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jgracie · 1 month

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LOVE ME LIKE YOU DO — PERCY + DAUGHTER OF APHRODITE

masterlist | rules

❝ Can I request percy x daughter of Aphrodite? ❞ — 🧸

in which percy dates a daughter of aphrodite

pairing percy jackson x aphrodite!reader

warnings i had to break up percabeth for the plot im sorry 😞, one swear word

on the radio . . . love me like you do (ellie goulding)

When Percy and Annabeth broke up, all of Camp Half-Blood was in shock

In their minds, they were the couple. The one little kids would look up to and teens would pray to emulate. How could they possibly break up?

Percy wished he knew. I mean, he kind of understood why, but part of him was still confused

You see, it was Annabeth who’d ended things. Annabeth, who had been head-over-heels in love with Percy ever since they were 12. She was nice about it, luckily, but Percy was still hurt

The reason why she ended their relationship was because she wanted to discover herself, and she couldn’t do that with Percy by her side. She’d been stuck in camp nearly her whole life until Percy came along, and when he did, she spent years doing quests and fighting by his side

She felt like she knew who Percy’s girlfriend was, and who Athena’s daughter is, but not Annabeth. That’s why she ended things

Every day, Percy would mope around his cabin, his heart shattered. Annabeth was his first love. He was happy for her, of course, but a larger part of him was sad for himself

To make matters worse, the Fates seemed to be working against him, since he got broken up with just a week before his mother and Paul’s wedding. How was he supposed to attend an event celebrating love when he lost his?

Besides, now he doesn't have a date. Annabeth was still going to go, of course, but with her own ticket, not his +1. The seats were already booked and paid for though, so he couldn’t tell his parents to remove one

Which is why he was in his current situation. Standing outside of the Aphrodite cabin, debating whether or not he should walk away

Percy hated to beg, but he didn’t have much choice. The Aphrodite kids were most likely to agree to go with him, since they love everything to do with love, especially weddings

Recollecting himself, Percy knocked on the front door

“Oh, hi Percy!” Piper said, inviting him in. As soon as he walked in, the whole cabin went silent, all eyes on him. Out of all the people in camp, Aphrodite’s kids were the most interested in his breakup with Annabeth. Percy knew they didn’t mean any harm, as matters of love just genuinely piqued their interest, but he hated the way their eyes were always watching their every move

Quietly, he told Piper, “I want to ask your siblings something, if that's okay,” then, when Piper nodded, he addressed the rest of the cabin, “so… My mom and step-dad are getting married next week and I was supposed to go with Annabeth but she’s not my date anymore and I still have an extra invite so I was wondering if maybe one of you guys wanna come?”

The room, which was once so silent you could hear a pin drop, suddenly became awfully loud as they all argued about who should go with Percy. This didn’t last very long though, thanks to Piper

Eyebrows furrowed, Piper clapped her hands, immediately silencing her siblings, “before you all start drawing lots to see who goes, I’m going to check and see if Y/N wants to go. I think we can all agree she needs this more than anyone, right?”

To Percy’s surprise, there was no arguing regarding this. He’d heard about you in passing before - Aphrodite’s most beautiful daughter, favoured by the Goddess herself not just for your extreme good looks but for your warm heart, dating Annabeth’s half-sibling Ali - but nothing about you needing to attend weddings

Piper went over to a bunk in the corner of the room, one Percy hadn’t noticed was occupied until now, and spoke to you in a hushed tone. When she pointed at Percy, you turned to look at him, and he could see that your eyes were bloodshot

With your arm wrapped around Piper’s, you made your way over to Percy, unfazed by the eyes that were locked on you, “I’ll go with you.”

You spent the days leading up to the wedding getting to know each other, since neither of you wanted to attend a wedding with a stranger, and discovered you actually had a lot in common

Namely, both of you were broken up with by children of Athena. Turns out, you were no longer Ali’s girlfriend - he’d broken up with you a couple days after Annabeth broke up with Percy. Not a lot of people knew, since the news of your own breakup was overshadowed by Percy’s

When he heard that, he apologised, but you’d smiled at him and told him it was fine, since you didn’t want much attention on the breakup anyway. That was Percy’s first time seeing you smile since hanging out with you, and he felt as if Eros himself had shot an arrow right through his heart

He couldn’t fall for you though, not now at least. Both of you were healing from breakups

The longer you met up with Percy, the better you felt. You were absolutely devastated when your now ex had broken up with you, saying something along the lines of, “it’s not you, it’s me,” when you begged for an explanation

You knew the truth, though. People in camp didn’t see you as anything other than Aphrodite’s favourite daughter, a pretty girl who just cared about her makeup and romance novels. While you loved both things, you weren’t anywhere near that level of shallowness

So, they date you just to say that the most gorgeous girl in camp’s dating them, then break up with you the moment you say anything remotely intellectual, challenging their masculinity

Usually, you didn’t care too much, since you know your own self-worth, but for some reason, your breakup with Ali really hurt. Maybe it’s because you thought as a son of Athena, with sisters who were also smart, he’d understand

You spent the first couple days after your breakup doing nothing other than crying in your bunk and reading romance books (which only made you feel worse). Your siblings, bless their hearts, had tried to make you feel better - doing your nails, telling you jokes - but nothing worked

Until Percy. You didn’t know if it was the fact that he was going through a breakup too, or the fact that he was still funny despite having his heart broken too, but he was the only person who knew how to make you smile, pulling you out of the pit you were in and allowing you to bask in the daylight

The week flew by, and eventually, it was time for the wedding. Your siblings fawned all over you as they did your hair and makeup, an Aphrodite cabin tradition. Usually, this tradition was only performed before first dates as a ‘good luck charm’ of sorts, but they decided to do it for you before the wedding

You thought they were just being sweet, forgetting that you shared a mother and therefore they of all people would know when you met the one. Your siblings saw the way Percy brought the glow back to your skin, and were eternally grateful as now they had their precious sister back

They were also grateful to him because you’d be gone for a whole day, meaning there was nothing stopping them from taking revenge on the Athena cabin :) Never underestimate the power of love!

“Hi Percy!” You said, waving, a bright smile plastered on your face. The dress you were wearing was a colour your mother knew suited you perfectly, and it cascaded down your body in waves, the lace detailing doing nothing to calm Percy’s rapidly beating heart.

The poor boy was genuinely afraid he’d pass out as he held an arm out for you, which you gladly took, wanting to be as close to him as possible, “you look gorgeous,” he said, blushing

“You don’t look too bad yourself,” you replied, the grin on your face growing. Your cheeks hurt, but something about Percy had you unable to stop smiling

Together, you left camp and headed for the wedding venue - Montauk beach

As a daughter of Aphrodite, you had a lot of experience with weddings. For some reason, wedding invites always seemed to find their way to the children of love, and so you’ve attended lots of them

And you adored every single one, of course, but they all paled in comparison to Sally and Paul’s. It wasn’t the most extravagant you’ve ever attended - just a small wedding with only close friends and family (and you) invited, but you could feel the love radiating off of the newlyweds

That alone made it your favourite, and as a warm, fuzzy feeling coated your body and soul while they were saying their vows, you turned to look at Percy. The corners of his lips were tilted in a smile, knowing how much his mother deserved her happily ever after

Would you ever experience a love like that? And if so, was there a chance it could be with Percy? Sure, you’d only properly known him for a week, but the two of you connected so quickly! Surely, that had to be a sign

You quickly pushed those thoughts to the back of your mind. Even if it was a sign, you knew neither of you were ready to date yet

So, when the wedding ended, you said your goodbyes and walked side-by-side in silence, unsaid words hanging in the air between you

That was until your heel broke. You knew these weren’t a good pair, having had many close calls before, but you’d hoped they’d last just one more wear since they matched the rest of your outfit so well

“Shit!” You said, stumbling as the heel finally gave in. Subconsciously, Percy grabbed you by the waist, saving you from an awful fall whilst pulling you closer to him. You felt your face heat up at this gesture, which wasn’t doing much to help your confusing feelings

He then let go of you, bending down to untie his shoelaces. Furrowing your brows, you asked, “what’re you doing?” Percy didn’t reply until he’d taken off both shoes, offering them to you

“You can wear these. I have socks,” you couldn’t believe your ears. None of the men you went out with before would even think to do something so selfless. You shook your head, about to tell him you couldn’t do that, when he bent down to put the shoes on you (PERSEUS JACKSON 😭🙏🏼). They weren’t your size, but it wasn’t the end of the world

Shyly, you mumbled, “thank you,” then, looking off to the side, you said, “we can still hang out at camp, right? You’re a really good friend, Percy. I haven’t felt this happy in a while.”

“Of course, Y/N, what kind of question is that? You make me really happy too!”

At that moment, a dove flew over and landed on your shoulder. You smiled, scratching his head. Judging by the fact that it smelt like perfume, it was pretty safe to assume your mother sent it

A good omen

After the wedding, you continued to hang out. In fact, you did everything together - you made sure your cabins were on the same side when playing capture the flag, you joined forces during the chariot races, you even started sleeping at Percy’s cabin every once in a while, on the days when your meetups went past curfew and you couldn’t risk leaving in case the harpies caught you

As the months passed, the gash in your heart healed, and you got to a point where you wouldn’t even think about Ali anymore. How could you, when Percy was right there? He didn’t feel challenged by your brains, he embraced your cleverness and encouraged you to share your thoughts at all times

Percy also started getting over Annabeth. He wasn’t ever upset at her for breaking up with him, but he definitely avoided her. He felt bad about it, but every time he tried to hang out with her again, his heart would ache

Now, their relationship had gone back to what it was before their breakup, and she’d even join the two of you occasionally. On one of her visits, she apologised on her brother’s behalf, to which you were elated to reply with, “Gods, I completely forgot about that!”

Annabeth would simply smile, knowing you had your eyes on someone else now

In fact, everyone seemed to know you and Percy liked each other. Everyone but the two of you

That’s why they’d orchestrated this. The Apollo, Aphrodite and Dionysus cabins, as well as a couple demigods from other cabins, decided to throw a party in celebration of… well, a holiday

The point of this was that there was no special occasion. You and Percy would arrive at this ‘party’ only to realise you’d been tricked, then stay because you just love being around each other, then the fireworks would illuminate the sky and you’d realise how much you love each other and share a romantic kiss under the stars

At least, that’s what your siblings thought would happen

So, news about the celebration passed around camp and eventually made its way to you. You weren’t going to go at first, since you didn’t even know what you were supposed to be celebrating, but then Percy told you he was going. Why would you pass up the opportunity to go to a party with him?

The night arrived, and you left your cabin alone. When you asked your siblings why they weren’t coming, they just started yapping about needing to iron their outfits and wash their makeup brushes, telling you they’d catch up with you later. You left, not questioning much

Hiding behind the bushes was a strange group: Pollux, Kayla Knowles, Piper Mclean and Annabeth Chase. The four had their eyes locked on where you and Percy were supposed to meet up, praying their plan would work

“Ugh, where are they? They’re taking forever!” Kayla exclaimed, quickly earning a chorus of shushes from the other three

“I’m sure they’ll come soon,” Piper told the girl, putting some charmspeak into her words so everyone would calm down

On cue, you and Percy arrived at the venue, your laughter dying down as you realised not a single soul was there. Looking down at his watch, Percy said, “I thought we were late. Doesn’t this thing start at 9PM? It’s 9:30 right now.”

