#and I just hope that I got everything at least close to being accurate!!

[dreamsinmoonlight]

Could you do a yandere Adam x fem reader? Let your imagination run free, I JUST NEED SOMETHING. also, love your writing! You write Adam super accurate :)

(Sorry this took so long, I wanted to space out my stories a bit. Admittedly had this done before Angel Massages >w<

I'm so touched you liked my work and think I write this moron well, I hope this is good enough for you; I found myself thinking about yandere!Adam and deciding that that fool could hurt everything from a fly to a dragon but he sure as hell wouldn't want to hurt you. Hence this.)

Obsession

It wasn't that the first man was obsessed with you; it was that you had made the first mistake of catching his eye, the second of agreeing to that first date and the final one of saying “I love you”.

The progression was slow enough that in real time you had never even noticed. Adam was always the type who was everywhere you looked anyway, he was the kind of person who drew attention by being there, by being loud and vulgar and all around an annoyance. But you'd made the mistake of smiling a few too many times and something in his head had switched; suddenly it wasn't just that he was everywhere you looked but you were everywhere he did. He watched you, curious at first then intrigued and finally attracted. You were cute and sweet and you smiled when he did something stupid and he took that how he wanted. He took that as interest.

When he asked you out it had partially been with an intention to defuse whatever it was causing him to watch you as much as he did. The fact you said yes definitely didn't cause butterflies, that feeling was hunger. Yeah. Hunger. But he couldn't help but think you looked nice in the dress you put on for the date and your hair was very nice the way you'd styled it and your makeup made your already pretty face all the prettier. He had grinned like he always did and boasted aloud of how lucky you were to have him, the first man, the Dick Master himself, going out with you. The fact that his pride quickly internally turned to irritation when he noted the eyes looking you over, looking over his date, well that was nothing; it was normal wasn't? Any man would glare at someone staring at their date the way they stared at you, be upset that anyone would even think they had a chance with you when he was there.

He kept telling himself that. He'd keep telling himself that. You were sweet to him and you didn't know, it was hard to really know what you were doing to him when he didn't even fully understand it; he was obnoxious and narcissistic and you were aware of that much but you liked that about him, and how sweet he could be sometimes. So you made a mistake: you told him you loved him and that switch that had already been flipped broke.

Suddenly you found yourself rarely having a moment to yourself. Or honestly much personal space; the angel, despite his own duty to complete, spent more time hovering over you than anything else, following close. At first it was pretty benign in public at least, he was always close by but never too close, angels were weird about PDA and Adam for all of his attitude was good at playing games. But before you knew it people started to avoid you; friends stopped talking to you as much, acquaintances stayed away. You didn't really notice it much, or pay it much mind, people got busy, even heaven had stuff to do, but then the Incident happened.

The angel had been a newer arrival and he was as shaky and uncertain as a lamb. He stuttered and stammered and fumbled his way through heaven with the confidence of prey thrown into the lion's den. You were good and sweet and how could you resist a person needing help? That would be wrong, this was heaven and you were an angel; helping was what angels did.

You smiled and approached, offering a hand to the shaking angel to help him. “I can show you the way if you want, I know this building like the back of my hand.”

He looked at you with wide blue eyes and a smile that was just starting to creep onto his features; he reminded you of the kids who sometimes showed up. You hated to see kids come to heaven but better there than Down Below. He took your hand and started to open his mouth but a dark shadow cast over you both and you could only blink for a second before seeing the new angel's expression change. What you saw in his eyes was something deep; it was fear, primal and true, and his hand slipped from yours, tears pooling quickly in terrified eyes. You tried to ask what was wrong; he ran away before a single sound left your lips, leaving behind a trail of feathers shed in terror. You were confused and turned around to see what cast the shadow.

Adam stood behind you and at first everything seemed normal. His mask showed that giant toothy grin of his, that glow of electric gold that hid the real face of the first man, of your man. But you noticed the glitch, the crackle in the mask that you'd never seen before, and something in the back of your mind felt something was very much Not Right. He always loomed over you, it was a matter of fact and of height, he slouched a lot as it was and still he was taller than you.

Maybe it was the wings; you decided that had to be it. Usually, when he was out and about, his wings were tucked under his arms, almost inconspicuous despite their glowing hue. Yet they were out now and spread, beautiful in their glory. Terrifying to that primal sense within your mind; for a second you felt you weren't looking at the same man who liked to play you songs on his guitar or hold you in his lap while he worked in his office or steal bites of your food no matter what you decided to buy. He wasn't silly or annoying or even that sweetness that you came to love in him; something was frightening in that grin and those narrowed pure gold eyes. You thought to yourself that the face underneath was likely far more frightening than the electronic features of his mask.

That was the moment and you got the sense you were aware but he wasn't. He never let you out of his sight, save for when you needed to go to the bathroom or such. Constantly he was by your side and while in public still he managed to hold onto some level of decorum, privately he seemed unwilling to let go. He held you, he touched you, and there was something mad in the way his fingers pressed into your skin, never harming you, not to that degree. You knew he was an exterminator, the leader of the exterminators, and you knew he was dangerous and violent and capable of so much pain, but the first time you realized he wasn't aware of what he was truly doing was when his grip had gotten too tight and left a bruise. The look he gave you was nothing short of heartbreaking; who knew he could even make such a face.

The only thing that never seemed to change was the sex. Before he was intense, hungry and active; now he was just as much in every factor, in every way. He fed upon you, your body, your passions, and some days your head was left spinning with the sensation of bliss that came with being at his mercy. The only real difference was how often he drew those three little words from you, seemed driven further by them; whispering them against his skin made him crazy, to the point he'd taken you in any way he could, filling you up and leaving you shaking. Crying them out in passion made him hold you closer and dig those teeth of his into your neck, your shoulder, the flesh of your breasts; marks were getting harder and harder to hide when he left them wherever he could. You had to be careful speaking them aloud after the fact; sometimes it spurned him to new life and your body sometimes needed a day or two to recover if that happened. Sometimes it made him beg for it, actually beg. It was the same as that day he'd accidentally hurt you; the depth of the breaks inside him made you want to hold him and never let go as well.

You never saw that scared little angel again but you did see the one who had made the mistake of whistling at you. Only once though, before your constant shadow made sure that they didn't whistle again; Sera wasn't very happy about it but Adam's status was dangerously safe and you came to understand that he was starting to become comfortable doing things he very much shouldn't. And you became aware you may be a little mad yourself when you barely flinched as he cupped your chin in his bloodied hand, claws leaving streaks of red against your skin as he smiled down at you.

“I should have plucked out his eyes as well as his tongue,” he said in a tone far too low for the boastful first man.

Should you have told him not to have done either? You mulled over that question only later when you washed your face and settled into your usual place on his lap.

Telling him you loved him had been the straw but it became the solution. New people came every day, they couldn't possibly know immediately what was going on, that heaven had a very dangerous problem. But the sweetness of those three words distracted him like nothing else and the laugh he'd give, “I know, how could you not”, and the souls got to live to enjoy heaven in safety, away from the monster you'd fed.

No, Adam was not obsessed with you. It simply was that once he had you, he couldn't, wouldn't, refused to continue his eternal existence without you. And no one, not in heaven, not in hell, was going to take you away from him.

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel adam #hazbin x reader #adam x reader #yandere!adam #fanfiction #fanfic #violence tw

[wildflowercryptid]

florian's always struggled to make friends so he didn't really have any back in galar... uh, actually — it might be more accurate is that he USED to have one...

headcanon explanation + bonus under the cut!

like mentioned above, florian has always struggled a lot with making friends. while he's a kindhearted and friendly kid, he can come across as kinda intense to others, ( especially when discussing his interests, ) and that's led to him often being alienated amongst his peers. though he's grown used to being by himself and has learned to not care if others dislike him, he still hopes that he can find at least a few people to connect with outside of his family. it's a hope that's always been present, ever since he was growing up in wyndon.

of course, he wasn't the only loner amongst his childhood peers. around 7 years old, he found a friend in bede fee, who attended the same primary school as him. bede themself wasn't exactly the friendliest kid out there and often had spats with people who made fun of them for their family's low-income status, but florian managed to get them to warm up to him. the two got along pretty well and found comfort in having a friend that seemed to understand them, both being lonely kids who were often picked on by others. after a while, they became pretty much inseparable as they frequently played, read, and laughed together. to florian, it didn't matter that people picked on him just as long as he had bede there to be his friend. bede shared a similar sentiment... at least, at first he did.

admittedly, florian has a habit of resting on his laurels when it comes to things he doesn't have an interest in improving. ( it doesn't matter if he isn't as good of a battler as his sister, all he needs is to be strong enough to keep himself safe during field research. it doesn't matter if he's ostracized amongst his peers and looked down upon, he's alright as long as he has someone to call a friend. etc, etc. ) bede, however, couldn't keep themself from caring about their place in the pecking order. they were sick of others looking down on them, sick of others thinking they were better than them. they just couldn't understand how florian could stand people treating him poorly without getting angry. over time, frustration and resentment towards his attitude festered inside them. these feelings were only exacerbated by their struggles at home and being sent to the orphanage. while they would still call each other friends, their bond had definitely become strained.

everything came to a head when they were both 11 years old, when rose visited bede's orphanage and his acknowledgement caused a major shift in their personality. after all, someone that important seeing their potential surely meant that they better than their peers, right? they soon became much more pompous and rude in nature. florian still stayed close by despite bede's worsening attitude towards him, but it wasn't before long until all of their pent-up feelings came flooding out. their friendship ended with massive fight, with bede telling florian that they were sick of being weighed down by an " annoying pest " like him. while they expected for him to take their cruel remarks in stride like he always did with everyone else, bede couldn't help but feel a little guilty when florian ran off in tears. the two stopped talking after that fight and ever since then, there's always a worry in the back of florian's mind that his friends will eventually get sick of him like bede did. ( thankfully, the friends he's made since then have helped make him feel a lot more secure in their relationships. )

apologies for the long-winded explanation, here's the bonus i promised to make up for how sad this hc got :

the goofy ass side effect of coming up with this headcanon is realizing that they accidentally shaped each others' taste in guys rip

#hi pls enjoy my extremely niche headcanon #gotta love early childhood friendships that irreversibly fuck up your ability to connect w/ others #( totally not talking from experience nope nah ) #i like to imagine them meeting again in their 20s and acting like catty exes ( despite never dating or having rom feelings for each other ) #okay i'm feeling exhausted i need to sleep #pokemon #pokemon scarlet and violet #pokemon sword and shield #pkmn scarvio #pkmn swsh #pokemon bede #rival bede #pokemon florian #trainer florian #hc : (pkmn) mjverse #chara : florian russel cavallari #chara : bede fee #chara : victor pottinger #chara : ortega regino #🎨 : mj draws #🕰️ : scheduled post

[kurosstuff]

Hello, how are you doing? :)

Since requesrts are open and your writing is marvelous, I wanted to request an Azula x gn reader oneshot/fic where reader is a childhood friend who grew distant to Azula over time, but is now chosen to be her fiancé in an arranged marriage.

You don't have to write it, but I still hope you likr the idea!

Have a great day ^^

Hi! I'm doing better at least! Thank you so much♡ It means so much to me to hear you like my writing!

I'd like to apologize for not writing this sooner- was taking a break with long fics- and idk how accurate azula is still- haven't watched fhe show in so long-! Also hope I got Ozai ok? Never wrote anything with him in it before I don't think

-

I got carried away♡.. this came out as more of a reconnection type thing? Eh- maybe that's good?

Summary: read ask♡

Warnings(?): azula being azula, reader freaks out/panics alot, ozai, soft(?) Azula(she's like kinda nice sometimes); slight angst. Misunderstanding(but not really), friends to strangers to lovers(?), both reader AND azula are oblivious on how they really feel,

Azula x G/N reader: arranged

Being azulas friend had its ups and downs

Mostly downs

"Oh, come on, Y/N. Don't such a kid, " Azula grumbled, trying to get you to stay still. She read a trick where if someone still stays, a firebender can hit the target above the person's head without any injury. In a book for children for whatever reason. "I'd never hurt you," which is partly true - Azula wouldn't hurt you on purpose, or she would - you weren't actually sure

But like time- friendships come and go.

As you grew older, you saw how awful of a person Azula was turning out to be. How cruel of a person she truly was - how little care she had for another being - even her own brother. Seeing how she was amused and not concerned for her brother during the Agni Kai- you decided enough was enough.

This 'friendship' was becoming too dangerous too frightening. You were aware you can't just up and end the friendship you decided to distance yourself from her. Feeling confident, she wouldn't notice the change

-

You weren't sure if she ever noticed- if by chance she did. She never said or gave the indication she knew. After a couple of months, you stopped coming around to hang out.

You felt bad, but you believed this was for the best.

It's been almost a three full year when you received the letter. One you'd overlook if it weren't for the very specific golden charm closing the envelope showing it was from the royal family. Usually, being given this letter is either an honor or.. something much worse. Swallowing down your nerves, you sat down staring at the envelope for almost an eternity. Opening it carefully, you begain to read.

Everything seemed normal in the letter besides the fact you are to be summoned to the Fire Lord himself for something. Totally normal. Not like your gonna die or anything. Be shipped off to war maybe? You'd 100% are not worried.

Nope.

-

Rushing to get ready, you practically jumped in the air in Fright when you heard the knocking on the door. Your nerves were shot, and this whole thing was just making it worse.

You almost hoped to not see her there. But that'd be impossible since she lived there. Opening the door two guards stood infront of you looking at you sternly.

"Are you Y/N?" Nodding your head yes- you didn't trust your voice at the moment. They turned and gestured to follow "come. We will escort you to the Palace"

-

You don't remember anything on the way there - it was all a blur - you blame it on your nerves, but it did help distract from the imitating Palace. Until you got there. The two guards stepped out and opened the door for you - following them the huge door to the Palace opened slowly with a creek. You took a deep breath and stepped in- turning you watched as the doors closed, sealing your fate. Locking you in - A sound of someone clearing their throat caught your attention

"This way," following closely, you dared not speak, not trusting your voice - and for the fact your throat was so dry a word couldn't get out when if you wished it.

Being led by two fully armed guards was almost as unnerving as the lack of decorations in the halls leading to the Fire Lords office. It was devoid of anything to show the human side of him - if there was any. The only lights shown were from flames - obviously, one's from the Fire Lord himself probably made. The only sounds you could hear was the sound of your heart beating harshly in your ears and the metal taps of the swords on the guards.

Stopping in front of huge double doors, they turned to you unblinking. "He's inside." Was all they said before they opened the doors for you. Once you stepped in they shut loudly the candles blowing out closest to you leaving you alone in the dark- minus the glow of flamed down the hall. Clenching your hands you took a deep breath and tried to relax-

The closer you got to the flames- the more the urge to run as far as you could got worse- alarm bells ringing in your head at the thought of this all going wrong. Something practically 100% possible. Even on his good days, he would be cruel. Stopping in front of the flame wall blocking you from the full view of the man himself - Fire Lord Ozai. His face covered in the shadows from how he sat, but the flames didn't hide how terrifyingly huge he looked - bowing in respect you were about to great him- before he put his hand up to stop you

"Do you know why I asked you here?"

It took you a moment to gain the courage to respond - surprisingly, he allowed you the moment - as if he thought you actually knew the reason. "No, Fire Lord Ozai. I do not. " A deep hum was all you got in return - fabric moved, glancing up, you gulped.

He stood up.

Walking towards you, the flames moved, almost glinding out of his way like a door - he stood before you. Moving his hand in a gesture, you understood to stand straight up , your eyes cast away in respectfear. Walking around you in a circle.

Like a predator hunting his prey. He stood in front of you again after a moment. "Yes. You are perfect." The odd complaint from him did nothing to ease you - seeing your confusion, he hummed."There's an arrangement. Obviously, your Father never told you." The look you held did nothing to stop him,"the arrangement was. His firstborn was to marry my firstborn." The words he spoke caused a mixed sense of emotions in you- confusion, anxiousness. And fear from what was your next thought.

His firstborn was banished.

"But. Giving the events that unfolded with my firstborn. The agreement changed a bit. You will marry my second born."

Clicks of footsteps echoed behind you. You didn't dare look behind you.

"You are to marry my daughter- Azula. Whom I was made aware you were friends of sorts." Turning away, he walked back to his throne. "You will be Wed in two months."

Behind you, someone cleared their throat, turning around, and froze. Azula stood arms crossed, staring at you - almost glaring from how narrowed her eyes were. The same smug smirk from years ago is still present. She almost didn't seem to change much but all the more terrifying. Even if deep down you were happy to see her

"Well. Hello Y/N, " she spoke, voice coming out in a condescending purr. "It seems like we have some catching up to do." Turning, she gestured you to follow her

-

You followed Azula to her room. You've been in it once before, but that was years ago. Before you felt comfortable - now you felt uneasy - tense about the whole thing. Standing far away from the bed but close enough, you looked around the room - it looks the same as it did, but with some added things such as plants and a new dresser replacing the old silver one she used to own.

Azula sat on her bed, pulling some books out to go through every once in a while, looking up at you - face unreadable. Shows how much has changed before you could tell what she was thinking even if she wouldn't show it - now it's like she's a new person - and in a way, she is.

"What's the matter with you?" Azula asked(more like demanded), looking over at her- Azula seemingly growing frustrated at the books in her hands- what about you weren't sure. Turning towards you with eyebrow raised an annoyed look on her face. You haven't answered her yet

"Oh- uh, nothing. Why?" Humming she placed the book down on her lap- gesturing towards the bed. Getting the message you sat down on the edge. She sat silent for a moment before sighing.

