#he's like just saying whatever to dodge having to go out TWICE in a day SKDHGBSKDHBG

[nexysworld]

summary: Brat tamed by your step dad. pairing: Step Dad Toji x Fem!Reader tags: NSFW, Smut, Stepcest, Daddy Kink, Age Gap, Pussy Slapping, Spanking, Mean!Toji, Degradation Kink, Unprotected Sex, Manhandling, Dub-con, fem receiving oral, Reader is 18+, MDNI wc: 2.4k

Read on AO3 || Ask Box || Masterlists a/n: this is my first time writing for JJK and Toji, but god am I down BAD for this man. I wanna practice and write more because....yeah. 😏 Title based on the song. Also special thanks to @kaitkatme for beta-reading this for me.

“Fuck off Megumi, you’re always breathing down my neck!” You yelled, chucking the pillow across the room at your step brother. “Seriously, get out!”

“I’m only doing what I’m supposed to as your big brother!” He yelled back, easily dodging the weaponized cushion. “Dudes like that are only looking for one thing. They’re dangerous.” “Really? You sure? I would say you’d know, but I don’t think you’re getting any either.” You replied, rolling your eyes. 

“Whatever, give me the phone.” His hand was stuck out expectantly.  “No way! I’m an adult, I can go out with whoever I want.” 

The two of you tussle back and forth around the room, grappling over the device in your hand. Luckily for you, his back was to your bedroom door, giving you the chance with one good shove to send him staggering backwards into the hallway, sticking your tongue out at him for good measure. The door slammed shut with a loud thud, and you clicked the lock to make sure he couldn’t get back in so easily. 

You flopped back down onto the plush bed, intending to return to what you were doing when noise caught your attention. Loud stomping, followed by some muffled arguing – you recognized one of the voices as your step dad, he must’ve been woken up by the argument. 

As the voices got closer you could make out the tail end of the conversation.  “Why don’t you just buckle up and be a father for once.” “Will you stop naggin’ me, she ain’t even my kid.” “She calls you dad.” “So do you, fuckin’ brat. And you don’t listen to me either.”  “You really want her skulking around with one of those mercs? Bet that’ll look real good on you, old man. Your rivals joking about going through rounds with your slutty daughter.” 

“Tch, fine. But only because I’m sick of your fuckin’ nagging kid. We both know she isn’t goin’ to listen t’me.” His footsteps were heavy as they closed in on your room. The front door of the house slammed close downstairs, Megumi having retreated. There was a brief silence outside your door as he pondered what to say before his heavy fist landed on the door a few times. “Open up.”

“Don’t think I will.” You added, not feeling like being lectured again, and especially not by the deadbeat who fucks your mom. Or did fuck your mom, no one really knew where mom was these days. 

There was a huff of frustration as he banged on the door again. “I ain’t askin’ twice.”

“Then don’t.” You lazily went back to scrolling on your phone. 

“You fuckin’ brats are really startin’ to piss me off today.” A loud boom rattled the walls, nearly giving you a heart attack. Your bedroom door had been kicked right off the hinges, the top half of the door tangling by what was left of a single screw, the bottom half launched into the wall across the room. 

You’d seen Toji go at it with Megumi before, tossing all sorts of things at him with his absurd inhuman strength, but you’d never been the target of that anger before. Your mouth opened in shock, ready to say something, but words caught in your throat as he marched towards you.

“First I’m woken up because the two of you can’t keep yer traps shut. Then I get an earful about you running off with some merc kid – thought I raised you better than that.” “You didn’t raise me at all!” Toji had been around as long as you could remember, probably the closest thing you’d ever have to a real dad. Except he only really acted like a father when he was trying to get in your moms pants – or when you made cute bait for a potential bounty he was trying to collect on.  “Shut it.” He said, towering over you. “Screw you!” You spat indignantly.  “I ain’t dealin’ with any more shit today.” It always impressed you how fast he was, for such a large buff guy. Even still, it shocked you how quickly he managed to flip your positions, him sitting on the bed, you bent over his lap. The only noise you could get out was a yelp as his hand collided with your clothed butt cheek, the red hot warmth of pain radiating outwards.  “What happened to that filthy mouth?” He asked mockingly, this time tugging your pajama pants down to expose the plush mounds of your ass. “Come on princess, you wanna talk like a big bad adult, then talk.” He brought his hand down again, this one knocking the wind out of you, making your legs kick behind you tangled in your pajama pants – fat hot tears forming in your waterline. “No? Nothing?” He asked again, as he continued his onslaught, large hand imprinting its shape on you. “That’s what I thought. Shoulda knocked some manners into both you brats forever ago.” 

He shoved you off of him, making you tumble head first onto the floor. Your face was red with anger, cheeks puffed out, righting yourself just enough to look up at him, still tangled in your own pants. He looked down at you amused, scanning your form. He grabbed your face with his hand, squishing your cheeks together, forcing you into a kissy face. “Now that’sa look.” He mused. “Acting like you’re ready to go run around with boys, but can’t even stop snottin’ and cryin’ like a kid after getting spanked by your Daddy.” You wanted to say something back, insult him, tell him to shut up. But you couldn’t, ass sore, mouth still pushed out between his fingers. Instead, you glared him down as best you could.

“What was your plan anyway? Hope he’d take you somewhere fancy, call you pretty names while he licked that little cunt? Or were you hopin’ he’d be mean, put you in your place.” He chuckled, leaning forward so your faces were close together again. “Maybe Megumi was right – ‘m gonna have to listen to stories from half the guild about my slutty little girl, aren’t I?”  “N-no!” You managed to squeak out at the accusation, it fell on deaf ears as he continued rambling his own thoughts. “Only thing I can’t understand is why you’d pick some loser I work with. When ‘m sure there’s plenty of punks crawling around this city, ready to get their dicks wet.” His eyes narrowed, a smug ear to ear grin taking over his features. “Oh, I get it now, you want someone just like your Daddy, don’t you?”  Heat pooled between your legs at his words, cheeks on fire with embarrassment more than anger now. You squeezed your thighs together, hoping he didn’t notice. He let go of your face finally, red finger marks lingering on your skin. Despite having the chance to speak, you were stunned into silence. 

He noticed.

Of course he noticed. 

Toji yanked you up by your arm, roughly pulling you into his lap, pressed against his chest with your head over his shoulder. His large, rough fingers trailed down the semi-circle of your ass cheek to dip lower from behind, gently brushing against your slicked folds.  “Looks like I’m right on the mark.” “N-nuh uh!” You denied, exasperated.

“Dumb little brat, runnin’ around looking for trouble when all you need is your Daddy, right here at home.” He played with you a little, stuffing his index finger into your wet heat, his thumb rubbing against your clit in even circular motions. You whined, squirming your legs at the sensation, feeling your walls clamp around the digit. What remained of your dignity was fleeting, as you felt his cock press against your leg through his pants. “Looks like she’s been cryin’ for attention – no wonder you’ve been such a bitch lately. Shoulda known it woulda been easier to just fuck the ‘tude out of you.” 

He pulled his hand out of you so he could toss you unceremoniously onto the bed, ripping your panties and pajama pants off the rest of the way. By the time he yanked your shirt up, your hands were covering your face in embarrassment.  “Nah, none of that shy shit.” He chided, easily gathering both your wrists in one hand, pinning them above your head. “Look at me, princess.” He used his free hand to force you to meet his gaze again. “You wanted this, remember? So you’re gonna be a good girl and watch while Daddy makes you feel good, understand?” You scrunched up your face in a glare again, still not wanting to give him the satisfaction of absolute obedience. The hand holding your face collided with your cheek in a sharp slap, making your tits bounce a little as you jerked with the motion. “You wanna keep that brat shit up and I’ll just fuck you raw instead, how about that?”  “W-wait no!” You exclaimed.  “S’what I thought.” Your step dad let go of your wrists so he could lift your lower half up, tossing one leg over his shoulder, tongue messily sliding up your slit before lapping at the bead of nerves. Like most things with Toji, he was quick, flicking his tongue side to side before circling it around your clit.  His hands dug into your hips with a bruising grip, you looked up catching the top of his head and eyes between your legs. Eyes squeezing shut in short-lived pleasure. “G-guah!” You made a sound, a mix between a moan and a yelp as you felt a lightly stinging slap to your pussy, eyes shooting back open.  “What did I say?” “T-to watch.” Another slap against your pussy made you squeal. “Then why were your eyes closed, hmm?” “‘M sorry!” Another one, this time angled just right that you managed to feel it against your clit too. “Wh-why?” “You’re sorry, what?”

“I’m sorry, Daddy.” You replied. “Good girl.” Praise from him was rare, and while it was dripping with sarcasm, you couldn’t help the way it made your chest flutter. He resumed his meal between your legs, messily slurping you into his mouth. Your body felt like it was burning up, pleasuring pulsing between your legs each time he applied pressure with his wet muscle to your clit. 

Your back arched in pleasure, legs kicking at his back as you came, hard. “Oh god.” You whined, not able to keep your eyes open this time as waves of pleasure rolled over you, through your stiffened muscles. Luckily, he didn’t seem to care this time, dropping your lower half down so he could wipe your slick from his chin with the back of his hand. 

Your eyes, half lidded, watched as he reached down, pulling himself free of his gray pants. You let out an audible surprised sound as you watched him stroke himself a few times. It was thick from tip to base, uncut with pearly beads of precum that dribbled onto your thigh with each stroke. He ran his thumb over the tip, hissing at the sensation before rubbing it along your bottom lip, letting you taste him. Greedily you sucked the digit into your mouth, grinding your hips up when you tasted the slightly bitter liquid.

“Shit. You’re fuckin’ cute, I’ll give you that.” He said, pulling his hand back to line himself up with your entrance. He pushed into you, grunting as your tight walls clenched around him. “Tight as hell too. Relax.” He groaned, sinking inch by inch into you until the tip of his cock pressed snuggly against your cervix. It was overwhelming how full you felt, like you’d be split in half if he were any bigger. 

Not one for patience he leaned forward, nearly folding you in half, as he slid out to the tip before slamming back in, watching as you writhed beneath him, gripping the sheets. Your pupils were blown, you could feel his breath against your face again with how close he was in this position.  “Look at you givin’ me those lovey dovey eyes. Want a kiss too?” He asked. “Please?” You nodded, letting go of the bedding to wrap your arms around his neck, clinging to him. He obliged the request, pressing his lips to yours – rough and slightly chapped. He gave a few shallow thrusts while tangling your tongues together, pulling away just enough to give him a better angle to fuck into you harder.  “S’too much.” You croaked as he set a steady pace, brutally pumping himself inside of you. “S’too much.” You repeated, eyes scrunching shut, overstimulated between the stretch and speed of his movements. “S’okay, you can take it.” He replied, between movements.  You clung to him tightly, a fresh set of tears brimming at your eyes, toes curling with pleasure. “‘D-daddy.” You sobbed out, clawing at his back. Each time he sunk back into you, he hit a special spot, one so deep you’d never reach it on your own. It made stars sparkle on the back of your eyelids. 

“That’s m’girl, let it all out. Gonna fill this bratty little hole up, make sure she remembers who’s in charge, yeah? Gonna be a good girl from now on?” “Mhmm.” You replied, so close to your second orgasm. “Never be bad…nnng…again….” Your muscles tensed, the pressure exploding again as you cried out, second orgasm exhausting the last of your energy. Your velvety walls clamping down were enough to bring him to completion too, his cock twitching as hot cum spurted out, drooling into your spent hole. 

Eyelids heavy with exhaustion, you barely registered when Toji pulled out, or when he’d laid down next to you tucking you into his side. Your body naturally curled into his warmth, head sinking into the pillow as sleep pulled you under. 

It wasn’t until you heard the telltale sounds of arguing again did you even bother to crack one eye open. Megumi stood in the broken doorway, looking like steam was coming out of his ears. “What?” Toji asked lazily. “You didn’t want her goin’ with that guy, now she’s not. Problem solved.”  “Problem not solved –” He began, before you chucked a pillow at him again.  “Go away, Megumi.” You groaned, burying your face back into your step dad’s chest to resume your nap, too tired to feel any sense of shame or embarrassment in the moment. 

[skrrts]

here in the rain, will you smile again? (oneshot)

✧ gn!reader x jeong yunho ✧ former high school sweethearts ✧ genre: non idol, romance, sad, still in love, comfort ✧ word count: 5,4k ✧ warnings: mention of heartbreak, insecurities, painful breakup in the past, crying

Jeong Yunho was more than your high school sweetheart; he was the love of your life, although you only understood it later, regretting how the two of you let your parents force you to break up to focus on your academic future. You never believed in fate, but that day, when you crossed the street in the pouring rain and saw him: soaked, the flowers of a bouquet falling on the street as he was waiting for somebody who would not come. Maybe it always had meant to be that way because, in the end, you always knew the two of you belonged together.

a/n: so far, my one-shots for him have been very sweet and soft, so i wanted to write something different. mostly a short story of high school sweethearts reuniting because they never really stopped loving each other. (it does have a happy ending)

You looked up to the sky, the heavy grey clouds swallowed even the smallest hint of sunshine. Autumn had come quietly just like every year and before you knew it, Summer was gone, the leaves started to change their color like a sad love song that everyone knew but nobody really wanted to listen to. You were glad now that you had a diligent friend such as Seonghwa who sent you a text not to forget your umbrella this morning because he knew you would have otherwise.

The workday had been short, really. When you arrived at the office in the morning, the internet already had been off, and there really only could be so much done when your programs mainly required to be connected to the digital online network. It had been some time since you last had a free afternoon in the middle of the week but it was a good thing. Every vacation, you just pressured yourself to shove as much as possible in the one or two weeks, to feel like it was worth it but it being so unexpected, maybe it would be fun just to go with whatever came to mind.

While the rain wasn’t the most inviting condition, you were used to it. In the small town you came from, the rain was as much a local as the several hundred people living there. As memories dwelled up, you shoved them aside and stared down at your smartphone instead, thumb brushing over to scroll through a few recommendations. It was sweet, that you found this little forum where people from different parts of the city recommended their favorites a few weeks ago and now finally had an excuse to try it. You hated crowded places and it was welcoming to go somewhere you could count on to be nice.

“This looks cute,” your gaze stopped on a small café which wasn’t too far from here. If you cheated and took the crossing at the cinema, you would be there in no time. The idea of a cup of big green tea was nice right now, maybe together with a slice of cake. You worked extra hard lately, and your latest project was a big success. 

You sighed as you finally stepped ahead and through the rain, trying to dodge little puddles of rainwater. From a career perspective, everything worked out for you. Thanks to some networking during college, you snatched a job with plenty of potential right after graduation, and from there, you steadily worked yourself up, you even only had two sick days in three years at this company. 

Your private life, on the other hand, it was hard to really say it existed and that wasn’t because you lacked free time, actually, if anything your work schedule was steady, your employer one to ensure that they could market themself with an accurate work-life balance. You had friends, went to the gym twice a week and a cutea pet bunny waited for you at home because your landlord wasn’t accepting bigger pets. 

Love just never worked out for you but there was no reason to waste time searching for advice online, going to speed dating, or having your friends set you up with somebody. The reason was always so obvious to you.

You already found the love of your life once, during those cursed high school years you often still yearned back for, not because life had been easier but because he still was in it. Nobody ever could live up to him because he had been the right one for you and you always believed it had been the same for him. 

It wasn’t that you tried but somehow…

You shook your head, trying not to let your throat go dry again because your body always still reacted to it, even after seven years, it was as it could remember the feeling from that day, when you called for his name and his brother finally pulled him away because both of your parents agreed you were a distraction to each other because you wanted to go to the same college, spending every free minute side by side, leading to his parents to forcefully make him change high school for his final year.

“Tch,” you rubbed over your eyes, stopping as stupid tears dwelled on it. Why was it that love like that would not go away? Yes, this too you would not mind, you often silently prayed to your heart to release you but it would not, clinging stupidly to a hope that did not exist.

Fate did not exist.

Somebody stumbled into you, only rushing an apology and a quick bow because it led to you dropping your umbrella. You cursed a little, more so scolding yourself to be lost in those silly old memories on a free afternoon when your gaze caught a figure. 

It was difficult to say what it was, maybe the familiarity you just never shook off, maybe it was because there was so much sadness about it that your own seemed almost like nothing.

He must have been standing in the pouring rain for some time, his clothes soaking, hair clinging to his face and the bouquet of flowers started to slowly crumble to the ground, little leaves falling as it was not made to withstand the angry autumn weather. 

Your heart was beating loudly, a drumming in your ears that even the traffic sound disappeared and all you could do was … walk. Your body was already on its way, it refused for your mind to actually step in, telling it how considering he had been waiting for somebody, quite obviously a person important, this was not the moment to make it worse.

Fate said: fuck you, I exist, now have your punishment for doubting me!

When you took the last stair, your steps finally slowed and you needed a moment to make it to his side. Carefully, yet gently your hand leaned forward and then, the world around you disappeared, all that was left was that small space underneath your umbrella.

“You shouldn’t stand here like that in the rain without an umbrella,” your voice scolded him gently.

Jeong Yunho looked up when your voice reached him. 

Why was it that he was crying when he saw you?

Yunho had known, this date was a foolish idea but what could he do about it? His heart yearned to be loved and to love, to have somebody who would smile at him and allow for his embrace to gently curl around. Lazy morning in bed, holding hands while walking through the city, ignoring the dull landscape autumn brought to it every time and a smile. He wanted to see a smile that would make his heart race.

It wasn’t a fantasy he desired to make true but a memory of something he had held until he lost it because of his wrongdoing. He wasn’t able to be the son his parents wanted and so, he did what they asked of him.

What would you do when you were seventeen, madly in love but also a child who wanted to make his parents proud, who believed so much in them that surely, they knew best?

He doubted it, the moment you screamed his name, asking him not to go and how his brother pulled him back to the car. Yet, both of you had accepted it, you lowered your heads to make your families proud and in return, his heart felt empty ever since. Nobody managed to fill it because nobody was you.

No, he didn't want any love, he wanted yours. He always did because once, it had been his.