“Yeah,” you replied. You had a feeling there was something bigger at play here. Shrugging your shoulders, you sat on the grass and patted the spot next to you, telling Percy to sit

“This area’s actually really nice, we should come here more often,” you said as you looked around. Percy hummed in agreement

Eventually, the four decided you spent enough time chatting, and Pollux lit the fireworks, which shot up to the sky as bright pink hearts. You checked your surroundings, demigod instincts on alert. Had a monster infiltrated camp? Was this their idea of a sick joke?

Percy placed a calming hand on your shoulder, “hey, I don’t think there’s anyone around. It’s okay.” The tension left your body and you looked up at the sky, your head on Percy’s shoulder as you watched the fireworks

There were too many signs

You turned to the boy, and found he was already looking at you

There were too many signs

You grabbed him by the collar and pulled him closer to you, feeling his breath on your skin. He let you

There were too many signs

You kissed him then, and he kissed back

Dating hcs now 🥳 I think that’s the longest backstory I’ve ever written

You’re a “if you do it, I’ll do it” kind of couple. Even without your charmspeak, you could convince Percy to rob a building just by saying you wanted him to

Sally and Paul were really happy when they found out you started dating. Even though it’d been almost a year since their wedding, they hadn’t forgotten the loving glances you’d take at each other

You tell them their wedding’s your favourite by far and they have to fight the urge to cry

Percy quite literally worships the ground you walk on. You’re not Percy’s girlfriend, he's Y/N’s boyfriend LOL. As your relationship progresses, you open up about all your other relationships and only your charmspeak could stop him from going and giving all those guys a lecture

He’s always hyping you up and reminding you of how you’re worthy of love!!! Even a daughter of Aphrodite needs to hear it sometimes

One day, the Gods seem to be smiling down at him, since he finally gets an opportunity to speak with Ali. Life went majorly downhill for your ex-boyfriend ever since you broke up, and while you’d never wish horrible things upon anyone, you couldn’t help but feel a little happy to hear it

Anyways. Percy was heading to the climbing wall when Ali bumped into him. The latter grunted an apology and Percy was going to just smile at him and continue his journey when he noticed who it was

Immediate scowl. If you listen closely you can hear the nearest body of water churning, mirroring Percy’s emotions. Ali attempts to continue going where he was going but Percy stops him, refusing to let him go until he gets an earful of how you’re the best girl in the world and how scum like him didn’t deserve to be anywhere near a queen like you <3

He thinks you don’t know he did this but one of your siblings was around and reported to you as soon as they saw you! They also told the rest of your cabin and from then on the Aphrodite cabin = official Percy fanclub

This boy loves listening to you talk. Your voice is so gorgeous, just like the rest of you, he can’t help it!! Your words flowed in a way Percy never thought words could

Gets you to read things aloud whenever he can. It’s really funny but also cute so you do it anyway

“Sweetie can you read this I can’t see it very clearly” “Percy that’s the camp entrance you know what it says” “No I think my eyesight is getting worse!!” “Okay fine, it says ‘Camp Half-Blood’”

Also random but you guys watch Say Yes to the Dress and other wedding related TV shows together. A wedding intertwined your fates so naturally you love watching these kinds of things

Always commenting on the dresses! You have an eye for beauty and at first he agrees with you just because you’re so pretty how could he disagree? But eventually you pass your tastes onto him and it’s like he can read your mind

After many of these episodes Percy’s mind can’t help but gravitate towards the theme of marriage and all of a sudden he’s planning your own wedding (WINK WINK!!!!)

This is especially bad in the middle of the night. Texts you pictures of wedding venues with the caption “do you want me to book this one?” Like okay sure for 5 years from now?!?!

Percy “wear whatever you want babe I can fight” Jackson the man you are <3

#percy jackson x reader #percy jackson x you #percy jackson x y/n #percy jackson #percy jackson x fem reader #pjo #pjo x reader #percy jackson fanfic #percy jackson headcannons #percy jackson x aphrodite reader #percy jackson x daughter of aphrodite #aphrodite pjo #children of aphrodite #daughter of aphrodite #cynwrites

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sm-baby · 3 days

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so now that you’ve watched ep2, has anything about the characters dynamics surprised you at all? any details you liked? personally i really enjoyed that pomni got to be a little cynical i love that for her ahajshdjc

We finally get to see Pomni,,,🥹 Im so happy to meet her,,, SHES,, SUCH A SWEETHEART??? SHES SUCH A SWEETHEART,,,

Pleasantly surprised at how chaotic jax was ToT turns out I was right on the money with carnival

Kinger is a lot more toned down than i expected him to be! Genuinely a surprise! He was so sweet as well I love his scene with Ragatha,,, RAHH TOT

CAINE FUCKING SMOKES and-- man!! He stutters when hes stressed and panicked! Bahaha! I love how its the family friendly blunt too! With the toy bubble blowers!

bubble's "no thanks Im trying to quit" makes Caine and Bubble feel more like co-workers rather than " god and his creation", I have to draw Carnival bubble being so comically normal ToT

Also-- with zooble being exempted from the adventure-- im genuinely so surprised that Caine WOULDN'T force someone to go! I feel like everyone has headcanoned that the adventures are a lot more horrific and theyre forced to participate-- which we shouldn't be surprised with how everyone just didn't care in the first episode ToT

Zooble,, is a sweetheart.. yes.. this is good... Theyre not a stone cold person... They set up Kaufmo's funeral, put a hand on Ragatha's shoulder, said their own speech all sad... And they would ALSO willingly grab Pomni from her pit! Zooble ur stealing my heart TwT

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some-thrilling-heroics · 2 months

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i'm workshopping halsin's past in terms of relationships

considering that halsin was very likely bullied as a kid (thaniel was his only friend) and how he is a prime target for an abusive relationship (you can say all kinds of nasty things to him and he will just look sad but not break up with you or draw any kind of line that next time it's over or anything - and sure player chara lifts the curse so it's all magic on a pedestal and heart eyes but still…)

the way i see it time-wise: he's 350 now and i don't see him having any relationships like that since the shadow curse / taking over as archdruid, so that takes us down to him at 250 - his slavery 3 years were in his youth so im gonna assume that's closer to him either below or just around 100 so let's say ages 20-80/100 he might have had some relationships, then underdark happened at some point and then ages 80/100-250 again he is out and might be in relationships

so with that in mind, i'm trying to picture his past relationships and how they ended, what could be some common threats in most / many of them and were the breakups amicable or not

maybe besides duty and power imbalance and lack of peers / actual friends the reason he didn't have any relationship in the time as archdruid would also be that he was at that point aware enough that when he gets involved with sb he is easily manipulated by them, even if a relationship starts all sunshine and roses it always devolves when the other party(-ies) pick up on that and - not even to keep himself safe from that but to keep the grove safe from the potential dangers of that - he stayed single? that would also fit with him expecting the ship with tav to end even if it's going well and they are living in the commune, he's still waiting for that other shoe to drop, like all the other times

would his past lovers have issue with his relationship with his bear shape? they'd know he's a druid but he's not exactly standard in his approach, whether you go with werebear approach or not. would that have been a point of conflict in some relationships? would he have ended things if it was?

would some of them - either intentionally or through ignorance - hear him say openly he's polyamorous and take it as an open invitation to cheat on him or to involve third parties without properly discussing it with halsin and just assuming he'd be up for anything and with anybody? (i get wood elves are culturally polyamorous so this point might not necessarily apply to them, but clearly halsin doesn't limit himself to just dating wood elves)

on the flipside i don't want him to only have bad relationships, or only ones that in time turn abusive, but what would happen there? imo the simplest would be 'we're just having fun and want different things long term from life' or duty calls and the like that would necessitate a breakup. i would hate the idea that tav is the only / first good happy steady relationship in his long life and thus somehow special - outside of the special aspect being around the curse breaking bc can't argue with that.

thoughts? anybody?

#halsin #baldur's gate 3 #bg3

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nicksbestie · 2 months

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HI!!!! im back hehe >:]

can u please write an fem agere!reader x [kinda] cg jake & johnnie where;

> reader is colouring and starts slipping into a regressed mind without trying

> jake n johnnie then start talking to her but shes all baby [she doesnt realise while shes talking to them]

> so they both gotta figure it out [theyre confused at first]

> then when they realise whats going on [bc she told them about it a while ago] they try to take care of her

[hope this makes sense LOL]

Coloring - Johnnie Guilbert + Jake Webber

Summary : When an activity that you're doing to cure boredom causes you to slip, you're incredibly lucky that your best friends are so wonderful.

Pairing : Jake Webber/Reader (platonic), Johnnie Guilbert/Reader (platonic)

Word Count : 1276

Warnings : none!!

A/N : This is an age regression fic, which is purely safe for work and innocent. Any hate/disrespect towards me, my work, or readers, will not be tolerated.

There were some activities that never stopped being fun despite the process of growing up. Coloring was one of those things for you, and it had always been something that you did for fun, to unwind, and you had continued to enjoy the activity regardless of how old you were. It was something that turned off your brain for a while, and let you relax, listen to music in the background, and just tune out the rest of the world. You loved the way that it was able to give you some quiet space for yourself, knowing that you often needed it. However, sometimes the activity could be more child-like, and it could be a trigger for your headspace.

It wasn’t often that just the simple thing of coloring pushed you into your headspace, but if you were really exhausted, or upset, or if you were feeling any other emotion stronger than you normally would be, then it was a possibility that it could cause you to slip. This was why you would usually color alone if too tired or sad, just so that you didn’t run the risk of anyone walking in should you slip. You lived with your two best friends, who both knew about your littlespace after a long, awkward, conversation, because they came home once while you were small. They had luckily been incredibly accepting and loving, and had been there for you when you needed anything since that point.

You hadn’t taken them up on it, not wanting to bother them, and still having some anxiety around it. But you made sure that they both knew just how much you appreciated the support and kindness that they consistently displayed, always making sure that you were happy, as much as possible. Jake had already had his assumptions about what was going on before he found out, but he had pushed it to the back of his mind until that one day that he had walked in. He was always the most gentle with you, always watching to make sure that everything was okay, that you were comfortable and felt safe, even in his own presence.

Today, you weren’t feeling upset at all, and so, you were coloring at the coffee table in front of the television. There was a random show playing in the background, and you were working on a mandala coloring, switching from marker to marker every time you started on a new detail. You had been working on it for a while, and were almost finished with it. By the time you finished it, you set it to the side, tearing another of the mandala designs out of the book, since it had perforated pages. It was much easier for you to color when your page was directly on a flat surface and not just the book, and you didn’t have to worry about the markers bleeding through the paper onto the design behind it, effectively ruining it.

You were about halfway through the next drawing when you heard the garage open, and Jake’s car pulled in seconds later. You were glad that the garage had alerted you to them being home, because your back was facing the door, and if they had just walked in behind you, it probably would’ve startled you. You didn’t acknowledge when the door did eventually open, until you heard Jake yell a loud “We’re back!”. You smiled, turning around to wave at them, returning the hello as well. Johnnie walked over to see what you were doing, hugging you before glancing down at the paper in front of you.

“What’cha coloring?”

You smiled, picking up the page and showing it to him. You were always incredibly proud of the colorings that you had finished, because to you, it showed a lot of patience and dedication. Johnnie smiled, telling you it looked amazing. Jake put the stuff that they had bought, probably for his next video, and walked over to also take a look. He saw the one you were working on, and the one that you had finished earlier.

“These look amazing! I love them.”