"Look." She started after a while. She took a second to think her response through - it was an odd sight. Azula glanced at you- raising an eyebrow at the unnerved state you were in. Standing up, she walked to her counter. "I get it. The situation we're in is weird. " Pulling some object out, she turned to face you. Handing it to you. It looked like a squishy turtle duck

Seeing the confusion on your face when you took it, she sighed, facing away from you once the look of realization hit you. "You always needed something to hold to calm down when you got like this." She spoke, sitting down beside you. Turning it around the squish toy was the same one you were given- and forgot about years ago. When you and Azula were close. The same accidental burn mark on the shell of the toy. You still remember how she gave it too you

-

Sitting on the bench, you held your hurt, burning hand crying. Clutching them close - you knew you shouldn't have let Azula talk you into doing such a trick.

A dangerous trick - yet she did. And here you sat hurt.

And alone.

Hurried footsteps came from behind you - you knew those footsteps. Sitting upright, you used your uninjured hand to whip the tears away harshly. You didn't want to give Azula another reason to tease you.

"There you are" she spoke. Sitting next to you she held something behind her. Face slightly flushed from either embarrassment or what you didn't know- nor gave it much thought once a toy was shoved in your face "here- I. I heard from the towns people that a thing called a 'squishy' helps calm people down. Brings comfort or whatever. So take it. It's yours" Holding it in your hand you smiled tearfully. Azula looked like she practically softened before she turned to your hand- huffing she gestured for it

"we need to clean this."

-

The memory brought a happy smile to your face. Looking up, you saw the quick look of relief on Azulas face before it hardened. "..you kept it?" A shrug was all you got in response for a moment

"Of course I did." Azula mumbled before clearing her throat, brushing you off without a word. Turning away from you - Azula was silent as you messed with the squishy in your hand. Turning towards you, she opened her mouth before shutting it. This caused to pause - Azula never hesitates, nor does she stop until she gets what she wants. Somethings wrong

Before you could ask, a knock came at the door. After giving permission, a maid came in bowing, "My lady, your training room is ready for you." A wave of her hand and the maid ran off hurriedly down the hall.

"You're coming with me." Azula spoke standing. She walked to the door, glancing back at you - an eyebrow arched. Obviously she was waiting for you to follow. Trying to swallow your nerves you jumped up putting the squish on the bed before turning to follow Azula.

The walk was quiet

-

Entering the training room a couple test dummies stood around the room. Arms stretched out like you used to see from the target practice dummies you'd come acrossed before.

"Sit there- I'll be back" Azula pointed towards some benches a bit far off- you sighed- it's better to just let her do what she says half the time anyways.

After you sat on the bench, Azula moved to the changing room. Her mind jumbled. Scattered around, and she couldn't think of a good reason as to why. Pacing back and forth, she clenched her jaw angrily

Azula was panicking on the inside - ever since she found out it was you, she was to marry. Even worse when she saw you. Would she be a horrible wife? Be like her father and treat her spouse horribly to the point of another abandonment? No. She won't be like him. Azula refuses to treat the one she's bound to in such a way - even Azula isn't that cruel of a person. She's not soft - she's not kind either. She knows the reason why you left her even if you didn't say.

It was her fault

Learning the first choice of who you were originally gonna be married to didn't help her feel good at all. Did you know you were gonna marry her brother? That you left cause of that? The selfish, selfish side of Azula prayed that was the real reason you left. She knows it's not, but it's just easier to think

She wants to prove that she's the best choice - the only choice. Of course, the arranged part of the marriage didn't make her feel happy made her feel horrible. If you were to marry her, she'd want it to be of your free will - not be forced.

Azula stopped pacing. What? Why is that the thing she's focused on. Blinking she crossed her arms. Of course the thought of someone being forced to marry her set an uneasy feeling inside her, but. The thought of marrying you wasn't bad at all-

Why is that? It makes no sense why Azula was and still is hung up on a loss of a friend. The loss of you since the beginning was horrible. It made her sick- she'd admit it only to herself now that she missed you- but.. why does she feel relief from the thought of marrying you? Was it cause she knew you?

Shaking her head she quickly got dressed

-

Fiddling with your thumbs, you glanced around the room - thankfully, in a more relaxed mood. Your heart no longer felt like leaping out of your chest. The whole area was spotless- which wasn't a surpise given how certain people would react to a messy training hall. You shuddered at the memory.

Looking over when the door opened, your face flushed a bit. Azula was already looking your way when she came out. Without a word, she stepped up and moved the dummies a bit before she begins she started to stretch. Standing straight she smirked back at you.

"Keep those eyes on me," she begain her training. Hitting the dummies far back with a punch in the air- blue flames came out in a flicker illuminating her air and passing some of the training dummies closest- but surprisingly never touching them. Only hitting her target

It wasn't much of a surpise on how good of a fighter Azula was- but you can't help but you can't help but still be surprised at how well she can control her flames. You've seen fire benders fight and train before, this wasn't the first- but it was the first seeing just how different she was to the others. If anyone else tried this. Tried to hit the target from the farthest to the front. 100% the flames passing the others would be hit and burned, but for Azula- it was like it never touched.

The more she hit and kicked, the more in awe you were in watching. If anything, it looked like a dance you'd see from how fluent and confident Azula moved to attack.

As quick as she began, the training ended. Azula walked towards you, and she didn't even break a sweat- even her hair was kept in place even though she was hitting and kicking. Standing infront of you she crossed her arms almost smirking. "Well?" She spoke with an eyebrow raised

"You were perfect! How did you even do that?"

"I'm a natural. No trouble at all" Azula spoke smugly- she wasn't gonna tell you how long it took for her to get the attack right when she was younger. Everything needs to be perfect. Azula hummed, interrupting your praise for a moment. "..We added more flowers to the garden. I'll show you" she spoke almost oddly. The praise you gave her felt weird- but it filled her ego. Of course it was perfect.

This was Azula

Nothing less than perfect no matter what.

She turned to leave to redress ignoring your call.

"We'll go once I come back"

-

The garden wasn't totally different from how it was since the last time you saw it. The tree in the middle has grown much older but still hanging strong - a knew bench was placed near it, giving the tree and pond underneath. The sun hitting perfectly in-between the leafs and from the rocks below made it have almost a glow to it.

Looking around, the bushes nearby were cut in the specific square way the Fire Lord himself seemed to prefer rather than the rounded ones. Stopping once you heard quaking noises. A smile came over your face, walking to the center pond. You knelt down, looking at the turtle ducks

"Here. You can feed them if you'd like" Azula spoke, holding a small bag of bread out. Thanking her you took it and started to break them up. Azula watched her eyes softening at the sight.

Azula couldn't put her finger on what was wrong with her. Was it her nerves? Why does this scene in front of her make her feel off? The way you're kneeling in front of the turtle ducks the way you gently fed them. The way the lowering sub hits your face. Blinking, she scowled, looking away from you. Looking out to the pond on the other side

"Do you want to feed one, Azula?" Not getting a response, you looked over, frowning at what you saw.

Azula looked almost troubled by something. "Azula?" Calling out to her gave no help. It was like she was here but not here at the moment. Calling out to her again in a softer tone to not startle her- she blinked at you slowly before registering where she was. Standing up, you watched her closely

"Azula. Are you ok?"

Azula just nodded slowly. A moment passes before she bits her tongue. A question on the tip of her tongue. She doesn't want to ask. But she has to. She needs to if she really wants to not be like her father. Not in this way at least

"Are we still friends?" Azula asked before she could stop. "Like I know this is an arrangement but. Are we?"

You didn't responded right away. Just stood there thinking. The way she looked at you- you couldn't tell what she was thinking. It was like looking at a new person. Slowly nodding your head "yes we are." You bit your lip in thought "can we have a do over? From how things ended-" it was a selfish thing to ask. To pretend you didn't just disappear from her life.

Azula nodded her head

"Then.. we can start over?" You said, looking away from Azula for a moment - turning back to look at her - her gaze was on the pond in front of you both.

"Don't see why not. We're not getting married for a couple of months, so we have time"

#azula x reader #avatar x reader #azula #atla x reader #azula kept the squish toy totally not cause it reminded her of you and she missed you alot #and she totally didnt keep it in good condition cause she hopped youd comw back♡ #idk i kinda added the panic/squish thinf cause i was panicky earlier and wished i had something like that♡ #so um♡ hope you dont mind #this is more of a rebuilding of a relationship and more type thing #like- idk??

[stinkysam]

Buggy the Clown - I don't feel it anymore.

Warning : none

Genre : Angst

Synopsis : “you fall out of love.”

Reader : male (you/yours)

Oh, Buggy loved the way you stared at him. So adoring and full of love, making his heart burst with appreciation for you. He'd often catch you looking at him for no reasons other than just because you could. Grabbing his face and pulling him close just to stare into his blue green eyes, ignoring his protests, too embarrassed to hold your gaze for too long. He loved it. Basking in it each time you allowed him to.

Then you'd pull him even closer, nose against nose, blinking in morse code “I love you”. He didn't like it much at first, not liking it when you touched his nose, source of insecurity. And it took him time to notice it was morse code, thinking you just liked to blink rhythmically, but when he did, his heart made a jump. He tried to learn it the way you did it, to reply to your loving words.

But you stopped doing it, not giving him the possibility to learn “you”.

Then he stopped catching you staring at him randomly. He thought nothing of it, believing you just got more discreet over time.

But he missed it. He missed catching you staring and winking at you to make you smile. Now the rare times he did catch you, you just politely smiled ?

The first few times you did it he thought you were just in your thoughts, too preoccupied by whatever to react properly or notice he was winking.

Then you slowly stopped saying “I love you”, and that, he took it harder.

It's no secret Buggy is someone who needs reassurance, because he will easily believe you will leave and betray him, just like Shanks and others did before. He had spent a majority of his time telling himself you would betray him in hope to chase away his feelings for you, he was unsuccessful.

The lack of “I love you” made him doubt. And he didn't like that. Because he didn't want to doubt you. He wanted to trust you and tell himself you still loved him. Yes, even if you had stopped saying it.

And each rare time you said it, his heart was appeased. Bumbling in his chest like for your first “I love you”. But he still missed how much you used to tell him. How easily it slipped from your pretty lips.

Maybe people were right, you stop loving hard after a few months. Too used to the other, you find little bits of him you used to find cute, now annoying. So he should get used to it. Even if it wasn't flashy anymore, at least you still had love for him.

Even if you spent more time with other crewmates.

He tried not to be jealous. He wanted to look like a confident captain who wasn't afraid of who his boyfriend talks to. But… you really did spend a lot of time with them.

You used to love spending your time with Buggy, now it seemed like you preferred to stay away from him. He missed you. His favorite freak.

He tried being vocal about his concerns. Or, more accurately, tried to prove to himself you still loved him by cuddling you as much as you allowed him to. You used to love that, being physically close to him even taking care of his hair, his make-up. But now you pushed him away, saying you didn't have time or weren't in the mood.

Buggy didn't like that. He liked having what he wanted and right now he wanted you but you refused him that, choosing to spend time in your shared room with some other crewmates than with him, your boyfriend.

Laying alone in his bed, Buggy thinks.

When was the last time you told him you loved him, unprompted ?

Kissed him because you simply could ?

Proudly announced to your crewmates who you were dating, making them roll their eyes as it was the 100th time you told them ?

Held him tightly in your sleep ?

Reassured him that you still loved him ? Despite everything ?

…

Did you still even love him anymore ?

God, he tried to trust you, to believe in you, but now he was worried. What if your love for him had worn out ? What if he was right and you no longer felt anything for him ?

Then, one day, you knocked at his door quietly to announce to him you fell out of love with him. That shattered him.

Buggy stared at you, shocked. Saying nothing for a moment, hoping it was just a bad joke of yours.

“I'm sorry.” You said, looking down.

He wanted to ask you why. Why do you not love him anymore ? Did he do something wrong ? Can he fix it ? Why do you look so sad when you're the one hurting him like this, so profoundly ?

He threw you out of his room, pushing you out before slamming the door shut, not wanting you to see the tears in his eyes.

“Get the hell out of my ship !” He yelled through the door.

He knew it would happen. He should've seen it coming. Why did he trust you ? Why did he stop listening to himself ? He should've listened to his brain rather than his heart, that way he wouldn't have been hurt. He shouldn't have let you in. Not even in his crew.

Why did he let you in ?

#male reader #m!reader #one piece #one piece x male reader #one piece imagine #one piece live action x male reader #one piece live action imagine #one piece live action #opla #opla imagine #opla buggy #opla x male reader #buggy x reader #buggy x you #buggy the clown x male reader #buggy the clown x reader #buggy the clown imagine #buggy the clown

[justsomeoneintoomanyfandoms]

Would you be willing to do relationship hcs with any of the following from Blue Exorcist? :0

Juzo Shima, Satan, Shiro Fujimoto, Yuri Egin, Mephisto?

Hi Anon! Thank you for your request! I hope you like the headcanons.

Fandom: Blue Exorcist

Characters: Juzo Shima, Satan, Shiro Fujimoto, Yuri Egin, Mephisto Pheles x gn! Reader (separate)

Juzo is an interesting balance between a super caring partner who would never hurt a fly and someone who would fight entire wars if you asked him to.

In the same vein, he’s more than willing to do anything you ask of him, even if it’s something as simple as getting rid of a bug.

A really good listener. Anything you want to talk about, he’s setting aside whatever he reasonably can to put all of his focus on you.

I feel like he can be a bit overprotective at times, even to the point of smothering you but if you ask him to back off and let you do your thing, he’ll respect your wishes.

Juzo just doesn’t want anything to happen to you. He’s already lost a lot of his friends and family to demons, he couldn’t bear the thought of losing you too.

Satan’s a challenging one to write relationship headcanons for, mostly because the only “relationship” we ever saw him in was his obsession with Yuri. So I’ll try to write these as accurately as possible without making them completely toxic.

Very willing to learn from you and listen. He’s a curious being after all and, while the number of people he trusts or cares about is very small, he does value their opinions.

Definitely the kind of person (can I call him a person if he’s a demon?) to cherish quality time. He can be a bit clingy sometimes, but he just wants to spend time with the person he cares about most.

He’s also very into gift giving but be warned, his gifts may be a bit erratic at first. He’s sort of like a stray cat that’s taken a liking to you. You might end up with dead bugs and sticks beside your bed.

All of that being said, a relationship with Satan is almost certain to be toxic in some way shape or form. He’s never had a “normal” relationship and doesn’t know where to start since he doesn’t see anything wrong with his way of thinking.

Shiro is a lot like Juzo in that he’s got two sides to him in a relationship. And I don’t mean this in a bad way!

On one hand, he’s the most caring and protective partner you could hope for. He’s always paying attention to what you’re talking about and will do his best to support you in everything you do.

On the other hand, he will tease you mercilessly and play minor pranks at every possible moment. It’s one of his love languages.

Having said that, he respects you deeply and will always back off with his teasing if you’ve had a bad day or ask him to stop.

He’s also amazing at helping you relax after a long day. He’s drawing you a relaxing bath, adding some decorations (if the Vatican didn’t want him using those exorcism candles and salt for baths, why did they work so well for just that?) and cooking your favourite meal. It’s really the least he can do.

Yuri is a very caring partner. She was able to show kindness to Satan, even after everything he did so she’s certainly capable of caring deeply about someone so close to her.

She loves spending quality time with you. It doesn’t matter what you’re doing, as long as you’re able to sit together.

As part of this, she loves twining one leg around yours while you’re sitting together if that’s something you’re comfortable with.

She didn’t have the best childhood, so she does sometimes have doubts about your relationship. Just give her some words of reassurance (or acts of affection if words aren’t your thing) and she’ll be feeling better in no time.

Yuri would love it if you’re interested in exorcism. She’s got a lot she wants so talk about, especially regarding demons not being as bad as everyone makes them out to be, so please let her ramble about her thoughts.

Mephisto is an interesting case. If you’re in a relationship, that means you’ve caught his attention. And that means he’s going to protect you with all of his demonic powers.

However, sometimes he can seem as though he’s only with you because he sees you as a curiosity.

If this ever gets too much or you’re doubting the sincerity of your relationship, just tell him and he’ll set aside his piles of paperwork to talk to you about his behaviour.

He loves entertaining you with his magic, as well as going on fun dates. Mephy Land is always a hit and, since he owns the place, you’ll never have to pay for any of the food or rides.

He’s surprisingly attentive when you’re talking about your day. He wants to learn more about humans and their behaviours and what better way than to study the person he cares about most.

#writing #fanfic #headcanons #headcanon request #request #blue exorcist #blue exorcist x reader #juzo shima #juzo shima x reader #satan #satan x reader #shiro fujimoto #shiro fujimoto x reader #mephisto pheles #mephisto pheles x reader

[celiciaa]

GILBERT VON OBSIDIAN EVENT STORY....

CHAPTER ONE.

A beast’s dream fulfilled by beauty.

translations are not 100% accurate. expect mistakes.

spoilers from gilbert's route.

minors and ageless blogs dni.

Recently, I had a big and serious problem.

Emma: Lord Gilbert, I haven't baked cookies in a while, how do you like it?

Emma: Oh, by the way, I changed the flavors this time so that you won't get bored even if you eat a lot!

Emma: From flavored with cocoa and almonds to those that have been woven with dried meat….

Emma: I hope there is something that suits Lord Gilbert’s taste.

Just looking at the stacks of cookies on his desk gives me a sense of accomplishment.

I was confident because I had been working so hard in the kitchen since morning.

However, Lord Gilbert, who is still sitting on his bed, refused to move.

Emma:….Um…..

Gilbert: Gil.

Emma:…..

Gilbert: You promised you would call me by that name, yes?

(….I can’t get used to it.) // (….It's hard to get used to it.)

━━FLASHBACK━━

Emma:…….Gil.

Gilbert:….!

Emma: Ah...I've heard before that you want me to call you by your nickname……

Emma: I want to get to know Lord Gilbert better. So, at least when it's just the two of us——

━━FLASHBACK ENDS━━

We promised to call each other by nicknames when we held our engagement ceremony, but, // I promised to call him by his nickname when we had our engagement ceremony,

Even now, I wasn’t being careful when I called him "Lord".

Of course, Lord Gilbert would not allow that.

Gilbert: I'll let you off the hook for the cookies today, but don't forget, okay?

Lord Gilbert finally got up from the bed and put his hand on my shoulder.

