#[They would tell you that they wish he hadn't been such a waste.] | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

nnight-dances · 9 months

Text

LOVE & OTHER CLICHÉS

PAIRING: jeon wonwoo x fem!reader (ft. kim mingyu)

GENRE: fluff, angst, suggestive content

TROPES: brother's best friend, slow burn question mark, skirting around communication because that's a good plot point, jealousy as requested, banter, teasing, arbitrary social norms about words like "cute" and "sweet" pls don't listen to a word i say ever, etc.

WORD COUNT: 12k (for some reason)

The first time you re-meet Jeon Wonwoo, your brother Joshua's best friend, you think a lot of things. He does, too. It's really interesting how neither of you say exactly what you think.

"Y/N! Is that really you?"

If you hadn't been on the phone with Karina when you heard Wonwoo's voice, you think you might've genuinely passed away because his voice is something of nostalgic value to you, something distant and definitely not in the same living room as you. You look up and your eyes widen when you find the man gaping at you. "-Oh, hi–" you shoot up from your seat on the couch and then quickly remember your friend still on the line. You tell her, "Sorry, Rina, mind if I call you back later? Okay, thanks, love you. Night."

Wonwoo raises an eyebrow at you like you'd said something amusing and it's turn to take him in as you drop your phone onto the couch. "Wonwoo, god, you're alive?" you start with a small smile and continue, "Wow, um, you look… the same." What you mean to say is: How did you get even taller, you attractive bastard?

Wonwoo offers you one of his smug smiles at that and replies, "Thanks? I think. You look much more… grown up, you know." He really should've said: Holy shit, you're pretty. And then he opens his arms, "Bring it in, kid. Let's see if I can still get away with tackling you to the ground."

You scoff even as you step closer to him, ignoring the way his arms are a lot bigger than they once used to be when you tell him, "I think you're remembering it wrong, dude. I was the one tackling you."

It's no use, though, because when he wraps his arms around you, you sigh contentedly because this right here? This is a hug. Wonwoo's so warm around you and you can only pretend that the way you feel his hard muscles tense around you doesn't send chills up your spine. Wonwoo's smiling wide, only barely controlling a comment about how good you smell and how you might've grown taller but somehow still manage to fit just the same in his arms.

All in all, it's a pretty sweet reunion. You haven't seen each other in over five years so the curiosity and surprise is barely uncalled for. You only wished you could've held onto the hug longer before Joshua entered the room with a disgusted grimace on his face.

"Gross. Can you guys not do that?"

You're the first to pull away with a flustered sigh at Joshua's comment, rolling your eyes. Wonwoo tries to cover up the way he's slightly out of breath by countering, "Why? You can't handle us interacting like two normal humans? Want us to claw at each other's eyeballs like the good old times?"

–

"I don't get it, though," Wonwoo tells you, a slice of donkatsu hovering near his mouth, "Why didn't you just move in with Shua?"

"That's what I've been asking her! Haven't I been a good enough brother to you? What did I do wrong? Huh?"

You'd already seen Joshua's reaction coming, sipping the beer from your glass to brace yourself. "And as I've politely reminded you many times, big brother, it's not personal. I just thinking that would be the equivalent of moving back in with my parents. Plus, I can afford to live alone now, remember? The promotion that came with the reallocation?"

Joshua flashes you the unconvinced glare he always does when you reason with him. But you train your eyes on Wonwoo instead, determined to get him on your side at least. "It would be waste to just live with him and not do the independent thing. Plus, I literally live across from you, man, so I might as well be moving in with you."

Wonwoo nods quietly as he washes his bite down with some beer, "Hmm. That's fair enough. I don't know why Shua's been whining about it then."

You break into a pleased laugh at that where your brothers gasps in offense. "Hey, Jeon Wonwoo, whose side are you supposed to be on here?"

Wonwoo shrugs, "I'm on the side of logic, my man, I'm sorry."

"God, don't let her fool you. She says all this reasonable stuff but–"

"Oh, so you agree that it's reasonable then?" you question him with a raised brow but he ignores you as he spews his nonsense.

"-- But the real reason she wants to live alone is so she can get laid."

You hit Joshua real hard in the arm at that, "Ew, dude, don't be a pervert."

Wonwoo looks postively entertained between the two of you as he provokes you, "What does he mean?"

"Fuck if I know. I don't know what gave this guy the idea that I like to sleep around, if anything, he's the player."

Joshua narrows his eyes at you, "Uh-huh, me, the guy who was in a long-term relationship of nearly five years?"

"Emphasis on was in a relationship. How many people have you slept with since then? I don't want to know. I'm just making a point."

Wonwoo chuckles, "She's right, man. You're not exactly on the higher ground here."

"Okay, okay, but I did overhear you telling your friend that, quote, living with my brother would be the greatest clockbock there is, end quote."

Your jaw falls open when you hear him recount your words to Karina only a few hours ago. "You're eavesdropping on my calls? Wow, see, this is why I don't want to live with you."

"You weren't exactly very quiet! And you were sitting in the living room, too!"

"Whatever," you roll your eyes and then catch the questioning look Wonwoo sends your brother and you take matters in your own hands. "Fine, I said that because I mean, yeah, it's not like the hottest thing to be living with your brother, okay? Like what if I meet a cute guy and lose him to the fact that Shua's the biggest prude to exist?"

"Man, you just made a player, and now I'm a prude? Choose a story, goddamn it!"

You shrug with a grin, "People can be two things, bro."

–

"So, you all moved in yet?" Wonwoo asks you and you try to ignore how silly he looks with the edges of his glasses fogged up against the heat of the coffee in his hands. Last week, he'd texted you asking if you'd like to get coffee and catch up. You'd replied with a goofy grin playing on your lips at 1 AM with a: sure :))) if u pay!

You hum as you stir your own latte, "I think so. But everytime I think it's all done, there's always something small I forgot. Like, this morning I realized I don't have wine glasses."

He chortles, "Ah, I know what you mean. Something small but inconvenient. Like a good night lamp."

"Ugh, I need one of those, too. I brought my old one with me but ended up leaving it in the study because I didn't have one there." You sigh as you slump in your seat, "God, I hate moving. I'll have age twenty years by the time I'm fully done."

Wonwoo watches you with a bemused smile. "I can help you with shopping, if you'd like."

"Really?"

"Yeah, I mean, it's not like I moved in recently but I still remember some good places for this stuff. And it might be less tiresome if you have some company."

Your replying smile is so genuine that it's got Wonwoo smiling and he thinks he's helping you out more for himself than Joshua. It's an unsettling thought for a moment but then your voice pipes back up with an anecdote from your work and he can't care for the thoughts.

"...So, you have any luck finding cute guys to bring home?"

The question catches you off-guard and your grip on the wine glass you were inspecting loosens dangerously, but you hold onto it before it can break like your pretense of sanity.

"God," you groan as you look at a chuckling Wonwoo who's standing next to you, arms crossed in that infuriatingly attractive way. "I was slightly drunk when I said that, so it would be nice if you forgot about it."

"Why? I mean, it's understandable you'd want to get into the dating pool here. It's one way to get to know a new city."

You turn all your attention to a different glass. "I guess. But I haven't had too much luck, no. Maybe waiting around to find love organically is my problem."

Wonwoo doesn't immediately respond to that, making you uneasy and sending heat to your ears. Whatever. You'd just have to scream into your pillow and cry yourself to sleep so you could forget this embarrassment.

"Hmm, I don't know. It'll just take more time that way, I suppose. If you're willing to wait."

It's your turn to go mute except this time the silence is comfortable, only broken by a comment here and there about the glasses.

"What about you?" you ask Wonwoo at checkout, watching the worker wrap up your chosen set of glasses in bubble wrap. "Are you… with someone?"

Wonwoo's lips twitch with a small smile at your question. "Not at the moment. I like the space of being single." You nod in understanding.

"And I haven't really met anyone worth spending my time with," he says, eyes floating to you as he pushes his glasses up with a finger.

You pause at his words, thanking the cashier for their help and making your way to the exit. "You make it sound like dating's a chore, Wonwoo."

He shrugs with a shoulder, "It can be. With the wrong person."

–

"So… tell me all about your hot brother's hot best friend?"

"Ew and ew, Karina, do you want me to block you for real this time?"

"I'm just being honest but all right, do you want to talk about your years-old crush on your brother's best–"

"That's not any better. And I don't have crush on him. Also, it would really nice if we didn't say the word crush anymore. We're both adults with jobs."

"And adults with jobs aren't allowed to have a little fun?" Karina's voice is laced with laughter and you groan in frustration. Who has she been hanging out with to make her so much worse? Not you.

"Anyway, since you asked so nicely, I'll tell you. My older brother is okay. And so is Wonwoo. There."

A few minutes of further pestering from Karina and you finally let slip that Wonwoo and you have been hanging out here and there, sometimes over coffee that led to shopping dates (Karina's words, not yours) and other times spent over at Joshua's, drinking or playing video games on his couch. It was pretty cozy and you couldn't really complain about this new life.

"Oh, so you don't miss me then, huh? Nice to know. But also it seems like you're hitting it off with Wonwoo and before you cut me off, you did like Wonwoo for like half your childhood, remember? Maybe this could become something. Who knows?"

Oh, you remember. It was you who spent long summer afternoons staring at Wonwoo as he came over to your home after class, spending all his time arguing with Joshua about a card game they'd been playing or about which villain was cooler in the new movie they'd watched. For a while, it had been a distant thing but over time, you'd warmed up to them and started talking more to Wonwoo, now a regular participant in their arguments.

And as it turns out, it doesn't take a lot of arguments to fall for Jeon Wonwoo.

–

One thing about you is that you're stubborn. You like to think it's a genetic thing because the only person who could rival your firmness was none other than your brother. And this meant that when Karina tried to convince you that you still had a soft spot for Wonwoo, you tried to tell her that's all it was: a soft spot. Like a platonic affinity for someone you'd spent a lot of time with growing up.

And you reasoned it out with yourself that night, thinking back to the time you'd spent with him recently. It was familiar in the best way possible. Where meeting new people at work was absolutely exhausting, coming back home to your brother and Wonwoo was like a hug to your soul.

Speaking of hugs, your mind rolled over to the one you'd shared with Wonwoo a few weeks ago, an event that you often found yourself thinking. As sane and rational as you thought yourself to be, the way you'd find yourself unable to control a giggle in the dark every time you remembered the way you all but melted into his arms, strong but fond in their embrace around your waist.

And when you come to your senses, you realize it's ridiculous how stuck up on that hug you are. It's stupid your smile that breaks through anyway and the way your heart beats faster when you remember the plans you'd made with Wonwoo for tomorrow, a trip to a local bookstore because he had found your collection of books lacking the day he'd come over for a visit.

You roll over in bed then, groaning a little because you're starting to think the soft spot might be… growing.

–

"You know I really didn't think I would spend this much on books today," you mumble as you tap your card at the register. It was almost funny how many conversations you and Wonwoo have had at check-out, almost inevitable because often the shopping experience itself meant a lot of focused silence as the two of you browsed around in tandem.

It was a weirdly heartwarming way to spend time together. Or maybe that was just you and your weakness for quality time.

"What do you mean? We literally mutually decided that you needed a better collection." Wonwoo leans against the counter with a cocked brow.

"Well, the mutual part is up for discussion. It's more like you shamed me for keeping a modest book collection. And I mean, I wasn't so sure if I'd find anything good here."

"Really?" he asks, picking up the heavy bag from the counter before you can reach for it, "Because I remember you agreeing pretty quickly and enthusiastically to my proposition to go book-shopping."

"That was only because you made it sound like fun." And it meant that I'd get to spend more time with you. "And it was fun. So that's one thing you're right about."

Wonwoo's smile turns smug as you exit the bookstore, each with a paper bag in hand. You'd settled for carrying Wonwoo's own purchase of two new books that he'd apparently been meaning to come out and buy.

"Anyway, now what? You wanna go to my place and break into one of these bad boys?" You shake the bag in your hand with a gleeful grin. But Wonwoo's looking at the mall across from you with mouth slightly ajar in concentration. And then he smiles, pure excitement plastered across his face when looks back at you.

"I have a much better idea." That's all he says before his unoccupied hand finds yours and tugs you after him. Admittedly, you're a little dizzy at the sudden touch and let him pull you across the road with quick steps, struggling to keep up with him. At the back of your head, you store away how attractive it is that Wonwoo's holding a good dozen books in a hand and yours in the other, racing ahead like it was the most important thing in the world. And honestly? If it was with Wonwoo, you think you feel the urgency in your veins as if it were travelling across your intertwined palms.

It's a good day to be a romantic for you, as you later find out, standing in line with Wonwoo to purchase tickets to a newly released movie. The genre? Rom-com.

"Well, it's not so much a rom-com as the poster makes it seem. That's actually a deft marketing stunt. It's actually a pretty serious movie about love and I've heard it's not for the weak."

So many questions. You have so many questions.

For one, "I didn't know you were into romantic movies," you comment, watching Wonwoo from the corner of your eye, too afraid to look him in the eye now that your hand was no longer in his.

"It's possible to avoid romance. Everything is about love these days, even if it isn't."

You also can't believe that you're about to watch a movie with Wonwoo. It's all strangely… different. You'd never been to the movies alone with him. It's a new territory for you. But you're not mad. If anything, the smile on your lips is playful.

"And it's not just that you're too scared to admit that you like rom-coms?"

"I'm not. Into rom-coms, I mean. The humor is straight-up bad and the romance is tolerable at best. It's like if you're going to do a x to death, you might as well do it well."

"I can't believe this," you mutter more to yourself than him, "Jeon Wonwoo watching a rom-com? This must be a dream."

"You dream about me, hmm?"

You narrowly avoid whiplash when you turn to look at Wonwoo, his teasing only another addition to the list of things you didn't think you'd hear your brother's best friend every say to you. But the more you know, huh?

The movie itself is insane. The plot is devastating enough on its own but the way Wonwoo's shoulder pressed into yours the whole time, despite there being more than enough space between the two seats, has you more vulnerable than usual. So find yourself tearing up halfway through the movie and sit through the credits with half-contained sobs. And where Wonwoo had laughed at your tears mid-way, when he noticed your sobs, his hand found your back, rubbing it comfortingly.

"That was horrific," you mumble when you're less overcome with sadness and pout at Wonwoo. "I hate you for making me watch that. I will never find happiness. And worse, I will never find love."

Your words, punctuated with that small pout of yours, has Wonwoo a breath away from falling to his knees with his head in hands because fuck, you're adorable. And truth be told, he was tearing up at the end, too, but he wouldn't let you know that because the way you accuse him for your state is just incredibly precious to him.

"It was terrific," he corrects you, "And I'm sorry, I didn't think you'd get so emotional."

You glare at Wonwoo at that, as if you hadn't just been dabbing at your eyes with his pocket tissues, "Okay, Mister Emotionless, don't think I didn't catch you wiping tears away in the closing scene."

Wonwoo shoots a guilty grin and pats your head, "You're cute."

The statement leaves you speechless enough that Wonwoo gets away with it, starting to walk away with a gaping you in his wake. You're deeply confused and slightly jittery when you finally catch up to him with a small "I wasn't trying to be" of affront under your breath.

–

"That's bad, right, isn't it? It's so bad. It's horrible."

"Calm down, Y/N, he called you cute, just so we're clear? Not a bunch of bad words right? So why is it bad?"

"Because!" you cry out, "Because cute is like the most platonic adjective. I thought we were having a moment, what with a movie date and all– but if he thinks I'm cute then I was wrong. So unbelievably wrong."

"Okay, I know what you mean but that's not always how things work. I mean, you said he held your hand and stuff, right? That's more than platonic. And it's all about the tone. Cute can be a very romantic word if in the right context."

"The context," you tell Karina with a sigh, "is that he's my brother's best friend! He couldn't make it any clearer. Wow, and I was all up in my head over him, too."

"Can we just take a moment to acknowledge how I told you that you still had feelings for Wonwoo?"

"We will do no such thing. Because the feelings are gone now!"

"Right. I believe you, Y/N," Karina deadpans over the phone, "You can call me when you're done being an idiot. Bye."

–

It's Karina's sarcastic tone that your thoughts catch onto the next few days, the ones you spend half in agony because Wonwoo hasn't contacted you and after your personal dilemma, you think you'd let someone shoot you before you texted him first.

So you try your best to distract yourself with work, showing up earlier than you'd built a reputation for, and staying a little later than most. It's a new routine for you, one that leaves you pretty tired in a way that your bones are not used to.

Maybe that's why your legs don't seem to be working that morning when you bump into someone on your way to the coffee machine. You'd been rubbing your neck, trying to feel out the knot that you'd woken up with, and had effectively lost track of where you were going and collided with a solid figure, sending a few steps back.

You sigh as you regain your balance, ever so thankful that you didn't fall flat on your butt as you look up at the person in front you. He's tall enough that you should've seen him coming so you're first to apologize. "Shit, sorry! I wasn't looking where I was going. Sorry about that!"

"No, no, I should've been more careful. I'm lucky I wasn't carrying a coffee or that could've been really bad. I'm sorry." The man's voice is hoarse and he talks over himself, as if eager to get all his thoughts before he forgets what he's saying.

You meet his eyes with a small smile, "I guess we're both at fault, huh?"

He reciprocates your smile with crescent eyes. "Yup. Can I get you a coffee as reparation?"

"I mean, it's not a big deal at all."

"I insist," the man levels his gaze at you and you wonder how he looks like he could throw you across the room without breaking a sweat, but still manages to be so soft.

"I'm Mingyu, by the way," he tells you as he hands you a cup of warm coffee. "Thanks Mingyu. I'm Y/N."

"I've seen you around. You were a new hire, right?"

You take your time with a sip of your coffee before responding, "Yes, I was originally at another branch but my leader wanted me closer to headquarters before they opened up new branches in this city. I don't know, something exposure for me and experience for them."

"You must be good if they sent you here," Mingyu points out and you brush it off with a noncomittal shrug. You find yourself pleasantly enamoured by Mingyu for the next ten minutes or so and you wonder how you'd missed him at all in the first place. But when he tells you he better get going, you nod with a smile, "Of course. It was nice meeting you, Mingyu."

Mingyu becomes the perfect distraction, as one might predict he would. He has a unique charm, what with the contrast between his intimidating physique but surprisingly shy demeanour. He's the textbook golden retriever in people and though you're not a dog person, you find yourself grow fonder of him every time you run into him near the coffee machine or while leaving work in the elevator.

"You have a work crush?"

You groan loudly, throwing a half-eaten cracker at Joshua. "Come on, what is it with all the people I know and having the most childish vocabulary?"

"Oh, I'm sorry, am I not erudite enough for you? You know it may not seem like it but I am four years older than you and I have that much more–"

"Yeah, yeah, something about experience and knowledge, I've heard it before. And by the way, it's technically three years and three months, not that I'm counting."

"You very clearly are," Joshua points out with a frustrated laugh, "Anyway, you gonna make a move on this guy?"

"No, because if you were actually listening to me, you'd have heard that I like him as a friend and that I need help buying a gift for his birthday."

"Right, right," your brother mumbles in thought, "And that's next week?"

You nod as you pick your phone up, scrolling through the chat with Mingyu to reach the text he'd sent you a day ago: by the way, i'm throwing for my birthday on the 6th. love it if you came ;)

Winky emoji and slightly short notice aside, you'd replied as enthusiastically as you could muster: your birthday??? when were you going to tell me!! and: ofc i'll be there but not before i make you suffer for hiding smth so imp from me :(((

Before you can squeeze any more vaguely helpful tips from Joshua, his bell rings and you sit up with a frown as he stands up to get it. "Ah, Wonwoo's here."

"Wonwoo?" is your shocked gasp to that information, body going stiff because you'd seen him only in passing since the day of the movie. You think you might pass out. Why does nobody think it's important to tell you anything these days?

You hear their voices in the corridor as Joshua lets Wonwoo in and your mind races with your options. Hiding in the bathroom for the night would be feasible if your brother wasn't a monster who would drag you out within thirty minutes. Maybe you climb out a window? But you were on the eight floor and as much as you liked to joke about death, you'd prefer to escape alive.

Your brother's voice breaks you out of your scheming, alerting you they're in the living room. "Oh yeah, Y/N, here's someone with not childish vocabulary if you want to replace me."

You look over your shoulder with a scowl but immediately lose your spirit when you lock eyes with Wonwoo, a lopsided smile greeting you. He's wearing a cozy sweater that's a shade of blue so dark that it might as well be black and you want to start crying because his hands are concealed beneath the sleeves, fists turned sweater paws as he stands there, looking between you and your brother.

"Why are you two fighting this time?"

"Nothing." "She has a crush at work."

Wonwoo lets out a sigh when you both answer simultaneously but seems intrigued by Joshua's statement, eyeing him. "What did you say?"

"She has a–"

"I'm warning you, if you say the word crush one more time, I will do something so unimaginable to your face at night–"

"She likes a guy from work."

Wonwoo looks surprised as he looks back at you inquisitively and you frown. "Untrue. It's just a guy I made friends with recently. And I only mentioned him so I could get advice but clearly, nobody here supports me so I'm going to take this conversation elsewhere."

"I support you." Wonwoo's quick response has you freezing in your dramatic exit and you turn to look at him in doubt but when his expression is clear of any mischief, you sit back down.

"Nice to know. But I'd love it if we talked about something else for now. Like dinner."

The night takes on a more comfortable journey from thereon, with the three of you ordering take-out and fighting it out with a card game while it was on its way. You were actually proud of yourself for acting normal around Wonwoo, despite all your past internal conflict. And you would've gone to sleep somewhat peacefully if he hadn't approached you in the kitchen, while Joshua was taking out trash, having lost the game.

You were placing the leftovers in the fridge when Wonwoo materialized behind you, the only warning of his presence the question he asks you, "You want any help?"

You barely hold in a surprised squeak as you spin around to him. "Goddamn it, Wonwoo, make some noise next time you sneak up on me?"

"Then I wouldn't be sneaking up on you, would I?"

You roll your eyes, closing the fridge behind you as you declare, "Well, I'm done here. Thanks for washing the dishes, by the way."

"Sure, I know how much you Hongs hate touching water. I was surprised you installed a faucet in your kitchen at all."

You give Wonwoo a push in response, "That's a very funny way to conceal the fact that you lost at rock paper scissors."

"I just think it was an unfair way to decide tasks. I'm really bad at that game."

"Right, and assuming one can be good or bad at a game of rock paper scissors, what else would you have preferred to play?"

Wonwoo's eyes twinkle with an idea and then, he puts up a hand and wiggles it around in your face. "Arm wrestling."

Your smile falls, "No. That's just–"

"See," he points at you, "That's how I feel about rock paper scissors."