You smiled, the praise getting to you and causing you to blush a little bit. You couldn’t deny that you did seek their approval, and it always made you feel super happy when you got it. Not that it was hard to earn, but still, it always felt like somewhat of a reward. You weren’t overly tired or upset today, but the gentle praise and soft smiles did make you feel like you were going to eventually slip. Choosing to not say anything else, you just continued to smile and work on the page you were coloring. Johnnie sat down on the couch next to you, passing you markers every now and then, throwing an arm around you and watching the show you had turned on as well.

Jake was doing something or other in the kitchen, probably making food, and when he offered Johnnie chicken nuggets, he noticed the way you lit up and immediately put some in for you. Once they had finished cooking, he brought you over a plate at the same time that he brought the nuggets over for Johnnie. You noticed once it was sitting in front of you that all of the nuggets were cut into smaller pieces, and you had a feeling that these two were just out to get you.

“Be careful, okay? You don’t wanna spill anything on the couch.”

Nodding, you started eating, continuing to color between bites. It was the combination of the cut up food, the coloring, the comforting arm around your shoulders, and the babying tone that was being used when speaking to you that caused you to eventually give in to your headspace, yet staying quiet because you do still harbor a little bit of fear about it. It wasn’t until Jake and Johnnie began having a conversation, filled with cursing and inappropriate jokes, that they realized. They made a crude joke to you, and you simply just stared at them, mumbling a soft

“Don say dat. Bad words.”

It was at this point that they simply stared back at you, completely confused at the sudden change, before snapping out of it. Jake was the first one to say anything, passing you another marker and side hugging you.

“You’re right, honey, I’m sorry.”

When Johnnie realized the tone of voice that was being used, he understood what was going on, and he couldn’t help but think that you were absolutely adorable. They both felt so honored that they were trusted with such a vulnerable part of your life. They both began making sure that everything around you was appropriate. Johnnie switched the channel, and Jake gently offered a different coloring book, one that had lots of cartoon characters in it. He didn’t make you take it, but he offered it to you, just in case you’d want it. Those designs would take a lot less patience to finish, thus possibly avoiding a potential meltdown. Jake easily cleaned up the dish once you finished your food, bringing you some juice to drink, and making sure that you were always wrapped up in someone’s arms, and feeling safe.

The rest of the night went arguably the best you could’ve asked for, neither of them blinking an eye at the babyish vocabulary, or the emotional state that you had sometimes. They both knew that when you were no longer in headspace, you would probably be anxious about what had happened, and they were fully prepared to reassure you and tell you that they loved caring for you.

~ taglist : @jake-and-johnnies-slut @gvf23 @elliem505 @ilydeaky @maryx2xx @oobleoob @aemrsy @blahbel668 @mystic-maniac @maddytheweird @707xn @jasperthefriendlyghostt @camille-1019

~ if you'd like to be added to my johnnie and jake taglist, click here!

~ my inbox is open, come chat!! <3

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fandomxpreferences · 2 years

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Let Me Love You

Pairing: Rooster x female!reader

TW: swearing, sad brad, angst with a happy ending (for the love of god we need some happy rooster, this man is endlessly tortured)

Summary: Bradley has been dealt a shitty hand in life, and he's determined to protect himself from getting hurt again. Everything is turned upside down when you blow into his life looking like everything he swears he doesn't want. (Based off this request)

Word Count:2.3k

A/N: Apparently im incapable of keeping it short and sweet. I have no idea how this happened, I didn't even know what direction I was going to take it and next think I know I have this so enjoy

Bradley Bradshaw didn't do relationships. It was a universally accepted fact by everyone that knew him. After seeing the way his dad's death destroyed his mother, he decided he could never do that to someone he loves. He accepted his fate, resigning himself to a life with no wife or kids.

When his mom got sick, he came home and took care of her until she passed. If there was ever a glimmer of hope that he would one day have the white picket fence and perfect family, it died with her. The only person left that he could count on was his Uncle Maverick. Then he pulled his papers from the academy. Bradley was left alone in the world, scrambling to find a way to fix the gaping hole that was blown into his future. Trust didn't come easily to him after that.

He'd had a few girlfriends scattered throughout his life, if you could call them that. They were more like flings that lasted a few months before he shipped off to another part of the world, never looking back. He knew it could never become something real. He was the love them and leave them type, and he was okay with that. Can't miss what you never had, right?

His mom had always kept his dad's memory alive, sharing stories of their love. Bradley couldn't wrap his head around how his mom never so much as looked at another man after his father's passing. No one would have blamed her. But she insisted that Nick Bradshaw had been it for her. Their brief time together was better than anything she would ever get from a lifetime with someone else. He never understood what she meant. Until he met you.

From the second Bradley's eyes landed on you, he knew you were going to rip through his life like a hurricane. You had waltzed into the hangar that day with a heart-stopping smile. You were one of only two women in his Top Gun class and he could immediately see why. There was an air of confidence about you. Your hair was neatly styled, your shoulders back and head held high. He felt time stand still, and for the first time in his life, he wondered if he had been wrong all those years. You met his gaze, and he saw his entire future in your eyes. Maybe he did want someone to come home to.

He kept his distance the first few days, observing from afar. You were an extraordinary pilot. He was in awe watching you in the air. Your instincts were razor sharp and you flew your aircraft as if it was an extension of your own body. You were always two steps ahead, somehow anticipating what your opponent would do before they seemed to know themself. You flew extremely fast and loved to show off, yet you were remarkably precise and calculated. It made you a formidable rival. Bradley could never understand how you could just let go and trust your intuition.

On the ground, you managed to be self-assured but kind. You could hold your own when provoked but had a laid-back and fun personality otherwise. Everyone seemed to like you without trying. You were easy to be around and made everyone feel like a part of the conversation. Your energy was magnetic and Bradley could feel himself getting pulled in.

You were the only woman he ever felt himself wanting to break his own rules for. He found himself jealous of everyone who got to interact with you. His fists clenched when one of the other pilots managed to draw out a laugh and his body tingled whenever he saw your smile. You were dangerous, and he knew if he wasn't careful he would fall in love with you. Little did he know, it was already too late.

From that point on, he avoided interacting with you unless in the air. If he did find himself in your presence, he was cold and shut off. You were never one to make enemies and didn't understand why he hated you. You had barely spoken to the man. You didn't get too hung up on it, letting his comments and attitude roll off your back. It went on like this for your entire time at Top Gun, and anytime you crossed paths for the next couple of years. Eventually, it hit a boiling point.

You've been assigned to the same mission as Bradley, and the two of you have been paired up. You're drowning your sorrows at the bar on base, keeping your distance from Bradley a few seats down from you. You feel him shooting daggers at you and decide you've had enough. You stand and march towards him, stopping a couple feet away and crossing your arms.

"What the fuck is your problem?" Your face is hot from a mixture of alcohol and anger. He shoots you a glance and scoffs. "I don't have a problem." He shrugs, and you roll your eyes.

"Bullshit, Bradshaw. You've hated me since we were in Top Gun." Your eyes narrow and Bradley can't help but think you're cute when you're mad. He'd never admit it but his heart was racing, excited to talk to you even if you were chewing him out.

He looks at you fully and his heart drops when he sees tears in your eyes. Shit. He never meant to make you cry. Truthfully, he didn't think you had noticed him enough to be able to elicit any type of response in the first place. His face softens and he sets his beer down.

"I don't hate you." His voice is soft, but you hear him crystal clear. You shrink into yourself, your liquid confidence dwindling. Bradley has never seen you so timid and he mentally curses himself for being the cause of it. "Then why are you always mean to me?" You ask with a small voice.

He avoids eye contact and crosses his arms. He's too drunk for this. "Because you scare me." He admits. "I don't like getting close to people, and I wouldn't be able to help myself."

After his confession that night three years ago, your relationship changed. He slowly opened up, telling you all his most safely guarded secrets. You were best friends, one of you never far from the other.

Bradley knew he was in love with you, but he also knew the two of you could never be together. You didn't feel that way about him and even if you did, he was determined to never let himself have the life he so craved with you. He was okay with keeping his feelings to himself if it meant protecting you.

What the sandy-haired idiot didn't realize, was that you were head over heels for him too. It killed you to know you couldn't have more with Bradley. He had told you his reasoning for never wanting a serious relationship or family. You couldn't blame him, even if you did want to smack him in the back of the head for making choices based on a hypothetical situation instead of the very real one standing right in front of him.

So that's how your relationship worked. Both of you decided that it was better to have each other as friends, than not at all. Which is what brings you to your current predicament.

You and Rooster are sitting across from each other on his couch. Every Friday you two order takeout and stay up watching shitty reality shows, but tonight you decided to add alcohol. You've both had a bit too much to drink, no longer paying any attention to the re-run playing on the tv.

You'd been thumb wrestling, the sounds of your giggles mixing and filling the room. All of a sudden, Bradley pulled back and got a serious look on his face. You had laughed and asked him if he was okay, but he didn't respond. It's been several minutes since either of you has talked, Bradley looking deep in thought.

You're about to ask again when he looks up at you. Your heart squeezes when you see unshed tears on his water line. You don't say anything, silently reaching out to grab his hand and run your thumb across his knuckles. If you thought your heart hurt before, what he says to you leaves it shattered on the floor.

"Everyone I've ever cared for has either died or left me. Except for you." A tear falls off his face and you reach forward to cup his cheek. It's a drunken moment of vulnerability, but you know the sentiment is real. You silently wonder how long he's been carrying that thought in his heart.

His large hand holds yours in place, and you realize your hand is completely enveloped in his. Your stomach does a flip when you feel how warm he is, and you can't help but notice how they fit together like puzzle pieces.

"Look at me," you say and his eyes meet yours. "I will never leave you, Bradley." Before you have time to think it through, you lean forward and press your mouths together. His lips are softer than you expected, and electricity shoots through you. It's like a ball of fire explodes in your chest, sending warmth all the way to the tips of your fingers and toes.

The second you make contact, Bradley is kissing you back. The two of you are chest to chest, lips moving in sync like you've done this a million times. Your bliss is cut short when Bradley launches backward as if he's been shot. He quickly stands and turns his back to you, running his hands through his hair.

You stay on the couch and watch him pace. You should feel embarrassed, but all you can think about is how you want to hold the broken man in front of you until he's whole again. You know you can't go back to the way things were after tonight. Your voice is soft, and Bradley stops dead in his tracks when he hears you. "I'm in love with you."

"Don't," he starts. You can hear in his voice that he's sobered up significantly. "You're not in love with me. Please, tell me you’re not in love with me. I'm not going to be able to pretend anymore. Please, let me pretend." He whimpers.

You stand and walk towards him, stopping only a few inches away. You already know what he means, but you open your mouth to ask anyway. He gives you a pleading look, silently begging you not to continue.

"Pretend what, Bradley?" His eyes screw shut and heavy tears stain his cheeks. He takes a deep breath before opening his eyes to look at you. "That I'm not in love with you too." He shakes his head and steps around you to sit back on the couch.

His head drops into his hands and he continues. "If I let myself imagine a life with you, I'm too selfish to stop myself. I can't leave you like my dad left my mom. I can't leave anyone to mourn me." He sobs.

You kneel in front of him and gently bring his face up where you can see it. "It's too late." You're crying now too and Bradley feels his heart break even further.

"I decided a long time ago that loving you is worth the risk of losing you. Please, let me love you." You choke out.

"What if you're not the one coming home to an empty house? If I let myself love you and you're taken from me too, I don't think I'll survive." He admits.

The only thing scarier to him than never coming home to you is the thought of you never coming home to him. He never thought he'd fall for another pilot and have to face the idea that he may be the one left heartbroken.