Gilbert: Even if the world is destroyed, you have to carry out what you once said to the end….am I clear?

(Are you really going to take it that far!?) // (Did you really just say that!?)

Emma:….I understand, Gil.

Taking a deep breath as I nodded, and Lord Gilbert smiled satisfactorily and reached out for the cookie.

(I better get used to it….for Lord Gilbert's sake and for world peace.)

Gilbert: Hmm….this dried meat cookie is delicious.

Emma: Ah, I guess you really like that kind of thing.

Emma: I once saw you eating dried meat between official duties….

Gilbert: Wow, you were watching me pretty closely, didn’t you?

As if to reward me, Lord Gilbert pushed a cookie into my mouth.

Reflexively, I took a bite, and the cookie that didn't fit in my mouth was snapped off by Lord Gilbert.

(…..This man is always, always——)

Gilbert: I'm not a picky eater, but I'm familiar with the portable rations distributed by the military.

Lord Gilbert laughs as if nothing happened.

Gilbert: On the battlefield, I only eat that kind of food, so I grew accustomed to it.

Emma: Then, I'd like to try to incorporate those ingredients in the future.

Gilbert: Hehe, it's for love, isn't it?

(He seems to be in a very good mood.)

(But just one more push….)

Emma: Gil, I'm very proud of these cookies too.

I took an almond cookie and held it in front of Lord Gilbert’s mouth.

The sight of him eating obediently seemed to indicate a "good opportunity".

(Maybe it could work now.)

Gilbert: So, what do you want from me?

Emma: Huh?

Gilbert: Hey, I'm looking at you just like you are looking at me as well, right?

Gilbert: Look, I will consider your request very positively….okay?

(As expected of Lord Gilbert, he seems to have seen it all.)

Emma: Are you sure? No matter what I say, you won't get angry?

Gilbert: Hehe, of course.

Emma: In that case——

With determination, I turned to face Lord Gilbert.

Emma: I...would like to have a friend.

Gilbert: Heh? You're so eager to line your head in front of the castle.

(His smile has vanished….!)

Emma: Oh, you said you wouldn't get angry. // Oh, didn't I tell you not to get angry?

Gilbert: But I'm not mad?

Gilbert: I just thought I was making you feel lonely enough to make you say that.

Lord Gilbert hugs me as if he feels sorry for me.

(….You know it's not true.)

My fiancé is annoyingly jealous of everything and everyone.

Jealousy was directed not only at men, but also at women, and more recently, even when reading books.

And Lord Gilbert's jealousy is no joking matter.

There is no way to hand it out so that I can never get involved with him again,

Thanks to this, I have almost no one to talk to in Obsidian except Lord Gilbert.

(But I can't stay isolated forever.)

Since I have decided to live in Obsidian, it is important for me to be involved with people other than Lord Gilbert.

Above all, I want to interact with many people and broaden my knowledge.

(I know that interacting with men is a big no-no, so...)

Emma: I love spending time with Gil. But there are some things we can only talk about as women. // I love spending time with Gil. But there are some things that only women can talk about.

Gilbert: Like what?

Emma:….L-Like a love story or something?

Gilbert: You could do that with me.

Emma: There are things I can't talk to you about.

Gilbert: Hmm? Oh, well.

Gilbert: If you want a friend so badly, fine. Why don't you make one?

Emma: Are you sure?

(The way he gets jealous so easily.)

Gilbert: Didn't I say that I would consider your request positively?

Gilbert: However, there are many dirty people in Obsidian.

Gilbert: I'll pick a friend candidate for you, so is that okay?

Emma: Yes! Thank you very much, Gil.

(I thought you'd say absolutely not, but I guess I'll have to ask.)

Gilbert: Here, little rabbit. Pick one of them.

The next day, Lord Gilbert promptly listed the potential friends.

All of them are of the same gender, and all of them are so lovely that it's soothing just by looking at them.

Gilbert: Let me give you a brief introduction. First of all, entry number 1, Adele.

Gilbert: She is a lively tomboy who loves walking outside. She also likes to bathe because she likes to keep herself clean.

Adele: Woof!

Gilbert: Entry number 2, Elise.

Gilbert: She's quiet and gentle, but she's brave enough to bite anyone she doesn't like.

Elise: Meow…..

Gilbert: And entry number 3——

Emma:…Wait a minute, Gil.

Gilbert: Did I talk too fast?

Emma: No, not that…..

(Why…..)

(Why aren't there any humans here!?)

 ▸       [  next ]

#ikemen prince #ikepri #ikemen prince spoilers #ikepri jp #ikepri translations #ikemen series #cybird #gilbert von obsidian #ikepri gilbert

[callsignthirsty]

Stuck in the Middle — Chapter 3 — Both

Co-written with a friend who isn't on tumblr. Pairing: Ron “Slider” Kerner x Reader x Tom “Iceman” Kazansky Summary: The one where Maverick’s sister is on a mission to give her brother a heart attack by sleeping with not one, but two of his colleagues. Word Count: 6400 Warnings: Smut, dirty talk, threesome, creampie(s) Chapter: 3/3 Read Previous Minors DNI

Pete returned home some hours later to find you in a very… festive scarf. Unfortunately for Goose, who had opted to stay with you until Pete arrived, it had done little to hide the hickeys littering your neck. That had been an interesting night.

Little did any of you know that hickeys, unseasonal scarves, and the Iceman would be the least of your worries in the coming days.

A hop gone wrong had you and Carole scrambling to get to the hospital.

They were alive, but it had been a close thing.

Pete was released that same day after a thorough evaluation. Goose was still unconscious. As tears leaked from his eyes, you knew that your brother was blaming himself, but there was little he could’ve done to avoid flying through Ice’s jetwash — Viper had stopped by the hospital to say as much.

You spent one, then two days in the hospital. Classes continued — fly long enough and it happens, they said, but Pete wasn’t ready to go up again. Not without Goose. And on the third day, like a miracle, Goose’s eyes blinked open. “Holy shit.” His voice was scratchy from disuse.

Carole sat upright at his side. “Nick?”

“Mav, where’s my camera?” Goose croaked, ignoring his wife. “There’s an angel by my bed. The guys ‘ll never believe it if I don’t take a picture.” When a nurse entered the room, relieved tears were tracking down a laughing Carole’s face, Bradley smiling in his Uncle Mav’s arms.

On the fourth day, Goose encouraged Pete to return to class because “You can’t let Ice and that big oaf run away with our trophy. They’ll never let us live it down.” Pete had reluctantly agreed when Goose gave his hand a reassuring squeeze. “Don’t worry, honey. You’ll do great.”

Pete smiled. “Thanks, dear.”

So the summer continued: hot days spent on the tarmac and by Goose’s side. And then, graduation was just a day away. Goose, unfortunately, wouldn’t be able to attend, but he had enough points to graduate, and Pete planned on going for both of them. You, Pete knew, would be in the audience, and there lay his current predicament:

Iceman.

Well, more accurately: Slider. After he’d returned home from his date with Charlie, Pete got an eyeful of hickeys and Goose’s side of the story. Namely, everything had been fine until Kerner opened his big mouth and burrowed beneath Goose’s skin so that Ice could steal you away.

If Pete had any hopes of keeping you and Ice separated after the commencement ceremony, he needed Slider.

* * *

Classes wrap and Slider is cleaning out his locker when he becomes acutely aware that he's one of two people left in the room. And even though Mitchell's back is to him, years of training and locker room antics mean that Slider knows when he's being watched. But the silence grows long and goes stale to the point that he's almost convinced that Maverick isn't going to say anything — which is a surprise because Maverick always has something to say.

"Kerner."

There it is.

"Mitchell."

"Congrats on the trophy." It must be killing Maverick to say it, and Slider smiles because, yeah, the trophy is his. It feels fucking good. But that's not what Maverick stuck around to say. It isn’t what he’s after.

Slider doesn’t want to drag this out longer than it has to be, so he gets to the point. "What do you want?"

The question hangs while Maverick takes a second to think before speaking — and isn’t that a scary thought? — when he finally spits out: “I have a proposition for you.”

"I don't swing that way."

"What? No." And Maverick spins to shoot Slider a dirty look. "I want your help keeping Ice away from my sister. At graduation."

"Why me?" The million-dollar question, though Maverick doesn't realize it.

"If you're helping me, you aren't helping him," Maverick says like it should be obvious. And, okay, yeah, that’s fair.

"What makes you so sure I'll help you?" Slider can’t tamp down the Cheshire grin at the way Maverick squirms. But besides being his pilot, Ice is his friend, and… well, they aren’t putting labels on whatever this thing is with Mitchell’s sister. "Besides, I think he's earned a little celebration." Hadn't they both? From the look on Maverick’s face, Slider would say his answer is ‘no.’

"I can pay you."

“No, you can’t.” Because even if Mav did have money, which Slider’s sure he doesn’t, his price would be too high. The trophy and a fuck? Pete Mitchell would have to be the richest man alive.

“I heard the guys say you got yourself a girl.” It’s a reach at best, but it shocks Slider into silence. Briefly, he wonders if someone had, in fact, seen the two of you in or on his car. But if that were the case, he doubts Maverick would be talking with him now. “She coming to the ceremony?” Maverick tries as Slider collects himself, trying to come off cool and collected like Ice always manages to.

“She hasn’t decided yet.” A lie. You’ll be there. You wouldn’t miss it for the world. Hadn’t let Maverick and Goose come to Fightertown without you in the first place.

Maverick smiles as if he’s got an idea. An in. “If you help me out,” he says, “you can borrow my bike.”

“Why would I—”

“Ladies love it,” Maverick insists, and Slider ignores him in favor of clearing out his locker. “Even you’d look good on a bike, Kerner,” Maverick tries again. “Everyone does.”

“Hey.”

“Think about it,” Maverick’s voice drops as he sets the scene. “She’s clinging to you as you speed down the road. Wind in your hair. Her arms wrapped around your waist. Tight body pressed all up against your back. And the adrenaline rush—” Mav’s eyebrows raise as if he’s remembering something fondly or really trying to sell the idea “—makes for amazing sex.”

Slider can’t help the smug grin that overtakes him — ice-cold, no mistakes was never his schtick. “Is that right?”

Mav’s smiling too, his head nodding lightly like they’re on the same wavelength. And maybe they are because Slider’s thinking about it. “Mind-blowing.”

Well, if Mav insists. “Alright.”

“So you’ll do it?” Maverick seems almost surprised that it’s worked. Like he hadn’t imagined Slider was, in fact, a man who could be reasoned with.

“Yeah,” Slider confirms, zipping up his bag and knocking his locker shut one last time. “Don’t make me regret this.” He wouldn’t.

* * *

“Gentlemen,” Viper says from the podium with a proud smile. “You came here the best of the best. We made you better.” You sit near the front of the audience, smiling and clapping with everyone else as the speeches finish, and the Top Gun trophy is presented to Lt. Tom “Iceman” Kazansky and Lt. Ron “Slider” Kerner. The new nameplate shines brighter than the others, but maybe you’re biased.

As soon as you can, you’re up from your seat. You go to Pete first; give him a hug and a heartfelt congratulations. Then, when he’s distracted by another graduate asking after Goose, you slip away. You’ve successfully snuck up on Ice’s six and are seconds from giving him a congratulatory kiss when Slider moves to intercept. Time freezes for a moment, and you’re worried that Slider intends to kiss you in front of this crowd — Top Gun trophy still in the hands of the man most of his class knows you to be with. When the moment passes, however, that worry twists into deep-seated confusion.

Ice frowns. “What gives?” Because he’s never known Slider to be a cock-block.

“I’ve got orders.”

“From?” And you can see Pete smirking into his drink as Ice all but demands an answer.

“Mitchell.” You and Ice look at Slider as if he’s grown a second head. “With Mother Goose still in the hospital, he needed some help keeping the Iceman away from his baby sister.”

“And you accepted?” Ice’s jaw clenches.

“Deal’s a deal.” Ice scowls, the look wholly out of place considering the trophy still in his grasp.

“What did he offer you?” you can’t help but ask.

“Not important.” Somehow you doubt that.

The rest of the graduation party is… well, not what you’d expected or hoped for. For one, you’re still there. Every time you try to get close to Ice, either Slider or Pete gets in your way. And this is worse than Pete and Goose because Slider is intimately aware of all your evasion maneuvers — he’d helped you come up with a good number of them.

You’re positive you’re going to scream when Viper swoops in with actual orders. Jester hands envelopes to Ice, Slider, Hollywood, and Wolfman. And Pete.

Before anyone can stop you, you wrap Ice in a hug. You throw your arms around Slider next, then Pete, who can’t be mad when you’re squeezing him like this might be the last time you get to. The “be safe” you whisper into his ear means more after Goose’s accident, but you don’t have time to talk about it before they’re all whisked away.

* * *

Maverick doesn’t want to give Slider his bike when they return to Fightertown. Says he’d barely had to work for it since they’d left the graduation party early.

“A deal’s a deal, Mav,” Slider says, but it’s gentler than it would’ve been a week ago. Mav and Ice are wingmen now, so Slider’s trying to be nice. Not too nice. Not I’ll-stop-fucking-your-sister nice — and Slider supposes that’s the one that counts the most — but nice-nice.

It’s a start.

You’d received no fewer than three phone calls, so you’re not surprised to hear the motorcycle roll up to the curb. What does surprise you is Slider at your door with Pete’s keys in his hand.

“Come on,” he says as he gathers you in his arms until you can feel the solid ba-dum of his heart on your cheek. “We’re going for a ride.”

It feels strange climbing onto Pete’s Kawasaki behind Slider, but as the engine roars to life and you wrap your arms around his middle, you’re confident you’ll enjoy it while it lasts.

Slider pulls over at a roadside diner. Ice is already inside, fingers drumming against a table in the corner and Academy ring glinting in the sun when Slider holds the door open for you. He beams when he sees you and makes room beside him at the booth. It seems only fitting to sit beside him since you’d been clinging to Slider moments ago.

The three of you catch up over food and a shared milkshake. Ice and Slider tell you what they can about the mission: the tight bunks, the awful food, the budding friendship with your brother. In exchange, you give them the latest on Goose’s progress in physical therapy. It’ll be a long road to recovery, but if anyone can do it, you know it’s Goose.

When you’re ready to leave, Slider wants to take you out for a spin — after all, he’s been assured that the ladies dig a man on a bike, and he wants to test that theory.

Slider would rather swallow glass or wait in line at the DMV than admit it out loud, but Mav’s right. The warm press of you along his back, small hands clutching at his waist as the engine hums between your thighs, is something else. Ice isn’t thrilled to see him climb onto the bike with you, both sans helmet, and insists on trailing behind the bike in case something goes wrong. It won’t, but whatever makes Ice feel better, Slider supposes.

And although his tailing had started as a protective compulsion, Ice quite likes the way you look wrapped around Slider — your hair a wind-tousled mess and jacket snapping in the wind.

It’s purely coincidence when you spot Charlie’s Porsche at a stoplight; its top down and a familiar head of cropped black-brown hair behind the wheel. At first, Pete offers Slider a cheeky grin, a friendly wave, and then — out of curiosity, you’re sure — his eyes slide to the back of his bike. You can’t bring yourself to hide your face, frozen when Pete’s eyes lock on you and almost bug out of his head, his smile dropping and face ashen with sudden realization. Slider’s laughter reverberates through your chest. The light chooses that moment to turn green, and Slider takes off.

Over your shoulder, Ice honks when Pete refuses to move, a smug smile on his lips as he zips after you.

When you return to Ice and Slider’s place, you rest your cheek in the space between Slider’s shoulder blades, your own shoulders shaking as your mirth bubbles over, and soon you’re shaking from the rush of it all.

Cat’s definitely out of the bag now.

Once the door is open, Slider gets to work. By the time Ice walks in, Slider already has your back against the wall, lips taking yours in a bruising kiss as adrenaline courses through your veins. His big hands slide beneath your shirt to cup you over your bra. Damn Mav, but he’s right. And, as your fingers catch in his shirt-back and pull him closer, Slider has zero intentions of letting you go anytime soon. Not when he’s got you exactly where he wants you. Definitely not when each slide of his tongue over yours teases cute noises from the back of your throat.

Ice must be thinking something similar because he’s quick to join you. His fingers find yours tangled in Slider’s shirt to help you lift it until the RIO has to break your kiss to take the offending garment off. It’s a mistake that Ice takes full advantage of, stealing your lips in a kiss of his own.

Hands resting on your hips, Ice guides you around until he’s the one leaning against the wall. He’d wrap an arm around your waist to tug you closer, but Slider is already plastering himself to your back, so Ice settles for a deep kiss and revels in the wanton noise it earns him.

Without the sweet distraction of a kiss, Slider works your jacket down your arms and into a heap on the floor. He takes your hands in his and leads one into his hair; the other he guides down until it’s slipping under the loose hem of Ice’s shirt. Ice jolts at the skin-to-skin contact and your answering moan gets lost between the slick slide of lips and tongues. Your teeth clack against Ice’s when Slider presses his hips into yours with a sinful grind that drags his cock against the swell of your ass as he finally sucks a mark into your neck — consequences be damned. But instead of pulling him away, the hand in Slider’s hair encourages him. You tilt your head to the side and re-slot your lips against Ice’s while giving Slider more room to work a deep bruise into smooth skin.

One of Ice’s hands cradles the back of your head, his lips working insistently against yours as your hand trails fire over his abs and up to his chest. Perfect teeth catch on your bottom lip and you break apart panting, but then Ice pulls you back for more greedy kisses. His other hand grabs one of your belt loops and uses it to pull your hips away from Slider’s so they’re flush with his own.

While Ice keeps your mouth occupied, Slider’s hands return to the thin material of your bra. He’s growing more impatient with each of your whimpers, the steady roll of Ice’s hips pushing your ass back against his erection which, to Slider’s exasperation, is still trapped uncomfortably beneath the rough denim of his pants. With a barely-there nip that erupts goosebumps across your shoulders, Slider rucks your shirt up until it’s bunched beneath your arm, but Ice refuses to stop kissing you — whether because he’s a greedy bastard or because he’s skeptical that Slider will steal your lips away the way Ice had was anyone’s guess.