Despite how much you claim that the two games are not at all on the same par, you let Wonwoo drag you to the kitchen table, standing across from you and arm ready for the wrestling. Slowly, you lean closer to him, hand coming to rest against his.

"Don't be too cocky," you mumble when his hand squeezes yours, already triumphant before the game had begun. The result of the game itself is pretty obvious but when you start to wrestle and feel Wonwoo's forearm tense against you, it has you light-headed. Your eyes leave the match to look at him, only to find him watching you with a glint in his eye. He smiles when you make eye-contact with him, going strangely silent for all his gloating a minute ago. You raise a brow at him and the bastard has the audacity to send a wink your way before pressing your arm against the wood of the table.

"Whatever," you tell him before his already obnoxious grin can swell any more. He opens his mouth and you're already anticipating something insulting to meet your eyes. But instead, Wonwoo says, "Your hand's so small." You look up at him only for him to take your hand in his and carefully line it against his own palm.

You feel your cheeks burn. It's all so cliché, especially if he's flirting with you. Arm-wrestling turns into a hand-measuring contest. So trite. And yet, you find yourself smiling.

"See?" your hand wriggles, imitiating Wonwoo from earlier, "This game was rigged. Maybe if you had a handicap or something."

"Okay, I think I better leave before you take a knife and cut my hand up or something…"

–

wonwoo: hello you

you: hi?

wonwoo: heard there's live music at the pub today. wanna come with?

you: ok creep

wonwoo: excuse me??? just informed you of a one in lifetime opportunity. shua's treating

you: WAIT he is???????

you: the one time i can't come?

wonwoo: you can't?

you: yes… have to attend a coworker's birthday party tonight. sorry :(

wonwoo: u should be sorry

wonwoo: imagine how much damage we could've done to joshua's wallet

You throw yourself into your sheets with a disappointed sigh, stomach uneasy at the thought of missing a hang-out with your favorite duo. But then you roll over to your side and think it's better if you go out with people who you didn't grow up with, for once. It might be a new experience. Just to be clear, this was Karina's voice resounding in your head. She had her way of giving you advice without you calling her for it.

Three hours later, you're tiring yourself out at Mingyu's birthday party. It's intense, the party, bustling with people but then again, you'd be a fool to think Mingyu wouldn't have a roster full of friends to invite to a party. You meet the man of the night an hour into the party and he throws his hands around when he recognizes you.

"Y/N, I'm so glad you could make it!"

"Of course. Happy birthday, Mingyu!"

He leans over the bar and yells something at the bartender who eyes Mingyu and upon recognizing him as the birthday boy, places two shots in front of you.

"Have a shot with me?" Mingyu grins, a slight layer of sweat shining on his forehead. You chuckle in defeat, "Sure, why not?"

A shot turns into two and you're working on swallowing the third one when your phone buzzes in the back-pocket of your denim shorts. You're about to take a look at the caller ID and decline almost immediately but when you realize it's Wonwoo calling you, you pause. You excuse yourself from Mingyu's side quickly, making your way to a slightly quieter cornern of the party and answer.

"Wonwoo?"

"Oh," comes Wonwoo's voice, a little distant, and he seems shocked as if he hadn't expected you to pick up. "Hey, Y/N. How are you?"

"Um. I'm fine, Wonwoo, just at that party I told you about. Is everything okay?"

"Yeah. You're not too drunk, are you?" he asks, ironically slurring the question.

"I should be asking you that question. Wonwoo, where's Joshua? Do you need me to come pick you up?"

"No," his voice is laced with disbelief, "I'm fine. Just a little tipsy. Sorry, you should get back to the party."

"Yeah," you reply, feeling a little uneasy as the liquid in your stomach sloshes around with each movement you make.

"Stay safe, Y/N. Call me if you need anything? I'm gonna go find Shua now."

Before you can ask him what he means by finding Joshua, Wonwoo's hung up on you, almost as quickly as he called you. Okay, so that was weird. And cool, now you're nauseous.

–

When Wonwoo drunk-calls you, he thinks he's officially lost you. If you didn't find him weird before, you probably thought him a lot weird now. That's great, he thinks. But the regret of his decision doesn't outweigh the need to see you right now, something about the fact that you're at some guy's birthday party making him all worked up. It should be obvious why he's like this but Wonwoo can avoid a serious thought for days if it keeps him slightly more sane than usual.

But then the Joshua's bell rings and he opens the door, finding you standing there just like he'd imagined a few minutes ago. You're in a slouchy shirt that unbuttoned all the way to your mid-torso to reveal a black bikini top. He clears his throat to contain the thought that threatens to escape him: fuck, you look hot.

"Shit," you exclaim when you see Wonwoo, "This isn't my place. Ugh. I'm stupid."

Wonwoo steps closer to you, "Are you okay, Y/N? Did you just get back?"

You nod silently and then take a step back from him. "Sorry, I'm just gonna go to the right place. You can sleep… or whatever."

"Wait, no," he rushes to your side, taking your elbow in his hand, "I'll help you."

You roll your eyes, "It's okay, I'm not drunk, Wonwoo. And by the looks of it, neither are you." But you don't push off the hand on you and simply let him follow you to your door, "Is Shua already asleep?"

"Hmm, he passed out. I don't know why he claims to be heavyweight when he can barely handle alcohol. I had force him to leave the pub before he made himself sick."

You listen intently, unlocking the door with a hum, "He's an idiot." You throw the door open and Wonwoo lets himself in after you. He's clearly not too sober because when you bend down to take of your shoes and your ass juts out dangerously close to his crotch, he almost falls over in an attempt to jump away to give you space. But he remains close just in case you stumble, his own shaky state be damned.

But you're unnervingly stable as you stand back up, taking your hand off the wall when you're done taking your shoes off and brushing them against yourself with a suspicious look thrown at him– unnerving because Wonwoo just wants an excuse to get his hands on you somehow. You're effortlessly magnetic, moving across the hall to your kitchen to pour yourself some water, still unebelievably stable, and Wonwoo follows you in a trance-like manner.

"You want something to drink?"

Your question hangs in complete silence and it's only when you look over at Wonwoo that he comprehends that you're asking him. He clears his throat again, "Um, I don't want to bother you if you want to go to bed."

You raise a shoulder nonchalantly, "'M not sleepy. And you're here so we might as well hang." You disappear from his sight as you crouch down behind the counter, sliding open a shelf, "I have some shiraz I've been meaning to break open, if you're up for it?"

"Oh, that sounds great actually," he replies and you reappear with two wine glasses in your hand. You beam at him and he feels a thrill down his spine, recognizing the set you'd bought with him. "Great. Go sit in the living room and I'll be right there."

"No, I'll help you get the stuff."

You pause your movements toward the liquor shelf, "Come on, I thought it was clear I'm not drunk by now."

"I know," Wonwoo walks closer to you, picking up the glasses you'd set down earlier, "Just want to be here with you."

You turn back around and Wonwoo doesn't know it's to hide the flush that colors your face at his confession. You spend a minute too long picking out the shiraz to recover and you're glad Wonwoo also doesn't know that you could pick the bottle of red out without actually looking.

"Geez, I've got sand in my feet now," you complain as you take your first sip of the wine from your glass when you catch sight of the particles lodged in your toes.

"Sand?" questions Wonwoo as he leans over to get a look.

"Yeah, it was a beach-themed party," you tell him. He nods, thinking that your outfit makes a lot more sense now. "Mingyu's a silly guy for someone who's turning twenty-five."

"Mingyu, huh?" Wonwoo tries out the name, watching out for how you react. You don't give away much, simply taking another sip but your chest burns for reasons other than alcohol.

"Hmm, yeah."

"So do you like him? Joshua seems pretty convinced about it."

You hide your face against the couch, "Fuck Joshua. He's an idiot."

"So you've said."

"No, but really. Mingyu's a sweet guy and all, but he's… not my type."

Now this is something Wonwoo can work with, relief flooding his veins at your honest reply. "What is your type?"

You meet Wonwoo's gaze for the first time in this conversation and groan again. In your head, you can't help but be burdened by how unbelievably cliché your situation is. Your brother's best friend sitting next to you swirling a glass of red wine, asking you about the guy you liked when it was clearly him you liked. In fact, you think your entire relationship with Wonwoo's always been full of clichés: falling for his charm as a youth and growing into the feelings long after, hanging out with him as grown-ups, going on dates that are left unlabelled, measuring hands with him for fuck's sake– It was a little too on the nose, you think.

But you don't tell Wonwoo any of this, maybe because you're too scared to or maybe you'd liked to see the plot thicken a little. "I don't have a type."

Wonwoo is surprisingly quick to leave the topic alone after that and you're thankful, but half-irked because you'd hoped for more. But you can't complain when he has you wrapped up in a completely different conversation, distracting enough that you can barely remember how you finished the wine in your glass.

"Want a refill?" he asks you when the empty glasses have been sitting on the coffee table for long enough.

"Mhm, I think I'll have some apple juice instead."

"As you wish."

He doesn't even bother asking you where you keep your juice and takes off with the glasses to the kitchen. You watch him keenly, letting your heart lead your mind for a little as you take in how cozy the night is when you're in Wonwoo's company.

It's with that uncontrollable giddy smile on your face that Wonwoo catches you.

"Happy about something?" he asks, placing a cup with golden liquid in front of you and keeping his glass of wine next to it.

"Yeah. About everything. I'm happy."

Wonwoo smiles, arm reaching to your side and squeezing your hand in a way that leaves you thinking that you might actually like physical touch more than you've been led to think. "I like the sound of that."

Your smile only turns goofier. "What about you? Are you happy?"

He huffs out a breathy laugh, "I'm not too bad myself. Things have been looking up recently."

Fucking fuck, even everything you say to each other sounds like it's been said before, somewhere else in an idealistic movie about two people slowly falling in love with each other. But you can't get yourself to hate the idea so you simply shift closer to him.

Wonwoo notices, obviously, and smiles a little because he notices the light dusting of red on your cheeks. Your hair's come undone from what was presumably a low bun at the back of your head and he has an itch to brush the strands away from your face– a thought that if you were privy to would only be an addition the list titled reasons why wonwoo and you are a straight-up cliché.

But you find out soon anyway, because Wonwoo acts on the itch, hand coming to cup your face before a few fingers find the crown of your head, gently tucking the stray hair behind your ear.

You hum in satisfaction and Wonwoo's heart hammers, thinking that is probably the best reaction he could've hoped for. He takes a sip of the wine in his hand and moves to rest his face on his fist.

Except you intercept him mid-way, closing the space between you with a noise of surprise that Wonwoo lets out when he feels your warm lips against his. The shock causes the wine in his mouth to bleed into yours, just like you'd hoped, and before Wonwoo can act on your advance, you've already pulled back.

Your smile is warm with shyness when you notice the starstruck expression on Wonwoo's face. "Sorry, I wanted to taste the wine."

Wonwoo's silent as he processes this, moving slower thanks to the wine in his sytsem and now– the feeling of your kiss on his mind. When he does break from the silence, he moves to take another sip of wine and this time it's him crossing over to you, big palm steadying your jaw so he can spill into you, literally and not. You let out a little noise this time, not expecting him to reciprocate your shameless move but delighted anyway as you move against his mouth.

There's a third kiss. And you pull away with a dreamy sigh because really, this was straight out of your dreams. Wonwoo rests his head on his hand like he'd intended to about three kisses earlier and watches as you avert your gaze, suddenly bashful. You fix your gaze on the coffee table, proud that you'd finally chosen to place it opposite the couch instead of near the bookshelf.

"I haven't dated anyone for a while, you know," Wonwoo suddenly blurts out, your hair once again in your face when you turn to face him. "I was in a pretty… fucked-up relationship after high school and that made me give up on love altogether."

You listen attentively, eyes on his as he tells about the person he was with, voice dropping to a soft octave. When he finishes you find his hands with a smile, "Thank you for telling me that. And I'm sorry. You deserve so much better than that. You're a pretty solid guy."

"Really?" Wonwoo's mood turns light again at your comment and you try to maintain your composure, reminding yourself that his smile might be casual but your words still hold weight.

"Yeah, you're a rare find, Wonwoo. Quiet but not boring, witty yet funny, tall but nice to hug."

You bite your lip at that last part, clearly giving yourself away. But Wonwoo's eyes light up anyway, "Nice to hug, huh? That's a new compliment. Glad to know."

You can feel him lean closer to you without looking because his voice is closer to your ears. Flustered, you reach for your abandoned apple juice and take a sip, but overestimate your own sobriety because you manage to spill a third of it on yourself. "Fuck," you curse under your breath and throw your head back against the couch in frustration over yourself.

"Fuck," Wonwoo echoes you, shifting beside you, "You okay? Wait here, I'll get you a towel." He's already standing up by the time you have it in you to find your footing. You stop him with a slightly damp hand on his arm.

"It's okay, I'll just go throw this in the laundry. Needed to change anyway."

Wonwoo nods as he makes way so you can pad lightly to your room, ears adorably red. He lets out a heavy breath when you close the door behind you though, placing a hand against chest because the sight of your half-exposed chest slightly wet with juice– well, it was doing more things to him that he'd like. Your low expletive followed by your limp body hadn't helped his wild imagination either, instantly wondering what it might be like to run his hands through–

"All right, that's it. I need some fresh air." Fresh air so he could feel less like a pervert and more like… normal. And it helps to step out onto your balcony, the scenery of the moonlit night a pleasant surprise to his senses. He hums happily, almost forgetting about his preoccupied thoughts entirely.

And then he hears your voice resound in the living room faintly. He calls out your name, telling you to come out to the balcony, and a minute later, you step out, now clad in a cozy night set, matching blue shirt with shorts. "Hey," you mumble as you join him near the railing, body visibly relaxing in the night air. "Woah, it's nice here."

"It is, isn't it?"

"Yeah, this is actually my first time coming out here since I moved in. I always figured this place would be full of spider webs and like bird shit."

Wonwoo chuckles, "I mean we're probably standing on something that's not supposed to be here but it's for us to worry about tomorrow."

–

When you wake up the next morning, it takes you a good amount of groaning and screaming to figure out if last night was real. Taking shots with Mingyu at his birthday bash? Understandable. Receiving a call from a self-proclaimed tipsy Wonwoo? Confusing but not impossible. Inviting Wonwoo over for wine and ending up making out with him? Insane.

What's worse, you couldn't really remember how the night had ended, a consequence of your inebriated self combining with sleep deprivation. But that was a pretty important thing to remember, wasn't it? It could be difference between a regretful farewell and a promising one. You don't know which one would ease the storm in your stomach faster.

You roll over to unlock your phone and sit up when you see you have two unread texts. And then, you see they're both from Mingyu.

mingyu: thanks for coming last night :D

mingyu: sorry i couldn't see u out. hope you made it home safe!

You sigh in barely contained disappointment as you throw your phone back into the sheets, looking up at the ceiling. You suppose you ought to do something about the Mingyu situation soon but right now, you find the idea of suffocating in your bedsheets for the next two hours much more comforting.

–

See now, this right here is your problem. As much as you complained about hating being a cliché, you kind of wish your situation with Wonwoo was more of a cliché because right now doesn't exactly feel like something out of a film.

It feels like hard cold reality. And it's not the first time either.

1: things will happen between you and Wonwoo: he holds your hand, he kisses your lips.

2: he doesn't text you about it and you're too much of a coward to force him out of his shell.

3: things end up all in the air. And now, you're miserable.

But later that evening, you find out there's more to this list of not-so-cliché things that happen between you and Wonwoo.

4: you run into Wonwoo at your brother's place.

He's so casual, too, dressed in a plaid shirt and lounging on Joshua's couch, gaming his time away. You almost immediately regretting making an impromptu trip to your brother's place but it's too late to back out because Joshua's already set the dinner table for three. How you despise your extroverted, loving brother.

"Did you make that deadline you were complaining about yesterday?" Joshua asks you over a spoonful of his soup. You nod, "Yeah, turns out it was easier when I stopped whining about it."

Wonwoo lets out a laugh, earning him a look from you which you quickly retract, going back to your quiet self when the two engage in conversation. You're glad to ignore but they find it less than easy to, given how unusual your disengagement is. Wonwoo does have an idea for your mood but he doesn't feel like discussing it with your brother just yet.

So when Joshua asks him, "Do you know what's up with her?" when you excuse yourself to the bathroom, Wonwoo stiffens. Why was he asking Wonwoo? … Had he been obvious?

"Dunno. Maybe work's busy or something."

"You think I should go pester her with some ice-cream later tonight?"

"Best if you don't do that. She might disown you."

"That's like legally impossible, Wonwoo. Right?"

When you take an unexpectedly long time in the bathroom, Joshua goes on. "Did something happen between you two?"

Again, Wonwoo tenses up. "...No. Why do you ask?"

"I mean, she seemed fine yesterday when she came over. So I don't think I'm the problem here. Not that I'm accusing you of anything. Just… I know y'all have been bonding recently."

Wonwoo averts his gaze, deeply uncomfortable with this chat. "Um, yeah, I guess."

"Listen, man, I don't mean to take on the older brother tone in this conversation or anything but…" Joshua sighs as he plays with a leftover piece of bread, "You know I'm okay if something does happen with you and her, right? I trust you. And well, she was an adult long before me so I hardly have a say there."

Wonwoo stares at his half-empty glass of water, frowning. "Okay, cool." His answer is curt because he's still caught off-guard by this conversation. He'd wanted to bring up the developments between you himself, in his own way, but this left him a little panicked. Like, he was being rushed to make a move. And his brain ended up shutting down in the process.

…but it really wasn't the best time for his malfunction, given that you'd managed to overhear a good half of that conversation, specifically on the Joshua asking Wonwoo about you and him being indifferent about it. What was he thinking? What were you thinking?

5: you storm out of dinner without an explanation. you pretend you don't hear wonwoo call after you when you do. his texts that night go unanswered.

How's that for a cliché, huh?

–

These days, you're trying find the joy in small things. Like waking up to your very first alarm for the morning. Or brewing an especially aromatic coffee at home.

Like making it to the end of a phone-call with Karina without talking about Wonwoo.

"Oh, wait, before I forget to ask, how did it go with Wonwoo?"

Almost.

You take a deep breath to steady yourself, "Not too well. I mean, we kissed. But then, he didn't text me for like three days after. Then I run into him at Joshua's and he acts all… cold. And judging by that one conversation I overheard, he thinks everything that happened between us was a mistake."

"Okay, okay, hold your horses, friend, I feel like a lot happened there. You kissed? Why is this the first I'm hearing of it?!" Karina sounds genuinely upset and you let out a groan.

"Well, I was trying to stop bringing up Wonwoo every time we catch up. It's annoying and I want to hear more about your life than complain about mine."

"We can both complain about our lives, Y/N. I have all the time in the world. At least till six. Anyway, that's besides the point! You kissed but he ghosted you afterward? And did he actually say he thought it was all a mistake?"

You bite your lip in rumination and then admit, "He didn't actually say that but it was implied. You would agree if you'd heard the same conversation as I!"

As it turns out, Karina doesn't seem to approve of the conclusion you've come to all on your own. But then you point out that it's been over a week and it's been radio silence. So you have every right to feel as hurt as you do.

"I suppose you do. But still, it wouldn't hurt to approach him first."

"I would rather die."

"Okay, well, maybe find out how he's doing from Joshua?"

"Will not."

"You're being difficult right now, Y/N. What do you want to do then?"

"I want to move on and not think about Wonwoo. Maybe I should go on a blind date or something."

"We're not in a movie right now, man, plus, I'm pretty sure you were the one who swore your life to finding love organically and whatnot."

"...Gah, I was hoping you'd forgotten about that. Fine, I'll do… something."

Your words are nothing if not misleading because by something, you don't mean to communicate with Wonwoo like a sane person might. Instead you check up on Mingyu, who you've still been succesfully making small talk at work with, and ask him if he wanted to get dinner. The enthusiasm with which he responds is comforting, a relieving contrast from the tension in your relationship with you-know-who.

mingyu: omg i woud love to

mingyu: but im unfortuntely busy tonight :((((

mingyu: would you be down for tomorrow? i can make some killer spaghetti if given the opportunity

you: make???? i was thinking of buying the food… but i won't turn that offer down

mingyu: i'm a man of many talents ;)

You work out the details of the date (neither of you call it that, but it's understood to be one) over the night and you feel a little uneasy as the afternoon of the day comes to a close. Either way, you find a comfortable dress that is flattering against your skin and welcome Mingyu into your place, letting his excitement work its contagious magic.

If you're following the plot line of this story closely, you'd figure out that the next cliché is this: Wonwoo behind the door across from your home, just now learning about this date of yours with Mingyu.

He's broken his pledge to himself and asked Joshua about you, after having missed seeing you there for the past week. Joshua had hesitated to respond but is honest anyway, muttering, "I think she has a date over."

"A date?" is Wonwoo instantaneous question, barely-concealed dread underlying in its tone.

"Yeah, remember that guy from work whose birthday she attended?" Joshua pretends to have forgotten his name but his best friend is quick to chime in, "Mingyu?"

But you'd told him he was just a friend. You'd called him sweet for fuck's sake, and that was the most platonic adjective you could use for a potential love interest. Well, he's been proven wrong by your date tonight.

He looks down at his clasped palms, the same ones that were intertwined with your skin, first the skin of your hands, then your cheek when he'd leaned into kiss you. And if he hadn't spent the last four days regretting every minute he didn't call you up, he sure did want to punch a hole in the fabric of time right about now.

"You okay there, buddy?"

Joshua's concern brings Wonwoo back to his body and he looks up, lips pursed and your brother thinks how ridiculous it is that both of you won't just talk it out. But he keeps that judgement to himself, choosing to sit back and watch his best friend pace it out.

"Yeah, I'm fine. Fine. Really fine. I'm okay." He clears his throat, the first tell. "I'm just… um, a little hot. It's hot in here, huh."

Joshua tames his bemused smile. "Is it? I just turned up the air-con though?"

"Oh, well, it's just me then. Anyway, what was I saying? Oh yeah, um, I love this video game."

"Wonwoo, we were in the middle of choosing a card game to play."

"Fuck. Okay, sorry, just give me a minute, I need to go call… my mother."

"No worries, my guy, give Mrs. Jeon my greetings!"

Across the hall, you're busy watching over Mingyu as he makes his way around your kitchen. You say watching over because really, the man is so clumsy in his own feet, you wonder how he's lived this long. You have to make sure he doesn't cut a limb off every two seconds.

But then your phone buzzes urgently in your pocket and you pull it out, the light smile playing on your face falling when Wonwoo's name pops up on your screen. Now he texts you?

wonwoo: hey! you think we could talk?

