling an egg without shattering it, he has learned how to hold you.

He lays you down on the bed, and then begins the ritual of shedding his signature suit, starting with his belt. You recline, content to watch him, but your gaze seems to make him uncharacteristically self conscious. You’ve never seen him without his suit before, another little quirk that you’ve largely just accepted to this point.

“Aren’t you gonna…” He gestures vaguely to you, expecting you to undress as well.

“Just enjoying the show,” you say coyly, attempting to lighten up a bit of the tension in his expression.

It doesn’t work. The furrow of his brows deepens slightly. “Ah, well. Y’know, the suit, they uh, pad it up some, so don’t–it’s different,” he says, fumbling over his words.

Your expression softens. “I know. It’s okay. I’m excited to see you,” you say, sitting up. In solidarity, you pull your shirt off first, and then wiggle out of your pants, kicking them off the bed. Homelander smiles at this, and works his pants off the rest of the way, kicking off his boots as well, leaving behind just a pair of dark red briefs. You sit up on your knees to help him with the fastenings of his suit top, which he seems to be the most apprehensive about.

To distract him from it, you kiss him. He melts eagerly into the press of your lips, slipping his tongue between yours with that same hunger to taste, to feel, to have. He’s bolder now that you’re no longer playing the part of spectator, shrugging his top from his shoulders and letting it fall with a surprisingly heavy thud to the floor. His ungloved hands skim up your sides, warm and positively thrumming with excitement.

You explore him as well, mapping out the slopes of his body that have previously been hidden from you. He’s leaner, more manageable than the ridiculous bulk of the suit. Part of you had always assumed there was a level of exaggeration in the chiseled, over the top musculature of the suit, but his build is still more slender than you expected. Regardless, it does nothing to detract from his raw strength as he catches you by the backs of your thighs and flips you onto your back, startling out a giddy bark of laughter from you.

He grins down at you, descending to catch you in another slow, consuming kiss, making space for himself between your legs. His lips trail from yours to the corner of your mouth, your jaw, your neck. He turns his head to messily suck two fingers into his mouth, and then slips his hand down the front of your underwear. He finds your clit with surprising precision–someone definitely taught him that–and begins to rub slow figure-eights over it, as gentle as he is deft. It does feel good, so you close your eyes and try to simply enjoy it for what it is, for the touch and warmth and intimacy of it all.

It doesn’t matter if you don’t come. This is still nice. You can feel his desire for you in the heat of his body, in the hot huffs of his breath wafting across your skin between kisses. He eventually slips a single finger inside you, patiently working you open. You drag your nails up his back and into his hair, breathing deeply, willing your mind to pause and let you experience this pleasantry in the same way you would a hot bath or a nice massage.

However, no matter how you try, the looming matter of expectation weighs heavily on your mind. You’ve never been comfortable with the attention being solely on your pleasure: it feels like dangling a treat in front of someone on a treadmill. They’re running for something they’ll never reach.

“Hey,” Homelander calls quietly, yanking you from your mental downward spiral. You see him above you, no longer tucked against you, working your skin with his lips and teeth. His brows are slightly furrowed. “You’re quiet. Am I doing something wrong?”

“No,” you exhale, the question immediately putting a wash of guilt through you. “No, not at all, feels good. I’m just really in my head right now,” you admit, cupping either side of his face. “You’re doing great, I’m ready. I want you inside me,” you tell him in a breathless flurry, pulling him down into a kiss. 

He does relax at that, sinking in against you for a moment before lifting himself back up. He shucks his underwear down and then pulls yours off as well, lifting both of your legs over his shoulder as he slips the panties completely off of you. While he does that, you unclasp and toss your bra aside. He turns his head to kiss the side of your leg before he lowers them both back down around his waist, lowering himself back down atop you.

The thick head of his cock presses wetly to your cunt, sliding up and down, spreading his slick and yours. You can already feel his excitement in the tension of his body, his shoulders drawn tight beneath your hands. You knead them, rolling your palms against steel-woven muscle. “That’s it,” you encourage, working to relax the both of you. “Nice and slow, mmm… Fuck, you’re big,” you say, biting your lip as he spreads you around the girth of his cock.

“You’re tight,” he moans in response, already sounding frayed. He moves his hips in slow, slightly jerky motions–clearly holding back for your comfort–until he finally bottoms out, keening so sweetly in your ear you can’t help but stroke his hair, hushing him.

“Good, good, feel so good in me,” you coo, the words a familiar script. He shudders for the praise, kissing down your chest, mouthing hungrily at your breast, the same he’d been fondling earlier. His mouth is hot and wet, perfectly pleasant as he sucks at your nipple, moaning into your skin. You cradle his head in both hands, adjusting to the onslaught of sensation. 

It’s been awhile since anyone fucked you. The feel of it is just as alien as you remember, but you’re distracted by the persistent swirl of his tongue alternating with the pull of his lips as he lavishes attention on one breast, and then the other. With his bare skin against yours, you’re more aware than ever of the superhuman frequency of his body, how he seems to literally vibrate with restraint and eagerness in equal measure. It’s like there is a line of semi trucks driving by you, the bed itself buzzing with it.

“You’re amazing,” you marvel quietly, tightening your legs on either side of him to feel that preternatural hum against even more of your skin, tingling your inner thighs. “You feel amazing.”

He grunts out a needy, strained noise at that, followed by a jagged thrust deep into you. To your surprise, you realize then that he’s coming apart, dull nails biting crescent marks into your skin, clutching you as tightly as he dare allow himself. You thought that maybe his powers would give him superhuman stamina as well, that he might fuck you raw before he came, but if the shaky cadence of his thrusts are any indication, he’s already holding himself back.

“I can feel how bad you wanna come,” you murmur, carding your fingers through his hair. “Mm? You can, you can come in me,” you say, feeling his whole body shiver from your words. You clench, tightening up around his cock so suddenly that it makes him gasp.

“Fffuck, fuck, oh god, y’can’t–fucking Christ, you–mmm, fuck!” He rasps, choking on his own breath as he comes, burying his face between your breasts at the same time he slams in deep, fading into tight, erotic little whimpers as he loses himself to the rhythmic clench of your cunt. You do it purposefully, milking him of his orgasm, enamored with how thoroughly you’ve reduced a demigod to these simpering noises. The flood of come is hot inside you, already dripping out where your bodies are connected.

All that, and he still never lost control. You doubt his fingerprints will even bruise, though you find a part of yourself wishing they would. 

Homelander comes down gradually from his high, limp against you, breathing shallowly against your skin. He looks dazed, eyes only half open. It’s cute, which isn’t a word you necessarily would have ever thought to associate with The Homelander before you started dating him. When he looks up at you, you smile, already more satisfied than you’ve been with sex in your life.

“That was playing dirty,” he tells you, voice a touch fried.

“I just wanted to make you feel good,” you respond simply, watching as he nuzzles into your hand.

He rumbles out a low hum, kissing your palm. “Which means it’s my turn to make you feel good,” he says, moving to slide out of your hands. You stop him, taking hold of his arm.

“You don’t need to,” you assure him, tugging gently to lure him back up. “Really. That felt incredible.”

He frowns, looking every bit like a confused puppy. “But you didn’t come.”

“I know,” you say, that ball of tightness coiling back up in your gut. “It’s okay.”

He exhales an incredulous little scoff. “What kind of boyfriend d’you take me for? I’m gonna make you come,” he says, shrugging off your hand as he moves down your body, sliding out of you.

“Homelander,” you implore, reaching out for him. “Really, it’s okay, you don’t need to–”

“What, you don’t think I can?” He asks. You can see the challenge in his eyes, but you also recognize the potential of a stinging wound to his ego in those words.

You sigh, folding your arm over your eyes as you lay your head back. “It’s not that I don’t think you specifically can, I’m… Eugh.” You take a deep breath. “It’s not something that I do. I can’t. I’ve never been able to,” you say to the darkness of your arm, fingers rolling apprehensively. “And I don’t want you to take this as some kind of challenge, and then be upset when it doesn’t happen,” you say, speaking from very specific experience.

The space between you is silent for long enough that your curiosity beats out your apprehension, and you lower your arm. Homelander stares at you from between your legs, expression pinched, eyes flickering slightly, as if he’s solving the world’s most complicated puzzle in his brain. His eyes narrow softly, his bewilderment showing.

“Like… You haven’t come… Ever?”

“Ever,” you confirm. “It’s not that I haven’t tried, there’s just something broken.”

He processes that a moment longer. “But all of this still felt good, at least… Yeah?”

“Yeah, yeah, of course it did, I liked it. You really do feel amazing,” you assure him, lest he think you were lying with what you said earlier. “It just never finishes for me. That’s all.”

“Alright,” he says, the gears in his brain clearly turning. “So. Sure, no crossing the finish line, but I can still, y’know. Take you for a cruise? A little joyride?” He asks, making you laugh softly.

He really is cute. Sweeter than one might expect, too.

“A joyride?” You echo with a quirk of your brow, smiling.

He smiles, too. “Yeah. No destination, just a little drive.”

“I can do a little drive,” you say, feeling that knot of tension in your gut begin to untangle itself.

“Good,” he purrs, shouldering down between your legs. “Gimme that pillow,” he says, which you promptly do. He slides it under your ass, adjusting your hips until the angle is just right. He smooths his hands up and down the outsides of your thighs, glancing up at you. “Now, you just sit back and relax. Close your eyes, and imagine some smooth jazz.”

“I hate jazz,” you laugh.

He laughs as well, breath rolling over your wet pussy in hot waves. “Well, fuck, imagine something you do like.”

Relaxing back against the bed, you exhale a deep breath, closing your eyes. The first wet, hot slide of his tongue makes you jump a little. He responds by gripping your thighs and pinning you still, which does admittedly run a little thrill up your spine. You test his grip by pushing against it, and when that fails, pulling away, but neither grant you any leeway.

“Squirming already?” He asks between drags of his tongue.

“I like feeling your strength,” you say through a pleased little smile.

He gives an intrigued hum at that and spreads your legs wider, forcing them down against the bed. To even your surprise, that pushes a small, thin noise out of you. Encouraged, he presses his tongue inside, lapping up the mess he made inside you. It feels fine enough, but after a bit of his tongue pushing in and out of you, you give his hair a little tug. “Clit,” you say simply, a command he happily obliges, drawing back up to suck your clit between his lips.

Without the looming pressure to achieve some kind of euphoric release at the end, you find yourself more capable of simply enjoying this for what it is. Homelander is good at this, but it’s really his persistence that elevates the experience. At no point do you feel him begin to waver or slow, or shift and breathe in impatience. He’s relentlessly consistent, swirling his tongue and lapping at you like he’s starved for the taste.

You sigh, idly scratching his scalp as you toy with his hair. “Mmm, that feels good,” you say, more aware of the effect your praises have on him. He makes an appreciative noise, nuzzling into your cunt. One odd thing is that your clit is starting to ache in a way you’re unfamiliar with. You shift back a touch, but Homelander pulls you right back in.

“Greedy,” you accuse, which draws a low laugh from him, the rumble of it making you shiver a little. You must be growing oversensitized. You’ve lost track of how long he’s been at this.

He pulls back, and the cool air almost stings for the loss of his hot mouth, but that ache was beginning to grow uncomfortable anyways. You’re just about to thank him for his service when a whole new sensation steals the words right off your tongue. You don’t even know how to describe it: hot, pressure, but weightless. Your whole body jerks, but Homelander keeps you still, forces you to endure whatever the fuck it is he’s doing now.

“Wh-what the fuck is that?” Watching him, comprehension dawns; he’s blowing on your clit, lips pursed, forcing out a concentrated stream of warm, almost hot air that has your thighs quivering in his grasp. “Oh fuck,” you gasp, equal parts bewildered and overwhelmed. You try to close your knees, but once again, his hold is completely unrelenting, keeping them spread wide. Immediately that same ache is skyrocketing back up, spreading tightness low in your belly.

“Hold on,” you groan, gripping his hair tighter. You expect it to end before too long, for him to at least need to inhale, but beyond all logic and reason, he just keeps going. The heat of it is surreal, the weightless pressure of it constant. Your toes curl, heels digging into the bed while every muscle in your body starts to lock up.

Homelander’s gaze flickers up to meet yours, nothing pure wicked delight in his eyes. Just as suddenly, he descends upon you, tongue feeling hotter and wetter than ever as he dotes on your clit with it, focusing it with alarming precision. The abrupt change in sensation makes you thrash, stumbling over a stream of nonsense as you pull at his hair, that aching tightness now so prominent that you can hardly take in a breath.

“That’s enough, that’s–fuck, Homelander, it’s too much, it’s too much, s-stop, s–” your pleas erupt into a gasp because he’s focusing that stream of air right back on you again, the feel of it so surreal, so indescribable that your brain can hardly function around it. Your eyes roll back, you writhe, but he’s so much stronger than you’d ever really wrapped your mind around. He’s entirely unyielding in a way he’s never felt in your arms, against your body on the couch. He’s more inhuman than he’s ever been, and it’s driving you wild. 

Tears gather in your eyes. This  assault of sensation walks the knife’s edge of pain, but never quite falls over it. Your whole body is throbbing, and you feel like you’re going to fucking explode. He twists that knife by taking you again with his tongue, swirling and slick in contrast to the dry pressure of his breath.

“H-Homelander, Homelander, please, I’m–I’m–fuck!”

The world turns white, and suddenly you can’t breathe. You hear yourself make a strained noise you’ve never heard before, but it might as well not even be you. You’re somewhere outside of your own body, floating in a torrent of indescribable sensory input that is so alien to you, you don’t even feel real anymore. Homelander isn’t holding you still anymore, but you can still feel him slowly lapping at your throbbing clit, watching you through foggy eyes as he licks you through your first orgasm, no doubt tasting and smelling the endorphins that flood your body.

Every single taut muscle in your body snaps like the strings of a marionette, leaving you to collapse limply on the bed, panting through it as your soul gradually descends back down into your body. Blissfully, Homelander ceases his torment and joins you, laying sideways with his head propped up in his palm while his other hand rests on your hip, thumb rubbing soothing circles. 

“Oh my God,” you whisper eventually.

“Please, you can still call me Homelander,” he says, sounding just as smug as one would expect him to be after such an accomplishment. If you had any power whatsoever left in your lifeless arm, you’d smack him. However, he quickly makes up for it by drawing you gently into his arms, kissing your forehead. 

“I can’t believe you did that,” you say, more malleable than ever as he adjusts you both beneath the blankets. “I thought I was going to die.” It’s only a slight hyperbole.

Homelander laughs softly, beaming at you with pink cheeks and a sly, delighted little smile. “See? Nothing’s broken,” he murmurs at your ear, catching you off guard. That had been such an offhand remark, you didn’t expect to hear it come back around.

“What if I hadn’t? What if all that, and nothing happened?” You ask, adjusting slightly while he entangles his limbs with yours, bodies slotting together like jigsaw pieces. You’re both jagged in all the right ways, fitting nicely together.

He gives a small shrug, stroking his knuckles up and down your spine. “Still would’a been a hell of a ride. Not everything has to be finished to be good.”

Slowly, you smile. “Yeah. I guess you’re right.”

Loving Homelander isn’t always easy or good. There are times when he makes it hard, and there are times when you make it hard, but if there’s one thing you’ve learned in this lifetime, nothing worth doing is ever easy. Love may start as an incidental thing, a passion that ignites as readily as tinder, but the upkeep of it is more like pottery. It’s messy, and even once you get the shape of it right, you don’t always know how it will react to the heat necessary to give it solid form. It can be broken, it can be fixed, it can even be remade, but never is one the same as the last.

Still, even when it hurts, when it’s frustrating, when it doesn’t turn out the way you wanted it to, the euphoria of creating something so beautiful keeps you coming back to it. When the same love that burns you can also warm you against the cold, coat your throat like honey, and fill your night sky with stars to guide your way in darkness, it becomes impossible to let go of.

To love something is to heal it. Everything that is loved is beautiful, even things that are unsightly, unfinished, unappealing. Even things that are broken.

Finally, you think you understand why Stuart never finished his original painting.

He loved it precisely as it was.

[lizzaneia-elizalde]

Male Yandere Adventurer x Female Magical Maiden Reader

Just imagine a man who’s on an adventure or is like a hunter or something, coming across a magical maiden bathing in a body of water, and he just has to make her his

I was inspired by all those beautiful water nymph/maiden oil paintings that I thought this would be a cool concept if reader darling was the magical one for a change. Or what if yandere also secretly had some magic blood in him!?

Thanks!!! 💝

Yandere! Male! Hero! Isekai'ed Adventurer x Fem! Elementalist mage! Reader

💝 ANON! I love this request so much because I love worldbuilding. Making your own lore to magical worlds is just-- ack!

This time, this world will be the same as Yan! Villain's world. Hope you don't mind me putting more elements to the fic.

Also, my ask box is going to be open again! Finally. Lol. :3

Yan! Isekai'ed Adventurer's name: Aeron

A great Adventurer. Someone who defeated the Demon King by his own hands without any help.

From a nobody to the Hero everyone looked up to, Aeron shot up through the ranks of the Empire.

Charismatic, brave, strong, and determined, Aeron was somebody people underestimated before.

After all, he just suddenly appeared one day. In the middle of the throne room, nonetheless.

Begging for his life, Aeron pleaded the Emperor to not put him in jail for trespassing the palace. So, with the Emperor looking to take advantage of this man, he assigned Aeron to kill the Demon King by himself.

"Isn't that suicide?"

Yes, it was.

But Aeron is desperate. So he agreed to the quest and set off with only a few copper coins, a sword, bow, shield, stale bread, and the clothes on his back.

He's legitimately sent to die.

Only a human. Without any powers, nor he didn't go to the gym that much to have the physical prowess to even have a chance of fighting back.

He was so scared. So small, so powerless in a world filled with unknown magic that he didn't encounter back in earth at all.

He's someone who hopped from party to party, as people only saw him as fodder, or they just scammed him of free labor. Then abandoned once they realized he's off to kill the Demon King.

He tried so hard.

So hard for people to take him seriously.

But all he received was ridicule, harsh words, and spits or beatings for the people who went too far.

Humans, all they cared about are themselves and nobody else.

Selfish, hateful, and evil.

Are they sure the Demon King is the evil one and not them?

His body screamed in pain everyday as he hiked alone and taken advantage of. His wounds severe, his leg cut off. He tried so hard to be so understanding, but what is there to understand of hearts so filled with vile intentions?

Revenge, he was fueled with it.

He wants to see blood, he wants to see them suffering for the suffering he got. Tenfold.

Hero? He was no hero as he cut off the head of the Demon King who was innocent, and didn't do anything wrong.

Does he feel bad?

He feels too bad for himself to feel bad for others.

Waving the head of the Demon King, he trudges back to the Palace. Throwing the head at the feet of the fearful Emperor. Aeron sighs, knowing everything is finally going to his direction as the Emperor grants him Marquess status, after kicking the previous Marquess for corruption.

As the hero, he was regarded as a celebrity. Everyone loved him, and everyone revered him. Those who wronged him before though, now boasts of being his ex-party mates, and that they were the best of friends. Singing praises as if they didn't sling hurtful words to his way before.

Let's just say, they ended up dead the next day for even trying to say those words.

There's only one person who genuinely helped Aeron.

A mage, living alone in the woods on the foot of the Demon King's castle. She's somewhat of an enigma, capable of holding off monsters from trying to invade the Empire, especially the Demon King himself. Sure, the King is innocent, but only because he was not successful in invading the Empire yet due to her.

And she was you.

Truthfully, you were only a bored, overpowered mage who decided to protect the Empire one day. You wield all the main elements in a precision that nobody has topped off before, and sub-elementals in a way that other master wizards only dream of wielding.

OP, sure, but you didn't care about other people's feelings.

So, how did Aeron meet you?

On the way to the top of the castle, he had to take a bath due to being rancid. Showered with monsters' blood left and right, he hadn't had a bath for so long too, focused on killing the Demon King and nothing more. He didn't even care about his leg being gone as he hopped towards the stream.

Then, he saw you. Beautiful, ethereal you.

Bathing under the moonlight, the water cascaded down your skin and onto your curves, and down to the stream once more. Your hair, wet, shines as if stars sparkled within them.

Then your eyes. Deep, sharp, bored.

He was captivated.

"Who are you?" You asked, not even looking at him as you continued to wield the stream's water to make a pseudo shower. "Do not look at me like that, lecher."

Aeron froze, embarassed.

"Ah no, I just... Want to take a bath too when I saw you."

Your gaze looked at him.

"I can see that you really need a bath."

Aeron flushed red once more.

You cracked your neck before standing up. Aeron's eyes followed your every movement as you went up to him.

He could feel his heart beat increase in speed.

Then, feeling an itch on his leg stump, his eyes widened as a grotesque yet mesmerizing event happened. His leg is reforming once more.

"How did you..." He flexed his leg, in awe.

"Take a bath, you smell bad." You dismissed him before going away.

"Your name! Miss..." He yells, eyes erratic.

"Y/N. See you around, future hero."

And you left with a bag of gold, a mana infused sword, bow with mana arrows, and a shield made of obsidian.

The complete opposite of the Emperor.

His heart raced once more as tears fell from his eyes.