The sharp rip of tearing fabric wrenches your lips from Ice faster than anything else Slider could’ve thought up, your nipples pebbling as cold air assaults your heated skin. “Hey!” you scold as the fabric falls limp to the floor.

“I’ll buy you a new one,” Slider promises as he unhooks your bra with deft fingers and grabs your chin to pull you in, licking at your lips before taking them in another harsh kiss. You let yourself be turned from Ice to chase the feeling of Slider’s lips claiming yours. Behind you, Ice flings your bra to the side and hastily removes his own shirt.

Slider may be driving, what with the way he has both you and Ice trapped against the wall, but Ice is far from passive. The two join forces in an all-out assault on you from both sides. Hands bumping as they knead and tease and take you apart piece by delicious piece. Teeth scraping against your collarbone. Your nipples pebbling between calloused fingers. Chests heaving. Lips smacking. The sweet friction of denim dragging over denim as you all move together. Sighs, growls, and groans lost between teeth and tongues. The mixing taste of them on your tongue as they push and pull, give and take.

You shiver, moaning into Ice’s mouth as he plays with your tits. Not to be ignored, Slider shoves a hand down the front of your jeans, two fingers working deep into your dripping cunt. Then Slider’s fingers are gone, and before you can say something in protest, you squeal as he throws you over his shoulder. “Ron!” you giggle, another excited shout leaving you as one of Slider’s hands lands playfully on your ass and he turns to bite at your hip just above the line of your jeans as he moves the party to the bedroom.

Slider throws you onto the bed, and you bounce before settling tousled among the pillows. Your thighs fall open in a wanton display, and you crook a finger to reel Slider in until he’s licking a path from your open zipper and up to nibble at your jaw until he’s stretched over you. You moan at how he fits so snugly between your legs and his chest rubs against your own.

“How do you want to do this?” Ice asks, leaning against the doorframe, his arms flexing none-too-subtly when your eyes find him over Slider’s shoulder. He’s a sight to behold — cheeks a slight, breathless pink, arms crossed beneath his chest, belt buckle weighing down the open flap of his pants to reveal more smooth skin and the tented white of his briefs. You lose sight of him when Slider turns his head.

“You can take her mouth since you’ve been hogging it all night.” Slider kisses your cheek, his dark eyes on your as he crawls back down your body. “I’ve been thinking about this pussy for days.”

Ice crosses the room with unhurried steps, long fingers caressing your jaw. “Is that what you want?” he asks, thumb tracing your full bottom lip while Slider mouths at your hip bones. The RIO’s hands slowly pull your jeans and panties down to savor the moment. You bite your lip, briefly catching Ice’s thumb before he pulls it back. A flush of heat travels through you as Slider’s eyes meet your own and he presses a final kiss to your hip bones before he ventures lower.

When you nod, Ice pulls his cock free, eyes never leaving yours as he pumps himself lazily and kicks the rest of his clothes all the way off. Opposite him, Slider grips your leg behind the knee and raises it, revealing the diamond of your cunt. You keen, fingers threading through Slider’s hair and hips jerking as his tongue drags over your core. Lightly stubbled cheeks rub against your sensitive thighs and set them aflame as Slider’s eyes blow wide, his breath fanning over your clit before he gets to work.

Not to be forgotten, Ice’s fingers return to your jaw, light but with enough pressure to turn you back to him. His cock hangs heavy between his thighs as the bed dips to accommodate him. As he rubs the head across the seam of your lips, Slider pushes his tongue against your slick folds with a groan. You’re buzzing, jaw falling open with a sweet noise, and Ice gives into the temptation to tap his cock to your tongue before pulling back and smearing saliva and precum across your cheek.

Unprompted, you take the tip between your lips, tonguing at the slit to savor Ice’s taste before trying to work more of him into your mouth. Slider watches from between your thighs as Ice lets out a low groan, his hand falling into your hair as you work his cock in and out of your mouth. All the while, Slider’s tongue continues to fuck into you, a finger coming to rub spit and arousal into your clit until you’re trembling, hips seeking out the slick press. Slider slips a finger into you alongside his tongue, reveling in the way that Ice’s cock slips from between your lips as you unabashedly moan, thoroughly distracted from your current task.

Distantly, Slider thinks that the real surprise isn’t that Hollywood and Wolf had heard you; it’s that it took them so long.

Ice brings one of your hands up to fist around his cock, his eyes glued to Slider as he continues to wring more wanton cries from you.

Slider smacks his lips. “She tastes good.”

“Yeah?” Ice’s Adam’s apple bobs.

Slider takes another lick that’s purely for show, his chin covered in your juices. “Sweetest pussy there ever was.” Ice groans as he imagines it, cock twitching as he thrusts into your fist, and Slider ducks down to suck on your clit before he asks: “Want a taste?”

“Fuck yes.”

Slider stands back and practically rips his pants off while Ice takes his place between your thighs. Ice throws your legs over his shoulders before diving in and drinking his fill. He groans as the tang of your sex explodes across his tongue, your heels digging into his back. Slurps at your dripping cunt with a fervor that makes your back arch off the bed.

“Please,” you cry.

“What do you want, sweetheart,” Slider asks, suddenly at your side and taking one of your nipples into his hot mouth.

You whine, arching up into Slider and down against Ice’s face. “Fuck me. Please.”

“Well, when you ask so pretty.”

“Don’t worry, baby,” Ice soothes. He scrambles up, already running the leaking tip of his cock through your spit-slick folds. “I’ll fuck you real good.”

Slider raises a brow. “Why do you get to fuck her first?”

“Because I’m here.”

For a moment, you’re worried they’re going to break into rock, paper, scissors. Slider looks ready to get up and do something about Ice taking advantage of his generosity — he’d said Ice could have your mouth, dammit. But before he does, or you can whine for someone to hurry up and fuck you already, Ice’s hand settles on the curve of your waist, and he pushes in. You groan. Slider drops back against the bed and rolls his eyes. He shouldn’t be surprised; Ice always gets what he wants.

As the jut of Ice’s hips settle against you, Slider takes your lips in another kiss, his hands kneading at your tits. It isn’t his first choice, but Slider can be content with this — swallowing your needy moans, tracing the outline of your lips with his tongue. Making up for the time he’s lost with your mouth to Ice’s greed.

Each rock of Ice’s hips causes your tits to jump the slightest bit within Slider’s large palms and against his tongue as he sucks on a perky bud and applies gentle pressure with his teeth. Before his lips find yours again, his hand trails up your chest and applies gentle pressure to your neck. You shiver, arching into the touch. Slider loves the dazed expression, the slack ‘o’ of your spit-glazed lips when you wear his hand like a necklace, and your eyes brim with rampant desire. He dives in to leave a mark just below your jaw, reveling in the way that you dig your nails into his hair and the way your head is thrown back, and the way you must be clenching around Ice from the strained “fuck” he hears coming from the foot of the bed.

Slider lets out his own punched-out “fuck” when your hand wraps around his cock and strokes. It’s uncoordinated with the way Ice is trying to take you apart and awkward due to the angle, but that’s more than fine. Slider needs something to take the edge off, and your touch is just that. He doesn’t want to finish in your hand. Not tonight.

You bring your lips to Slider’s and let him take the lead while Ice turns his attention to your legs. He lifts one up to his shoulder, and you hum into your kiss at the stretch. Progressively sloppier kisses are pressed from your ankle up your calf. Ice’s new angle has him sinking deeper into you, but he keeps his thrusts slow, the cadence so different from the one you’d had on the beach, but one that — if kept up — he knows will have your legs shaking, back arching, nails scratching. Especially if he keeps hitting that spot.

As it is, your cunt is clenching around him with each forward shove of his hips into yours. Squeezing around him as if to keep him inside of you. Milking him.

With a curse, Ice pulls out, and you break from Slider to whine at the sudden empty feeling. Ice gropes at your hip and offers it a pat before he’s encouraging you to roll over. As you move to accommodate the change in position, Slider grabs you, and you yelp as he manhandles you onto your knees.

“Hey,” Ice says.

Slider just turns you so you’re facing Ice and enters you with a harsh snap of his hips. “My turn.” You want to chastise them, tell them to play nice, but all that comes out is a pathetic mewl. Slider’s smile is haughty. “Still so tight even after Ice fucked you,” he groans as your walls suck him in. Your jaw falls slack, and a pleasured noise tumbles free into the night. When Slider has you screaming, one of his hands fists in your hair. “Come on,” he growls. “Open that pretty little mouth for Ice.” And you do, tongue lolling out over your bottom lip as you look up from beneath thick lashes.

Every time Slider’s hips crash into yours, you’re pushed further down Ice’s cock. Your taste is heavy on his skin, an intoxicating mixture of tang and his musk. Sweet. Salty. You suck more vigorously, hollowing your cheeks as your head swims. When Ice’s hips jerk forward and his cock tickles the back of your throat, you moan long and low. The vibration pulls a shiver from Ice, his fingers whispering across your flushed cheeks and attempting to card through your hair where Slider has it pulled tight.

When Slider nails your sweet spot, you pull off of Ice. “Ah, fuck!”

“That’s right, sweetheart,” Slider preens, releasing your hair to smack your ass. “Want you to let everyone know who’s making you feel this good.” He holds your hips still and grinds torturously into you when you don’t comply.

“God, Ron,” you gasp. “Don’t stop!”

“That’s it, baby,” Slider says. You bite your lip self-consciously, wanting to keep your pleasure from the ears of any passersby.

Ice thumbs your lip free of your teeth. Rubs over the indents left behind until you let out another pathetic whine. “Don’t hold back,” he murmurs. “It’s okay. We want to hear you. Everyone already knows.”

Slider’s hips slam forward. “Now let them all know how good you feel.”

Ice catches you as your arms give out and lifts you up until you’re clutching his shoulders. You kiss him desperately as Slider picks up the pace, the clap of skin on skin filling the bedroom. Slider buries himself in your neck to leave another bruise as you cling to Ice. Your kisses are less lips and more teeth and tongues now, but you couldn’t care less. Ice’s palms caress your sides while Slider’s hands anchor themselves on your hips to pull you back against him with each increasingly desperate thrust. The kisses Ice gives you do little to shut you up at this point, to neither man’s disappointment. You’re stuck between them. Nowhere to go. Nowhere to hide. Nowhere you’d rather be when Ice’s hand leaves your side to play with your clit, delicately circles it as Slider continues to hammer into you.

In the end, that’s what does you in, your head thrown back against Slider’s shoulder as both men work together to take you apart.

Distantly, you’re aware of Slider’s grip tightening enough to bruise, the stutter of his hips, and the garbled curses as he presses tight between your quivering thighs and cums.

Gentle fingers turn your head to the side, and Slider captures your lips in a kiss. Simple. Passionate. His tongue rolls over yours as his hands smooth over your hip bones and down your thighs. He shakes as he soaks in the closeness, your highs still crashing through you.

He pulls you with him as he half lays back against the headboard, cum dribbling from your cunt as his spent cock slips free. You melt back against his broad chest and hum as you settle against him. Slider feels warm, and you still tingle everywhere he touches you.

The bed dips as Ice crawls forward until he’s knelt between your knees, his hands planted against the duvet on either side of Slider’s thighs. “You still up for round two?” Your pussy pulses at the thought, more of Slider’s cum trailing down the crack of your ass. Ice gathers the cum on his middle and ring finger and pushes it back into you with a wet squelch. You can’t help but clench around his long fingers, back arching when one of Slider’s hands presses flat against your lower abdomen and encourages more of his pearly essence to leak out around Ice’s fingers, both of them entranced by the sight.

“Words, baby,” Slider whispers breathless and sated against your ear. “You need him to fuck you?” Ice closes his eyes and groans, his cock twitching red and heavy where it leaks against your thigh. “Need Ice to fill up that pretty pussy?”

“She’s already so full.”

“I can take it.” Your legs circle Ice’s trim waist and drag him closer still. You feel hot as you imagine him spilling within you. Being so full of Ice and Slider both that you can’t possibly keep it all inside. “I want it.”

That’s all that Ice needs to hear. He wastes no time sinking into you right up to the hilt with a sinful groan. Trembles when you cry out, soft and exquisite, your eyes already blissed out but your cunt still so wet and needy, gripping him tight as if you were the one who hadn’t cum mere minutes ago.

Each rock drives you into Slider’s chest. Not to be left out, the RIO’s arms lazily snake around to cup your breasts and tweak your nipples, his lips subdued but no less sizzling as they skim over the marks he left on you earlier.

Ice leans close, his glacial eyes dark and blown wide, lids at half-mast. He catches your bottom lip between his teeth and worries at it until you gasp, releasing it with a slick pop. “Tom.” It’s not a scream like earlier, more a frantic, heady pant, your voice rough as it washes over Ice in all the right ways. It tingles low in his spine and raises goosebumps along his arms until his shoulders bunch with the feeling.

You arch up, away from Slider’s chest but into fingers clamped over your nipples as Ice’s rhythm falters. The wet clapping of your sex is loud between your ears compared to the heavy sighs and the continuous squeak of old bed springs.

Ice gulps. “You’re so sensitive.” It’s true. Every touch feels like fire. Like straight electricity. Like pleasedon’tletgodon’tstop! and Ice’s dentist won’t be pleased with how he’s clenching his jaw. Drawing in ragged breaths and grinding his teeth to make this last even the slightest bit longer. But you’re right there with him.

Slider’s calloused fingers tap against your clit, and you’re gone. A silent scream passes your lips as you pull tight like a bow and release, and Ice snaps with you.

The three of you lie together in a pile of sweaty limbs. Cum and arousal leak thickly down your thigh and onto the bed. Despite the mess, none of you are willing to move. This is the most comfortable you’ve been in weeks. Floating somewhere high above the bed. Ice is your blanket, and Slider your pillow. At least for a couple blissful minutes.

“Alright,” Slider says, nudging none too gently at Ice’s shoulder, “get off. You’re heavy.”

Instead of telling Slider to go fuck himself, Ice rolls his shoulders and peels himself off of you. He marvels at the mess they’ve made between your legs, then moves to get off the bed and start the shower.

The shower, it turns out, is a waste.

You don’t get much sleep that night.

* * *

After breakfast, Ice helps you into his car and drives you to the hospital while Slider wheels Pete’s bike to his housing assignment just a couple doors down. Ice pulls the car to a smooth stop right in front of the visitor’s entrance. He gives you a sweet kiss on the lips, then leans up to place one on your forehead. You breathe him in — spearmint, sunscreen, aftershave.

“Will we see you tonight?” You shrug, resting your forehead against Ice’s shoulder as his hand gently massages the back of your neck. “I’m just a call away if you need me to pick you up.”

“I know,” you say, giving Ice a quick peck before opening the car door and stepping out.

As you get closer to your destination, you become increasingly aware that you’re wearing yesterday’s clothes and one of Slider’s definitely-too-big-for-you shirts. But that doesn’t stop you from slipping into Goose’s room with a knock.

“Look who decided to show up.” Pete’s arms are crossed over his chest, brows furrowed in his patent big brother scowl, but Carole is smiling where she sits at her husband’s bedside, Bradley sitting on his lap. When you don’t say anything, Pete continues: “You didn’t come home last night.”

Goose turns to you, wide-eyed and head bobbing, before falling back against his stacked pillows. They must have already given him his post-PT drugs. “Wait, where were you, then?” Pete glares at his best friend; it takes a minute for Goose's drug-addled mind to catch up. “Oh.” Goose covers Bradley’s ears, then loudly whispers to his wife, “She was having sex with The Iceman.”

“Thank you, Goose,” Pete bites in frustrated exasperation while Carole giggles.

“He wouldn’t have found out if she wore the scarf I bought her,” Goose insists before turning back to you. “Did you show Carole the scarf?” Back to his wife. “It’s a great scarf, hun.” Great was a relative term. He’d bought it from a 7-Eleven.

Carole nods, Goose dopily nodding along with her. “I bet it is.”

“Can we talk about literally anything else?” Pete asks, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“Eventually, you’ll have to accept that this is a thing, Pete,” you say. It comes out strong, but internally you’re a quivering mess. You love your brother, but you can’t live your life for him; you have to live it for yourself.

Pete sighs. “I know, it’s just… a lot.” And... yeah.

“I know,” you say. Because it is a lot, and that’s okay. It can be a lot. You just need him to be okay with it. Okay with you.

“It’s just…” Pete shakes his head. “Kerner? Really? Ice, I get, but Slider?” Your cheeks heat, but you refuse to look away even if you’re sure the floor looks incredibly interesting right about now.

“Oh my god,” Goose gasps. “Carole?”

“Yes, honey?”

“Did you know she was sleeping with Slider, too?”

Carole grins, shaking her head. “No.”

“Mav.”

Pete sighs. “What, Goose?”

“Did you know—”

“I’m the one who just told you.” You can’t help but smile at your brother’s displeasure.

“So when we were keeping her away from Ice… was she just off with Slider?”

Pete’s head whips from Goose to you, and this time you give into temptation and study the floor. “Well, we Mitchells aren’t exactly known for our good decisions, are we?” you mumble. Pete can’t help but laugh at that.

“No, we’re not.” And with that, some of the tension bleeds out of the room.

Until Goose bolts upright, almost knocking Bradley from his lap. “We’re at a hospital.” Everyone gives Goose a confused look. He’s known he’s been at the hospital since he woke up — had the doctors switched up his meds? But Goose is staring intently at you now. “Do you need to take a pregnancy test? The nurses gave me this button that I can push to bring them in and– Mav, you okay?”

Pete does not look okay. His face is ashen, eyes wide but unseeing as he slowly slides down the hospital wall.

“Goose, dear,” Carole says with a hand on her husband’s arm as she watches Pete with a careful eye, “you can press the button now.”

“Ahh yisss,” Goose slurs, hugging Bradley close and spamming the nurse-call button.