Sure, the little flirts at his workplace had been sincere from his side or he told himself so, that woman was quick to return it but maybe as she learned how Yunho had this cliche dream of a simple life with a little family of his own, she changed her mind.

He felt like a fool standing in front of the cinema with flowers, knowing already half an hour later that she would not come, but not even the rain chased him away because maybe he wanted to cling to the hope that he was good enough for somebody, that maybe all it needed was time and they would be here, take him for who he was. Maybe he did not lose all the rights with you, but then would it be fair? Because deep down he just wanted ...

So he waited. For two hours. And then, he was found.

It was as the world cleared up, the rain stopped falling and a face came into view that was as beautiful as yesterday, yet so different that he could not deny he’d have been a little shy.

You held the umbrella right above him, scolding him for standing in the pouring rain.

Yunho’s mouth opened but no words were coming out as he was staring at you, the way how you had grown up so much but there was still all of the sweetness in your features he had fallen so hard for the first time back in junior year of High School, when introduced yourself as his science partner for the year. 

The damn tears wouldn't stop now.

You never were shy to do whatever it needed to make those you loved smile, even if it likely meant hurting yourself in the process.

To make him smile in the middle of the rain in a city, after seven years apart.

“Sorry I’m late, I got I was a little distracted. Are those for me?” 

It took Yunho a moment to realize you were pointing to the flowers in his hands which now were only a sad reflection of their earlier state.

He spent twenty minutes trying to choose a pair and only now, he realized he had gotten your favorite flowers. How did not pay attention to this sooner?

The world seemed to be standing still, that moment when Yunho wondered what he was doing. He waited and waited and he never … went back to you although it was all he wanted but he was undeserving.

So why were you here like that? 

And then you stepped closer and reached out for his cheek, he froze under the touch but your hand was soft and gentle. “Don’t cry, I am sorry I am late.” 

Your voice was a soft whisper and you brushed a tear away from his cheek before taking the flowers carefully from his hands. “Mh, I guess we do not have to worry about giving them water then any time soon. Here, let’s go. Get you somewhere warm and dry.”

Your hand grabbed him and you pulled him along, inside the cinema where a few people threw glances at you, no surprise, thinking how his appearance must have looked to any of them. 

Finally, after minutes must have passed, Yunho found his voice again, although it was far from its usual self: “Y/N?” It was as he needed confirmation that this was truly you and you were here with him.

“Sh, sit! We can worry about the rest later.”

You replied and pulled the wet scarf from his neck and forced him to shrug out of his coat. His cheeks started to turn red as he watched how you took care of him, using your own scarf to ruffle his hair a little more dry, and looked over his figure.

“Why are you so reckless? Standing in the rain like that. You always get a cold so easily,” you finally sat still and looked at him.

Yunho no longer could change it, he had to reach out and cup your face and you held still like you understood he needed to do this to be sure, that you really just had come back to him.

You always came running towards him while all he was doing was waiting. 

“I guess, I was waiting for you,” he whispered and hated how his eyes got wet again, how the tears would not stop from floating. The moment your arms curled around him, he found himself burying his face against your shoulder, feeling your hands soothingly brushing over the back of his neck. 

“It’s okay, I am here now. There, no reason to worry about it. I won’t go anywhere.” 

It didn’t feel like seven years were apart this moment and the last time you held each other in your arms just like that.

Yet, the familiarity finally managed to make him relax and he whispered your name again, wanting to make sure you knew.

It was hard seeing Yunho like that, his beautiful smile absent from his handsome face. Maybe it was a stupid idea for you to act like that, to say the things you did but then, was it? Did you not just admit to yourself how you longed for him, waiting for anything even close to what the two of you once shared to come into your life? 

People were staring, they always did and you did not worry about it, let them watch how somebody had a hard day. If they knew how seven years, almost a decade of separation was between the two of you, would they still?

Yunho finally seemed to relax, his fingers now took your hands and he looked at them like it was the first time, his thumb brushing over the soft skin. There was no rush, now that the two of you sat here together, if anything rush was what you feared, the thought of him leaving pushed far into the back of your mind.

“My apartment is close by,” Yunho finally said. “If you do not mind we skip the movie, I guess you are right and I should get something dry to wear.” 

Even if he tried to hide just how nervous he was to ask you that, it was easy to tell because you knew him better than anyone else and it seemed, the love of your life did not change to much, even with seven years passing by since you last held him in your arms.

It was the tears in his eyes back in the rain that made you do this, your heart could not take it to see him like that, not after longing for the softness of his smile for so long. In that moment, all that mattered had been to stop those tears but you noticed them constantly threatening to return in the edge of his eyes.

“That seems like a good idea, let’s get you there then;” you nodded and carefully picked up the flowers again, waiting for Yunho to slip back into the wet coat but when you reached for the umbrella, he shook his head: “Let me take this one for us. You haven’t gotten very tall still, so this will be easier.”

His little joke helps you to relax and you nod: “Sounds good.”

Back in high school, the two of you often would walk like that to school, when it would not stop raining just back then you were holding hands and talking about silly nonsense. It seemed so far away now with the buzzing streets of the city, and people rushing by to be done with their day. You wondered if Yunho was thinking something similar: Did he think about all the past memories or maybe, even wish to reach out for your hand? 

You would take it without hesitation.

“There we are,” his gentle voice made you look up and you were surprised just how close it had been. There was an odd feeling in your stomach, thinking how often you walked this street to work but you never knew your high school sweetheart was living here.

At least, the guilt shrank a little when you stepped in and it was easy to see that Yunho only must have moved in recently, a dozen boxes still standing around, some halfway opened.

“It’s a little messy. I used to work at a different branch, I only came here like two months ago… I kept finding excuses to take my time with it,” he explained, likely having noticed your gaze. He placed the umbrella next to the door and stripped it out of his streetwear. You were here to ensure that he would be okay but Yunho instantly fell back into his patterns.

He always put everyone else first, especially you and he was quick to offer you some comfortable slippers, some that brought some color to his cheek because they had the shape of cute dogs. 

“Do you want something to drink? Soda, coffee, tea? I also have water, of course!” He looked at you with his big eyes and if you wouldn’t know better, he seemed nervous.

“How about I make us some tea and you change into something dry? I am sure I can find everything I need for that,” you replied, giving him a small and playful shove, ignoring that you no longer were teens but two people in their mid-20s working big jobs. 

There was a small pout on his face, followed by a sigh: “Fineee, I shall be going. See you in a minute.” You couldn’t hold back the chuckle when you watched him almost racing to what seemingly was his bedroom. 

After shrugging out of your shoes and jacket, you put up your scarf to dry before moving over to the kitchen area, putting the poor bouquet into a glass of clear water before slowly opening the cabinets which proved to be a challenge. Damn Yunho was a giant and everyday necessities were stored at a height comfortable for him, so you needed to grab a stool to reach the packages of tea. You were quite sure to hear a wardrobe often a few times too often in the bedroom, and small hisses which made you smile.

When the two of you went on your first date, it was a little like that too. His mother had told you to wait but when still wasn’t there after fifteen minutes, you sneaked upstairs to find him being lost of what to wear best to impress you. You shook your head, reminding yourself that this was different, and poured two cups of tea. 

The place felt like him, small little details were making it comfortable and warm. You sat down on the couch and allowed your gaze to wander until it got stuck on one particular photo on the wall: it was the class picture from the last yearbook before he was forced to change schools. 

“Feels like an eternity, right”? his warm voice filled the air and you met with his smile. His hair was still wet but he had changed into an oversized knitted sweater, showing a little bit of collarbone, and a fresh pair of jeans. Somehow, it made him look younger again.

“Right? I can’t believe we are supposed to have one of those class meetings next year, I really do not feel that old yet,” you casually joked back before leaning over, and offering him the other cup of tea: “There you go, you need to warm up, even with dry clothes.” 

He made a face but listened, sitting down next to you. When you saw he wasn’t even wearing socks, you sighed because there were many memories of small summer colds because Yunho just was so reckless.

“You really are something, Jeong Yunho!” Your arm reached over and you grabbed a blanket, starting to wrap him up until you were satisfied he looked warm and comfortable.

“I’m fine, I promise,” he replied, muttering into the tea. It seemed neither of you really wanted to ask or talk about how exactly he had ended up in the rain like that. Instead, you sat down on the couch next to him, turning around to cross your legs and sipping on your own tea. It was not really hard to see he had so many questions, and so did you.

“My workplace is really nearby, our internet went off today and I suddenly found myself with a free afternoon;” you started, just to offer him anything.

“Maybe it’s time for a cat, you know? I am going towards my thirties now, being a single cat owner is almost mandatory to me but the firm who owns my complex says no. I got a bunny instead, do you want to see a photo?” 

It was so easy just to chat with Yunho, and tell him everything and nothing important. Your mind just settled with a habit you forgot you once had and you leaned over to show him the photo of the white fuzzy loop bunny. “This is Fluffs, yes I named him so because he just has too much fur but he is very patient when it comes to brushing.”

Yunho looked up, giving you a silly smile: “Right, so much to your talent of naming things.” You both laughed together and he was looking at the photos you showed him but all so often, you could feel his gaze on your face.

Did you mention being single on purpose? Yes, because you did not want to waste time on those things when instead, you would selfishly just take anything he’d give to you, ignoring that every day eventually had an end.

“I think, those were all,” you nodded and kept your phone in your hands, hesitant before offering it to him, looking away.

“You know… if you give me your number, I could send you photos of him here and then?”

Now you finally really blushed and you could see how Yunho seemed happy about it. He bowed and took the phone, saving his number before offering it back: “I am waiting patiently for updates.” 

It was when your fingers touched again and for a moment, the two of you held in and looked at each other. The cups both rested on the small couch table at this point and allowed for Yunho to be just a little daring because he was leaning closer, the blanket slipping off his shoulder. And then, his big hands rested on your face, one gently cupping your chin as your eyes met.

Words would be hard right now, there was no way to describe the sorrow of separation, the years of yearning and looking for something only one other person could give you. Regret would be wasted because there was no way to bring back what was lost but maybe, there was something true about the saying how one still had this very moment.

If this had been a movie, viewers would be disappointed now, because there was no kiss, no deep devotion of love. Yunho allowed his forehead to rest against yours, his arms finally curled around your body and he pulled you closer. His face was properly buried against his neck and you could feel the tears against your skin, the way his body tensed, and then, the small soft sobs that escaped him. 

You did not know why Yunho was in so much sorrow. Of course, your heartbreak had been intense too, you did not even go to prom on your graduation because all you could think was how he was not there. And in every important event of your life since, when couples embraced, your coworkers were picked up by their spouse, you thought of him.

Yeah, you really were a pitiful thing because how could you think of him every time but you never managed to get yourself out there looking? Times had been there, once, when you met his brother but he would not tell you anything other than Yunho was doing fine… and you just left it like that. 

“Hey there, look at me,” you finally very slowly moved after letting him cry for some time, now you captured his face: “It’s okay.”

But you could read it off his face: “It’s my fault. If not for me being so careless, we never would have broken up and I’d not … you’d not have to cry so much.”

You were relieved that he was not withdrawing but only looked away: “I was… stupid. I thought, that so many people had done it before so why not us? I meant to wait until we had graduated…But my mom found it and then she just lost it. My parents wouldn’t listen when I told them it was not like that, how it did not mean I planned not going to college, just that we wanted to go together and how I’d not see why not…”

Yunho seemed not to hold it back much longer but only a few things made sense. You could remember that day, in the morning everything had been perfect until you two came back from a small summer trip. His and your parents sitting together, then telling you how the relationship they supported for two years suddenly was no longer acceptable, how it would affect your grades and future, so they would no longer allow for it.

The way you both begged them, saying it wasn’t true and how you would surely go to college, do all of those things but they would not have it, Yunho’s parents already signed him into another high school.

“What do you mean?” you carefully asked, thumb brushing over his cheek.

“I brought a ring, from the money I made at the Summer job. I knew it would be the last chance to save up before college. I wanted to propose to you when we would have graduated, I knew how dumb I was back then but I just knew that you should be the one I want to spend the rest of my life with. When my mother found the ring by accident… she misunderstood it.”

Your mouth formed a small "Oh" because suddenly, it made sense. Yunho’s parents were kind people, but they always would do what they thought was best for their son and finally, you understood. Yunho must have blamed himself for all of this in the past seven years. The thought pained you greatly.

“Oh Yunho, we were barely seventeen and our parents had all of those great hopes and dreams for how the lives of their children should be. This is not your fault,” you pulled him into another hug and his tall form clung to you.

This was not his fault and suddenly, you came to accept nor was it yours. Yes, you could have looked for him but back then, there was nothing you could have done in that very moment, except to be reckless but this would not have been who you fell in love with. You two were in love but always caring for your families, like most kids.

For a moment, you hesitated and it was a foolish question but it blurred out before you knew it: “Do you still have it…?”

He knew exactly what you were talking about and moved back a little, his arm rubbing over his eyes in an attempt to get rid of the tears.

Yunho stood up slowly, moving to one of the boxes before he opened it. You remembered that silly shoe box he pulled out, covered in stickers and polaroids you took together. His fingers were gentle when he revealed a small satin box and walked back over to you.

There was a moment of hesitation before he opened it to show you the ring. It was delicate but simple, just a small silver band with yours and his name craved in and likely room for a date for the day of the proposal. It really suited him but also you because you never liked bulky or lavish details in jewelry. 

“It’s beautiful,” you whispered and he looked at you. Yunho swallowed before he moved to sit a little closer to you again. His beautiful hands were almost a little shaking when he lifted your left hand, waiting for a moment to see if you’d pull back but when you did not, the ring slipped on your finger and even after all those years, it was a perfect fit.

“It was always meant for you, so you should have it,” he whispered. This time, you were the one to shift, moving towards him and placing yourself onto his lap. 

“Yunho, you know I always waited for you, right? Even if I was so foolish this once not to rush towards you… nobody ever could fill that spot you left, it’s like it was always yours, just waiting for you to come back to it.”

The metal of the ring was cool against his skin when he reached out for this hand and placed kisses on it.

“You were the only one who ever really belonged to me.” 

The two of you were searching for something, but it was easy to find in each other’s eyes. “Then this time, let’s make sure it doesn’t stay empty,” you whispered. “I promise if you are late, I will come, running right towards you. Leave it to me, you won’t ever feel alone again.” 

Yunho looked at you before he pulled you into a hug: “You won’t have to run towards me again because now that you are back where you belong, I promise I won’t ever let go again.” You nuzzled your head against his shoulder and sighed in relief.

For a while, he just pulled the blanket over your figures, now feeling an awful lot exhausted. This was not how you imagined this day to turn out to be but it was perfect just like that. There was no reason to speak anymore, the comfort was given just by each other’s company and eventually, the two of you relaxed, laying down on the couch, Yunho holding you tightly in his arms as you closed your eyes and drifted off.

It looked like he fell asleep a little after you. Yunho stirred, his neck a little stiff from the uncomfortable couch. The moment he reached out for you and the spot was empty, his eyes widened and he sat up, mind split between barely awake and fear. 

He still could hear the fall of rain outside, splattered the windows but it had gotten dark, nightfall had come and only left small traces of light from the street lamps. Your phone wasn’t there either. Yunho panicked, he almost fell off the couch.

“Y/N?!”

The way he called out for you was a mix of fear and maybe more desperate than he wanted to admit. The idea of losing you again, he could not bear it. There was no way he could do this again and as his bare feet walked over the cool wooden flooring, rushing towards the front door, a wave of light blinded him, coming from his bedroom.

“Yunho? I’m sorry, my boss called me, she wouldn’t stop. I told her, I have to take a sick day tomorrow 'cause I got into the rain… hey, what’s up?”

He reached out for you right away, hugging you tightly: “Just a bad dream, I thought you were gone.”

It was barely a whisper but you understood him right away.

Just as you always did. 

“Not going anywhere anymore,” you placed a gentle kiss on his cheek before taking his hand, taking a step back, and pulling him towards the bedroom.

“And where to? We have so much to do you, you know? Meet your colleagues, and then you meet mine. Take cute photos, try cake! Lots of cake! Decide what place we like best.”

Yunho blinked as he fell onto his bed with you. This was much more comfortable and he pulled you close, placing kisses over your shoulder before resting his chin on top of your head.

“Cake and places?” he asked before leaning back to look you in the eyes.

You had this incredibly cute and confident grin on your lips and now that he thought of it, it was more sexy than adorable. You had become such an incredible person and he could not wait to spend the rest of his life with you. To have the person he loved the most by his side again while also learning all about what was new.

Nothing would separate you again. 

“Well, we have been engaged for eight years now, yes? I think, it’s about time we do the thing!”

Yunho blushed as he looked at you and your features softened but the two of you knew it was true.

Because, the two of you always belonged to each other, been each others', and even with so many years apart, it never would change just that.

“I love you,” he whispered, and his heart jumped when you said those words he longed to hear again for so long back right away.

Without hesitation.

You were together

The drum of rain gently fell against the window. Autumn had come. 

But maybe with the right person by your side, it always could be summer.

[mayearies]

… ꒰ঌ ໒꒱

❛ WUSYANAME ❜

miles morales

˚ʚ property of ©hiimayee ɞ˚

alt title: none! genre: fluff | warnings: characterized reader, mention of gwen (like twice) authors input: i like giving up sometimes

summary: miles meets someone new and starts obsessing over them ♬ song: WUSYANAME by tyler, the creator . nba youngboy . ty dolla $ign

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ next ->

e1610 miles had never been in a relationship before. but he wanted to be in one. he honestly was interested in someone not in his orbit, and he didn’t expect that to change. well, not change so soon.

—miles’ school attendance wasn’t the best because of the whole double life he was living. hell, when he did go to school he didn’t pay attention that much. that’s how his grades stayed relatively average. he knew he could get them back up later.

today was a busy day, though. right before school started, something happened down the street which called for spiderman’s attention a little longer than it should’ve. now he was late. trying to duck and dodge people in the hallways so he could make the bell. but that didn’t work out either. maybe for the better?