The first act of kindness he received in this world.

He vowed to repay you, so he took a bath, and headed straight to the Demon King to fight.

Now, he's here to pay back the kindness you gave him.

And he just hopes you recognize the man in front of you.

Or else.

After helping the Duke Eros in the war and earning another victory in his belt, Aeron rested his body in his chateau once more.

He placed his arm over his eyes, sighing deeply.

little dancing black sprites danced all around him as the sun filtered through the arched windows. These sprites started following him after he defeated the Demon King, and now he wields them like how a magic user does. He's still completely magic-less, but thanks to the sprites, he got to wield magic.

It was sunset, and Aeron just got back from reporting to the Emperor who gloated about the fact that this Empire just won another war.

"That freak." He muttered.

The current Emperor, who just succeeded the previous Emperor who mysteriously died with black sprites latched on his body, was a warfreak who wanted to spread his territory for fun, and spills bloodshed for the thrill of it. He's just the same age as Eros and Aeron, but god is he a crazy motherfucker.

Aeron stood up, letting the sprites dance around his palm as he casted magic on his hand. The sprite absorbed into his skin, making his arm pitch black with his veins dying the dark color. Creeping up to his arm.

"Portal."

The spatial frame cracked, forming a what looked like a broken glass opening.

It opens to the forest, the foot of the Demon King's castle.

His heart rate picked up once more.

He stepped forward, entering into the portal and being teleported into the forest.

One thing he got from the war he was forced to join is a ring with a jewel the same color as your eyes. One with an intricate carving and a unique design. As if veins popped out of the jewel, which was the centerpiece. It's embedded with fae magic that Aeron hopes is useful for you.

His steps heavy, the crunch of the leaves under you filled his ears. He's quiet, even his breathing light and seemingly not there. His time in the war, and fighting different beasts after the Demon King trained his body to perfection.

He stopped in front of the stream once more, a sense of dejavu knocked into him as he watched you bath once more there.

The moonlight filtered through the much bigger trees and into you below. You were much more magnificent than he remembers.

He gulped, itching to touch you, kiss you, feel you.

He felt pent up. But he knows that he should stop himself.

"*ehem*, my lady." He said, back straight and chest out. His eyes sparkling with warmth. "Remember me?"

You, startled as you didn't feel a presence, whipped your body towards him. A stark contrast to how you reacted before.

But, he felt his stomach drop when you looked at him all confused.

"Who are you?"

He suddenly clammed up.

Sweat started to riddle his face, eyes wide with betrayal.

This...

"I'm the person you helped before, my lady. The one without a leg?"

You hummed.

"I don't really recognize you..."

He started to breath heavily and shakily. His eyes, trembling, he tried to find signs of your form if you were joking.

But no, you were serious.

He took a step forward, his lips trying to say something. Anything.

You shrugged at his reaction.

"I help a lot of people, really. So I don't recognize you. Have I helped you? I assume I did, as you said."

But all he could utter was a helpless, silent cry.

This was worse than being exploited.

The only person who was nice to him when he got isekai'ed into this godforsaken world forgot him.

And you helped other people?

Not just him?

Something unknown bubbled deep into his stomach painfully. It felt like it was wrenching into a boulder he can't seem to lift away.

"My Lady... I..." His mouth felt dry.

You shrugged, snapping your fingers and making you instantly dry after you went up to the shore.

Wearing your clothes, you waved to him before going away once more.

Aeron felt sick to his stomach as he keeled over.

He never cried.

He refused to cry for the people who wronged him.

But now, tears flowed down from his eyes as he started to go under a panic attack.

"My Lady... Why... Why don't you remember me..." He sobbed out, his throat painfully clawing out cries of desperation. The tears soaked his cheeks but he didn't care. "You were so nice to me... Why?"

The fantasy he built inside your mind was now broken completely. He thought you will remember him. He didn't consider that you won't remember him.

He felt so lost.

What's all this for?

What is he fighting for?

When his lady doesn't even remember him?

He gripped the grass beneath him. A strangled cry finally gargling out of his mouth.

Why did he feel so attached to you?

Just because you were the nicest to him?

So what? You chose to be nice in this place filled with vile people.

He just wished you didn't.

He just wished you left him alone, maybe even be rude to him like others did if you would just forget him.

But no, you used your magic on him. A pathetic alien in this grotesque world filled with magic and discrimination.

He just wished he would die then and there.

As negative thoughts filled him, the darkness around him seeped into his legs and arms. Like the sprites, black veins crept around his limbs painfully and into his neck.

What is a hero?

His sclera turned black, his breathing became shorter and shorter.

Does a hero need to be always good?

Something poured inside him, making him gargle in pain. Drool dripped down his chin as he snapped out of it. He writhed in pain from the sudden influx of mana inside his body.

Why was he sent to this goddamn world in the first place?

He curled his toes, his body becoming rigid. Like a leech sprinkled with salt, he painfully clawed at his face as he moved around the place. His heart pounding fast, his mind pulsing all over the place.

Is the purpose of him being isekai'ed here is to save the world?

He hacked up blood, keeling over. The boulder in his stomach now a fiery acid he wished to dispel from his body. He vomits out blood again, but it was pitch black.

But if he was destined to be a hero, why is he suffering so much?

He wants the pain to be gone, he wants it off. He wants to ask for your help, to scream for your name to alleviate his pain like you did before. But no sound came from his mouth. Only black and purple smoke as his body underwent changes he never thought would happen.

Please, will you help this poor man?

After an hour, he shakily stood up. He felt that his senses got more sensitive, tenfold. He can feel every beast's emotion. He can feel overwhelming power inside him, same as authority.

After all, you were the light to his world.

And, as hundreds of beasts surround him, a sprite descended from above and placed a crown on his head. The monsters bowed to him. He numbly stood there, looking so disheveled but so ominous as he took a deep sigh.

Give this Demon King a chance, yes?

You flipped through your mythology book, lazily drinking tea.

You just finished eating dinner, and is now lounging at the roof of your treehouse. Intaking the mana into your body slowly, you had a relaxed form as you yawned from tiredness.

Then you felt it.

The sudden influx of demonic power converging into one place.

Your body shivered, goosebumps riddling your skin.

Coincidentally, the page you stopped on had the ritual of birthing the new Demon King.

After defeating the previous Demon King, a person experiencing the worst grief there is, someone who only received harshness and no kindness in his life, will be able to become the Demon King if a trigger happened. May it be betrayal of feelings, or if one act of kindness inside his unfortunate life suddenly turned sour. Creating the Ultimate Grief, the catalyst of the demonic power to surge inside that person.

Will you run away, or investigate, or stay?

You froze, not knowing what to do.

The only person inside the forest is the Empire's Hero earlier, who introduced himself to you.

What happened?

Is this related to you?

But you seriously don't remember him.

Or did you, and just don't want to acknowledge it by some reason?

Your trembling hand reached for your bag and hastily packed up your stuff. The previous Demon King was weak, somebody who lived for so long that his negative Demonic Powers were slowly depleting.

And the birth of a new Demon King is never a good sign.

This is one of the few times you cursed yourself for not learning how to do teleportation.

Two bags. Not enough but will do for now.

You need to warn the Empire.

"AH!"

As you grabbed the bags and tried to get out of your house, you stopped in your tracks when black veins crept on the floorboards, trying to reach your legs.

Heart rate picking up, you got up the couch.

You just knew that if these veins reached you, you are a gonner.

You clutched your bag, hearing a sorrowful moan outside the treehouse.

"My Lady... Why don't you recognize me?"

You're powerless against a newly awakened Demon King.

You can't escape him.

"You're my light, why did you forget me..."

Your walls creaked and moaned under the intense pressure Aeron was emitting. As if they were yelling at you for forgetting him.

"Was it because I was scrawny and dirty back then?"

He continued to wail outside of the treehouse. You tried casting light magic and dark magic, but they didn't do jackshit on the veins. They continued to try and wrap around your legs.

"My lady... Should I bathe myself in blood for you to recognize me?!"

Powerful wind blew away your front door as you screamed in terror.

Aeron stood on the archway, eyes bloodshot and crazy as his handsome visage was filled with grief, longing, love, anger, sadness...

"You're the same as them my lady..."

You searched his face, trying to recognize him. Your body was struggling to stay standing from the amount of pressure being pressed on your body.

Wait, something's coming in your mind.

As an attempt to speed up your memory, you hit your head with the heel of your palm. In a state of panic of wanting to remember immediately.

The floorboards groaned under his weight as Aeron stepped forward to you.

"Remember me, my lady. Please." Dark tears fell on his cheeks. "Please..."

"Ah! You... The man with the bloodiest stench, with the leg stump that I fixed!"

You spoke so fast that Aeron almost didn't catch it.

The wind stopped howling.

"You... You remembered me..." Aeron laughed, his eyes wide with manic desperation. "Oh my god, you do..."

Aeron slumped down, hugging your waist as he wept.

"My lady, you're too much! You should have told me that you remember me sooner!" He laughed lightly, holding your hand as he buried his face on your stomach.

The sudden shift in mood sent you into a harsh whiplash.

"I-I'm sorry." You whispered, not getting this man in front of you at all.

"I forgive you." He whispered, hands wrapped around you tight.

He feels so good now. No more grief, no more crying.

He just knows you remember him now. Nobody matters but you, and your recognition of him.

"My Lady, i'm here to propose." He suddenly said, making your blood run cold.

And, as he separated himself from you, he kneeled down on both knees, as if pleading you to say yes.

This man, the greatest hero of the Empire, was now kneeling in front of you. Awakened as a Demon King from the grief you caused. His eyes hooded, dripping with overwhelming affection for you.

What have you done?

You've condemned the Empire, this world to a Demon King once more.

"My life here in this Empire was the worst. Everyone hated me, took advantage of me, stole from me, abused me in every way possible. I lost hope, and was driven with revenge. But you, my lady. You showed me kindness when no one did, and I knew you are my soulmate." He confessed passionately, his voice dripping honey sweet with delusional feelings for you. "So, be my wife, my marchioness, my queen..."

You've got the Demon King and the Greatest Hero wrapped around your finger.

Be proud.

And, as you nodded hesitantly, he slipped in the ring he was fidgeting with earlier.

You flinched, feeling it tighten around your digit. Spikes digging slightly, making sure you cannot take it off of you no matter what.

You want to scream at him for this absurd ring, but the ominous smile he had made you clam up.

You are his salvation, and he would die without you.

So chin up, and hold onto the leash tight,

You won't know when this rabid dog will bite the hand that feeds him.

And you don't intend to fuck around and find out.

[alotofrandomfangirling]

Promises (liveaction!Roronoa Zoro x female!reader)

Summary: Zoro and you are protective of each other 💚

Warnings: cursing, violence, mentions of blood, bullying

A/N: well, this started as a request but turned out to be more of a collab?lol @smolbeandrabbles sent me the idea and the inspiration song, and helped me through it so this came out hahaha i hope you like it! This is inspired by the song "New Fears" by Lights 🥰 also, there's a small time skip in the middle and the two scenes in italic are flashbacks!

'"Cause I have these new fears that carry me through

Every bullet I'm taking for you

So just hold on tight

I'll be coming, I'm coming for you, oh oh

And every night

I'll be burning, burning for you, oh oh

And I will back you up, I will show you love

I will give you all I got 'til I cannot

Hold on tight

I'm breathing, breathing for you, oh oh

It hadn't been long since you and Roronoa Zoro had started dating. That meant you were still trying to figure out this whole 'relationship' thing.

Not that it was hard, not at all. You both really liked each other, so you were willing to do anything for one another. It was just that... both being inexperienced, belonging to someone was a new adventure you were going to face together.

And it wasn't like a big effort either. Even before you were an official couple, both of you were already inseparable, ever since you joined the straw hats.

You got along like no one, you were always by each other's side and there was no one who could understand each other better. It was like you were long lost soulmates.

But... you just didn't say it?lol

Maybe you were both afraid the other one would see you only as friend? Or maybe you were just stubborn af lmao

It didn't stop you from stealing a little time with each other every now and then though 😏

You specially loved your late night talks. You had lost count of how many times you went to his room (or him to yours 👀) late at night just to chat.

Zoro liked asking you about your life before joining the straw hats. He loved hearing your sweet voice giggling while telling funny stories about that time.

You, on the other hand, loved when he talked about his childhood and the promise he made to his friend. The glint in his eye when he talked about that dream of his, it was one of the most beautiful things you had ever seen. That's when you knew Roronoa Zoro was the strongest and most determined man you had ever met and you couldn't help but admire that on him.

You also had a lot of fun teasing each other lol you usually joked about his fighting when you were training together ajskajskaj you knew he was the most skillful fighter you had ever met, but you also knew deep down he was a softie, so you loved seeing the shy smile he gave you whenever you teased him.

- you sure you need all those swords to beat me? - you asked teasing and emphasizing the 'all'. You held your dagger on your right hand, the only weapon you ever used and that fit you so well it felt almost like a part of your body.

That made him chuckle.

- of course i'm not using all of them, i gotta take it easy not to completely kick your ass - he said smiling.

- aww you're not getting soft on me, are you, Roronoa? - you said raising one eyebrow.

Was that a small blush on his cheeks?! Oh gosh, he couldn't get any more adorable. You had to look away or else you'd be falling even harder for that man.

- ha, you wish - he replied grabbing his sword and getting ready to start.

The whole crew (except poor baby Luffy 😅😂) had already noticed something was going on. And they would tease you like hell for that.

But still you wouldn't say anything.

I mean, not until that day.

The day Zoro fought Dracule Mihawk. That day could easily be top 3 of "worst days of your life".

Of course you believed in him and supported him no matter what, but you knew what he was doing was dangerous.

The way Mihawk showed no mercy, Zoro's painful grunts, the gash oh his chest... everything felt like a horror scenario and you just panicked because there was nothing you could do.

Fortunately your friends brought Zoro to the ship again, where he was taken care of.

Zeff said you all needed to stay with him and keep talking to keep him alive, but you were so shocked you couldn't even think of something to say.

After some time and with the support of your crew, you finally gathered your courage and decided to speak to him, from your heart. You couldn't let your best friend die like that.

You approached him and started talking softly, not really sure what to say, but hoping the words would come out eventually.

- hey, umm... i guess... um... we miss you..?

You took a deep breath.

- who am i kidding? I miss you, Zoro. I don't know why i never said this before and, oh my, do i regret it right now, but I... - were he even listening? You weren't sure, you just had to get it off your chest - I really like you. You're one of the best people i have ever met and i love spending time with you, and the thought of never being able to do that anymore is freaking me out. I know I could never stand in the way of your dream, because i believe in you, Zoro, i really do. But i also know I should have done more... more to protect you - you paused a bit before letting out the next words - joining the straw hats and sailing on the Merry, it made me feel so brave... and i thought i got rid of all my stupid fears. But now i realize i have a new one. And it's losing you, Zoro. Please, don't leave me...

Your voice broke at those last words and you started crying uncontrollably, hiding your face in your hands. The thought of losing him really made your heart ache.

Until...

- stop crying, i'm not going anywhere.

You lifted your head so fast it almost hurt. You couldn't believe it.

- Zoro?! Oh my gosh, Zoro, you're alive - your voice almost a whisper as you hugged him, careful not to hurt him even more.

He chuckled, eyes still closed and wincing a bit from the pain.

- oh my gosh, i was so scared i had lost y-

A realization immediatly hit you and your face went as white as a sheet. Was he listening? Did he... did he hear what you just said?!

Oh no.

- umm... how much... did you hear? - you asked slowly, a bit scared of his answer.

- enough to say i feel the same - he said with a small smile.

Yeah, so that happened. Was it cute? Totally. But it didn't stop you from shivering whenever you remembered that fight.

Confessions aside, the sight of Zoro lying on the ground with a pool of blood spreading around still haunted you and you couldn't seem to get it out of your mind.

That day you made a silent promise to always protect that man. Of course you knew he was the Roronoa Zoro, infamous pirate hunter and master of the three sword style, but you swore to yourself you would do anything on your reach to keep him safe.

--------*------------*-----------*----------

You were at a bar at Logue Town. It was the evening and Zoro invited you to go there for his usual booze (lol). Chilling with your boyfriend sounded really nice after spending a whole day cleaning the Going Merry, so, sure, you agreed.

You were drinking and talking at the bar counter and everything seemed okay until you heard two familiar (and very annoying) voices.

- wow, check out the loser we found here!

- no way he still has the guts to show up in public after that.

You turned around and confirmed your suspicions: yep, Shinjiro and Aki, the bounty hunter brothers that were a pain in Zoro's ass.

You (unfortunately) had already met them a few months ago at another small island. They both had pitch black hair, were very lean and tall and looked so ugly they could scare babies with just a smile.

At that time, you weren't even girlfriend and boyfriend yet, but Zoro already told you how much of jerks they were. He explained they had been competing and picking on him for years and, when they found out he had joined a pirate crew, it only got worse, so you knew what you were getting into.

On your first encounter with them, you were able to leave before things got heated, but it seemed like this time it wasn't going to be that easy.

You were already opening your mouth to throw all the bad names you knew at the brothers, but Zoro softly put his hand on yours and mouthed "they’re not worth it". You trusted him, so you immediatly went quiet and followed his strategy.

Sadly, Shinjiro and Aki weren't that smart.

They sat by the counter too, not facing the both of you, but speaking loud enough for you to hear it.

- hey, Aki, did you hear what happened with a certain 'pirate' with moss hair? He challenged fucking Dracule Mihawk to a duel! - Shinjiro said ironically.

"Don't say that name. Don't you dare say that name", you thought.

- no way! He could probably be the winner of the "biggest idiot in the whole East Blue" award - Aki replied with a nasty laugh.

Your blood was starting to boil. Zoro alone was twice the man both of them could ever be: braver, stronger and better in so many ways. Who did they think they were to talk about your man like that?

- yeah, either 'biggest idiot' or 'worst swordsman'. I heard Mihawk could take him down with only a small knife, right into his heart - Shinjiro gestured like he was puncturing his own chest.

'Right into his heart'.

Those words echoed in your head.

No.

They were bringing it all up again.

Mihawk's eyes. Zoro's painful voice. Your desperate crying. All flashes going back to your mind.

It was like you were reliving that horror again. Zoro even tried to talk to you and distract you from it, but it didn't seem to work.

- what a joke. And how did he not die? - Aki asked, acting clueless.

- he was so pathetic Mihawk had to leave before turning him into pieces. Not before slashing him right on the chest. Legend says if you go to the Baratie right now, you're probably still gonna find his blood on the ground - Shinjiro said and laughed loudly.

That was the last straw. You got out of your trance and decided to do something.

- okay, that's enough - you said sternly and got up of your seat.

You walked up to Shinjiro and looked him in the eye, your rage nearly melting him.

- oh, yeah? What you gonna do about it, little girl? - he said mocking you.

- here's what - you said and punched him right in the nose.

He was so taken aback by your sudden attack he couldn't even form a reaction. Guess he really underestimated that little girl's strength, right?

When he was still trying to understand what happened, you kicked him in the crotch. Yeah, such a nice move that serves right to a dick that was badmouthing your boyfriend.

As he bent down in pain, you quickly grabbed your dagger (you had learned with Zoro to never leave without a weapon 😅) and hit the back of his neck with the hilt, making him fall to the ground, unconscious.

Wow... did you really knock out the guy?! I mean, of course you were a very skillful fighter, but you were surprised by your willpower and quick thinking over there lol

You took a quick glance back at Zoro with a smug smile and he was there watching the whole thing just like that 'white guy blinking' meme. His girlfriend was kicking ass? For him?! Could she become any more amazing??

When you turned around, Aki was fuming.

- what did you do to him?! - he screamed/asked.

- oh, don't worry. He'll only stay like that for a few hours. You should actually thank me for not having to listen to his stupidity for a wh-

You hadn't even finished your snarky retort when you saw him coming to attack you.

You were usually fast in your fighting. You weren't the biggest or the strongest, but you were very fast, and you were proud of that because it always led you to winning.

But (you weren't sure if the attack caught you off guard of if the sight of Zoro looking at you so impressed had distracted you more than normal) apparently that time it wasn't enough.

When you realized it, Aki had pushed you to the ground and you fell with a loud thud. And as if it weren't enough, you noticed he had a knife in his left hand. You could only notice a long gash starting to bleed on your right arm.

You looked at Zoro as if asking for help and he was looking at you, but he didn't seem like himself. You had never seen that anger in his eyes, it was like he was possessed.

As quick as you fell, Zoro unsheathed his sword and knocked Aki out until he was laid on the ground, the point of the blade only a few milimeters away from his heart. Zoro knew how much you hated unnecessary killing, but this guy had crossed a line there (he had hurt his girlfriend?!) and needed to be taught a lesson.

- you lay a finger on her again - Zoro said through gritted teeth, his voice low and menacing - and i won't be this merciful. Was i clear?

Aki nodded frantically and you could see it in his eyes he was regretting everything and praying to get out alive.

Zoro sheated the sword again and stepped away, still murdering Aki with his eyes.

"That was freaking hot". No shame, but these were your exact thoughts as you watched the whole thing, still sitting on the ground and looking up at him. That was until you came back to reality from your little daydream about your extra hot boyfriend and noticed your wound was still bleeding.