You place your forehead against his and close your eyes. "If god forbid something happens to me, I don't want to spend my last moments not knowing what it feels like to be loved by you. There's always a chance of something happening. What if we grow old and realize we missed a life full of love, because of fear? You keep asking what if something happens, but have you ever thought to ask what if something doesn't?"

Bradley feels his resolve crumble. He knows that pretending he doesn't love you isn't going to make it hurt any less if he loses you. You're right, he'd rather mourn you knowing what it feels like to love you. What it feels like to kiss you, wake up beside you, have you trembling beneath him. He thinks about how it would feel to spend the rest of his life having to wonder and realizes how cruel it would be to sentence you to the same fate if something happens to him.

In a split second, Bradley's entire world shifts. He lurches forward and his lips meet yours in a bruising kiss. His broad arms wrap around you and pull you up into his lap. You don't hesitate to kiss back, tangling your hands in his mop of curls and pulling at the hair on the nape of his neck. He licks your bottom lip and you part your mouth to allow him access. His tongue massages yours and he internally scolds himself when he realizes he could have been doing this all along.

You pull back after a couple minutes, gasping for air. Bradley lays down, pulling you with him. The two of you stay like this, hearts and minds racing. There's a comfortable silence as you process what this means.

Neither of you feels the need to say anything, there's a mutual understanding that everything just changed. You both know that everything could be ripped from your hands in a matter of seconds, but you don't care. You're his and he's yours. Nothing else matters.

#bradley bradshaw #bradley bradshaw x reader #bradley bradshaw imagine #Bradley Bradshaw topgun #bradley bradshaw angst #rooster top gun #rooster x reader #rooster imagine #rooster angst #top gun imagine #top gun maverick #top gun angst

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sanshoney · 6 months

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father & male!child!reader

reader is 10, father is 38

no plot, just general fluff

shout out to boys who never had a healthy father figure in their life

(intentional lowercase, y/n is not used)

– being a divorced father with a 10 year old is a bit difficult, william can tell this much. working overtime to maintain the middle class life both for himself and his child is more than exhausting. but at the end of the day, it's all worth it. everything for his darling boy, right?

– sometimes, he can't manage to pick you up from school, so he asks his best friend, jake, to do that. luckily, jake is a sweetheart and you warmed up to him pretty quickly. he's kinda your best friend too, at this point.

– everytime he comes home, tired, hungry and grumpy from work, you never fail to make him smile. the way you jump up from the couch, scream "daddy!" and run into his arms gets him everytime. he lifts you up and spins you around giggling. you always giggle along with him, wrapping your legs around his torso for extra safety. "hi, sweetheart. how's my darling boy doing, hm?" he kisses your forehead and cheeks lovingly.

– he's a busy man, but he always makes sure to have time for you. father-son weekends are a must, where you basically do anything together. the keyword is "together". you could watchim movies, go to the playground, draw together or even cook (you being his "little assistant", as he calls you, because he's obviously not gonna let you near to the stove), all that matters is that you're having a good time with your father.

– in your eyes, he's the one who knows everything. when you have a question, you ask it from him. when he's not around, jake would do, sure, but he's the main source of your knowledge. you always say that everything you know, you know it from him. it doesn't matter that you learnt reading, still learning counting and numbers in school, you deny it all. you always tell will that he's much better than school and you could spend your whole life having knowledge only from him. he only laughs and pats your head, "you're too sweet for your own good."

– he makes sure to raise you right, so you'll turn out a mentally healthy and happy person. he teaches you to refrain and not listen to anything that toxic masculinity contains. "having emotions is okay. everyone has them; everyone cries, laughs or gets embarrassed from time to time. feeling sad it's more than okay, my boy. if you need to cry, let it out. im here for you always, sweetie. please rely on me when needed."

– he teaches you about different races and sexualities pretty soon. he wants you to be a respectful and open-minded person. and if happens, that you're not cis or straight, don't hate yourself but instead accept yourself. he really just wants the best for you.

– he also teaches you that being kind and affectionate isn't feminine. hugging or kissing someone you love and fond of it's just a human thing, not a "girl thing". thats why, he always encourages you to kiss or hug him when you'd like to. of course, he doesn't force you - he said that there are people who simply don't like physical touch and you need to respect that. boundaries are meant to be taken seriously, after all.

– he has a habit of calling you by petnames like honey, sweetheart, darling and anything like those. "petnames are a sign of affection. you can use petnames on your romantic partners, or in our case, familiar bonds too. tell me, if you'd like me use a new petname or want me stop the whole thing," he's just so considerate of your feelings.

– "a good man is respectful, loving and kind. these are the main qualities of a healthy person."

– he makes sure to compliment and praise you a lot. he wants you to have a healthy confidence - you're perfect, after all. in his eyes, at least. "that's my boy", "you did such a good job, darling. im so, so proud of you", "look at you being so pretty in your new tee. you're beautiful, my sweet". he always makes you feel so good and warm. that's why, you compliment him back. "daddy, your new shirt looks really nice on you", "daddy, you look so handsome today".

– but of course, both of you compliment each other's personalities as well. "my boy, it was so kind of you to say that about jake. im so proud to have such an endearing little boy like you". "honey, you are so clever. not many kids know this. you're quick to learn. im very proud of you, dear". there are times, when wills especially emotional. he can give a long, loving speech about his unconditional love for you.

you're laying on your father's chest, your head burried in his neck. he's slowly rubbing your back and hums a familiar melody. you're not sure what it is tho. you're on the verge of falling asleep, when you suddenly hear wills voice.

"darling?" his voice is soft, gentle in case you're already sleeping. "hmm?" "you know i love you very much, right?" "i love you too, daddy." "and you know im always proud of you? im always gonna be proud of you, no matter what you do. even if you make mistakes, you're perfect for me. everytime i look at you i just... feel so much love towards you. my sweet, adorable boy. you're so kind, clever and affectionate. you're my pride and joy." he kisses your forehead. you feel yourself blushing, hearing your daddy's loving words always being a treat. and you're having a lot of treats. "you're worth every single overworked day, every frown that paints my face less friendly. coming home to you is what keeps me going. feeling your little arms and legs wrapped around my body makes me happy beyond words. im so happy to have a son like you..." his voice cracks and you can see his eyes glisten. he's so full of emotions right now.

you lift your head up from his chest quickly, worried. "please don't cry, daddy... you make me happy too. i love you too. please don't be sad." you say softly, rubbing his cheeks clumsily and looking at him with your doe eyes. he can't help but smile at your sweetness. "baby, im not sad. i feel the opposite, actually. these are tears of happiness."

you frown at him confused. if he's happy, why is he crying? isn't crying a bad thing? you decide, it doesn't matter. you just want to comfort him, like he always does with you. you press soft kisses to his whole face, leaving a bit of your molecules on his skin. he smiles gently and if anything, he just wants to cry harder now. he can't believe he has got such an angel in his life. "you're a blessing. an angel descended from heaven. i can't believe i have such a miracle in my arms like you..." he starts cradling you. "d-daddy..." you blush again. sometimes you wonder what did you ever do to deserve him. "im not an angel..." "you are. my little angel." he grins happily and covers your face in soft kisses, giving you back the favor from earlier. you smile sheepishly, basking in your father's love. it feels almost natural, really.

you can't help but wonder what would it be like, if you had a different parent, someone meaner and crueler. but the thing is, you don't have to worry about that. all that matters is that you have the perfect father, the kinda one shown in tv. and you couldn't be happier.

hope you enjoyed!! ♡

#Spotify #x reader #x male reader #x child reader #father #fluff #oc #oc x reader #oc x male reader #drabble

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ssaaaronmontgomery · 9 months

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HIII i was scrolling through ig and i came across this video and i immediately thought of aaron when he's away from a case and then reader and their kids facetime him AAAAAAA IT'S SO CUTE I LOVE DAD!AARON SM🥰🥰💗💗 (also im new to the fandom and this is my first time requesting and i love your stories sm anyways have a nice day/evening ahead!) https://www.instagram.com/reel/Cv-QhCIAx7R/?igshid=MzRlODBiNWFlZA==

Missing You

Warnings: Mentions of cases, a little sad stuff because he can't be home :(, much fluff and happy stuff 🥰, not proofread, let me know if I missed anything<3

Word count: 943

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x fem!reader

A/n: Hi darling! Thank you so much for coming to me with your first request 🥹🫶. I hope you like it 🥰. That video was so adorable by the way and Aaron would definitely do that 😭 I love our man ��.

Forever tags: @greg-montgomery @boredelle @hotchsdoormat @ssahotchnerr @cr1minalskies @beardedhotchh @hotchnerbau @ssamorganhotchner @mrs-ssa-hotch @canuck-eh @luvehotch @callm3c0nfus3d

Hotch: @14buddy22 @pastanoodles11 @htchnr

Let me know if you want to be added to my tags 🫶

Whenever Aaron is away on a case you all miss him dearly just as he misses you. He does his best to keep in contact with you throughout his day and then before the kiddos go to bed he tries to make sure he can facetime you all before they go to sleep.

The little Hotchner bugs are always excited when they get to see their dad even if it's only over a video call. He still manages to make it fun for all of you even if he can't actually be there. It's always a nice way to end his day. It's more than just missing you all but he also needs to make sure his little family is okay. Especially if it's a case involving kids. He always calls more when children are involved.

"Daddy's calling! Answer it answer it!" Your little girl is yelling excitedly when Aaron's contact pops up and you immediately press the answer button. When his face shows on the screen you smile and wave at him before the little Hotchner bugs steal the device from you, not that you mind.

"Daddy! Look look! I made this for you for when you come back home!" Little girl Hotchner holds up a drawing she had made earlier that day. It's the four of you, or at least it's supposed to be. It's really just four colourful blobs. One is you, another is Aaron, and the other two are her and Jack.

"And I made this for you in school!" Jack shows Aaron his own art piece which is definitely easier to make out but both are equally loved by you and Aaron.

"Those are both beautiful! They should be in an art museum." Aaron smiles big and it warms your heart.

You all tell Aaron about how your day went and he listens with that same grin as his little bugs ramble on and on happily. Jack's sister tends to go off topic more often than not but Aaron doesn't mind. Neither of you do. He's just happy to hear their voices and see their faces.

"Daddy what happened! You look like a kitty!" Your little girl exclaims when the face of an animated cat covers Aaron's and moves when he turns his head or talks. You're giggling as he talks to them and pretends not to know what they're talking about. Then it turns to a dog and Jack laughs as your little girl gets a confused, but joyful expression on her face.

"Daddy, can you do a T-rex? Please?" Jack asked as he looks at the screen in front of you all.

"Oh no. What's that sound?" You can hear what you think is Aaron imitating a dinosaur and then the dog face goes away and is replaced by Jack's request.

"Rawr!" All three of you giggle when you see it and you hear Aaron's big laugh come through the speaker and your heart flutters at the sound. You miss him but you understand he can't be there as much as you all wish he could and that's why you always make as much time for things like this as you all can when he's away. It's important to all of you that you spend time together even if it's just a video call. It's still special to all of you.

Eventually you have to end the call because the little loves need to go to sleep, everyone is disappointed and they both bed for five more minutes. Of course you give in. They miss Aaron and you won't deny them that time with him as long as it's not insanely late and as long as he doesn't need to leave so he can work.

After the five minutes is up, Aaron tells them it's time for bed and they both frown but nod in understanding.