You lock your screen almost as soon as you read the message because honestly, you don't have time to dwell over this man in your phone when there's a whole another person cooking you dinner in front of you. That's what ends up leaving a heartbroken Wonwoo, slumped on Joshua's couch as he barely zones into the movie that was playing on the screen.

Joshua's had it with sitting around when Wonwoo stays unmoving throughout the ending credits– the man hates the credits for crying out loud!-- and instead decides to play cupid. It wasn't ideal, having to set up his sister with his best friend but well, any commoner could see how clearly you were meant to be with each other and he'd rather not have to listen to both sides' misery.

It's okay timing, you've finished eating dinner with Mingyu, showering his food with compliments the whole time and flustering with your genuine shock at his abilities the whole night. He's helping you clean up with a cheeky grin on his face whenever he leans in a little too close to place a utensil back in its place and you let a smile overtake your face. But you can barely let yourself enjoy the date because if Wonwoo ill-timed text wasn't enough, you're done for when both him and Joshua show up at your door.

"What the fuck?" you ask your brother because you're positive you told him you had a date tonight and then you spot a spaced out Wonwoo next to him, and suddenly put two and two together.

Wonwoo's eyes never leave your figure, taking in how beautiful the blue dress you were wearing was and how you'd put your hair up in a half-bun, a few strands framing your face prettily. He feels sick, first in a good way and then Mingyu pops up behind you, and now Wonwoo's sick in a bad way. The tall man looks so comfortable next to you, arm brushing against yours as he raises his eyebrows in confusion at the two intruders.

"Sorry, Gyu, these are…" you start to introduce them as they are and then, find a particularly provoking way to put it, "...my brothers."

Wonwoo might actually throw up right here and right now. Gyu? Brothers???

Joshua butts in quickly, "Well, technically, I'm Y/N's older brother, and this is Wonwoo, my friend."

"Ohhh," Mingyu nods in understanding, bowing when he realizes Joshua's your sibling, "Nice to meet you. I'm Mingyu and I work with Y/N."

Before you know it, Joshua works his charms on Mingyu and suddenly, date night for two turns into family night for four. You watch in dismay as your date spends a full hour talking to your brother about one thing and another, actually considering setting them up for a minute. And then, Mingyu glances at his watch and sighs, telling you he needs to take off.

Joshua, devil incarnate, offers to walk Mingyu out and before you can protest, Mingyu accepts (????) and you watch helplessly as your brother leaves you alone with Wonwoo, narrowly missing the pointed look Joshua sends his best friend on his way out.

The room now silent with them gone, you stand up with a wary sigh, patting down your dress. Wonwoo's watching and you know because the first words he says that evening are, "You look beautiful tonight."

You hate how the heat creeps up your neck immediately at his beck and call. But you keep from telling him off because even that would mean you caving in.

But then he follows you to the kitchen, steps in tandem as you pretend to busy yourself with the dishes. The space between you is small though and you end up bumping into the man trying to reach for the fridge. He takes the chance and holds your wrist in his hand. "Hey," he breathes, "You won't even look at me?"

"No, I've seen enough."

"I'm assuming that includes the text I sent you tonight. And the ones before that?"

God, you hate how good Wonwoo is at frustrating you. You snap, "Don't act like this is on me, Wonwoo. You're the one who pretends like nothing's happened between us."

"Really? Because a lot's happened between us, Y/N. A lot of things that haven't happened with you and that Mingyu."

You scoff, brushing his hand off your wrist. "That is so typical of you. Coming around because you're jealous? But you can't stand to tell my brother something happened between us? What is this, a game to you?"

Wonwoo freezes when he considers what you've said. "Did Shua say something to you?"

You cross your arms, "No. I overheard you telling him. I can't believe it though. I really thought we had something good going for us."

You break away from the arm that Wonwoo raises to keep you close and throw yourself onto your couch with an exasperated sniffle. This couch sure has seen a lot, you think wistfully, silently listening as Wonwoo's footsteps came closer. He's sitting next to you then, hesitant arm around you.

"I'm sorry, Y/N, I'm really sorry. What you heard was… me being an idiot. I wasn't ready to talk about it with Shua so soon. I meant everything happened so fast. I hadn't exactly planned on falling for my best friend's sister, you know? Or kissing her in her apartment either. But it happened and I'm so glad it did. I was just slow at processing it. I'm sorry."

You groan. "It's not completely your fault, I guess. I just wish you would've talked to me about it. I felt so alone the whole time."

Suddenly Wonwoo's moving up from next to you and dropping onto his knees so that you're now meeting his eyes. He looks concerned, mouth ajar as he takes your hands in his. "Are you with Mingyu?"

You let out a sound of disbelief, "No! I'm– I just called him over because I was mad at you! I thought you thought it was a mistake so I…"

"I don't. And I never did. I'm just scared. But I shouldn't have made that your problem. I love hanging out with you though and I especially love kissing you. It would be great if you'd let me take you out on a date instead, please?"

And in that moment with Wonwoo on his knees in front of you, looking at you like you'd just told him he would live forever, you don't think you could do anything but say yes.

–

"You think we're a cliché?!"

You flinch at Wonwoo's shocked question after you'd revealed to him the mental list of clichés that you embodied in your relationship with him. He's nearly seething when he finds out you're not joking.

"Y/N, you know that's the meanest thing you could ever say to me? Am I really that bad a boyfriend?"

"Woo, my love, will you calm down?" you take one of his hands in yours, "I don't think clichés are as bad as you think they are. They're cliché for a reason! It's because they're meant to be done over and over again. They're tried and true."

"Tried and trite, more like."

"Come on, Woo, you can't act like you don't see it! From the very beginning!"

He takes a lick at his gelato and you smile when you see him softening a little. You stop walking and stand in his way, barely concerned about the strangers littering the small ice-cream shop when you press a kiss to his lips. "I love you," you mumble against his ice-cold mouth. He shoots you a look that informs you that he knows what you're doing but he shoots back, " I love you, too."

"And love itself is cliché, don't you think?"

Wonwoo closes his eyes as if in physical pain while you uncontrollably laugh. "I knew I shouldn't have fallen for that! You're trying to make me cry in public, aren't you?"

"Aww, it's okay to cry, Woo, baby. Emotions are only natural–"

"I'm calling Shua and asking him to pick you up. I'm leaving."

"Okay, I went too far. Don't make me commute with my brother, I beg you."

–

"Love, you ready to go?" you hear Wonwoo ask from the living room. You'd banished him to the couch after he'd made it his life mission to get in your way while you tried to get ready for your date. Well, double date actually. Karina was visiting you on break with her boyfriend, Taeyong, and she'd asked if you'd be down to get dinner with them. You had never agreed to dinner plans faster.

"I am," you call back, just as you smear on lipstick, checking your teeth for any missed food particles for good measure. "Can I come in now?"

You can see Wonwoo's silhouette at the door, gingerly watching you from the back for confirmation. You melt with a soft smile, beckoning him in, "Yes. Your exile's over."

Wonwoo celebrates with an exaggerated fist pump and you laugh at his antics when he skips over excitedly. "I'm a free man," he murmurs as his hands naturally slide down your arms to find your fingers. He twirls you around, admiring the black dress you broke out for the ocassion. "You look gorgeous," he says with a kiss to your cheeks.

"Are you quoting Taylor Swift at me?" you ask him with a giggle.

"Who's that?" he questions with a poorly feigned frown of confusion. You roll your eyes but open your arms invitingly, "Will you hug me?"

Hugging had gradually become your favorite part of your skinship with Wonwoo, even more so than kissing, because the way he would shoot you a loving smile before wrapping his arms around and swallowing you into a world of cozy and comfort… yeah, you don't think anything could compare easily. Sometimes, he would hum happily, the vibrations would only soothing you into the embrace further and often your boyfriend had to peel you off him so you could actually get on with your day.

Today, he lets you cling on longer than usual (he likes to say he's rationing his hugs. You tell him he's just a big tease), probably because he's busy relishing in being overwhelmed by your scent and the little kisses you sprinkle across his exposed neck. When he pulls away, you don't complain like normal, instead revealing the stars in your eyes to him. "You're warm. I love this sweater of yours."

It was the same navy sweater that had you sweating over Wonwoo back when you were still going back and forth with your feelings for each other. He chuckles in amusement and then steps away without warning, earning a whine from you. But then he tugs the sweater off and your expressions turns playful.

"Woo," you start warningly, "you know we're meeting them at the restaurant by nine–"

You're stopped mid-sentence when Wonwoo straightens out his garment and commands out, "Raise your arms for me, baby?"

But this is not his bedroom voice, no, no. This is his sappy voice and you already know what he's doing when he pulls the sweater over your head and down your torso. "It looks cute," Wonwoo comments by the time you have the sleeves pulled down properly.

"You know I hate that word, Woo," you complain but he doesn't let you, pecking your forehead. You sigh in defeat and admire the sweater in the mirror, the fabric sitting surprisingly well against the skirt of your dress. You shrug, "I suppose I can work with this new outfit."

"If not, I can always just take it off for you–"

"Okay, we're leaving before you say another word!"

Wonwoo laughs as he lets you pull him out after you, out the living room and into the hallway. He stands next to you, hands in his pocket while he waits for you to lock the door and glances at Joshua's door, wondering what his best friend was up to. You don't give a chance to do something about it though because your hands back on his arm in no time – and he swears you touch his arm for reasons beyond appropriate but you'd rather die than admit to it– and walk into the night.

You meet Karina at a place called Love in the Air and Wonwoo's had listen to you go on, super smug, about how beautifully cliché the name and ambience of the restaurant is. Each dish has a romantic origin, like the shall I compare thee to a summer's day cocktail that Karina and Taeyong share, down to the lipstick-shaped bottles of wine served to your table. And as much as Wonwoo pretends to hate the cliché of love, he still orders the matching Valentine's soup as you just so you can watch his order come out in surprise.

And as much as Wonwoo pretends he doesn't love the cliché of love, when you lean into his arm at the end of the night, already dozing off when he runs his fingers through your scalp, he can't help but let his heart soar with affection for you. And he thinks he would, after all, be in a cliché if it means to end up in your arms night after night.

AUTHOR'S NOTE:

hiii oh my god why is this fic actually long!!! i wrote in like a day too so i'm just confused... it was 3k a minute and then 29 pages the other?? that's just wonwoo magic or smth i guess... this was requested and i hope the anon who asked for this enjoys it!!! writing it made a lil sick because of how sappy it is but ... it is what it is.

and consider this me admitting that i wouldn't mind having joshua be my brother... and that's just the flavor of parasocial relationship i'm dealing with these days lol

as always: lots of love to all friends and foes !!

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sundaycentric · 3 months

Text

⌢ ⌢ yandere gojo x gn reader

␥ content — yandere, drabble, sfw, predator/prey ?, forced proximity, forced dependency, gojo is a bitch, gojo gets someone to (attempt to) hurt you, gojo treats you like a naive pet ... 760 words

Your feet ache. It feels like they are bleeding, and each time your heel hits the ground, you swear you can feel your skin tear and blister. Despite the pain, your desperation and adrenaline kept you running. You kept scurrying away, as your current agony was far, far more light compared to what awaited you if you stopped. Deep down, though, you knew you would suffer the same fate. All you were doing was delaying the inevitable: when he caught you.

Gojo never cared much for your pathetic attempts at escaping. You'd normally never get far, as he would always be able to you before you could truly begin running. Gojo would let you feel like you finally were about to do it, before shattering your dreams and taking you in his arms once more. He only laughed as you cried, and paid no mind to your weak hands hitting his chest. You were nothing compared to his strength, and no amount of fighting could get him away.

That is until you slipped away this morning. Somehow, Gojo didn't know that you were running away. Miraculously, his attention was elsewhere, and you could tell it was something serious. At least, more serious than you, since he hadn't been pestering you as much. You took your chances, and you ran. You could actually make it this time.

You didn't doubt that Gojo noticed your absence within a few minutes of you being gone, so you had to waste no time. You quickly stumbled around the buildings, taking you to the outskirts where only forest and sparse houses remained. You had left no trace of your direction, as far as you could tell, so there was no way he'd be able to trace you down. You wouldn't run into him.

But you would run into other people. Your aching feet forced you to slow down slightly. You panted slightly, making sure to survey the surroundings around you. That's when you spot someone. It wasn't Gojo. They turned around and noticed you pretty quickly. You softly smiled: perhaps they'd help you. You stumbled closer to them, desperate for some sort of shelter to hide in temporarily.

They smiled back as you came closer. You opened your mouth to speak before falling silent. They had a knife and had brought it up to you. It rested on your shoulder, the blade staring at your neck. They tightly gripped onto your weak, exhausted body. You couldn't move: you were overpowered, tired, and in shock. The person spoke up, "Has nobody ever told you to not trust strangers? You shouldn't be wandering around this late, especially looking so vulnerable. Don't worry, I'll make this quick."

Their smile grew wider as the knife grew closer. The tip caressed your skin. You shut your eyes, knowing you couldn't do anything as it came closer. Closer. Closer. And then it stopped.

You paused for a moment before opening your eyes. There was a hand around the person's throat. The one behind quickly through them to the ground and scooped you up. He caressed your neck, where a small, shallow cut lay. You recognized his hands, his touch. Gojo had found you. Part of you wished you had just died by the stranger, while another part of you was actually happy to see him.

Gojo hugged you to his chest before looking at the person on the ground. Gojo's hands that were comforting you gently cupped your ears, blocking your hearing for a moment. He said to the person, "You weren't supposed to cut them, idiot. Leave before I change my mind about staying true to my end of the deal." His voice was slightly mocking. He watched with a smile as the person left, before redirecting his attention to you.

Gojo moved his hands to your cheeks as he stared at you. He kissed the tip of your forehead. His voice was soft, but in a faux, manipulative way, "You shouldn't have run away. Do you see how dangerous it is out there? You're lucky to be with me, where I won't hurt you, yeah? It's okay, I forgive you. It was my fault for leaving a dumb pet alone without a caretaker." You only cried. You didn't know if it was from the fear of being killed, the slightly sting on your neck, or the fact that you'd been caught. But he was right, wasn't he? He didn't hurt you. Gojo loved you.

"You ran away because I wasn't giving you enough attention," He said. It was less of a question and more of a statement, trying to convince you that that was the reason you ran. He smiled wider.

"Let's go home now."

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sidekick-hero · 2 months

Text

Everyone had told Steve that college would be so much fun. Freedom from the crushing expectations of his parents breathing down his neck. Parties every weekend and a huge dating pool to choose from. An open-minded and progressive culture that made exploring his sexuality easy and fun instead of kind of suicidal like it had been in his small-minded hometown in Bumfuck Indiana.

What no one had told him was that telling his father that he didn't want to go to business school, that he wanted to teach, would result in his father refusing to pay Steve's tuition.

They didn't disown him, but his parents made it clear that they thought his time in college was a waste of time. At least as long as he was studying something his parents considered beneath a Harrington. To them, becoming a teacher basically meant becoming someone else's doormat just because he wanted to teach their kids.

So he was on his own financially, which frankly took a lot of the fun out of college. Suddenly, partying and dating had to take a back seat to the fact that paying for rent, food, and tuition meant limiting his college experience.

It meant working before or after class.

It meant working his ass off for his classes so he could graduate as soon as possible.

It meant living in the dorms instead of his own place.

Which is exactly what led to him standing outside in the middle of the night in the freezing cold of October in just his boxers and hoodie because some asshole set off the fire alarm in their building.

Steve shivered as he huddled with his fellow freezing students in the dimly lit courtyard, glancing around to see if anyone had brought extra clothes. The chilly wind cut through him, and he cursed his luck for not grabbing a coat when the fire alarm blared through the dorm. He was glad that he had his hoodie right next to his bed so grabbing it on his way out of bed was almost second nature. His sleep-shirt, even thinner and softer from constant wear, was not much in the face of the chilly October weather in Chicago.

As the students exchanged disgruntled glances and whispered complaints, Steve noticed a figure huddled alone on a bench, looking particularly uncomfortable in the cold. Squinting through the dim light, he recognized the boy who lived two doors down from him — Eddie.

All in all, they had exchanged a handful of words, for while Steve was a morning person, often up before the sun to go running, Eddie was a night person by choice. Their paths most often crossed in the wee hours of the morning, one's day beginning as the other's was ending. If Steve were telling the whole truth, he would have to admit that he had tried to time his morning runs to make it more likely that he would run into Eddie.

The guy was cute, sue him. Dimples, big chocolate brown doe eyes, dark curls often tamed into a messy bun at the back of his head so that his tantalizing collarbones peeked out from under the collar of his too-big shirts. It drove Steve a little crazy, but so far he hadn't done anything about it.

Maybe this was his chance to fix that.

Despite the biting cold, Eddie offered a shy smile as Steve approached. "Hey, Steve, right? I'd say it was good to see you, but to be honest, I like it better when I run into you in the hallway."

"Yeah, that's me," Steve replied with a small chuckle, trying to shake off the cold. "Mind if I sit here? It's freezing."

"Go ahead," Eddie said, making room on the bench.

Steve sat down and soon they were huddled together for warmth. It was surprisingly nice, even if he still wished he was somewhere warmer. In the midst of the chilly chaos that had become this random Wednesday night, Steve couldn't help but feel a strange connection forming between him and Eddie as they both sat on that lone bench watching a fire truck arrive. There was a sense of camaraderie that hadn't been present in their earlier nods and small talk in the hallway because of the shared discomfort of their current situation.

Maybe this whole ordeal could turn out to be a blessing in disguise.

They started talking, finding common ground in the shared annoyance of the fire alarm and the absurdity of being forced out into the cold in the middle of the night. As they chatted, Steve couldn't help but notice how easy it was to talk to Eddie.

"You look even colder than I do," Steve remarked after a while, having noticed that Eddie's wiry frame was shaking more and more.

"I didn't have time to grab anything. I was just about to crash when the alarm went off," Eddie explained, rubbing his hands together for warmth.

Without a second thought, Steve unzipped his hoodie and draped it over Eddie’s shoulders. "Here, it's not much, but it's better than nothing."

Eddie's eyes widened in surprise and a warmth flooded Steve's chest as he watched the boy pull the hoodie tighter around him. "Thanks, Steve. I really appreciate it. But now you don't have anything. That shirt looks good on you, but not really warm."

It's true, Steve can already feel the goosebumps on his skin, but he's not ashamed to use that as an excuse to huddle even closer to Eddie. "It's okay, really. I’m running a little hot anyway. Besides, you could help keep me warm?" He added slyly, giving Eddie a long look from under his lashes and enjoying the adorable blush that rose to his cheeks.

"It would be my pleasure, my knight in shining armor. Or rather, my knight in a Queen shirt." With that, Eddie opened the hoodie and gestured for Steve to lean in. Having hoped for such a reaction, Steve scooted even closer, wrapped his arms around Eddie's middle and let him drape the hoodie around them both.

As they sat there, sharing the hoodie and enduring the cold together, Steve found himself drawn to Eddie in a way he hadn't expected. While he'd found Eddie cute from the start, it was only now that he felt this almost magnetic pull toward the other boy, and their laughter amidst the chaos of the fire alarm only strengthened that feeling. Half an hour ago Steve had been ready to call this the worst night of his college experience and now he felt warm and safe, something settling inside him that he hadn't even realized was out of place.

Steve was in the middle of telling Eddie a story about the gaggle of kids he was babysitting at home and how they were coming to visit him soon. Just as he was telling him about his hunt for one of those weird dice sets with too many sides for the nerd game the kids were playing, they were surprised by the sudden sound of silence that filled the air.

The absence of the blaring fire alarm signaled the all-clear to return to their rooms.

As the crowd in front of them began to disperse, Eddie reluctantly started to remove the hoodie from around them, clearly wanting to give it back. Steve stopped him, though, enjoying the sight of Eddie in his hoodie far too much.

He realized he didn't want Eddie to give the hoodie back. He didn't want this night to end here and go back to his room, to his bed, alone.

"You know, I've got a coffee maker in my room. Want to warm up with a cup?" He suggested suddenly, trying to make his voice and eyes as inviting as possible as he looked hopefully at Eddie.

Eddie hesitated for a moment, his eyes searching Steve's cautiously. But something in Steve's eyes must have told him what he was looking for, making him throw caution to the wind. "Sure, why not?"

Smiling broadly, Steve grabbed Eddie's hand and started walking toward their building. He had the feeling that he should be reeling more from the whiplash he had gotten that night, but all he could feel was the joy of anticipation.

They walked back inside, leaving the cold behind, and as Steve sipped a cup of warm coffee, he realized that sometimes unexpected circumstances can lead to the most beautiful connections. Little did he know that the accidental fire alarm would be the spark that ignited a flame of love in his heart that would burn hot and bright for decades to come.

It didn't even dim when, on their wedding day, Eddie confessed during their vows that he was the one who set off the fire alarm by falling asleep with a pizza in the oven.

#steddie #steddie fanfiction #stranger things fanfiction #steddielovemonth #steve harrington #eddie munson #day 23 #Love is giving him your sweater even if it makes you cold #my writing

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natriae · 6 months

Text

ive been thinking 🤔🤔 how did you and Dilf!Toshi meet?

cw// 14 year age gap (26 & 40), y/n had a silly little celebrity crush, fluff, no smut

"come on," your friend whined while the bouncer gave you two weird looks. Recently your friend's asshole ex boyfriend finally decided to cut things off leaving you to deal with the mess left behind. She wanted absolutely nothing more than to get completely wasted and go home with a stranger.

Being the supportive friend you are you went along to keep her safe. However, now you're wishing you hadn't. Between the flashing lights, loud music, and drunk adults it was getting on your nerves. Sitting at the bar you kept your eye on your friend as she danced with several men. Not noticing the large body that sat next to you.

"are you okay?" a deep voice rang out. What caught you off guard was how it barley had any tone too it. No one is that serious at a bar. Turning to you right you watch as the olive haired man takes a sip of his drink. His hair geled back and top three buttons of his shirt undone. His biceps pulling at the fabric of his sleeves as his arm flexes. You've seen this man before just not quite sure where.

"sorry," he interrupts and bows his body in his chair, "Ushijima Wakatoshi."

You eyes widened as you realized who's in front of you. How couldn't you have noticed. In response you respectfully bow back at the older man. The alcohol that was in your body immediately fading away.

"are you alright?" he asks again, face unmoving.

"i'm okay," you respond, face flushed. Feeling embarrassed remembering how in middle school you and your friends would gawk over the Olympic players. Instantly remembering countless nights looking up photos and videos of the then 27 year old man and giggling over his handsomeness. He's gotta at least be in his forties now you thought.