Zoro hadn't forgotten about that either and immediatly kneeled down to check on you.

- (Y/N), are you okay? - he asked very worried about you and checking your arm. The way he looked at you and his soft touch gave you butterflies.

- yeah, i just need to... bandage this up - you replied weakly.

- come on, let's get back to the ship - he helped you get up and you walked back to the Going Merry, him checking on you every 10 seconds.

When you got back to the Merry, Zoro led you to the room you shared (yep, now you were on the 'sharing a room' basis *wink wink*) and helped you bandage your wound. You realized it wasn't that bad and hopefully it would heal in a couple weeks (which was a relief, cause if it was worse Zoro would probably go back to the bar and finish Aki right away 😅😂).

When you were done, you started rambling:

- hey, um... thank you for standing up for me back there. I know taking those guys was stupid, but they were badmouthing you and bringing all that back, i just couldn't stand it anym-

- hey, don't mention it. I couldn't let that jerk hurt my girl and get away with it - the way he said "my girl" made you all fuzzy inside - also, you did it for me first, so you could say we're even - he said with a small smile.

You chuckled. How could he put a smile on your face even in moments like these? That man was really a blessing in your life.

- yeah, i guess that's what makes us such a great duo - you replied winking.

He let out a small laugh and kissed your forehead. With that, you both started preparing your stuff to go to bed. I mean, after everything, both of you needed some good rest.

Soon you both laid down and went to sleep, holding tight to each other, like none of you wanted to let the other go (and you really didn't).

In Zoro's arms, you started thinking about everything that had just happened. Neither of you hesitated in protecting each other in face of danger. That was the moment you realized how far Zoro and you would go for each other.

You didn't lie, you were really a perfect duo.

That thought made you feel even more thankful for having found each other and for being in each other's life like that.

It also made you think back to that fateful Mihawk fight and what you told yourself that day. You had made a promise and you were going to keep it.

But what you didn't know is that Zoro had made one himself too.

Of course he had already promised to become the world's greatest swordsman and to find the One Piece with his captain. But he could fit one more, right? And perhaps the most important yet: to be by your side until the end of your lives.

"I'll take two times the misery

And half the glory

If it meant you'd be the champion

Of the story

And I'll take two times the agony

And half the wonder

If it meant you'd get twice

Twice the thunder"

[eliashirsch]

God Tier Top Gun Fanfictions. A Masterlist. (3/3)

Part three of my fanfic recommendation! This one's for the best fics!

Winner Categories:

1. Best of the Best Authors (1/3)

2. Best of the Best Series (2/3)

3. Best of the Best Fics (3/3)

REMINDER! READ THE AUTHORS' TAGS AND WARNINGS!!!

Best of the Best Fics

Fics that shine bright as the stars. Make sure to check the author’s other works too!

ICEMAV

Kings of the Air by FabulaRasa @fabula-unica

Fighting and fucking: two things he did extraordinarily well. How could he have known what the effect would be when you combined the two?

This and COMPACFLT’s work directly inspired one of my works:) The writing quality is absolutely amazing. My favorite fics are those that have Ice returning to Top Gun and joining Mav as an instructor and this one just takes the whole motherfucking crown.

Indian Ocean. Present Day. by Jay Tryfanstone (tryfanstone)

Isolated on an aircraft carrier in the middle of the Indian Ocean, cut off from any source of information about the global political and environmental disaster which has engulfed the planet, Maverick and Goose struggle to make sense of an increasingly claustrophobic command structure and failing resources on board. When a refugee helicopter is spotted approaching the carrier, its pilot could be the catalyst for an explosive re-evaluation....

This fic man. This fic. It made me fall in love with post-apocalyptic fics. The writing style, the plot, Ice and Mav and Goose. Goose, man… Oh my god. If you read this fic you know why I’m still thinking about these boys’ fates. 

Rhinestone Cowboy by omnidirectional

That’s Doctor Iceman to you! Maverick bangs himself up and gets rescued by someone he didn’t expect. A Missing Scene featuring contrived situations, questionable life choices, gratuitous product placement, and shirtlessness. You know, everything you love about canon.

And it is absolutely everything I love about canon! I always love missing scenes or canon divergent. Not to say that I don’t enjoy AUs, but I love vibes like this the most where the story works alongside canon and elevates it to a whole other level. Mav and Ice and Slider feels correct.

Sleepless Nights by demiclar @demiclar / @slidersimp

Five times Maverick wakes himself up with nightmares and one time he's woken by someone else.

Fics about Mav’s grief over Goose’s death will always wreck me. This one in particular shows itself as a physical manifestation. I love love love all the guys stepping up and taking care of Mav, never once judging his pain. I’m a sucker for portrayals of the ugly side of grief.

Mal de Mer by saurora_borealis

"I thought you said you didn't get seasick, you little liar," Slider snaps. Maverick doesn't answer, head bowed, but Ice can see him shaking from here. Of all the times for Maverick to be sick, did it have to be on a night that Ice is ill too? Or: the carrier experiences some ocean turbulence. Even the most seasoned aviators fall prey to it.

This one has sort of the same vibe as the fic above. I never get tired of seeing the flyboys take care of each other<3

be my soulmate (and i'll be yours) by ChexMix

Of course Maverick dreams about finding his soulmate. Who doesn't? But he'd never imagined the possibility that it could be the Iceman. So when he catches sight of Ice's soulmark, it suddenly becomes all he can think about.

Classic Icemav soulmate AU. This is like exactly my type of angst and happy ending. Sometimes the things you’re familiar with are still the best:)

To Build a Home by LadyLanera @k9effect

Eighteen years before Top Gun Maverick, there was a home being built from ashes and ruin. When the dust finally settled and dusk fell, the house of cards collapsed, shattering three lives forever. Is it possible to rebuild, reclaiming the past in the future...when they're all hurtling towards their worst nightmare?

Goddddd. I love Mav’s character flaw in this. I love Ice’s maturity born from grief and sickness. I love Bradley’s anger and abandonment issues. I love that these three have hurt each other more than anyone ever could, but their love is still starkly present. My thoughts when I was reading this was that LadyLanera wrote their flaws so beautifully, making them human, and by doing so I understood their motivations and their actions. Amazing characterization. 

all is fair (in love and war) by dulcetines (evecstasy)

oh, ice, maverick bisa merasakan hati kecilnya meringis, ice, sori banget— hollywood menyelak lagi, kali ini dengan suara impersonasi terbaiknya: “teruntuk kuncen TOPGUN, yang mana di sana kuyakin matahari belum juga terbit sebersamaan dengan ditulisnya surat ini. aku ingin saat ini juga kau bersyukur tidak mesti mendengarkan slider ngorok di sampingmu. tuhan jesus. pria ini sudah kuanggap saudara sendiri, tapi terkadang ada saja hal-hal yang dilakukannya yang membuatku ingin menggulingkannya ke laut. kau apa kabar di sana? sudah berapa pilot yang kauhabisi egonya? apapun itu. jangan mati kebosanan dulu. aku bisa bilang begini karena surat-suratmu selalu mengancam demikian. ingat kau masih hutang makan malam denganku. dan sepuluh dolar. sampaikan salamku ke bayi itik. bilang aku kangen padanya. dan,” hollywood memalsukan dehem, sambil ia melanjutkan, “padamu juga. setiap detikku. ice.” begitulah.

Hehehehehe. Now this is more for me LMAO because as you can see, it’s written in Indonesian. Finding this fic in my mother language is like finding GOLD. Again, I love love love Icemav in their Top Gun era. This is for all of you Indonesian Top Gun enthusiast *blows a kiss* 

a higher fidelity by basedchamp

“C’mon.” Tori nudges him with an elbow. “C’mon. He’s cute. You can admit that one thing but you can’t admit this?” Gritting his teeth, Ice thinks very carefully about his next words. “He’s…” he trails off. “Some would say that…Mitchell is not. Unpleasant. To look at.” (Alternatively: the one where Ice and Mav learn to park bad, eat good, and love even better.)

Ice’s family, man… It’s refreshing to see them so supportive and loving. I’m guilty of making Ice’s backstory so tragic>:) But this one is heartwarming! I love the style and flow of the writing. It’s something that I want to achieve in my own writing as well, so kudos to basedchamp!

Tunnel Vision by brainjuicey (anzietyfreak) @brainjuicey

Instead of Ice biting the air in the locker room, he antagonises Mav by biting his neck, unknowingly setting off dormant Omega genes and sending him into heat. Everyone involved is forced to remain secure on base until they’ve investigated. AKA. Five Alphas, a Beta, and an Omega in heat, walk into an Air Base prison. Ramifications ensue. Alternative title, "Locked in Sex Jail With The Boys"

This scratched that specific part in my brain, man. ABO with the original cast of Top Gun? Sign me up, baby. Steamy and perfect. 

The Five People You Can't Escape in Heaven by V_Evergreen

Maverick dies, but it doesn't end there. Alternately: [“Hey, kiddo, are you with me?” Maverick opened his eyes and found that he could see. He blinked in the sudden light as his surroundings came into focus. Quite literally came into focus, as though everything around him was resolving into itself as he looked, deciding to form a lawn, flowerbeds, the tree trunk that he had been leant against. The sun was blinding overhead, high noon. In the distance, hazy and indistinct, he could make out a house. It looked vague, like a half formed memory but it was familiar. Just like the man crouched in front of him. “Dad?” He croaked.]

I was reading the original book (The Five People You Meet in Heaven) and came across this fic. Which in turn made me want to write my own rendition from the same idea.  That last chapter, man. It’s unreal how creative it is. A punch to the gut for sure.

(Here’s my fic if you want to read about it :) >> Estrellita)

He Ain't Heavy, He's My Brother by V_Evergreen

Five meetings between Thomas Kazansky and Ethan Hunt. Alternately: [Ethan heard the door click shut behind him and turned to ask after the papers when he was abruptly spun by a hand on his shoulder and pushed against the door. His first and immediate thought was that he was certainly being attacked. Kazansky had him pressed against the door, chest to chest, a hand around his wrist and then- oh. Oh no. He wasn’t being attacked at all, it was infinitely worse. He was being very thoroughly kissed. He pushed back against Kazansky’s chest and tried to think of something eloquent to say. “Um?”]

Another banger by V_Evergreen. Ice not knowing Mav has a twin and mistakenly kissing him is so funny. And the end is heartwarming as well. Love love love it.

Allies by Shearmouth

After getting shot down over a war-torn Iraq, Maverick makes some unlikely friends. They have something– a big something– in common. But all Mav really wants is Ice. Too bad he's half a world away, and even Mav can't run that on a shattered leg. Not with the infected chest wounds thrown in, at least.

Oh my goddddd. I keep being at a loss for words when describing these fics. It won’t do anyone good if all I wrote was goddd, oh mannn, it’s so goodddd. But it’s the truth. This one hits home so much. The risk and homophobia present when you’re in a place that punishes queer people for existing and being in love, how a single mistake will cost you your future. And it’s so heartwarming to see that even then, you’re not alone. Mav being helped to reunite with Ice and breaking down that since their relationship was private, Ice had to grief Mav alone. Man, oh man. 

There is a pain—so utter by CurSirrr

Pete Mitchell was fine. Completely fine. He didn’t feel dizzy with denial, or an utter trainwreck of hopelessness. He hadn’t shed a single tear or cried himself to sleep for the past week. His guts were twisting and turning, squeezing and cramping. His eyes were swollen and red, and his scalp hurt from his vicious hair tugs as he tried to understand the past week. OR Three times Bradley misses the chance to say goodbye before it is too late.

Just read the summary and prepare for a world of pain:) Ice’s canon death still haunts me. Good thing he’s sleeping away in his big house that he co-owns with Mav, regularly saves his husband’s ass, have barbeque Sunday with Bradley and Jake and the dagger squad, happy and healthy:))

keeping his cards close to his chest by Serie11 @oathkeeperoxas

It's not that Lucy wishes that her boss would be more open with her. It's that she quite literally knows nothing about the man, despite Admiral Kazansky being her CO for half a decade. Or: 5 times Ice successfully hid something from his staff, and 1 time Ice revealed his biggest secret

Love seeing Icemav seen through other people’s perspective. It adds so much to the universe. Ice and Mav being their usual old married couple while everyone around them suffers. Excellent.

'til I meet you there by adiduck (book_people) @adiduck

Maverick wakes up in the snow, helmet on, entire body aching intensely and parachute still attached. It takes him about half an hour of trekking through the snow to notice that there’s anything amiss. (Or: Maverick Mitchell is in the habit of talking to his ghosts. Usually, they don’t talk back.)

Mav’s journey through the underworld. This fic is just too creative😭Always a delight to see how loved Mav is. It’s so whimsical and confusing and so great.

the ships have come to carry you home by indigofudge

“Here it is,” Carole says, bringing Mav’s wheelchair to a stop. Mav’s mouth is dry. He aches for another cup of water. “Carole, tell me something, and don’t lie to me.” “Anything, Maverick.” “How bad does he look?” Carole is quiet for a while. Then she comes around and kneels in front of Mav, taking both of his hands in her own. Her eyes swim with tears. “If I didn’t know any better,” she says, voice breaking, “I’d think he was dead.” • Or, Goose is alive when they hit the water. That's enough.

Goose survives AU!!!! Huh? This isn’t canon? What are you talking about? Of course, Goose survives and the Bradshaw family is still whole and Mav still has his family and gets to have Ice too. What are you talking about??

Swallow by wildglitterwolf 

Ice is getting tired of Maverick's inability to be a team player. Maverick is annoyed by Ice's gum chewing. Ice is more than happy to get rid of it, he just needs a place to put it...

TT.TT Just… I didn’t know I like this dynamic so much…

HANGSTER

cruise control by res_judicata

Rooster’s plane goes down on a Tuesday.  Jake remembers that it’s a Tuesday because he had been out grabbing a quick bite for lunch with Javy and the little chalkboard on the wall of the cafe had proclaimed that Tuesday’s special was linguine in white wine with fresh mussels. (Jake deals with grief and love)

Made me cry a goddamn river. I’ve said this before, but Hangster is one of those ships that I had trouble getting into. When I first got into the fandom back in June 2022, I strictly read Icemav, never dipping my toes into Hangster’s relationship because I never felt the spark. But as time goes by I’m starting to warm up and have read more and more. This fic is one of those where it captured my attention instantly. I knew it was going to be angsty, but still holding out hope for a happy ending (just like Jake in this story). The grief that blanketed the whole writing only made the resolution more beautiful.

WHORES IN MY BED. by pornogirl

“Jake-” Bradley’s eyes have a wet glimmer to them, the kind of wet that looks like the beginnings of tears and Jake wants to kiss him so badly. “Jake, is it loaded?” Jake rolls his eyes at the question. “Open your fucking mouth.” (Author’s notes: it's really not as bad as the tags may suggest but like. read the fucking tags!)

I’m a freak and I’m not ashamed of it:) Basically, Jake's going on about how pretty Bradley is crying and scared. If this is your kink, definitely worth the read. I don’t know if it’s because I find it hot, but I don’t get the unsafe feeling as opposed to reading other works that have noncon elements. I don’t know it feels more like it’s both of their kinks or like something they’ve discussed before but Jake didn’t warn Bradley prior. Like CNC, I guess? Anyway it’s really hot and I have not looked at my retainers the same way;)

we're fools to make war by whimsicule @baroness-elsa

In a Walmart at three am, between beef jerky and tortilla chips, with the lights flickering above them like it’s the fucking twilight zone, Bradley wants him more than he’s ever wanted anyone. or: it's a hundred degrees in texas.

This is so Jake and Bradley I’m blown away by how right they feel. Seriously. I didn’t even notice this was 66k words. The vibes, the writing, Jake’s family. Oh hell. Definitely check out the author’s other works too! They’ve got a lot of other Hangster long fics:)

cinnamon and sugar by bottledyarn

Jake was slumped in the doorway, propped up against the wall beside the door. He was a strange, pale, near-gray against the dark backdrop of his apartment, and he looked—well… “You look like shit," Bradley said. – Bradley draws the short straw and has to take care of Jake when he's sick with a stomach flu. Jake doesn't want to be taken care of.

Sigh. Jake and Bradley, man. They’re the ship that you can shove as much angst as you want and it’ll fit right in with their dynamic. They’re just so stubborn!!!! The push and pull between them is magnetic, man. I think I get why people love them.

habits by rararatatouille

Jake and Bradley come together in a series of jagged stops and starts. They fall apart in the exact same way. In which habits are hard to break, even for the people we love most.

Mannnnn. Goddamnit. I think this fic converted me to like Hangster. I think this has become canon in my brain too. I can’t even. Just read it. Words aren’t enough to describe this fic. 

Days Like This by chase_acow @cowsalot

Jake's in Hawaii to lose himself after getting the Navy's first air-to-air kill in decades. Instead he finds a ramshackle diner, a cast of odd characters, and possibly the love of his life. Bradley goes to the Hard Deck to order waffles. He orders waffles. He goes to the Hard Deck to get some waffles. He goes to the Hard Deck, and who is this hot asshole acting like they know each other?

So good. A 50 First Dates AU. Jake just loves Bradley so much, man. And Bradley finally showing up in the end. Love really will make you walk miles across Earth for your special person<3

OTHERS

Other pairings, romantic and not.

Mr. Blue Sky by omnidirectional

Tragedy first brings Iceman into Bradley’s life, but he quickly becomes the steadiest presence of the boy’s childhood… until a betrayal tears their small family apart. After years of silence, can Bradley find the words to make up for lost time? Five times Ice sings to Bradley, and the one time Bradley sings to Ice.

Another one from omnidirectional. Ice and Bradley’s father and son relationship… Here’s one of the tags: Who Wants To Cry Today? If you’re up for emotional damage, click the link🫵

On Mighty Wings by PurpleArrowzandLeather @purplearrowzandleather-blog

Maverick raised geese over the years while Bradley was gone. Bradley does not know this until the flock comes home for the summer.

Short and sweet. Legend author as well. Love the geese preening Mav and Bradley sobbing while surrounded by honks. This is just too damn cute!!

Neglected by proprioception @mnstrfkr

"Do I look God-fearing to you, ma'am?" Maverick asked with a grin. "You most certainly do not," Carole said. "That's why I didn't marry you." "That and the mustache," Goose added.

Can’t forget about this GooseMavCarole fic of course! Hot and heartwarming. Absolutely amazing smut. This one sparked my brain to make a fanart of my favorite polycule. Their dynamic is just so fun!

Yearling by Fopperies , pohjanneito @pilvimarja

Alone in a cabin in the snowy mountains, Maverick is supposed to help Bradley on the path to presenting as an alpha soon. Bradley's body has other ideas.

Just gonna put this here… A different take on ABO’s biology, which I absolutely love. It’s so hot… Bradley, I feel you, honey…

Seeing a Trailer by daenabenjen42

In the aftermath of the Layton rescue, Merlin has questions.

Sighs for the millionth time. It’s so good. Again, I love the portrayal of Mav’s PTSD and grief here. And it’s not just him, but daenabenjen42 wrote about the other boys’ trauma too. I love it so much I must’ve reread this one about fifty million times. 

in between what's already done by crawsley

“We aren’t doing this,” Maverick says, firmly, and he’s tensing like he’s about to move, about to shove Rooster off of him, push him away like he pushed him away before, when all Rooster had wanted was some guidance, some help, some love and kindness and— Rooster bears him to the ground, right there on the rug in the entryway.

This is legitimately one of the first, if not the first fic I’ve read from RoosMav. I still remember clearly going home from watching TG:M in the cinema and KNOWING that there were definitely going to be people who ship Mav and Roo. I rushed to AO3 straight away:D Imagine my delight when finding this one!

shake my nerves and rattle my brain by BogBeast

This wasn’t supposed to be intimate. This was about punishment, humiliation, stubbornness and spite. Not this gentle crap that made him sigh, the hand in his hair making his stomach swoop with every tug, the heavy scent making his head feel foggy, the praises making his heart skip a beat. That shit is just weird. The horrifying realization that he’s hard in his flight suit has nothing to do with it.  - Mav's gotten them into a lot of weird situations, but giving blowjobs to their rivals because of a stupid bet has to be the weirdest one.

Icemav AND Sloose? SIGN ME UP, BABY!

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

That’s all of it! This is my list for now. Thank you all for reading through to the end! Let me know if you enjoyed any of these fics so we can gush about them together:) I hope you enjoyed my yapping:}

My works have always and will continue to take inspiration from others. So thank you for creating stories as beautiful and profound as these, dear beloved authors<3

If you want to see my bookmark collection of all of these fics, click here >> TOPGUN (Best of the Best) While you’re there, how about you read some of my fics too?>:) EliasHirsch

(PS!!! There will be a 4th part because there are definitely more good fics that people need to know about:))

[jtl-fics]

Fluent Freshman - Part 19

PREVIOUS

There’s a couple things about FF that might be good to know at this point.

1. There are few things in the world he hates doing more than asking for clarification or admitting he doesn’t understand / know something. The thought of going up to someone and admitting that he hasn’t perfectly comprehended the situation upon the first explanation is something makes his stomach twist like he’d just eaten Mango-Habanero ice cream.