“hey, you good?”

he bumped into you and stumbled a bit. like, head first into your shoulder. he groaned a little, but he’s felt worse. “yeah, i’m good sor-“

now that he could actually process what he was looking at, you were pretty. really pretty. ‘gorgeous’ he would say—in his head. not gonna lie, he felt a little intimidated by you. your two-toned, shiny lips, your chocolate skin, and how good you looked in your uniform. a lot to take in, yeah?

“you seem a little frozen, you sure you’re okay?”

oh, and he already forgot what you sounded like. your voice sounded sweet, as sweet as honey. call him down bad but you could tell him to do whatever and he would do it. he didn’t even feel this way about gwen.

you snapped your fingers in his face, he looked petty spaced out. he was looking at your eyes, though. “hello??”

“oh- what? sorry, sorry. i didn’t mean to do that.” “no, it’s okay. but you’re sure you’re fine?” “more or less. this happens all the time.”

that was an exaggeration. he would just turn invisible sometimes and crawl on walls to get by. but it was cute how awkward he was being. at least you found it to be. he didn’t realize he had been so lost that both of you had missed the bell. but it’s not like it was the top of either of your minds right now. you hadn’t seen him before, but you were interested.

“i haven’t seen you before. are you new?” “no? i’ve been here since freshman year.”

okay, well thank god he didn’t skip school today or he might not have met you. as maybe he was more absent than he would like to believe. he wanted to talk to you some more, but the hall monitor’s yelling disrupted that.

“well, i guess we both gotta go. it was nice meeting you.” “yeah, it was. wait, uh-“

˚ʚ WUSYANAME, girlfriend-

“what’s your name?”

©hiimayee masterlist <- <-

[starrystevie]

it’s after everything is said and done, after max wakes up with cloudy eyes and eddie is no longer a wanted man and will feels like he’s alone in his skin again, that steve starts the headcount. he brushes it off as an old habit from his basketball days. says that as the captain, he had to do counts at their away games to make sure everyone got back on the bus, so it's become ingrained in him. everyone knows that the real reason is more complicated than that with monsters and darkness, but no one dares open that can of worms.

there’s a grand total of 12 of them: the six big kids and the six not so little anymore kids. he starts in height order because it's easier that way, goes from shortest to tallest and always counts himself last because he tends to forget about himself if he was in the fray of it.

but then eddie leaves. the government comes in with their less than generous hush money and hands it over to him seemingly out of the blue, but it's just what he needs to get the hell out of dodge. out of a town that still spits venom at him as he walks down the street because a cleared name doesn't mean a cleared verdict in the eyes of the public. he packs up with wayne and they move without telling any of the party where they're going because they want a fresh start without the ties of murder and split ceilings following them.

the count goes down to 11. steve skips from jonathan to argyle without a certain curly head in between them and tries to ignore the way his heart pulls painfully at the fact that whatever eddie was to him, whatever he was starting to be for eddie, is over just as fast as it barely started.

it's an eerily cold april evening when the count goes down to 10. the bonfire in steve's backyard has dwindled down to smokey embers as they pack up for the night with sticky marshmallow fingers and sugar highs that leave them laughing loudly. steve watches as everyone makes their way up to the house, all 10 of them-

steve recounts. gets to 10 and pokes himself hard in the chest to make sure he doesn't forget himself as the last and his lungs feel painfully too tight once he realizes that there's a different curly head missing from his count.

"henderson," he whispers, his head whipping around to find dustin in the moonlight. he looks from the tree line up to the road and feels his heart pick up to twice the beats it should be. "where did... henderson?!"

everyone stops. steve can feel them all looking at him, but all he can see is decay floating through the air and bats circling overhead and vines crawling over his feet and he hears the screams echoing in his head that have plagued him since he pulled eddie out from that haunted place.

"dustin!" steve's throat is raw as he screams, his lungs burning as he runs around the expanse of his backyard, and he tries so fucking hard not to panic but his count was 11 when the started and he'll be damned if it won't end with 11.

there's a commotion in the house that he writes off as the rest of the group trying to figure out why steve's running around but when he listens closely, it sounds happy. he can hear cheers and he has to force himself not to get angry because how could they be happy that dustin is missing but then it's-

"-eddie?"

the two curly heads that have messed with his count are standing in steve's doorway with matching grins. eddie's hand is laying flat on dustin's head, shaking him around the tiniest bit before detaching and pulling steve into a hug. it feels like something unfurling in steve's too tight chest as he melts into the smell, the comfort, the warmth that is eddie, his own shaking arms snaking around his waist to ground himself.

"am i too late to join the party?" eddie whispers next to steve's ear and it makes a choked off laugh escape him. "sorry for scaring you, stevie, dustin was just the first one to open the door. didn't mean to mess up your count."

there are questions that need to be asked like how dustin managed to sneak inside to get the door without steve noticing and how he even heard the knocking in the first place and what eddie is doing back in hawkins and if he can up his count to a dozen for good again, but those questions can wait.

he presses his head to eddie's collarbone, takes in a deep breath to steady himself, and smiles when he counts to 12 in his head.

[heliads]

sorry to send in two requests but if you've got the time Luke Patterson x reader where she is his tutor for English or something and he develops a crush, so even when he understands the stuff she's teaching him he pretends to be confused so that the tutoring sessions last longer. And then one day he gets a good grade and she's proud of him but that means the sessions are over so he builds up the courage to ask her out? You can put this at the bottom of the list or not even write it because I know how swamped your requests get, but ily.

do not apologize for two requests!! my blog exists for you!! and jatp s2 may be dead but my feelings for that show are not. xoxo

masterlist

Luke Patterson is currently fighting a one-man war against his English class, and he is losing. Badly. This was not supposed to be his problem class, he was thinking the biggest struggle would be math or science, but surprise surprise, there’s no such thing as a class you can just skate through. He tried to skate through English. He tried really, really hard, but instead of Spark Notes-ing his way through whatever classic book they threw his way, Luke’s staring at a bright red D on his latest essay.

This would happen to be the most recent essay they were assigned, the one Luke pushed off until the last minute because he was too invested in getting some good songs down on paper. He hadn’t meant to procrastinate, he never does, it’s just that whenever Luke had a spare hour or two, it’s always far more tempting to head out to the studio and mess around with some chord progressions than to do homework.

This essay had gone just like all the other ones so far this year. The book had been assigned, the essay followed not soon after, and Luke told himself that he was going to start it on time for a change. The only problem was that he came home late that day after a shift at his job, so he couldn’t start it that day, and then he was studying for a test the next day, and after that he was working on songs. Before he knew it, it was the night before and he was speed writing to get everything down in time. Luke doesn’t even think he had time to proofread before turning in that mess.

So yeah, he shouldn’t really be surprised about this grade in particular. Still, he isn’t pleased about it. He doesn’t want to see the look on his parents’ face when he dodges another question about his grades, nor listen to all the other kids in his class talk about how easy that essay prompt was. Everything just makes him feel worse.

And, if Luke’s day couldn’t get any better, his English teacher pulls him aside after class to talk about it.

“I noticed your last few assignments haven’t been going as expected,” she says sympathetically, “is there anything you want to tell me about that?”

There’s a lot Luke wants to tell her, such as the fact that this class is dry as a saltine and twice as bland. They’ve spent the last few classes just going over social hierarchies around the time when the book was written, talk about boring. If Luke wanted to study history, he’d read a textbook.

He can’t say all that without damaging his final grade even more, though, so Luke plasters on a grin and does his best impression of an earnest student who’s just had a bad string of luck. “Not really, I’ve just been so busy recently that I didn’t have enough time to really ponder the prompt, you know?”

Usually, this is Luke’s best strategy for getting out of these kinds of nonsense conferences. He’ll whip out a few key words like ‘time commitments’ and whatnot and his teachers will fall for it every time.

He might have done this too often, though, because his teacher just nods and refuses to let him go. “That makes sense to me. Do you think it would help to spend a little more time exploring the prompt or connecting the book to the essay topics?”

“Sure,” Luke says vaguely. He’s only half paying attention; he just saw Reggie outside the door mouthing the words what did you do?? as dramatically as he could.

The teacher looks pleased by this. “That’s what I thought. I’ve gone ahead and signed you up for some tutoring sessions, you’ll start this afternoon after school.”

Luke blinks. “Wait, what?” Clearly, he hasn’t been paying attention nearly enough. Since when was tutoring on the table?

The teacher spreads her hands. “You need a little more help and organization to stay on track. Tutoring is the perfect answer to this.”

“Is it?” Luke asks feebly.

“Absolutely,” the teacher decides, and that’s that. Luke tries to wheedle his way out of it through repetition of how busy he is, like, all the time, but it doesn’t matter. She’s caught him in a half-lie and there’s nothing he can do to avoid it.

Reggie’s waiting for Luke outside the door when he finally leaves. “What happened in there?”

“Pure misery,” Luke groans, and contemplates giving himself a concussion by ‘accidentally’ falling down the stairs so he can go home without having to go to tutoring.

Unfortunately, Reggie enlists Alex in keeping Luke free of head trauma, and so he finds himself in an empty classroom later that afternoon, mournfully watching all of the other students leave the school with no doubt wonderful plans awaiting them.

Luke’s just starting to wonder if his tutor isn’t going to show up after all (after fifteen minutes, he’s legally allowed to leave, right) when someone slides into the seat in front of him.

“Sorry about being late,” they gasp, “I just found out I was doing this like ten minutes ago.”

Luke breaks his desolate stare out the window to glance at his tutor and instantly, he feels the crushing weight of shame bear down on him tenfold. It would have been one thing to have a total stranger be his tutor, someone Luke could avoid looking at in the hallways and never speak to again, but he knows this girl. More importantly, he’s thought she was cute for at least the last four years.

This is the worst case scenario, then. Y/N L/N is smart, she’s pretty, and judging by the fact that Luke always sees her in a group of friends laughing at her jokes, she’s funny, too. Definitely someone Luke would want to impress through gigs or shows instead of, say, his crumbling English grades.

“I’m Y/N,” she says, and Luke realizes that she’s probably been waiting for him to say something. Great, he can’t even introduce himself properly.

“Luke,” he answers, “but you probably knew that already.”

Y/N laughs, and judging by the slightly manic tone behind it, she’s just about as composed about the whole thing as he is. That makes him settle slightly in his chair, lowering his guard. “I was told that I would be tutoring you when I was trying to leave class. Ms. Brown pulled me aside when the bell rang and told me about it.”

“That makes two of us,” Luke grumbles.

The corners of Y/N’s lips quirk up before she manages to tamp them down again, and if Luke weren’t totally out of his mind, he might even say that Y/N has the same attitude towards their English teacher as he does. That would certainly make this whole tutoring experience a lot more interesting.

“So,” she says, clearing her throat in an attempt to sound official, “you wanted to talk about essay pointers, right?”

Luke starts to say something about how he didn’t want any of this, actually, but Y/N arches a brow and he relents. “Yeah, essay stuff. The last one didn’t go over too hot.”

Y/N tilts her head to the side, contemplating this. “Did you agree with her grading?”

“Yeah,” Luke admits, “she wasn’t wrong to mark me down, I kind of did it the night before in one sitting.”

Y/N frowns. “Really? Why’d you put it off so long? I thought you liked writing. Whenever I see you, you’re always jotting something down in that notebook of yours.”

Luke grins. “You’ve been watching me? That’s creepy, you know.” He’s obviously holding back a laugh, though, so the comment has no trace of a barb.

Y/N rolls her eyes, although her face looks a little hot at the moment. “Just answer the question.”

“Alright,” he says, hands raised in mock surrender, “you’re right, I do like writing.”

“Then why wait until the last minute to do the essay? I mean, I get not having a ton of time to work on assignments, but if you really do enjoy writing, it shouldn’t be all that bad, right?”

Luke groans. “ This is different. It’s not fun writing,” he tries to excuse himself.

It sounds bad even to him. Already, Luke can see how this is going to play out– she’ll laugh at him, maybe, say that someone who just got a grade like him can’t possibly be thinking about writing and fun in any way at all. She doesn’t, though. Instead, she nods and smiles at him. A real smile. Not mocking in any way.

“What is fun writing, then?” She asks.

Luke blinks in surprise. “Well, writing songs is fun, I guess,” he stammers, “stuff that actually matters, you know? All these essays are the exact same, but songs are all different. That’s why I care about them and not some pointless paper.”

Y/N nods. “That makes sense to me. So you release music, right?”

Luke isn’t sure where she’s going with this, but he’s perfectly happy to talk about music instead of that offensive red scribble all over his paper, so he plays along. “Yeah, me and my band. We try to, at least.”

“Have you ever gotten a review that bothered you? Not because they didn’t like it, but because they disliked your songs for the wrong reason? Like you had a whole story in mind for your album but the critics just ignored it?” She prompts him.

“Yeah,” Luke says, eyes widening with irritation, “Man, it’s so annoying. You go to all the trouble of writing out these ideas, and you make them have a really good meaning, too, and then it’s like they never read it at all. It makes me so mad sometimes, I want to write a column or something in response about how they totally missed my point.”

“Like, say, an argumentative essay about the real strengths of your chosen piece of writing?” Y/N says as casually as she can.

Luke’s about to argue and say that’s not like this at all, but on second thought, it is. It totally is. “Wait, you’re right. I never thought about it like that, but you’re right. Y/N L/N,” he decides on the spot, “I really like you.”

She grins back at him. “Luke Patterson, I like you too.”

That settles it for him. Luke had been annoyed at the thought of having to suffer through tutoring beforehand, but maybe he’ll be alright with it now. Y/N isn’t a part of the oppressive legion of teachers all conniving to make his life a living hell because he wants to be a musician instead of a doctor or a banker, she’s on his side. That makes it all better somehow.

And, unsurprisingly, it is better. Luke actually ends up having a really good time in his tutoring sessions with Y/N. They don’t feel like tutoring at all, more like a chance to hang out with a friend. They talk about Jane Austen and tell awesome jokes, read Shakespeare and spend more and more time together. Luke knows this is only a temporary thing until his grades get back up, but it’s too easy to forget that.

Until, one day, it isn’t. His English teacher hands back an essay with a bright red ‘A’ marked on the front, and tells him that she’s proud of all the progress he’s made so quickly. Instead of a sigh of relief, the only thing escaping Luke’s lips is a desolate sigh. After all, if Luke’s improved to this point, that kind of means his tutoring sessions will be over, right?

Y/N doesn’t know that, though. Y/N doesn’t have access to his grades. All she knows is what Luke tells her, and if informing her of his latest essay win means she’ll stop seeing him after school, why should Luke let slip a single syllable?

So, later that day, when Y/N asks him how the latest essay went, Luke shrugs and pretends to be disappointed. “I’d hoped for more,” he says, “she, uh, didn’t like my commentary.”

“Really?” Y/N questions, frowning slightly, “I thought you were really good at that.”

Luke’s eyes widen, caught in a lie. “Who knows with teachers, right?” He laughs weakly.

Y/N pretends to shudder. “I know, right? I feel like half of your grade is literally just how much she likes you. English classes are always so subjective.”

“Subjective?” Luke asks, grinning and propping his chin up on his hand, “Tell me about that.”

Y/N laughs. “Only if you promise we’ll talk Jane Eyre immediately afterwards. Immediately.”

“I so swear,” Luke intones, holding up his right hand with all the solemnity of a president being sworn into office.

Y/N swats him on the shoulder with her notebook, but she obliges, and maybe they don’t talk about Jane immediately. Maybe they laugh a little longer than usual. And maybe, just maybe, Luke thinks that he’s perfectly fine with obscuring the truth if it means he can have more of this when he needs it the most.

The truth, unfortunately, has a habit of making itself heard regardless of who is inclined to hide it. Luke comes into their usual study spot in the library one day to see Y/N waiting for him, not already in her seat like normal but standing tentatively at the side.

He frowns, slinging his backpack down on the ground and pulling up a chair. “Everything alright? You look like you’re about to run. If you’ve got something planned, we can do this another day.”

Y/N shakes her head slightly. “No, I’m free all day.”

Luke gestures towards the table. “Then sit down, my legs are getting tired just looking at you. We’ve got stuff to study, don’t we?”

“Well, that’s what I was going to ask about,” Y/N says, “Ms. Brown stopped me after class today, said she had someone else she wanted me to tutor. I said I was already booked with you and she was confused. Apparently you’ve been doing just fine for quite some time.”

Luke feels his breath catch in his throat. This is not how he’d wanted Y/N to find out. For what must be the hundredth time this year, Luke sends out a silent curse to all meddlesome English teachers.

“Yeah,” he says as carefully as he can, “I have, but only because of your expert tutoring. It’s like antibiotics, you know? You don’t stop taking ‘em when you start feeling better, only when the prescription is over.”

Y/N blinks at him in surprise. “What are you talking about?”

He runs a hand through his hair, trying not to feel like everything is slipping out of control in an instant. “It was a simile, sorry. A bad one. All I mean is that we don’t have to stop this just because I got a good grade or two.”

Y/N almost looks like she’s smiling, but that could just be Luke being delusional. “I thought you didn’t want to do tutoring.”

“I didn’t at the start, but you’re different. We’re cool. We are cool, right?” Luke starts rambling more and more with each passing second, but he can’t help it. He’s overthinking everything. What if he’s literally just been a tutee this whole time, and she doesn’t think they’re friends at all?

Y/N stares at him a second longer, then takes a seat at last. “Luke Patterson, are you telling me that you like my company so much that you’re willing to keep going to extra English practice just to see me?”

Luke can feel his face heating up, but he does his best to ignore it. “Well, when you put it that way, it sounds–” He still has a little bit of self control left, so he cuts himself off before he can make a truly terrible mistake.

Y/N catches him, though. “It sounds like what?”

“It sounds like I like you,” he admits, and Y/N’s smiling at him, so he decides to take the leap of faith and just do what he’s been wanting to do for quite some time. Since the start of this, actually. “And I do like you. I like you a lot. I might not need the tutoring anymore, but that doesn’t mean I want to stop seeing you. So what if we met up sometime soon? Not for English, for us.”

Luke decides that he likes Y/N’s smile more than anything. “Are you asking me out?” She says.