"I miss you all and I love you. I want you both to be good for your mother, okay? I should be home in a couple of days and then we can do whatever you want. How does that sound?" He smiles at the end and they both cheer up and nod eagerly.

After you all say goodbye and hang up you don't get them ready to go to sleep right away. Instead you all make a little video telling Aaron you love him and saying good night then send it to him. You know he feels a little down when you have to end the call and you want him to have something to bring his spirits up a little bit.

That's when you finally get the Hotchner babes ready and give them their nightly forehead kiss good night. You always give them both two kisses each when Aaron is away. One from you and one from him. Which they both return to you. One for you and one for their dad.

It's hard to be away from Aaron but you know it's even harder for him. When he's away you still have the little ones. It always makes you sad so you're constantly sending him photos and videos of you and your sweethearts so he still has some of the feeling of being home. It helps him get through those rough cases and he saves every single memory you send him.

When he finally gets home he's been so kept up with everything from the calls and messages that it almost feels like he wasn't even away. You make sure to keep him well informed on all three of you so he doesn't feel like he's missing out as much and he's incredibly grateful to you for it.

#anon🩶#aaron hotchner #hotch #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner x fem!reader #aaron hotchner x female reader #aaron hotchner x you #hotch x reader #hotch x fem!reader #hotch x female reader #hotch x you #aaron hotchner blurb #hotch blurb #aaron hotchner drabble #hotch drabble #dad!hotch #mon answers🩷#hotch🌜

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anime-grimmy-art · 5 months

Text

It’s this time of the year again, folks. Time to wrap up the art Ive made in the last 12 months in another Year in Review! I’ve noticed that this is my fifth Year in Review in a row, so I’ll be making an extra post looking back on the progress in those last 5 years!

I've got a lot to say about this year, but purely art wise, I've gone all when it comes to comics, damn! I've kinda found a format that is messy, and therefore more time efficient, yet still looks good. I even made 2 animatics and lotsa shorts/reels! All that on top of opening coms twice, and, oh yeah, MAKING A WHOLE ASS 4MIN ANIMATION ON MY OWN.

How is my hand still alive.

2023 has been….interesting, to say the least. The first half year I was working on my thesis project, aka making an animated short all on my own (in the art department), which makes it honestly surprising how much I managed to churn out between animating. Trigun rly did have me in a choke hold.

Summer was a bit more spotty, esp. with me not being able to draw anything during August as I was writing my thesis (and doing commissions). And towards the end of the year, Kingdom Hearts tried to save me, but alas, Genshin Impact has finally sunk its teeth into me and dragged me to the bottom of the rabbit hole. It all started with me watching a story summary and lore videos while I was sick after my thesis and I was too intrigued to not dig deeper and well, first I fell in love with Kaeya and then the ships started dropping in left and right.

I’m not gonna lie, the last few months have been weird. I finished my masters in October, and have been on job hunt since, sadly without success so far. I’m existing in this weird limbo of still not grasping I’m not a student anymore after 18 years in education, not really being able to accept I’m an adult, yet desperately trying to find something so I can make a routine, cos rn Im too scared to build a rhythm as I know I’ll have a so much harder time readjusting again. It’s left me in a weird emotional state, where most of the time I feel fine, but when it counts, there’s just, nothing. No joy at getting my diploma, no anticipation to finally go to a convention again, neither any sadness hearing my grandfather died. It frustrates me that it extends to my art as well, there’s excitement over ideas and concepts, but no motivation to pick up the pencil, which makes me either not finish art at all or making so many shortcuts and just ending up with sth not satisfactory to me since it’s not the idea I sought after.

Tho, not everything is doom and gloom. I DID finish a whole ass short animation and got my masters degree, that IS sth to be proud of. Also, while Im struggling at drawing, I’ve also kinda started integrating my shortcuts into my style and some stuff I’ve thrown together actually turns out real good nowadays. Also, and this might be a bit of a weird one, I’m so fucking happy to know I can still enjoy gay ships. I’ve been a bit uncertain over the last few years because when I was around 16-18, I had a real big yaoi phase, which mostly came from the fact so much stuff came out that tickled my brain in the right way (Free, Haikyuu, etc.). But over the years, my enthusiasm died down, and I even started to resent some ships because it’s all some fandoms produced. I often found myself liking a hetero ship more than the popular gay ship, which really made me not wanna stick around because I did not care for most fanart and you can only go through a tag with art you don’t care about so long before you lose interest. I think in retrospect that it rly had nothing to do with the ships being gay ships but rather cos the fans just shoved it in your face when you didn’t care (and shipping culture nowadays also can get real scary). But I’m so happy to see I can still get obsessed with a ship and it’s all thanks to Haikaveh/Kavetham. It really just needed the right flavour for me to dig in again. And oh my god, I FINALLY like a ship with a SHIT TON of art and fanfictions, no more scrounging the crumbs from the bottom of the barrel.

Anyways, enough lamenting. Here’s to hoping I can bite my tongue and get shit started properly in 2024, and that my brainrots may make me obsessed enough to churn out an obscene amount of fanart again.

#art year in review #anime-grimmy #fanart #sketch #comic #animatic #undertale #trigun #legend of zelda #monster hunter #kingdom hearts #undead unluck #genshin impact

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beefboyandbabygirl · 11 months

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Judas in the Window (18+)

pairing: priest(apprentice)!chan x fem!collegestudent!reader

genre: ANGST ANGST and smut (mdni), childhood best friends to..?

description: you return home from college, after not seeing your old town for three years. your childhood best friend has been waiting for you.

warnings: no. genuinely so sad. religious guilt, blasphemy ig, slutshaming, degradation (f. receiving), praise (f. receiving), desperation, fingering (f. receiving), humiliation, unprotected sex (do not do this shit), brief breeding kink, mentions of past unhappiness, reader has beef with her old self fr, alcohol consumption, pet names (darling, baby, some more i dont recall), LOTS of biblical references, i warned you this is incredibly sad and wether it's a good ending is certainly debatable, reader has both her parents (if u dont, same, just imagine the dad as adam sandler and the mom as gwendoline christie), the dad is the best character x

quotes from my proofreader: "i have a new pair of panties at the ready", "im horny and angry, some say hangry", "AAAAAA"

wordcount: 8.3k

a/n: it is 2:30 am. my proofreader is asleep and i might go crazy if i dont post this now, so if there are any mistakes in the last part i am sorry, ill fix it later lmao

Your room hasn’t changed a bit.

You’re not sure why the sight knocks the wind out of you. You suppose you’d thought your parents might do something with it - maybe give your dad a “man cave” or whatever other pained, heteronormative solution to hating each other. But it’s the same exact thing. Your bed, horrible orange wood, pink princess sheets, and your desk right beside you where you stand in the doorway, all cluttered with glitter pens and marker sets and a small mirror.

“Isn’t this great, honey?” your mom squeals, old hands squeezing your shoulders. It takes you a second to reply. You’re not even sure you want to step inside the room. “Yeah, yeah, it’s great, mom.”

“I’m getting dinner ready, you just settle yourself in!” she says, practically vibrating at your presence. She’s so happy, it jabs at your stomach with guilt, that you can’t even bring yourself to enter. You watch her disappear down the stairs, making a funny face when she catches your eye. You half-smile tiredly. Then you’re looking at it again.

It’s like a totally closed off time capsule. Your fingers play with the doorframe, looking at the stains in the carpet, that you vividly remember creating as a clumsy child. You see the stickers on your closet-door, and the faint outline of the stickers you’d taken down. You see toys, whose names you remember, you see terrible drawings over your bed, hung with glitter tape, and you see yourself. The you that you were certain you’d stuck in the dirt and buried. The one you’d worked over-over-overtime to never see again. She was somehow alive and well in this room. A part of you roamed with a horde of anxiety, birthed by the thought that once you entered, you and her would fuse together, and all the flaws you’d had would be reignited, and you would be miserable again.

“You not going in, champ?” you jump at your father’s voice behind you. You turn to see him exiting your parents’ bedroom, taking heavy, loggy steps towards the staircase. You shake your head: “No, I am, it’s just..” you pause and turn back to the room, letting out a heavy sigh. “It’s weird.”

Your father pauses. He has his reading glasses pushed all the way down to the tip of his nose, so he leans his head back and squints to study you. “Well- well- well, why don’t you just try out for a bit, champ, and if you don’t like it, Uh, well, we’ll situate you on the couch. How’s- how’s that sound?”

You smile softly. “Sure.”

“Alright, champ,” he pats your back and finally starts his descent down the stairs.

You nod to yourself and exhale deeply, face now turned back to the super menacing not-at-all-menacing room before you. Your fears are deeply irrational. You wouldn’t just revert back to your old self. Once you’re half believing it, you finally break the barrier, and take a step inside.

It’s not so bad after all. Everything is very still. Dust kicked up from your presence slows down around you. You’re standing under the overhead lamp, and it’s not that bad. Not so bad. You drop your duffel bag and sit down on your bed.

You feel a lot bigger, sitting with bent knees in the plush duvet. You recognize that you can’t be that much bigger than when you last sat here, 18 years old, heading off to college in the big city. And this was the kind of town where neighbors a dozen houses over came to see you off, waving at you with big smiles on their faces, an american flag hoisted up to the blue sky. You remember the grins stretched on their faces, and how you’d been panicked to start the ignition on the car. They’d looked like they were made of wax.

Movement flashes in your peripheral. You turn your head, brushing hair out of the way. The movement is coming from the crack in the curtains. Like Moses parting the red sea, your fingers delicately brush the flimsy fabrics away. You know exactly what - who - you’re about to see. Your heart presses, red and wet, into your throat.

Chan.

He’s there in the window directly across from yours. You almost don’t recognize him at first. He’s shirtless, pacing around and picking things off the floor, and, God, he’d gotten so big. His arms are so shapely and firm and his stomach is toned and when he turns his back to you, you see how it ripples with muscle, and your mouth is drooping open in shock.

This is Chan, you try to remember (memories flit of him in his dad’s baseball caps, him on the playground, or on the sandy paths that fade out from the roads on the outskirts of town), but grounding yourself in the memories of him as a kid only serves to hurt you. No, you decide, eyeing his naked torso through the glass, better remember him like this. Like an adult who has faults and wrongs, not an innocent child that you abandon in your haste to grow up.

He’s looking at you. Suddenly, he’s fucking looking at you. For a moment it seems like he’s confused, maybe fighting with the danger of recognizing you as a real, actual person in the window. Then his eyes are softened and he’s hunched over the paneled window, face split in half as he stares back at you. He used to fit so easily in the frame of that window - now you watch his shoulders press against the framework, unable to squeeze in.

Your cheeks are burning when you squeeze your eyes shut and smile apologetically. Your childhood best friend who you hadn’t seen in three years had just caught you staring at his fucking abs through his window. You fear he’ll take offense, especially considering how you’d left things off with him, but when you open your eyes, he’s grinning softly and shaking his head.

He walks away from the small window, and you take this as your cue to leave as well. You fall back on the bed and groan pathetically, body jittery with embarrassment.

“Y/n, sweetheart! Dinner now!” your mom caws from the floor beneath you and you feel 16 again. This was what you didn’t want. All the power you had accumulated was slipping through your fingers by the minute.

It’s just five days, you remind yourself. Just five, measly days.

“Coming, mom!” _____________________________

The fucking bell tower is going. Over and over again and it shouldn’t be this loud, you’re not that close to the church, but it is.