He has figured out his own math theorems in the pursuit of not having to ask the math teacher to explain he doesn’t understand. He got lost in an Ikea once for over 6 grueling hours where he considered making a home there and living among the display rooms until his grandma grabbed him by the ear and dragged him to safety (the food court) and let him regain his strength (eat Swedish meatballs). He, to this day, is not sure about one of his foreign language friend’s names (how embarrassing he just keeps waiting for someone else to say it but they go by some insane nickname).

So he has become a master of piecing shit together on his own. He sometimes gets it wrong (Andrew, god how embarrassing) but for the most part 8 times out of 10 he can get to the right answer if he just has a couple pieces to work with. No one had ever actually explained to him how Exy works and he was too embarrassed to ask after the third week of practice in middle school so he just pieced together what he was and was not allowed to do through the art of trial and error. He’s even mostly pieced out the rules for the other positions.

So with the information he has gotten through people being bound and determined to talk in foreign languages in front of him he has an idea about the tenuous situation some of the older Foxes find themselves in.

He’s heard Kevin Day and Jean Moreau talk in French.

He’s heard that the anxiety in both of their voices as they talked about their futures and owing 80% of their salaries to the ‘Moriyamas’ and how nervous they were about getting on professional teams or else they’d be killed.

Captain Neil and Andrew are not always using Russian to talk dirty.

He’s heard Andrew soothe Captain Neil’s worries about playing for a professional team. He’s heard Captain Neil mention that at least ‘Ichirou’ would likely just kill him and not make a game out of it like his father did.

Organized Crime might have more to do with Exy than FF had originally thought.

(He had thought it. Plenty of times he had thought it but his Gran had warned him that he was overthinking things. That he wasn’t playing a sport invented by the Mafia. That he had caffeinated coffee instead of decaf. “It’s going to be okay sweetie. Just take a deep breath.”)

This leads into the second thing you should know at this point.

2.  Before he had signed with Wymack he had known the broad strokes of Captain Neil’s life. There had been a lot of news articles about it and Gran (bless her) loved trashy gossip magazines.

After he had signed with the Foxes he had done a bit of a deep dive on as many of their controversies as he could find. There’d been things from brawls on the court (worrying), player overdoses (concerning), a straight up MURDER (Oh god), and the very public breaking of the King of Exy’s arm resulting in his suicide (Warranted, that wacko was going to take off Captain Neil’s HEAD.)

But the thing that had made him actually a little bit, dare he admit, excited to go to Palmetto was the fact that Captain Neil was there.

For someone who froze for almost a decade, who just took it and didn’t have the balls to even react? Neil Josten is an inspiration.

This is someone who got away, who lived a life completely unlike FF’s, someone who knew how to run and more impressively someone who learned how to FIGHT. Captain Neil was being hunted but he still ripped people to shreds in interviews. Captain Neil was probably more scared of the Butcher than FF had been of anything in his entire life but Captain Neil was way braver than FF could ever hope to be.

Captain Neil was taken and tortured but he still fought. FF had seen the scars and Captain Neil is right to wear them proudly (though based on some conversations he has unfortunately overheard he is sure Andrew may have a role in Neil’s positive feelings about them).

FF had thought that he was being lead to his death down in a basement of a club (Don’t cringe. Don’t cringe. Don’t cringe. Don’t-) and he just trailed right behind the two of them without even an illusion of a fight.

Neil Abram Josten was a bit of a personal hero.

He’s proud to call him Captain Neil. He wishes Andrew hadn’t been there when Greg had mentioned wanting autographs because FF wants an autograph from Captain Neil but now Andrew has probably mentioned it to Neil.

Long story short, FF had looked into a lot of details on Captain Neil’s case.

Including two of the Butcher’s top men who were still on the loose.

Romero Malcolm and Jackson Plank.

He keeps his presence low but no matter how many times he blinks the man grumbling in Italian next to him continues to be Romero Malcolm.

Moreover Romero Malcolm continues to grumble about the fact that he is having a hard time finding ‘Nathaniel’ and that he’ll have to grab one of ‘The Wesninski brat’s friends’ to draw him out.

FF is a recently confirmed friend of Captain Neil.

FF who is standing next to this man, with his dick out, and trying to remain as invisible as possible.

After two shakes (Yes he was watching but only because he had to! He wonders briefly if he goes to the FBI if they would accept a description of Romero Malcolm’s penis for the wanted poster? Probably not but it is BURNED into his retinas.)

He watches as Romero tucks, zips, and then bypasses the sink entirely.

FF shivers at how unhygienic that is. Who RAISED him?

The door shuts and FF needs to get out of here ASAP but his hands are shaking with the sudden adrenaline of ’One of the FBI’s Most Wanted just took a piss next to me and is looking for me friend’. He pulls his phone from his pocket and ducks into one of the stalls. Even if there’s no door it’ll at least FEEL a little safer, a little more private. He needs to warn Neil, Warn Andrew, and warn-

The door to the bathroom SLAMS open and music blares in (palms are sweaty, knees weak, arms are heavy-) and his phone slips out of his hands and into the toilet. There are footsteps coming towards him and FF digs deep.

He’s in ultra stealth mode. He is the wall behind the wallpaper. Mantis shrimp can only dream of the color he becomes, the United States military have the CIA on the look out for him because he’s fallen off all conventional forms of radar and tracking.

He is a bargain fruit platter on a dessert table at a kid’s birthday party.

He is ULTRA stealth.

Romero’s gaze glides over him.

Then the man leaves (STILL DID NOT WASH HIS HANDS).

His heart is hammering in his chest but he manages to reach down and grab his phone. Well, Coach Wymack had gotten the extended warranty at least. (“Do you know what these fuckers do to phones? Josten crushed his last year in a fight with the Baseball team captain.”)

His phone’s extended dip into the toilet water had not done it any favors in working properly.

Well fuck.

He wipes his phone down the best he can. He wipes his phone down with some toilet paper before cramming it into his pocket (Sorry Nicky, he’ll wash the toilet water pants if they survive).

He sees a flyer on the wall of the bathroom and starts to think of a plan.

He rushes out of the bathroom (he still washes his hands because he will not have something in common with a man on the FBI’s most wanted list and he just dipped his hand into a CLUB TOILET) and clocks Nicky’s wild arm movements and WORSE clocks Romero just 10 clubbers away.

He sees Romero’s eyes lock onto Nicky and a smile that terrifies him.

He’s out of Ultra Stealth Mode even if every atom in his body wants to run.

He is so stressed and panicked that he has gone beyond his body’s ability to process that so all that is left is determination. He’s got a head full of a half-baked plan, a hand going to his pocket, a second hand on the only ‘weapon’ he has on him, and a stomach full of acid.

He’s pulling his phone out of his pocket before he can really let himself think about it and walking up next to where Romero is standing. He holds his toilet water phone up to his ear and does the one weird social anxiety thing that he had never done before.

He pretends to be on a phone call.

“Hey Captain Neil,” he says and in the corner of his eye he can see Romero’s gaze shift from Nicky (surrounded by an adoring public, covered in sweat and therefore difficult to grab - a difficult target) to himself (alone, shorter, and probably looking like he’s about to pass out). “Yeah I think I’m going to take a break outside after I grab quick drink and then a water at the bar.” He says because he has to be the easier target and he has to go to the bar. “Yeah, yeah, okay I’ll mention it to that bartender guy.” He says and pretends to hang up.

He turns and he walks towards the bar and feels his pulse in his throat go to the beat of the music (success is my only motherfucking option, failure’s not).

He only knows about the alley because in the car ride to Sweetie’s Nicky had mentioned that he wouldn’t let FF’s first time be out there. He had been embarrassed but it was the only way he knew to get Romero out of the club and away from where he could hurt Captain Neil or anyone else in the pursuit of that.

He spots the bartender who had gotten the drinks for their table and his mind completely blanks on the name but the bartender sees him and smiles. “Oh you’re Neil and Andrew’s new friend! What can I help you with? I thought you were-“

“Hi, yes I am Captain Neil and Andrew’s friend.” He says a little loudly because he can feel Romero behind him and he does NOT want the man to know anything about where Captain Neil was.

“Captain Neil? Oh wow that’s adorable.” The man gushes. “What can I help you with? I won’t ask for ID for one of their friends.” He winks.

“I’d like to order the uh…” he tries to remember the exact drink name from the flyer, “…the deluxe chocolate martini?” He asks and knows he got it right when the bartender’s expression shifts ever so slightly.

“Oh yeah, how do Andrew and Neil feel about that?” He asks and oh great a coded conversation. It’s nice to actually be having a real one of these for once instead of just perceiving normal conversations to have hidden meanings.

“They don’t know. They probably prefer that I order it instead of Nicky or Aaron.” He lets his eyes dart to the wide where he believes Romero is watching him.

“I don’t know if that’s true.” The bartender says, “Nicky knows how to handle a drink and Aaron’s not a lightweight either.” He adds.

FF struggles to find a coded way to say ‘It’s not that someone’s hitting on me too hard like the flyer mentioned. It’s that there’s a mafia hitman in your club.’

Finally after a moment, “It’s not the usual kind of drink they get.” He tries and the bartender looks confused by the statement, dammit. He struggles to find a different way to say it before the bartender smiles.

“Y’know you’re really cute.” He reaches under the bar top and grabs a piece of paper and a pen. “How about you write down your number for me cutie? We can meet up sometime.” He says. “I’ll get started on that chocolate martini for you.” He says.

HE COULD KISS THIS MAN.

“I’d like that.” He says.

He writes out a quick message on the small note paper.

‘Armed. After Neil. Looked at Nicky. I’m going to the back alley. Phone is dead.’

The bartender comes back and looks at his note. “We’re out of chocolate martini mix, can I get you something-“ He hopes the club lighting obscures how pale the man got, “something else?” He asks and FF can SEE his pulse.

“Can I just get some water then?” He asks.

The bartender nods and pulls up his phone and hopefully is dialing the police and hands FF a water. His hand grabs hold of FF’s “You don’t need to go out into the alley. You could hang in the backroom with me?” He offers.

There really are some kind people in the world.

“I think it’s better if I’m not in here for a bit.” He says back and honestly he needs this kindness and he has a spare bit of courage, “What’s your name by the way? Sorry I missed it.” He says.

The bartender swallows, “It’s Roland.” He says.

“Thanks Roland.” He twists the cap off of the water bottle and takes a sip.

He turns and pretends not to notice how Romero is trying to be inconspicuous pretending to be on his phone.

He makes his way over to the alley door and notices that Romero is tracking his movements but is not following him like he did to the bar.

His heart is pounding and he can’t BELIEVE he’s doing this. He wants to run, wants to hide somewhere, wants to become imperceptible but…but…

He opens the door to the alley as the bass of the remixed song finishes.

(You can do anything you set your mind to, man)

He lets the door slam behind him and he is alone in the alley.

He was not expecting a van to come to a screeching halt in front of the entrance and for a different face to appear climbing out of the car.

Jackson Plank.

FF looks at the ugly smile on the man as he walks towards him with a knife in hand.

Okay now what genius?

MASTERPOST FOR ALL PARTS OF FLUENT FRESHMAN AU

NEXT

5/26/23: EDITED. Can’t believe I forgot to put the Captain in front of Neil’s name on the meme. I’m blaming the accidental early awakening.

Per your requests:

@i-have-three-feelings​ @blep-23​ @dreamerking27​ @andreilsmyreligion​ @belodensetdust​ @rainbowpineapplebottle @yarn-ace​ @iwouldlikesometea @lily-s-world​ @obscureshipsandchips​ @booklover242​ @whataboutmyfries​ @sahturnos​ @pluto-pepsi​ @dreamerthinker​ @passinhosdetartaruga​ @leftunknownheart​ @aro-manita-muscaria @hologramsaredead​ @Chaoticgremlinswishtheycouldbeme @tntwme​ @tayspots @nick-scar​ @crazy-fangirl2524​ @blue-jos10​ @stabbyfoxandrew​ @splishsplashyouropinionistrash​ @sammichly​ @the-broken-pen​ @bitchesdoweknowu​ @very-small-flower​ @ghostlyboiii​ @its-a-paxycab​ @bisexual-genderfluid-fan​ @cheesecookie​ @theoneandonlylostsock​ @foxsoulcourt​ @blueleys @adverbialstarlight​ @elia-nna​ @can-i-just-stay-in-the-corner​ @nikodiangel​ @foxandcrow-inatrenchcoat​ @hallucinatedjosten​ @satanic-foxhole-court​ @vexingcosmos​ @chalilodimun​ @insectsgetcooked​ @angry-kid-with-no-money​ @queer-crows​ @lillyndra​ @themugglemudperson​ @readertodeath​ @apileofpillows​ @mortalsbowbeforeme​ @hellomynameismoo​ @next-level-mess @youreonlylow​ @interstellarfig​ @notprocrastinatingatalltoday​ @percyjacksonfan3​ @queenofcrazy27​ @bsmr261 @ghostlyscares​ @spencellio​ @adinthedarkroom​ @harpymoth​ @sufferingjustalilbit​ @anxietymoss​ @oddgreyhound​ @ohno-myhyperfixation-itsbroken​ @ken22789​ @atiredvampire​ @isoldescorner​ @not--a--pipedream​ @azure-wing​ @bushbees​  @roonilwazlib-main​ @crumplelush​ @foldedaces-paperbirds​ @thesenseinnonsense​ @let-tyrants-fear​ @ketchupfriesandallthingsnice​ @legowerewolf​ @deadlydodos​ @but-we-respect-his-craft​ @cariniqe​ @zanypersonapricotbiscuit​

The requests to be added to the tag list keep being spread out across a few different areas. If I missed you please just ask again in the replies I promise I just missed you.

As stated before if you’re up here and I spelled it  right but you didn’t  get a notification there might be something  switched around in  your settings that won’t let me tag you properly?

Lillyndra it worked this time!!!

[rollinouttahere-writes]

Pfft why can imagine the reader singing peaches to her crush 🤣😂🤣

Lucky: 🎶🎹🍑

The crush:🧍😳🧍‍♀️

Stawhats: 😳😱😭😡🤭

I don't know if you meant for this to be a request, but I was inspired. Absolutely none of this is canon to Lucky Break, this is straight up crack.

Can't Take You Anywhere

Yandere Straw Hats x reader x Smoker

1.9k words

warning for alcohol consumption

"This is all your fault, you stupid love cook," Zoro seethed from across the table. 

"My fault? How is this my fault? Do you think I put her up to this???"”

“You did!” Nami butted into the argument, “Why the hell did you tell her to ‘follow her heart’ when she admitted to crushing on someone?!”

“I didn’t think she was referring to him!” Sanji gestured helplessly to what was disappointingly, the man of your affection. 

“She looks like you with all the dopey faces she makes every time she sees him! Who else did you think it was?!” Zoro slammed his fist onto the table, not having any of Sanji’s attempts to shrug off the blame here.

Sanji’s face dropped and he sniffled loudly, “... Me.” With that he dissolved into a puddle of tears on the table they were all seated around. Well, all but one of them. 

You were seated at the piano in the center of the restaurant, which you had commandeered by shoving the actual pianist off the bench and threatening to kick his ass if he interrupted you. To say that you had possibly had a little too much to drink tonight would be an understatement, but none of them thought to cut you off, and now they’re all going to suffer for it. 

Not one of them could have guessed Captain Smoker was going to make an appearance, and absolutely not a soul in this restaurant would have been able to guess what you were going to do about it. 

“I think we all share some blame here for not stopping her the second she stood up,” Robin’s face was in her hands, too ashamed to even look at what was happening. “Especially after she said ‘this one’s for my one and only true love: Captain Smoker’.”

Now it was too late. Now you were drunkenly belting out a love ballad to a fucking marine in the middle of a crowded restaurant and none of them were willing to go up there and stop you. Everyone was too embarrassed to go and associate with you when you were acting like this. Except Luffy who was happily taking advantage of your now unattended plate.

Their discomfort was nothing though, not in comparison to the absolute mortification on Smoker’s face right now. All he could do was stand there in abject horror as one of the pirates he’s been chasing for months loudly, and publicly, professed her love for him. His cigars had fallen to the floor after he had bitten clean through them. You were slamming away on the piano, not particularly well, and chanting Smoker’s name like it was a damn prayer. 

“If it weren’t for the fact that all of you are still seated, I would think this is the most genius idea for a distraction ever conceived. I’ve never seen Smoker stopped dead in his tracks like this,” Tashigi was standing next to their table, a mix of second-hand embarrassment and pity on her face.

Zoro glanced at her, not even caring that she snuck up on them, “You’re not gonna help your captain?”

Tashigi looked on at the drunken confession wearily. She doesn’t get paid enough to run interference on whatever the hell was going on over there. She cleared her throat and shook her head, “No, Smoker prefers to fight his own battles.” It was a lame excuse, but no one called her on it. None of them had any room to talk right now.

Just as she said that, they could hear you take a deep breath and scream out more of this weird song you came up with, “Captain Smoker, at the end of the line, I’ll make you mine!”

Finally, mercifully, Smoker snapped out of his stupor and launched himself forward. One arm wrapped around your middle and the other hand clamped over your mouth, thankfully silencing you. As he pulled you off the bench, his head darted around, desperately searching for the rest of your crew.

Tashigi waved him down, appearing to take mercy on her horrified captain. He marched his way over there, doing his damnedest to ignore the stares and whispers directed towards him. It didn’t help that you were wiggling around like a fish, not a care in the world for the scene you just created.

Smoker got to the table and unceremoniously dropped you into your empty chair. The second his hands were off you, yours were on him. You spun around and threw your arms around him, nuzzling your face into his exposed chest. Despite all the alcohol in your system, you were somehow strong enough to resist being immediately pushed off of him.

“Smokey~! Did you like my song? I sang it just for you!” You looked up at him, a love struck smile plastered over your face.

Gags resounded around the table at the cheesy nickname, and Smoker couldn’t help but grimace, “Do not ever call me that again.”

All that got him was some giggles, “Oh my god, you’re so funny! C’mon Smokey, we both know you love it! I mean look at you, your face is all red!” Not only was his face flushed, even his neck and ears were turning red. Smoker cursed over how pale he was.

Nami, who was seated next to you, was trying to pull you off of the marine, ”Lucky I am begging you to stop talking.” And singing. She would forget about your debt to her if you promised to never sing again.

You swatted at her while your other arm still clung onto Smoker, “Nuh-uh, you can’t tell me what to do! You’re just jealous that I found my one true love before you did!” Obviously the only reason anyone would disapprove of your current behavior was because they wanted what you had. What you and Smoker have, you should say.

Smoker took advantage of your loosened grip to rip you off of him, taking several steps back for good measure. The look you gave him was devastating, tears immediately welling in your eyes, “Smoker? Where are you going? Did you not like it?” Oh god, you were even starting to choke up.

As much as no one wanted you to be with this marine, they didn’t want you sobbing in the middle of the restaurant because of him either. Smoker was now getting dirty looks from not only the Straw Hats, but also the patrons in this establishment who no doubt thought they were witnessing some sort of lovers quarrel. He ran a gloved hand down his face, hating every second of this.

“Lucky, you’re very drunk. You need to eat something and sober up,” he tried to gently turn you around, but this didn’t work as you managed to weasel your way past his arms and clung onto his waist like it was a lifeline.

Sniffling pitifully, you asked again if he didn’t like your song, “Did you hate it? D-Do you hate me?”

Smoker looked at Tashigi for help, but she was refusing to make eye contact. He risked looking back at you, only to see actual tears starting to drip down your face. His heart panged at the sight and he internally cursed himself for what he was about to say.

“It was… fine. I don’t hate you, please stop crying,” he awkwardly patted your shoulder, hoping that would be enough to calm you down. 

“Really?” You immediately brightened up, much to his relief, “I knew it, I knew you would! I have more songs I can sing!” Relief promptly turned to horror as you attempted to get up and return to the piano.

Smoker forced you back down, swiped a bread basket off a tray from a passing by waiter, and shoved the whole thing into your hands. “No, Lucky, no more singing. Please just eat something,” he was practically begging at this point, wanting literally anything to help and absorb the alcohol.

You openly pouted, but did start ripping off and eating pieces of bread. There was a collective sigh of relief from the entire table.

“Tashigi, we’re leaving.”

“But Captain, the Straw Hats are right here! We should apprehend them,” she protested. 

“I am not dealing with the rumors that would be started by dragging this woman out of here after what she did,” his reputation would never recover. That, and he didn’t particularly want to deal with listening to your drunk ass all night.

Just as he was walking away, grateful that you hadn’t piped up again, he caught a look of panic flash across everyone else’s faces. He saw at least three of them spring out of their seats to grab you, and he took that as his cue to leave faster with Tashigi in tow. He put two cigars in his mouth, and debated on a third after the night he’s had.

“Lucky no! Don’t you dare!” Nami was holding onto your arms for dear life, having just barely stopped you from slapping Smoker’s ass as he walked away. 

Zoro hefted you up into his arms and deposited you into Luffy’s lap, “Hold onto her and do not let go for the rest of the night.” 

Luffy immediately coiled his arms around you, not wanting you to get up and do anything else. He propped his head onto your shoulder and huffed at the whole ordeal, “Lucky, why do you have to like a marine of all people?”