“I am,” he affirms. “Are you saying yes?”

“I am,” she repeats.

Suddenly, Luke feels like the luckiest kid of all. Maybe he does have to throw in a good word or two for meddlesome English teachers after all. Sometimes they have a way of connecting you with the best people in the world.

requested by @thatfangirl42, i hope you enjoy!

jatp tag list: @rogueanschel, @retvenkos, @callsign-scully, @lovesanimals0000, @amortensie

[em1e]

⠀めぐみ // SKATES ⠀ ༝ ༝ megumi fushiguro [ft. brother!gojo] ⠀༝ ༝ 3.6k words ⠀ ⚠︎ unrequited love!itadori + ice skater/hockey player au + mentions of drinking + i've never watched a hockey game in my life ⠀ — since the ripe age of eight, you’d pined for him and since he was seventeen, megumi had eyed you with that puppy-dog gaze, and neither of you seemed to notice it from the other. 

“it’s just so hard to talk to them.” 

megumi was never one to confide in others about his problems, but itadori somehow brings out a special side of him. 

“have you tried . . . you know, actually speaking to them?” the teasing grin doesn’t escape the dark-haired male, earning itadori a swipe from megumi. the former narrowly dodges the attack on the ice, holding his hockey stick out as if it’d help keep some amount of distance between the two. “hey, i’m only trying to help!” 

megumi skates closer to itadori despite the stick staying between the two of them, “i’ve already told you why it’s . . . difficult.” 

unintentionally, both pairs of eyes settle on a mop of white hair, off to the side of the rink giving instructions to another one of their teammates. 

“i get they’re related to coach gojo or whatever, and you have some weird mentor-parental-figure thing going on with him, but is that really enough reason to not talk to them?” 

megumi only turns his nose in response, choosing the option of not answering to be the lesser of two evils. 

“don’t think i’ve ever seen you get so worked up over somethin’,” itadori muses with a grin, “you must’ve liked ‘em for a real long time.” 

“shut up.” megumi’s eyes cut to meet itadori’s, narrowed, “just . . . help me, or whatever.” 

“help with what? talking to them? or dealing with whatever you have between coach gojo?” 

megumi mulls over the questions for a second before grimacing, “both?”

“alright,” itadori grins, “here’s what you gotta do . . . “

⠀ ༝ ༝ 

okay, megumi has to hand it to itadori. he isn’t as stupid as some might think. he may be beefy and thick-headed, but he does have some decent ideas. megumi can admit that easily- to himself at least. 

one of the many brilliant things he’s conjured up is watching one of your skating competitions. 

but he only agrees because it’s convenient! your match just happened to be in the same stadium as theirs, set thirty minutes before they need to pull on their own skates, and gojo might’ve invited him to watch what little he could - in front of itadori, no less, leaving megumi to only be able to say ‘sure!’, lest he face itadori later in the locker rooms with that weird judgmental look he likes to give. so -

the three of them sit in the stands. 

decked in their hockey jerseys, waiting for the twirling to start. 

itadori grins, watching megumi from the corner of his eye. his friend bounces his leg anxiously, while the announcer introduces the performers; you and a figure skating partner. maki zenin? the name sounds familiar. 

gojo mumbles something about how nervous you were for this competition, how you practiced day and night and would come back to your shared apartment with bruises littering your arms and legs. 

the two of you skate onto the ice, masks covering your eyes and sparkling outfits adorning your figures; both blue and open chested. it’s cute, how they match, even though itadori has some understanding that it’s only for aesthetics. 

you both take a bow, turn to face each other, and then the music starts. 

and damn is it impressive. 

it starts off measured, in tandem with the music. but slowly, slowly, it picks up until you’re both jumping and spinning and doing all these other incredible moves and everything is synchronized together. 

gojo kicks at itadori’s foot, shaking his daze from the incredible show. 

“match is gonna start soon, gotta get you guys into your skates.” 

itadori blinks once. twice. then nods. he forgot entirely about their own thing. itadori spares a glance to megumi, who’s still completely entranced by your performance. he nudges his friend, who almost recoils at being caught watching so intently. 

“what?” he grinds out, trying to hide the blush forming on his cheeks. 

“our match.” itadori says dumbly, “gotta go.” 

megumi’s eyes flicker from the rink, then back to his friend, before he stands and walks briskly past the two of them without another word. the remaining pairs of eyes meet, before the contact is broken as itadori stands to get his own skates on. 

⠀ ༝ ༝

it’s kind of surprising how many bruises one person can acquire in such a short period of time. 

getting absolutely bodied time and time again isn’t something they’re unused to, but damn. what do these guys eat for breakfast? they’ve managed to keep the score even the entire game, and if megumi gets slammed into the side panels one more time, he thinks he might fucking snap. 

they aren’t quitters, though. the whole team knows that, and they all know that they’ll never hear the end of it from gojo if they lose after being so close to winning. 

it’s interesting to watch from the stand, you note yourself; now in sweats and a hoodie instead of the sparkly skating outfit. maki sits beside you silently taking in each hit your home team takes against the see-through panels. you have the gist down of the game; get the puck into the enemy's goal, but the rest isn’t really your forte. getting smacked around by guys bigger than you isn’t the ideal way to spend your time. 

the game reaches its end with your brother’s team just barely winning. a close call, but you can tell they’re excited nonetheless - skating off the ice with high-fives and chest bumps despite their surely aching muscles. you tap maki’s arm, signaling that you were leaving; plans to meet with your brother after their match pre-made. 

you wait outside of the locker room, thinking back on your performance and the things you should practice; certain jumps for the next competition, possible new routines and the like. one by one, the team files out the door, still as cheery as when they got off the ice. gojo pushes past his players with a laugh as he exits, ducking and narrowly avoiding a kneepad to the head. his shoes aren’t even tied, tripping over his own feet and running straight into you. 

he takes you down in one swoop, grimacing at the impact before realizing you didn’t hit your head. thankfully. 

“god satoru, what’s your problem?”

“sorry!” he hurries out, “megumi was trying to-” 

“you idiot-!” 

you grin at their antics, despite having practically all the air knocked from your lungs. gojo moves to help you stand, shoving you forward in front of your dear friend megumi, who does a double-take at your brother using you as a shield. 

megumi opens his mouth to say something, probably a snide comment to gojo, before thinking better of it and settling on a glare directed at your brother. another player stumbles out the door, grabbing at megumi’s shoulder to pull him back. 

“woah, fushi, let’s take a breather!” 

you can’t help the snort that escapes you, covering your mouth while both pairs of eyes snap to you. 

“‘fushi’?” you giggle out, “didn’t know you had other nicknames, ‘gumi.” 

he flushes, ears tinting red while glaring daggers at the imbecile who dared to call him something so ridiculous. 

“only idiots call me that.” 

itadori finally looks at you instead of his friend, really taking a look at you and damn. you’re nothing like he expected, though he doesn’t even know what he expected. 

you’re the one megumi is head over heels for, and he can really see why. charming in every way it counts, with a bright smile that has him looking away to evade the blush wanting to seep its way onto his cheeks. 

what an odd turn of events. 

⠀ ༝ ༝

somehow, the four of you end up at your apartment; gojo insisting on buying dinner despite everyone trying to pitch in. 

“think of it as a congrats for a well played game - and well performed dance.” he says with a wave of his hand and a grin. not one of you has the energy to argue, so you watch as he leaves the apartment to pick up the take-out. 

megumi and itadori make themselves comfortable on your couch while you make drinks for everyone. tea you’d settled, the promise of it helping their achy muscles on the tip of your tongue as you bring them their cups. 

you find yourself in the loveseat across from them, legs tucked under you while you hold the warm cup close to you, “so, when did you guys meet? it’s rare to meet a friend of ‘gumi’s who hasn’t jumped ship within a month of knowing him.” 

megumi glares at the nickname, transferring it to itadori as he snickers. 

“i knew him in highschool, but we didn’t really talk ‘til i joined the team like ten . . . months ago?” he smiles as he answers, knocking shoulders with his friend, before his brows furrow, “come to think of it, gojo was coaching the school’s team then before he transferred to this one.” 

an unasked question sits on his tongue, head tilting slightly when you smile, “i went to a different high school, didn’t want to be known as the coaches sibling,” you explain with a giggle, “got accepted to a private school with a focus on figure skating.” 

“have you done figure skating long?” itadori sets his cup down and leans back against the couch. 

“pretty much my whole life, since i was like nine. it’s how i met maki , actually.” you smile fondly at the thought of your friend, gaze softening, and the shift in your demeanor isn’t missed by the two, who share a look. 

“are you guys . . . ?” itadori starts, only to be nudged by megumi who gives him a glare. don’t ask. don’t tell. 

your eyebrows raise at the question before you laugh, having to set down your own cup of tea in order to not spill it all over yourself, “dating? no, god no. she’s been pining after yuuta for the last two years-” you say before you can stop yourself. itadori’s face matches your previously surprised one, brows almost reaching his hairline. their yuuta? number one goalie and worst person at flirting? that yuuta? 

“don’t um. . . tell yuuta. or anyone.” 

megumi visibly relaxes at hearing there’s no secret relationship between the two of you, side eyeing itadori. itadori, who hums, “well does yuuta. . . ya know, like her back?” 

you mull over the question before shrugging, “maybe? i don’t really know him super well, but when we do talk, he blushes when her name is mentioned and always speaks so highly of her. i think he doesn’t realize maki feels the same, so they both just keep it to themselves.” 

“yuuta wouldn’t know someone had a crush on him if it hit him in the face.” megumi grumbles, earning a giggle from you. 

“he seems like the type.”  

megumi snorts, eyes narrowing, “yeah, like you’re any better. remember when that kid left a letter in your locker to meet ‘em at the cafe near your school and you made me go with you? poor kid looked like he wanted to crawl into a hole afterwards.” 

your face warms as you rush to sit up straighter, waving your hands, “no, oh my god, don’t remind me!” you squeak out, “that was so embarrassing! he told his friends and i never got another confession letter after that!” 

“maybe you shouldn’t bring people with you to deny your dumb confessions,” megumi argues with no malice, grinning at your dismay. 

you continue to bicker back and forth between each other, reminiscing on the past and adding teasing remarks to each memory. through it all, itadori watches from the sidelines, a grin on his face. 

it’s cute, almost, seeing megumi speak to someone who isn’t a teammate or a rival or a coach or a fan or whatever and there be nothing but warmth in his tone. it’s sweet and refreshing and feels like a breath of fresh air after a long hockey game that’s kept them on the brink of failing and yet . . . 

his chest aches. 

there’s a burn somewhere deep down that has him clenching his jaw and looking down to his lap when you laugh loudly at a joke megumi makes. he feels almost like he doesn’t belong here, in the space with the two of you. it’s too intimate, despite you sitting several feet apart. he’s an intruder on this precious moment that he helped megumi prepare for. all for someone he could have never known he’d want just as much. 

“is there a bathroom?” itadori asks when your laughter dies down to a small fit of giggles, hand covering your mouth to hide your smile. 

“yeah, of course!” you scramble to get up, “let me show you, the lock is kinda finicky sometimes.”

you lead the way and itadori is left behind in the scent of fresh linen and lavender and everything that can only be described as you, and when you explain with a smile on your face how to twist the knob while locking it to make sure it clicks in place, itadori feels the burn in his chest swirl down deep into his gut until it settles there heavily. 

he sits in the bathroom for a little longer than necessary after you leave him alone. 

⠀ ༝ ༝

the ride back to their apartment is silent, stomachs full and tired beyond anyone's belief from their game. 

itadori stares solemnly out the window, noting how it’s almost dramatic the way raindrops roll down the glass, how the clouds make the night sky look a hundred times inkier than it naturally is. 

it’s megumi who breaks the silence, clearing his throat before he speaks, “do you um . . . what . . . what’s the verdict?” 

if itadori could see his friend in the dark, he’d be able to make out the way his cheeks light up pink, unable to to return a glance and gripping the steering wheel unnecessarily tight. 

“for?” he prompts, though he’s sure he knows where this conversation is headed. 

“them.” megumi clarifies ominously, “do you think i might have a chance or whatever.” his voice trails off. 

the sinking feeling returns in the pit of his stomach, and itadori fights to push it down. 

“yeah,” he answers honestly, “they’re sweet on you, talk to you in a different way than everyone else.” 

megumi’s breath stutters at his friend's confession, and itadori has half a mind to remind him to breathe before he kills the both of them; one death due to asphyxiation, the other in a fiery crash. 

“cool.” he says after a moment, “cool, cool, cool.” 

“i’ll help you.” itadori decides to settle with as they pull into the parking lot, “i’ll get the rundown for how they feel and stuff - like a secret wingman.” he sends megumi a toothy grin, and megumi finds himself sending a smile back, albeit small compared to the shining of itadori’s pearly whites. 

and as they carry their hockey gear up two flights of stairs, itadori wonders for a second if his reasoning is all-that innocent. he’s sure, no, positive he wants to help his friend get the person of his dreams. but as he lays in bed, the sinking feeling returns with a dull ache below his gut, and he fears the implication. 

⠀ ༝ ༝

you’re so much easier to talk to than he realized. 

conversation flows so freely from you, and itadori eats up each word that passes your lips without hesitation, eager to keep the flux constant and take everything you have to say with greed. 

he commits each detail to memory with the intention to relay every bit of information you offer to megumi when the two of them are in the safe confines of their home. 

just last week, he’d managed to squeeze a blush out of you as you admitted megumi was your first kiss (a dare, he learned, in middle school when a game of truth or dare threw the two of you into something much more intimate than either you would have ever thought). and tonight, through drunken giggles, celebrating in your apartment after a well-earned win, you delve into the fact that megumi has been your only kiss. almost a decade since, and he’s the only person your lips have touched. 

itadori was practically vibrating as he tells megumi, so very certain of one reason as to why that could be. 

“they totally have the hots for you.” itadori manages to slur out, one too many wine coolers consumed when the two of you tried to out-drink each other. 

megumi grunts, half-heartedly pushing at itadori’s shoulders to get him to pass the threshold of their door, “you think so?” 

“know so.” the reply is almost instant, “you should hear the way they talk ‘bout ya, so sweet nd pretty nd soft.” he grins, “s’cute.” 

megumi freezes behind him, pausing his efforts to get him inside for only a second before he’s back to it, “right.” 

megumi fushiguro may be many things. awkward, aggressive, easily annoyed, but he’s not stupid. 

he sees the way itadori looks at you. sees how his eyes light up in a way that's all-too familiar, and the thought of itadori, his best friend, having a crush on you twists his stomach into intangible knots. 

he pushes the possibility away as he eases his friend into bed, unable to stop the smile from spreading across his face when he looks at his phone as he tucks himself away into his room. 

      The Annoying Gojo     txt me ypu made it homw safe!!

he can overlook the misspells, just this once, warmth setting in his chest at your concern. 

     gumi <3       Made it home safe. Drink some water.

you smile stupidly as your eyes dance across your screen, shoving your phone into gojo’s face. 

“look, look, look!” gojo has to grab your wrist and force you to steady yourself, squinting to read. 

“. . . okay?” 

you press the phone closer to his eyes as if that could make him understand clearer what you want him to understand, “he cares, 'toru! ‘gumi cares ‘bout me.” 

he already knows, if the way he acts around you is anything to go by. still, gojo rolls his eyes and pushes your phone away, “don’t go distracting one of my best players now, or you’ll be banned from coming to games.” 

you pout, pulling your phone to your chest protectively, mumbling something about that not being fair and him being so mean for even suggesting the thought. 

still, as gojo leads you to bed, he wonders for a second what truly could be going on in his prodigies mind when it comes to you. you’d been quick friends since gojo practically took megumi in to raise him, much to the boy’s dismay at the time, and he’s watched from the sidelines as the two of you blossomed into incredible young adults. 

since the ripe age of eight, you’d pined for him and since he was seventeen, megumi had eyed you with that puppy-dog gaze, and neither of you seemed to notice it from the other. 

⠀ ༝ ༝

you and maki won your competition. you qualify for nationals. the excitement is palpable, and as you exit the locker room, maki in tow behind you, it’s megumi’s arms you jump into excitedly (completely ignoring your brother and the whines he gives when you don’t immediately accept the flowers he’s brought for you). when you finally separate to acknowledge the rest of the group, itadori finds it impossible to tear his gaze from the blush on your cheeks. 

you hug him, too, and finish with your brother, who picks you up and spins you for your well-earned win. your laughter is infectious, bubbling something warm in his chest that has him smiling too while a now dating yuuta and maki say their goodbyes - hands held together and matching blushes on their cheeks in their retreat. 

and of course to celebrate, there’s drinking. 

after a nice dinner (that gojo paid for), the four of you settle with your liquor (that gojo bought) in your apartment. you’re already pretty tipsy by the time you settle on the couch beside megumi, itadori on the loveseat across from you. a giggle passes your lips as gojo leaves the apartment on the phone, saying something about business, reminded easily of the first time the three of you had been left in your home together. 

“‘gumi, ‘gumi, you’re coming to my finals right?” you ask, disregarding the blush that decorates his cheeks as you practically stick to his side. megumi’s eyes meet itadori’s for help, and the latter only shrugs while giving him a thumbs up. he can handle this. 

itadori excuses himself to the bathroom. 

and as he hears your giggle drifting through the apartment, saccharine sweet and not for him, he finds himself closing the door with a little more force than necessary. it’s then that itadori realizes how unfair life can be. when he looks at himself in the mirror, hands braced against the granite counter, he wonders if things could’ve been different. 

if he had met you sooner, would things be different? 

he’s reminded how crudely unfair it is that you were introduced to him so late in life. he's known gojo since high school, but you've known megumi since you were six - and some part of him comes to the conclusion that you’ve probably loved him since then, too. 

when he comes out of the bathroom, you’re tucked safely into megumi’s side, with him whispering things only you could hear, and itadori feels that bitter feelings returning without warning as he makes himself another drink. it’s wrong, he knows, to allow it to settle in a pit, but he knows he never really had a shot to begin with.

not when he can see you giving megumi one of those soft smiles only reserved for him from his spot in the kitchen. not when megumi returns it with his own gentleness that comes by cupping your cheek, by pressing the tenderest of kisses to your lips.