You lie flat on your back in the smoldering dark, completely still. It’s so loud it feels like it’s coming from inside your head. Like the curved, rusted sides of it are bashing against your skull. You don’t understand how anyone could sleep through this. You don’t understand how Chan could stay here all these years. Maybe that’s just because you couldn’t see yourself here.

You don’t want to think about Chan anymore, but for whatever reason - you can’t decide if it was seeing him (so manly) so suddenly, or if it’s the ever-ringing bell in the distance, like a marker of the apocalypse - he won’t leave your mind tonight. Part of you understood that what had happened with you and Chan was natural, and not particularly anyone’s fault. So why did you still carry the heavy burden of guilt? Guilt that pinched at your nerve endings like the delicate tunes in a children’s music box.

You and Chan had met as children in church. It didn’t take long for you to be best friends. You’d sit next to each other on the neatly lined benches during sermon, then you’d tumble in the grass outside, and then you’d go to his house and play until dinner, after which you’d see each other again, talking from window to window. You spent very nearly every moment with him.

Then you grew apart.

It was a slow death. Seeing each other became a sort of horrific reminder that it was ending, no longer bound by church or friendship, but a mutual understanding. There’d be a sort of solemn silence whenever you locked eyes. Is this the last time? You’d wonder, and the longer it went on, the more you started to wish that it was.

And then it was.

It was your fault. You were 13 and suddenly you were wearing makeup and your dresses were getting shorter, and you wished you were much older than you were. You started forgetting the principles they’d taught you in church. Or maybe you’d never really learnt it, only tolerated it for Chan. But years passed and by the time you were sixteen, you were being kissed and groped at parties and you were having sex in cars and smearing your lipstick on the rims of shot glasses.

And Chan was.. Well, Chan. Chan was a skinny, virgin christian. And you liked him, but suddenly there wasn’t much to talk about. From one day to the next, all discussable topics evaporated in your hand, and talking to Chan became a stumbling, bumbling mess.

After that you were just…. Gone. 18 years old disappearing down the dirt roads in the 2009 Toyota Tacoma, that you’d gotten for your sweet sixteen. Chan was standing on the roadside that day, but he wasn’t sure you saw him. Your wheels kicked up dust and that was all you left behind. A cloud of sand for him to grab at, looking lost in between your tire tracks. At that moment it felt like those last years were two seconds. You just slipped right out of his hands.

Lying in bed and your heart is so heavy. Maybe it isn’t Chan, you conclude. Maybe it’s what he represented. The face of the church; the face of goodness, of purity; the face of the life you deselected.

The cry of the bell tower becomes a song in the night. You fall asleep in the devil’s hour. _____________________________

The following day you’re reexploring. The air is dry and the sun beating down on your shoulders. You’re walking through the suburbs and then later the small town square made up of mostly parking lots. You feel peregrine, but trudging through on the pavement, it becomes clear you’re the only one who feels this way.

Every citizen, every single one of them - in polos, in flower-print dresses, in sandals, in sunglasses - stops you to welcome you back home. They’re shaking your shoulders and they recognize you and can tell you your name and your age, and they say that it’s good you found your way back. Every interaction leaves you more depressed than the last. You’re ducking your head, crumpled up like an unsent love letter.

Your steps are heavy, your own sandals dragging into the uneven tiles of the square. Then you’re lifting your head from the ground, and your feet have betrayed you.

You’re standing in the opening to another street of storefronts, and 5 rows of neatly planted trees down, the church sprouts from the earth like a stake.

It’s not just any small town church. A few steps lead up to a plateau, supported by large, white beams. They may not be Roman, but they’re there, and they’re made of smooth concrete. The building itself is made of red brick, although the color varies and looks dappled. Each side of the church has two stained glass windows, which you remember from your childhood. The door, huge and oaken, ends in a point right beneath a round window, and the bell tower shoots up, a mighty cross at its peak.

You’re left a little breathless at it. You don’t remember it being so menacing. But there’s also something beautiful about it. How it looks at you like it’ll kill you. And how blunt it is about it. You’re blinking at it and wondering how you got here. It’s as if something’s possessed you, because despite knowing better, you begin to take calm steps towards it, eyes transfixed and soulless.

You’re walking into the courtyard, gravel underfoot, and then you’re traversing up the steps, fingers barely brushing over the railing. Idling forward, you’re opening the door.

“And when Mary birthed the-”

Crrrrreeeeeeeaaaaaaaaak!

Every head snaps towards you, as you’re cracking the door open, and the trance lifts from you. Oh, shit. Your gaze grazes over the stacked benches, smiling apologetically and bopping your head.

You clear your throat. “I’m-”

You lock eyes with the priest, whose service you just interrupted, where he’s standing before the crowd, bible in hand.

It’s Chan.

“I’m sorry,” you squeak, voice now much meeker, and you don’t even know what to do, so you just step inside and sit down on the nearest bench. Slowly (and with low scoffs) the sea of heads turn around. One pair of eyes don’t leave you though. Chan studies you for several seconds longer, searching for something in your eyes, but you’re looking away. You just want him to continue. He does.

This is crazy, you think, and you can hardly believe you’re hearing his voice say those words, and it’s him in the clerical shirt. You supposed it made sense. You supposed you understood. But actually you didn’t, not at all. Not when he was supposed to live and change and evolve and here he is years later, dedicating his life to the one and only thing he knows!

You’re tuning out the rest of his talk, vaguely aware of how his eyes flit over to you a little too frequently. Soon enough you’re absently clasping your hands together in a prayer and then people are lining up to thank Chan for his stellar service.

You watch them from your seat, debating whether or not to leave without talking to him. Leaving wasn’t a bad idea. You were only gonna be in town for a week more, surely, you could avoid him until then.

But you know you won’t do that. You want to talk to Chan. You want to feel his hand in your own. Partially you felt like maybe you could save him from just being a decoration to this hellscape for the rest of his life. You’re not sure you could go on living your life, when you know he’s just back here - still here.

So there you are, planted in the line and hoping to save him from some dull future, and he’s shaking hands and smiling, but you can see how he eyes you, coming up on the line.

“Thank you, Chan,” you smile warmly, and his hand is grabbing yours and it’s so soft and so big. He’s smiling too. Then you’re coughing and correcting yourself: “Uh- Father. Chan.”

He laughs at your sputtering, clapping your hand between his two: “Oh, thank you, sister.” Emphasizing with pursed lips and wide eyes. You laugh along a little, but it’s strained.

His smile fades slowly, and his face relaxes. He wants to say more. His fingers are still pulling your hand to his, and you just keep shaking it, because if you stop, it’ll be weird. Officially.

“Oh, do you two know each other?” A bobbed woman from behind you in line is purring, unfamiliar hand on your back, and she doesn’t wait for you to answer before she’s talking again: “So, how do you know each other?”

“Childhood. Friends,” Chan stammers, almost looking at you for confirmation, and you’re nodding along when the woman “ah’s” and “ooh’s”. “Oh, that’s wonderful, you guys!” And then you’re listening to her talk about some trailer down in Cassandra, and how her brother is fixing it up with his old friend, but there’s water damage in the lining of the room, and it’ll mold if they’re not careful, and it’s such useless information, you’re wondering how you’ll ever forget it.

“Mrs. Lark, uh, I think my,” he looks at you, lips pursed, “my friend here needs to go, so..”

Mrs. Lark gasps, embarrassed: “Oh, I’m sorry, you’re right, I’m babbling,” and usually Chan would reassure her that she wasn’t, but he has more urgent matters on his hands. “Good day, Mrs. Lark!” he says and sends her off with a bright smile. There’s a few more people in line and Chan sighs a little.

“Can you-” he’s a little sheepish, suddenly self conscious about the clergy shirt that grips his neck, “Can you wait? Here? Just until I’m done-”

“Yeah,” you say. He smiles gratefully.

Chatter continues behind you with a slight echo in the large room. You wait by one of the stained glass windows, arms around yourself as you stare up at it. Each and every window was a different biblical figure, made up of small shards of colored glass. You always found it strange, looking back, how your small town church had this grand artwork. The eyes of the window peer down at you.

“Judas,” Chan comments, planting himself beside you. His voice echoes slightly in the now empty church. The whole place is both too big and too small for the both of you. “It’s an interesting choice.”

“What?”

“Why you chose this window over any other,” Chan breathes, eyes darting down to you, and he’s looking at you very intensely. Then, it dissipates: “I’m also drawn to this one.”

A pause.

“I wonder why they’d make this,” you quip, feeling small beside him. “I think whoever made this wanted all sides of Jesus’ story illustrated,” Chan says. You shrug. “If it were me, I wouldn’t.”

Chan tilts his head to the side and looks at you again. Your cheeks burn, so you smile a little cheekily. “Was that not the right thing to say?”

Chan’s smile is gentle and bemused - almost adoring. “There’s nothing you can say in here that is wrong.”

“I don’t think that’s true,” you laugh and Chan follows along. “Oh, you don’t?” You’re both laughing together, glee filling the crevices of the holy place, while Judas eyes you from the window. Your laughter dies down again, and when the silence returns, your heart clenches nervously. There’s a beat.

“You keep busy?” you ask and the two of you are now facing each other. He sighs and nods, looking around. “Yeah, yeah, I got a.. Like a church get-together thing in, like, two days. I’ll be.. Preaching."

“Preaching,” you repeat, smile a little too tight. You wish you could say he didn’t notice. “Big Mr. Priest..”

He laughs: “Technically I’m a priest apprentice,” he says, arms crossing over his chest. You roll your eyes. “So humble.”

“What about you? Keep busy?”

“Yeah, college,” you sigh. “You done?” he asks and you shake your head. “I wish.”

His expression softens until he’s frowning. You want to squirm under his gaze, only because he looks so sincere and worried and you haven’t seen each other in three years. “You look tired.”

“That’s not-” you begin, covering the slight ache in your heart with a laugh, “I just- Couldn’t sleep last night.”

“I thought living in the big city had you sleeping like a rock when you got to our quiet town,” he teases with a half-smile.

You shake your head, looking upwards at the ceiling. “It was that bell tower, just ringing, all night.” You shrug. Chan’s brows furrow and he looks up as well, as if he’d be able to see it through the tile roof.

“The…” he trails off, sounding lost, “The bell tower doesn’t ring at nig-”

Beep! Beep!

“Shit- sorry!” you curse, when your phone goes off loudly. Chan stands still studying you, while you squint at your phone. “I think- I think I gotta go.”

“Uh, yeah, sure,” he coughs, index finger rubbing over his taut knuckles. You’re pushing your phone into your back pocket again, when he reaches an arm out to you. “Uh-” he pulls back self-consciously, “Would you want to-.. Maybe, come to dinner at my place? Tomorrow?”

You’re a little taken aback, looking at him with a softly open mouth for a moment. “Uh,” you fight back a wide smile, “Yeah, sure. I’d- I’d like that.”

“Great,” Chan smiles too and nods. “Just- just at the house right next door, or?-”

“Yeah, yeah, it’s that one. Still,” Chan blushes breathlessly. You chuckle awkwardly. “Okay.”

“Okay. See you then.” _____________________________

You’re not sure why the prospect of having dinner with Chan has you so nervous. And it is just a dinner, you remind yourself, as you’re picking out your dress, just two friends catching up. After some 45 minute debate you pick out a pretty sundress.

You’d like to think there’s more to it than just the fact that Chan is suddenly very pretty and muscular. Maybe it’s the chance to make a wrong right. Maybe it’s to find out who this boy is, that was a key part of your life for so many years. Maybe you think you can change him.