“The heart wants what the heart wants, you wouldn’t get it,” you sigh dreamily, eying up Smoker’s retreating form until he was out of sight.

“Can’t we just leave now? Please,” Usopp pleaded, slumped down in his seat to the point that only his nose remained visible. 

“No, we need to give Smoker a head start, we can’t risk Lucky spotting him again,” Nami immediately shot that idea down. It’s not like she didn’t want to leave, she absolutely did, but she couldn’t risk everything that just happened repeating.

—

This had to have been the worst hangover of your life, you don’t think it could get worse than this. The events of last night were blurry, but not enough to save you from the crushing humiliation of everything you did. Currently you were seated at the table on the main deck upon Chopper’s insistence that the fresh air would make you feel better.

Due to your head being buried in your arms, you don’t see who’s approaching. Suddenly, something is dropped on your head, making you groan from the contact. You lift your head enough to glare at the perpetrator, “Nami why?”

The smug look on her face was enough to make anyone’s blood run cold, “Oh no reason, I just thought you might want to look at the newspaper this morning.”

Oh god. The look on her face promised that you would NOT want to see it, but it was too late to ignore it now. You sat up faster than you thought you could in your given state and snatched up the paper, only to almost scream when you saw the cover story.

“Scandalous! Pirate and Marine have lovers quarrel in restaurant!”

Immediately beneath the title was a picture of you clinging onto Smoker with tears and snot running down your face. Truly they couldn’t have gotten a worse picture of you if they tried. Not that Smoker looked much better with the genuine panic flitting across his face.

“He’s going to kill me,” you say barely above a whisper.

[rene-is-an-insomniac]

"Shall we?"

Neuvillette x Reader

2k+

Multiple things inspired me when I was writing this.

I hope you Enjoy!

Moon Eclispe obviously is not a real Fontaine event. It's just my excuse to write Neuvi and you dancing at a ball.

The Moonlit Eclipse, a former ball given for the Hydro Archon and her people to commemorate the fall season, was approaching. Things were busier in the Hydro country.

Shops were packed with customers, while melusines and other decorations adorned the streets. Lady Furina travels to the streets, giving little speeches to her people to get them excited for the event. She performs a tiny twirl, which elicits excitement from the spectators.

The ball was a tremendously popular event that everyone wanted to attend, but getting inside was tough for anyone who wasn't noble. Popular Fontaine and paparazzi figures had an easier time attending the event.

Middle- and lower-class people like yourself needed an invitation to even be permitted inside.

Your position as a ticket attendant at the Opera Eclaisse was going well. Given the increased amount of people you've been dealing with, today's trial appears to be quite popular. The salary was good, and the atmosphere was often chaotic, but Monsieur Neuvillette always made sure you and your coworkers were safe. You sighed softly, hoping that nothing goes wrong today.

"Hello, ticket for two?" A foreign couple comes up with funds for the latest trail. They take in the Opera House with astonishment.

"First time here?" They nod as you proceed. "This is the Court House, often called the Opera House. Monsieur Neuvillette and Lady Furina have their troubles here." You react by, giving them their change and tickets.

"Expect a bit of chaos, have a good day." You wave them away as they approach the door, until they notice a criminal being led out of the house near the other exit. He attempted to flee, but was apprehended and held once more. The couple next to you leaps and immediately enters the house.

Monsieur Neuvillette steps in for the next trial, past the man being led out. He passes you by just a single glance, surrounded by a pink aura. As he walks into the entryway where you work, his long white and blue hair sways in without a gust of wind. You gave a  smile as you watched him pass you.

His expression changed today, and he appeared to be nearly happy. As you immediately attended to the next customer, a tap on your window disrupted the image.

As you exited the Opera House, the sky was painted in orange. The bell tower in the distance is chiming, signaling the upcoming hour. You stroll outside, exiting just as the bell rings its final chime.

A gathering of people gathered near the fountain to cheer for someone. Fontaine's famed magician performed for the audience, pulling a few items from his hat. It appears that Lyney and Lynette's troupe performed tonight. Squeezing through, you make your way to the ferry back to the city.

"So what are you planning on wearing to the ball?" As you waited for the ferry, a group of girls dressed in elegant attire chatted nearby.

"I want to wear a pink dress with those pearls." Another girl scoffs, suggesting that her attire will resemble that one. A little quarrel breaks out as the girls begin insulting each other loudly.

A few spectators glared them down, but everyone else seemed to ignore them. Things became more severe as one girl was thrust into you. She turns with a humble expression until she scoffs seeing your attire. "Honestly, commoner, pick yourself off the ground; you will look pathetic." The others join in, laughing and shaming you even more.

"Sorry, ma'am, but you ran into me.” You brought up their fight only a few moments ago. One girl's arrogant smirk faded into an ugly frown, wrinkling her brow. She approaches with a pocketbook in her hand, her voice increasing.

"Do you dare to speak back to me? You are nothing but a lousy commoner." She starts swinging and smacks you in the head. Wincing, you try to get away from her, only to return the wrong way, falling into the sea.

Your uniform and hair were immediately ruined, much to your dismay. "Haha, you really needed a swim." The other burst out laughing as you swam your belongings to the platform.

Grab your belongings first, then swim back for your cap. After getting them back to shore, you noticed something was missing: your wallet. Looking around, you see it just underwater.

You dive down and grab it, unaware of the incoming aquabus. As you emerge from the water, your face comes into contact with the approaching boat before you can fully think. Pushing you back towards the platform, squeezed you until you were hauled out of the water by the approaching bus. You were gently placed back on the ground as Elphane raced off the aquabuscar to investigate.

"I am so sorry." The purple melusine bowed profusely to you as they checked over your injuries. 

"Please, board, let me take you to the hospital." "Ah, Monsieur Neuvillete, do you plan to return to the city as well?"

Is he here?

Monsieur Neuvillette attends to your injuries while Elphane ensures the boat is still operational. He assists you in carefully standing as she turns the boat right, allowing you both to embark.

"Uhm, Monsieur, I can stand now." He releases go, letting you stand. He looks at your figure before backing off.

"Uhm, you can enter now." The melusine stands at the top of the stairs before returning to position. You nod and swiftly find a seat toward the back of the steps. Monsieur Neuvillette is seated across from you. As the boat takes off, you stare out into the water.

You then sit silently as Elphane begins to speak. She asks if your trip went okay, only to receive an uncomfortable silence before moving on to another issue. You stare at your hands, embarrassed by what happened before.

"Uhm, I apologize if I made you awkward." He looks over at you.

"No, no, it's my fault for falling into the tract like that." You just wanted to curl up up somewhere where they couldn't see you. If Iudex noticed, he probably decided not to remark at all. Elphane continues her brief conversations as the boat glides back toward the court.

You hurriedly leave the dock and return home. You didn't hear anything else from the Iudex as you walked through the city towards your house.

In the days that followed, your routine continued as usual. Since Monsieur Neuvillette's schedule appears to be slightly modified. Now at work in the Opera Eclaisse, you see less of him. The people in today's trial  appeared to be less full than normal. Due to those reasons, your task began to slow down after a few hours. During that time, you were tasked with cleaning the windows and entrance. You clean the windows and sweep the floor at the entrance to Opera Eclaisse.

People in the courtroom could be heard whispering and twisting their words. AYou continue your duty until you hear Monsieur's voice calling the courtroom to order. You started blushing as you remembered how you embarrassed yourself in front of him and the Melusine tour leader the other day. You hope not to come across him again anytime soon.

As the day's final trial comes to a close, the day gradually fades into night. You wait for everyone to leave the courthouse before carrying out other responsibilities. You work intently on your tasks as someone descends the stairs. As you look up from your task, high-heeled boots come to a stop next to you.

"Oh, you're working late tonight." The man you were hoping to avoid stopped next to you.

"Ah, greetings, Monsieur Neuvillette." You keep your gaze fixed on the floor, determined not to make another mistake in front of him.

"One of my coworkers got sick, and he asked me to take over his shift, as there was no one else to cover it today." He nods, inspecting the items in your palm. As the conversation grows silent, you stroll over and put them away.

"Is there something that I can do for you, Iudex?"

"Are you attending the moon eclipse?" You stare at him puzzled; certainly he was aware that this event was not open to people of your status, right?

"Monsieur Neuvillette, someone of my status isn't allowed into the ball without an invitation."

"It's a ball for those with higher social standing to attend. Someone like me doesn't have any space there at all." You speak while still completing your responsibilities so that you can look up and return home. The Iudex stands there, watching your movements. When you realized he was tracking you, your movements became more robotic. Why was Monseiur still standing there? You gave him an answer.

"Would you like to attend?" You halt, staring at him with wide eyes. He glances back at you, waiting for your response.

"I'm not against it." He nods as he approaches the Opera Eclaisse's front doors. You shrug, lock the booth, and walk home more slowly than normal.

The night arrived as you prepared for the ball. A letter came in the day before with a gift for you, and a ticket for admission. Monsieur Neuvillette telling you keep the mask with you, should anyone deny you entrance.

You chose your best clothing and made any necessary modifications before picking up the mask that came with your admittance. The mask was the same color as Iudex's hair. You hold the mask up to your face. The mask suprisingly complemented the color of the clothing. You take small, deep breaths to relieve your nervousness before exiting into the night.

"Welcome to the Moon Eclipse." One of the men in charge of the ceremony addressed the audience of aristocrats. You could see upper-class women conversing with one another, and Monsieur Neuvillette himself standing at the front of the gathering, cane in hand. The speaker finishes his statement as music starts playing.

You pick up your dress and go far from the nobles whom were dancing. You keep your head down to avoid drawing attention as you make your way to the balcony.

"Oh, I don't believe that we have had the pleasure of meeting." A man dressed in expensive garments approaches you.

"I am Duke Myris, and you are?" He makes a slight bow before reaching out his hand to you.

"Nice to meet you." You bow to the noble and give him your name. He gives a slight nod before frowning at you.

"Name.. I don't think I've heard of you. Are you a child in the house of (insert name)?" You shake your head as his face shifts to a smug one.

"So a commoner at the Moon Eclipse." His words drew the attention of the noble women around.

"A commoner?"

"Who invited them?"

"They could have stolen an invitation; it's fitting of them to do that."

The women and other nobility slowed the music, focusing their attention on you. Sneers and critical looks were sent your way.

"I was invited." He gave a tiny laugh as the women laughed behind their fans. Your shoulders stiffened as you attempted to prove your worth here. The truth is, you are aware that you do not belong, but you should enjoy it. Monsieur Neuvillette had personally invited you, after all.

The lords and ladies' laughter halted as the man you were thinking about reached you.

"Hello, is there any issue with the person that I invited?" You push the mask closer to your face while the others gaze on in shock. Monsieur Neuvillette approaches, donning an outfit more formally than he usually does. The mask he wore matched the clothing you wore. Seeing the connections, the nobility who mocked you apologized profusely before retreating.

"Good evening, monsieur." You bow to him out of respect.

"Good evening, I see you managed to make it." You gave a slight nod, grasping the end of the mask that was held up near your face.

"Thank you for inviting me, Monsieur Neuvillette." You were ready to walk away when he extended a hand toward you.

"May I request your permission to dance with you?" You swallow anxiously and accept his hand. As you start swaying, the music begins to play. A wave of happiness seized control, and a grin rose to your face. He whirls you around, and you followed in harmony. As you dance, your inner mind screamed with joy. You attempted to calm your heart, thinking he wouldn't hear it. He focuses on the waltz, seemingly not hearing it; the music stops as he dips you.

Silence consumes the room before erupting in cheers. You look up at the Iudex, the mask taken away from your face. His blue eyes stare down at you as he gently lifts you back up.

[wangxianficfinder]

Fic Finder

~*~

1. Looking for a smut fic I remember reading. WWX was testing an invisibility talisman and ended up in the jingshi in time to watch LWJ masturbating, and rode him after he fell asleep. LWJ woke up and made WWX get rid of the invisibility after a bit. I think it was a roleplay between the two but I'm not fully sure

FOUND! Clinomania by malkinmalkout (E, 6k, wangxian, Voyeurism, Masturbation, Somnophilia, misuse of talismans, PWP, Riding, Oral Sex, binding, Happy Ending, canon typical non-con)

~*~

2. Hi! So I'm looking for this one fic, I remember that it was set in post-canon & Wangxian go to help this village, I remember that the Juniors (all four) followed them without their knowledge & the village had a barrier preventing people from leaving, the village had a curse where they got to see their close-ones negative memories, the juniors learnt of what actually happened to WWX & the villain turns out to be a "god" like on Dafan, it had 4 chapter (I think) & was finished. @i-like-snakes-and-spiders

FOUND? Down comes the night by danegen (E, 67k, wangxian, Alternate Universe, Canon Era, inspired by From, Horror, Sharing a Room, POV LWJ, no jiangs, a whole village of OCs, tiny mention of past wwx/omc, Happy Ending)

FOUND? unhappy stories with happy endings by Last_for_Hell (M, 30k, WangXian, Memories, Memory Fic, Kinda, Hurt/Comfort, Panic Attacks, sexual content maybe, References to Torture, PTSD, Characters Watching Their Series, kinda, but not entirely, very light consensual non-consent)

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3. good day! 😊 I read this fic before and I know that I've bookmarked it but I can't find it in the list. So the story is after wwx fell, baoshan sanren and lan yi rescued him, nursed him back to health, and waited for him to wake up. I remember that when he woke up, they also taught him cultivation (he got a new sword). He also hid his face (i think he also wore a different name and different voice(?)). There's a yi city scene where xxc asked them who they were because he cant see, then bssr is also with them at that time. thank yoooooou! 💓💓💓

FOUND! Until The End by abCEE (M, 365k, WangXian, Canon Divergence, war changes people, resulting to OOC, no pinning, Established Relationship, Mpreg, Good Uncle LQR, a little grey LWJ, a bit of JC bashing from LWJ, BAMF JYL, 16 years of yearning, mainly CQL verse but has scenes from the novel as well, LSZ is WangXian's Child, WWX Has a New Golden Core, Canon Rewrite, Happy Ending, Fix-It of Sorts)

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4. hi, I hope you can help me find this fic I've been looking for, I'm sorry I don't really remember much, just that WWX can cook non-spicy food but he does it on purpose, it might have been because of his time in the streets? or because someone would take his food? (maybe JC???)

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5. I cannot for the life of me remember anything else about the fic but I think it was cql based with lwj as chief cultivator? wwx returned to cloud recesses and the first thing he did was beat someone up for saying horrible things about lwj. I can't remember if it was multichapter or not so it might have been in the middle of a longfic?

FOUND? 🔒make this chaos count by devotedbones (E, 15k, WangXian, Post-Canon, CQL Compliant, canon compliant until the very last scene of episode 50, Getting Together, First Time, First Kiss, Hand Jobs, Chief Cultivator LWJ, a flute used as a melee weapon, Fist Fights, Gossip, Self-Worth Issues, Love Confessions, Mutual Pining, Mentions of Canonical Abuse, Minor Misunderstandings, [podfic] make this chaos count, by devotedbones by inkpens)

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6. this may as well be an itmf for its general nature, but it's actually a ficfinder! except. i only remember a single detail LMAO, and it's that wwx and lwj consider all four juniors to be their children, blood relation be damned. I'm so sorry i have literally nothing else to go on 😅 i think there's a similar theme in 'tragedy is not the end' specifically with zizhen, but not the exact detail im looking for... thank you for the help!

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7. Hi, first of all I want to thank y'all for the hard work, and I wanted to know if a fic has been deleted or if anyone has it, I don't remember the name but it was a time travel fic where Qishan Wen win the sunshot campaign and asked for war prizes (?) Zewu-Jun goes instead of his brother, Yanli is alive, they all have them captive, Meng Yao betrayed them and ultimately sided with the Wen's who were winning the war, and I think no one remembers Wei Wuxian, something like that, it would be great if someone could help! Thanks so much 🩷🩷

FOUND? The Way It Wasn’t by KouriArashi (T, 72k, WangXian, XiYao, Canon Divergence, Angst with a Happy Ending, Fix-It, (eventually haha), Slow Build, Family Feels, Moral Ambiguity, Eventual Happy Ending)

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8. Hi!!! Its me again!! Thanknyiu so much again!!! This time im looking for a time travel fic with lan qiren as the timentraveller. Pretty sure him and wen ruohan travelled together and MAYBE involved with each other??? Im not so sure but i do know that lan qiren time travelled. Sorry its not much thats all i remember hehe @sirius-bus1ness

might be one of Nirejseki's works. They wrote several on that subject (including in a big anthology work, so finding it might take some time)

FOUND? Cursed Couple by shorimochi (M, 121k, LQR/WRH, CSSR/WCZ, Time Travel, Canon Divergence, Out of Character)

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9. Hello, I am looking for a fic but I only remember a scene from it

It was a fic wwhere wwx died and there was a scene where a-yuan was crying while laying above wwx's grave in the burial mounds. Thank you!

FOUND? To Offer a Heart by WhiteCrane (M, 111k, wangxian, major character death, Sad WWX, Hurt WWX, YLLZ WWX, soft wangxian, Cinnamon Roll WN, WWX Whump, WQ is a good sister, WN is a good brother, everybody loves wwx, yunmeng siblings, Triggers, Suicidal Thoughts, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Fluff, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Heavy Angst with a Happy Ending, Taking care of WWX, Give WWX a break, Canon Divergence, Disturbing Themes, Changing Perspectives, Eventual Smut, Eventual Romance, Grief/Mourning, Temporary Character Death, Getting Together, Redemption, Sibling Bonding, Marriage, Marriage Proposal, Brotherly Bonding, Brotherly Love, Brother-Sister Relationships, Parent-Child Relationship, Sad and Sweet, Tragedy, BAMF WWX, BAMF JC, BAMF JYL, BAMF WQ, Slow Burn, Slow Build, Everyone Needs A Hug, WIP)

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10. Hi Mods (＾◡＾) I really hope that you can help me find some fics I've been looking for! (＾◡＾) if you can't that's ok, if you can then many thanks in advance! y'all are awesome!

A) this one is set during CR studies, and wangxian go on a date? in Caiyi and I think WWX gets emotional about something they are talking about? and I know they hug, and WWX don't want to let go.

B) this one wangxian gets married, WWX marries into the Lan, and there are a lot of rules specifically for married people/how to be in a relationship, I'm pretty sure that is a very big part of the story

10A)

FOUND! 🧡 Stunted, Starving Juvenility by TomatenMark (E, 712k, WangXian, WIP, Fix-it of sorts, Talisman master WWX, Not JFM Friendly, Study Arc, Getting together, Fluff and Angst, Engagement) The scene described sounds like something that happens pretty early on

10B)

NOT FOUND! Into the Oubliette by Ruixx (M, 124k, wangxian, JYL/JZX, graphic depictions of violence, underage, Growing Up, Fix-It of Sorts, Arranged Marriage, Time Travel, Sibling Bonding, Adopted Sibling Relationship, Canon Divergence, Light BDSM, Breathplay, WWX protection squad, Sunshot Campaign, War, Politics, Hostage JYL, Visions, LXC Redemption, general LWJ, Internal Sect Politics, Good Uncle LQR, Lan OCs, No Golden Core Transfer, Empire Building, Implied/Referenced Domestic Violence)

NOT FOUND! seldom all they seem by Fahye (E, 25k, wangxian, Canon Divergence, Arranged Marriage, or rather Arranged Betrothal, followed by Weapons-Grade Thirst)

FOUND? Wouldn't fall for someone I thought couldn't misbehave by failedcharismacheck (M, 15k, WIP, WangXian, Marriage Proposal, Fluff, Protective LWJ, Domestic Fluff, Kissing, POV LWJ, Hair Brushing, Implied Sexual Content, soft horny)

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11. Noncon tw. Looking for a fic where when the wens burn lotus pier, they threaten to rape yanli but Wei Wuxian offers himself instead. So the wen soldiers rape Wei Wuxian in front of the Jiang sect,l. Yanli cries

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12. Looking for a specific fix where Wei Ying is dead and the sects come together to watch through his memories and end up finding out for selfless he was. @aviidaviibiitchboii

FOUND! Misunderstood by Silver_Flame_2724 (M, 250k, WIP, WangXian, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Heavy Angst, Suicidal Thoughts, Canon-Typical Violence, Self-Worth Issues)

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13. Hi, I'm looking for a modern au where Wei Ying is a grad student in an orchestra and A-yuan is dropped off at his door by his cousin Mo Xuanyu. Wei Ying and Lan Zhan get together while caring for A-yuan and end up getting married. A-yuan has a fear of airports in this fic because of his abandonment issues. This was on AO3 but I can't seem to find it. @amindonbreak

FOUND! The Simplest Way Forward by harriet_vane (E, 70k, WangXian, Modern AU, Accidental baby acquisition, Kid fic, Green card marriage (but not really), Slow Burn, Endless Pining, Happy ending, [Podfic of] The Simplest Way Forward by knight_tracer, Translation into Русский: Самый Простой Путь Вперёд (The Simplest Way Forward) by grand_R, Spanish Translation, Turkish translation )

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14. hello! im looking for specific fic, where after burial mounds wwx thinks he's dead. instead of joining sunshot campain he storms nightless city and kills all cultivators without anyone knowing it was him (exept meng yao who survived but is wounded)

he then "haunts" yumeng for a while until he runs into wen quing and takes wens to burrial mounds

eventually ppl find out and together with meng yao they outsmart jgs to pardon all wens @chellsky

I can't find 14, but I do remember reading it; they ended up pretending Wen Qing was the one controling the dead and killing the Wen, and they faked her death

FOUND! can't find a way home by KouriArashi (M, 109k, WangXian, XiYao, XuanLi, ChengQing, Canon Divergence, Angst, Family, Grief/Mourning, Hurt/Comfort, Politics, Family Feels, Post-Sunshot Campaign, Developing Relationship, Canon-Typical Violence, canon-typical political bullshit, Mental Health Issues, Eventual Happy Ending, Descriptions of suicide, (caused by dark magic))

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15. Hello! I'm looking for a fic where Sizhui's bio parents are alive and come to Cloud Recesses looking for him (post-canon, iirc)

Hello! I'm #15 from the latest fic finder. I'm quite sure that the fic was on ao3. It may have been inspired from the angstymdzsthoughts posts but it was a proper fic posted on ao3

NOT FOUND! This Post by angstymdzsthoughts Mad idea, could 15 be from angstymdzsthoughts?