[hannahbarberra162]

Struck Twice By Lightning, Chapter 7

18+ MDNI

On Ao3

I feel like stepping foot on the Red Force gives you +100 drinking XP.

Since the Red Force had only left your island a day ago, you knew the approximate location of the surrounding islands. You spoke with Building Snake and told him that if they wanted you to make sake on board, the best island for supplies would be nearby that day. Given the enthusiasm of the crew for alcohol, it wasn’t surprising that the ship was immediately re-routed to the island you mentioned. 

In the late afternoon, you were walking the streets of the familiar island with Hongo. You had been to this island many times before to market and sell your sake. You purchased the items you needed for the sake making process and Hongo carried them for you, like the gentleman he was. You wanted to speak with one of your best customers, so the two of you made your way to Friendly’s Tavern. The tavern was run by one of the most curmudgeonly and cantankerous old men you’d ever met, and today was no different. You tried your best to put on a pleasant face, since he bought a lot of your stock. The tavern had some customers drinking already, since it was a little after dinner time. The low murmur of chatter continued while you and Hongo walked up to the counter. 

“Hi Archie! Long time no see!” you smiled broadly.

Archie looked up from wiping his counter with a rag. He looked at you like you’d presented him with a dead rat.

“Girl.”

You kept trying to make headway. “I was on the island and thought I’d stop by to say hello. How are you doing?”

“Hello.” Archie did not answer your question, but this was actually an animated conversation between the two of you. You were doing well.

You didn’t hear the talking behind you quiet down, as you were trying to get Archie to say more than one word at a time. Otherwise, you would have dodged the arm that was slung around your waist.

“Archie! How are ya, old man?” Of course, as if right on cue to irritate you, was Shanks.

“Emperor Shanks! So glad to see you again!” The old man said with a bow. He was happy. No, he was practically radiating joy. Whatever magnetism Shanks produced was working in spades on this old codger.

“I see you already know my wife, are you trying to steal her away from me?” Shanks gave you a squish and gave Archie a charming smile. You scowled.

“Girl, that true? You his wife?”

“Technically yes but-”

“Why didn’t you ever say so? I’ll buy every drop of sake you make!” 

 “It must have slipped my mind,” you said with saccharine sweetness. Shanks leaned his head against yours in what would be seen as a sweet gesture.

“See?” he murmured to you, “I’m good for business.” You weren’t looking at him but you knew - you knew - he was smirking.

“I don’t need your help,” you hissed at him. “I get plenty of business on my own.” 

“Once I tell customers it’s Red Haired Shanks’s sake, they’ll buy it for any price.” You nodded at the idiotic bar owner with a smile. Inside, you were furious. You had worked hard to make a name for yourself - without him. Now it was going to be known as Shanks’s sake once the word got out. And there was no putting that cat back in the bag. 

Still, you didn’t want to contradict or diminish Shanks in front of others - that wasn’t the kind of person you were. Sure, you’d give him hell in private or just in front of the crew, but you’d never say a word against him in public. He was an Emperor, after all, and his reputation was important. 

You were tired of talking to this old goose and left the counter to go sit at a table. Whatever Shanks said to the owner made him laugh and give out bottles - of your brew - for the crew. Now felt like a great time to start drinking.

~~~~~

You were right, drinking was a great choice. Your sake was phenomenal, of course, and you were enjoying quite a lot of it. Evidently, the crew had been well received by the islanders previously because a crowd came to party with the Red Haired pirates. Some of the men were flirting with locals, some arm wrestling, and some just chatting casually. Shanks was off…doing whatever …you had lost sight of him, and didn’t care to find him. You were sitting next to Yasopp, Gab, and Monster, exchanging jokes and stories. You had relaxed a little and were feeling a pleasant buzz. You heard a distant din getting louder and louder.

“...just to exclude me!” A female voice was raging at Benn. You didn’t look over but you and your friends exchanged looks and started to listen in. Everyone liked a bit of drama now and again, especially when it was happening to Benn. For some reason, when he was involved, it was always amusing.

“We aren’t taking new crewmates.” Benn said to a young woman. 

“Is it because I’m a woman? Or that you think I’m weak because I’m a woman?” Ha! Benn was going to have to talk his way out of that one. This was getting good. You had a satisfied grin on your face.

“No, that’s not -”

“Because I see you have a new female crew member. She wasn’t here the last time with you guys.” Wait, why was she getting you involved? You didn’t do anything. You weren’t even actually a member of this stupid crew! Your smile started to falter.

“In fact, I bet I can beat her in a duel.” Oh no. No no no no. You tried to duck behind a laughing Yasopp, who was enjoying the escalating situation. Beckman was trying to calm the irate young woman, who just shouted louder. 

“If I beat her in a duel, I get to take her spot on the crew. Hey! Old lady! I challenge you - 

Don’t say it don’t say it don’t say it don’t say it - hey I’m not old - don’t say it don’t say it don’t say it don’t say it don’t say it don’t say it

“- to a duel, pirate’s rules!”

FuuuuuuuUUUUUUUUUUuuuuuuuck. Why couldn’t you just have one nice night?

You had to accept. Pirate’s rules meant that if you rejected her challenge, it would be a loss of reputation for the whole crew. You were annoyed at the situation and very annoyed at the woman. The bar was silent, waiting for your answer. You stood up, gave a scathing look to the young woman, and said “I accept.” The bar broke into a raucous cheer. You held up your pointer finger and the crowd hushed immediately.

“As you know, under Pirate’s rules, I as the challenged get to choose the method.”

The woman grinned wildly and laughed. “That’s no matter, I am as good with a sword as I am with a pistol.”

“I choose drinking contest” you said flatly. The crowd cheered even louder than before.

“Wh-what?” The girl looked around at the roaring crowd, unsure of what to do. “That’s not - that’s not something you can-”

“I can and I did. I can choose any method. If I wanted to, we could be having a spelling bee. Let’s get this over with.” 

A small table had been cleared and two chairs sat opposing one another. You sat down with a thud in one, arms crossed. This was such a waste of your time - and booze too. You glowered at Benn, even though it wasn’t his fault she had challenged you. He shrugged his shoulders, happy he didn’t have to deal with the lady anymore. While others were getting the glasses and alcohol, you spoke to the woman quickly. 

“Listen girl -”

“I am no girl, I am Tiffany of the  -”

“Ok, then shut up and listen, Tiffany. I’m gonna say this now before you get too drunk to remember. If you’re gonna make it as a sea-faring woman, you need to know the code.”

“I know the Pirate’s Code -”

“Shut. Up. Not the stupid fucking Pirate’s Code. The Code of the Daughters of the Seas. Rules for she-pirates.”

“Daughters of the seas is a myth. Captain Niamh is just a fairy tale for little girls.” Tiffany tossed her head back.

You grinned wolfishly. “I hope you say that to her face. Now, drink up Tiff.” You handed her the first shot, and took yours in hand. “Here’s to a massive hangover,” you said and downed yours. 

~~~

A few hours and many shots later, Tiffany was face down on the table. You took your last shot with ease, slammed the glass upside down on the table, and stood up. You raised your arms in triumph, and your crew applauded and whooped for you. Rockstar lifted you up on his shoulders as you took your victory lap around the bar, laughing and shaking patron’s hands. You were the winner, but you were also pretty drunk. OK, very drunk. You patted Rockstar’s head and asked for him to put you down. You ambled outside to get a breath of fresh air after all the heavy drinking. You were leaning against a brick wall, watching the moon, when someone joined in next to you.

“Hi Sh-Shanks. Come to congratulate me for saving the honor of your cr-crew?” You were slurring - not a good sign of things to come.

“You didn’t have to do that, you know.”

“I d-did. It was pirate’s ru-rules.” 

Shanks hummed in response. “How are you feeling?”

“Great. Never felt b-better.” Why was he being serious now, of all times? 

He stayed next to you, not speaking. You were in fact, not feeling great. Your head was starting to spin, and you wanted to lay down. You sank down onto your heels, using the wall as back support. You put your head in your hands, which only made things worse.

“Shanks? Sh-shanks?” You wondered if he had left.

‘I’m here.” 

“I th-think I n-need to leave.”

“Figured. C’mere.” He scooped you up to hold you, and you put your head in the crook of his neck. He was warm and smelled like pine sap, and you just wanted to roll up into him. He started walking towards the wharf with you in his arm.

“Shanks?... Thanks for carrying me.”

“You’re welcome.” You were quiet for a few minutes until you couldn’t keep your thoughts to yourself any longer.

“Shanks? I missed you s-so mu-much. I cried for-forever .”

“Is that so? We can talk more later.”

“OK.” A few more minutes passed in silence.

“Shanks? Are you m-mad at m-me?” You felt your eyes filling with tears.

“No, not at all. I just don’t… want to have this conversation now. I think you’ll regret it.”

“S-sometimes I regret le-leaving.”

“Mmm.”

“W-why are y-you being so nice to m-me?”

“Well, you’re my wife, after all.”

“Then may-maybe you can be my hus-husband again, after all.” You snuggled closer into Shanks's neck and closed your eyes, feeling more content than you had in years. You had a distant thought that this was a bad idea, but you couldn’t remember why. 

[resident-rats]

Gotta ask for #11 for metaltango and maybe early training days???

On it boss 🫡

Prompt: “You talk too much. How about we use your mouth for something else?”

Word count: 1175

[18+ under the cut}

Sparring was the one thing Leon had some confidence in, having already some experience under his belt from back in the police academy. Not a complete novice. But it was quick to dwindle after meeting Krauser. His Major.

The man was easily over six foot, built like a tank. Wearing the constant look of not taking bullshit on his face. And yeah, pretty soon Leon had been put in his place. Perhaps not as good at hand to hand combat as he had hoped.

So, there he was yet again, for the umpteenth time since being on base, flat on his back, staring up at ceiling tiles as Krauser stood over him.

“Pick yourself up Kennedy.”

Business as usual.

They had been at it for about an hour or so. Some rounds going better than others, but regardless they all ended the same.

Leon sprung up. Not willing to surrender yet.

“Come at me rookie, give me all you’ve got.”

“Sure you can handle that?” Grinning to himself as he took to his corner of the mat.

“You say that like you’re good at this.”

“Maybe I’m just letting you win.”

Krauser only scoffed, starting to circle one another. Trying to bait the other into making the first move. But fundamentally it was Leon who lunged first, trying to get a hold of his Major’s shirt. Which the man dodged. Of course he did.

“Old age not caught up with you yet.”

“Shut it rookie.” The cogs clearly turning in the man’s head, watching Leon like a hawk.

But Leon smiled to himself.

“Maybe if you focused you’d bag a win.” Krauser continued.

Leon tried again. Missing completely. Looked like Krauser was just too slippery. Though as he stood there, trying to determine what to do next, the man in front of him moved unexpectedly. Grabbing Leon’s collar, countering his defence with his forearm, before kicking legs from under him. And he was down. Krauser pinning him, thighs sat snug over Leon’s hips. Full weight just holding him there.

All Leon could do was lie there defenceless. If it had been a real life situation he’d have been more than dead.

His heart rabbitted in his chest, still working it’s way through the adrenaline.

“Too slow Boy Scout.” Watching as that wiry smile made an appearance.

Suddenly Leon was all too aware of his own hardening cock. A mixture of adrenaline and the man on top. Sure, he had thought about his Major sometimes. More than guilty of it even. Though usually able to move past that desire when sparring. Only, Krauser was stagnant. Remaining firmly above. Staring down into Leon’s eyes. And Jesus, he hoped that Krauser couldn’t feel it.

“At least you’ve still got it in you.” Meant to break the tension, remind Krauser he had won. That he could get off. But he didn’t.

“Shut up Kennedy.”

“Just saying,” Coming out a bit more strained given their position. “Glad your joints still work.” In reality, Krauser wasn’t that old. Early thirties give or take. But Leon could never resist goading him on. Getting into the swing of their back and forth.

But Krauser didn’t move. Arms still stiff and holding him there. Laboured panting.

“You talk too much,” The words coming out rough. “How about we use that mouth for something else, huh?”

And if Leon wasn’t getting hard before, he certainly was then.

Before Leon knew it they were kissing. Lips parting for Krauser’s, feeling the hot breath against his face. Essentially crushed under the man, but Leon didn’t care. Whatever was happening, he needed it.

Like it was instinct, Leon’s hands moved before he had even registered, aiding his Major in fishing his cock out. Fumbling with desperation and anticipation.

Krauser got to his feet, urging for Leon to kneel before him - which he happily did - opening his mouth, tongue flattened over his teeth, awaiting Krauser. Not thinking twice.

“Such a pretty little thing,” Hand around the base as he slapped his tip against Leon’s tongue, smacking it into a pool of spit. Then it slipped in, heavy and salty in his mouth. Noting the shudder that went through Krauser at that, head bowing forward, causing loose strands of hair to fall into his face. “Fuck, rookie, always knew you wanted it.”

Hand spayed out, teetering upon the nape of Leon’s neck, holding him there, coaxing his way into Leon’s throat.

“Much better like this,” He huffed, voice straining a little. “Always talk too fucking much don’t you?”

Leon just hummed, mouth still wrapped around the man’s cock.

“Even now you’re still a noisy bitch - ah fuck.” Finally bottoming out. Holding Leon firm against him, nose burrowed into his pubic hair. Growing use to the sensation, throat full, controlled breathing, inhaling the scent.

“That’s good, just like that.” The hand on the back of Leon’s head turning to a gentle caress.

And that was when Krauser began to move. Gradually at first. Pulling out just enough before sliding back, revelling in the way the throat constricted him each time. A couple small groans falling from his lips.

The situation in Leon’s pants was dire. Imprint of his needy cock more than visible.

Bringing his own hand down, Leon rubbed himself through the fabric, not having the brain power to get it out properly. Jesus though it still felt good, moaning around the cock in his mouth as he did so.

“Fuck, always knew you’d be a slut Kennedy. Take cock so well.” Hips snapping just that little bit harder.

Leon continued to rub himself, all the while still drooling which only aided his Major’s movements further.

It was obvious Krauser was struggling to hold back, huffing and panting above, hips growing more frantic, spluttering into him.

“Such a good fucking boy aren’t you?” Spoken between shallow breaths. Leon’s hand still relentlessly feeling himself, groping as much as he could. “That’s it Kennedy, touch yourself for me.” Brows pinching together, doubling forward slightly. Fist tightening in Leon’s hair.

“Ah fuck- gonna cum rookie,” Cock sliding in and out with ease. “Here it comes, oh fuck-”

Just like that he was spurting hard down Leon’s throat. Mouth still stuffed full as he swallowed. Held there like a device for Krauser to fuck in to. Hearing the way the man sighed in pleasure, followed by the occasional grunt. Jesus, it shouldn’t have been so hot.

It was what tipped Leon over, cumming stupidly into his underwear. Leaning into the man above for support. Cries stifled by the softening cock still held in his mouth. Orgasm washing over him, not caring about the sticky mess he was creating.

Eventually Krauser pulled out, thoroughly coated in saliva. Leon’s eyes glassy and brain foggy, not quite noticing the dribbles escaping the corner of his mouth. Little to no thoughts in his head.

“Knew that’d shut you up.” Krauser eventually said, stuffing himself back into the confinement of his pants and fixing his hair.

But it had Leon thinking that maybe he should mouth off more often.

For this asks game!

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

AITA for the way I broke up with Charley?

All of this happened over the course of one week. TL;DR at the bottom.

I (23 NB) met Charley (23 M, fake name) on my college campus. We flirted over Skype and met up in person a few days later. I was a little thrown off by being perceived by someone who had very cavity-cutesy flirty feelings for me. He acted the same over Skype and in person, but seeing him in person sort of made me feel some kind of way. We hugged and said hi, and he told me his medical history over a cup of coffee and a breakfast sandwich. I was sensing...dread.

By the time we left the coffee shop, we found a conversation I could contribute to, and we walked up to my dorm. I want to emphasize that Charley was completely harmless, but he was also awkward with conversation. I'd been feeling more and more squicked out all evening with each flirty (sometimes clumsy) word ("your shampoo smells nice", "I couldn't get a good look at you before, but now I can ogle you better") or touch of affection like when he pressed his chest to my back in a hug and nestled his chin in my neck to look at a picture on my phone I pulled up to show him. As the date progressed, I'd thrown down four hints or so about going to bed and how it was getting late, and Charley either picked up on the fourth hint or just agreed that it really was late.

I walked him out of the dorm building and said goodbye before retreating inside to my computer, where I discovered the word "lithromantic". "Lithromantic" is a subset of the aromantic orientation umbrella. More or less, if you're lithromantic, you have the ability to have romantic feelings for someone, but you don't really need and/or want your feelings returned (since your romantic feelings would either disappear or turn into disgust as a result). I mentally reviewed the date and Skype chats and discovered that my romantic feelings turn into pure disgust when they are returned.

I had to get out of whatever it was I was in. It was one date and a few days of Skype flirting, but I felt compounded under layers of disgust (I only shared probably 5% of what happened on the date) and some guilt since all Charley had done was be socially awkward and affectionate. When I saw him on campus, I began twisting my way past him to dodge a hug or tell him I was busy when he mentioned going to see a movie together. I would put off responding to him over text because I just...really didn't want to respond to cutesy flirting. Reading those texts felt like taking a taffy bomb to the teeth and then being injected with 10,000 mL of pure uncut apathy.

The next weekend came around, and I knew I couldn't have Charley talking to me anymore, so I bit the bullet and texted him a break up text: "Hi, I'm really sorry, but I don't think that we're romantically or platonically compatible. I hope that you have a nice life." It really was that short and compact. He replied, shocked and upset (understandably so), and said something along the lines of: "Fine, have a nice life." I breathed a sigh of relief and didn't message him again. I saw him once or twice in the next few months (since we're on the same campus), and we just shared a wave or a brief "hi, cold weather, eh?" and that was it.