Either way you’re just waiting for it all day, ignoring your dad trying to lure you out with trick shots from your garage. “HIYA!” he screams, throwing ping pong balls at your window all afternoon.

At 6:30 PM you’re standing at his door and hoping you don’t look too dolled up. His house also looks mostly identical to your memory of it. There’s something off about it though, and you study it momentarily, only to realize the front garden has overgrown. The grass comes up jagged and sharp, and the bushes bulge over the fence gate, brushing you when you waddle inside. You click the doorbell, wait a few seconds, and then begin to suspect that it didn’t work. Then you knock and you hear him fumbling around inside: “Coming!”

He opens the door (with some struggle), and then you’re standing before each other. He’s so domestic, in a striped, brown sweater and dark blue jeans, and curly hair is framing his face like a crown.

“Hi.”

He gives you a once over, smiling shyly: “You look great.”

“Thank you,” you bow a little, “you too.”

Then he’s letting you inside and you’re kicking off your shoes haphazardly, while he fusses back to the kitchen. “I made bolognese, if you don’t mind!” he calls and when you enter into the living space, he’s stirring a pan vigorously. You giggle a little, smile falling at the sight of a cross on the wall behind you. “Uh, yeah, of course.”

Slurping tomato-sauced pasta and drinking a half-expensive wine that Chan had bought, you two laugh together. You mostly talk about when you were kids, then he’s talking about joining the church and you’re talking about college.

“Is it hard? Out there?” Chan slurs a little, both of you tipsy and warm from the wine, having moved to the couch after eating. Now, full and face burning hot, you’re looking at each other differently. Chan’s got one arm on the couch rest, the other swirling the wine in his glass. He’s smirking a little and you hate how hot he is.

“It’s.. Exciting,” you counter, a little confused at his tone. He's close enough to radiate warmth onto you, when his eyes dip down to your lips for a second. “Yeah. You like exciting,” he drinks down the rest of his wine and sets the glass on the couch table. The moon, that’s been slowly traversing the star-speckled sky, gives the glass a faint halo. Chan basks in the moonlight, half lit and half shadowed.

“I do. I do like exciting,” you giggle dumbly, still unsure where he’s steering the conversation. Chan smiles adoringly, because there you are sitting all blushing and warm in a sundress on his couch. The warmth disappears from his eyes then.

“Was it exciting to watch me undress?”

Oh.

Shit.

You almost spit out a half-drunken sip of wine, gulping it down painfully and shaking your head. You set the glass down. “Chan! I’m-” you’re scrambling, “I’m really, really sorry. I- I was just- It wasn’t about your body, I was thinking about-”

“Shut up.”

Your mouth falls agape at his tone, offended and caught off guard. He’s still beside you, eyes much sharper than you remember, much colder. “Stop treating me like I’m still a kid.”

“Well, you haven’t changed much, Chan,” you scoff.

“Yeah, that’s why you were looking at me through your fucking window,” he scoffs as well, “because I haven’t changed.”

You sit in quiet disbelief, trying to stay mad when his face is so pretty and so close to yours, and his jaw is clenched and his cheeks are flushed from the wine. You’re deciding whether to spit back or diffuse the situation. “Look, I don’t know what you want me to say. I’m sorry.”

The hand that was previously holding his glass lands on your knee. He leans in even further and you smell the sour air of wine on his breath. You shudder under his touch when he whispers: “I want you to be honest with me.”

You’re looking up at him with wide eyes, heart beating in your chest like nails being knocked into wood. “Tell me what you want from Father Chan,” he muses, smirking slightly, while his thumb brushes back and forth on your knee.

You’re completely out of breath and squeezing your thighs together, as slick begins to build up in your panties. “Come on,” he encourages, “Let it out. Tell Channie what you want.”

“I want,” you’re shaking in humiliation, gaze cast onto the floor, “I want you to touch me.”

“Come again?” he teases, grinning.

“Please touch me, Chan.”

“There you go,” he mutters and finally gives in, hand brushing the skirt of your dress up your thighs, until your white, cotton panties are visible to him. The sight of you is so pornographic, he groans and dips his head into your neck. “Spread your legs for me, baby.”

And you do, one of them drooping over his legs, while the other bends on the couch beside you. You’re already so worked up, because Chan is so beautiful and you never, ever thought you’d experience him like this. “Shh, shh, calm down, pretty girl,” he kisses your temple, as his fingers brush over your clothed core.

“Baby,” he tuts disapprovingly, “you’ve soaked through your panties.”

You can only whine as his fingertips ghost along your dripping slit, and he’s nosing into your cheek like a big puppy. “‘M sorry,” you hiccup, and he grins and kisses your lips tenderly. “So polite for me.”

He finally dips his hand into your panties, fingers rubbing circles into your pussy. You’re mewling and thrashing into his chest, basking in the sound of his strangled moan, when you thrash the leg in his lap and brush over his hard cock.

His fingers move lower to dance along your slit and you grab his wrist strenuously. He hums a little. “Gonna put my fingers in your pussy and my tongue in your mouth now,” he’s mumbling and you can’t tell if he’s telling you or himself, but either way he does as promised, two fingers plunging into your sopping wet heat, while he dips his tongue in your hot mouth.

You're moaning into his lips. He’s kissing you so sloppily, spit spilling down both of your chins, and noses rubbing together, breathing scorching air into each other. His fingers are pumping in and out of you, then curling into that sweet spongy spot inside you.

“Fuck!” you cry when he pulls away breathlessly, “so, so, so good. Chan- Chan, fuck!”

Your orgasm is building up in your stomach, with a pleasure that is simultaneously torturous. He’s looking at you so intensely, you feel like you might unravel under his gaze. “Fuck, Channie.”

“Yeah? You feel good?” he pauses his words, still curling his fingers in and out of you. His next words are somewhat uneasy: “Is this better than those other guys?”

“Huh?” you mumble, chest arching and his mouth is watering at how inviting it is. “Back then,” he says, and it finally clicks what he’s talking about.

“Pussy so good no wonder they all wanted a piece of you, hm? Such a slut,” he’s rambling now, fingers plunging in and out of you impossibly fast, while his other hand splays over your stomach, thumb tapping your clit. You cry out in ecstasy, unable to form coherent words to respond with.

“But you’re my slut, right?” His voice is raspy and right next to your ear. The thumb tapping your clit begins to rub circles into it. “Y/n,” he’s suddenly very serious, “say you’re my slut.”

“I’m-” your voice crack in humiliation, cheeks fiery and eyes squeezed shut, “I’m your slut!”

“That’s right,” he pants, trying to stop his hips from bucking into your calf. “And my slut is gonna cum on my fucking fingers right now.”

Your orgasm feels otherworldly - maybe godly - and your whole body shakes in his hold, chest bouncing in his face and moans melodic in his living room. Chan works you through it, finally pulling his fingers out when your hands weakly push at his own.

You’re sighing heavily with hair messy and teased, slumped back on his couch. “Holy shit,” you say, grinning from ear to ear, completely dazed. Chan is watching you with a proud smirk and a tent the size of Texas in his pants.

A thought strikes you then, and your grin is fading and your brows are furrowing. “Wait- Wait, Chan? Where are your parents?” you ask suddenly, sitting up and straight and pulling your dress down hastily. You snap your head around self-consciously.

“Relax! Relax!” he laughs, “They don’t live here anymore, I bought the house from them, like, six months ago.”

Your jaw drops. You wait just a second, hoping to catch a cheeky glint in his eyes, that might tell you he’s joking. You find nothing but blackness.

“You bought the house?”

Chan looks at you quizzically, shrugging. “Yeah, I mean, they wanted to move, you know, see new things and I.. I just. Didn’t.”

You can hardly fucking believe your ears.

“Chan!” you cry, frustration blooming in your chest and pounding in your head. “Why did you buy the fucking house? You’re gonna spend the rest of your life paying off the fucking mortgage, and you’re never gonna get out of here!” you shout, flailing your arms at his absurdity.

Chan narrows his eyes at you. “Sorry, city girl, we don’t all wanna pack up and live in a closet space for three years-”

“Wha- Chan, this is not about me! How can you just.. Surrender to this place?” you shout and suddenly he’s raising his voice too. “Surrender?” he repeats, spitting it back at you.

“Yeah! Jesus, even your fucking parents wanted to leave, Chan. But you’re just- You’re gonna live out the rest of your life in this shithole and be some sort of- of priest?!”

“I can’t believe you right now,” he stands up from the couch, and you follow suit. “In what world do you have the morality to come in here and tell me what I’m doing wrong?”

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” you scoff, crossing your arms.

Your voices are echoing in the empty house, wine glasses and sauced plates standing idly on the tables nearby. Your silhouettes are confined to the large living room window, standing on either side of the moon.

“You know what that means, Y/n,” he laughs bitterly. “No, please, tell me,” you invite him challengingly, wondering (or perhaps fearing) whether or not he’d actually go there. He prods at his cheek with his tongue, and hesitates.

“You were a fucking slut, Y/n.” His voice is quieter, maybe ashamed. Tears sting at your eyes, when you look at him incredulously. How could you think you knew this man? How could you think there was anything left to salvage?

“Fuck you, Chan,” you spit, spinning around before the tears can fall. He says nothing, just stands alone in his living room while you dash out his door, hands wrapping around himself.

Exiting his house into the cool, summer air, you realize one thing. The bell tower had been the call of the apocalypse. _____________________________

You were the walls of Jericho that night, crying and tumbling in your childhood sheets, muffling your cries in the fear that he’d hear through his creaked open window. What was this pain, you couldn’t decide. Was it how he stayed steadfast or how you metamorphosed, dying only to return once again?

In the morning, you’re dull and gray. You’re drinking coffee out of your dad’s old tourist shop mug from a visit to Niagara Falls, sitting at the dining table with puffy eyes. Your mom eyes you worriedly from the counter, leaning into your dad to whisper not-so-discreetly.

“Sweetheart, you wanna go with us to church today? They’re having this whole event, the kids’ choir will be there!” she suggests gently and you just want to shrug off all her affection.

“No,” you deadpan. Your mom gives your father a look. He sighs.

“Alright, champ, that’s- that’s your choice,” he nods, mustache scrunching up when he pouts. You sigh, feeling like an asshole. “Sorry, I just-”

“Don’t apologize, sweetheart, you just rest!” your mom shushes you, scrambling around the kitchen, ever in the hunt for some lost appliance. “All that college must wear you out, you should rest while you can, hm?”

They’re gone by noon. You sit in the shadowed corner of your bed, avoiding the strip of light that dances across your room from the crack in the curtain.

You’re bored, scrolling on your phone, cheek puffed up against your pillow, when it slips out of your hands and hits the floor with a loud bump. You groan, feeling like the whole world is against you today, and throw your arm off the bed to grab at it on the floor.

It’s halfway under the bed, and when your fingers finally remark the smooth surface, they brush against something else. It’s hard and it feels dirty. You lift your head to look and tug it out.

It’s your diary.

Phone long forgotten, you lift it carefully, like an old relic, and push open the faded pink cover. You feel like you’re about to snap in half, when your eyes survey the graphite-smudged pages of your horrible, horrible handwriting. The pages emanate a mysterious air that has you leaning back in your seat.

You’re skimming through angst entries, that has you cringing and wanting to put it down, before you freeze suddenly, inhaling sharply at the scribbled out words before you.

‘3. august 2016

God, I miss Chan.’

The words come with the promise of stinging tears in your eyes.