You watch as he waves his hand at the bartender, "two Manhattans," he casually asks handing over a black card to pay for the drinks. Still in shock your brain can barely process what's happening let alone speak.

Before you can thank him for the drink an arm lands on your shoulder pulling you out of your daze. "hey, sexy wanna come with me?" the man asks winking at you.

"hands off," the wing spiker commands, "she uncomfortable" he adds standing up. The strangers facade clearly switches up noticing the size difference between them. Ushijima's aura alone is enough to scare someone away, but with the way his eyes squint and his thick eyebrows drawing down in disgust you're not surprised the man scoffs and walks away.

"Are you alone?" the frowning man asks crossing his arms. Seemingly squaring himself to guard you.

You try to look around his body to find your friend, but his body covers more ground than you'd think. "yeah but..." your phone lights up at a new notification. Your friend seemingly found her prey for the night and sends a photo, "nevermind she left with someone," you solemnly tell him.

"come with me," he states, dropping cash on the bar as a tip. Before you could respond he's dragging you out of the bar into the dark streets of Tokyo.

"ow," you hiss when his grip gets to strong. His body quickly stops and attentively checks your body before realizing he's the one that hurt you. You watch as his eyes glaze over before looking to the side and taking a deep breath.

"my apologies," he he breathes out bowing before you. His body doesn't more till he hears the words leave your mouth.

"it's alright, you didn't mean it," you tell him reassuringly while rubbing your red wrist.

He stands back up and stares at your face before speaking. For a forty year old man he looks an awful lot like a teenager right now. His body stiff as a board as his mouth fights to get the words out. "you are alright with...me taking you back to my place?" He asks although coming out more as a statement. You giggle at his change in demeanor amd grab his hand and begin walking.

"So where's your car number 27?"

#ushijima x reader #haikyuu #haikyuu!!#haikyuu x reader #haikyuu fluff #ushijima wakatoshi #Dilf! toshi #my toshi bear #haikyuu ushijima #haikyuu ushiwaka #wakatoshi ushijima #ushijima #ushijima fic #ushijima smut #wakatoshi smut #wakatoshi fluff #haikyuu wakatoshi #wakatoshi x reader #waka

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tarjapearce · 19 days

Note

What caused Gabriel and Miguel to fight in the Soccer Family AU?

Oh nonny 🫠.

Older Brother

Warnings: Angst, sibling relationships, emotional distress. Hurt.

Summary: Good intentions aren't always welcomed.

Art by: @justanunknownartist on X

'It's only a party, Miguel. Relax.'

That's what Gabriel had said.

'I won't drink too much.' he said but was unable to keep his end of the silent agreement between them, as Miguel helped him to his bedroom.

Someone had contacted him after Gabriel tried to start a fistfight with a random attendee just because the latter took the last shot of tequila.

"Migue" Gabriel hiccuped and stumbled on his steps, giggling as Miguel hauled him on his feet back again, but Gabriel was proving himself difficult cause he was trying to get a hold of his face.

"Gabri-" He pushed his brother's hand away and this tried harder to take a hold once again

"Compórtate, verga!" (Fucking behave)

Gabriel giggled to himself and supported his weight on Miguel's shoulders, only to be thrown later at his bed with such ease it made him even more dizzy for a second. The youngest of the O'Hara didn't think it twice and curled in his bed.

"Miguel"

Gabriel called and tried to fix his drunk gaze in him, unable to decide on which of the Miguels with him he'd talk. He went for the one that untied his shoes laces and tucked him in.

"Don't tell..." Another drunk hiccup, "Don't tell mom, ok?"

"Ya duérmete, cabrón." Miguel grumbled, more annoyed than anything. He was on his way of meeting you for your weekly corny movie night when a friend of Gabriel contacted him.

Several apologies and Te Quiero later, he drove back to fetch his dear brother that definitely would have an earful of his mind once he was sober enough to understand how bad his alcoholism was getting.

Although Miguel drank, he didn't do it as often as Gabriel did. Partying every weekend, sometimes in between working days and that had earned him a memo back at work.

It was rare and out of his character to get wasted. But Gabriel concerned him.

His red eyes regarded his brother once more, trying to figure what was going on. But communication wasn't a trait born within the O'Hara men. At least not in a proper or healthy way.

Was it a woman that had hurt him again? Probably. Although Gabriel's social butterfly skills was something he sometimes wished to have, Miguel knew it was a double edged weapon. It had granted Gabri a magnet to attract all sorts of people and not all of them were good, like their intentions.

But all Miguel could do at the moment was bringing him a tall glass of water, some painkillers and let him rest.

---

Gabriel's head throbbed. Every breath he inhaled came in synch with the neverending pounding in his head at the minimal movement, but gathered up the courage to sit on the bed to drink the pills and water.

The smell of food wafted past his bedroom's door, tickling his nose, luring him out of the bed. A sudden rush of nauseas flooded his throat and he ran towards the bathroom to soothe his discomfort.

The toilet flushed and he rinsed his mouth to then wash it. Miguel was preparing breakfast, so Gabriel washed his face, trying to give himself a less daunting and hungover look.

Although the smell made his mouth water, his stomach warned him to not eat anything. But coffee, he could do that.

Gabriel inhaled sharply when advancing towards the shelf past Miguel's swallowing frame. He took a mug and poured some of the coffee in it. Sugarless, of course.

The relief would've been almost immediate if Miguel hadn't clinked loudly a spoon on his cup. Gabriel's teeth clenched at the sudden noise.

"C'mon. Was that necessary?"

Miguel chuckled, but it quickly vanished as a frown made it's way on his face.

"Gabriel"

Miguel called but his baby brother groaned annoyed, "Not now, Migue. Please."

"Then when, cabrón?!" Miguel roared and Gabriel tightened his grip on his mug, unable to meet him directly in his eyes.

He had fucked up, that much was true.

"¡Es la tercera puta vez que uno de tus amigos me llama para que te vaya a recoger porque te pusiste hasta el culo de borracho y quieres andar de pendejo madreándote a la gente! ¿Qué verga te pasa?" (it's the third fucking time one of your friends call me cause you've gotten wasted and you wanna fuck around and fight people. The fuck's wrong with you?)

And for Miguel to go full on spanish on him, meant he was sick of it.

"Ya, ya te oí. Cállate. No lo volveré a hacer." (Alright, alright. I heard you. Shut up. Won't do it again.)

"Bullshit. You think I don't know about the memos? About the fucking warnings you get at your work cause you go and present yourself hungover."

"It was one fucking time! One!"

"Still enough for you to start losing your credibility, pendejo!"

Gabriel clicked his tongue and gulped down the coffee.

"Is it because of that woman Kasey?"

She had dumped him yet again matter-of-factly. And oh how well Miguel could read him. Gabriel wasn't friends with rejection after all and he rather indulge things that kept him busy, like alcohol and other new companies than openly talk.

"Dude, fucking stop acting like mom-

Miguel couldn't help but fist his hands on each side of himself, trying to ground himself at the sudden fit of rage that worked hard to get to his brain.

Why? Why his beloved Ma always had to screw things for him even when she wasn't present?

"Why the fuck you always bring her up?"

"Cause that shuts you up! God you're so annoying at times, Miguel. Always wanting to control everything around you!."

"Cause I fucking care! Do you see mom around with you when you get fucking drunk and all full of puke? No, you see me. She's too fucking busy doing her life away from us."

Gabriel's anger rose faster than a self rising flour, increasing it's density with each word Miguel spilled. He wasn't in the mood to be lectured, and his ammo to shut his elder brother was running short.

"I still talk to her, that says alot on it's own."

"But of course you would! She tolerates your shit and still treats you like a baby while I'm the one that deals with the whole mess none of you has the fucking guts to face!"

"None fucking asked you to!"

Oh, but now it was personal. Gabriel regretted a bit too late the words, cause Miguel's eyes narrowed dangerously at him, but once his temper, George's trademark on his blood, shone through; nothing could stop it. Not even the flash of hurt crossing Miguel's eyes.

"You say you care? All I can see is you tearing people apart with your... your fucking snarky replies and being a hypocrite." Gabriel hissed

"Hypocrite maybe, but not ungrateful." Miguel's red irises hardened and turned devoid of any emotion

"I never asked you to do shit for me, Miguel!"

Yet he would crawl to his bed when a storm was too much to bear on his own lonely bed. Yet he'd be the one that would hold and soothe him when Conchata argued nonstop with George and things got two rowdy between them. Yet he was and always been there for him, selflessly, ever since he was able to think on his own.

Miguel was by any mean perfect, but he was there, watching him grow up, supporting him in his own way. Taking the mantle that neither his Ma or Papa were functional enough to wear, despite his young age.

But he couldn't turn back time and bite those words back. Cause that would spare him the deep plunge in his heart at the sight of Miguel turning his back on him, shoulders defeated and jaw clenched. He nodded a couple of times before placing all his attention the now cold breakfast before him.

"I think it's time for you to start looking for a place."

Miguel's deflated tone sent a chill down his spine. Gabriel's mouth and heart was still on fight mode.

"Now you're just being petty."

But even that biting remark didn't make Miguel flinch or look at him. Just earned him a disappointed shake of his head and a chuckle that could be mistaken for a sob.

"No, you ain't worth it. Just taking my new relationship seriously. I've got other things to deal with than doing this on a regular basis with you. I... I think I do deserve a bit of peace too."

Gabriel's eyes bore into Miguel's back as he talked, silently pleading to look at him. But this time, his elder brother didn't spare him a glance, not even a disdainful one. He had hurt more than Miguel's pride.

"Have it your way then."

Gabriel left him. Leaving some minutes later after the fresh altercation.

Ungrateful as he was, Gabriel knew when to give him space. Once he was sure Gabri had been gone, his throat released a shaky breath.

His hands shook as he grabbed his phone, quickly wiping the liquid pain that blurred his sight to then dial your number.

"I'm on my way. Need to..." he cleared his throat. "I need to talk. Ok?" A brief silence, "Hmm. Need anything over there?"

He wiped his face once more and bit his lip for a second.

"Gotcha. Ya te llego." (I'll be there soon)

#t writes✨#miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara x reader #soccer family ⚽🕷️#atsv miguel #mama o'hara #gabriel o'hara #miguel ohara angst

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runnning-outof-time · 3 months

Note

Hi K, congratulations on 3.5K once again!!!! Saw you reblogging your celebration post, reminded I hadn't sent anything in yet due to a busy schedule. Anyway, I'd like to request a blurb for John with the prompt number 10. ''Look at me.''

You're awesome. And hope you have an amazing week this week :)

Thanks so much for sending this in, Merel @twvstedsouls !! I’m sorry it took me so long to write it! Enjoy! :)

I’D LOVE TO KNOW WHAT YOU THINK! - YOUR COMMENTS & REBLOGS HELP ME WRITE!

Part of my 3.5k Celebration — find more stories here!

I Don’t Care What They Say

John Shelby x Reader

Warnings: none

Word Count: 736

Summary: John hears what he needs the most after learning about (Y/N)’s parents’ opposition of their engagement.

“Why the long face, darlin’?” John Shelby asked his fianceé a few seconds after she entered the room he’d been sitting in. He immediately nodded the downcast expression that she was wearing and wasted no time getting to the bottom of what was bothering her.

“I don’t want to talk about it, John,” she answered with a sigh as she took her coat off and hung it up by the door. “It’s nothing, really. There’s not much that can be done about it. It’ll pass over.”

“It’s not ‘nothing’ if it’s got you looking like that. So what’s wrong?” he gently prodded her for the answer.

(Y/N) finally looked in his direction, and she stood still for a few moments, thinking on whether she should share the conversation she’d just had. John had an expectant look on his face, one that told her she wasn’t getting out of this so easy. So with a sigh, she dropped her gaze to the floor. It’d be easier for her to get it out if she didn’t see his reaction.

“My parents don’t agree with our engagement.”

The breath got stuck in John’s throat. It felt like the world had stopped for a moment as her words sunk into his mind. His eyebrows scrunched together as he tried to make sense of it. “What…what did they say?” he stumbled on his words, not sure if he wanted to hear more about it or not.

“They said that you’re no good for me. That I can find someone much better than you,” she answered, her heart breaking as she watched him process what she was saying. The words left such a bad taste in her mouth, and repeating them made her recount the long lecture her parents had given her about her choice.

John blinked a few times, trying to wrap his head around what her parents had said about their engagement. Thoughts started seeping in; ones telling him that he actually wasn’t good enough for her, and that she was going to heed to her parents advice. He dropped his eyes to the floor, swallowing thickly as he brought his hand up. He waved it around as he tried to think of what he wanted to say next. “And what do you say?…about our engagement,” he asked, squeezing his eyes shut for extra measure. He didn’t want to see her reaction.

If it wasn’t broken before, (Y/N)’s heart shattered at the sound of his voice as he forced his question out. She could tell that his mind was reeling; that he was fighting so hard to keep himself together. “Hey,” she called out, hoping to get his attention, but to no avail. “John. Look at me,” she continued, not wanting to say anything else without his eyes on hers. She wanted him to see how much she meant every word.

Slowly John lifted his eyes to meet hers again. He placed his hands on his knees, bracing himself for what would come next. It was in that moment that he wished he could be more like Tommy or Polly, so that he’d be able to read her expression and gain some clues from it.

After what felt like minutes of waiting, (Y/N) spoke again. “I don’t care what they say about our engagement. I’m marrying you, John Shelby,” she said, her words ringing out loud and clear. “They don’t have control over what I do. I’m old enough to make my own choices, and I choose you. I’m always going to choose you.”

“You are?” he just had to check, well aware that he sounded like a child in doing so.

“Yes,” she nodded, “I can’t wait to marry you. Nothing anyone says against it is going to change my mind.”

A breath of relief left John’s lips then, and all of the built up tension quickly resolved within seconds. “You have no idea how happy hearing you say that makes me, (Y/N),” he told her, shaking his head as a relieved smile formed on his face.

“You have no idea how happy you make me, John,” she countered, moving over to where he was sitting as a similar smile formed on her face. “Me and you…no one else matters.”

“No one else matters,” he repeated the ending of her statement, standing from his seat so that he could kiss her.

*tags in reblog so they hopefully get sent out

MASTERLIST

#john shelby #john shelby x reader #john shelby x y/n #john shelby x you #john shelby blurb #john shelby imagine #john shelby fanfic #john shelby fanfiction #peaky blinders #peaky blinders x reader #peaky blinders x y/n #peaky blinders x you #peaky blinders blurb #peaky blinders imagine #peaky blinders fanfiction #peaky blinders fanfic #fanfiction #fanfic #k’s 3.5k celebration

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captain-mj · 4 months

Text

Just SoapGhost being healthy and shit. Ghost is open about his problems with intimacy and touch and they work through it.

Ghost sat across from Soap, watching him silently. He was beautiful. Kind. Fierce. Everything he looked for in a partner.

Their date had been perfect. Soap picked a restaurant He thought they’d both like and he’d been a stupid fucking gentleman, even going so far as to request a secluded booth for privacy.

Ghost tapped his fingers against the table, feeling very nervous. This was a first date. He didn’t have to bring this up. But if he waited, it would hurt more for both of them. Especially if Soap couldn’t handle it.

“Johnny.”

Soap paused his chatter to look at him. “Simon. Don’t use your serious voice right now. I got other plans after this! You can’t end the date so soon!”

Ghost smiled at him softly. “No. I don’t want the date to end.” He sat back. “Its something else. I just… don’t want to lead you on.”

Soap frowned. “What do you mean?”

Ghost tapped his fingers for another second, surprisingly having to gain the courage to say this. “If we never had sex, do you think you could handle it?” He refused to look at Soap.

“I… I don't know. I guess I hadn't thought about it. Is it the mask thing? We can find work arounds. I'm okay with whatever makes you comfortable.” Soap reached over and grabbed Ghost’s hand. “Whatever boundaries You need.” It was so sweet. It made it harder for Ghost to push but he knew it wasn’t fair to let Soap have some… misconception.

“Its not the mask. Johnny, I’d take the mask off for you right now if we were alone. I have… issues. Let’s leave it at that for now.”

“Don’t tell me you can’t get it up. I’m just fine topping.” Soap joked, clearly trying to lighten the mood but also make it clear that wouldn’t bother him.

Ghost took Soap’s hand and kissed it softly. “Intimacy. Its the touch. I wish it was that easy. I could pop a fucking pill and ignore it. The mask is part of it, but Johnny, a lot of… horrible things happened to me. And some of them.” Ghost cut himself off at the horrified expression on Soap’s face

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. Trust me I don’t believe you’ll try it or anything. I know you’re not an idiot. But… touch is hard for me. You’re an exception. Usually. But what happens when its more than just your hands? When there’s no clothes between us? No buffers. I’d love to believe I’m fine. That it’ll be easy. But it won’t. I’ll have to initiate things. Put up boundaries.”

Soap was quiet, clearly mulling over his words. “Do you not want to try at all?” It was light. Purposely devoid of tone so Ghost couldn’t detect anything. He hated that Soap could pull that off. For a man so open, it was an unexpected talent.

“I want to try. Just… if i never get there, i don’t want you to have wasted your time.”

Soap softened. “No time with you is wasted.”

Ghost sighed. “You’re so sweet. It’s complicated. I just didn’t want you to go into this thinking it would be easy.”

“Never easy with us, Lt. But I’ll get it figured out.” Soap smiled at him.

~~~

The very first time they properly touched each other was Ghost initiated, just as they talked about. His hand went to Soap’s back as he was talking to someone. They were just getting a bit close and he decided he needed to do something about it.

The moment he was touching Soap’s, the man basically purred and the unwanted pest trying to catch Soap’s attention quickly got the message. Ghost rubbed his thumb in circles as Soap melted into him. When the man left, Ghost gently pulled his hand away, not missing that Soap tried to follow.

~~~

Their first kiss was messy. It was mid mission. And it occurred to Ghost that their situation had suddenly gotten so much dire than expected.

The hood he was wearing, along with the blades, made him look scarier than he was. But not to Soap. Never to Johnny, who kept smiling at him even when everyone else seemed to panic.

Ghost knew he needed to do this. An epiphany of sorts.

“Everyone stare at the damn wall.” He barked and people scrambled. Soap went to as well but he stopped him. Ghost gently turned him towards him and, with as little thinking as he could manage, worried he’d talk himself out of it, he kissed him through the mask. It wasn’t the best. If he could, he would’ve taken it off, but they didn’t have time.

Soap froze in his arms before eagerly pressing back as much as he could. His arms went up to his biceps and he squeezed tight. “What was that for?”

“Just… in case.”

Soap nodded solemnly before grinning wildly. “Let’s go get him.”

That night, when they were done with the mission, Ghost took his mask off and gave Soap a proper kiss. It got no farther, they just kept kissing, hands barely touching each other. Soap’s kept hovering right over Ghost’s shoulders, holding just a hint of apprehension.

Ghost didn’t reassure him.

~~~

Holding hands came after. For some reason. Somehow it was easier for Ghost to kiss rather than touch hands.

Soap’s hand wormed over to him, sitting between them now. His hand just barely brushed against Ghost’s thigh and he jumped so hard he almost rattled the table. Soap went to pull away but Ghost caught him by his wrist, gently tugging him closer until he sat his hand in his lap. Carefully, with the same care taken for defusing a bomb, Ghost tangled their fingers together. Even through his gloves, he could feel his warmth.

It felt uncomfortable. He didn’t want to be touching right now. But like usual, Soap was… better than anyone else. And he could put up for it if it meant Johnny kept smiling like that.

~~~

Sex.

Fuck.

Ghost had… agreed to try. Soap had simply asked him what their plans for the night were when he informed him of this. He had blushed bright red and just nodded.

Ghost was regretting all of this when he actually stood in his own bedroom.

Soap smiled at him reassuringly. “What do you want to keep on? Let’s start there.”

“Everything.”

“Okay. You can just undo your pants for now. And what would you like me to take off?”

Ghost swallowed and thought about it for a minute. “All of it. Take off everything.”

Soap’s breath caught and he slowly started to strip down, maintaining eye contact the entire time. He was gorgeous. Nice, tight body. Broad shoulders and so much tanned skin.

Ghost took a deep breath and slowly let it all out. It was just Johnny. Just him.

“What do you want from me, Si?” Johnny asked softly, his body already happily reacting. Despite what Ghost was seeing as the most awkward encounter of his life, Soap was achingly hard. “I’d do anything for ya. You know that.”

Ghost reached for him, gloves abandoned at the very least. Soap’s body was… very responsive. He jerked and his breathing would catch and just a small brush against his chest had Soap’s nipples hard. His thumb rubbed against one and Soap tried to press into him.

Ghost pushed him on to the bed and gently used his hands to stroke him. He could tell Soap was a little disappointed it was just his hands but he just needed a minute to psych himself up for more. Soap moaned softly as he kept stroking him.

“Feels good, sir. Feels so good.”

Ghost’s head started to swim. He was hard. He could tell physically he was enjoying but mentally, he felt miles away.

There was blood. Had to be. He was bleeding and hurt and someone else was gonna hu-

Soap grabbed his hoodie and pulled him closer. “I love you, Simon.”

Ghost was taken back by that but he pulled up his mask and kissed him. They settled into a rhythm as Ghost continued to stroke him. He grabbed one of Soap’s hands and pulled it under his shirt so Soap could feel his abs. Soap cursed and squeezed him.

“I love you so much. I love you. So much.” Soap promised as he kissed his lips and down his chin. “You’re beautiful.”

Ghost wanted to sob for some reason. But god did he love Soap. He pulled his mask completely off and started to kiss down his chest. Soap’s hands tangled in his hair instead, gently tugging.

Ghost pulled away, feeling his cock strain against his pants. He pinned him down and stroked him faster, finding himself rutting against Soap’s thigh. So good… Fuck so good.

They kissed and tangled themself together further. Soap’s hand found it’s way to his belt he undid it and slipped it off. He reached into Ghost’s pants and as soon as he touched him, all thoughts flew out the window. It was just them.

Ghost didn’t last very long. He was a bit embarrassed so he just focused on Soap. Tentatively, he licked a stripe up Soap’s cock and his lover followed immediately, coming all over his chest. His face was flushed and he bit his lip to keep any sounds in. Ghost could feel how tense he was beneath him as he finished.

“I love you, Johnny.”

He got a short affirmative in response.

#call of duty #call of duty modern warfare #simon ghost riley #johnny soap mactavish #call of duty modern warfare ii #cod mw2 #ghostsoap #cod #soapghost #ghoap

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wlntrsldler · 20 days

Note

I know, this is gonna hurt our hearts.

But PLEASEEEEEE 🙏🙏🙏🙏🙏🙏🙏🙏🙏🙏🙏🙏

could you write something that includes

A scene of Y/n and Annabeth after Luke’s betrayal and Annie ask’s Y/n to change her Hair style since Luke isn’t there to do it.