#top gun fanfiction #top gun smut #top gun 1986 #tom iceman kazansky x reader #ron slider kerner x reader #tom iceman kazansky smut #ron slider kerner smut #f!reader #iceman x reader #slider x reader #tom kazansky x reader #ron kerner x reader #tom iceman kazansky x reader smut #ron slider kerner x reader smut #iceman smut #slider smut #mitchell!reader #the one where mav finally figures it out #ron slider kerner x reader x tom iceman kazansky #iceman x reader x slider smut #slider x reader x iceman smut #tom iceman kazansky x reader x ron slider kerner #fic: stuck in the middle

[cannibalgenders]

I have a lot of thoughts about the way mental illness is treated by the Yellowjackets writers and the fandom, particularly when it comes to the vilification and/or deification of Lottie Matthews but I’m not schizophrenic and it’s not really my place to say what’s what when it comes to that but I DO want to talk about the other character who everyone seems to agree displayed mental illness before the events of the crash and that’s Misty Quigley

The first time we see Misty she’s watching a rat drown with something close to apathy, which is to me clear visual language of what they’re setting Misty up to be. See, there’s this disproved (but still commonly used within entertainment media) psychological theory called the Macdonald Triad, or sometimes the “triad of sociopathy”. It essentially claims that three behaviors displayed by children and teens can predict if they will develop ASPD in adulthood, or become violent criminals. The behaviors are bedwetting, firesetting, and cruelty to animals. The fact that we see Misty behaving cruelly towards animals in her FIRST scene is a clear statement of intention in regards to where her character is going

Now, all of the behaviors in the Macdonald triad are actually more closely linked with prolonged childhood abuse or neglect, which leads to the DEVELOPMENT of personality disorders in some cases, lighting fires or whatever doesn’t actually make you a “sociopath”.

And…Misty isn’t really, either. At least not at first. I personally could very easily see Misty as having ASPD (or conduct disorder, since she’s a minor), but in season 1 the writers seem like they’re putting a lot of effort into associating Misty with this sort of false Hollywood perception of a “sociopath” rather than people with an actual Cluster B personality disorder. And like, Misty displays an obvious lack of empathy and concern for others’ autonomy from the very beginning, but I really and truly wasn’t sold on Misty as a sympathetic portrayal or as representation until closer to the end of Season 2

And really is was Samantha Hanratty that sold me. Because there’s a BIG discrepancy in the way Samantha and the way Christina portrays Misty. 40 year old Misty is an adult set in her ways, she’s clinging to the people who made her feel useful 25 years ago but her old eagerness, her ability to be genuinely affected or hurt has been diminished a LOT. She’s got incredibly muted emotions, masks near constantly, and is willing to do just about anything to maintain her control over wildly out of hand situations.

Whereas Samantha’s young Misty is still in a place where she’s trying to reach out- something’s “wrong” with her, sure, but she genuinely believes that others still have the ability to appreciate her for her authentic self, and much of her manipulative behavior is in search of that validation. Yeah, she doesn’t know how to go about yeah, yeah she’s fucked up, but she’s sharing bits of herself with the expectation that this will get her what she wants, and she’s repeatedly being smacked down.

And then we see the loss of Crystal. The final loss that sort of cements for her that genuine display of emotion and authenticity is doomed to destroy her and everything she cares about. So she stops caring. She detaches. And that really hit me as the most accurate portrayal I’m going to get of what the inside of my head feels like. Her brain keeps her from feeling much in adulthood as protection, but it’s so fucking boring that she’s going through the motions of who she was before all that, playacting at the bubbly musical theater loving dork she could have been, just to try and get some of that excitement back.

And now I’m wondering, with clinging to those old connections having bitten her in the ass so thoroughly, is Misty going to drop the mask completely? Give up on every being anything to anyone? Go back to isolation and manipulation and violence? Or is there hope for her, like Natalie, to make a different choice this time?

#yellowjackets showtime #Yellowjackets #misty quigley #misty yellowjackets #natalie scatorccio #yellowjackets spoilers #yellowjackets season 2 #mistynat #crystal yellowjackets #ASPD

[sebastianstangirl01]

Close Call

Title: Close Call

Pairing: Bradley “Rooster” Bradshaw x Female Mitchell Reader and Pete “Maverick” Mitchell x Daughter Reader

Warning’s: bad description of flying, near death experience, blood, ptsd, language.

Summary: When a training exercise goes wrong leaving Y/N injured some not so great memories are resurfaced for her father and boyfriend.

Y/N’s call sign is “Rebel”

Authors Note: Some of the terms and information may not be accurate. I am not a pilot so I don’t know how everything works, I used Google to help write this. I hope you all enjoy this and there will be more of these types of one shots to come. Please make Top Gun and Top Gun Maverick requests!!!! I am really into both movies right now and have lots of motivation to write for them!!!

Flying is the most accelerating feeling for any pilot, having complete control over something so much bigger than themselves. The adrenaline rush is what every pilot craves.

But no one craves that rush more than Y/N Mitchell, she was known for her risky moves and confident tone. Definitely taking after her father Captain Pete Mitchell while her fathers call sign was Maverick which was self explanatory Y/N quickly followed in her fathers footsteps with the call sign Rebel.

Y/N quickly made a name for herself in the Navy showing people that she was more than just Mavericks daughter, one of the youngest pilots in history to graduate at the top of her class from Top Gun and the youngest Navy Fighter Pilot to get promoted to Lieutenant. It’s safe to say that Maverick was extremely proud of his daughter and so was her boyfriend.

Bradley Bradshaw, call sign Rooster with the strained relationship that her father and Rooster had because of Maverick pulling his papers to the academy it was a little rocky when they took the step and got together but both men knew that they would always have something in common and that was their love for Y/N Mitchell.

Being called back to Top Gun was a great experience and something that Y/N was a little nervous about, Rooster and her father were civil but it was obvious that their relationship was still very much strained and when she found out that he was going to be their instructor she was worried.

“Please tell me you’ll at least try to get along with my dad.” Y/N told Rooster one night as they laid in their shared bed, Y/N laying on Roosters bare chest as he rubbed circles up and down her back

Rooster sighed softly tilting his head to plant a kiss on the top of her head, inhaling the coconut scent that was her shampoo.

“I’ll try, only for you.” Rooster said and Y/N nodded taking what she could get tilting her head to place a kiss on his chest

“That’s all I ask. We better get some sleep, we have a long day tomorrow.” Y/N said and Rooster nodded

Tomorrow they were doing their first practice for the course they would be flying on their mission, Y/N helped her dad study the rough terrain they would have to navigate so he could build a accurate course to follow on the computer.

“I love you sugar.” Rooster said as he tightened his grip around her waist

“I love you too.” Y/N smiled leaning up to give him a goodnight kiss

──────── 🛫 ────────

Something had been bugging Y/N all morning as she got ready for her test flight, she had a bad feeling in the bottom of her gut. Like something was going to go wrong.

She had just gotten dressed in her flight gear and was standing at her locker looking at the pictures taped to the door. One had her dad and goose together she always loved hearing all the stories about those two.

There was another that had her, her dad, Rooster, Goose, and Carole they were all sitting together on a couch Goose was holding 4 year old Bradley with his arm around Carole and a big smile on his face and Maverick had 1 year old Y/N in his arms kissing her cheek as Y/N had a wide smile on her face showcasing her 2 front teeth. Y/N and Bradley were holding hands in that picture it was like they were meant to be.

There was another picture of Y/N and Maverick from her Top Gun graduation Y/N had jumped into her fathers arms wrapping her legs around his waist and arms around his neck as Maverick smiled and squeezed her waist tightly holding her up, they both had wide smiles on their faces.

The last picture was of Y/N and Bradley, she smiled as she ran her finger across it Y/N was being held bridal style in Bradley’s arms she was leaning back with a wide smile both arms stretched back and Bradley was looking down at her with bright eyes it looked like he was in the middle of a laugh.

Y/N shook her head and closed her locker, she needed to have a clear head. But no matter how much she tried she couldn’t shake the bad feeling. Y/N walked out of the locker room and out onto the runway.

“Hey, you ready?” Y/N’s RIO Ashton Burton call sign Ash asked as he walked up beside her.

“Born ready, I just wish our wingman wasn’t Hangman.” Y/N told him and Ash nodded in agreement

“Me too, but with you flying we’ll be just fine.” Ash said patting her shoulder before jogging ahead

“Y/N!” She heard behind her and turned around to see Bradly jogging towards her making her smile

“Hey.” Y/N smiled as he stopped in front of her and wrapped his arms around her waist

“Just wanted to wish you good luck. Watch your back out there.” Rooster said, it was no secret that he wasn’t Hangman’s biggest fan and with him being the one who is suppose to have Y/N’s back it made him worried

“I’ll be fine babe. I’ll see you after.” Y/N said reaching up to curl the ends of his mustache making him smile

“I love you.” Rooster said kissing the tip of her finger before bringing a hand up to her face, pulling them together letting their lips meet in a short but passionate kiss

“I love you too.” Y/N smiled before turning to walk away glancing over her shoulder to see Rooster still standing there with a small smile on his face as he put his sunglasses on

Y/N walked over to her plane and put her helmet on making sure it was secure before putting her aviators on that once belonged to her dad that he gave her as a gift when she graduated from Top Gun.

“Y/N, you read me?” Mavericks voice asked over the radio, he would be flying alongside them so he could supervise better and see what each pilot needed to work on

“Loud and clear dad.” Y/N answered

“Be safe and remember.” Maverick said before Y/N interrupted

“Don’t think just do.” Y/N finished his catch phrase

“That’s right. Hangman get ready for take off.” Maverick said as Y/N got into the plane and buckled in making sure that everything was in working order, which it was

“You feeling good?” Y/N asked Ash

“Feeling great, let’s do this.” Ash said as Y/N reached her hand back and they fist bumped like they always did before every flight

“Hangman ready for take off. Try and keep up Rebel.” Hangman teased over the radio

“I’ll do my best hangman.” Y/N replied sarcastically

“Hangman you are a go for take off.” Maverick said and Hangman immediately took off in front of Y/N. “Rebel, Ash. You are a go for take off.”

“Let’s blow this popsicle stand.” Y/N whooped before taking off souring into the sky. “Sure is a pretty day today, you enjoying the view Hangman?”

“I’m loving the view Rebel, how about you. My tail shiny enough for you?” Hangman asked

“It could use a little work.” Y/N said rolling her eyes

“Hangman you are approaching the check point, remember you must reach the target in 2:15. Rebel, Ash you’re right behind him.” Maverick spoke over comms

“Copy Maverick.” Hangman said before speeding up and passing the check point

“Here we go.” Y/N said before also speeding up, the force sending her back into her seat as she mimicked each move Hangman did.

She noticed that Hangman was going way faster than they were suppose to making Y/N struggle to keep control of the plane as she sped up to try to keep up with him.

“Hangman you’ve got to slow down. You’re going way too fast!” Y/N said over the comms

“What’s wrong Rebel? Can’t keep up?” Hangman asked

“I can keep up just fine jackass! But for this mission it is about more than just speed we have to hit each curve perfectly or we die. You’re going way faster than necessary.” Y/N said as she followed Hangman around a curve, suddenly the jet jerked causing Y/N’s eyes to widen as she tried to control it. “Fuck we flew right into Hangman’s jet wash.”

“Rebel talk to me what’s happening?” Maverick asked over the comms

“We’re caught up in the turbulence. It stalled one of the engines, we lost the left engine.” Y/N said as she extinguished the left engine leaving them with only the right as she tried to gain control of the plane.

“Right engine is down too.” Ash exclaimed making Y/N curse

“Fuck! Extinguishing the engine.” Y/N said putting the fire out and trying to restart the engine. “Both engines are out! We’ve lost both engines!”

“Rebel you’ve got to get the plane under control!” Ash said

“I’m trying damn it!” Y/N exclaimed as she jerked the joy stick, the plane started spinning out of control towards the ground. “Shit I can’t, we’re spinning out I can’t get control!”

“Eject now! You can’t save the plane! Y/N eject!” Maverick exclaimed over the comms as he tried to clear his own head, memories of the day Goose died seeping into his mind

“Eject!” Y/N exclaimed as she tried to reach for her ejection cord but the G-Force was pinning her to the seat. “I can’t reach it!”

“I’ve got it! Ejecting now!” Ash said reaching up and grabbing the ejection cord

Y/N jerked back as she was shot out of her seat as she was thrown backwards smacking her helmet into the canopy. As her parachute deployed she hung limply as she floated down to the ground.

“Rebel! Mayday mayday! Rebel is down! Rebel is down!” Ash said as he landed a few yards away immediately detaching his chute and rushing over to Y/N dropping to his knees beside her

“Talk to me Ash!” Maverick exclaimed trying to find a safe place to land

“Her helmet is shattered I think she hit her head on the canopy there’s a deep gash on her head she’s bleeding really bad.” Ash said as he put pressure on her head

“Main this is Maverick, we need a medical evach now!” Maverick said. “I’m landing.”

“Negative Maverick report back to base.”

“That’s my kid!” Maverick exclaimed

“There’s nothing you can do for her right now, report back to base immediately!”

Maverick cursed before turning around and flying back.

“Don’t let her die Goose. Please she’s all I have.” Maverick mumbled

“Rebel! Stay with me, open your eyes!” Ash said tapping the side of Y/N’s face. “Helps coming.”

──────── 🛫 ────────

Bradley had never ran somewhere so fast, when he heard about Y/N’s accident he immediately ran out to his car and drove as fast as he could to the hospital she was transported to.

Still in his gear Bradley ran through the hallways of the hospital dodging patients and staff with only one thing on his mind.

Seeing the love of his life.

“Bradley.” Maverick said spotting the kid he watched grow up and love his daughter

“How is she?” Rooster asked coming to a stop in front of him

“She just got here they won’t tell me anything yet.” Maverick sighed frustrated

“What the hell happened?” Rooster asked

“They got stuck in Hangman’s jet wash it killed both engines and caused a spin out.” Maverick said pausing

“Exactly what happened to you and my dad?” Rooster asked seeing Mavericks face

“Yeah. Ash said she hit her head on the canopy luckily her helmet took most of the impact.” Maverick said blinking his tears back

“Where is Ash?” Rooster asked clearing his throat as he could feel it starting to close up

“They are keeping him overnight for observation he’s getting checked out now.” Maverick said

“Family of Y/N Mitchell.” A doctor said coming down the hallway

“I’m her dad this is her boyfriend. How is she?” Maverick asked

“Very lucky. Just a few inches to the right and the blow to her head would have been fatal, she has a severe concussion and whiplash but other than that just cuts and bruises. I want to keep her for a few days to watch her concussion and after some physical therapy she should be back in a plane.” The doctor said making both men let out sighs of relief

“Can we see her?” Rooster asked, needing to see with his own eyes that she was ok

“Absolutely, right this way.” The doctor said gesturing for them to follow him

Maverick and Rooster stopped at the doorway of Y/N’s room, there she laid hooked up to a bunch of wires. She was in a hospital gown that showed the bruises and cuts on her arms and chest, she had a gash on her forehead that had been stitched along with a few bruises.

“You go on in I’m going to call and let everyone know she’s ok.” Maverick said and Rooster nodded walking over to her bedside, he pulled a chair over and sat down beside her.

Bradley grabbed her hand gently and brought it to his lips kissing it in relief, he couldn’t imagine losing her.

“I love you so much. I’m so glad your ok.” Bradley said gently stroking her face

It had been a few minutes and now Rooster was just sitting there stroking her cheek mindlessly, not even feeling as Y/N’s eyes fluttered open.

“Take me to bed or lose me forever.” Y/N mumbled with a smirk, Bradley chuckled remembering how his mom use to say that was her catch phrase that would keep his dad in line. Y/N loved it and has used it ever since.

“Show me the way honey.” Bradley smiled in response, copying his fathers response.

“Hi.” Y/N smiled

“Hi. How are you feeling?” Rooster asked

“Like I got hit by a plane. How’s Ash?” Y/N asked

“He’s fine, was really worried about you. They called his wife she’s on her way.” Rooster said and Y/N nodded

“Where’s dad?” Y/N asked looking around

“He’ll be right back, he called to let everyone know you are ok.” Rooster said as Y/N groaned

“My head hurts.” Y/N whined

“You’ve got a concussion. The doctor said you were really lucky.” Rooster said kissing her forehead

“I am Mavericks daughter.” Y/N smiled knowing that he was basically invincible, or at least that’s what all the admirals thought

“That you are. I love you so much.” Rooster said

“I love you too.” Y/N smiled

#top gun #top gun maverick #bradley bradshaw #pete mitchell #rooster x reader #bradley bradshaw x reader #pete mitchell x daughter reader

[officialtrashbin]

Ok ok ok ok ok wrap-up thoughts on the season now that the finale is out:

First of all, DEATHBIT DEATHBIT DEATHBIT

2) ok the subplot with Rogue and Magneto actually grew on me. Like, she’s rejected him ultimately but they still mattered to each other and they still do, it’s just not romantic from her side anymore. I can’t blame magneto for not getting over her rejection I’d never be able to take the psychic damage of losing Rogue

also yeah the age gap was a little weird but I’m living for the drama and the potential for their platonic friendship. I want to make a comment about how their stint is an example of unidentified trauma becoming trauma bonding but then I have to like…write it.

3) I actually think Roberto and Jubilee were super cute and have elected to give their storylines a pass. Like they’re just kids coming into adulthood and have found comfort in each other, that’s good enough for me for now. (Though I’d like to see more of comic-accurate Sunspot being adapted but I digress. It’s only been 1 season.)

Also I think Sunspot awkwardly hanging around the Xmen slowly coming to terms with his speedran adoption is the funniest basis for an arc and have no further comments. Might write a fic later on his Struggles.