TL;DR: After perhaps three days of Skype flirting and one soul-crushingly awkward date with Charley, I discovered that I was lithromantic (my feelings for someone turn into disgust if they show romantic interest in me). I distanced myself from Charley for a couple more days before texting him, saying, "I'm sorry, but I don't think that we are romantically or platonically compatible. I hope you have a nice life" to get him out of my life. AITA for the way I broke up with Charley?

What are these acronyms?

[bi-bard]

They Tell Each Other Who to Look After and Who to Watch Out For - Kaz Brekker Imagine [Shadow & Bone]

Title: They Tell Each Other Who to Look After and Who to Watch Out For

Pairing: Kaz Brekker X Reader

Word Count: 1,916 words

Warning(s): abduction, vague threats of violence, actual violence

Summary: After using their power to save the life of their best friend, (Y/n)'s time of running and hiding comes to an abrupt end. Now, they find themselves in a new reality where they can either survive or risk losing everything.

Author's Note: This is the second time in the last like month that I have accidentally started something that turned into an OC. It happened twice.

Also, I thought the pattern of using a line of dialogue as a title was clever, but I fear that I'm going to regret it later.

MORE OF THIS OC HERE!

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

There was a time when Inej tried to claim that everything that happened to me was her fault. That it all boiled down to one action on one night that she thought was her fault.

She was wrong.

I would say that it was mine, but that also was wrong.

If it all could be traced to one person, then it would be traced back to the man that had tried to attack her.

I reacted out of instinct. I saw Inej get grabbed and my brain focused purely on helping her.

When I had saved Kaz, I was in an enclosed space. But in that situation, it was different.

It all happened before I could truly think about it. She had shoved this man back and as soon as there was enough space, I hit him.

As he fell back, I didn't even think about the arguably small burst of light that had come out of it. Or the chance that I had been spotted by anyone.

"Inej," I said, running over to her. "Are you alright?"

She took a moment to breathe.

"Inej-"

She stopped me by yanking me forward, wrapping her arms around me tightly. I let out a sigh of relief before hugging her back. A small grin formed on my face and my eyes closed for a moment. I was just happy that she was okay.

"Kaz would kill me if he saw that," I muttered as I stepped back.

"I'd like to see him try," she replied.

I laughed quietly, shaking my head. "Come on. We've got a job to do."

She nodded.

We went along with our night without much thought about what had happened.

I believed that I was safe. Or as safe as I could be considering the circumstances of my life.

I was constantly on high alert.

It was a natural part of living in the Barrel. Especially with the reality of who I worked with. Kaz Brekker could make a lot of people angry.

That day was no different than any other.

I was walking down the street, dodging people as best I could. The streets of Ketterdam were rarely not busy. People were usually going to work, just trying to keep their heads above water and maintain whatever vice they had.

It didn't take long for me to notice the men following me. Their eyes were too focused to merely be going the same way as me.

I didn't let them know that I was aware of them. Instead, I took turns that I usually wouldn't. I cut through alleys and took shortcuts that I saw no purpose for. My hope was to lose them by either going fast enough or just by forcing them to get confused.

I didn't get the chance to watch them run like mice in a maze.

One of them grabbed my arms after I had turned down one of the alleys. I yelled, immediately attempting to yank my arms away. I kicked the other man in the chest, causing him to stumble back.

The first man kept my hands apart, but I still struggled.

I pulled and kicked and moved as much as I could in the hopes of getting out of there.

When my attempts to escape went unsuccessful and seemingly unnoticed, I did the first thing that I could think of.

"Kaz!"

I was shoved to the ground as soon as the name left my mouth.

I don't remember anything after that.

My next vivid memory was waking up in some bed somewhere. I shoved myself up immediately, trying to get a hold of my surroundings.

I was sitting on top of the covers of a bed. Easily the comfiest bed I had ever been on. The bed was pushed against the middle of the wall that was furthest from the door. The rest of the room was full of intricate details and littered with pieces of furniture. Clearly, this was meant to be a place of luxury. One that I had never deserved and never wanted.

The room was mostly white. White walls, white bedding, white curtains for the windows, white doors. There were only a few exceptions. The floor was made of wood and laid in an intricate design. Details on furniture, the edge of the mirror, the frames of the chairs, and even the partition meant to give me some semblance of privacy were gold. Splashes of beige were thrown around too. Probably meant to make the room less like a cell than I knew it was.

As I sat in silence, trying to put together my fractured memory and devise a way out of there, I found my mind drifting.

Mainly to Kaz's office.

I had found more comfort in that office than I would probably find anywhere else. I thought back to that first night that showed him my power. And every night that I had been there after that. Moments where I would stand just in front of him, never allowing ourselves to touch. There was this silent longing. Yearning that would feel suffocating as I watched his eyes shift and move.

I would give anything to feel that familiar suffocating feeling again.

I took a deep breath. He would find me. Him and Inej and Jesper. They would find me. They would protect me. I trusted them to do that.

But I could always spare them some of the trip.

I shoved myself out of the bed, pulling on the heavy boots that I had invested in. Jesper made fun of me when he first saw them, but I defended them fiercely. They had lasted me longer than many of his hats had lasted him.

I was about to storm out of the room when the doors opened. I stumbled back a bit when a man walked in.

I composed myself quickly, straightening my spine and planting my feet.

"You're awake," he said. "Good. I hope the room was to your liking."

"Would have enjoyed it more without the kidnapping part," I replied.

He let out an amused huff through his nose. "Necessary steps had to be taken. We were under the impression that you wouldn't come willingly."

I let my eyes scan him. "Who are you?"

"General Kirigan," he held out his hand for me to shake.

Oh. I had heard stories about General Kirigan. I believe that most people had. I had never seen him before. I... I tried to not picture him. He terrified me. I knew that he had been the biggest threat to any freedom I had.

And now he wanted me to shake his hand.

I looked down at it.

"Maybe later," he mumbled, pulling his hand away from me. I looked back at his face.

"Where am I," I asked.

"The Little Palace. Safest place in all of Ravka."

I had to hold back my scoff.

"You'll be safe here-"

"I want to go home," I said bluntly.

"We both why I cannot let you do that," he replied. "You have a responsibility. We have a responsibility to all of Ravka."

"I have no interest in being a hero or a saint."

"You forfeited that decision with your little show in Ketterdam."

I took a deep breath.

"Everyone knows who and what you are now."

"I've had a target on my back my whole life. This is no different."

"It very much is-"

"I am not asking for permission. I am giving you the courtesy of telling you that I'm leaving instead of jumping from the window."

"I wouldn't do that," he advised. "It's a long way down."

Again, I had to bite my tongue.

"The two of us have a chance to do something great. To free everyone. I am begging you to see the good that this could do for everyone."

He stepped closer to me as he spoke. He wanted to convince me so much.

But I had spent far too long hiding and running to sacrifice myself now. I had been taught to run away from exactly this. My parents would cry for me from wherever they ended up. They sacrificed their lives for me to never end up in this situation. To keep me safe. I couldn't let them down like that.

So, I didn't: "I am going home."

"You can," Kirigan said. "After the Fold is down."

"No," I shook my head. "You cannot force me to be some... symbol for your cause."

"I see," he looked down for a moment.

"I am going home," I repeated. He nodded.

I went to walk around him, ready to leave. He watched me the entire time.

I only made it a few steps past him when he spoke up. "So, back to Ketterdam."

I turned to look at him again. I raise an eyebrow at him.

"That's where you want to go, correct," he asked.

"Yes."

"Back to that little family you found," he continued, a smirk tugging at his lips. "Inej, Jesper, and... Kaz. Right?"

I knew what he was trying to do. A small way to show me that he knew about more than merely my existence and where I had been.

I didn't respond because I didn't want to give him the satisfaction of watching me react.

In reality, I wanted to scream at him. Ask why he knew so much about me. Ask how long he had been keeping an eye on me. Ask if he knew while I was in my early days in Ketterdam and he let me form connections so he would have something to hold over my head. I hated that he probably knew more about me than anyone else in my life. Maybe even myself. But I would never let him see that anger and fear. I refused.

"It wouldn't be safe," Kirigan walked closer to me as he spoke again. "For them. You're the sun summoner. And you've been found. You can't hide anymore. From anyone."

I took a deep breath, my jaw clenching. I took note of how his tone darkened on those last two words.

"How long do you think you can protect them on your own," he asked. "That little band of misfits that you've got?"

That was enough for me.

"Let me make something perfectly clear," I snapped as I stepped forward. "If anything happens to any of them and you had anything to do with it, then you will not have the opportunity to use an ounce of my power. Is that understood?"

Kirigan's slight smirk didn't falter, but he did raise an eyebrow at me. "Understood."

I didn't stand down. I was going to make him step away. He took a sharp breath before looking away from me and taking a few steps back.

"You should spend the evening getting settled," he said. "You begin training tomorrow."

He nodded to me as a false sign of respect before stepping around me and leaving the room. It took every ounce of self-control to not try to kill him.

He knew that I couldn't leave. He knew very well that I wouldn't threaten their lives like that. I exposed my secret to keep one of them safe. Leaving now would be selfish.

Fine.

I would stay, I would train, and I would do what I had to to survive and keep the ones that I care for alive.

But no one said that I couldn't make the general's life hell while I was here.

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

Navigation Guide

What I Write For

Some Original Characters

[superstar-nan]

Fight Tooth and Nail

Day 4

Summary: You and Michael go home and make up, but unfortunately don't make out.

Words: 3,894

Fun stuff: Toxic relationships, mentions of dead children, vague allusions to familial abuse, descriptions of corpses. Michael tries for reader, but old willy has their heart even if it's out of hate :> poor michael…

First ♡ Prev ♡ Next

───── (\ /) ─────

It was strange how quickly you could fall into routine. In the last few hours of the night, you rotely rebooted the haunted attractions systems with such bland ease that you almost considered playing music in one of your earbuds. You didn’t for a number of reasons—you wanted to stay alert, your mind was too overstimulated from your newfound discoveries, and you knew it would upset Michael more than you already had that night—so your strange mix of restlessness and boredom remained.

Michael stayed silent, but occasionally glanced back at you. You assumed it was to ensure you wouldn’t sneak off and get killed by Springtrap, and honestly it was justifiable. Even as you sat there having barely escaped death twice that night, you were itching to search the attraction for any secret wall entrances or trapdoors.

After the fight you had with Michael, you’d be willing to wait one more night for any more adventure. You only had two or so hours left anyway, which might not be enough time to thoroughly search the floors and walls while dodging Springtrap. You told yourself that anytime you felt the sense of urgency to find your best friend, hungry and dehydrated and alone.

So, you were well behaved. You didn’t even look at the cameras for Springtrap, no matter how much you wanted to. If Michael was pleased by your good behavior, he didn’t show it. The two of you sat in comfortable silence for the rest of his shift. Even after his alarm went off, you just stretched, cracking your back and shoulders while wincing from the bite mark on your neck.

Michael handed you his jacket, and you raised an eyebrow at him.

“To hide the marks.” He clarified.

You looked at his arms, withered and decayed like some kind of horror movie prop. You didn’t want to upset him, so you said, “I could just say we’re really kinky?”

You could see the warm byzantium even from beyond his black face mask, “Just put the damn jacket on.”

You put it on and zipped it up to your neck. When the dayshift guard came, you hugged Michael’s arm to keep it hidden from sight while Michael angled his other arm away from the guard. It hardly mattered, the dayshift guard seemed more interested in the new markings on the window, which you played dumb to since Michael was as silent as the grave. You dutifully performed the role of Michael’s partner as you hurried out the door before the dayshift guard noticed anything in the dim lighting. The guard had to believe Michael had some kind of skin condition or something...

Michael drove again, citing your bite as reason for him to drive, but at this point you think he just preferred driving. It wasn’t that important to you. You liked leaning your head on the window and looking outside while you let your thoughts run, organizing what questions you wanted to ask first. There were heavy and dark clouds in the sky. Though they looked weighted, you didn’t think it would rain just yet.

When Michael pulled up to his place, he opened his car door and said while stepping out, “I’m surprised you haven’t bombarded me with questions yet.”

You followed him in suit, “I want to.” You said, honestly. You opened your mouth to start-

“Whatever’s holding you back, keep listening to it.”

You closed your mouth. What an asshole.

He stepped through the doorway and threw his keys and backpack on the table, stretching his arms until they made a decidedly unnatural popping noise. He groaned as he rolled his shoulders before heading straight to the pantry. You hopped up on the table, crossing your legs. Maybe if you were patient enough, he would hear you out just to get you out of his peripheral.

He pulled popcorn out of the pantry and put it in the microwave. After pushing a few buttons, he glanced at you and scoffed in a way that sounded half laughing and half mocking. There was another rare smile from him—if you could call it that, maybe a smirk would be more appropriate. You weren’t charmed by this one, just annoyed. “Am I ever going to see you sit on a chair?”

Huh. You didn’t realize you never sat on chairs around him. “If you’re lucky,” You said.

Michael rolled his eyes, and it was a wonder to behold given how undead he was. He leaned against the counter with his arms crossed. He was staring at your neck. “You should bandage that now.”

Your fingers grazed the bitemarks. It didn’t throb as much as it did before, but it still stung ever so lightly. You didn’t want to bandage it up, but you didn’t have an excuse anymore. You swallowed as you nodded, “Yeah. I should.” You took Michael’s backpack that was behind you and started shuffling for the bandages.

Michael took a few steps closer to you, “Let me.”

You waved him off dismissively, “I’ve got it.”

Regret pitted at the bottom of your stomach the moment you caught Michael’s expression. For the briefest of moments, he looked wounded; a vulnerable insecurity revealed raw. He masked indifference just as quickly. That didn’t stop your anxiety from jumping to your worst fear: he thought you were disgusted by him earlier and didn’t want to touch him again.

“Actually,” You feigned nonchalance. “You don’t have a hand mirror, and it’s hard just using my phone. Can you do it?”

Michael didn’t respond, just exhaling through shredded, worn lips. He stepped closer to you and took the bandages, however. You had no idea whether you relieved any of his pain.

You took his large jacket—which you were still wearing, you now noticed—and let it pool at your elbows. He began measuring out where to bandage you, and he was close. You could see the details of his abrazed skin this close; peeking at his white teeth and blackened gums through the abrasions in his cheeks, realizing his dark brown furrowed brow must have been artificial like his hair, and watching his concentrating hollow eyes encased in shadow darker than the midnight sky. Like Springtrap, you found Michael more alluring with his death than without.

Michael tugged lightly on your sleeve. You realized he was trying to bandage you without touching you. Your heart felt heavy. “Should I take it off?” You asked.

Michael didn’t answer you right away, “I can work around it.”

“That seems harder than it needs to be,” You said bluntly. “I could... use the jacket? If you’re uncomfortable.”

“Uncomfortable isn’t-” Suddenly, the microwave timer went off, interrupting Michael with loud, annoying beeping—ones that oddly reminded you of red-flashing-blaring. You saw the corpse set his jaw through his abraded cheeks, and what wouldn’t you give to know what he was thinking. “Do whatever you want.”

You took off your shirt slowly—to keep from irritating the bite wounds too much, and you still ended up wincing—while Michael busied himself with the bandages. You zipped up the jacket to where it covered your lower chest, leaving the sleeves hanging off your shoulders so he would have full access to the wound.

Michael looked back at you. His void eyes widened and they scrolled your body, trailing from your eyes, down your neck, across your chest, and then settling on your bare shoulders and collar. Your brow furrowed. Was the wound worse than you thought? But that didn’t explain the warm byzantium shade sporting across his neck and ears. Was he really flushed? Or was that just the dingy lighting...? He swallowed, and it was thick enough for you to see it.

Your brow twinged lightly in concern, “What’s wrong?”

Michael’s eyes lowered as he bit his tattered lip. “Nothing’s wrong.”

Maybe it really did look worse than you originally thought, and you were too blinded by your hate-passion to realize it.

Cold fingers touched your shoulder and you shivered, a small and quiet gasp passing your lips. That surprised you... and that stung. It seemed he was done avoiding touch, and you were glad for it despite your visceral shudder. He was methodical and slow while bandaging you, each gentle wrap being accentuated by decayed fingers sliding between bandage and skin. It was a steady and deliberate gesture; he ignored your every hiss of pain as he glazed over fresh cuts and your every soft sigh of relief when he left them.

You couldn't place it—he was helping you, his hands were gentle (though firm), and he hadn't said anything—and yet, you felt like his ministrations were driven by agitation. You couldn't puzzle out over what, though. Was it because of you touching him earlier? Was it your fight? Was it something else entirely? You truly had no idea, and Michael was the furthest thing from an open book to spell it out for you.

When Michael was just about finished, you decided to speak, "...I'm lucky I met you." You said, softly.

Michael stopped. You hoped he realized that you were referring to your outburst earlier, because you already felt too vulnerable being the first to admit being wrong.

"The rest of this... I'm not so lucky, but meeting you?" You sighed, and it was heavy with the weight of everything you've had to bear these past three nights. "I'm glad we met."

You met Michael's eyes. He was staring so deeply into yours, it was hard not to get lost in his stare. An endless, bottomless, void-like gaze... You saw the slight furrow in his brow and the way his void eyes shook with uncertainty, and you knew he was battling with something. Michael returned to bandaging you, and though physically it was the same, somehow it felt gentler.

"You're not... completely inept."

Wow. That's how he apologizes in return. You said something super sweet, and he says you're not completely inept. God, he needed to be wacked in the head... Though, to be fair, you didn't exactly apologize either.

"No, I'm not," You agreed nonchalantly as Michael was finishing up the last of your bandages. He tucked the end of the bandage underneath his dressing, and you pretended like you didn’t wince. "Some might even say I saved us last night. You're welcome, by the way." You mimicked his gravelly voice.

Michael's mood soured, and not in the usual-fun-grumpy way, "Yeah. You saved us with your bizarre psycho-sexual relationship with my serial killer dad. Thanks for that."

Psycho-sexual. Your face grew warm with a deep blush, and void eyes hardened when he saw it. You scowled, pulling away from him abruptly and coming down from the table, "What are you talking about?" 