Luke and Y/n were inlove and obviously Annabeth and Y/n are close but Annie made Y/n earn her love just like Thalia did with Annabeth 😭

i wish i hated you | luke castellan

i. hoping life brings you no new pain. i rearrange my memories. i try to rewrite our life.

when annabeth found you in the ares cabin, tears streaming down her face, she looked at you in a way that she hadn't in years. there was anger in her eyes, betrayal and hurt evident on her features. the last time she looked at you like this was when you returned from your quest from your father, nearing death.

you'd woken up with annabeth sitting on the corner of your bed, nearly dozing off as she sat up. luke had been released from the infirmary days prior and was immediately sent off to tend to his counselor duties, much to his dismay. he made annabeth promise him that she'd be by your side when he couldn't be. he didn't want you to wake up alone.

when she saw you groggily wake, she jolted from her seat, face morphing in concern then anger when you had the audacity to smile at her. she burst into tears, repeating the words, "i hate you!"

alarmed, you immediately wrapped your arms around the nine-year-old's body, trying to get her to calm down. she balled her hands into fists, trying not to hit you as you were healing from your wounds.

"annie, what's wrong?" you asked, confused at what could've made the girl so angry. "what's happening?"

"y-you promised!" she sobbed, clutching onto your blood-soaked shirt. "you promised me you'd be careful! you promised that nothing bad would happen to you. you promised."

two days ago, you were thrown around by a minotaur, breaking nearly every bone in your body and were coughing up blood, but somehow, hearing the brokenness in annabeth's voice hurt more than all of your injuries. you thought about the promise you and luke made to her before you went off on your quest; a promise that she would not lose another family-figure in her life, like she'd lost thalia, a promise that you'd return in a few days, triumphant and ready to teach her how to improve her aim in archery, a promise that you'd come back with stories from the city and your first real date with her brother outside of camp.

"they said you died," she cried, rubbing her eyes with her hands, "they said that your heart stopped working."

"annie, i'm okay," you tried to tell her, hoping that your words would bring her some sort of comfort. "see? i'm okay."

"but you weren't," annabeth replied. her big brown eyes looked up at you, bottom lip quivering. she was shaking. "l-luke hasn't slept in days."

your heart dropped at the mention of luke's name. he refused to let you go on the quest without him, even going so far as to bribe the person you chose to let him switch places with them. you refused at first, but quickly learned that your efforts were wasted. once luke castellan made his mind up about something, there was no room for argument.

that's how it was with you. the minute luke realized how he felt about you, there was no pulling back for him. he loved you, truly, deeply, completely. it was something that everyone at camp knew, annie especially. she'd seen the way her brother looked at you, how he cared for you. you were it for him.

so when you and luke returned to camp, unconscious, all annabeth could think about were her first days at camp half blood, watching her brother fight for his life while mourning the loss of thalia. it was a type of pain that was too much to carry for a seven-year-old, and it didn't get any easier two years later.

a year after your quest, when luke returned from his failed one, annabeth said the same words to him when he found her at breakfast. i hate you. but it was the furthest thing from what she actually meant. luke sulked on your bed for days, partly because the whispers and judgment from the campers was beginning to be too much for him, and partly because he felt like he was losing his family again.

now, as a twelve-year-old annabeth marched into the ares cabin, ignoring the complaints of your siblings, those words left her lips again.

"did you know?"

you sat up in your bed, confused, "know what?"

"about luke."

"what about luke?"

she furrowed her eyebrows, head tilting to analyze your face. you looked calm, worn out from the day's festivities, and ready for bed. you wore the bracelet that luke made you for your anniversary on your right wrist, where it permanently stayed on your body since you received it. annabeth bit her bottom lip, trying not to cry. she was exhausted.

"he did it," she whispered, knowing with just one look at you that you had no part in luke's plan. "he stole the bolt."

you froze for a second, then you let out a strained laugh, shaking your head, "good one, annie."

you fluffed your pillows behind you, trying to keep yourself busy because your thoughts were rushing at a million miles an hour. you began thinking of luke's distance, his coldness towards you, his secrets that you knew he kept. you tried to tell yourself it was just because he was tired of being at camp half blood, being 19 and shackled to this life, but you should've known it was more than that. you just didn't want to believe it.

"y/n," annabeth gulped, placing a hand on yours. you stopped your actions, looking at the broken girl in front of you. her tears left streaks down her face.

your eyes pooled with tears, engulfing her in a hug. she buried her head into the crook of your neck, letting go of her tough facade and sobbed into your arms. you wanted to do the same, but you couldn't. not right now. she needed you to be strong.

annabeth slept on your bed while you stayed up, unable to close your eyes to rest. you were afraid of the dreams you would have tonight. your dreams always starred luke castellan, whether they be replays of the memories the two of you made, jumping into the cold water of the lake to escape the summer heat, or training with each other but getting too distracted in the love of it all that your 5-minute breaks turned into hours of pointless conversations, pretending that the both of you lived a normal life.

you weren't ready to have those dreams tainted. not yet.

ii. our shadows dance in a parallel plane. just two different endings, you learn to repair and i learn to keep me in one place.

"annie, what's got you so worked up today?" you asked, nudging the girl. she'd been giving everyone attitude all day, including you, and you didn't know why.

"nothing," she replied, shaking her head. she piled her food on her tray and walked away from you.

you dropped the serving spoon and followed her, "annabeth chase."

annabeth flinched knowing that you only used her full name when she crossed a line. she sighed and turned around to face you. you placed your tray on the table, crossing your arms over your chest as you waited for her to explain.

"it's just--" she sighed, her voice suddenly quiet, "some girls were saying stuff about my hair and i know it's not looking its best right now so i've been really on edge about it."

"who was it?" your tone was cold and it made annabeth's eyes widen.

when annabeth first met you, she was guarded. she was mourning the loss of thalia and she was mad at luke for being so open with you so quickly, as if you could somehow take thalia's place. she pushed you away, partly because she was too scared to care for another person the way she did and lose them, lose you. she learned that in the life of a half-blood loss is normal. it's expected. but it didn't make it hurt any less.

you, more stubborn than anyone she'd ever met, kept trying to break into her world and it wasn't long before annabeth felt her resolve crumbling. how could she not when you cared for her more than she deserved with how she treated you? how could she not when you were the first person to bring a real smile to her brother's face? how could she not when she watched luke fall in love with you with every giggle, every stolen look, every squeeze on his hand?

and you loved annabeth like she was your own flesh and blood. you knew that she and luke were a package deal, a family, and you welcomed her with open arms. you grew protective of annabeth. you became the voice of reason in luke's head when he took his older brother duties too seriously, like the time she developed her first crush, or when she was named head counselor despite her young age. annabeth knew she could count on you.

"y/n, it's fine," she gulped, voice dripping with resignation, "it's not just that, i guess--uh, luke used to do my hair, remember? and since he's been gone, i haven't found anyone to do it for me."

"yeah, i remember," you muttered, looking down at your feet for a moment. you'd walked into the hermes cabin and found luke braiding annabeth's hair a few times. annabeth would be sitting crisis cross on luke's bed, talking his ear off as he nodded along from behind her, only half paying attention to what she was saying because he was too focused on getting the young girl's hair perfect.

you'd lean against the doorframe and admire them until they noticed your arrival. if you drowned out the bunks along the walls of the cabin and muffled the sounds of campers running around outside, they were the perfect picture of a brother and sister living a normal life, close as can be.

annabeth would be the first to notice you and she'd tilt her head up in greeting that had luke grumbling because "she needed to sit still," but then his eyes would follow annabeth's line of vision and a smile would appear on his face. you'd sneak a kiss to his lips that had the girl grimacing despite not seeing it happen, and you and luke would laugh, before you would take your place on the stool in front of annabeth. she'd have the conversation with you then and luke could focus on his task.

"do you..?" you trailed off, clearing your throat. "do you want me to try to do your hair?"

"would you?" she asked, hopeful. it was more than just her hair that she was asking about. those moments when luke and her would sit in the hermes cabin together were some of her favorite memories. she missed talking to him about anything and everything. mostly about his relationship with you. she'd give him ideas for dates, things that you'd like, and he'd enthusiastically thank her, even if he already had those things in mind.

annabeth just needed a sibling. she had plenty in the athena cabin, sure, but she wanted a sibling that wasn't obligated to call her a sister, but rather chose to because they wanted her. you'd never once made her feel unwanted.

"i can try," you said, sending her a shy smile. "i can't promise i'll be great at it, but we can go to the ares cabin after we eat?"

"that sounds good," annabeth replied. there was sorrow swimming in her eyes, a longing that you'd seen when you first met her at camp half blood. "thank you, y/n."

the hunch to her posture made your throat close up. it was a heavy burden for her to carry and if it was up to you, you'd shoulder it on your own to free her from it. "don't mention it, annie."

iii. no matter how guilty i still feel saying it, i wish i hated you.

"y/n?"

you rolled over in your bed, rubbing your tired eyes. in the moonlight, you saw annabeth's silhouette at the edge of your bed. she was wearing her pajamas and hoodie. the braids you did on her two weeks ago cascaded down her back.

you sat up in bed, "what's up, annie? it's late. you should be in your own cabin."

"i know, but i couldn't sleep," she rocked back and forth on her feet. you wondered if you ever looked this young. annabeth was always larger than life when she was with the other campers, a warrior, head counselor, the wisest daughter of athena, but there were moments like this one where it was evident that she was just a child. alone and terrified. "do you think we can take a walk?"

you were slipping your feet into your shoes before you could answer, you nodded and tiptoed out of the cabin, careful not to wake your siblings. you let annabeth lead the way as you softly shut the door to the cabin. there was a bite in the air, a soft breeze that swayed the leaves on the trees. you tugged on the sleeves of the sweater you always slept in, running your fingers over the loose threads from being worn out.

the sweater was luke's. he left it in his drawers when he left camp that night and nobody dared to touch the former counselor's things. his side of the hermes cabin stayed frozen in time; an unmade bed with wrinkles in his sheets, his left shoe poking out from underneath his bed frame, pictures of you and him messily taped to the walls.

"do you think he thinks about us? about camp?" she asked. her voice was so soft you almost didn't hear it. the hooting of the owls was louder than the voice of the girl beside you. "do you think he regrets what he did?"

your mouth felt dry. you blinked a few times, pulling down the sleeve of your sweater to touch the bracelet that you still couldn't bring yourself to get rid off. you licked your chapped lips, wincing at the pain from the cracks, "i-i don't know, annie. it's hard to say."

"well what does your heart tell you?" she tilted her head to look at you. "you know him better than anyone else. what do you think?"

"i like to think that he does," you settled for that. you didn't know if luke regretted his decision. you haven't seen him since that day, not since he placed a longing kiss to your lips, which felt like an omen now that you look back at it, before disappearing to talk to percy.

it was hard to think about what luke was feeling now, but you like to think that he did miss you, miss annabeth, even percy. you know you would if you were in his position. but maybe luke had changed. maybe he wasn't the person you'd grown to love anymore. the thought of it made you ill. would you recognize him if he appeared in front of you right now?

you always believed that in every life you'd know luke. the threads of your life, your being, your existence, would always cross somehow, some way. you believed that you'd recognize him by the sound of his steps, confident and strong, but gentle enough to not incite panic or danger. you'd recognize him by the sound of his breaths, even and calm, except when he would be near you, then it would falter for a second like you'd knocked the air out of his lungs. you'd recognize him by the smell of the air, easy and light, like how it felt to love him.

but you didn't know anymore.

"do you hate him?"

the foliage under your feet crunched under the weight of you as you trudged through the cabin grounds. the sounds of camp seemed to subside as if the whole world was waiting for your answer. your voice wavered when you finally found the courage to speak, "i wish i did."

there was an understanding that settled between you and annabeth as she followed your steps. the world resumed, as it always did. the two of you here in camp half blood and luke somewhere else out there in a place that neither of you could reach. she looked out into the mountains, "me too."

#frances replies #frances writes #luke castellan imagine #luke castellan pjo #luke pjo #luke castellan fanfic #luke castellan #luke castellan x reader #luke castellan x you #luke castellan x yn #luke castellan x y/n #this one hurt #frances song fics

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thelov3lybookworm · 5 months

Text

Remember me? (Part 9)

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8

Summary: Under the Mountain, Y/n met the High Lord of the Night Court, Rhysand. She was scared of him, but soon she found out that he wasn't who he pretended to be. Despite her efforts at not falling in love with him, she fails. It's not that bad as he loves her back.

But now he's gone, and she's left alone with nothing.

Except for a very adorable reminder of him.

•○●⛦●○•

Tw: secret pregnancy, none more that I can think of, so let me know if I need to add anything.

A/n: Aight y'all. This thing contains some heavy themes i guess, so this one can be skipped if you want. this part is basically a filler chapter.

This picks up one month after the last part ended.

Andddd....

Here we go.

•○🌑○•

Feyre's pov.

Feyre was walking home from her art studio, Nyx hopping along next to her. The day was beautiful, not too bright, not too cloudy. It was a perfect day to go out with her family on a picnic and simply enjoy their company and thank the mother for her blessings.

Or at least it would have been a good day for that if her family hadn't been falling apart.

Rhys had been pulling away more than ever. He had become detached from reality, drinking his days away and being locked up in his office all day. He had become more snappy than ever, yelling and throwing a fit at the smallest inconveniences.

A few days ago, he had punched and cracked a wall because his food was too hot.

Rhys was... he going mad. There was no other was to put it.

He did not want to be talked to, and if he found someone looking at him for longer than a moment, he would snarl like a wild beast. His appearance had also become... worse.

He looked so sick, like he would drop dead at any moment.

A loud gasp drew Feyre from her thoughts, and she looked down to find Nyx staring wide eyed at a spot on the ground nearby.

"Nyx?" Feyre questioned gently, trying to get his attention.

Nyx snatched his hand away from his mother's, sprinting away when Feyre tried to grab his hand again.

"Nyx! What are you doing?"

She followed Nyx, walking briskly behind him. She slowed to a stop when he did, watching as the little boy bent down.

A moment later, he drew up again, a huge, adorable grin on his face.

In his hands was a smooth, white rock. He held it gingerly, both his hands cupped, like holding it too tightly would shatter the beautiful thing.

"Papa would love this mommy."

Her heart melted and shattered at the same time.

But she couldn't bring herself to tell him that Rhys probably wouldn't care, so far lost in his head was he.

"Yes darling, he would love it."

Nyx gave her a toothy grin in return, turning back to the ground as he searched for something. He bent down again, and when he came up this time, he held a smaller rock in his hand and held it out to Feyre.

"This one is for Finnie. I will give it to him when we meet again."

Feyre nodded, plastering on a smile for the sake of her son as she agreed to meeting Fin soon.

But deep down, she knew she wished the two boys never met again. Because there were only two circumstances under which they could meet, and neither were favourable.

The first would be if Y/n returned to the night court, and Feyre knew that wouldn't happen as Y/n didn't want Rhys to mess with her or her son's life ever again.

And the second would be if Feyre left Rhys.

And she wished that it never came to that.

It wasn't that she didn't believe Y/n. At first she hadn't, but then Y/n had showed Feyre her memories, and Feyre had to believe her, no matter how much she wanted it all to be a lie. Because fabricating someone's memories was too hard and even unheard of.

Feyre told herself Rhysand's weird behaviour was only the result of heartbreak, of finding out he had another son all along.

She hoped he would go back to normal, that one day he would wake up and realise how bad his condition had been becoming, how he had been weeping and wasting away for something he could never have and throwing away everything he did have for the illusion of happiness.

As she reached the door of the river house, she wiped away all her thoughts and simply focused on getting Nyx to go to sleep. Or do anything but stay away from his father.

Rhys would probably yell at the little boy if he was in a foul mood, and Feyre simply could not handle watching her son cry.

"Hey Nyx, why don't we make cookies? Would you like that?"

Nyx nodded happily. "Yes mommy. We can do that after I give papa this stone."

"No Nyxie. Can we not give papa the stone later? Or I can give it to him." Feyre offered.

Nyx held the stone away from Feyre, shielding it with his body as he frowned. "No. I will give it to papa."

Before Feyre could try more to convince him, he ran off, climbing the stair as fast as his ittle legs would carry him.

She followed him, making as little noise as possible. Because in the past few weeks, even the littlest noises had been triggering her mate's urge to destroy everything in sight.

"Nyx! Nyx, slow down!" She whispered, frantically reaching for him. He had already reached the landing, and now ran to his father's office.

The door was slightly ajar, and Nyx pushed it open the rest of the way in his haste to give the stone to his father himself.

Feyre reached the door, her heart beating in her throat, just in time to see Nyx reach his hands up, the stone cupped in them, towards Rhys, who was staring down at the little boy, his eyebrows raised.

Rhys took the stone, inspecting it carefully before a nonchalant look crossed his features, and Feyre immediately knew that he was going to throw the rock away and either yell at Nyx or dismiss him entirely.

Feyre didn't want to see her boy sad, and so she reached out with her daemati powers and knocked on the mighty walls of the fortress surrounding Rhys's mind.

He glanced up, irritation evident in his eyes, but he let her speak to him through a small window that he created.

Please don't hurt him. Please pretend.

Rhys cocked his head, and Feyre could practically see the wheels turning in his head, and a sense of dread gripped Feyre when a slow smirk spread across Rhysand's face.

Sure, Feyre. He purred in her mind before he looked down at the little boy, who stared up at his father with a hopeful smile on his face.

"This is beautiful, my boy. Thank you so much." And with that, Rhys pocketed the rock, and Nyx giggled, turning to Feyre with the biggest toothy grin ever.

"Mommy, are we going to make cookies now?"

Before Feyre could respond, Rhysand cut in. "How about you do it with Nuala and Ceridwen? I have an important thing to discuss with mommy."

Nyx nodded, then sprinted away to the stairs, and as Feyre watched him go, the dread coiling around her heart felt like a vise.

"What did you want to talk about?" She asked once Nyx was out of sight, and Rhys gestured at her to come in and lock the door. She did so without questioning him.

The moment the lock clicked shut, Rhys prowled forward, his hands landing on the sides of Feyre's shoulders, caging her in against the door. He leaned down, his hot breath washing over the side of her face as he whispered directly in her ear.

"It's been so long since we've had some alone time," A pause as he began to peel her clothes off of her. "Y/n darling."

•○🌑○•

Feyre stared at the beams of moonlight across the ceiling, tears running down the sides of her face and into her hair.

She was ashamed and disappointed in herself, and as she curled into a ball on her side, she considered peeling off her skin and setting fire to it.

She sniffled quietly, her mind refusing to think of anything but the past few hours, when Rhys had touched her, worshipped her like he were a devoted male and she a goddess.

Except hers was not the name he chanted in his prayers.

No, it was of his former lover, and for some reason, she had not been able to push him off of her or do anything to let him know she did not want him to touch her while he was lost in the thoughts of another female.

Rhys had wounded Feyre's heart for nearly half the night, and she could do nothing about it.

Worse were the way he'd rubbed salt on her wounds after the whole ordeal, telling her she was nothing compared to her. That Feyre could never be her, and that it really was a waste of time to have pursued Feyre to see if a mate was worth loosing Y/n over when he could have been with Y/n all along.

Every muscle in Feyre's body clenched as she tried to quiet her sobs so as not to wake him as he slept peacefully at her back.

Feyre didn't know what to do.

Slowly, her mind drifted to that day a month ago, when she and Y/n had talked, and Y/n had showed Feyre exactly what Rhys had done to her.

Feyre... you can come with us.

You can live with us.

Look Feyre, you are Nyx's mother. You know what's best for him. If you need time, then take some time. Think about this if you want. But leave him Feyre. He does not deserve you or Nyx.

I can't force you to come with us but... I beg you Feyre. Think about this. And when you are ready, write to me. I will ask Eris to make arrangements for your safe travel to autumn court.

Feyre sniffed, wiping her tears with her palms as her path forward became clearer.

Write to me.

A pen and paper appeared next to the bed on the nightstand, and Feyre picked them both up, scribbling down a quick message and then winnowing it away, hoping her friend was awake and found it.

Though that would be a miracle, as it was quite literally the middle of the night, and not many people stayed up crying over their pathetic lives.

But there was nothing else Feyre could do except hope, because anything else had been stolen away by her mate. The one who was supposed to never harm her.

With one last look at the sleeping form beside her, Feyre stood, gathering all her discarded clothes and pulling them on, trying not to cringe in embarassment.

Then, she grabbed a bag, stuffed all her clothes and Nyx's inside of it, especially all the expensive gowns of hers. She could maybe sell them to make a little extra money.

Just before se left her and Rhysand's room, her gaze snagged on a bundle of money Rhys stored in his drawer, and a plan formed in Feyre's mind, and her lips lifted in a small smirk.

It seemed that the meeting with Fin would happen sooner rather than later.

And that a visit to the bank was necessary.

•○🌑○•

Taglist: @holb32@awoa1@cleverzonkwombatsludge@luvmoo@we-were-beautiful@eerievixen @zoe2 @fussel9913@j-pendragonx@thesnugglingduck @jesssicapaniagua @devilsnightz@esposadomd @littleffawn @mandowhatnow@bubybubsters@eos-princess@nightless@bigcreatorwombatdreamer @princesslolaasworld @asemkta @cat-or-kitten@txzii @bunnyredgirl @theofficialmadman@leeknows-wife@aria-chikage@amygdtjhddzvb @azriels-mate123 @inky-clover@kemillyfreitas @12358 @justdreamstars @cuethedepession @princessvesta @fides25 @nocasdatsgay@acourtofbatboydreams@stained-glass-eyes0708@glaciuswduo@wallacewillow0773638@cassie6392

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inklessletter · 10 months

Text

Steve should have known better.

He felt exhibited, exposed. Seen. He hasn't felt that way since he was nineteen. Now he was almost thirty, just in a few weeks, standing in the kitchen, preparing his toddler's meal, and everything should feel normal, definitely not like if the world took an upside down turn on him as soon as he recognized Eddie's voice coming from the TV in the living room. Alone there, forgotten. Like white noise.

They have not been in touch for more than teen years.

He almost didn't pay attention to it. Almost.

Eddie didn't sound like Eddie, that was not his scene, that was not his music, nor his usual angry lyrics. He definitely was not smooth, sad piano, not a raspy, sentimental voice.

It was strange and unfamiliar that man in the screen wielding his voice. That was not him.

Yet it took Steve three seconds to stop dead and go to the living room and stare, cooking forgotten.

Black and white, great illumination, sad expression, and Steve's life in Eddie's lips.