4) KURT JOINING THE MOTHERFUCKIN SQUAD BABYYYY and literally just everything about him. Being so supportive of Rogue and holding her and encouraging Gambit and just 😭😭😭😭

5) PHOENIX JEAN PHOENIX JEAN I LOVED JEAN

6) cyclops was one of my least favs in the original, this show put so much respect back on his name. I actually adore him now—plus the scenes with him doting on his grown ass man child is hysterical. Need more of it. I need this guy telling people this Hulk Hogan of a unit is his lil boy.

If Nathan isn’t seen later at a baseball game with Scott in a Summer 01 jersey and the cyborg arm badly painted over I’m committing crimes.

7) I think Storm needed way more screen time. I know there were scenes with her written out due to budget issues (and also them skipping her goodbye to Gambit made me annoyed) but like. The fact that her centric arc was put across two episodes shared with other episodes was irritating.

7.5) In this same vein I missed Bishop, I got so attached!!!! but here’s to hoping he’s kicking ass again in s2!

8) the rate in which I fell in love with these characters all over again is insane. Like harder than the original show in a fraction of the time.

9) Rogue did nothing wrong. 😭

10) Magneto definitely wasn’t right, but it’s interesting to witness how they justified his view point with Genosha and Bastion, and the ripple effect it had on people who didn’t even agree with him in the first place.

11) Cherik lmfao they were SO gay. I’m all for affectionate besties and dudes being shown as having close platonic bonds but this was Very Affectionate Besties with Seductive Grin Bedroom Eyes Charles Every Two Sentences.

12) honestly want a version of this show though where Charles stayed gone. I actually like him! I just think not having him around to help guide everyone made things so much spicier. Magneto was StrugglingTM for Real

13) Gambit’s death was so good, but I definitely figured he’d be coming back somehow because there was no way they were offing him thinking Rogue didn’t choose him.

14) speaking of, I was mostly joking in my shitposts about Death Gambit cause I had my money on a possible Sentinel Gambit with Bastion’s introduction, but the moment they went to Egypt I started clawing up all my old shit posts.

15) ROGUE DID NOTHING WRONG (lots of wrong but you know what? I love her. She can commit wrongs again.)

16) Beast was so good but I also low key wish he had a bit more screen time. His bitterness after Genosha was short-lived, I wish it had been explored more, like Charles talking it out of him or something and reminding him about their goals or…something.

17) Bastion was awesome no notes, hope he comes back as a horseman for the flex

18) hot Magneto no notes

19) hot Apocalypse no notes

20) crop top Gambit no notes

21) “His name was Gambit! Remember it!” Rogue was so beast in this season, it was cathartic watching her beat the shit out of Bastion. Her and Sunspot honestly make for a cool combat duo and I want to see them interact more.

22) DEATH GAMBIT AAAAAAHHHHHG

23) ey yo hold up does this mean Leech and the Morlochs and the perished Genosha mutants are permanently dead??? 💀

24) Logan and Morph were definitely something this season and I adored it, I adored Morph especially. Like Morph really said I Love You even if it was as Jean, I take what I can get

26) Magneto ripping Wolverine’s skeleton out like homie wouldn’t try to kill him with a wooden chair if given the opportunity. If anything now Logan has 0 weaknesses and a personal vendetta he can act upon. Rest in pieces Erik.

27) A goddess, a gravely injured Canadian, and a metaphor for gender identity walk into a bar and all 3 say “ouch” (bad joke. You’re welcome. Don’t worry guys, Storm is there so their arc will be wrapped up in about 12 minutes. Sorry can you tell I’m still mildly salty about her lack of screen time)

28) Rogue launching Cap’s shield is 11/10. Do it again do it again (woulda been top tier humor if the end credits showed him still looking for it frantically as the asteroid got closer)

Mostly that’s all I got. I have various other thoughts including how fucking HYPE seeing my fav duo Cloak and Dagger made me, but these were the key personal takeaways.

#x men 97 #xmen 97 #x men 97 spoilers

[gothcatgirlfriend]

undertale yellow spoilers!

spoilers for the end of undertale yellow's no mercy route, neutral route, and major parts of pacifist. please do not read if you do not wish to be spoiled. you have been warned.

i apologize for any possible inaccuracies. i tried to be as accurate as possible by rewatching cutscenes, but there's always a chance i got things wrong. it also might be a bit rambly because i wrote them as messages. still, i have a lot of thoughts on this decision undertale yellow made, which i'd like to believe i backed with solid evidence. and in the end, it is only my opinion. i'd just like to have my point of view seen.

so, in regards to martlet and undertale yellow's no mercy route:

i think martlet is the perfect choice as no mercy's last stand, actually.

in undertale, it's sans, and yeah, he shows that he's menacing no matter what route you're on, but for the most part he comes off as a goofy slacker with some mysteries.

it's the fact that the player drives him to the state where he has to do something, because they're on a killing spree with nobody spared, literally. and he reveals that he's actually been working hard on all the time anomaly shenanigans behind the scenes that make sans such a good character to be the last defense between the player and asgore (until flowey kills him, and then the player kills flowey, and then chara kills the player...)

with undertale yellow, martlet is a very optimistic and genuine person. she's a bit of an airhead, but she still tries her best as a member of the royal guard. all the other major bosses fight clover in pacifist for reasons such as mistaking clover for the blue soul believing to be tracked down by them and defending themselves (dalv), blaming clover for their ruined relationships and believing that bringing in their soul themselves will repair their reputation (starlo), and of course, requiring clover's soul in a last-ditch effort to save their daughter from being at death's door (ceroba).

martlet is literally going by protocol. she's following the rules to the letter, and gets confused when clover refuses to attack, not even doing so herself before she gets to the part where she's allowed to. and the part where clover insults her behavior as a royal guard is where she falters and decides to spare clover, because it's true. her best isn't enough for them. the royal guard is under asgore's rule to take human's souls for monsterkind, but that isn't enough for her to finish the job.

this is where you keep in mind martlet and chujin's conversation that clover sees in the no mercy route. her mentor, that she admired and was close to, is extremely cautious of humans due to the incident with the blue soul. but even after knowing the damage they can cause, she has hope that not all of them are bad, as she'll say in no mercy herself.

so that's why in no mercy, when clover is delivering their twisted sense of justice and killing every monster they can, she knows she has to stop them. in the first encounter, after she realizes clover is the culprit, she tosses the guide book and puts everything she's got into the fight. but that, just as well, isn't enough. she has to retreat because they're too powerful, even though clover could continue their rampage. but still, after almost dying to them, she tries to convince them to end the violence because she wants to believe that they have an ounce of sympathy for their victims.

if no mercy is aborted, when clover meets her on the roof, she throws away the determination serum she picked up from the lab just like in regular neutral. because she sees that, at least in one instance, they didn't choose murder. and that's good enough for her. that's all it takes, even if flowey goes in for the kill and martlet blames clover. she only goes so far to do so in her dying moments, and because flowey purposefully hid in the shadows, so how would she know it wasn't them?

when no mercy is fully initiated, she doesn't even instigate the combat; clover does. they're so trigger-happy that they waste no time. and at that point she has to use the last weapon monsterkind has to prevent clover from reaching asgore. she waited until the last moment, hoping clover would change their mind. but when there's no hope for them, she harnesses that determination to become the most powerful monster in the underground, the zenith of monsterkind. she'll wield the determination to deliver justice unto clover.

even if it kills her.

#undertale yellow spoilers #uty spoilers #undertale yellow #ut yellow #uty #undertale yellow martlet #uty martlet #martlet undertale yellow #martlet uty #undertale yellow meta #uty meta #kity.txt

[annaofaza]

He always feels stiff after emerging from cryosleep, especially in his older age. Brad grumbles as he stands up from his work bench to stretch, joints popping; what he’d give to have Vash’s eternal fountain of youth.

At that thought, he glances at his screen: Vash is still sleeping, soft glow illuminating his features, blanket pulled up to his chin. Brad hopes he won’t get a shock when he wakes up, but he’s muttered a few rare complaints about his prosthetic arm being hell to sleep in—and it needs a good repair, anyway. Brad shakes his head, wondering if he’ll ask for another addition while he’s here.

Taking up his screwdriver again, Brad prepares to continue his adjustments when the door to Vash’s room slides open.

Luida had keyed the door so his companions could visit—the girl often sat vigil, and the old drunk had come in at least a few times, mostly to force her to eat something—but this man’s never entered before, despite having been the one to carry Vash onto the ship, glasses askew, jacket riddled with bullet holes. That had been a nasty shock, Luida immediately leaping for the med kit, and the man—Wolfwood—waving her off, saying, “I got myself covered. Work on him.”

It hadn’t been some macho bullshit, either; Brad really wants to take a look at those vials clinking in his jacket, but Wolfwood doesn’t seem the volunteering type—and with that machine gun masquerading as a cross, Brad’s not going to risk filching a sample himself.

Wolfwood approaches the bed in slow steps, for once without that fucking cigarette in his mouth. “Tongari,” he whispers, and bends over Vash, sealing his lips over his.

Brad’s jaw drops. Who the hell is this fucker, kissing an unconscious—

Just as Brad begins keying in the code so he can bust through the door and kick this guy’s ass, priest or not, Vash’s eyelids flutter.

“Wolfwood?” Vash murmurs, then snakes a hand to cup the nape of his neck. Wolfwood clutches at the back of his shirt with a frenzied sort of desperation that causes Vash to soothe, “It’s okay, I’m okay, you’re okay.”

Oh. Brad stops himself just in time, though his finger lingers over the release button just the same.

The two pull away, Vash sitting up, taking in his surroundings with a slump of relief. “Home,” he confirms, and Brad feels a wave of affection sweep over him.

“You’re finally awake, blondie,” Wolfwood says fondly.

“Is everyone—”

“Everyone is safe,” Wolfwood says quickly, accurately deducing Vash’s main concern, despite having been unconscious for a good period of time. Brad rolls his eyes; the kid’s still exactly the same. “Your friends up here swooped in at the nick of time. We were just waiting for you.”

Vash’s lips twist. “Even after... Did you see...”

“Yeah.” Wolfwood squeezes his hand. “And we’re all still here.”

“You know I’m not human, then.”

“I suspected. We all did; the little lady showed us that picture with you and... Rollo. We’re not going to gather pitchforks and torches and run you out, if that’s what you’re afraid of.”

Vash gives a shaky laugh; clearly, that has happened before. “How much have they told you?”

“Luida says it’s your story to tell,” Wolfwood replies. “And we’ve got some explaining to do ourselves. I don’t think that Brad guy fully trusts any of us.”

“He’s like that,” Vash laughs, “but he’s real sweet; I promise. They were everything after...” His voice cuts off, and he glances towards the photos pinned to the wall. “Anyway, Wolfwood, I’m sorry about—”

“Don’t,” Wolfwood interrupts. “He... it seems right, somehow. For all of us.”

Vash’s eyes widen. “Wolfwood, no—”

“There’s no sugarcoating it, blondie. Like I told you, you can’t save everyone.” Wolfwood seems more closed off, as if prodded too hard; Brad can see the sullen, silent mask slip back into place. “You should eat something, or at least let everyone know you’re awake. Little lady had to be carried out by grandpa just a few minutes ago.”

Vash smiles. “That sounds like Meryl.” Then, “Wolfwood, if you want to check on the orphanage while we’re here—”

“No.” Wolfwood shakes his head, stepping away. “It’s not worth risking... and besides, no one there will even recognize me. The important thing here is you.”

“I’m not the only—”

“Blondie. I said no.”

“All right,” Vash concedes gently, “but the offer still stands. Do you know where my arm went, by the way?”

“Brad has it,” Wolfwood says, clearly grateful for the change of subject. “Said you smashed up his masterpiece again. How often do you do that?”

“Often enough,” Vash says guiltily, sinking back onto his pillow; it looks like healing plants takes more out of him these days. “I think I’m going to rest for a bit. Will you stay?”

Wolfwood is quiet for a few seconds, and Brad wonders what’s going through his mind, even though he’s learned a lot about the priest from this one visit. He’s never seen the kid like this with anyone before, either, and if Wolfwood rejects him, Brad’s going to have a lot to say—

“Yeah, tongari,” Wolfwood whispers, “I’ll stay.”

#vashwood #trigun #trigun stampede #my fic

[storiesofsvu]

Solace in Solitude Ch 5

Emily Prentiss x reader enemies to lovers warnings: language, medical talk (some of which is not accurate, don't at me), minor hurt/anxiety, y'all know the drill already. My deepest apologies for how long this update took. Life really took over, ya know? I hope it won't be that long before the next one! Don't wanna miss an update? Sign up for the taglist here! Like what you read? Interact, Tip your writer!🩵

Emily wasn’t sure if it was anxiety or excitement coursing through her veins but she was practically buzzing from the moment the first nurse of the day left her room. The reason for the buzzing of course, was that all that stood between her and getting discharged was your signature. One little scribble on the bottom of a piece of paper and she would be out of this godforsaken hospital room for good, back out in the real world with fresh air, proper food and she could only pray, an actual coffee. She felt a bit like a child on the very last day of school, where you were stuck watching the clock tick each second by while you stared out the window watching the sunny day go by, aching to be running through the field rather than trapped in class, even if all you were doing was watching a movie. She was ready to rip out her IV and wander through the streets of Paris and at least attempt to enjoy this forced vacation.

The issue being that you normally swung by earlier in the day, checking on her and making sure everything was good before you started your rounds on other patients, took in other traumas and dove into surgeries. Emily reluctantly sat through a morning of near silence, no one coming or going from her room while she played scrabble on her tablet before lunch was served. She made sure to eat every ounce of it, on the off chance this was some kind of test, before she spent the afternoon switching between napping and catching up on the most recent season of The Bachelor that seemed to have her enamoured. She swore the sun was almost setting in the skyline by the time you finally rounded the corner into her room, this time you were in cozy clothes instead of scrubs, a small smile on your face.

“Sorry. Things got a little crazy today, how are you?” You asked, sweeping through the room to glance through her chart.

“Aching to get out of here.” She replied with a soft sigh and you chuckled.

“Well… everything looks good.” You flicked the chart closed, moving to the table, “I’ll sign off on these, file them, take your IV out and we can finally be on our way.”

“Are you serious?” Her face lit up and you were pretty sure it was the first time you’d actually seen her smile, “like, you’re not fucking with me?”

“Why would I fuck with you?” You barked a laugh, “I know this is what you’ve been waiting for, I wouldn’t dare tease.”

“No last minute tests or scans?”

“Nope.” You smiled, “everything yesterday checked out perfectly. You’re doing good in PT, incisions all healed, ribs back to normal and in the places they should be. You,” you picked up one of the newer clipboards from the base of the bed, scrawling your name across a handful of dotted lines, “are free to go.” You pulled off the pages of discharge papers that were her copies, handing them to her, “there’s some after care instructions and a few other things in there you’ll need to read over.” Moving through the room you gloved up, swiftly taking out her IV, un-attaching her from the rest of the machines, “alright. I’m gonna go file these and punch out, give you time to make sure you’ve got everything.”

“Thanks.” Emily flashed you a bright smile as you collected all the paperwork you needed and disappeared from the room.

She let out a huge breath of relief, shifting from the bed as her eyes carefully glanced around the room to make sure she hadn’t missed packing anything up, not that she had much to begin with but she still wanted to double check. She had just tucked her phone charger into her bag when you popped back through the doorway, your bag tossed over your shoulder this time.

“Ready?”

“Like you wouldn’t believe.” She replied, cautiously picking up the small duffle, only wincing slightly when she got it over her shoulder.

“It’s not far.” You commented, digging through your bag until you found the spare metro card, passing it off to her, “that’s for the rest of the month.” You seamlessly switched to French as you exited the hospital doors in an attempt to blend in “have you been to Paris before?”

“Yeah.” She replied, pausing for a moment as you nodded toward your right in the direction of the metro, “lived here for a bit growing up.”

“Well, at least you won’t be utterly lost then.”

Conversation fell quieter as you ducked into the station, not only could Emily tell that you’d had a long day she was catching the vibe that you’d had a long week and were very much looking forward to getting home after you’d finished chaperoning her. On top of that, this was her first time out in civilization in months, she was a little on edge, a little rusty in her profiler ways as she discreetly listened to conversations around the two of you, eyes carefully darting around making sure your surroundings were safe and Ian wasn’t magically on the same train platform. You seemed to sense this, discreetly giving her wrist a gentle pinch when your train showed up so it wouldn’t look like you were fully giving her directions, guiding her to a seat at the back of the car where her back could be to the wall and she could keep an eye on things. You still weren’t sure on specifics but you knew she’d been a little freaked out about leaving the safety of the hospital, that this could be overwhelming for anyone getting discharged after that length of time much less someone who was living a fake life currently in order to survive.

A few stops later, you gently nudged at her good side and she followed you out of the car, taking note of what station it was and which exit you took that was closest to your destination. You nodded toward a little market, asking if she wanted to grab a couple of things on her way home and she agreed, silently slipping through the aisles until she’d found enough to last through a couple of days and met back with you at the counter. She felt awkward when you passed off cash to the shop owner, realizing she didn’t have any and you muttered an apology to her as you left the shop, saying you’d left her bank and credit cards in the apartment with her passports and stuff, not wanting to lose them. You took the bag from her so she wasn’t carrying too heavy of a load as you walked up another block and a half and you directed her to an apartment building, using the fob to get through the front door and into the elevator where you scanned it again to make it move.

“Extra security is nice.” Emily mumbled, letting out a breath as she relaxed into the back wall, “and I appreciate the escort, but you really didn’t need to come up with me.”

“I didn’t want you to struggle with two bags.” You retorted and she let out a little laugh, interrupting when you tried to continue your stream of thought.

“Am I not trusted with the key?”

“No, you’ve got your own.” You dug through your bag again, pulling the second chain from it to pass over to her.

“My… own?” She stalled slightly as the elevator doors slid open, glancing between the key in your hand and the one in hers. She watched as you stepped a few feet down the hallway and slid your key into the lock, “do you have a key to my apartment?”