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16. Hi! I was reading a really interesting story about LWJ being cursed and WWX helping him and I lost it! Arg, now I'm so curious to know how it ends, I hope you can help me!

The story is about LWJ being cursed with a change in his private body parts. (The curse changes his p to a v). Then WWX notices this and decide to help LWJ and the way to revert the curse is that LWJ has to have an org@sm.

Can you help me? I'm dying to know how to continues!! 🤗🤗 @wangxiansgirl

FOUND! Coming Back to Yourself by acernor (E, 21k, wangxian, Vaginal Fingering, Cunnilingus, Oral Sex, Pining, Gender or Sex Swap, Vaginal Sex)

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17. Hi! Looking for a fic wherein wangxian married and suddenly Mo Xuanyu woke up again in his body, he fell in love with Lan Wangji but Lan Wangji just ignore or formal with him. Mo Xuanyu heartbroken tried to bring back Wei Wuxian Soul on his body

I feel like this might be in the angstymdzs collection, since I think it's was inspired by one of those asks?

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18. Kind of random, but I’m trying to find a fic I read awhile ago that featured hagfish? My memory of it is kind of vague, it was a college au and wwx was some sort of biology major i think and there were hagfish. Compelled to read it again because of hagfish reasons.

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19. Hello! I'm looking for a specific fic which I've seen in a few people's bookmarks but for some reason neglected to even mark for later. It's a modern AU where LWJ is looking for a pet sitter for his bunnies and is recommended WWX's pet sitting/walking venture (no dogs allowed ofc). Can you help? 🐇 @linderel

FOUND! A Single Note by airinshaw (E, 19k, WangXian, Modern AU, Getting Together, Mutual Pining, Kissing, Anal Sex, Fluff and Smut, Light Dom/sub)

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20. I search a fic where Jiang Cheng tries to ask Lan Xichen to marry him and Lan Xichen is super offended by it. Nie Huaisang may have done something to make JC fail even more in his proposal.

FOUND? To Take A Wife- Or Perhaps A Husband by Admiranda (T, 2k, one-sided LXC/JC, one-sided NHS/JC, JC's canonical homophobia, JC's canonical inability to get married, Decides to solve his problems with spite, not JC friendly, We all love NHS in this household, JC's canonical blind spots, Post-Canon, JC's canonical classism)

~*~

[class1akids]

BNHA 390 - Shoto Todoroki: Rising - Thoughts

I'm super-late with this, but the chapter dropped in the middle of my work month from hell. In the end, it was also lucky, because I was too busy to read the fandom reactions / discourse and got the space to process it alone.

I have to say that naysayers calling it "dragging" (when in reality, the whole thing is 3 tiny chapters) or "rushed" are both wrong. I think HK wrote exactly what he wanted to write, but whatever it was, it was never going to satisfy everyone.

It's enough to look at the Chapter number and title to know how much he cares:

190 - His Start (Endeavor's triumph)

290- Dabi's Dance (Dabi's big moment)

390 - Shoto Todoroki: Rising - it's finally Shoto's moment to shine.

But not only that:

Ch 39 - Shoto Todoroki: Origin

Ch 390 - Shoto Todoroki: Rising

Also, 39 can be read as "3-San 9-Kyyu" -> Thank You and chapter 390 will be included in Vol 39 - the "Thank you" volume.

Add to that the first words spoken by Shouto in his Rising chapter, and guess what... It is:

"Thank you, Iida."

Speaking of Iida, in advance I really didn't see him being a part of the Todoroki showdown, but in hindsight it makes a lot of sense. Iida is the first ally Shouto made by saving him and inspiring him, they had great foiling around their families since their start. Plus, Iida being there is like all of Class A being there - he's the president after all.

And not only that - Iida who was introduced as diligently kicking down robots for entrance exam points, even though in his heart he knew what the right thing to do was grew into the person he wanted to be, also thanks to Shouto. Someone who will put supporting his friend both emotionally and in practical ways first, use his speed to save people without hesitation and through this making a huge impact.

Their combo breaks the sound barrier - a feat that's really reaching the OFA realm is almost an afterthought - but that's not point, it's just the HOW they get to do what's right. Tsukauchi also gives a little nod to All Might - reminding us that he's behind this - putting his faith in Shouto and Iida - his students - that they can do this.

The way Shouto goes flying (probably carried by the momentum), as Iida yells his parting words - for Shouto to become who he wants to be - reminds me of a cat landing on his feet.

I love this sequence of Shouto hitting the ground and then taking that step that's so big that it doesn't even fit in the panel. It's far from his first step - he's been taking them again and again since his first visit to Rei. And despite all the hurt, disappointment, let-down - Shouto is not giving up on his family.

I think a lot of people loved Shouto's letter to Rei. It's endearing in its clumsy awkward way. As a quick reminder, Shouto started to write these letters after he failed the Licensing Exam and couldn't visit Rei, because his weekends were taken up with the remedial classes. It's the time when his unprocessed trauma prevents him from being a hero - even though almost everyone else passes.

The letter clearly shows that Shouto understands that him failing the exam has nothing to do with his fighting ability and everything to do with his lacking communication skills, so he's determined to improve. It's also the period where he has to step out of the safety net that Midoriya and Iida gave him, as he spends a lot of time with Bakugou.

And it's interesting that after Ch 352 focuses a lot on Class A as a source of reassurance for Shouto, his rising chapter focuses on how he learns healthy conflict. Because when it comes down to it, in the Todoroki family every conflict is either shut down (like separating the kids), or is blown out of proportion, like Enji abusing Rei.

But Shouto grows from the conflicts - he learns that these can help clear the air and be the source of positive change. Bakugou is prominently featured in these memories, reminding us how much both Shouto and him learnt about these clashes and how they came to understand each other better (which furthered both of their storylines).

Shouto wants to be like his friends - caring, outward looking, able to feel empathy and righteous anger.

Notice also the way the speech bubbles are placed. Who he wants to be above Rei, Fuyumi and Natsuo. And the "not easy, but I'm trying" above Endeavor and Touya as a tie-back to how being "Endeavor's son, Dabi's brother" impacts how people perceive Shouto.

And the way he runs - so desperate, giving it his all - ties back to all the times he was late before.

When Shouto enters the battlefield, it's the first time the Todoroki family shares a panel since Touya attacked baby Shouto. The mismanagement of fire from that time resulted in this - Touya turning into a live nuke about to explode and take everyone with him - the whole family and the innocent by-standers alike.

I already talked about Touya's POV - but it's worth mentioning that his line "It was so simple", circles back too to Shouto in the Stain arc.

It's difficult to see even the simple things when you yourself aren't seen. Shouto needed Midoriya to see him, to confront him, to call him out on his goals to realize that he gets to decide who he wants to be. And Touya needed his family to see him, to confront him also to be able to see Shouto not as some monster masterpiece, but as a crying little boy, fighting for his family.

And being finally able to see all of his family makes Touya realize he doesn't want to die yet, that there are things he still wants to say.

I don't mind that Shouto uses Great Glacial Aegir again. It's the move he made to save Touya, and it's honestly a perfect culmination of Shouto arc. Also this Glacial Aegir is a completely different scale than the previous one - enough to stop a nuke. But again - this is not about

Having it in play both times shows that Shouto did his best the first time around too, but couldn't do it because they weren't together. Because Touya's Phosphor is the endpoint of all the hurt and rage and jealousy piling up and simmering inside Touya and Shouto's Phosphor is all the hard work of healing and reconciliation and processing trauma. In the end, the power of healing overcomes the power of rage, it lights a light within the fiery core of Touya's nuke.

Shouto brings relief to both his family and the people caught in blast range. His name is not chanted by civilians, I doubt if he was even recognized by anyone, other than his dedicated fanbase of 3 kids. But it's a start. And more importantly he's doing what he wants - bringing reassurance to others while still being there for his family.

And just like in his Origin chapter, the mist lifts and Shouto is standing and I love this panel - such a good Shouto-like line.

He's not making fancy speeches - that's not his style - it's all clumsy but sincere. He starts by acknowledging Rei, Natsuo and Fuyumi - how their intervention mattered (maybe their ice was needed - but even if it didn't, them showing up meant Endeavor couldn't go through his murder-suicide plan and they brought precious seconds for Shouto to arrive).

Then Shouto addresses Touya framing this whole thing not as some ideological fight between villains and heroes, but a ridiculously powerful family fight between two brothers. And even as he's technically the winner, he acknowledges Touya's fire as exactly what Endeavor always wanted from Shouto.

His last line is heartbreaking and heartfelt, gracious and cruel at the same time - as it's right above Endeavor. Knowing Shouto it's just blunt and factual. He's not Endeavor masterpiece. He didn't go the way his father wanted and became who he wanted to be. Someone whose power doesn't separate him from his family, but rather uses his power, his entire being to bring them together - so they can work out their issues.

And I love that this starts with Natsuo - who was a source of honest confrontation in the family - kind of ignoring Touya's ranting as he asks him "what now?". Because this was the comedown from the tantrum of the century. And it's true that Touya and Endeavor dragged the whole family into it. They are all in hell. But they are all together.

And FINALLY - too late, Endeavor says what he should have / could have said back during the Touya reveal, or when they met again on the battlefield.

It's so little, so inadequate, so late, but it still matters, as evidenced by Touya's hollow eyes coming back into focus. And Enji does something simple and fatherlike, as he drags himself over to Touya to warm him as he keeps freezing from the inside. So simple. Such a small thing.

And finally the dam breaks loose and Touya can say what he wanted to say - express his hurt not via a nuke but verbal confrontation. And we see melting ice running down his face as the symbol of the tears he hasn't been able to shed for a decade, while Endeavor encourages him to let it all out.

Not healing yet - but anger - it's a necessary step in processing grief over what they could have had.

And Endeavor finally apologizes properly to everyone in the family - but when he gets to Shouto, he's at loss what to say either because Shouto is passing out or because where do you even start. Or maybe both. It's sad and it feels empty, and I think that's exactly how it's supposed to feel. Because getting to know all of the Todoroki family we know it didn't have to be this way - they all have capacity for goodness and they are all capable of caring for their family.

And in the end, Shouto, the family hero is still in the middle all alone - with no hugs or comfort, and not even a thanks - after he gave every last bit of himself to save the people who hurt him the most from the almost inevitable tragedy.

It's not a dark ending, nor is it a happy ending. It's sad and raw and the damage is real; both in terms of Touya's and Enji's charred body, and also all the trauma that has been exposed during this confrontation. A big flashy move can only take you so far, the real work - clawing their way out of hell starts now.

But for the moment everyone is alive, and sometimes that's good enough.

I don't know if this is how it ends for Shouto - I don't think so. We've had lots of clues that him becoming the family hero is the hurdle he has to overcome to stand with his classmates.

I still think that in the end we'll get an ending with the whole class coming to Deku - a Class A ending. But for now, Shouto is out for the count and I'm sure it will be a long wait. So strap in.

In the end, I hope we will see him smile - if not in the endgame, maybe the epilogue. He deserves it.

His Rising chapter gave us a glimpse of who he's grown into, what his values are as a person and as a hero. And I think for everyone who was worried that Shouto's endgame would be an acceptance of Endeavor, it is clear now that he's on his own path deciding for himself his own priorities and way of doing things.

And the fact that he didn't break away is because that's who he decided to be. Touya's looping explosion showed that you can't just save the "good victims". You have to save everyone - the innocent bystanders (Fuyumi and Natsuo), the person who doesn't want to hurt others but is broken by her own victimhood (Rei), the victim who becomes a perpetrator (Touya) and the source of it all (Enji). And since the Todoroki family is a small reflection of hero society - this is what will happen also on the large scale.

I'm sure there are people who didn't like the chapter - it wasn't enough of a closure, it wasn't happy enough or sad enough, it felt like the apology was hollow - if these are the things you are feeling think about that likely that's what Horikoshi wanted you to feel.

The Todorokis are an incredibly messed up family with lots of deep running hurt, trauma, and this is their reality. It's messy and raw and sad. There is no neat way of resolving it all with an ultimate move, no matter how fancy or powerful. But they are alive and they are together.

[normal-internet-user]

💜 here, you take your time with your irl stuff BUT just know that I 100% support you doing a part two of big sis reader getting revenge for Mikey against Bradford. Take him down a peg. Maybe like— fake enrole in his class and act all stupid and inexperienced then during sparring just LAY HIM OUT in front of his class/friends?! Or something like that? I know you can do it better 💜 but take your time and deal with life, stay hydrated and well rested, I’ll be patient.

I wasn't gonna write any fic about that little thought, but you hath inspired me! Also thanks for the reminders, they are much appreaciated, highschool can be pretty ugh-

CALL ME KARMA

◇~~◇~~◇~~◇~~◇

Summary: In which reader avenges Mikey by absolutely destroying Chris Bradford in his own dojo.

Warnings: None really, just Chris gettin his ass beat. and swearing.

Requested: 💜 Anon!

Female Reader!

....................................

"Hey guys, I'm home... what the shell happened?"

Donnie sighed, "So, basic rundown. Mikey was manipulated by Chris Bradford into thinking they were friends, but turns out he works for the Foot."

You felt your vision go red, the familar feeling you get when someone harms your brother creeping up, "I'm sorry, what?"

Raph huffed, "Some douche bag celebrity tricked Mikey."

You hummed, setting down your bag, "You said Chris Bradford?"

"Mhm."

"Ok, I'll be back later."

"You just got back." Donnie said, shooting you a questioning look.

"Yeah, where are you going, Ane-chan?" Mikey asked.

You looked back at him with a smile as you pocketed your wallet, "To either get ice cream, or commit a felony. I'll decide on the way."

Before anyone could say anything else, you left, leaving behind some very confused brothers...

You arrived at Bradford's dojo rather quickly, and you quickly plastered on a smile of feighned innocence.

Walking in you smiled at the man in question, and he paused his current lesson to walk over to you, "Can I help you, miss..?"

Ignoring his question of your name with feighned stupidity, you looked up at him, "Oh, I sure hope so! You see I'd like to sigh up for some lessons! It's just not safe for a young gal like me to walk around New York with no way to defend myself, so I thought, 'Why not go to the one and only Chris Bradford for help!' and so here I am!" you smiled innocently.

The idiot chuckled, "Well, I'm always happy to teach the younger generation, my assistant will give you an extra robes and discuss payment, then you can join the class."

When he turned around to continue his lesson, you smirked wickedly, this poor idiot had no idea he was about to be schooled, Hamato style...

The entire lesson, you pretended to know nothing of ninjitsu, all the way up to the end where apperently it was tradition for Bradford to spar any new comer to, 'See how much they learned' aka, 'Make myself look better'.

You stood in the middle of the dojo, Bradford standing opposite to you while the staff and students stood off to the side.

"I won't be taking it easy on you." Bradford said, snarkily in your opinion.

"Oh, I sure hope so, Sensei." you said, innocent act gone and a scowl present.

Bradford noticed the change and you could tell he had grown nervous, but knew he couldn't back out without looking dumb infront of his peers and students.

His assistant shouted, "Start!" and the fight began with Bradford attempting to pull you into a chokehold.

You dodged, and just the way your father had taught you to take down anyone bigger, you used Bradfords momentum to yank him to the ground, his arm held behind him with one of your feet on the back of his neck.

He tried to stand up and push you off himself, but you pulled his arm tighter, and placed more pressure on the back of his neck.

"Uh- uhm, f-finished!" Shouted his assistant.

You let Bradford go, and backed up as you bowed at each other. When you straightened, Bradford glanced at you with malice, muttering, "Who are you?"

You smirked, "Oh, you've met my brothers. I'm Hamato (Name), but you can call me karma, bitch. That, was for Mikey."

"How dare you come here, Hamato, and embarass me in my own dojo-"

"How dare you mess with my kyoudai?" You scowled.

You moved to collect your things, walking out the door as you shouted, "Send Oroku Saki my regards dickweed!"

You began your way home, stopping by a convenience store to pick up a big gallon of napolian ice cream.

You then arrived home, the gallon of ice cream in hand, "Kyoudai! Otou-sama! I'm home!"

Mikey ran into the main room from the kitchen, "No way, GUYS ANE-CHAN BROUGHT HOME ICE CREAM!"

Donnie walked in, glancing at the bag now in Mikey's hand, then at you, "So I take it you didn't commit a felony?"

"I did both." you grinned, taking the ice cream back from your youngest brother so you could actually get everyone some.

Donnie sighed, and Leo and Raph joined you on your way to the kitchen, "What did you do?"

"I didn't pay a dojo fee."

Leo looked at you confused as he accepted the bowl of ice cream you handed him, "Dojo fee- (Name) you didn't..."

"HA!" Raph snorted, holding up his t-phone to show a gif of you slamming Bradford into the ground, "Look at what's trending all over the internet, 'Chris Bradford gets his butt beat by a female student.'"

Mikey smiled, "No way! You beat up Chris Bradford?"

You nudged Mikey's shoulder, "Sure did. The idiot didn't stand a chance."

"Wow, you're awesome, Ane-chan!"

"Anything for you, otouto."

....................................

Quick little translation!

Otouto: Little Brother

Otou-sama: Father

Ane-chan: Older sister/ big sister

Kyoudai: Little brothers

If any if these are wrong, let me know!

[tippenfunkaport]

Bow's Character Arc

There was a discussion on Twitter from people who were confused about Bow’s character arc and whether he had one (he very much does, and it’s actually one of the clearest / most spelled out in the entire show!). To help anyone experiencing that confusion and because it’s never a bad idea to understand how character arcs work if you want to be a writer/storyteller, I might as well break Bow’s character arc down for anyone who might find it helpful.

Buckle in, it's nerd time!

At the most basic, a character arc is a change (usually growth) a character goes through over the course of a story. Usually good (positive change arc) but sometimes bad (negative change arc). It’s very often a reversal aka the character is often in the exact opposite state by the end of the story than how they start it out. It can be trickier to follow in an ensemble story like SPOP because there are a lot of characters with parallel story lines going on and multiple arcs colliding in different ways, but She-Ra does a really good job of giving each of the four leads arcs (with Catradora as the main leads, Glimbow as the secondary) near equal time.

Yes, including Bow.

What I think throws people about Bow’s arc is it’s based on hypocrisy.

Meaning…

He encourages his friends to talk it out and share their feelings… while hiding his own feelings from his dads and repressing his frustrations with having to be the middle man between Adora and Glimmer (Season 4)

He declares that average people (such as the kitchen staff at Dryl) don’t need the princesses and are just as capable of fighting the Horde themselves… while he believes himself and his abilities inferior to Princess Entrapta’s

He reminds the others (esp Adora) about the need to accept help… while refusing any help for himself (think about “Don't worry about me. I'm the one who worries about you. Can we go back to that? Please?” in Pulse through to that moment when he agrees to let Glimmer take him to check on his dads in Return to the Fright Zone and literally leans on her)

I think a funny way to sum up his character issue is: Not me, though.

This arc progresses across all five season as he gradually changes. He starts the series out repressing his feelings from both his family and friends while doubting his abilities and refusing to ask for help (he IS Adora’s mirror, after all!). Over the course of the series he learns to express his feelings instead of bottling them up (The Beacon > Reunion > really all of Season 4 but it comes to head starting with Boys Night Out through Beast Island > Stranded), gains more confidence in his tech skills (The Frozen Forest > Signals > Flutterina > Mer-Mysteries > Corridors), and starts to learn to ask for help (The Beacon > Pulse > Return to the Fright Zone).

Which of course all culminates in The Heart Parts 1 and 2 where he finally wraps up all threads at once by

a) asking Scorpia to trust him (putting faith in someone else to help)

b) completing Entrapta’s program to unchip everyone (proving he IS as good a scientist as she is)

c) giving the speech to everyone on Etheria rousing the common people to fight Prime (average people can make a difference… which he now fully believes that includes him).

And while you can make the argument that confessing to Glimmer is part of his arc to share his feelings, the fact is that he completes a full character arc without ever behind reduced to just someone’s love interest because none of his character growth is tied to his romantic relationship at all (which was what the original tweet claimed). It's all his inner journey to have faith in himself and his abilities and how they relate to his friends and loved ones.