That Eddie, that unknown person sang what Steve told him that many years ago, hidden under a starry night, no Moon there to lit the unshed tears, or the blush in his cheeks. Eddie was singing his secrets.

Like a confession, Eddie sang about his fear of becoming unloved and forgotten, about how his father told him he would be nothing but lonely if he didn't get a wife and kids when Steve was barely eleven. Eddie sang, like it was his own experience, about him becoming his own authority, about how that lingering fear of meaning nothing, be nothing but a sad waste of space because he was definitely unlovable. Eddie sang about Steve's desire of having kids and make himself the greatest dad in the world so he could find that love when he was nothing but wrinkles and memories.

Eddie didn't sing about that love letter that he wrote to Steve, telling him that he was already loved and cherished, and that he would do anything in his hand to make Steve feel unbearably loved every day.

Eddie didn't sing about Steve shaking, reading over and over again that later, terrified of yet losing someone he loved so much because he was flying too close to the sun. Again.

Eddie didn't sing about Steve rejecting him the day before he set off Hawkins to become a famous musician. He didn't sing about Steve's trembling smile, about broken hearts that day. He didn't sing about their mouths becoming that day a graveyard of kisses. He didn't sing about the tight hug, Steve's plea in his hear "please, forget about me and be huge" and Eddie's choking reply "that's not an option, because I will always love you."

He didn't sing about those ten years of silence between them.

Instead, Eddie sang about his wish of becoming loved by the children he hadn't had yet, wondering if they will still love him when he was old or if they would let him behind. Eddie sang about a letter that changed a man and made him happy once.

What Eddie didn't put it in the lyrics, but all Steve could hear, standing there, sobbing, barely able to breath, aching and broken, was that Eddie kept his promise.

He still loved him.

#inklessletter #inky writes #steddie #fic #fanfic #ficlet #steve harrington #eddie munson #hurt #sad #i am so sorry for this #so so sorry #internalized homophobia

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sp0o0kylights · 8 months

Text

Part Six / Part Seven (YOU ARE HERE) / Part Eight

A03

If the odd, small sounding Steve had been a weird pill to swallow, then the loudly swearing, furious one might as well have been a different person.

Worse?

He wanted Gareth and Eddie to stay behind.

“You are not going to the lab by yourself.” Eddie deadpanned, blocking the door while Steve acted like an agitated snake in front of it.

“You don’t understand.” Steve hissed, weaving back and forth on his feet, like he was trying to find a way out without bowling Eddie over.

Or breaking a window.

“Then help us understand!” Eddie shot back, throwing his hands up.

Which was just the crux of the issue--because Steve seemed fine to talk about the lab being a horrible place, but kept refusing to answer why.

“You don’t have to tell us the full thing man, but give us something.” Gareth pleaded, hoping it didn’t come off as desperate as he felt.

Not his fault Steve was setting off his own anxiety.

The jock stepped back, running a hand through his hair and making a mess of it.

"I don't have the time." He stressed, anger, worry and pure fear mixing together in his tone.

In a mutter he added; "You wouldn't believe me anyways."

Tentatively, Gareth reached out, putting a hand on Steve’s shoulder.

For the first time since they’d known each other, Steve didn’t react to being touched.

"Eddie and I are gonna go no matter what. So you can either give us a heads up now, or you can be mad at us later when we just follow you anyway.” Gareth said, a hell of a lot calmer than he felt.

Steve had turned partly to glare at him, but seemed to at least let the words sink in. To get through that no, really, they were going, and all this arguing was just wasting time.

Not that Gareth trusted it.

"I don't want you guys getting hurt." Steve burst out, and it looked like it cost him to admit even that much.

Like it was inevitable and all this was a Hail Mary attempt to keep them from that future.

Eddie seemed to pick up on it too, because he caught Steve's gaze and held it. "You're a part of Hellfire now. If you were in that lab, we'd be all coming for you. Not one of us--all of us.”

He followed it up by invading Steve’s space, jamming a finger into the jock's chest.

“I don’t know why you think we’d be okay with you getting hurt." Eddie stared hard at him, voice as serious as Gareth had ever heard it. “You’re our friend, too Steve. We’re not abandoning Tiff and the rest of the Scooby Doo gang, and we're also not letting you do something that has you this freaked out, alone.”

Which is what this all seemed to keep coming down to. How Steve was willing to throw himself at problems, how he kept wanting to handle his own issues, while trying to manage everyone else so that he was the only target.

The only person in the know, the only one in the line of fire.

Like he was a burden instead of a person.

Gareth kept wondering how the hell that had happened. If this had been anyone else he would have written it off as some macho bullshit, but Steve wasn't like that. He'd didn't need to be the one white knight.

The fear he spoke with had always been too real, for that.

It wasn't like they--or at least, Eddie and himself, hadn't picked up that something was happening, either. Something big.

Given the weird, hushed conversations Steve kept have with Nancy, and Jonathan and even the kids sometimes…

Once, just once, Gareth had seen Steve talk to the Chief of Police. The asshole had looked awkward as hell, giving Steve a few pats to his shoulder, and Steve looking equally as awkward, leaning into it--but they looked like two people who'd gone through the same shit and now were stuck together. Not a police officer giving a warning to a teenager. Not even a family friend catching up.

Something was up in Hawkins and now wasn't the time to dog Steve about it, but Gareth still wished he'd give them a hint.

A tidbit, a morsel, of what the fuck had him so riled up.

“And if all this means our friends are in danger, then we're absolutely going too.” Eddie continued, nearly nose to nose with Steve.

Steve put his hands on his hips, frustration written all over his face--but he didn’t step away. "I don't think you'd be okay with it, it's just-- I'm just--already involved! This is how it’s been."

As if that wasn’t fucking alarming.

"And now, so are we.” Eddie threw back, pointing at the phone. "It’d help if you at least told us what to watch out for, but if not then we need to stop arguing so we can go help.”

That definitely got through.

Steve tapped a foot, blowing out a breath and overall acted as if Gareth and Eddie were the ones being unreasonable here.

(Or a pissed off single mother of six, not that Gareth was voicing that image.)

"Fine." He snapped finally, pinching the bridge of his nose and backing away from Eddie. “Fine! But you listen to me when we get out there, and if I tell you two to run, I need you to trust me and run.”

A grin tried to blast across Eddie’s face, the smug one he wore when he won and he knew it, but he covered it up before Steve saw.

Gareth doubted it’d take much to slide Steve right back into trying to keep them at the trailer, or straight up pull some dirty ass move to force it.

(He belatedly wondered if he should worry about Steve trying to stab one of Eddie’s tires out, but didn’t think the older teen would go that far.

Not yet, anyway.)

"I wasn't kidding when I said you wouldn't believe me." Steve spoke over his shoulder, blowing through the door the second Eddie got out of the way, marching down the steps to his Beemer. "But let’s just say that lab did a lot worse than create shit like rabid dogs, and a few of their creations might still be there. Grab a weapon!"

“I thought there wasn’t any rabid dogs!” Gareth protested at the same time Eddie said;

"So the cops can get us on felony charges? What is trespassing not enough for you?"

Eddie shook his head, following Steve down to the gravel. "No thanks, man!"

“I never said their weren't rabid dogs at all, I said--wait, who told you that?” Steve asked, trying to turn and face Gareth but Eddie simply pushed him forward, kept him moving.

“They’ve waited for us long enough.” He whispered lowly, as Gareth scrambled about for something to use.

Managed to fetch the fire poker he knew Wayne kept around to scare away coyotes, or rival drug dealers, or anything else wandering about.

If Steve said bring a weapon, he'd bring a damn weapon.

Felony charges or not.

"The cops won't charge us. Not as long as Hopper’s the one who gets there first.” Steve said and the desperation in his voice had faded a little, revealing something hard and self-assured underneath.

Not cocky, but with the strength Hellfire had when approaching a boss or baddie they had conquered once before and were familiar with.

"And if El's involved? He will get there first." Steve said firmly, whipping the backdoor of his car open and yanking a bag out.

A bag that had muffled squawking coming out of it.

Steve snatched a walkie talkie out from it, interrupting a stream of high pitched, upset nonsense coming out the tinny speakers.

Gareth caught someone half asking, half yelling if "-literally anyone could pick up!" before Steve hit the talk button.

"What's happening!?" He demanded, as he slammed the car door and stormed to the trunk.

"Steve!" Several voices yelled at once, the speakers shrieking in static feedback.

One beat out the others, as its owner screeched into the walkie in a tone that only children under fourteen and small dogs seemed to be capable of. "Where the hell have you been!? We called a code red an hour ago!"

"Bitch later Henderson, explain now." Steve commanded, picking out a bat with fucking house nails hammered into it.

Several of which were stained a rusted, blood-red.

Eddie stopped dead in his tracks, eyeing Steve with his mouth ajar as the nails gleamed lazily in his porchlights.

Gareth couldn't blame him; his own heart had just picked up speed.

Steve gave the bat two experimental twirls, flipping it easily in his hand, before he seemed satisfied. Both the weapon and the movement worked together, elevating Steve into something straight out of the fantasy novels Hellfire traded around.

Like a fucking paladin come to life.

Gareth felt his breath hitch at the way it highlighted the guy's biceps, already on display since Steve had shoved his sleeves up. The movement was so smooth and well practiced that it was clear this was his weapon of choice--and that he’d definitely used it before.

Gareth wasn't even attracted to Steve Harrington, but one couldn't be blamed for having eyes.

"Mike insisted he saw lights on at the lab, and Will thought he might have felt something--" Henderson started, before being abruptly interrupted by someone on his end.

"He did feel something, Dustin!"

"Shut up, I'm talking to Steve!”

"Stop arguing and give me the short version. You're all in the lab?" Steve cut in.

‘It should be illegal to sound that annoyed while moving like that.’ Gareth thought idly, as Steve dropped the bat to the ground, then propped it up against his car.

He waved Eddie and Gareth over, one hand going to cover the walkie talkie’s speakers as it spat static. ‘Pick one.’ He mouthed, in the exact same way Gareth’s mom did when she was trying to talk to him and someone on the phone at the same time.

With a short glance at each other, they went.

"--we got to the lab and El and Max were already here--" Dustin tried again, and once again was talked over, making the conversation extremely hard to follow.

Kids, God.

"-You told us to meet you here-"

"-and there were these older kids running around-'

"-excuse you, tiny bratling, we are not kids-"

"Was that Grant?" Gareth found himself asking, as Steve waved a hand above his open trunk distractedly, like a vendor showing off wares.

Except instead of trinkets, it held a gun, a knife and a fucking candlestick.

The latter of which sported another suspicious red stain.

There was a second explosion of noise, and what sounded like multiple walkie's being fought over before a young, female voice came on, its owner having apparently won the tug of war.

"The idiots thought they saw something but it turned out to just be some teenagers breaking into the lab for fun." She scoffed, and sounded suspiciously like a Tiff Jr.

It took a second, but Gareth finally placed the voice to the redheaded girl--the one who rolled her eyes a lot.

"The wall and part of the floor collapsed, some guy fell through a hole into a locked room and El thinks the collapse wasn't an accident." The words were spoken rapid fire, like a front line soldier relaying information. "She and Will both feel something."

Eddie picked up the knife while Gareth simply held up his fire poker.

Steve nodded to them, and closed the trunk.

"Can you all get out of there safely?" He asked.

"El thinks if we leave, the--thing here will attack the guy that's stuck."

'Thing' Gareth mouthed to himself.

Not a person.

Not a dog, or bear, or--anything else.

A thing.

"Fuck." Steve spat, taking his hand off the talk button so no one on the other side heard.

"She and Will aren't sure what it is yet but they're thinking it's from the Upside Down."

After a brief pause wherein someone could be heard shouting in the distance, she sarcastically added; "Honestly I'm happy to leave the guy that's stuck here, he's really annoying--"

"No sacrificing Stewart!" Steve snapped instantly, and despite all the swearing and dramatics, having contact with the kids seemed to ease something in him.

His movements were no longer frantic, back and shoulders looser.

Even the way he talked seemed to unclench, like he'd been told the worst had come and now that it was finally here, he could deal with it.

"If you're sure, because I'm pretty sure Billy is gonna start looking for me soon." Max argued.

Steve groaned. "I'll handle him if he shows up."

For the first time since Steve had picked up the walkie, silence descended.

Gareth wasn't exactly an expert in such things, but it felt judgmental.

"Are you gonna handle it like the last time you handled it? Cause we don't have anything to knock him out with and I don't know if your head can--"

"Thank you Max, but I can deal with him." Steve cut in immediately, face flaming and yeah, they were definitely out of whatever protective crazy mode Steve had started off in. "This time I have my bat and backup. So unless your brother has taken to carrying stacks of plates around, I think I'll be fine!"

"Step brother." Max corrected immediately, huffing.

Then in a slightly quieter voice, she added: "Hey Steve? Get here fast."

"I'm coming. Steve over and out." He said firmly, like an older brother reassuring a younger sibling.

How the hell the guy had ever managed to appear like a heartless asshole was beyond Gareth.

Apparently it was beyond Eddie too because the guy was practically drooling with heart eyes in Steve's direction.

The kids signed off, before quiet, blessedly descended.

"Can I ask one question?" Gareth asked, as Steve cursed at the finally silent walkie talkie.

Steve stopped, entire chest heaving in a sigh.

"Yeah, one." He said, as though even that cost him a lot.

Out of the corner of his eye Gareth watched Eddie shake himself to awareness, and then try to flip the knife with the same move Steve used on the bat's handle.

He fumbled it immediately, chasing the blade as it clattered to the ground.

"Why a candlestick?" Gareth asked quickly, before Steve turned and witnessed Eddie's awkward, scrambling retrieval.

"Jonathan tends to grab the weirdest shit as a weapon." Steve responded. "He's used a trophy, multiple chairs, a lamp," he made an etc. all gesture, as if any of that actually explained things instead of causing about ten more questions.

"The candlestick actually worked pretty well so I kept it." He finished.

"Jonathan Byers?" Eddie said, holding the knife once more and clearly pretending he'd never tried to copy Steve. "How very Cluedo of him."

Steve frowned, nose scrunching in confusion. "Cluedo?"

"He means the game Clue. It's called Cluedo in Europe, Eddie's just a tabletop snob." Gareth rambled anxiously, because throwing Jonathan Byers wielding a candlestick into the mix was just the icing on top of the weird cake.

Part of him wondered if it would be rude if he asked Steve to spin the bat again, while the other part vaguely wondered if any of this was actually happening.

Maybe Eddie had accidentally laced the pot with a hallucinogenic.

(Frankly he wasn't sure how he'd have missed the addition of extra drugs, but hey; you couldn't say that made any more sense than Steve Harrington, small town golden boy, parading around with a fucking bat with nails in it, using a walkie talkie to speak to children about how a thing might try to attack one of their friends.)

The kid’s involvement at least, made a little bit of sense.

They were young but they weren't that young--and they also weren't as quiet as they thought they were.

Particularly not when they were riled up at the arcade.

Gareth knew the lot of them thought one of the girls had superpowers. He also knew they often pretended Will Byers, the kid who'd gone missing, had spent some time acting as a "spy" for whatever evil they all pretended to be battling.

He'd mostly assumed it was a D&D-slash- LARP kind of thing, or even just traumatized kids playing pretend to cope with what had happened, but now?

"I might have lied about just having one question." Gareth admitted as Steve picked up his bat.

"I'll explain some of it later, after we get them out." Steve said, as if Gareth might actually trust him to do so after doing his damndest to dodge giving an explanation.

"Lead on, Sir Harrington." Eddie said before Gareth could say just that, like the lovestruck idiot he was. "We're going to need both cars to carry our wayward friends home, so Gareth and I will follow your lead."

Eddie spun his keys around his fingers, and given the smirk on his face, Gareth would bet money he was hoping it looked as cool as Steve's bat handling.

It didn't.

"Provided you promise to try not to lose us, because I've lived here all my life, I know where the lab is." He finished, and somehow managed to make the words sound fun and not the blatant warning it was.

Steve nodded once, hard. "Alright. Stay close to my car, and flash your high beams twice if you run into any problems--or see like, people in suites."

"People in suites?" Eddie asked, the knife still clutched awkwardly in his hand.

"Government agent kinda dudes, they're easy to spot." Steve said, like he was cautioning them to look out for deer darting across the road. "They usually look like they shouldn't be wherever they are."

"Alright." Gareth said, before his brain could come up with a list of questions regarding that.

Steve slung himself into the front seat of his car, Gareth claiming shotgun in Eddie's van shortly thereafter.

They waited to let Steve out first, and then stayed right on his tail as Steve promptly broke multiple laws to get to the lab.

"So this is all ominous as hell, right?" Eddie said, metal music pouring from the vans speakers and eyes on the taillights of the beamer.

"Oh dude, incredibly ominous. There was blood on that candlestick. " Gareth said, still in disbelief.

Whose candlestick had that even belonged to, originally? At what point in all this had Steve decided to hammer nails into a baseball bat?

Nevermind the weapon he was trying not to think about in the trunk of Steve’s car.

The gun.

Gareth knew instinctively why neither of them had gone for it. Eddie's father had drilled into him that the extra charge for carrying was never worth it and Gareth's own father had a firm "if you point it then you might as well have used it" mentality.

Steve didn't look like the kind of person to handle killing someone well himself, and yet the gun remained, locked up in the back of his trunk.

An option he'd offered to both Eddie and Gareth without bothering to fully fill them in.

"Blood on the bat too." Eddie said, dragging Gareth's attention back to the present.

Which at least, gave Gareth an opening for familiar ground. "I'm surprised you noticed that, given you looked like you lost all the blood in your head when he started swinging it around."

"Shut up." Eddie grumped, and though normally Gareth would tease him more, he found he just...couldn't.

Not right now.

"I'm more worried that they all kept calling whatever the thing was…well. A thing." He said, because God was it bothering him. “I mean I guess it could be an animal still but the way they were talking about it…” He trailed off, uncomfortable.

"Personally I'm hoping for monsters." Eddie said.

Gareth turned to shoot him a look. "Seriously Ed’s?"

"Mmm. Because if it's not monsters Gareth, it's humans," Eddie tapped the steering wheel in time with Metallica's For Whom the Bell Tolls. "and humans scare me more than anything."

Gareth leaned back, letting the seat absorb him, his own eyes sticking to the back of Steve's head. "I guess."

Not that he wanted to deal with either.

Best case scenario in all this?

Everyone got out safely, and they drilled Steve into what the hell had happened to him, later.

Not that life was ever that simple.

xXx

Tiff met them outside the lab.

The place was desolate. Abandoned with the kind of tell-tale signs that boldly stated something awful had happened there.

Papers and a chair were still left in the guard shack and a phone dangling off the hook completing the look. The lab itself was dotted with broken windows, the corresponding shattered glass glittering all over the ground.

All it was missing was some lightning and it would be a great location for a slasher film.

One set of odd, claw-like marks on the ground later, right near where they all parked, and Gareth abruptly decided he'd rather focus on Tiffany rather than follow that thought more.

Her arms were crossed tightly over her chest, her expression annoyed, but the dead giveaway to her freaked out status was the way she couldn't seem to stop moving. Not even after they’d gotten out of their respective cars and started towards her.

Gareth hadn't seen her this bad since the day she temporarily lost her SAT guide.

It didn't bode well for the adventure ahead.

"Finally." She complained as the trio approached. "Did you three stop for milkshakes on the way!?"

"Traffic Tiff, you know how it is." Eddie said with an easy smile and a wave of his hand.

She simply gave a pointed look at her watch before glaring back at them.

"Steve!" Someone yelled, and Dustin promptly launched out of some corner at the older teen, babbling a mile a minute.

“Slow down, God!” Steve interrupted, doing a clear head to toe sweep of the kid. “You okay? Everyone good? Nobody dead?”

“Not yet!” Dustin said chipperly, which caused Steve to swat at his hat.

“Are you okay?” Gareth asked Tiff, as Steve and Dustin began talking rapid-fire, in the kind of way that spoke of past events and made little to no sense to anyone not in the loop.

"Yeah." Tiff nodded stiffly. “Would have been a lot happier if Stewart had listened to me for once, but.” She shrugged, her version of ‘it is what it is.’

Eddie reached out, squeezing her shoulder gently. “Is everyone else in the lab?” He asked, peering about.

He got another nod. “The room the idiot’s stuck in is just up the stairs and down the hall a bit. I’m amazed he didn’t get hurt, he fell through the ceiling.” She shook her head, clearly worried and trying her best not to show it. “Everyone’s kind of been wandering between there and here, but the random children who showed up are insisting we all walk around in groups.”

She turned to eye Dustin, before looking towards the entryway to the lab.

“Probably a good thing given the wall collapsed, but they all think there’s some,” She huffed, arms shrugging helplessly. “monster lurking about.”

Gareth stared at the lab entrance for a moment, once again taking in random stains and smears that were all around them. Spotted a few more of those weird, elongated claw marks raking down the stairs, spread more like fingers than anything else, and the group of them that surrounded a suspiciously large stain in the entryway.

“What made you guys want to explore the lab tonight anyway? It’s Thursday.” Eddie asked.

This earned him a more animated eye roll.

“Would you believe me if I told you I owed Jeff a favor, and he owed Grant a favor, and Grant got into it with Stewart over whether or not the lab had glowing goo hiding inside?"

“Glowing goo?” Eddie and Gareth echoed as one.

“Like what Mikey the bartender was saying last time he was drunk? The whole thing with that weird green goo that fell out of some truck?” Gareth asked, and it wasn’t the stupidest thing that had riled up Stewart and Grant but by God was it up there.

Tiff sighed a second time, sounding pained. “Yeah. That goo. Stewart kept insisting Mikey got a “hot tip” that some military guys knew it was here,” Her fingers came up to make the quotation marks, somehow managing to make the movement sarcastic. “and wanted it moved over to that new mall they’re building. Starcourt.”

“So Stewart had to come see it.” Eddie finished, as if he wouldn’t have also been dying to go get a look.

Frankly, Gareth himself was slightly annoyed he and Eddie hadn’t been called upon as it were.

“Mikey also apparently believes something else wants the goo and chased the military guys who were here out of the building. That part must be going around, because the kids here are pretty insistent there’s a monster inside.” Tiffany added, waving a hand towards Dustin.

Eddie made a move to slung his arm over her shoulder, giving her a full body squeeze before letting her go.

Tiff allowed it, and for the briefest of seconds, even seemed to lean in.

“Hello Steve, nice murder weapon.” She greeted loudly, entirely unphased by the nail bat in his hands as Hellfire’s jock and his favorite small annoyance stepped up to them. “Having met your children, I have to say, your parenting skills are utter shit.”