“Seriously?” You raised a brow to her, pushing the door open before silencing the alarm as she scurried out of the elevator and to your side, “they spent seventeen thousand on your funeral, another six hundred and forty two thousand on your medical bills and that doesn’t even cover your ongoing PT. You’re lucky they gave us a two bedroom.”

“What.” Her voice hardened slightly as she stepped into the doorway of the apartment, her lips forming into a tight frown.

“Between their allocated budget and your level of ongoing care it was the best option.”

“You’ve got to be kidding me.”

She stepped into the space, letting the door swing shut behind her and after a brief second thought, she turned to quickly make sure it was locked. The apartment wasn’t small, but it wasn’t giant either, a small entry space filled with a rug, coat and shoe racks and a small table that you tossed your keys and work bag down onto as you kicked off your shoes. A foot or so down on the left was a small kitchen, enough space for most standard appliances and counterspace that curved into a breakfast bar opening up into the living room. The space was tidy, clean, dishes sitting in the drying rack that she could only assume were from that morning, a few blankets tossed over the back of the couch and one of the larger chairs, a few books, some of which looked like medical text books on the coffee table along with a vase of flowers. Off to the right were three doors, each open and it was safe to assume two were bedrooms and the one in between was a bathroom.

“Laundry’s in the basement.” You commented, pulling her out of her trance as you crossed to the kitchen to put the food away in the appropriate places, “the card for it’s with your bank and ID’s on the bedside table.” You gestured towards the room closer to the door and she was safe to assume that meant it was hers, “some extra clothes and things in the closet. Make yourself at home.”

“Yeah.” Her tone was terse, letting out a huff as she kicked her shoes off and disappeared into her room to dump her bag on the bed, looking around the space.

“I’m gonna run down to the gym, you have my number if you want me to pick anything up on the way back.” You called to her as you wandered into your room, pulling your hair up into a ponytail as you grabbed a couple of things.

“Yeah, whatever.”

Her reply was barely audible through the apartment though the slamming of her bedroom door certainly was. It caught you off guard, jumping slightly at the sound before you glanced in the direction of her room through the wall. You hadn’t really thought sharing a space would piss her off like that, hell, after the way she’d been acting through the week you were back at the point that you thought the two of you might actually end up being friends. Rolling your eyes you let out a small sigh, scooping up your keys and grabbing a water bottle from the fridge before you stepped through the door, making sure it was locked behind you.

In her room Emily dropped down on the edge of the bed, her head burying in her hands as she let out a heavy breath. She’d been in such high sprits all day that she was finally going to be free, that she was going to be able to live her life again, be herself again. She’d nearly forgotten why she was in Paris in the first place, that just because step two was done and she was out of the hospital did not mean that things were going back to normal. She still wasn’t able to go home, wasn’t able to call any of her old friends and still had to be alert whenever she was out. Because she wasn’t herself, she was Valerie. And Valerie deserved a fighting change at surviving this mess, even if Emily didn’t.

*

You came back a couple of hours later to a dark and quiet apartment. Considering Emily’s reaction to the shared space you figured you’d give her a little bit longer to adjust to the new environment, giving her a chance to explore the space without you in it while you were out. Instead it looked like she had stayed shut away in her room, not a single thing out of place when you returned.

Flicking on a few lights you changed into pyjamas first, tossing your gym clothes into the laundry hamper, you’d opted to shower at the gym already so at least that was checked off your nightly list. Wandering back to the kitchen you pulled a few things from the fridge to whip together an easy chipotle chicken pasta, pouring yourself a hefty glass of wine to go along with it. Crossing through the apartment you set your dinner up on the balcony, wanting to enjoy the spring evening and fresh air outside of the hospital while you ate. On your trip back into the apartment you picked up one of the novels on the coffee table to indulge yourself with, before you glanced up to the closed bedroom door and let out a small sigh. You took a brief break to quickly plate up the second portion of pasta, topping it with fresh parmesan, wrapping it tightly in tinfoil before tossing the pot into the sink to be cleaned later. On your way back to the balcony you gently knocked on the closed door,

“There’s a plate of food on the counter, I know you didn’t eat dinner.” Was all you said before you slipped back to the balcony, sliding the glass door shut behind you. You figured if she had some privacy and her own space she was more likely to come out to at least get the food if not eat it.

You weren’t sure how long you were outside, but the sun was fully set, a chill in the air pulling shivers from you as you finished another chapter. Figuring that was the signal to head back inside you picked up your things, book going back to the coffee table while the dishes came with you into the kitchen. The extra plate of food still sitting exactly where you’d left it. You sighed softly, sliding it to the side so you could do your dishes, putting away the ones from that morning in the cupboard.  You glanced toward her room, huffing softly before you picked up the plate and stashed it in the fridge, if she wasn’t going to touch it you at least wanted it edible tomorrow so you could eat leftovers.

Emily had fallen asleep not long after you’d knocked on her door, truthfully, she was pretty exhausted. If the sheer annoyance and frustration hadn’t kept her riled up when you were at the gym she knew she would’ve fallen asleep then. She was still recovering after all and even a short journey through the city was more than enough to wipe her out. She’d drifted in and out through the silence and the sound of you doing dishes, listening as you putzed around the apartment a bit before your bedroom door finally clicked shut. She could feel the pit in her stomach beginning to ache and knew she would need to eat something before attempting to get some sleep but she didn’t dare leave her room until long after she’d heard you flick your bedroom light off and get into bed.

Only once the apartment was in complete silence did she finally, silently, slip from under the covers of her bed, pulling JJ’s sweater tighter around her as she snuck around the apartment. With you off in dreamland she finally let herself look around the space properly, it was decorated nicely, although she was sure some of that wasn’t you. This was likely some federal apartment, and Interpol one, maybe even a Doctors without Borders one, that was even more likely knowing her trail had to be covered. But there were still touches she knew had to be you, more personal items that you would’ve picked up over the last couple of months, the blanket over the back of the couch looked particular inviting, fuzzy but not in the overstimulating itchy way, dotted with constellations and she was sure that was yours. She liked the flowers on the table, the idea that you liked to fill your space with something alive, colourful and considering the shape of them you changed them out every couple of weeks, she’d noticed an array of flowers at the market you’d stopped at earlier. Above the tv there were some photo frames scattered on the wall, a few of you with a girl a few years younger who looked an awful lot like you, considering they all looked like travel pictures she figured that was your sister. Another frame looked like a family photo, an older brother from what she could tell from resemblance, who had a couple of kids, your sister and your parents. The third was from a graduation, judging by your age she figured when you finished medical school, the same friends copying over into a couple of other photos, one where it looked like you were a bridesmaid. Little pieces of home you’d brought with you in an attempt to ground yourself and not forget who you were, things that she didn’t have on this particular journey.

Her stomach growled and she let out a sigh, thankful it had distracted her before she could spiral down the hole of not having any pieces of her old life here. She quietly wandered back to the kitchen, not even daring to flick the light on, using the fridge and stove lamp as her resources as she found the plate of food wrapped in the fridge. Her hand rested on the counter as she pulled it out, hitting a patch of condensation where it must have been sitting warm, waiting for her earlier and her head tilted in realization. Directly beside the spot was a three quarter full bottle of wine, an empty, clean wine glass, as if you’d left that out for her along with the food originally. Her eyes darted to the drying rack, a water spotted glass sat there, you’d clearly already had yours. Popping the plate into the microwave she thought for a moment, the only meds she was still on were the sleeping ones and anxiety ones, both you’d mentioned no heavy drinking on, but she was sure one glass wouldn’t hurt. Hell, it would probably knock her the fuck out with the meds and that truly was what she needed if she was gonna get any sleep in a new environment.

She managed to catch the microwave before it beeped, glancing up toward your room and listening for a moment before she pulled open a drawer in search of cutlery. Unbeknownst to her, she actually copied your routine, taking the food and wine out to the balcony to enjoy. She couldn’t help but want to feel the breeze on her face, breathe the fresh air, the coolness of it helping calm her racing heart, help ease her anxiety while she ate. She felt bad leaving the glass and plate in the sink but by the time she was finished her wine her eyelids were drooping so heavily she knew she wasn’t going to make it much longer, enough energy to make sure all the doors and windows were locked before collapsing into her bed.

Emily tugged the blankets tighter around her, letting out a little shiver as she curled around herself. She inhaled heavily, frowning when the scent of detergent was overpowering, only a flicker of JJ’s perfume remained on the sweater. It had stood out so strongly against the chemical smells in the hospital it had been her go to calming mechanism, a memory of home lulling her to sleep. Now so much time had passed it was nearly gone and she knew she would need to wash the thing soon, then it would be gone forever. Her body sunk heavily into the bed, at least this one was more comfortable than her last, letting out a breath a tear rolled over her cheek as she nestled deeper into the pillows. It was only a moment later she was asleep, hoping that her dreams would distract her, that maybe she’d wake up in a different situation, that maybe all of this had been a nightmare of its own.

_______________

@mickey-gomez @momlifebehard @daddy-heather-dunbar @maybe-a-humanbean @rustyzebra @leftoverenvy @kades95 @dextur @supercriminalbean @daffodil-heart @its-soph-xx xx @just-a-torn-up-masterpiece @hopelesslyfallenninlove @peanutbutterprincess @emilyprentisssluvr @lex13cm @zizzlekwum @emobabeyy @riveramorylunar @s1ut4nat @scorpsik @prentiss-theorem @strongsassysexysloane @happenstnces @sapphicprentiss @geekyandgay98 @pagetboobstarcomments @onmykneesformarvel @inlovewithemilyprentiss @desperate-gay @amypoehlfey @overtrred28 @theclassicgaycousin @regalmilfs4me @kalixxh @ara-a-bird @five-bi-five-mind @niyizh @inlovewithmiddleagewomen @tommyriddleobsessed @hotchs-bitch @ollysmulti @kmc1989 @irishavengersassemble @romanoffsho @honeyycat @ratsnestinmyhair @assgardangod @originalbrunettecharacter @elz-artzzz

#emily prentiss #criminal minds #emily prentiss x reader #enemies to lovers #solace in solitude #emily prentiss fanfic

[starsstuddedsky]

Chapter 7 - The Cataclysm

reader x jihoon

Chapter 6 | masterlist | Chapter 8

summary: when you're caught in a simple lie, the best solution? dig in and stick to your guns until everything inevitably goes wrong and everyone gets hurt

or, a serial dater and a pessimist fake a relationship in the vain hope that nothing will go wrong

genre: fluff, angst, non-idol au, lawyer au, coworkers to lovers??? friends to lovers???? fake dating!!!!!

warnings: alcohol, food, cursing, lmk if i missed any!

wc: 5.8k

a/n: we're getting so close to the end!!!

taglist: open! send an ask or comment!

Jihoon is used to being late, at least for social functions. He’s only been late for work twice, both times out of his control, only ever missed one lecture during university because he got food poisoning. But with his friends, he’s expected to be late. If Jihoon says he’s coming at 7, everyone knows he won’t show up until 8. 

So why does it bother him that he’s late tonight? He even warned you that it would be another half an hour when Seokmin came crying to his office about some mistake he made on the Calvin’s case. It’s not a very good first impression on your friends, even if it holds up to your characterization of him (according to you). 

So as soon as he gets out of the office, he rushes over, leaving his car in your apartment's garage and walking two blocks to the party. He knocks on the townhouse door, a pretty shade of green, not so bright that it stands out, dark and subtle. Just as he raises his hand to knock again, the door swings open and Jihoon realizes his mistake. 

“Welcome!” The door is opened by a man (a grown man) wearing a skin tight suit and cat ears. He clearly has already drunk too much, swaying on his feet. It takes him a full thirty seconds to realize he doesn’t know Jihoon, walking away with a frown leaving the door open. 

It’s a costume party. It’s Halloween, of course it’s a costume party, but Jihoon is standing on the doorstep still wearing a plain blue button down and slacks and looking like a complete idiot. And before he can even think of a backup plan someone is shouting his name. 

“Jihoon!” Soonyoung shouts. He’s wearing a tiger print sheet wrapped around him, more or less covering the important bits, but clearly meant to show off his well-defined muscles. Jihoon would bet anything he disappears to do push-ups every twenty minutes just to keep his biceps popping. 

Soonyoung, friends since high school, won the talent show in high school with a dance cover of Beyoncé’s Crazy in Love and nearly killed you falling off the podium, which Jihoon figures is a pretty accurate description of both you and Soonyoung. Has been dressing up as a tiger for Halloween for over ten years now. 

“Soonyoung,” he says, allowing the other man to drag him inside. 

“What are you supposed to be?” Soonyoung asks, words slurring just a tiny bit. 

“A person with a job,” Jihoon grumbles. “What are you?” 

“Zeus, obviously,” Soonyoung says. He glances at the tiger print wrapped around the other man. Jihoon doesn’t see any Greek god in particular. Or any Greek. Or any God. Mostly he just sees tigers. 

“Dude, you’re ripped.” Soonyoung latches onto Jihoon, wrapping his free hand around his shoulder. It travels to his arms, squeezing his biceps, triceps, back up to his back and touching everything he can. “Where do you work out? Do you need a gym buddy? Can I be your gym buddy?” 

“How much have you had to drink?” Jihoon asks, pushing Soonyoung back an arm’s distance away. 

“Two shots? And this.” He holds up a bottle of some mixed drink. 

“Yeah, Soonyoung is a bit of a lightweight,” a new voice says. Jihoon turns and it takes all of his willpower not to jump. The man that approaches (and rescues Jihoon from Soonyoung’s clingy grip) wears a scarily accurate Edward Scissorhands costume, complete with hair he isn’t entirely sure is a wig and sharp-looking blades of metal attached to his fingers. 

Jeonghan, soccer player that you befriended in college. In your own words, “thinks he’s more arrogant than he is,” “highly judgemental,” and “simultaneously the worst person you’ve ever met and your most beloved friend in the world.” 

“Yoon Jeonghan,” he says. “I’d shake your hand, but…” He waves the knives. “And you are the infamous Lee Jihoon. Soonyoung, shake the man’s hand for me.” 

He practically jumps at the opportunity, except the bottle is in his right hand and he almost spills it on himself. His hand is warm and sweaty and it’s a terrible handshake. 

“Good strong grip,” Soonyoung says, giggling. 

“Thanks?” 

“Yeah, He’s going to be gone in about two hours,” Jeonghan says. “But he’ll be fine. I’m much more interested in you.” 

You warned him about Jeonghan but it’s a different experience to be analyzed by him in person. Especially when he’s clad in leather and wearing blades for hands. 

“No costume? Wait, let me guess.” Jeonghan pauses, raising his eyebrows. “Too busy?” 

“I came straight from the office,” Jihoon says. He hates how it sounds like an excuse. He showed up, didn’t he? Why isn’t that enough? 

“Costumes are overrated,” Jeonghan says. 

Jihoon raises his eyebrows, glancing at Jeonghan’s costume again. 

“There’s a competition,” Jeonghan says. “Not here,” he adds quickly. “I would not put in this much effort for these losers. They clearly don’t require that.” 

Jihoon can’t argue with that. Most of the people scattered around the couches and up the stairs are wearing half assed costumes, many of which are meant to show as much skin as possible. It reminds him of the college parties he never went to, except everyone here is an adult. 

“Where’s yn?” Jihoon asks, since it’s really the only thing he’s sure Jeonghan won’t judge him for. It should hopefully win him points. 

“Upstairs, drinking with some old college friends. They probably gave up waiting for someone that never shows up.” 

“Sorry about that,” Jihoon mutters. 

“I’m just kidding!” Jeonghan says with a grin. It’s a little scary with his outfit. “I don’t think yn actually thought you’d come to be honest.” It’s clear he doesn’t just mean you had no faith in him. 

“I guess I did that to myself,” he says. “I’d apologize to Soonyoung for the anniversary incident, but I don’t think he’ll remember.” 

Soonyoung giggles, finishing his drink. “I won’t!” He pushes off Jeonghan, wandering away. 

“Should we be worried about him?” Jihoon asks, frowning at his unsteady walk. 

“You-no, me-eh,” Jeonghan says. “He’s been worse.” He tries to fold his arms but the scissors on his hands knock against everything. “So what did you do for the anniversary?” 

Jihoon thinks he can hear an actual warning bell going off, but you’ve trained him for this. He��s prepared. “Nothing that special. Yn just came over and we cooked together and just spent time together.” 

“How boring,” Jeonghan says. “You at least got them a gift, right?” 

“Of course,” Jihoon says. “An amazing one. Well, something yn likes. It’s actually not that amazing but yn liked it.” 

“That’s the important part,” Jeonghan says. “Do I get to know what it is?” 

“Nope,” Jihoon says, even though he knows you already told him. He just doesn’t want to talk about the painstaking task of harassing the office manager until you finally got a working printer. It doesn’t sound particularly romantic, plus you were the one that actually did it. He feels a little guilty claiming the credit for it, especially since you managed to get him a chair specifically made for athletic office workers. 

“Well, I have evaluated and assessed and you are okay,” Jeonghan says. “For now.” 

“Should I be more offended by the ‘okay’ or the ‘for now’?” Jihoon asks. 

“The ‘okay’ was a compliment,” Jeonghan says. “You don’t know how rarely I give them out, especially to yn’s boyfriends. Honestly the only thing that’s saving you is what yn said about you. And the fact that you’re a real, living person. I wasn’t entirely convinced until tonight. But you are exactly what yn said you’re like.” 

“And the ‘for now’?” 

Jeonghan shrugs. “This is the first time I’ve ever met you, so… for now. I already said I liked you well enough so don’t push it.” 

“Thank you?” Jihoon says. 

“You’re welcome.” Jeonghan throws an arm over his shoulder, blades rattling over his arm. Jihoon still isn’t sure if they’re fake or not. 

“Look who I found!” Soonyoung shouts. He pushes another body across the room to where Jihoon and Jeonghan stand. Thankfully his costume is less extreme and Jihoon can recognize him. 

Vernon. Friends since college, a linguistics major with a passion for film. Apparently watched Everything Everywhere All At Once recently because he has sausages for fingers. Fake sausages, taped loosely and falling off. 