And thus the guy who starts the series as “only one around here who’s not a princess” with doubt in his tech abilities ends the series as confident Tech Master and future King of the regular people he sought to inspire, which is about as textbook a reversal as you can get.

Does it come out of nowhere?

His character arc progresses and takes significant focus in the following episodes….

S1:E6 System Failure

S1:E10 The Beacon

S2:E1 The Frozen Forest

S2:E3 Signals

S2:E7 Reunion

S4:E3 Flutterina

S4:E4 Pulse

S4:E7 Mer-Mysteries

S4:E8 Boys Night Out

S4:E10 Fractures

S4:E11 Beast Island

S5:E3 Corridors

S5:E4 Stranded

S5:E9 An Ill Wind

S5:E10 Return to the Fright Zone

S5:E12 Heart Part 1

S5:E13 Heart Part 2

That’s 17 episodes out of 52 which means his character development gets approximately 32% of the focus of the entire show… which for an ensemble cast like this where he’s one of four leads is just about dead on as it's over a quarter of the episodes.

That's a significant chunk of screentime with multiple episodes devoted specifically to his character journey.

Is his journey as flashy and action sequence-y as what Adora, Catra and Glimmer get? No, but it's a) a show marketed to girls so it makes sense they get the more cinematic scenes and b) his arc is more emotional and thus didn't need to hinge on big action like theirs did. Though considering the culmination of his arc is him as a 100 foot tall hologram speaking to the entire planet, I personally feel like that was pretty hard to miss.

If you look at all of this and still want to say that Bow did nothing or had no character arc, I think the thing to ask yourself is: why is it so important to you to discount the accomplishments and character growth of this character specifically?

In conclusion, this is the face Bow makes when he spent five season growing, changing and kicking butt as Tech Master and Voice of Reason and you say he did "literally nothing"...

[asongofstarkandtargaryen]

SOME THOUGHTS ON JON IX, ASOS

I've read the battle at the Wall a couple of times but this is the first time it hit me how much tiresome was for all the black brothers who participated in it.

Jon's point of view gives us a realistic perspective inside the mind of a soldier. He barely even has time to sleep and even when he does, the fighting haunts his dreams. And how could it not? When the fighting is so loud that even the rare moments a soldier has to relax, they can still hear it:

Day and night the axes rang.

Jon could not remember the last time he had slept. When he closed his eyes he dreamt of fighting; when he woke he fought. Even in the King's Tower he could hear the ceaseless thunk of bronze and flint and stolen steel biting into wood, at it was louder when he tried to rest in the warming shed at top of the Wall. Mance had sledgehammers at work as well, and long saws with teeth of bone and flint. Once, as he was drifting off into an exhausted sleep, there came a great cracking from the haunted forest, and a sentinel tree came crashing down in a cloud of dirt and needles.

Most of them are simply sleeping on the Wall as it would take them too much time to travel from Castle Black to the top of the Wall everytime they desperately need to relax. Of course, this fact makes their sleeping breaks less relaxing as they take place in the middle of the potential battlefield.

Few of them ever left the Wall these days. It took too long to ride up and down in the cage. Castle Black had been abandoned to Maester Aemon, Ser Wynton Stout, and a few others too old or ill to fight.

Taking into consideration what I've discussed so far it makes sense for Jon to mention that all these black brothers are too exhausted to even have conversations between them:

No one spoke. They were all too tired to talk.

I feel the need mention here and during these agonizing moments for all Black Brothers, Jon is still injured and using a crutch to walk around. What is more, he's their de facto leader so he has to put a brave face and be someone who can inspire and reassure the rest of his brothers.

He's insightful enough to realise that some unorthodox jokes of some of the brothers make ( mostly Pyp) let the rest of them feel better. While such japes would be considered unacceptable and offensive by other previous leaders ; Jon's allows them. Because what matters the most is to elevate the spirit of his soldiers, even if that means using unusual methods.

To give you the context here these japes and how they affect the soldiers:

"Here come our breakfast arrows" Pyp announced cheerfully, as he did every morning. It's good that he can make a jape of it, Jon thought. Someone has to. [...] Jon had to think that it was better for them to smile at Pyp's jest than brood over Alyn's corpse.

The brothers had even started wagering as to which of the straw sentinels would collect more arrows before they were done.[...] It was Pyp who'd started naming the scarecrows after their missing brothers, too. "It makes us it seem as if there's more of us," he said.

" More of us with arrows in our bellies," Grenn complained, but the custom did seem to give his brothers heart, so Jon let the names stand and the wagering continue".

Jon also makes sure that his men are all well rest ( or at least as well rest as they can be under these conditions). That's why he urges Grenn to go to sleep when the latter admit that he hasn't rested. And how the tables have turned! Because in the past it was Jon's superiors who had to force him to take care of himself. And now he's doing the same thing for someone else. ( it's small bits like this ones that show the growth of a character).

Speaking of a character's growth, Jon on this chapter also tries to take care of himself too. He forces himself to eat his meals because he knows that he needs his strength in order to be able to lead the men he's responsible for. His survival is no longer sorely personal matter, his survival also guarantees a better chance of survival for the men who follow his orders.

As himself notes the other brothers are waiting for him to give them orders:

Satin, Horse and the others were looking for him, Jon knew, waiting for his orders. He was too tired, he hardly knew anymore. The Wall is mine, he reminded himself.

And so, the teenage injured boy who still walks with a crutch and hasn't participated in previous battles continues to lead his black brothers.

If we take into consideration his lack of experiences and the fact that they were outnumbered by far then the resistance black brothers showed under his command was impressive. Jon Snow was born to lead men as this chapter ( among a couple of others) proves!

[wordynerdygurl]

Yours

Author's Note:  Hello lovelies!  As promised, here's an Eddie Munson x Plus Size Female Reader for you to enjoy!

I was insanely inspired by @cicithefreakmunson and a tiktok they created, so do yourself a favor an check it out!

Pairing:  Eddie Munson x Plus Size Fem Reader

Summary:  Eddie needs to make sure that everyone knows who has your heart both in public and private.

Warnings:  SMUT, a fat phobic comment, fighting, mention of blood, swearing, sexy times, spanking, oral sex (female receiving), and some rougher relations in a committed relationship.  If I've missed anything, kindly let me know!



While Eddie was on stage, eyeing you from over the head of his guitar, the final notes of Corroded Coffin’s set swirling around the club, he had to watch some drunk choade stumble into your space, dick first.  This guy’s hands pawing at your wide curves, spilling his drink on you intentionally to make your shirt see-through.  Pulling you to him as you desperately tried to push him away had Eddie’s eyes clouding over at the audacity.  Didn’t this asshole know better?

To his credit, he did take a second to hand his six stringed sweetheart to Gareth before jumping off the stage in a flurry of hair, stomping your way, anger evident in the set of his shoulders.

“Hey baby, miss me?”  Eddie’s arms snaking around you, dragging you tight to his body to show everyone and most especially the sad sack trying to man-handle you, that you were already here with someone.

No, not someone.  Him.  It was him.  By some lucky roll of the die you were his girl and Eddie’s blood was boiling at the thought that this lesser man had the gall to even look your way.

Rising up on your toes, you let Eddie claim you with a long and hard kiss before turning back towards the interloper, smiling widely, “You know I always miss you, Eddie.”

Protectively, Eddie looks you over, barely keeping the icy edge out of his tone, “This uh, gentleman, bothering you?”

Shaking your head, you have to bite back a girly giggle.  He’s defending you and your honor against the groping goofus.  You’d be lying if you said it didn’t affect you; his brooding stare, the twitchy energy in his shoulders, all of his base masculinity on display.  If you weren’t in the middle of The Hideout, surrounded by metalheads and townies, you would have thrown yourself right at Edward Munson, reputation be damned.

But you know better than to push your beautiful boy, especially when he’s snapping with unspent adrenaline, plus, this little scene is already drawing a crowd.  Doing your best to diffuse the tension, your gaze never leaving Eddie’s face, you tisked, “Naw baby, he was just leaving.”

Circling behind you now, laying his chin on your shoulder while his arms circle your middle, Eddie was staring daggers at the intruder, “Then he should go then, right honey?”

Tired of you both talking at him, unsteady on his feet, the drunk practically shouts his confused frustration, “What the hell is your problem man?”

Eddie moves you behind him, shielding you from whatever comes next, angrily barking into the stranger’s face, “You can’t go grabbing chicks, dude.  Especially not my chick.”

Using his bottled beer, the man pointed at you, “That’s your girl?  That fat bi-”  That’s all the goon manages to get out before Eddie punches the handsy stranger hard and fast, his nose erupting in a spray of blood.

From that night on, the outward signs of your devotion to each other become more important than ever.  You were Eddie’s girl and he was your guy.  Everyone else had to get their own or get fucked, a beating he personally loved delivering, if it meant keeping you safe and by his side.

The next time he plays you’re draped in his denim cut, the one that every single soul inside the club knows belongs to him.  After that, you show up in a Corroded Coffin t-shirt, the words “I’m With the Band” stenciled on the back, just in case anyone forgets what brings you back to The Hideout week after week.  But it’s not enough, not for Eddie.

Each day you wore bracelets.  Black and neon green rubber circles that fill the gap between your elbow and your wrist, hot pink and orange, just for fun, and when he feels the need to remind the world who holds onto your heart, Eddie’s silver handcuffs.  Both locked on your right side so you could move around freely and shake hands with whoever, but jingling all night long was the narrow chain between the pair, reinforcing the idea that you were his and his alone, while also making you look hard as fuck.

Heads turn your way, inevitably, at the sight of you together.  Him, tall and lean, you short with sweeping curves.  The adoration on your face matched by the desire in Eddie’s.  And even though you were rounder in figure and fuller in the hips than most of the girls who flocked to The Hideout, working hard in their shiny spandex and over teased bangs, Eddie only had eyes for you.

Now, it was no longer possible to feel his nimble fingers with their calloused pads brushing over your exposed shoulder and not get goosebumps, no matter how crowded the bar was that night.    You couldn’t imagine walking into a room without his hand in your back pocket, pressing against your ample bottom with every swinging step.  How would you ever enjoy a concert or a conversation when his long arm wasn’t draped along your shoulder, or, even better, wrapped around you so his leather jacket creaked against your cheek, the heat of his hand resting possessively on the skin above your full breasts?

You can’t.  It’s not even a remote possibility, not anymore.  Eddie “The Freak” Munson had made you one too and there was no going back.

When he somehow manages to keep you out of his grasp, a truly difficult task for the boy, you still feel the presence of phantom threads connecting you every time you even glance at a mirror.  Your graceful neck could be loaded with necklaces, velvet chokers and chains but no one noticed your jewelry.  All they could see were the lavender splotches where Eddie had sucked and nipped and licked your tender flesh into bruises old and new.  Every one a badge of honor you happily displayed because removable tokens of Eddie’s devotion were no longer enough for either one of you.

You, in your trashy fishnet tights, a cut off pair of denim shorts barely covering the crease where your ass became the back of your thighs.  You, in an ancient Led Zeppelin t-shirt that was so holey you had to wear a tank top underneath it or risk being charged with indecent exposure.  You, with the chopped hair and black eye-liner, a busted out pair of boots and your pleased, crimson smile just for him.

He was so fucking yours.  

Much later, in the divine dark of early morning, his trailer filled with smoke and shadow, Eddie’s lighter flicks to life.  The golden rays highlight his long lashed eyes, solely focused on setting the twisted tip of his joint alight, ready to inhale the fragrant fog.  Drawing deeply, puffing his chest, you watch Eddie lean towards you, his lips puckered and ready.

Fisting your hand into his beloved Hellfire Club shirt, you pull him near enough to kiss, but that wasn’t on the agenda.  Your lips part sweetly, eyes fluttering closed as Eddie exhales the scented smoke from his lungs into your own.  Billowing gently through his lips, the vapor curls around you both in milky white swirls as you gratefully inhale his breathy discharge.

It wouldn’t make sense to anyone else, but it tastes different when it comes from him; sweeter somehow and you flatten your palms along the plains of his chest, overeager for his kiss.  He knows it too.  Recognizing the wanting in your face, moving close enough that your noses bump together, Eddie turns his head at the last moment which makes you huffy.  Inhaling another drag, causing the joint’s cherry to flame brighter, his free hand tangles in the tendrils at your neck, holding you steady as he blows another shotgun directly between your open lips.

Needy now, you drift closer, ready to bridge the millimeters of distance between your mouth and Eddie’s only to be thwarted by his holding grip, “So pretty, baby.  One more, alright?”

And he’s asking you, but there’s no need for that because Eddie knows that you’re going to let him do whatever he wants.  Licking over your bottom lip you stare hungrily at the burning paper, jealous that it gets to touch his full mouth when you haven’t yet.  You try to be patient but Eddie’s just taking so long on the drag.  Frenzied, you can’t help but whine, “Honey!  Please!”

He doesn’t answer in words.  Heavily ringed fingers grab at your chin, the cool metal digging into your overheated skin as he forces your lips into a pretty pout.  Eddie pauses, drawing out the long seconds while the smoke expands inside his chest, pinning you under his steely gaze.  When he’s satisfied that you’re gonna be good, be patient, and his body is almost screaming for fresh air, only then does he release another lungful of sacred smoke into your waiting mouth.

Before you can enjoy what he gives you, Eddie’s licking into you with his tongue.  His hands move to cradle your face, a palm pressing to each cheek, as your desperate lips reach out for him.  Then he’s deepening the kiss you’re sharing in the streaking silver smog, melding you together.  His tongue, your tongue, tangling together.  The push and pull of your shared passion flavored with sugary sighs and the musky scent of sativa, it’s wrecking you.

When you feel Eddie shifting beside you, kneeling up to shuck his jacket before tossing it somewhere, you pivot on the couch.  No longer sitting side by side, now your legs stretch out in front of you, wedged between Eddie’s black denim covered thighs.  There’s a lean, wolfish look on his face that makes you flush because you understand instinctively that he’s the predator.

That makes you prey.

Dancing, his fingers draw over your legs, glazing across the criss-crossed knots of your tights, the sensation tickling and tantalizing.  It’s enough to make you huff out a sound that’s half laugh, half moan and he’s enchanted.  You buck beneath Eddie, earning a cracked groan as he falls forward to caging you beneath him, his hair a curtain of dark curls.  As he nuzzles into your neck, sucking a fresh mark onto your sensitive skin, he can’t help but say, “You make such pretty noises, baby.”

Rubbing your feet together, Eddie’s attention turning you on, you purr pleasantly, “It tickled!”

“This?”  And he smooths an experimental hand over your plush thighs, pressing the black strings of your fishnets into your flesh, watching your reaction with his dilated eyes locked onto your own.  He’s toying with your cutoff’s fringe, widening his palms under the hem of your short shorts but over the stretched diamond pattern of your tights.  With each pass his hands reach lower; the little touched spaces behind your knees, the inner curve of your calves, the shape of your ankles.  And every time he returns to the swell of your hips, his thumbs circling closer and closer to your still covered cleft but stopping short of the connection you want most.

It’s torture.  Delicious, exquisite torture which has you biting your bottom lip as you roll against the weight of him.  Gasping sharply, your head tips over the couch’s arm as you nod mindlessly, “Uh huh…”

He meets your body halfway, grinding into you aggressively, shamelessly.  It’s unbelievable, really.  The way your thick, soft body welcomes his touch.  How you bend your knees reflexively, letting Eddie rock into the warm wet at the center of your legs, his grip squeezing the tender flesh of your ass.  Your panting, desperate sounds, so low and throaty, egging him on.

“Gotta get rid of these, well, you called ‘em shorts, baby, but-” popping the brass button open, Eddie’s hands flare open over your waist, “-damn...  They don’t cover much.”

You find his forearms, pretty painted nails digging in deep as your fingers flex, “Wanted to show off for you, babe.  Wanted you to be- Oh, ah!”  Gasping, you're interrupted by the rough yanking Eddie’s employing to get you out of your cut-offs as quickly as possible.

Lifting his head with a triumphant smirk, Eddie licks over his bottom lip while he fiddles with the belt loops of your bottoms, lust darkening his eyes, “Wanted me to be what, sweetheart?”

Shifting your shoulders, you risk a wide-eyed stare his way before declaring clearly, “Wanted you to be proud to show me off.”

“Sugar-” his voice dropped an octave, gravely and rumbling, “-you’re the prettiest damn thing I’ve ever seen.  I’m more than proud, baby.  I’m fucking honored to be your man.  I mean, damn, just look at you, huh?”

If only you could see what Eddie did;  heat on your cheeks in uneven patches glowing in the dusky dim, legs spread so wide now that one of your feet was on the floor, the other caught under the couch’s back cushion.  Weed soaked, your eyes softly shut, ready to fly open at the faintest touch from his working class hands.  Your perfect, plump mouth parted to sigh, to sing, to bite into your bottom lip when you worried about being too loud.

Shit, even that ratty old t-shirt was sexy as fuck, riding high enough that he could see how hard your nipples had become, showing off the impressions where his fingertips sunk into the velvet skin of your sensitive breasts.  Eddie loved every inch of it.  Every inch of you.

Suddenly shy, you move, trying to tug down the hem of your shirt but Eddie bats your hands away, “Uh uh.  Need to see you, beautiful.  Want to see more, in fact.”

Before you can stop him, Eddie’s wicked hands course over your thighs again, ready to resume undressing you.  Lifting your hips high, high, higher, you hear the wind leave his lungs.  Pinching into your quads, his rings gouge at you, causing a squeak, “Eddie?  Baby?  What’s… is something wrong?”

“You’re not wearing anything under here.  No, uh, panties?”

His voice is low, flat.  No flourishes, no teasing and it’s so unlike him that you reach out for reassurance, “Oh!  That-” your hands trace over his braced arms, giggling a little in relief, “-they felt weird so, I just didn’t-”

“Didn’t wear any fucking panties.”  Now his voice is rasping and raw because Eddie is spiraling at the vision he sees.  The thick, black seam of your tights cuts right over the centerline of your slit, daring him to trace its path.  Your pussy calls out to him from the woven prison you’ve been wearing all night, the strings closest to you are a damp barrier to the very place Eddie wants to devour.

For a long second you think you’ve fucked up.  Eddie’s frozen in place, unmoving until you nudge him with a knee, “Babe?  You ok?”

“Can’t believe you, honey.  Leaving my pretty kitty uncovered so anyone could see her… touch her?”

There’s a jealous tint to his tone making you clench with want even though you feel like you need to defend yourself, “Don’t want anyone else to- to touch me.  Just you, baby.  Only you.”

Those are the right words because Eddie recommits himself to getting you off.  Without answering, he drops his head to your tummy, kissing a hard line from your belly button downward.  The softness of his hair brushing over the recently abused skin makes you shiver as your hands tangle in his hair and Eddie groans at the contact.

You?  You’re lost in the sensation of his lips.  Every scorching, open mouth smooch can be felt through the diamond windows of your fishnet tights, intensifying the high, as Eddie’s tongue presses against your clit, the conflicting textures creating heavenly friction.

Hissing, you yank hard on his curly mop, desperation making your legs shake.  Eddie growls into your lower lips, anxious to suck on your straining pearl properly, racy hosiery be damned!  You register his frustration.  It makes him fierce, feral, as he tries again to lap at you through the restrictive garment.  Like putty in his hands, your thighs rudely part at his coaxing, stretching the black elastic near to breaking, but still denying Eddie what he wants most: you.

“Oh, fuck this!”  With that declaration, right over your weeping hole, Eddie presses two fingers into you taking your filmy tights with him.  He feels a thread let go, then another, and soon a sizable hole is spreading with every forward motion of his twisting, teasing fingers.  Tearing easily, the rip widens, unable to sustain the repeated invasion.

Before you can acclimate to the intrusion, he withdraws, eyes wild and wide.  His strong fingers jerk hard, the seam of your tights giving way with a satisfying snap.  Eddie’s mouth, complete with a satisfied smirk, lowers to your core where he sweeps his tongue in a flat line between your folds, finally able to access your sweetcandy center.

Shaking your hips, you move in time with his licks, the animal in you rising to the surface, “Fuck, Eddie!  Yes!  Shit!”

Those fingers, so used to sliding down frets, slip into you unhindered.  Using the thumb of the same hand to rub your overstimulated clit, Eddie’s free palm coasts over your hip and the wide waistband of your destroyed tights, snapping the stretchy fabric harshly.  Arching into the surprising pop of pain, he catches the back of your head in his hand, kissing you hard with clicking teeth and clashing tongues.

Frantic, you tug at his shirttail, the need to feel his bones on your bones overwhelming.  “Need to feel you baby!”

But Eddie shakes his head, he’s not ready to let you go, not yet.  “Cum on my fingers first,”  Curving his digits deliberately, your walls constrict when he tickles against that soft, spongy place only he can seem to reach.  Then he does it again, seeing your whole body stutter as the contact short circuits your nervous system.

Still on his knees between your own, Eddie’s holding you close enough to rest his forehead to yours, a sweet, sweaty smile on his face, “Please baby.  I wanna see you come apart for me.  Just for me, yea?”