"You’re gonna play dumb?” Michael crossed his arms and shrugged, “Fine.”

“I’m not-!” You exhaled sharply while running a hand over your scalp. You didn’t want to fight again. You just made up, “I just don’t know what you’re referring to.”

Michael raised his eyebrows, unimpressed, “My dad drew a heart in the glass.”

“We already knew he was psychotic,” You growled.

“You used a box cutter to try and... break it? What were you doing?”

"He was mocking me!" You snapped your head toward Michael, "I was mad!"

"Were you mad when you stared into his eyes and sighed like a lovesick schoolkid?" Michael’s voice sharpened with a harsh venom by the end of his sentence.

You remembered exactly how you felt coming down from your hatred, Springtrap just beyond the glass, and imagining the torture he went through. God, you felt mad and sick at that, but you also knew Michael wasn't wrong. It felt nauseatingly good to be wanted so intensely, and you hated that about yourself, "I- I wasn’t-” What could you even say?

“You’re blushing.” Michael’s gaze was as sharp and cold as his voice.

You felt your face with your palm. You were so warm. That wasn’t good. You leaned against the table, rubbing your temples, “I think I’m going to be sick.”

"How do you think I felt? You don’t-” Michael cut himself off and you could hear the anger he was trying to quell. You couldn’t begin to wrap your head around what Michael must be thinking... and you didn’t know if you even wanted to. “You don’t actually think you lov-?”

“No!” You had to snip that train of thought in the bud right away, “No. And don’t even say it, or I will strangle you until death decides to take you after all.” Thank god you meant that honestly. You knew you were losing your mind, but at least your head was screwed on enough to not fall in love with Springtrap.

Michael blew out air between his teeth. He rubbed his void eyes as he held the countertop with the same exhaustion you held the table with. Despite how tired he looked, his shoulders relaxed slightly and the tension left his fists. “Alright. What is it, then?”

You raised your hand and dropped it in weak exasperation, “Does it matter?”

“It matters,” He said, and of course it mattered. It was why you are still alive.

You exhaled and rubbed your temples, "Look, Michael. I'm not... super well... psychologically, right now."

"Who would've guessed?"

You threw the bandages at him, which he dodged, but you continued, "I don't know where my best friend is, if- if they're even alive, every night might be their or my last, I've been hit in the head a few times, I've hardly gotten any sleep, I just found out ghosts are real-!"

"Okay," Michael cut you off. "I get it."

You sighed, shaky and soft, "I'm... not myself. I know I might do or say something weird that I-... Just know I hate Springtrap. I truly hate him.” Who knew hate could be so passionate? “I want to kill him. Whether we find my friend or not, that’s my goal. I’m assuming that’s what you want, too.”

Michael didn’t say anything as he mulled over your words.

“That’s what you want, right?” Why else would he keep going back there? To play hide-and-seek with his psychotic dad all night long?

Michael folded his arms, leaning back against the countertop, “... I’ve been thinking about why the Spring Bonnie animatronic acted the way that it did.”

“That couldn’t have been less natural.” You said, annoyed.

“Do you want to know my thoughts on Spring Bonnie or not?”

Damn... You sighed, “Alright, what do you think its deal is?”

Michael scratched the back of his neck, “It’s been a while—those spring lock suits were old even in the 80’s—but I think there’s some sort of protocol for returning customers. Something in their code that has them give special treatment or priority to people who regularly showed up to Fredbear’s—er, the diner they’re from.”

You nodded, slowly, “I thought it might be something like that... That’s pretty advanced for the 80’s. That’s pretty advanced for now.” 

Michael half-laughed, half-scoffed as he pulled the popcorn from the microwave. It had to have been cold by now. He didn’t seem to care, pouring the cold popcorn into a large bowl. “You should have seen them yourself,” He said, and his voice was almost wistful. “It was... it was like they were real, sometimes...”

You perked up at the promise of Michael-lore. “I’ve seen some videos...” You said, keeping your voice casual. 

He shook his head and you followed him out of the kitchen and into his living room, “It’s not the same.”

“Tell me about it.” You sat down next to him on his couch, fully facing him.

Michael took one glance at you, before scowling and throwing popcorn in his mouth. “Don’t look at me like that,” He said with a full mouth. You forced yourself not to cringe as you saw popcorn and butter chew to a pulp from beyond his abraded cheeks.

“Like what?”

Michael threw more popcorn in his mouth, before pointing at you accusingly, “With stars in your eyes and excitement written all over your face. You look at me like that whenever my past gets brought up.”

“I’m curious!” You said, offended. “Even if you weren’t-” Michael gave you a hard look, and you wisely decided against bringing up the fact that he was dead, “-a security guard, I’d still want to know about your past.”

Michael exhaled, exaggeratedly and annoyed, before using his remote to turn on the TV. Whatever was playing was arbitrary and unimportant, so you ignored it regardless of Michael’s eyes glued to the screen.

“Come on,” You leaned your head against the couch as you faced him, a playful smile breaching your lips. “Staying mysterious can’t be that important.”

Michael turned up the volume of the TV.

“I’d love to know where you learned your shitty manners.” You said, blandly.

“Maybe I don’t want to talk about my past because it sucked. Terribly.” He looked at you pointedly, “Because growing up with a psychopath for a father tends to ruin your childhood. Ever thought about that?”

You bit your tongue. You knew Michael wanted to stun you into dropping the topic; which he did, but not in the way he intended. The thing was, you had thought about that. You were curious about Michael, that wasn’t a lie, but the weaker part of you wanted to know exactly how William treated his son. You wanted to know just how far he took his abuse. You wanted to know every evil word or every raised hand, all to add more coal to the fire that was your hatred. You could chalk it up to morbid curiosity, but you knew yourself better than that.

Guilt washed over you in a wave. You shouldn’t want that, you shouldn’t want to know that. So you decided not to ask anymore, for your own sanity. The less you learned about William—about Springtrap, the better. You turned to the TV, your eyes glazed over. The screen could have been static, and you wouldn’t have noticed.

Michael must’ve seen your face and believed you felt guilty for a much more altruistic reason (and you would never tell him otherwise), because he sighed, seemingly exasperated, and said, “I spent a lot of time at Fredbear’s growing up. It was basically my second home.”

Michael was a goddamn jezebel. You just rallied the strength to not pry into his (and, by proxy, his father’s) past, and he was going to offer it to you on a silver platter? You couldn’t stop yourself from turning to fully face him, pulling your legs underneath you and nodding at him to continue.

Michael tried to hide his blush with a scowl at your attention, “My mum... wasn’t in the picture.” You wouldn’t have been surprised if William killed her. Or if she just left him; you don’t imagine child killers make good husbands.What was more surprising was that he managed to get a kid or three out of her before she left or died. “And... My dad worked at Fredbear’s, so I spent every day after school there. Even when I got old enough to take care of Elizabeth and-” He stopped, dropping his gaze. “-my sister and my brother, I still hung around Fredbear’s. That’s where all my friends were, and-...”

Michael looked away from you, his shoulders oddly stiff and somber. He ran his fingers through his hair and his hands were shaking.

“I stopped hanging around Fredbear’s just a few years before my dad killed all those kids.” His voice quieted. You wanted to know why he avoided Fredbear’s if it wasn’t because of the murders, but the melancholy in his voice stopped you from asking.

“...But you ended up working at a few Freddy’s places later?” You asked.

“It was complicated.” He said.

You hummed in thought. He wasn’t telling you everything, but you didn’t mind it. “Was it fun? Being at Fredbear’s all the time?”

“Sometimes. It was what every kid dreamed. It was fun and loud...” He said, and you pictured Spring Bonnie from the picture: pretty and bright and wonderful. “What almost every kid dreamed. Sometimes... It was a lot. Sometimes you just wanted to get away from the bright lights and the loud noises.”

“Sounds overwhelming.”

“Sometimes...” Michael trailed off.

“What were your siblings like?”

Michael brought his void eyes up to meet yours, and you worried you overstepped. Then, his gaze settled on your lap, distant and somber, “Childish. Both of them, in different ways. My sister was a bit spoiled, but well meaning. She cared so much about stupid stuff. My brother... he was soft-hearted. He cried about everything. He hated Fredbear’s.”

Though Michael hardly said a kind word about either of his siblings, the tenderness in his voice spoke volumes. “...Are they-?”

You didn’t even have to ask the question, “They’re dead.” Michael said, and his voice hardened with the cold words. “Both gone before they even got to grow up.”

“Oh,” You lowered your eyes. You had wondered as much, seeing the little boy and girl both disappear from Michael's pictures, but it was more somber hearing it from him. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine,” He said, though you didn’t believe it was actually fine. “It’s been a long time.”

Michael’s hand was next to your legs. You gently placed your hand over his hand and rubbed your thumb along his skin. Michael was frozen for a second, before he turned his hand over and held yours.

After a comfortable space of silence, Michael spoke, “What about your family?”

“What about them?” You asked.

“Tell me about them.”

You felt strange talking about your family, especially since it seemed like bragging since—no matter your family situation, it was still better than a child-murdering father. But, it was only fair since you pestered him about his past, so you told him about yours. You told him about your childhood, your family, the things you liked and the things that were hard. You told him how you met your best friend and how you came to be friends. Your voice started to waver as you talked about them, so you stopped. Michael still held onto your hand, even as you shoved cold popcorn into your mouth to keep yourself from crying.

“I’m starving. I wish you had real food,” You said, choking on popcorn.

"...I'm sorry," He said. You knew he wasn't talking about the popcorn, but you made yourself believe he was so you wouldn't have to think about your own grief.

You leaned your head on Michael's shoulder, watching the TV. You honestly had no idea what was happening on the screen; you weren't paying attention and you doubted Michael had either. It didn't matter, though. It was something to focus on that wasn't important.

So you watched melodramatic vampires and theatrical reactions like you didn't have to go back to Fazbear's Fright tomorrow. You sank into the couch like you wouldn't have a new injury the next time you returned here—if you returned at all. You leaned into Michael like you weren't hatefully enraptured with his father, dreading Springtrap as much as you craved to face him. You relaxed like you weren't losing your mind, craving wicked things that took your closest friend from you.

You fell asleep like you had no worries at all.

[deathmetalunicorn1]

Okay, okay, okay... Hear me out-

Yandere Hades, Poseidon, Thor, Beelzebub, Lucifer, (and any opposing deity opponent you can add) vs a horror protagonist (y/n).

A horror protagonist (y/n) that goes to any universe that deals with the cryptic, supernatural and horror, and this (y/n) is very smart and quick with how much experience and time they have experienced being in different horror genre (like the backrooms, slasher, cult, zombie, or end of the world, etc...) universes.

May (y/n) can nonchalantly (with dead fish eyes) say that they've dealt with deities and the supernatural and are successful with the termination, if it means to keep humanity intact then (y/n) will do whatever it takes to take their opponent down.

Thank you for listening, and take your time. 🙇‍♀️🙇‍♂️🙇‍♀️🙇‍♂️

-Having lived through countless scenarios that many would describe as something from a horror movie would sound rough.

-For you, it was any other day.

-You’ve survived against countless slashers, monster, evil spirts, summoned evil deities, at least 2 zombie viruses, faced the end of the world at least six times and you’ve punched the Devil himself in the dick twice.

-You’re pretty sure you could handle a fight against a god.

-When you finally did die, after choking on a chicken wing, you thought Valhalla was the greatest! You got to meet so many famous people, warriors of the past, and you finally thought you could live at least a bit normally.

-You were quickly proven wrong when a Valkyrie, Brunnhilde, asked you to fight for humanity.

-You didn’t have to listen to her whole speech about why you should save humanity, as you had done it multiple times already, what’s the difference between a fight to the death from any other time you had to do it?

-When you walked out, machete on your hip, six knives in your boots, a whip on your opposite hip, two hand guns on your thighs and a sawed off shotgun strapped to your back, you looked ready to kick some ass, but your bored look threw off your opponent.

-He pointed his weapon at you, curious as to why you had such a dead fish eye stare, “Aren’t you concerned about the fate of humanity? Their fate hangs in the balance in this right?”

-You rolled your eyes, popping one hip to the side, “When isn’t humanity’s fate in the balance? Please- between the zombie plagues and world-wide massive disasters I’ve been through, not to mention the primordial deities that threaten to destroy the world every other week, this ain’t anything new for me, sweetie!”

-Hades- He posture relaxed just a bit, “Ahh~ so you’re the one who send back all the demons who escaped from Helheim. I feel that I should thank you for sending them back. The amount of paperwork they cause me is a nightmare itself. However, I am curious what it would take for you to die, since you survived so many nightmares yourself.” You instantly grinned, grabbing your shotgun, “Come and find out then!” the gods were angry at your disrespect to Hades, speaking so casually to him, but Hades wasn’t bothered, in fact he was amused, finding your banter amusing. Your instincts were amazing, able to dodge blows at the last second, hitting him with sudden, surprise blows, the way you moved looked reckless, but the more he fought you, the more he could see this wasn’t the case. You certainly grabbed his attention, and now he wanted to see more, now intent on just incapacitating you in to a draw so he could learn more.

-Poseidon- Your disrespect, calling him sweetie, immediately made his blood boil and he was quick to charge at you, aiming to end this quickly. Your last second dodge made even his own eyes widen before he only just barely blocked your swipe with your machete, sparks flying off the side as the two weapons grinded against each other. You both went back and forth for a while, Poseidon becoming intrigued with your fighting style, when you seemed to be going for defensive you went offensive, and vice versa, so he had no idea when you were actually going to attack! You amused him when you managed to take his weapon but in return he managed to take your shotgun. The two of you paused, realizing what happened before he spoke, “Give me my trident!” you immediately shot back, “Gimme my shotgun back first!” you two went back and forth, as you had been in multiple standoffs like this. Zeus found the exchange hilarious, holding his gut and Poseidon did have to admit your stubbornness was rather impressive, giving you a shade of a grin, he wanted to know what other sides to you there were, right after he got his weapon back.

-Thor- He remembers the day he fought the frost giants, that bloody battle where he defeated them all single-handedly, but he also remembered the aftermath, the amount of destruction left behind, the amount of death. To learn that you were a survivor of so many tragedies made him concerned, hearing about what humanity had been dealing with over the past several years. To eradicate them now, after so much suffering, just seemed cruel to those had survived. He instantly lowered Mjolnir and spoke, his voice carrying, “I forfeit the match! Humanity has dealt with enough! We should do better at protecting them after everything they’ve been through recently!” the uproar was initially loud, furious at him while you stood, arms folded, waiting for the gods to debate as they started listing off everything that had happened and that so many humans had been killed. Many saw it was now unfair to put the state of the Earth on the shoulders who had managed to survive everything. You ended up not fighting Thor, instead shaking his hand, as you were happy to not have to fight, and he asked you out for a drink, wanting to know exactly what all you had survived, curious about your fighting spirit.

-Beelzebub- He was curious about you, wanting to know about what you had survived, anyone who had survived that many near death experiences must be an extraordinary person. He analyzed you as the two of you fought, watching how you easily dodged his blows, used momentum to propel yourself suddenly to the side, showing your fighting instincts, your instincts to survive. Beelzebub wasn’t sure what to make of you, he had been longing for a way to die, forced to live with his curse and with the memories of the friends that he had unknowingly killed. Here you were on the other hand, facing death on the norm, willing to do whatever it takes to survive, willing to laugh in the face of death. He still remembers the news when the Devil said a human had punched him in the dick to defeat him, Beelzebub was pretty sure he broke two ribs from laughing so hard. Seeing your drive, your will to survive, made him want that for himself, he wanted a reason to survive, a reason to live. And you were quickly becoming that reason.

-Lucifer- His eyelid twitched lightly at your answer before he chuckled, “Sassy as ever I see Y/N!” you just beamed at him, your hands on your hips, teasing him with a wink, “Nice to see you too Lucy~” many of the gods were quick to yell at you for your disrespect while Lucifer chuckled lightly, having faced you in the past before, knowing you quite well. Your fight was entertaining, almost like the two of you were playing cat and mouse, throwing out banter between blows, “So what have you been up to since we last fought?” you shrugged, blocking his weapon with your shotgun, “Zombie outbreak, two serial killers, and a creepy clown doll that’s killed at least forty people- oh and California finally had that big earthquake and now it’s an island now! And then of course I died- choking on a chicken wing of all things!” the gods and humans watching could only gawk, hearing what you have gone through, hearing what humanity had gone through, especially so recently! Lucifer chuckled, “It makes our previous fight sound like a cake walk!” the two of you found enjoyment in fighting again, not wanting it to end, and Lucifer wanted to keep you around, you never failed to make him smile.

[the-dumpster-fire-of-life]

LoverMan

Requested?: No/Yes/Sorta in the server

Notes: requested in the server and bc Gustav and soon enough Tom can't be left out. Also ideas for the moments where all come up by @bunnysenpai31 so than her for this

Description: Even though you're gone, Gustav refused to wake up that you were.

I'm Mister LoverMan

"Gustav!"

A young Gustav sat on your guys' bed, only looking up when he heard you announce your presence from the doorway, running through the house to get to him.

"Babe! There you are!" You smiled once you got to the room, your smile bringing a smile to Gudtavs face as he stood off the bed.

It was almost pointless as you almost knocked him back onto the bed.

You threw yourself into his arms, smiling and happy as you pecked his lips as a welcome home gift for yourself.

"You seem happy just going to the mall." Gustav smiled, laughing softly as he hugged you, just noticing a box you held at your side.

"Of course I did. I like spending your money-" you joked, getting an eyebrow raised from Gustav as you backed away, holding the box up.

"But I got you something." You smiled proudly, holding it out for Gustav as he took it hesitantly, looking at you confusedly.

"From Build-A-Bear?" Gustav asked, eyeing the boxing carefully as you rolled your eyes at his question.

"Yes, from Build-A-Bear. Be grateful and open it."

Gustav rolled his eyes playfully, almost getting a fake gasp of offense from you before you laughed once more.

Gustav then opened the bear packaging, and predictably, he pulled out a bear.

"Wow! A bear! You shouldn't have." Gustav said sarcastically to you, holding the bear in his hand as you rolled your eyes.