Dustin frowned up at her, instantly offended. “Steve’s our friend.” He corrected, angrily emphasizing ‘friend,’ right over the top of Steve’s loud protest of;

“It’s not a murder weapon, jeez!”

“If anyone is lacking in skills it’s your little group’s!” Dustin cut in, waving a hand around. “Not one of you was prepared for breaking into the lab! No weapons, no back up, you’re the only one who even had quarters and one of you isn’t even wearing a jacket. If we hadn’t shown up you guys would have been in some real shit!”

Tiff stared flatly down at Dustin, ignoring Steve entirely. “Sure, pipsqueak."

“What are you guys even doing here?” Steve asked, before Dustin could fuss more.

“Glowing goo, apparently.” Eddie answered, moving with him.

Tiffany took the hint, starting to walk towards the stairs as Dustin trotted forward next to her, clearly intending to “lead” just as much as she was.

Gareth watched from the corner of his eyes as Steve automatically stepped to Dustin’s right, making sure the kid was surrounded on all sides.

‘Fuckin’ softie.’ He thought fondly, even as he gripped the fire poker he held in his hand tighter.

Eddie had managed to stow the knife away, making it vanish somewhere among his jacket and Judas Priest shirt, so it was just him and Steve looking like lunatics.

Thankfully, Tiff had spared Gareth her opinion on the fire poker.

“Goo?” Steve asked, and unlike the rest of them, he sounded downright alarmed.

“So there’s this bartender at the Hideout.” Eddie started, launching into the story with a lot more pizzazz than Gareth thought it really required. He and Tiff traded glances, and Gareth got to see the exact moment Dustin’s eyes caught sight of Eddie and went dinner plate wide.

Gareth would have nudged Tiff, maybe made a joke about how Eddie was gaining a new sheep just by his terminal need to be the loudest person in a room, but a movement on the left caught his gaze.

Gareth stopped, as something unmistakably fleshy slunk back in the shadows, one weirdly shaped paw flashing as something caught the light.

Fear raked through him, freezing Gareth dead to the spot, hands tightening on his fire poker.

“Hey, guys? He asked, interrupting whatever story Eddie had inevitably gone off of (likely one of the many, many backstories involving Mikey the bartender’s belief in UFOs) “That monster the kids think they saw. What uh, what’s it supposed to look like?”

“Why?” Tiff asked, at the same time Eddie yelled at him to; “Keep up, Gary, god!”

Gareth didn’t answer, instead staring deep into the shadows.

Nothing moved.

‘You’re seeing things.’ He told himself finally. ‘Unless it went through solid fucking wall, you would still be able to see it. You're just stressing yourself out because Steve’s being weird.’

Fuck knows it wouldn’t be the first time he thought he saw something when his anxiety started acting up.

"So Gare, did you bring the fire poker along because of the monster?" Tiff asked, amused, as she briefly dropped back towards him.

Clearly, she'd just been waiting for an opening to tease him about it.

He flushed scarlet.

"No!" He spat, hugging the thing closer.

A grin unfurled on Tiff's face, Cheshire-esque.

"I'm serious, Steve told us to bring it!" Gareth insisted, trying to look manly with it.

He knew he failed as badly as Eddie had earlier.

"You know, I'm starting to think Eddie's not the only one gone on our human fighter…" Tiff trailed off, raising one eyebrow, and causing Gareth to flip her off.

Thankfully that train of conversation was interrupted by loud arguing.

“We’re not cats Steve, you can’t just put us outside!” One of the kids was bitching, the group having caught sight of Steve and hustling over.

Jeff was seated on the floor in the hallway, one hand holding up his chin while Grant leaned against the wall next to him, both looking incredibly bored.

Across from them was a door that had looked like it had survived a full-blown seige. Cracks ran throughout the wood, and with the entire center of it bowed inward it was clear why no one could manage to get Stewart out of the room.

It was completely wedged in the frame, with thick enough edges to make it impossible to just pop it out by hand.

The hoard of gremlins were harder to make out now that they were all clumped together, but Gareth quickly made out their very….unique outfits.

Only the girls had dressed normally, while the boys looking like they either were planning on robbing a train.

Bandana’s over their faces and all.

“Yes, I can actually.” Steve retorted in the exact same bitchy tone. "Tiffany can stay with you guys by the cars while the rest of us figure out how to get Stewart.”

"Thanks for volunteering me." Tiff said flatly, but alas, was ignored by the group at large.

“Really? So you don’t want El to, you know. Help.” The terminally loud one spat.

“El’s gonna dump your ass if you don’t stop talking for her, Mike.” Steve warned, making the girl puff up proudly while Mike immediately cut a fearful glance to his girlfriend.

“And if El could have helped before, why wait for me to get here?” Steve continued, one hand on his hip, the other resting the nail bat over his shoulder, cutting in before Mike's scrambled apology derailed the conversation.

“I cannot move the door.” El admitted in that sort of flat, blunt way she spoke. “There is something here that is making my powers unstable.”

Steve pointed to her, face morphing into a clear “see?” gesture.

“Now unless Dustin is going to science the door open somehow--and I’m not saying you couldn’t,” Steve spoke the second part quickly, as Dustin’s mouth popped open, “then all of you are going to wait outside. Where the demo-the thing, isn’t.”

Gareth really, really hated how he kept referring to it as a thing.

One of the kids rolled their eyes and muttered; “We literally said we don’t know if it’s a--” and promptly got elbowed in the stomach for it.

Right.

Not suspicious at all.

“But we can help!” Dustin protested furiously.

Gareth wasn't sure if it was because Dustin truly thought he could help, or if it was because he wasn't used to the pushback.

For all that he was an only child, Steve had clearly inherited an older brother's prerogative of letting kids do stupid shit so long as he supervised (and typically, laughed at the outcome.

Gareth still fondly recalled the time Mike declared himself man enough to smoke.

Steve had conned him into chainsmoking outside the arcade until the kid finally threw up in the bushes on his fourth cigarette and declared Steve's smoking habit disgusting.)

“El could help.” Steve countered calmly. “Max probably, if I gave her my bat, but the rest of you are just moving targets. So make like a drum, and beat it.”

"That was lame, Steve." Dustin sniffed, while the other kids groaned loudly. “A real low effort pun.”

Steve just flicked his hand out in a shoo motion before leaning his bat up against the wall.

Jeff stared it before making immediate eye contact with Gareth, every inch of him screaming ‘what the hell!’

With a sigh, and an unfortunate side glance at Tiff, Gareth explained; “It’s for the monster.”

That at least, was easier than explaining Steve knew what was here and was doing his damndest not to tell them what it was.

Even if it made Tiff grin manically in his direction.

His only relief was that Steve got her attention right after, calling "Heads up!" before tossing her his car keys.

Because her hand eye coordination was superior to Eddie’s, she caught them easily.

If there's an emergency, get them out." Steve warned, voice just over the edge of too serious, losing the banter he’d kept up since they’d arrived.

"If there's an emergency we're coming back on to save your ass." Dustin snapped back, arms crossed, because of course he was listening.

“No.” Steve told him simply.

“Yes.”

“No, no, no-!”

Tiff let out a sharp whistle, the sound piercing in the echoing hallway.

"Gremlins with me!" She commanded, before catching Steve's eyes over their heads . "You fucking owe me, Harrington."

He nodded, before dropping a glare to the kids. "Just don't let them drive my car."

“God I can’t believe he’s still upset about that, it’s not like we fucked up the Camaro.” Mike complained loudly, allowing himself to be herded back outdoors.

“Max did hit a mailbox.” Lucas retorted, and then yelped a loud; “Ow, Max!” as he was presumably punished for voicing the fact out loud.

Their voices faded slightly as they went down the stairs, and Gareth managed to drag his attention back to the problem at hand.

One very fucked up door.

"Do you think we could kick it down?” Steve asked, as Eddie bent down to examine the door.

Refusing to look anyone in the face, Jeff said; “We may have tried that already.”

“My darling lambs, you’re approaching this wrong.” Eddie cooed, and got several glares for it.

“The door might be fucked by the hinges here, are not. Looks like all I need is the right screwdriver and lucky for Stewart!--” He yelled his friend's name, banging on the door and no doubt hoping to spook him.

A muffled shout of “Screw you Munson!” was all he got for his efforts.

“--I have my toolbox in my car.”

“Do I want to know what you have a toolbox for, Ed's?” Steve asked.

“Perfectly legal avenues only, I assure you.” Eddie replied, batting his eyelashes up at Steve innocently.

Grant and Jeff both gagged.

“Would the two of you gentlemen be so kind as to fetch me my box?” Eddie said, pulling out his keys and offering them up to Jeff. “I want to try one more thing. I don’t think it’ll work, but I can test it while you boys are gone.”

“He’s going to try to kick it in himself.” Gareth tattled flatly.

“I am not!” Eddie immediately denied, eyes wide in feigned hurt.

It was fake as shit.

“Let him!” Jeff said over as he got up. “That way I won’t be the only one getting made fun of for doing it!”

A car suddenly honked from outside, startling them all.

“Check that the shitheads aren’t murdering Tiff while you’re out there!” Steve called as Jeff and Grant took off towards the entrance, before moving out of Eddie’s way as he surged upwards.

“It’s more likely she’d be murdering them.” Eddie replied, and sure enough he was backing up like he was going to try and kick the door.

“Do you see how thick that thing is? The indent, here?” Steve sassed, pointing towards the giant dent slightly off center, where the door bowed inwards. “I’m pretty sure Jeff wasn’t the one who did that. These things are built to hold, man.”

“Ah but you’ve seen Jeffery's legs. Our beloved new cleric should stick to punching things, he’s not made for kicking.” Eddie said, tongue peaking out of his mouth as he sized up the door.

An odd, low chittering caught Gareth’s attention, the noise like nails on a chalkboard as the older teens continued to argue.

“Have you seen yourself?” Steve asked point blank, hip cocked and bitch mode on. “You aren’t either.”

“Don’t be mean, Steven, just because I don’t have jock muscles--”

The chittering got louder, and Gareth found himself taking a few steps away from his friends, in the opposite direction of the stairs as he tried to figure out where the fuck it was coming from.

A light at the farthest end of the long hallway gave out, barely noticeable. unless one was looking for it. Gareth hadn't even internalized the hallway had lighting, he'd been too busying with everything else--but it did.

Likely the place had a backup generator, but that didn't explain why the lights in this hallway were on--and now, suddenly, giving out.

'Maybe the kids did it...?' He thought, still trying to figure out why the chittering sounded like it was getting closer.

“You’re going to break your leg.”

“Has anyone ever told you that you need to believe in people more Stevie? Have some faith?”

“I have faith that you’re face is about to hit the floor, does that count?”

Another light failed, giving the appearance of the hallway warping. Not all of it, just one weird wall, that seemed to stretch like something was trying to break out.

"Okay but if I kick the door and it busts in, you owe me ten bucks."

"If you kick the door down not only will I give you ten bucks, Eddie, I'll go see that stupid new movie you won't shut up about with you."

"Oh we'll be seeing Fright Night with or without my door busting talents--"

Another light, out, and now Gareth could see a shape taking form. Later he'd swear it had actually, crawled out from the wall.

(Later, he'd find out the Upside Down creatures had a habit of doing that.)

He thought it was a tiger at first.

It has the same overall shape--long body with muscular shoulders, head low as it prowled forward.

Except the tail curled up over its back, hanging like a scorpion’s and its face…

It took a second for Gareth to make sense of what he was seeing.

The huge, oddly shaped bulb, like a flower’s before it unfurled.

Thick liquid drooled out from red tinged edges, dripping onto the floor. It was too far away to hear, but Gareth imagined the little plinks of noise it made anyway.

"Guys." He said, voice pitched impossibly high.

The Not-Tiger stepped further into the light, revealing it to be hairless.

Its skin was flecked red and grotesquely gray, with odd, thick folds of flesh hanging off its sides. Those pieces moved in weird little jerks and flutters, almost like another appendage entirely.

Another step forward, the weird, folded pieces of skin moving out and out and out on either side of it, hitching up in a U shape and oh, God.

They were wings.

'Lion body, scorpion tail, dragon wings.' A far off part of Gareth identified. 'It's missing the human face, but otherwise that's pretty dead on for a--"

"Manticore!" Gareth screamed, right as the things head split open into five petals filled with rows of fangs.

It screamed right back, then lunged at him, claws and teeth and tail all extending to attack.

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roosterforme · 1 year

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Do You Wish It Was Me? | Rooster x Reader

Summary: When Bradley returns from deployment and finds you engaged to Harvard, he knows he needs to get you back.

Warnings: Angst and fluff

Length: 2400 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female Reader

Check my masterlist for more Top Gun fun!

Bradley had been thinking about you every day for six months. It had been a long deployment, even for him, and that's why he decided to hold off taking things to the next level with you. At least until he was home again.

But now that he was back in San Diego and had some time to spend with you, he wanted to make you more than a friend with benefits. A lot more.

He had tried texting you all day, and now as he was easing his Bronco into the parking lot at the Hard Deck, he was hoping you would be inside.

Bradley met you last summer. You had been working as a server at the restaurant next to the bar while you finished your graduate degree. You were bubbly, gorgeous, sexy and smart. It didn't take long until Bradley had ended up in bed with you. He spent night after night with your body connected to his, your hands wrapped in his hair while he made love to you.

He wanted to get back to that place, and more.

"Rooster!" Nat screamed when he strolled in. "You didn't tell me you were home!" He let his friend jump into his arms and hug him tight.

"Just got home today," he told her, as he drew the attention of the other aviators and everyone hanging out at the pool table. But he was distracted now, because you were there, next to the bar, nursing a beer. Your eyes were already on Bradley's when he found you in the crowd. But Harvard was standing next to you with his arm around you.

Bradley's blood ran cold as Lieutenant Brigham Lennox leaned toward you and kissed your cheek. Your gaze never wavered, rather it remained on Bradley, even as Harvard pushed your hair away from your neck.

"What the fuck?" Bradley muttered. He could hear his friends calling for him at the pool table, and Nat tried to lead him in that direction. "No, I just need a minute."

Nat let go of him and he made his way around the bar. Your eyes grew wider as he got closer to you, and when Harvard saw Bradley approaching, he reached out a hand and slapped Bradley on the back.

"Rooster! Welcome back, man." Bradley shook his hand, barely registering that Brigham was even touching him. He never could stand Harvard; he always drank until he was wasted, and tried to hook up with girls who Bradley would have thought were too drunk to know what they wanted.

"Harvard," Bradley grunted, still looking at you.

But Harvard must have noticed where Bradley was looking, because he smiled brightly and said. "I can't thank you enough for introducing her to me. Show him your ring, Sweetcheeks!"

Bradley felt like the rest of the bar and all of the patrons were slowly fading into nothingness. All that remained was him and you. And the diamond engagement ring on your finger.

"Hi, Bradley," you said timidly as his eyes darted between your finger and your eyes. You hadn't waited for him. Not only that, but you were engaged. To a complete asshole.

Bradley felt sick and confused and angry and horribly sad as you smiled softly at him. "Did he just call you Sweetcheeks?" was all Bradley managed to ask, and you took a step closer to him when Harvard wandered away to talk to someone else. "Honey?"

Your mouth dropped open. "Bradley. Should we go talk outside?"

He just nodded and followed you as you made your way through the crowd. He had been hoping to see you tonight, but not like this. He wanted you in his arms, against his skin, your voice lulling him to sleep.

"What happened?" Bradley asked once you and he were the only ones outside on the deck. "Harvard?" He was panicking.

You nodded your head a few times. "We've been dating. Only engaged for a week."

"Honey. I've been thinking about you every single day for six months." There was no way this was right. You should be holding him by now, listening to Bradley tell you all about the dates he was going to take you on.

He watched the expressions on your face rapidly change from confusion to anger to sadness.

"You've been thinking about me? You never said anything before you left, Bradley."

And you were right. He really hadn't. But Bradley thought you felt the same way about him. Or at least that your feelings were strong enough that you wouldn't be engaged to Harvard after six months.

"I'm really, really regretting that now, Honey." He ran his hands over his face and groaned.

"I think you need to stop calling me Honey," you whispered sadly, and Bradley watched you chew on your lip.

Bradley swallowed hard and nodded. He barely heard you say, "I'm sorry," as you went back inside. He followed you a little helplessly. He watched Harvard get so drunk that he was embarrassing himself. He watched you as your eyes often found his, and Bradley knew he needed you back.

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

You had been keeping your distance, and Bradley hated it. He was thinking about how you had been his, even if just for a short time. You had shared your dreams with him late at night. He knew about your family and your likes and dislikes.

When Bradley ran into you on base when you came to drop off Harvard's lunch, you couldn't hide the look of longing from him.

"Honey," Bradley said quietly. "You don't have to be with him."

You shook your head slightly and said, "It's too late."

When your gaze dropped down to look at your ring, Bradley kept his eyes on yours. "He's not good enough for you."

Harvard was like a self-fulfilling prophecy, appearing with his arm draped across the shoulders of a new recruit called Glory, his mouth close to her ear. But he dropped her like a sack of potatoes when he saw you standing next to Bradley.

"Sweetcheeks! You bring me my lunch?" he asked, giving you a sloppy kiss and digging into the bag you handed to him. "Thanks. I'll see you later."

He just winked at Bradley and then followed Glory into the lunchroom.

"It's not too late," Bradley called out to your retreating form. The little raise of your hand as you walked away made him want to chase you down.

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

It had been weeks since Bradley had seen you, but he had received an invitation to your engagement party. He wasn't intending to go. He didn't want to have to wish you well as your wedding drew closer. In fact, he was dreading the day he saw an invitation to the actual ceremony.

But he ended up at the Hard Deck, and he knew you were inside before he even walked through the door.

You looked gorgeous in a sundress and denim jacket, and he wished he had never gone away for those six months. He wished he had made you his.

"Bradley," you whispered softly to him as he walked toward the pool table.

He paused and smiled at you, even though it hurt him so much. "Hey, Honey."

Your lips parted, and Bradley was ready for you to scold him again. Ready to hear you tell him not to call you that. But you just said, "It's good to see you."

He nodded and headed to where Nat was waving a pool cue at him. "Me and you against Harvard and Glory."

"Sure," Bradley grunted, and he watched Harvard reach across Glory's chest to rack the balls. He shared a look with Nat who looked as annoyed as he felt.

"Ready?" Nat asked, and Bradley saw Harvard's eyes dip to Glory's body before he nodded.

"Your break, Phoenix," he said, standing so close to Glory, Bradley couldn't tell where his arm ended and hers began.

Every time Bradley looked toward the bar, you were already looking at him. He kind of wished you would look at your fiancé and notice how much of a scumbag he was. But how could you not know? You were smart. You were perfect.

When Bradley headed out for the night, leaving you to deal with sloppy, drunk Brigham, you let your fingers brush against his arm.

He came to a halt next to you, the noise and the crowd pushing him closer to you.

"We could be together...."

You just tucked your hand into your pocket and shook your head. So he left.

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

Bradley wasn't planning on coming. The party had already started before he even left his house, but since he was pacing around and making himself feel sick, he decided to go.

Seeing you at your engagement party, happy and next to Harvard would help him put his feelings all to rest.

So Bradley drove to the restaurant where you used to work. He walked in and sat at a table with Nat.

"Didn't think you'd be here," his best friend said softly. "If you decide you need to leave, let me know and I'll go with you."

"Thanks, Nat," Bradley managed to say. "But I think this might help me in the long run."

When he saw you walk into the room hand in hand with Harvard, Bradley couldn't help but notice how sad you looked. Your eyes found him immediately, and wanted to wrap himself around you. Take you away from here.

"I can't," he muttered to Nat and went to the bar that was set up in the corner of the room. He took a deep breath and asked the bartender for a whiskey, neat. He could hear all of the happy conversations and see everyone socializing around him, but he shouldn't have come.

He downed his drink at the bar and was about to order another one when he heard you. "I'm going to step outside for some air, if you want to join me."

Bradley watched your retreating form as you slipped out through the French doors onto the balcony and out of sight. He set his empty glass on the bar and followed you. As much as he wished he could stop himself, he knew he couldn't.

"Honey," he murmured when he saw you leaning against the balcony railing, looking out at the water.

Bradley knew he looked like shit right now. He hadn't been sleeping, and he was miserable. But you were looking at him like he was lovely. Like he was yours.

"I'm sorry, Bradley," you whispered as you turned to look up at him. "I'm so sorry. I had no idea someone like you would want to be...serious with me."

He could feel his brow scrunch up. "What do you mean... someone like me?"

"Oh... you're just... so sweet and handsome. Smart. Kind. I thought you and I were just hooking up. You called us friends with benefits. I didn't know... But I thought about you, too. I thought about that last night before you left for deployment. You whispered something to me, when you were falling asleep. I thought maybe you were dreaming, or maybe I imagined it."

"Honey." His voice was straining. It was hard to breathe. "I wasn't dreaming, and you didn't imagine it."

Your eyes were on his, and your lips were parted, silently begging him to say it again. He'd never make you beg for anything. He'd never treat you the way Harvard does.

"I love you," he whispered, and your eyes fluttered closed. Your breathing became shallow, and a sound halfway between a laugh and a cry escaped your lips.

"Sweetcheeks! You coming? Time for speeches."

Harvard was beckoning from the doorway, and you were frantically scanning Bradley's face. He wanted to reach for you, but you let a neutral expression fall into place, and then you followed Harvard back inside.

Bradley took a few minutes to himself, looking out at the water. He'd made a huge mistake with you. He should have never called you a friend with benefits. He should have asked you to wait for him; it certainly seemed now like you would have.

He was afraid he was never going to get over you.

With one more deep breath, he walked back inside just as you stood up at your table with a microphone in hand, and he dropped back into his seat next to Nat.

"Thank you all for being here today," you said, but your voice sounded thin and tinny, so unlike you. "I just wanted to say that I can't wait...." You were turning to look at Harvard where he was sitting next to you with a big grin on his face. "I can't wait to marry.... Well, Brigham and I are just so.... We're excited."

Bradley's heart was racing. He couldn't stand listening to you talking about someone else. He needed to leave. He was searching for the best escape route, one where he wouldn't completely disrupt the evening.

But when you cleared your throat, your gaze settled on him, and you smiled softly. "I just need to say something," you said into the microphone with more conviction. You turned toward your fiance. "Brig, I can't marry you. I'm sorry." The microphone hit the table at the same second that Bradley launched out of his seat. He watched you take your ring off and hand it to Harvard who looked like he was in shock.

Then you were moving, weaving between tables and heading his way. You seemed a little hesitant now, your eyes wide as you looked at him. Bradley never wanted you to hesitate with him again.