It’s the encouragement you need, his words flipping a switch inside you.  Everything in your body contracts: your abdominals, the muscles in your legs, the bones in your toes, the tendons in your neck.  Eddie can feel it happening from within you and continues to press his advantage, no longer retreating his hard working hand.  Instead he plunders your depths, further and faster than he’s ever done before.

“Need, uh-” licking over your lips, the begging starts in small syllables, “-you.  Need you, Eddie.”

He doesn’t have a chance to respond before you’re pulling him to you in another constrained kiss, tight, and tense, because that’s precisely what you’re experiencing at his hand.  Sucking his bottom lip between your teeth, you bite into the pillowy softness as Eddie firmly grinds his thumb against your clit, his nails scratching along your carnal tunnel.  Shattering, the world around you unravels in cosmic waves as your ecstasy expands beyond the narrow barriers of your body.

Eddie takes control of the lip lock, licking into the cavern of your mouth, the metallic taste of his blood mixing the smokey flavor that is your man.  He keeps his hand on the job until your vibrations slow, then, just as quickly as he started, Eddie smoothly extracts his pleasure giving fingers.  Through sleep heavy eyes you watch as he laps your juices from those same fingers, taking the extra time to suck his thumb clean before looking down at you with a proudly devilish grin.

You can’t help but stare because now Eddie reaches behind his head, removing his shirt in one motion, the tattoos that trail over his torso like a map to pleasure.  Raven wing hairs travel in a line down to the cut of his waist where his belt is undone, the rivet of his jeans open enough for you to see the checkerboard pattern of his boxers.  And a fresh desire for the man who loves you rolls over you.

Itchy now, your needy palms fan over his chest, wrapping under his arms until you’re cradling against him, your head tucked into his chest.  You can hear his heartbeat best like this and in your post-orgasmic state there’s something grounding in the steady rhythm of Eddie’s pulse that brings you back to the here and now.  He talks but you’re so close you only hear muffled mumbles so you tip your head up, “Hmm?”

“I said, I’m not done with you yet.”

Blinking, your drug fogged brain catching on, “Oh, you’re not?”

Shaking his head no, Eddie forces your head back far enough to expose your neck, tongue tracing along the tendon there before nipping at your earlobe, “Not even close, princess.  Get on your knees, baby.  Let me see that beautiful ass of yours.”

Goosebumps spread over you at the sweetly whispered command he issues.  Agreeing with a compliant nod, you go to stand up but Eddie pushes you toward the deep pile carpet on the floor, and you slip off the couch, boneless and floppy.  “Here-” tossing one of the loose cushions to you, Eddie watches you fold your hands under your cheek as if you were going to take a nap, all innocent and peaceful- but you’re far from innocent, aren’t you?

God, he fucking loves you.  He love fucking you, too.

Quickly shedding the rest of his clothes, his dick unbelievably hard because he is, without a doubt, the luckiest sonofabitch in Hawkins for sure, maybe Indiana, possibly the world.  And it’s because of you.

Already spaced out from the weed and first round of pleasure, your ass is framed perfectly by the haphazard tear in your tights, the thin netting still covering everywhere but the places only Eddie gets to touch you.  Lifted up like this, on your knees, he can see your puffy pussy lips, still glistening from your release but furiously flexing from a want to be filled.

He could hardly believe that you were his.  “Fuck, honey.  I wanna be gentle, I really do-” positioning himself behind you, the warmth of Eddie’s body wraps around you as one of his hands glides over your haunches, “-but you look so fucking good right now.”

Over your shoulder you catch his eye, a sly smile on your face, “Hammer me, Eddie.  Make me feel it.  I… I want you to.  I need you to.”

Your words fly straight to Eddie’s cock.  Already swollen and stiff, it hardens further in his hand, the rouge tinted head droolling pre-cum.  Urgency floods through him the moment you quietly beg him to ravage you, sexily swaying your hips in a silent call to action.  It’s too much to process, stalling Eddie’s brainwaves, causing him to choke out, “Wha?  What did you say?”

Widening your legs, your fingers finding the uneven edge of your ruined tights, rubbing over your still wet lips, “You heard me, Munson.  Don’t make me ask you again.”

Lewd.  Filthy.  Hot as fuck, you had Eddie swallowing hard, his throbbing rod pulsing in his fist.  Wanting to thrust into with everything he had, Eddie forces himself to breath, one hand finding its way to the round fullness of your bottom, the other gripping his steely length tight.  “Get yourself ready for me, baby.  Use your fingers, yea, just like that.  Fuck.  You’re a goddamned porn star, aren’t ya?”

Wordlessly you begin stroking between your legs, knowing that Eddie was watching made you more excited, the debauchery of it making it better.  There was a swish of cool air and then a sharp crack as Eddie brought his open palm down on your upturned ass cheek, the sting making you reel, surprise causing you to call out, “Shit, Eddie!”

His hand on the flat of your back held you still, soothing you now, “Shh, shh… you’re doing so good, so good for me, darlin’.  Keep going, ya?”

Settling again, continuing to pleasure yourself as he asked, the fingers of your free hand scrunch into the pillow under you, holding on for dear life.  Another smack, more heat than hurt, breaks over you, increasing the pleasurable pressure building in your belly.  Circling your clit, wishing it was Eddie’s finger or tongue, you throw your head back, pushing your hips into Eddie, pleading now, “Please, babe, please?”

Grinding out through gritted teeth, Eddie slaps your ass once more, “Already begging me, huh?  Don’t you dare finish.  I wanna feel you, pretty girl.  You hear me?”  Nodding in a pre-orgasmic haze, squeaking out the word yes over and over, it was enough for Eddie who was winding up tight enough to snap.  Shuddering, you feel the swollen tip of his cock slide between your slippery lips and flex your back, eager for more friction, only to be denied.  

Eddie, swatting your hands away from your core, rests his tip at your entrance, taking a minute to enjoy the scenery.  Notching into you so achingly slow, the stretch always taking you by surprise, you fisted the cushion beneath you as Eddie withdrew with a sultry snicker, “Jesus, you’re soaking, baby.  Feel so good.”

“No, you- you feel good, Eddie.  So big.  Too big.”

His pulling back makes you whine, but before you can say anything, he knocks the wind out of you by surging forward, burying himself balls deep in your velvet vice.  Shouting out his name, your chest flattens into the carpet as you buck your hips higher, meeting Eddie’s rapid thrusts.

For the first time all night, he goes quiet, concentrating on the loving way you grind your cushioned bottom into his pelvis, skin slapping deadened by the presence of your wrecked lingerie.  Eddie watches as your pink petals swallow him everytime he humps into you, the image etching itself in his mind.  He picks up speed, using your waistband to wrench you back onto his impaling member, over and over and over again.

It’s rough, rougher than ever before, but that’s why you like it so much.  Already your clingy cunt is clenching, trying and failing to keep Eddie locked inside of your wet heat, your bodies fusing together.  You told Eddie to use you; hammer into you in search of his own pleasure, and he does not disappoint.

He barely gives you a chance to bounce along his length before he fortifies his hold on you, his ringed hand on the ample flesh of your waist, the other knotting into your hair.  Rutting into you like a beast, the arch of your spine allows Eddie to access your deepest recesses as you chew on your bottom lip to keep from screaming his name into the night.  Your skin is on fire as the rug burns scars into your knees with every forward drive from the menace you’ve given yourself over to.

The rhythm spikes again.  Faster now, the repetitive smack, smack, smack of your soaked skin accepting his brutal use makes your body bloom.  Sinking into your hips, the muscles of your legs soften, changing the angle for Eddie and you hear an appreciative grunt as he claims another inch of you for himself.

A bubble of laughter rises through you and Eddie hears it, mocking, “Something funny, sweetheart?”

“No!  No!  Just-” he yanks back on your hair and your pussy pulses around him reflexively, “-you’re doing it, Eddie.”

“Giving this pretty pussy what it needs?  Fuck yea, I am.  Gonna be sore tomorrow, doll.  Can’t help it.”

Grinding back against him, your voice rises in pitch, the need to cum consuming you, “Good!  Fuck, Eddie!  Wanna feel it!  Don’t stop!  Don’t stop-'' But you don’t get to finish your sentence because the dam within you cracks open, the watery release too much, and it floods over Eddie as your world fuzzes over in blinding white lightning and static sound.

Your messy ending finishes Eddie, who buries himself to the hilt, holding you near enough to bruise as his release roars out of him, a satisfying sigh of your name on his tongue.  His fingers flex, their grip on you going slack, as Eddie curls over you protectively.  Turning your face to his, a kiss, sweet and soulful passes between you even though the angle is awkward and you are both fucked out entirely.

When he separates himself from you, it borders on painful.  You just fit around him so right, so well, it’s as if your body doesn’t want to let Eddie go.  Pressing his lips to your shoulder, Eddie hums in your ear, “Stay here, beautiful.  I’ll be right back.”

Hazy headed, you agree with sigh, closing your eyes in euphoric exhaustion.  Eddie, always so thoughtful and careful with you, swipes at your exposed skin with a warm washcloth, cleaning you up gently.  When he returns from the bathroom, loose boxers covering his butt, and sees that you haven’t shifted an inch, Eddie drops to his knees, brushing the hair from your face, “You alright baby?”

A satisfied smile fills your face, “Fuck yea, I just uh, my legs are jelly.”

Sitting now, Eddie pulls your head into his lap, combing through your locks, “Sorry about that, sweet girl.”

Searching his face, you titter, “I’m not.  You were incredible.”

You watch the pride blossom in him at your compliment, and stretch your aching arms before sitting up beside him.  Tracing a thumb over his bottom lip, you frown, “Sorry I bit you.”

Hooking his hands around your neck, nose to nose now, Eddie pokes at the broken skin with this tongue, “I’m not.  Now everyone will know I belong to you.”

Resting your head on Eddie’s chest, his arms holding you from behind, you sit in indigo shadows, the harsh street lamps casting moth filled shapes around the trailer.  His hands reach for your ruined tights, ripped and torn and stained, “I can replace these.  You’ll let me buy you new ones, right?”

Your hand cups his stubbly cheek, eyes serious, tone light, “Only if you promise to tear them off me.”

Snorting, Eddie strokes your side under the shirt that you never took off, “Only if you promise that I’m the only guy who gets to tear them off of you.”

And there’s a buried intention in his question, real worry, so you pull back, concern in your expression, “Eddie, honey, I’m yours.  If tonight didn’t prove that, then I don’t know what will-”

He looks away from you, focusing on the lightening sky outside his window, “There are guys who, ya know, they want you.  I see them.  See how they look at you when you aren’t paying attention and I guess-” swallowing thickly, Eddie catches your gaze, “-Shit… I guess I'm worried that you’ll figure it out.”

Panicking, you kneel up next to him, a comforting hand resting against his cheek, “Figure what out, baby?”

Releasing the breath he had been holding on to, Eddie’s brown eyes scan your own, his hand rubbing the back of his neck, “That uh… that you’re too, ya know, good for me.”

Still sore and stinging, you manage to straddle Eddie’s lap, the cotton of his boxers a welcome comfort against your overworked sex.  Raking your fingers through his hair, tugging at the nape of his neck, you force him to look you dead in the eye.  Speaking firmly but calmly, you were ready to make him hear you, “Edward Munson, that is enough of that kinda talk.  I wanna be your girl, and only your girl.

“Who else would punch a dude for me?  Or show me everyday that he loves me?”  Your voice wobbles, breaking at the declaration you’re making, “I don’t want anyone else.  Only you, babe.  Always.”

Cutting you off, Eddie’s mouth crashes into yours, stealing your breath.  A broad palm on your tush and one against your spine ensure that you can’t pull away from the love that he’s trying to share.  And you don’t fight it.  Why would you?  All you wanted was Eddie Munson and all he wanted was you.

Resting his chin on the crown of your head, dawn’s golden glow strengthening beyond the walls of his trailer, he whispers, “I am so fucking yours, ya know that?”

Curling into his warmth, nuzzling further into his lap, you sigh, filled with contentment, “Yea, I know, Eddie.  And you’re stuck with me.”

Grinning as you toy with the guitar pick around his neck, Eddie gives you a tiny peck at the very center of your forehead, “I am totally ok with that, sweetheart.  You’ll be mine and I’ll be yours.”

“Hell yea, baby.  All yours.”

                                              ---- Fin ----

Taglist:

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[ethereal-engene]

One Shot | Mingyu

pairing: Mingyu x fem!reader // genre: angst and non-idol!AU

warnings: mentions of cheating from the reader, implied sex, and depictions of a toxic mindset + relationship // word count: ~2k

summary: Mingyu thinks he has a chance at being your boyfriend despite your current relationship with him.

note: fully inspired by prettymuch’s song one shot. I don’t think this needs to be said but just incase: I don’t condone cheating and this is a FICTIONAL story. Nothing represents the idol here.

Mingyu has no clue when his feelings for you started to come about. Perhaps it wasn’t one exact moment but rather the accumulation of small moments between the two of you.

Even though you were someone’s else’s lover, you both couldn’t get enough of each other. He knew it was wrong but your love was intoxicating. Leaving him bereaved every time you left in the middle of the night to return to where you were supposed to be, in another man’s arm.

Not only did you take yourself when you leave but you unknowingly took bits of his heart & whatever was left of his dignity with you. Maybe he’s a little naive to hope you do the same for him. Mingyu really doesn’t know why he stays.

Hearing so often from his friends that he’s better than this and deserves a better girl who would truly cherish him. He knows that they’re right but he can’t just let go of the possibility that one day, he’ll confess to you & you end up finally breaking up with your current boyfriend to be his.

Everything about you and him makes so much sense. Getting along both inside and outside of the bedroom. And the chemistry you guys have is through the roof. Despite this immoral relationship, you two act like a real couple. Going out on dates and buying each other things. As well as being there for each other whenever things are tough and more.

As a result, Mingyu desperately wants you to be officially his. Anyone could see that from miles away.

From the starstruck eyes he gives whenever he looks at you. From the way his hands always find yours to hold firmly at any given moment. From the way his smiles reach his cheeks as you laugh at his jokes. From the way he holds you closely whenever you two are out and about in case someone might try to do something. From the way, you fit so perfectly in his body. From the way, you both are comfortable being naked with your thoughts and feel comfortable in your own skin together.

This glimpse of what reality could be and feels like with you plagues his mind every time you come over. He’s got a bad case of being love sick. So far, no cure has worked on him. Some people might call him crazy but he thinks that he’s just fighting for love. You know it’s bad when he’s still with you even after all that has happened.

Once you were on the phone with some friends while at his place, and he couldn’t help but overhear some parts of it. A friend asking about what you and him were, and anticipating your answer to be a hopeful one. It gets quickly squashed as you reply with “We’re nothing but friendly fuck buddies that are also friends. I think you forgot that I am still in a relationship with my boyfriend.”

He steps away from the bedroom with a frown painted upon his face. This should have been the time to cut off whatever was going on between you two but still he held onto that silly dream of being together. It’s just he can’t imagine being in a relationship with anyone except you. Plus he secretly thinks that he could easily treat you better than your current boyfriend. Actually, it was a fact. Just as he questioned why you stayed with your boyfriend, others questioned why Mingyu was still with you.

Instead of the reality of your words setting in, he decides to forget that it happened. Continuing like nothing has changed. However that doesn’t stay true for that long when the second instance plays in front of him.

One night as y’all were practicing aftercare and talking about random things. He half-heartedly asks you “Are we really nothing?”. Mingyu’s puppy eyes and frown makes an appearance when he looks at you.

You’re taken aback by his question and piece together that he more than likely heard the conversation between you and your friends. You can’t break his little heart like that so you lie. “Of course not, Gyu. We’re something but we don’t gotta put a label on it right? I love the way things are right now and I love you. You got me and I got you! I love you, Mingyu. So much that you don’t even know.”

Holding his cheeks in your hand as you kiss his frown away. Slowly but surely, it turns into the smile that everyone loves. A selfish thought takes over you and wants this precious smile of his to never leave his face. It lights up rooms and makes people happy.

It’s unfortunate that this moment gets cut short when you get a phone call from your boyfriend. Swiftly picking up the call, you place a finger over his lips before getting off his bed to dress yourself. Not even paying attention, you end up wearing his shirt and leaving so quickly to not say goodbye to him.

As he hears the door shut close, his hands find their way combing through his hair. Something about frustration and the tiniest bit of hope. You had mentioned that you two were something instead of nothing! That must count for something right? But he’s also frustrated at how quick you left and wishes you would break up with your boyfriend.

- YOUR POV -

Knocking on your boyfriend’s door, he greets you and thanks you for coming over. You don’t miss the way he glares at the shirt you’re wearing. A shirt he’s never seen before and is clearly not one of his.

Noticing it, you brush it off by telling him it’s Mingyu’s shirt, but he doesn’t need to worry because he’s just a friend. “Mingyu is nothing more or less than a friend, baby. Really don’t worry, there’s nothing going on between us.” Stating firmly and walking to your shared bedroom.

He doesn’t say much and before you know it, the shirt is no longer on you anymore. The night is spent making love to each other. The last time actually unbeknownst to you.

Your boyfriend knew you were lying as he was prepping you and kissing up on you, the shirt was tainted with another man’s cologne that he immediately recognized as Mingyu’s. It wasn’t hard to tell though, he’s actually met Mingyu a few times and his cologne is distinct. It’s a shame that this will be your last night together because you were truly a wonderful lover to have but not enough as you cheated on him.

As you awaken from your sleep, you’re greeted with an empty spot next to you on the bed. Looking at the nightstand for your phone, you spot a piece of paper and see what it says.

‘Hey y/n, please leave my apartment when you wake up and don’t ever come back. Cheaters aren’t welcome at my place. I should have known that you were a cheater with the way you would come in late at odd hours. Not to mention the shirt you were wearing last night, 100% Mingyu’s without a doubt. I hope you two have a splendid time together & don’t bother contacting me again. I already moved all of your stuff back so you don’t have an excuse to come back.

I would say thank you for the past few years but fuck you for ruining it.

Goodbye y/n.’

You leave the apartment and Mingyu’s shirt behind. With no thought in mind, your feet take you to the one place where you know you’ll feel welcome, Mingyu’s place.

He opens the door to see your sad face and brings you into a hug. His hugs feel like home and somehow open the floor gates. Your tears soak his shirt and he rubs your back continuously. Some part of you didn’t even realize that your ex boyfriend meant that much to you. The other part of you is glad you’re no longer in a relationship.

There is no known reason as to why the cheating happened. The first time it just happened and was something that kept recurring. Mingyu’s presence in your life to your dismay was at your disposal. Thinking about it now, you were quite selfish to be cheating on your ex boyfriend and using Mingyu.

Even now crying in his arms made you realize it. It’s not that you didn’t know cheating was wrong but it just never fully settled until you got caught. As you spit out hateful words about yourself, Mingyu is quick to shut you up with kisses and tell you that it’s not true. You wonder why he thinks that you’re not a bad person for cheating.

Anyone with a right and clear mind would say otherwise. Which is again proven to not be Mingyu as he abruptly asks you out and to be his since you’re no longer with your ex boyfriend. His voice pleads as he looks at you waiting for an answer.

“Please just give me one shot, baby. It only takes a second to believe in us and another to believe in love. Don’t you believe in us?”

Breaking out of his arms, you reject him and tell him that he truly deserves better than what you can offer. Only for him to respond with it doesn’t matter because what he really wants is you & no one else. All he needs is one shot to show you just how much better he can treat you and be that person for you. You apologize profusely and repeatedly tell him that you cannot be the person for him, and it’d just be more wrong than our current relationship.

He doesn’t even have a chance to refute your comments and before he knows it, you’ve left his apartment. Mingyu sits in his living room waiting for you to come back. Looking like a sad dog waiting for their owner to come back home. As the tick tock sounds resonate in the air, hearing it as a reminder of how much time has already passed by. So he takes out the battery and waits some more.

It doesn’t seem to phase him how long it’s been until he gets an unexpected call. A call from your ex boyfriend. For some odd reason, he decides to answer it. Followed by a string of cuss words and more, there’s one thing that he tells Mingyu that takes the final straw. “You know, she told me that you guys were nothing and I didn’t need to be worried. She said that all the while she’s wearing your shirt that reeks of your cologne. You two deserve each other.”

Mingyu hangs up after that and doesn’t know what to make with this newfound information. He sits on his couch and returns to staring at the door again. Then he goes back to staring at his phone to see the time. It’s 6:29 PM. Has it really almost been 7 hours since you left? At the back of his head, he knows that you’re really not coming back. Your words of ‘deserve better’ can’t help but ring like crazy in his head.

Does he really deserve better when he knowingly slept with you when you were in a relationship? Does he really deserve better when he enjoyed every single second of it? Does he really deserve better when he was waiting for the moment you were out of your relationship so he could shoot his shot?

The truth is he probably doesn’t. Well at least not now. Maybe in the future when he’s learned how wrong this was. As well as learning to heal and forgive himself. But for now, he’ll mourn the loss of the relationship that could have been despite the circumstances in which your relationship brought you two together.

uhm, all I have to say is that I spun the wheel and it landed on Mingyu. I hope you liked this and if you did, please reblog it with your thoughts in the tag or leave a note or even send me an ask/message!

Thank you for reading this and take care!

signing off,

- ash