"Just push the paw!" You ordered, smacking his arm as he laughed, dodging as he nodded his head.

"Fine, fine, fine." Gustav muttered, struggling to find where to push for a moment before he figured it out.

It took a second after Gustav pushed the button, but to his surprise, it soon began talking.

"Gustav, I love you! I know this is corny but I do, so-" your voice came from inside, getting a confused glance up from Gustav as he listened.

As it went on Gustav shook his head softly, smiling at the bear amused as he heard your giggle from inside it.

"Anyways, love you, Gustav!" Gustav heard you give a mwah sound to the speaker just as it cut off, and Gustav still felt the love and admiration the bear held.

Gustav looked up, an eyebrow raised as he saw you smiling at him, almost laughing at his expression as your eyes held hope he would like it.

"In the bear? Really? You could just tell me." Gustav chuckled, but still held the bear close to him as he teases.

"Oh, come on!" You scoffed, laughing as you hugged him around his waist, looking up at him as you saw the silence he fought to hold on, wrapping a free hand around you.

"He's perfect, no?" You said, kissing his jaw as Gustav sighed to give off an annoyed illusion to tesse even more.

"Whatever you say." Gustav said, kissing the crown of your head as you smiled as he did so.

"Yes, yes, a gift from your perfect lover, my lover man." You giggled, almost nose to nose with Gustav as he held his arms around your waist, mimicking the smile on your face.

"Yeah, yes. He's perfect." Gustav nodded, agreeing with you finally to see the smile on your face bloom.

You then leaned in for another kiss, one Gustav gladly accepted and melted into, holding you with one hand and the bear he would cherish for a lifetime in the other.

And I miss my lover, man…

Gustav still remembered it like nothing happened at all.

"I'm sorry to inform you…but (Name) (Last Name) has died. We're so sorry for your loss, and if you would like-"

Gustav remembered hanging up on them.

Gustav sat on the bed, waiting for the door knob to turn and hear your feet patting against the floor as you came to jump in his arms and ramble on about your day.

Gustav waited, and without even knowing, spraying your perfume once or twice to give the illusion to himself you were close by.

Gustav refused to move even when the band came by, their own tears in their eyes as they grieved their childhood best friend.

Gustav did not.

Gustav waited as they left for months after that. Gustav stayed awake at night, your things never moving from where you left them.

Gustav slipped into a bubble, ignoring everything. He ignored headlines. Interviewers' questions. Articles. Tabloids.

He only paid attention to your name, your voice in his head and the scent you left behind that was slowly fading away.

Gustav refused to let it, going over everything and anything about you he could remember.

It was like he was just existing for the purpose of staying by if you ever came back.

You never did.

You never walked back through that door and hugged him.

But Gustav hoped, and held the teddy bear you gave him before you left, dear to him. A ritual of playing it even when the battery slowly was fading away.

Months could go by, so could years, but Gustav still sat like the young nineteen year old kid he was, waiting for you to come back.

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

"What's this?" Tom asked, curious as he picked out a familiar, medium sized teddy bear from Gustavs open backpack on the ground.

"Gustav? Why do you have a teddy bear?" Tom asked, chuckling a bit as he looked at his band mates amused.

"And a Build-A-Bear one at that." Georg chuckled along, meaning no harm but wanting light to the sorta dim time in their lives.

Gustav looked up at their words, face as if they hadn't almost insulted the one thing keeping him alive right then and there.

Gustav looked at what they're holding, and without skipping a beat he answered like nothing.

"Oh, (Name) got it for me but she's busy right now." Gustav said like honey as it just rolled off his tongue, like nothing at all.

Gustav noticed the looks Tom, Bill and Georg shared, and decided to pay it no mind until Bill opened his mouth.

"Um- Gustav…" Bill started, Gustav looked up with a curious look, holding still his drum sticks as he looked at their lead singer.

"(Names)...you know they're gone..right?" Bill struggled to get his words out, almost shocked at his friend's nonchalance and denial of his childhood friend and lovers absence.

Gustav said nothing. His face blank, eyes looking to Bill, then Tom, then Georg as he saw the concerned and sad looks on their faces.

Gustav hated those faces.

They gave those faces to someone in grief.

Gustav was not in grief.

Gustav was waiting for you to walk in the door. Gustav was waiting for you.

Someone grieving doesn't wait. Someone grieving cries. Someone grieving accepts it.

Gustav did none.

Gustav could only stare at the bear held in his friend's hand, wanting nothing more than to push the paw and hear your voice and melt away.

Because for years after that he would preserve the bear like nothing was wrong, he would push the button while sitting in bed.

He would stare at the door and wait for you to walk in so he could remember the ritual of you coming to you, wrapping your arms around his neck as he held you.

Forever he would deny that you were gone. Because he held your voice in the form of a gift you left him, a small parting gift he took as a see you later one.

Gustav would forever go alongside his life dreaming of your smile and giggle in his sleep, feeling you beside him in bed only to wake and find you gone.

Because Gustav couldn't let you go.

So even if he knew it wasn't healthy, Gustav would go on hearing you, seeing you and waiting for you to come back.

Even if it meant waiting until his final breath.

Because he would forever be that nineteen year old waiting for you to come home.

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

@lyzit @cyb3rlex @billysjumbie @billsjumbie95 @bigbootahjudy @ilovebill-and-gustav @r3dheadedw0rld @V4mpyboyy @novaaisstupid @billybabeskaulitz @yas-v @iischafer @dilfverz @ahswhore0 @graciegizmo3184 @80s-tingz @ryiana @yuriayatoz @bunnysenpai31 @banshailey @bellastoner420 @victryzvv9 @stxngnr @killed-kiss @stilesandjames @m00nzyblogs @sylisan

[rems-writing]

Alternative Remedies

Pairing: fwb idol!San × witch gn!reader

Summary: One fuck up after another and the youngest Mills child is officially fed up. Good thing San is in town. And he has certain ways to make his lover relax

Warning(s): Cursing, yelling, a teeny bit of violence, mentions of stress, cockwarming, size kink, homeboy is playing with your ass a lot lol

Genre: Angst with a supposed fluffy ending and definitely smut

Nets: @mirohs-aurora-society

Thank you to @bunnliix for giving me the drabble title

Done.

That's what you were.

Just utterly fucking done.

You were just supposed to relax and help Mr. Gold and Belle take care of baby Gideon but nope! You had to go on a small quest with Snow White and David Charming. Emma and Hook were taking care of baby Neal and you couldn't use Henry as an excuse to opt out of this quest since the young boy was with Zelena. She wanted to bond with him a bit more and Regina volunteered to take care of baby Robin. So now here you were.

Sitting in the back of a cop car

With the Seven Dwarves

And they were yapping about such damn nonsense. You forgot your earbuds at home so you couldn't ignore their endless bickering about whatever the fuck they were on about. When it was time to catch the bad guy, you teleported out of the car and in between Emma's parents.

The quest was easy. You took out the bad guys with ease. So why were you so fed up? Simple.

Dopey swung his pickaxe and tried to hit the bad guy but they dodged at the last second and the tip of the axe slashed your arm. What was worse was that it was laced with magic.

Light magic.

And you dealt with dark magic for the main part.

When you screamed, or screeched in pain, random bursts of spells were expelled from your palms and everyone was blown backwards.

Which leads us to now.

You were yelling at Dopey for being stupid and not paying attention to where the axe was thrown and Grumpy stood up for him. Poorly may I add.

Snow and David swore they say smoke come out of your ears as you cussed out Grumpy. The angry dwarf remained stoic but the couple could tell he was afraid for his life.

"SCREW THIS! SCREW ALL OF YOU! FUCK THIS SHIT! I'M DONE!"

You threw Dopey's pickaxe to the side and teleported out of the forest in a puff of smoke. You were now in your apartment, sighing to yourself as you laid on the bed. Then, a notification appeared on your phone and you were about to tell whoever texted you to fuck off when a look of pleasant surprise appeared on your face.

San: Hey, baby

San: I'm in town

San: Well, technically I'm in New York lol anyways

San: My group finished the first concert for our American tour and I told them that I was gonna stay behind since they wanted to go out. Told them I wasn't feeling too well.

San: Wanna come over? We don't have to fuck. I just want you close to me.

You didn't think twice about responding back. Choi San was definitely someone that could help you with your stress. It's even better since he knows you're a witch so you didn't feel the need to cover up your words if you were going to rant to him plus you can poof in front of him anytime you'd like

You: Sure. I'll be there in a bit. Lemme get ready.

San: I'm in the same hotel as last time. I'll be waiting, kitten.

And that's how you ended up in his room, straddling him and kissing him fiercely. He matched your ferocity and grabbed your ass a lot. He squeezed your hips and played with both of your cheeks for a bit before pulling away.

"Bad day today?"

"Oh you don't know the half of it, Sannie."

As you ranted about your day, he mindlessly played with the hem of your jacket and listened to your words tentatively. He cradled your face and kissed your forehead softly.

"I know you put a spell on this jacket so your memory doesn't get fucked up since you're outside of Storybrooke. But may I remove it for now? I want to feel you." He asked gently. "I thought you didn't want to have sex." You were confused. "I don't but still. I need you with me. Do you catch my drift?" He clarified and it dawned on you. "Yeah you can remove it for now. I need you as well." He smiled at your confirmation before slowly shrugging off your jacket and setting it on the nightstand. You took off your leggings and San brought you into a deep kiss before licking his fingers and plunging them into your hole. While he was doing that, you took off your shirt and so did he.

You forgot how wide he was and you almost came on the spot.

As you were admiring his strong build, he sunk you down onto his equally thick cock and you moaned loudly. He chuckled smoothly and leaned in to nip, kiss, and lick at your neck. He missed marking you up. You tried your best not to squirm around since you were just cockwarming him, but with the way he was smacking and grabbing your ass, you couldn't help but wiggle in his strong hold. He pressed you against his semi naked form and just held you. He may have been shirtless, but his sweats and boxers were just pulled down to the middle of his thighs.

You mindlessly ran your hands over his broad shoulders and gawked at his firm chest, tiny waist, sculpted abs, pretty collarbone, muscular arms, and his face.

Oh his face was to die for.

Sharp jawline, sharper eyes, a pretty nose, pretty lips, high cheekbones, and

Was that an eyebrow slit?

"Nice brow slit." You commented randomly and he smiled. You found it endearing when his smile made his eyes crinkle and almost close up. "Thank you. I wanted to try something new." He explained. "Well you look nice."

For the rest of the time, you were just sitting on his cock, moving every now and then to keep him firm so he doesn't go limp and slip out. You definitely needed this. You felt all your stress wash away and you sighed in content as you looked down at the man that was holding you down onto his cock.

Choi San will be the death of you.

[shadowcatzone]

xingyue child after all the trauma (tm)

Xingyue child buying/sharing lunch with yanqing bc the stupid kid used all his money for swords again and didn't buy food. Despite knowing probably that if they keep feeding him he'll keep wasting all his money on swords rather than starving once or twice and then learning his lesson.

(They probably get any money spent back from jing yuan but don't tell yanqing)

Xingyue child adjusting yanqings age like a slider depending on who asks and what will get them the most benefit out of it. Wanna go to some sort of amusement park? He's 9 so he only pays half. Wanna watch a martial arts movie? He's 14 actually so old enough. Wanna get out of trouble quickly? "Sir, i'm just the attendant of jing yuans young son. You'll have to take any complaints to his father."

(They might get in trouble with jing yuan for this, but they're rather scolded by their "uncle" than a stranger)

Xingyue childs first priority being bailu, second priority yanqing. If something, anything, goes wrong, they'll pick up bailu, (and yanqing, if necessary) then make a run for either the artisanship commission or divination commission.

(Then they'll wait any danger out on a rooftop or in the forge until jing yuan or yanqing come pick them up)

Xingyue child playing with bailu. Neither of them really needs to pretend that they're younger than they actually are, but they will. Both are over 18 technically. Neither is fully grown. Both will absolutely throw a temper tantrum if only to throw off suspicion. Then they'll shit-talk about the preceptors.

(Included but not limited to: playing in yanqings room when he isn't there, playing in jing yuans room when yanqing IS there, playing in the study when jing yuan isn't there.)

Xingyue child trying to fight (and defeat) dan heng, ultimately getting defeated without dan heng making a single attack. Man's just dodging while xingyue child exhausts themself and ultimately falls on their face. Decides that dan heng is mean and will never fight him again (until the next opportunity arises) pouting all day afterwards.

(Jing yuan says he could at least block them. Dan heng claims that would be unfair, considering he's much stronger than them. Jing yuan sighs, dan heng is as stubborn as dan feng)

Xingyue child insisting on calling blade "yingxing" or "dad". That's a problem(tm), kafka never had to fix blade that often, not even during/after the story quest on the luofu.

(Because no one wants to leave the child alone with blade, even though he hasn't done anything to the child and it's unlikely that he will)

Xingyue child most likely picking up smithing (and tinkering) like yingxing and so they try to. Create. But they want blade to show them how, look at what they made, how is it etc. Nobody wants that, least of all blade, but the moment dan heng says he doesn't want it, blade will willingly go, if only to upset dan heng.

(Dan heng will be forced to go as well, to make sure "our child is okay. I mean, your child. I mean, my- no- their child. The child of dan feng and yingxing." Cue beet-red dan heng)

Bonus: xingyue child happily working in the forge, concentrating so hard on whatever they're making. Meanwhile, blade making out with dan heng, occasionally stopping mid-kiss to tell xingyue "you're doing great, keep it up." "Careful with that part, it can be difficult. You'll know what i mean" "just a bit more... [xingyue], heat the metal up a bit more.". Also, pushing his fingers into dan hengs mouth, to make sure he doesn't close it.

(If xingyue child noticed any of that (most likely not) they didn't let it show)

Also, cue blade abruptly stopping when he hears xingyue child call out "done!" Then runs over excitedly. Blade pretends nothing happened. Dan heng pretends the forge is too hot.

[aparticularbandit]

Movie Matters

Summary: If Ryoko can't get Yasuke to see Home Alone, she'll try to get him to see something else!

For DR Rarepair Week 2024 Day Six: Found Footage/Local Mystery, hosted by @dr-rarepair-week-blog.

References an idea discussed here and better used here.

Rating: G.

AO3

“I found another movie!”

Ryoko parades triumphantly into Yasuke’s office, holding a DVD case aloft in one hand, a bright grin on her face.  She narrowly dodges the scalpel thrown at her face and hides behind the DVD case.  “Don’t!  You’ll break the case, and I borrowed this from the library, and I’m pretty sure if you break it, then I have to pay for the whole thing, and you wouldn’t want me to pay for the whole thing, would you?”

“You say that like I care.”  Yasuke doesn’t even look up from his manga, just turns another page and keeps reading.  “Why would you think I want to see a movie with an ugly girl like you?”

“Well, I was reading in my notebook, and it said we already saw that Christmas movie together,” Ryoko says, brow furrowing.  She pulls her notebook out and flips through the pages.  “See?  Right here!”  She points to it.  Then she frowns.  “It also says that you wouldn’t see it with me again.  Which is mean because I don’t remember it.  But I thought—”

“That was your first problem,” Yasuke interrupts.

Ryoko blinks twice and looks up.  “Huh?”

“Trying to think.”

“If you teach me to think better, I’ll do that!” Ryoko exclaims, holding her notebook and the DVD case closer to her chest.  “I can be whatever you want me to be, if you’ll just tell me!”

Yasuke just rolls his eyes.  “You can’t fix your ugly, and no matter what I do, I can’t fix your brain, so no.  You’ll just forget whatever I tell you, and it’s a waste of my time to tell you over and over again.”

“W-w-well, I can write it in my notebook!”  Ryoko opens her notebook again, this time to the first clean page.  “I’ll just write it….”  Her brow furrows.  She stares at the DVD case.  “What’s this?”  She turns back a page, reads, and then holds the DVD case aloft again.  “Yasuke, I found us a movie to—”

“I got it.”  Suddenly, Yasuke is standing in front of her (when did he get there?), and he taps his nearly closed manga on her forehead.  He doesn’t seem to notice as Ryoko blushes; instead, he focuses on the DVD in her hands, neatly taking it away from her and reading the cover.  He grimaces.  “Blair Witch Project?  This is a horror movie.”

Ryoko forgets the blush and nods rapidly.  “Yes!  I thought….”  She glances down to her notebook again, and a magazine page drops out.  When she snatches it up, she grins.  “See?  This article here: If you want to spend quality time with your boyfriend, see a scary movie!  He’ll get all protective of you when you get scared!”  She flushes again.  “I…I mean, we’re not, you’re not my—”

“Let me see that.”  Yasuke snatches the magazine page out of her fingertips.  His eyes narrow as he reads.  “You little ass—”

“What’s wrong?”

Yasuke crumples the magazine page up and tosses it in his wastebasket.  “I hate horror movies.”

Ryoko blinks twice.  “Oh.”  She starts to write it down—

“Don’t write that down!”

“But I have to take that movie back!” Ryoko exclaims, reaching out for the DVD Yasuke’d taken from her.  “I have to take it back, and I have to know to not get a horror movie because you don’t like them, and then I can find a better movie from the library, and I can bring it back, and we can—”

Yasuke taps his manga atop her head again, and Ryoko quiets.  “It’s okay,” he says as she glances up.  “You can see it with me.”  His voice sounds all soft, but it’s gone in a moment when he continues, “Just don’t expect me to pay attention.  Got it?  My book is better than that stupid thing.”

“Okay!”  Ryoko beams up at him.

~

Ryoko spends the entire movie hiding against a Yasuke who is adamantly not paying attention.  It absolutely does not help that she keeps forgetting what’s going on as the movie continues, which honestly makes the whole thing more terrifying.  She quivers and scoots closer to him, and when the whole thing is over, she says, “You have to let me stay with you tonight!  I’m going to have nightmares, and only being with you will help!”

“You’ll forget the whole thing by the time you go to sleep.”  Yasuke scoots away from her.  “And I don’t want your ugly smelly face around.  I’ve had enough of you.”

“You’re so mean!”