“Fuck you,” you whisper angrily at the page, because you’re crying again, and you close the book and hold onto yourself so tightly that it hurts. “Fuck that. Fuck this.”

It’s perhaps the worst feeling you’ve ever felt. It’s anger, it’s sadness, it’s humiliation, it’s confusion. How did it end like this, you think. It would be so much easier if you were kids again. If he was that dorky kid from your church, who wore his father’s baseball caps and had chubby little hands when he prayed. You can do it better, you think miserably, if you get another chance. But you don’t.

For about fifteen minutes, you curl into yourself and wait for the feeling to go away. It doesn’t. The heavy weight of realization pools in your stomach when you realize you might carry this with you for the rest of your life if you don’t do something. It doesn’t have to end like this.

Suddenly you’re light as a feather, grabbing your jacket and your keys and sprinting out the door and down the street. The cross atop the spire watches you run to it, awaiting you ominously. _____________________________

You’re disheveled and pulled apart when you arrive at the gathering, and for once the townspeople look at you like you’re out of place. You’re late, you know, because people are taking their leave, scattering and dissolving towards the town square, and the entertainment (the kids’ choir), all robed in white, are marching away together.

You’re panting, stumbling further into the church garden, jumping at the sound of grills being closed and rolled away onto the pavement.

“Y/n?” Chan can hardly believe his eyes, when he sees you standing between a bed of lilies. You turn around and see him, melting a little at how tired and sad he looks. “I can’t believe you came,” he whispers, a little sparkle of hope in his gaze. You smile fondly, “Me neither.”

Chan moves to embrace you, but freezes when he suddenly remembers where you are. “Uh, I can’t, I have to-” he stammers, scrambling for a solution, for something better than turning you away, when you’re here, close enough for him to hold. He looks around, gaze following the churchgoers as they pass through the gates, before he’s bopping his head down to whisper to you again: “Go into the church. I’ll be with you in a second.”

You walk through that heavy, wooden door, and when it closes behind you the scrambling of metal and people and footsteps and crying children is gone. With the door, you’re sealed in here, with whatever fate follows.

All the light in the church is filtering through the stained glass windows, and once again you find yourself drawn to him. Judas.

Part of you would expect such an artwork to depict Judas as greedy and grim, as glutinous and gloomy; that he would be hunched over with a pouch of shillings, giggling at his evildoing. But the Judas in the window is so.. Sad.

He’s blue and gray and his eyebrows are upturned and for the life of you, you can’t figure out how the unknown artist must have managed to portray such despair in glass. You stand in the middle of his reflection on the floor, all blue and gray yourself, and you’re not sure it’s really because of the light.

That’s all the church inhabits at that moment. You and Judas, and your shallow breaths, and the stirring of dust in the air. There’s nothing holy in there with you. Just you and him.

You hear the door open to your right. You know it’s Chan, somehow you can just feel it. He must sense something in the air, because he says nothing, just walks up to stand beside you, and only then do you speak again.

“I always felt a bit like Judas,” you muster a breath.

Chan pauses and you can feel him looking at you. “Me too.”

You furrow your brows, and finally look up at him, and there he is in his clerical shirt and his matching pants, his right cheek glowing bright blue. The whole room is so heavy, you lean against the bench behind you.

“That’s not.. That’s not how it’s supposed to be.”

Chan doesn’t ask you to elaborate. He understands. “God made it that way,” he’s nodding with a pained expression on his face, almost as if he’s trying to convince himself. You laugh a little and hate how much love you feel, when Chan half-smiles at the sound.

“God.. Yeah,” you half-gesture to the sky and Chan giggles. Then you’re both quieting down again. “I can’t tell if it was you or God I turned my back on,” you say and you’re looking at Judas again, and how one, jagged hand holds onto his chest.

“Maybe it was both,” Chan says and there’s this unreadable expression on his face. You’re laughing again, cheeks apple-round. “I’m pretty sure it’s blasphemous to compare yourself to God.”

“Yeah?” he laughs, “I think so too.” You’re looking at him again when he’s gulping hard and the joy drains from his face. A small frown curve his lips. “I’m sorry about yesterday, you know.” You look away.

“Me too,” you say. Chan can’t help the way his heart leaps when, without sparing him a glance, you grab his hand in yours and squeeze it. He squeezes back.

He gasps painfully and when you turn to him again, he’s choking back tears, face turning red. “I’m sorry,” he chokes out. “I just wish… Fuck, I mean, we’re too different, aren’t we?”

You nod. “We are.”

“When are you leaving?”

You smile disingenuously, hoping it’ll cheer him up. It doesn’t.

“Tomorrow.”

Chan is crying, there’s no denying it now, no chalking it up to sniffles. Tears, turning yellow from the sun behind Judas’ back, trail down his cheeks and he wipes them aggressively, but they just keep coming. Deep, despaired moans bounce off the ceiling and walls of the church.

“Can I-?” Chan begins, unable to form words between his heart-rattling sobs. “I just- I need to-”

“Yes,” you say, and there’s not a single doubt in your mind, that this is what you both want, as you take a step forward and pull his lips into yours.

Chan’s lips taste like every color of Judas, of blue, of yellow, of gray, of green. Salt hits your tongue when his tears trail down to where you’re connected, and he’s still crying into the kiss, hands finding your waist and clutching so, so hard.

“Please don’t cry,” you whisper in between kisses, “you’re gonna make me cry.”

“I’m sorry,” he says, but he doesn’t stop. He’s too caught up in memorizing the way your body feels under his hands, the way you’re moving against him, the way you’re pulling him by the collar of his clerical shirt, and how your nose feels shoved into his.

His warm hands slide your shirt upwards, burning against your newly exposed skin. You pull away only to tug it over your head. Chan whimpers when he sees your chest, cupped by your bra and he pulls you into his chest to unhook the back, head looming over your shoulder. Ear pressed to his neck, you can feel the way it contracts, when he hiccups.

As soon as he’s done, straps sliding gently down your arms, you’re pouncing on each other again, lips meeting rhythmically in the blued sunlight. Blindly, you’re unbuttoning his clerical shirt, fingers shaking against his chest. His hands clasp over yours soothingly, urging you to slow down.

The whole ordeal is strangely silent, even Chan has stopped crying now, and the only sounds filling the church are the brush of fabric and your muffled moans into each other’s mouths. You’re whining though, when his shirt finally pushes off his shoulders and his torso is right in front of you and under your hands.

You whimper at the sight alone, running your hands over his arms and over his chest down to his abs. Chan smirks at you. “I knew you liked it,” he mumbles to himself, almost childishly.

This comment slows you down, as you’re pulling back to laugh, and you’re both shirtless in front of each other, hearts huge and glowing. Chan smiles at you adoringly while you laugh, face scrunched up and eyes crescents.

“You can’t say that when I’m trying to fuck you,” you say finally, hair a mess on your head and lips pursed to keep yourself from laughing again. Chan loves your dumb face. He takes your hands in his and rubs the palms with his thumbs. “I know.”

“Can I-?”

“Yes,” you whisper, agreeing before he can even get it out. Chan nods and holds you, gently guiding you onto the floor, where your entire body is marbled by the light hitting the glass. Chan stands over you for a moment.

“You’re just gonna stare at me?” you joke, but your arms are sneaking their way up your torso. “Yeah,” Chan responds, but he’s already kneeling down in front of you, moving your arms away.

“You are so beautiful,” he says it as if it almost pains him, but he’s straddling you and fumbling with your jean-buttons, beginning the tedious task of peeling them off your legs. You want to say something snarky, but he has you breathless and blushing, all you can muster is a meek: “Thank you.”

He looks up from his work on your jeans at that, smiling at you fondly.

You kick your jeans off your legs, while he begins to undo the buckle of his own pants, shoving them down his legs at the first opportunity. You’re both almost naked, you in your panties and him in his boxers, and you’re wondering why he’s showing no signs of moving them off you, dick hard and scorching fucking hot against your clothed core. Then he plants his arms on either side of your head, and rolls his hips into yours.

The moan you let out is coming from deep in your fucking soul. Only something godly could pull that out, you decide, sopping fucking wet from the star-like heat it has against you. “You sound so pretty,” he whimpers and does it again. Then again and again and again, and you’re arching your back and the both of you are moaning and groaning, filling the church with humidity.

“Chan,” you muster, sounding on the verge of tears. His head is lowered onto your breasts, panting hard into the impossibly soft skin. “I-Inside. Now.”

Chan wants to say something sexy, but he’s so desperate for you, that all he can manage is: “I agree.”

He’s scrambling wildly to tear his boxers off and you do the same, lifting your hips to remove your drenched panties from your core. When you’re left bare, he lets out a choked moan, because immediately your hole clenching and gushing slick onto the tiled floor. The church floor, no less.

“So fucking beautiful, and mine. Belongs to me,” he babbles, eyes wounded, but fingers spreading your folds open, as he lowers his head to remark on them. You mewl, fingers clawing at his shoulders. “Miss you,” you squall and he looks up at your face again. “Okay,” he responds, body moving back up to your face. Then he mutters against your lips: “Miss you too.”

He’s kissing you again, so warm and wet in your mouth and humming into you. You claw at his back and whine wildly, when his hand steers his dick through your folds, lubricating itself in your plentiful wetness.

He pulls away and you chase after him with sorrowful eyes. “I need to see your face when I push in,” he explains very sincerely, and you somehow understand that, yes, he needs to see it. You nod.

Then he’s pushing into you. He bursts through your gates, all thick and veiny and totally raw against the walls of your pussy. He’s slow, studying your face tenderly for any signs of discomfort, even when he grimaces from the euphoric feeling. And God, your face is so perfect, all scrunched up and twisted in pleasure, mouth agape and eyes squeezed shut. He will remember it forever.

He’s rocking in and out of you, and it’s slow, and it’s love, and it’s mature, and you’re moaning simultaneously, foreheads pressed together, as he fucks you into the floor.

“Are you close, darling?” he pants against your cheek and you nod, because you are. Because it feels like your body has been working its way up to this final point, and every other milestone has just been a hillpeak on the way to a mountain. “Yes, yes, yes, I am.”

“Good, so good for me,” he’s speeding up just a little bit, working the two of you closer and gaining leverage from his bruising grip on your hips. Your hand slides up his neck, from where he’s nuzzled into the side of your nose, and you whisper breathlessly in his ear: “Please cum inside, please, please.”

And Chan’s head spins at that, thrusting so hard you’re entire body jerks. You, all filled with his kids, all soft and big stomached. The thought has his thrusts - now quite swift - becoming sloppy and has him spurting cum. You come at the feeling of him spurting inside you, spluttering you full of white seed, so much that it’s spilling out at the base of his cock.

You’re both stilling, bodies expanding eagerly for air, and he’s still so close to you, still inside you, still buried in your hair, nose huffing breaths into your ear. The church is so painfully quiet, you begin to hear your own heartbeat. This was it. This was the narrow end. There was no other way.

Lying your head on the tile and tilting it, so your eyes dance over the floor beneath you, you realize that Judas is no longer the artwork, no longer the masterpiece: It’s you and Chan on the floor, arching into each other and bathed in his light. To an unknowing outsider, the expressions you carry would also seem misplaced, just like Judas had to you. But you both know, still clinging onto each other like angels that flutter from the sky and into hell, that it was because of the end you had ensured for each other.

“I love you.”

Chan whispers the words into your neck, voice thick. You realize he’s crying again, because you feel burning hot tears dribble down your neck, and his shoulders are shaking. You curl your arms around him.

“I know. I’m sorry. I love you too.”

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