"Honey," he called out, and suddenly your hand was grasping his as you pulled him outside with you.

Bradley ran with you down the steps and across the sand, your laughter lighting him up from the inside.

"Bradley!" you gasped, once you had reached the parking lot. You were in his arms now, your fingers in his hair as you kissed him and smiled against his lips. "I love you, too."

"Let's get out of here, Honey," he said, scooping you up and carrying you toward his Bronco. You were kissing along his jaw and whispering his name against his skin. "I have a lot of making up to do. Gonna make you mine."

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

Thanks for reading! And thanks to all my friends who helped me along the way with this one! Hope you enjoyed it!

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y-rhywbeth2 · 21 days

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Something I love about BG1+2 is how it simultaneously plays and subverts the demigod/chosen one narrative (which continues in BG3, except with only the subversion. (And Halsin is not joking when Durge tells him what they are: Do NOT advertise that you're a Bhaalspawn.))

I've always been fond of the set up in Saradush in ToB, where the surviving children of Bhaal are being corralled into the besieged city under promise of protection against the entire world - because basically literally the entire world is trying to kill the Bhaalspawn: Your more powerful siblings want you dead; your mortal neighbours, and likely your nation itself either thinks you're inherently evil and are ready to kill you, or you represent such a threat that they're ready to drive you out and/or kill you just in case. Case in point: the aforementioned siege outside the city walls with the army that wants you dead currently raining giant flaming rocks of death over your head.

Some of these guys have no idea what they are, or what's happening, until attempted murder happens.

Like this discussion with one of your random brothers, a guy called Alexander:

Alexander: "You don't look like one of the locals. Are you a child of Bhaal as well, lured here like the rest of us to face our inevitable end?" Charname: "As well? What do you mean?" Alexander: "I myself am one of Bhaal's progeny - or so I've been told. I guess Bhaal's blood runs thicker in some of his children than in others." Sarevok: "By your snivelling manners, I would say Bhaal's blood runs very thin indeed in your veins. Bah-why do I even waste my breath tormenting this cowering cur?" Alexander: "Uh... is there anything else I can help you with?" Charname: "How did you get here exactly?" Alexander: "I wasn't brought here by Melissan, like some of the others. My home village was burned to the ground by a dragon who claimed to be hunting me. My friends... my family... they threatened to give me to the dragon if I didn't leave. So I did. And I heard a lot of other Bhaalspawn were coming here. *sigh* Now I almost wish I hadn't come."

Spoiler alert: He dies. Every single Bhaalspawn in that city dies*, along with everybody except a handful of commoners (*except maybe Viekang, who was not particularly inclined to murder me, so Murder in Baldur's Gate is weird.)

You, a simple peasant from a farming village one day come of age and learn that your absent father was a god, and you are forced to flee forces that are trying to kill you (in this case, your much more powerful half-brother)... it sounds like the start to some kind of fantasy epic, but instead of any fancy destiny you end up in a war torn city surrounded by castoff divine bastards just like you, terrified and unwanted, and then you die, and are forgotten.

And that's what being a Bhaalspawn is!

Whatever grand lies Bhaal tells you in your dreams about how you're special and great power awaits you (if you behave and do his will), your job is: sow death, faith, fear and chaos wherever you roam, strengthen Bhaal's power, and then be a good child and die for Father. No exceptions, save perhaps one, who is explicitly a special prophecy child, and even then is supposed to be doomed by future FR canon because they're still Bhaal's "pawn". There's also Imoen, who might be spared simply by proximity to said prophecy child keeping her alive. Non-game "canon" screwed her over hard. (FR canon and I have a complicated relationship, it must be said. All copies of those books are to be ritualistically burned.)

idk where I'm going with this, I just love how bleak the situation in the city is. No grand destinies, only a discardable pawn to be used, abused and consumed.

...And also that part where Tethyr sends an army to kill you because obviously you are guilty of "crimes against [Tethyr] and, indeed, all of humanity!" by supposedly killing a whole city: They admit they can't prove it, but you're a child of murder, you were born guilty even if you didn't actively do anything.

No, really:

General Jamis Tombelthen: "You are guilty, [Charname]. Of this there is no doubt. And we will not risk your further endangerment of us all. You are a spawn of Bhaal and responsible for the destruction of the city of Saradush*. Your execution has been ordered, [Charname]. May the gods have mercy on your soul."

* I implore you to move with great urgency to intercept the Bhaalspawn before they can do any more damage. Whether or not they are responsible for what occurred in Saradush, we cannot allow them to continue and cannot afford the time for trial... - Tombelthen's orders, courtesy of the Queen of Tethyr

#No I am not done obsessing over the Children of Bhaal: I just love these poor fucks ok #(I have an hour or two's spare time will I use it on anything important? No I'll babble about a decades old game and then get back to work)#This has been Original Baldurs Gate Propaganda Hours #Also don't hire any sex workers in Saradush: they only want to eat your blood #bg2 spoilers #babbling #long post #/durge #/charname

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carry-on-my-wayward-gays · 1 year

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THIS has been driving me insane /pos

Like. Satan below you cannot just drop that on me.

Fucking. Yeah Jimmy knows Tango was excited to see him again. There were tears shed in that tunnel and horns blown and they were so overjoyed and borderline overwhelmed to find each other again.

The smile Tango had when he promised to "ranch it up" soon? And the way Tango's face lit up when Jimmy showed him the ranch? Surely Tango wanted to be Jimmy's rancher again.

But there was something in the way Tango's face fell when confronted with the fact that he hadn't told Jimmy about his arrangements at Gobland. The way Tango stepped away and picked at his cuticles, refusing to meet Jimmy's eyes while he explained what fWhip had promised.

It activated Jimmy's flight response, for whatever reason. He wanted to run and hide away from everyone, but also drop to his knees and beg Tango to stay. Maybe apologize for ever thinking to build the ranch. He'd clutch at the thick fur cloak and tell Tango he'd take the ranch down, to forget about everything that happened, apologize for wasting his time.

But he didn't. He stood in place and made a compromise with Tango. He'd keep his work and home separate, do whatever fWhip wanted and live in Tumble Town, at the ranch.

And Jimmy was fine with it! He was estatic! He couldn't stop thinking about his rancher living with him again. His soulmate, in Tumble Town.

Except Tango hadn't visited since the day he unveiled the ranch.

Jimmy would check in every day, finding no signs of visitors except himself. The place was collecting dust - faster than normal as it was the mesa - but dust nonetheless. Jimmy starts to wonder if maybe he forced Tango to play into his wishes of being soulmates again.

What if Tango had completely moved on from Double Life? He certainly seemed like it. Working for and possibly living with fWhip, completely changing his look, barely associating with Jimmy at all even when he promised - he promised - he would? What if Jimmy was stuck in the past. Stuck missing someone who wanted nothing to do with him anymore, missing the only smidge of a good life he would get with the one person who genuinely loved him.

He was always stuck in the past though. Constantly thinking about where he went wrong or what could've been or what he should've said or shouldn't have said. He just couldn't get with the times. He couldn't grow up and accept life.

Jimmy sobbed. The force of the noise nearly sent him backwards into the sand, though it wouldn't have been that much of a fall.

He was currently sat on his railroad tracks, just in front of the train Scar built. His communicator sat in his hands with Tango's name pulled up, ready to send a whisper to. He was online. Jimmy could easily send the message. But his hands were shaking too much.

Jimmy sniffled and wiped his eyes on his sleeve. He sucked in a breath and typed as quick as he could before his body let out another sob.

You whispered to Tango: do you still like me?

He wanted to drop or even throw his comm but he held it tight, waiting for Tango to respond. He didn't expect anything immediate. He was sure Tango was busier than busy right now. He hated bothering him with such a stupid question.

As Jimmy went to wipe his eyes again his comm buzzed in his hands.

Tango whispered to you: that's an odd question to ask out of nowhere

Tango whispered to you: of course I do. is something wrong lovely?

Jimmy hiccupped, sobbing harder. The nickname was too soft, too domestic for him. This was a whole different world. Tango didn't have to call him pet names or even pretend to care anymore. They weren't soulmates anymore.

You whispered to Tango: i'm sorry i'm still stuck on the ranchers. you can live with fwhip if you want to and forget about me

Jimmy gasped in a breath. He's forgotten to breathe. He needed to breathe. He couldn't suffocate now, the death message would show up in chat and Tango would come check on him and he didn't want to see Tango right now.

Tango whispered to you: songbird are you ok?

Tango whispered to you: why would i do that why are you sorry?

Tango whispered to you: talk to me please

Against his better judgement, Jimmy typed back. Maybe it was some stupid child-like hope he had yet to let go of.

You whispered to Tango: it's ok if you moved on from the ranchers you don't have to pretend because of me i'll live

Tango whispered to you: can i come over?

Jimmy hiccupped and shook his head, replying far too quickly for his own comfort.

You whispered to Tango: no

Tango whispered to you: alright

Tango whispered to you: why would you think i moved on?

Jimmy shivered as the sun began to set and the mesa grew terribly cold. Still he didn't move from the tracks.

You whispered to Tango: you haven't visited and you went to live with fwhip we haven't even talked until now

You whispered to Tango: if you don't want to live at the ranch just tell me

Jimmy watched his comm for a while after that. The minutes that passed dragged on for phantom hours. Jimmy felt a panic rise in his chest that maybe Tango was coming over. But Tango wouldn't break that boundary would he? Even when Jimmy had been so clear on it?

His comm rattled against the rails and Jimmy nearly jumped out of his skin.

Tango whispered to you: jim i absolutely do want to live at the ranch and with you

Tango whispered to you: why would you think i wouldn't?

Tango whispered to you: i'm sorry i haven't been over, fwhip gave me a massive project and i totally got caught up in it

Jimmy sniffed and wiped his eyes. The tears were slowing and he was able to breathe without breaking down into sobs.

Tango whispered to you: you're my rancher jimmy

Tango whispered to you: i'm sorry i made you feel like you weren't

Jimmy finally picks himself up and begins the walk back to his home with weak knees and shaky hands. And he hears nothing in the tunnel.

You whispered to Tango: it's ok. sorry for bothering you with my dumb brain

Tango whispered to you: hey don't put yourself down and you don't need to apologize to me

Tango whispered to you: how about we spend a whole day together to make up?

Jimmy shucks off his dirty boots and shrugs off his vest, hanging it on a coat rack. His hat goes along side it.

You whispered to Tango: just the two of us?

Tango whispered to you: just the two of us

Jimmy snakes his belt from under the loops and drops it next to his boots.

You whispered to Tango: ok

Tango whispered to you: thank you

Tango whispered to you: get some sleep buttercup i'll see you soon

You whispered to Tango: goodnight tango

#a fucking CONCEPT AND A HALF #also tango's nicknames for jimmy <3 #i never get to use them outside full on fics not posted here #but i have like a whole hc list of petnames tango calls jimmy #team rancher #solidaritygaming #jimmy solidarity #tangotek #tango tek #empires smp #empiresshipping #empires x hermitcraft #hermitshipping #trafficshipping #for filtering :) and just in case obvs #rancher duo #rancherduo #shadow's scribing again

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padfootdaredmetoo · 9 months

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Hey there can you please do a Tommy Shelby daughter x Isaiah . Y/n is the daughter of him and Greta and he’s super protective of her she’s is like his rock especially when he got back from the war. maybe a few times they almost get caught and when they do he find them in a compromising position but ya know y/n is Tommys daughter so she acts all nonchalant about it while Tommy is fuming and she tries to talk him down. Hope it makes sense ❤️

Hey love,

This ended up with a lot of Reader & Lizzie development and I feel that I may have made this too fluffy. Hope you enjoy it and I apologize for how long this took me.

Warnings: Parenting, mentions of death, teen anxiety, family themes

“Thomas it’s obvious! Please don't be stupid about this. Talk to her.” Polly’s voice wore down what little patience he had left. Yes, it was obvious his daughter was seeing someone in his team, and that someone happened to be Isaiah.

Something that seemed to be lost on everyone was how this type of thing should be handled. Isaiah, like everyone, had a job to do. As his boss it was Tommy’s job to keep him in line. Going out to do God knows what to his daughter was a huge betrayal. He liked Isaiah, but it was up to them to make the right decision to come forward about it and ask for his blessing.

In which he would consider things carefully with his daughter. If he got involved before that, he would have to punish Isaiah for sneaking around. Which, would probably hurt his daughter and cause a great big fiasco.

Another massive headache to distract everyone from what was important.

“Do you ever listen?” Polly shouted slamming the door to his office behind her. He sat there for a long while staring at the wall thinking about his daughter. She was so much like her mother it caused him chest pain from time to time. She hadn't known her mother, or that side of the family, meaning she herself would never understand or see the similarities.

She had just had her 17th birthday. Tommy could see how his role in her life had rapidly changed the older she got. She was incharge, headstrong, and temperamental. He would be forever grateful that Greta’s qualities were there to balance what she had received from him.

He sighed pouring a glass of whiskey. As much as he wanted to punish Isaiah, he knew this was more her idea than his.

______________________________________________________________________

You laid in bed haunted by your first relationship. So much pressure was on you. Your heart wanted him, but if you made a foolish choice your father’s disappointment would be enough to wipe you off the planet. You thought back to the morning when you had been kissing in the cellar. Arthur almost caught the two of you. Guilt twisted up in your stomach, and you wondered if it was worth all this pain. Thinking about ending it was somehow even more painful.

You thought about your dad, what he was like once he came home to you after the war. He was so bitterly cold with everyone, except you. Then you remembered Grace with as much fondness as a block of moldy cheese. A complete waste of a person, well, you got your baby brother from it so you supposed she was alright in the end.

Then there was Lizzie. You wanted to talk to her so badly, but she would tell your dad. Or worse, look down on you. She was too tall, and slim, and pretty to understand the situation you were in.

Laying there in bed as the night grew later you left it up to fate. If she was awake when you went down stairs you would tell her. If she was asleep then you would keep it a secret.

You pulled a thick sweater over your pajama top before padding down the stairs. You knocked on your father’s study and opened the door. Lizzie was laying on the couch reading a book.

She looked like everything you wish you were. Lizzie wouldn't ask for permission, she lived her life however she wanted. Her eyes looked up from over the top of her book and she looked surprised to see you there.

“Hello.” She sat up and motioned to the other side of the couch. Normally you avoided her, partially out of respect, but also because her aura of perfection annoyed you.

“Erm - Is this a bad time?” You said in a shy voice.

“No, not at all.” She said calmly. You sat down on the couch, she wore a silk house coat that hung on her slender frame elegantly. You looked down at the men’s Pajama bottoms and wool sweater you were wearing and gave a defeated sigh. This was very stupid.

“What’s going on? Everything okay?” Her voice held a tone of genuine concern. You remembered that you had left it up to fate. You took a deep breath then began.

“Well, I really like Isaiah, he’s kind and funny, and I feel really calm when I’m with him, sometimes he will read to me and I'll just fall asleep, which is embarrassing and everyone says you should feel nervous and like there are flies in your stomach, which is very gross, but I don't know what i’m doing and my mum is dead.”

The words came out of your mouth like a hurricane. You took a couple deep breaths then more came to the surface.

“He wants to tell my dad, because he doesn't want to die, which is reasonable, but I don't know how sure I am about this and it’s my life I want to enjoy it, go at my own pace, I don't want to make a bad choice and have dad be disappointed, but also fuck him, I can’t just not live my life. I know you’ve never had to deal with this type of stuff being a woman of “higher education” BUT like I said my mum is dead and Esme is still in the woods, Pol will tell my dad.”

Her eyes were wide as she looked down at you.

“What’s a woman of higher education?” She asked with a lifted brow. You let out a sigh, frustrated that she was focused on the wrong thing.

“You know, you went off to school, got a good job, worked for my dad then fell in love with him. Not a lot of conflict. You guys got married and had Ruby.”

Lizzie let out a laugh that made you want to slap her and cry at the same time. People were so frustrating.

“Darling, oh, is that what you think of me?” There was a fondness in her voice and a softness in her wet eyes that confused you. “That’s - I’ll tell you my story another time, I promise you it was not glamorous in the slightest.”

She lit a cigarette and you wanted to know what she meant.

“This is about you.” She nodded, breathing out a cloud of smoke. “So he makes you feel safe. He knows what your family does for a living. Sounds like a good move.” She responded easily.

“What about dad?”

“Just tell him.”

Your stomach dropped and you still felt like she didn't understand the situation. If your dad and the family knew it would be this huge thing that would swallow you up. It wouldnt be yours anymore.

“Look your father isn't going to make you marry the guy.” She laughed at the idea. “Even if he was that way I wouldn't let him. You need to do your own thing. I would, however, feel better if you had us behind you. I know what it's like to be out there alone.” Her eyes fell onto the fire and her posture went slightly rigid.

“Thanks, Lizzie.” You whispered after a long moment. She gave a small smile then walked with you up to your room. You got into bed wondering what her life was like before drifting off.

___________________________________________________________

The morning came and you found yourself in a losing battle with guilt as Isaiah pulled you into a broom cupboard.

“Have you had some time to think about things?”

“Oh um -” You thought about what Lizzie said and took a breath.

“Look, I’m not trying to pressure you. I just really hate lying to your da.” He gave you a long look and warmth spread across your cheeks. “Whatever you want - Is fine with me.” He said finally.

“I think it’s best we talk to him.” You said letting out a happy giggle as he picked you up. He kissed you hard and your heart rate sped up. You kissed him back and before you knew it you were pressed up against the back wall with your legs around his waist.

It was wrong. But for some reason that made it harder to stop. He made noises that were going to keep you up for days.

______________________________________________________________

Tommy’s POV

Lizzie had spoken to you, about what, she wouldn't say, but it confirmed to him that things were getting out of hand. A small part of him was pleased that you were starting to see Lizzie as a part of the family, the other part of him didn't like the idea of you keeping secrets with anyone but him.

In the corner of his eye he caught the door to the broom cupboard swing shut and he fought with himself for a moment. Might as well put her out of her misery and just get it over with. No one was here to witness it meaning that no one would know this is how it went down. He wouldn't punish Isaiah, just have a chat with him after about what punishment will look like if he messed up again. It would be enough to set him straight.

He opened the door with the intention of sorting this out. Seeing his daughter in a position like that was something he was not prepared for. He set you down immediately, removing his hands.

He was too angry to speak. He had half a mind to kill the stupid kid. He watched your face turn from shock to rage. This was not going to be a easy morning.

“Isaiah, get out.” You snapped, he looked at you for a moment but left when he realised it was in his best interest to listen.

“We were going to tell you today at lunch. We are dating. Nothing bad happened here, so I don't need to be scolded.” You crossed your arms.

“Go home and wait for me there.” Was all he could manage to say. Having a screaming match when they opened in ten minutes was not wise. His tone of voice made your skin pale slightly meaning you would listen. You stomped out of the shop. He waited for Polly to show up and explained before heading home.

He made a stop along the way and tried his best to orginize his thoughts.

________________________________________________________

You walked around the kitchen island in circles.

Lizzie sat there drinking her coffee.

“I really fucked everything up. He’s so mad Lizzie.”

“He’s your father, it's his job to be angry.” She said easily. “He loves you, a lot. He’s got this whole complex about your mum too.” She took a drag of her cigarette. You stopped and turned to look at her from across the kitchen.

“What does that mean?”

“It means, he will never forgive himself for your mum, in his head the whole thing was his fault. Him not being there when you were born - the whole thing. Last thing he ever wrote to your mum was about how he would keep the two of you safe. He takes it very seriously. He wants to protect you, but this is new ground for him and he’s not sure how to do it. He can be a real idiot about things, but that’s why he’s got me to help him sort it out. He’s not going to hurt you or Isaiah.”

“What she said.” You dad’s voice made you jump. He came over and placed a kiss on the top of Lizzie’s head. That stupid part of you that wanted to prove him wrong kicked up.

“I’m not going to let you control everything.” You said, something about arguing felt good. You like Isaiah, you wanted to fight for him.

“I don’t want you to live that way.” He said after a long moment. “But you're my kid, in my house, there are rules.” You thought about arguing but waited to see what he would say.

“First off, curfew is 8pm.”

“11.” Lizzie said interrupting him.

“10pm. No boys in your room - ever. Kissing is fine - nothing without clothes. Ever.”

“Once you're married.” Lizzie said with a smile in her voice.

“Never get married.” He said getting annoyed at being interrupted.

“Ouch.” She said in a mock hurt voice.

“There’s - Parenting. It’s hard. If you can wait till your ready - it’s -”

“Dad ew-” You held your hands out as if it could stop the conversation.

“No, no one had this talk with Ada and - “ He seemed lost for words.

“Her husband died.” You said confused.

“Exactly. Teen pregnancy is a real killer okay? So just dont make a baby - ever.”

“Once you're married.” Lizzie said with a smile.

“Which is never.” He said firmly.

“Now the real thing you need to hear from us. If you come and tell us something awful has happened to you, we will believe you and unleash a world of hurt on that boy.” She said with a serious tone pointing at you. “If you get pregnant, you’ll get a wedding and a place to live. But I think we both know you want time to get there, eh?” You nodded at her. “Exactly, so don't do anything we would have done, and take your time. Find the right boy when your ready."

You finally broke her stare to look to your dad standing next to her. He was gripping the chair tight enough to turn his knuckles white. His gaze was focused out the window on the wet grass in the backyard.

“I want you to be happy- In your life.” The words were not difficult, but the meaning behind them was enormous. You thought about everything your dad, and family did for you. You felt your face get hot at the words you knew you should say.

“I am informed, and I will not make a baby, because, I do not - at this time- want to be married or to live in a house on my own, with an infant. Ruby is annoying enough as it is.” You added the last bit in to lighten the mood.

“Don’t talk about your sister like that.” Tommy said in a worn voice.

“I know - I love her for it.” You said and went over to hug your dad. He put his arm around you tightly and kissed the top of your head.

“Lizzie.” You let go of him and watched the look of confusion on her face as you reached down to her. She hugged you back awkwardly due to her seated position. When you pulled away your dad handed you a small box of pastries from your favorite shop, but it didn't distract you from Lizzie brushing the tears from her cheeks.

“Well, those look good,” She said in a high voice and you pushed the box to her.

___________

You and Isaiah, did not make a baby or get married. However, when you look back on that time in your life you remember your parents looking at you in a different way for the first time. Like an adult, in charge of her life. You remember getting close with Lizzie fussing over outfits and various arguments, and feeling secretly touched by how much she and Tommy cared about the situation.

#peaky blinders #tommy shelby #dad tommy shelby #Tommy Shelby & daughter reader #Peaky blinders #Peaky blinders imagine #peaky blinders one shot #Thomas shelby imagine #lizzie stark #lizzie shelby

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