Jihoon is pretty sure you wanted to introduce your friends to him yourself, but it’s too late now. Soonyoung pushes from behind, except his hands are full with a drink in each. Vernon allows himself to be pushed until he’s in front of Jihoon. 

“Hey, you’re Jihoon,” he says. 

“You’re Vernon.” 

“Soonyoung, shake the man’s hand for Vernon,” Jeonghan says. 

“Oh that’s not—” Vernon begins. 

 “Too late!” Soonyoung says, shaking his hand, a bottle separating the hands. He lets go, leaving the drink in Jihoon’s hand. “That’s for you! Neither of these two idiots chose costumes that allow them to use their hands.” 

“Thanks,” Jihoon says. Normally he only drinks the expensive alcohol that Seungkwan gets as gifts or beer but tonight he can make an exception. For you. Besides, the drink is overly sweet and fizzy, but it’s not bad, and the more he drinks from it, the better it tastes. 

“You’re not going to question me?” Jihoon asks Vernon. 

“Nah, that’s Jeonghan’s thing,” he says. “I’m a vibe guy. Checking vibes.” 

“You’re strange,” Jihoon says. 

“Thank you,” Vernon says, resting a hand full of sausage-fingers on Jihoon’s shoulder. 

“You’re welcome,” Jihoon says, doing his best not to frown at the strange sensation of fake fingers on his shoulder. 

“How long before you have to run off and put out a fire?” Jeonghan asks. 

“You’re a firefighter?” Soonyoung asks, eyes wide. 

“It’s a metaphor, dude,” Vernon says. “Though I bet he could carry you pretty easily.” 

“Right! Because he’s strong!” Soonyoung leans closer, moving to look at Jihoon’s shoulders again. Then, apparently he gets distracted, because he sniffs at Vernon’s fingers, then opens his mouth. 

“Soonyoung they're fake!” Vernon says, yanking his hand away and accidentally shoving Jihoon forward. Instead of biting into Vernon’s (fake) sausage fingers, Soonyoung’s mouth falls onto Jihoon’s shoulder, teeth and all. 

“Soonyoung!” Jeonghan shouts, grabbing the other man. 

“Yuck,” Soonyoung says. “You taste like laundry detergent and sweat.” 

“How do you know what laundry detergent tastes like?” Vernon asks. 

“Don’t ask,” Jeonghan says, rolling his eyes. “Four shot Soonyoung is not allowed anywhere near cleaning supplies. Or kitchens.” 

“I’m going to go find yn,” Jihoon says, taking another sip of his drink. He doesn’t think he’s had much, but it’s nearly empty. Strange. He can feel it when he walks to the stairs, vaguely aware of Jeonghan, Soonyoung, and Vernon following him. A slight buzz that makes his ears feel warm and steps light. He pushes past a Woody and Buzz Lightyear making out on the stairs, which take way more focus than usual to ascend. 

The second floor has more space than the first, a wide room with sofas and a floor that would be empty if it weren’t for all the people sitting on it. He sees you immediately, sitting between someone wearing a half-deflated dinosaur costume and Howl from Howl’s Moving Castle. You’re laughing, because it’s you, and he thinks he can listen to you laugh for the rest of his life. And then you see him. 

“Jihoon!” You jump up with a ridiculous grin. Jihoon remembers what Jeonghan said. You never expected him to show up. He thinks it might be true with how happy you look now. You almost tackle him in a hug. 

“Why is there a wet mark on your shoulder?” You ask into his chest. 

“Your friends are weird.” 

You laugh again, squeezing him tight. “I’m sorry.” 

“They’re fun though,” he says. “I like them.” 

“Now you’re the one being weird,” you say. You let go of him, studying him. He watches as your eyes narrow in on the drink in his hand. “Oh my god, are you drunk?” 

“It’s one drink, I’m not that much of a lightweight,” Jihoon says. 

Clearly you’ve had more than one drink because you laugh yet again. You haven’t stopped smiling since he appeared, and Jihoon kind of hopes you never stop. 

“You weren’t too mean, were you?” You say, turning to face Jeonghan. Your hand slips into Jihoon’s. 

“”You won’t believe me if I say no,” he says. 

“That’s because you never liked any of my boyfriends,” you say. “But now that you’ve met Jihoon, you have to admit it. He’s different.” 

“He is definitely not your type,” Vernon says. Jihoon decides not to think too much about that. 

You spin around to face Jihoon again, dropping his hand. “Guess what I am?” You ask, more than a little giggly. You raise your arms to show your full black outfit, complete little black wings that dangle. You spin in a circle and there’s a little black tail that follows you, bouncing gently. He has absolutely no idea what you are supposed to be but you’re smiling at him looking absolutely giddy and he decides any guess is better than nothing. 

“The endangered solenodon?” 

“Not endangered anymore! But still venomous,” you say. “And no! They aren’t even black. I’m Toothless, obviously.” You wave your wings. 

“That was my second guess,” Jihoon says. “Who’s Toothless?” 

“Toothless? How to Train A Dragon?” 

“Never seen it,” Jihoon says. 

“This is a travesty. A crime. You could be sued for this. I’m writing a lawsuit in my head.” 

Jihoon wraps an arm around you, pulling you back to his side. “If I watch it with you, will you promise not to sue me?” 

“Hm.” You eye him. “I won’t sue you for How to Train A Dragon. I won’t agree to anything else.” 

“Are there more lawsuits being planned up in your head?” He asks, poking your head gently. It’s been a while since he’s let himself just relax but it seems to come naturally when he’s with you. 

“Just you wait,” you say. “You have no idea what you’ve started by dating me.” 

“No, I do not,” Jihoon says, barely more than a whisper. You don’t hear him. 

You flap your wings rather pitifully. “I like my costume.” 

“I’m very sorry to be the one to tell you this, but you are not winning any costume contests tonight,” Jihoon says. He can’t help but laugh when you pout. 

“As long as no one else calls me a bat,” you say. Jihoon laughs and hugs you again. 

“You’d be a really cute bat, though,” he says. The drink must have really kicked in but Jihoon can’t find it in himself to care. 

“Are you done being disgusting?” Jeonghan says. He’s moved past both of you to the floor, joining Dinosaur dude and Howl and a few other people on the floor. 

“It’s not disgusting! It’s true love!” Soonyoung cries. “Yn deserves it!” 

“Okay, buddy,” Vernon says, saving everyone from a shower by grabbing the cup from Soonyoung’s hand. “Let’s maybe chill out.” 

“I will not!” Soonyoung says. He sprawls onto the floor, limbs flying everywhere. There’s a scramble to move anything in his path. “Love is more important than anything! I will not be silenced!” 

“No one is silencing you,” you say. You pull Jihoon down beside you, crossing your legs on the floor. Jihoon sits back against the couch and you lean into him, your shoulder pressing into his chest so that you’re mostly covering him. Soonyoung wiggles on the floor like a worm until his head is in your lap. 

“You’re upside down,” he says. 

You shake your head, turning to Jihoon. “You see what I deal with? Fooling them is like taking candy from a baby.” 

“I had no idea you had such malicious intentions,” Jihoon says. He wonders if having a second drink is the best idea, but a bottle is being placed in his hand and the first one tasted so good, so he just figures he’ll do what he wants tonight and deal with the consequences later. 

“Who’s down for some truth or dare?” Someone he doesn’t know asks. 

“Yes!” Soonyoung says, jumping out of your lap. “Yes, yes, yes!” 

“Yes, as long as no one dares Soonyoung to jump out of any windows,” Jeonghan says. 

“Has that happened?” Jihoon asks you softly. 

“Yeah, he broke both his legs and wanted to do it again because ‘it was wrong the first time,’” you say. 

“Yn? Jihoon?” Vernon says. 

“We are grown adults with real jobs,” Jihoon whispers in your ear. “This is a game for teenagers.” 

“You’ve never played Truth or Dare, have you?” You say, turning to face him. His face gives him away without a word. 

“We’re in!” You announce. 

The circle starts halfway across, three people away. Ironman is dared to chug her drink, then a fairy talks about her worst sexual experience (Jihoon can feel his cheeks burning the more details she adds). The person next to him (wearing a clown mask and regular clothes in a poor man’s imitation of the joker) chooses truth too, and Vernon asks him to honestly say whether he relates to the joker or not. 

“Heath Ledger of Joaquin Phoenix?” Joker asks. 

“Joaquin Phoenix,” Vernon says. 

“I mean, we’re all a little bit like the Joker,” Joker says. “Especially us guys that get overlooked.” He glances around the room, pausing at the men in the circle. “Right?” 

“Nope,” Vernon says. 

“I have never felt like that,” Dinosaur says. 

“What are we talking about?” Jihoon says in a fake whisper. 

“It’s a movie,” you fake whisper back. “Don’t worry about it. But also don’t sit too close to that guy.” 

“Hey!” Joker says. He glares at you so Jihoon sits up a little straighter, letting his arm rest on top of yours. 

“Your turn!” Jeonghan says, apparently blind to reading the room. “Jihoon, truth or dare?” 

“This is so dumb,” Jihoon grumbles. He has only one choice, though. ‘Truth’ runs too many risks of questions he can’t answer, so he says, “Dare.” 

“Great!” Jeonghan says. “I dare you to kiss yn.” 

“Seriously?” Jihoon says. You sit up, no longing lounging on his chest. 

“Don’t mess around, Jeonghan,” you say. You wiggle your eyebrows and seem to be trying to communicate with your eyes, but Jeonghan seems to be blind yet again. 

“I’d never joke! It’s just a kiss,” he says. “He’s getting off easy, honestly.” 

“It’s true,” Soonyoung says. “I once jumped out of a window.” 

“You enjoyed that,” Vernon says. 

You turn to face Jihoon. Your smile is gone. “You don’t have to do this,” you say softly. 

“It’s fine.” Jihoon shrugs. “If you’re good, I’m good.” It’s not the most romantic words he could have said, but they do the trick because you close your mouth and lean a little closer to him, resting your hand on his chest. He’s been this close to you so many times, but it never fails to make his heart race. 

“This okay?” You breathe. 

“Of course,” he somehow manages to say. You stay there for a moment, eyes flickering between his eyes and his lips and Jihoon wonders if he should do something. Thankfully, you close your eyes and lean even closer and then your lips are on his. 

There are two types of kisses in the world, not that Jihoon has ever experienced either of them. Still, he has learned (from an embarrassing amount of anime and his own friends��� conservative retellings) that they exist. 

#1 is an awkward thing, a short, chaste peck on the lips that hardly counts as a kiss, or maybe an attempt at something more that ends with teeth gnashing against each other and tongues ‘battling for dominance’ that leaves both parties changed for the worse. 

#2 is deep, soul changing, dizzying, breathtaking, a million more verbs that he can’t think of, leaving both parties so senseless they can’t remember their own names, only the heat of the moment. 

Jihoon thinks that these are bullshit, because this kiss is neither of them. 

Your lips are soft against his, and he finds it easy to gently press them apart, to pull you even closer to him. This is definitely not a chaste kiss (not when there’s this much tongue involved) but he doesn’t feel his soul change. Only his lips because when he finally pulls away (memory fully intact), he realizes that this was, technically, his first kiss. 

So maybe you did change him, fundamentally, but he figures A) you’ve already stolen his first kiss and B) your lips are warm and soft, so he comes to the conclusion that C) he might as well just kiss you again and deal with the consequences later. He might have kissed you all night, until the taste of your last drink (a hard lemonade?) washed away and all that is left is you. Unfortunately, when he finally pulls away to breathe after the second kiss, he can hear the whoops (and groans) from the circle and the illusion is gone. 

Fact #15: you are a good kisser. 

Reality hits him, but luckily he’s just tipsy enough to push it away, pretending that the redness in his face is from the alcohol instead of embarrassment. You hide behind your hands, leaning into his embrace when Jihoon pulls you into his chest. 

“Too much?” He asks in what he hopes is a whisper. 

You shake your head. Before you can say anything else, Soonyoung slaps your leg. 

“Come on,” he says. “Truth or dare.” 

“Truth,” you say, still hiding behind your hands. 

“How long did you have feelings for Jihoon before you did anything?” Vernon asks. 

You peek from behind your hands, shooting a glare at Vernon before turning to Jihoon. “It’s hard to say.” 

“Boo,” Soonyoung says. “Something spicy or you have to take a shot.” 

“Nothing spicy to say,” you say quickly. “But I guess technically it all started this one night, just after graduation. College graduation, I mean.” You meet his eyes. “I still remember thinking ‘he’s going to be a really great man one day.’ And I was right.” 

Jihoon is positive that everyone in the room knows the redness in his face is not from the alcohol but he doesn’t really care. All he can see is you looking at him, and he wonders why he’s never seen you before, why you’ve been by his side for his whole life but never here, like this. 

And then he remembers that you aren’t, not really. 

“They have to take a shot for that, right?” Soonyoung says. 

“Yeah that was boring,” Jeonghan says. 

“Not fair!” You say. “I told the truth!” 

“Should have lied, I guess,” Vernon says with a shrug. He pours the shot and hands it over. You frown at it but knock it back, hiding your face back into Jihoon’s chest as soon as the shot glass is out of your hands. The game continues but Jihoon can only see you. 

“That was disgusting,” you say. 

“Tequila?” 

“Vodka,” you say. He wonders if he’d be able to taste it if he kisses you. The rational part of him thinks both of you don’t need to suffer the flavor but he can’t stop imagining it. 

“Let’s go find some snacks,” you whisper. You glare at Jeonghan and Vernon. “This game isn’t very much fun anymore.” 

“Come on,” he says, jumping up and holding out his hands for you. You take them and pull yourself up, linking your arms and leaning on him the entire way down the stairs instead of using the railing. Jihoon isn’t going to complain anytime soon, even when you reach the last step and continue to lean on him. 

In the kitchen, he finds a bowl of chips that you proceed to snatch off the table and hoard like a dragon with gold, except this gold is high in sodium and perfect for drunk munchies. Jihoon leans against the counter beside you, occasionally offering you a sip of water, content to stay like this as long as you want. 

A few minutes later, Jeonghan appears. 

“Ugh, I thought you two ran away to make out in a bathroom or something,” Jeonghan says. He tries to push some stray hair out of his face but ends up smacking himself in the face with the scissor fingers. Jihoon can’t tell if he’s disappointed or relieved that his prediction was wrong. 

“Gross,” you say. “And also none of your business.” 

“Whatever,” he says. “I’m leaving to go destroy the competition at Chanyeol’s party. Vernon’s watching him, but I think Soonyoung took another shot, so keep him away from the kitchen.” He glances at Jihoon. “It was nice to meet you.” 

“Bye Jeonghan,” you say in a sing-song voice. Jihoon doesn’t think the chips have done much to sober you up. He nods at Jeonghan, who salutes and disappears around the corner. 

“He didn’t try to steal my chips,” you say. “Suspicious.” 

“Does he normally?” 

“Trust no one,” you say, hugging the bowl. “My chips.” 

“Do you think he’s going to win?” 

“I hope so, he didn’t win last year and was really pissy. Or maybe it was because my ex boyfriend showed up and was saying all of this weird stuff and saying that I sleep around and accusing me of cheating.” You pause then cock your head at Jihoon. “Potato chip?” 

He doesn’t want a chip but he opens his mouth anyways and lets you feed him. It’s too salty and falls apart immediately but he smiles at you anyways. Jihoon wonders how anyone could ever say anything cruel about you. 

“You don’t deserve that,” Jihoon says. “I doubt I’m the first person to tell you this, but you aren’t… that.” 

“Yeah I know,” you say softly. “But thank you.” 

“Hey, you never asked what my costume is,” he says because it’s been quiet too long and he hates the sad look in your eyes. 

“That’s because it’s obvious,” you say. “You’re a boring lawyer who’s secretly really funny and nice but hides it behind layers of sarcasm and mean jokes. And a good friend.” You set down the bowl of potato chips. 

Jihoon tries to ignore the way his heart flips at the compliments. Is it too cheesy to say that you see through all of his bluff and bluster and see the real him? 

“Hang on.” You set down the bowl and lean close, eyes narrowing. You’re so close he can see the imperfections on your skin, each individual eyelash. Your breath mixes with his, the strong scent of vodka making his lip curl, but he doesn’t pull away, lost in studying the details of your face. His worst mistake is pausing at your lips. He can see the lipstick, see where it’s faded as the night progressed. He remembers how they felt pressed against his, and can’t help but blush when he realizes the lipstick probably smudged because of him. 

All he has to do is lean forward, just a little, and your lips would be against his again. Would you pull away? Or would you kiss him again, even though no one is watching? 

You raise your hand, resting it on his cheek, your bottom lip protruding as you focus. 

“Stay still,” you mutter, brushing your thumb just beneath his eye. Your touch is gentle, though rather forceful. He doesn’t think it’s on purpose, especially not after you raise your thumb and grin at him. 

“Make a wish!” You say. Your left hand falls on his shoulder to keep yourself steady. Jihoon’s hand falls automatically to your waist, trying to make sure you don’t topple him over. You brandish your thumb at him again. “Come on, make a wish!” 

“On your thumb?” 

“The eyelash, dummy,” you say, rolling your eyes. “Hurry, before it falls off my finger.” 

Jihoon doesn’t believe in superstitions. He never thought much about broken mirrors, and found black cats to be quite friendly. He’s never seen a shooting star, but he had serious doubts about a piece of space rock burning in the atmosphere’s ability to make a wish come true. 

If the cosmic power of a falling meteor isn’t enough to will his words into existence he knows there’s no logical reason to believe that blowing an eyelash will somehow succeed. But you’re waiting for him with that silly smile, the one that makes him forget to be logical and just do whatever it takes to keep you smiling. 

“What should I wish for?” He asks, speaking softly so that he doesn’t accidentally blow it away. 

“You can’t let me choose!” You cry. “Then it won’t come true!” You purse your lips together. “But you should wish for something that makes you happy. You should be happy.” 

I am happy, he thinks, but he doesn’t think drunk-you will believe him if he says it. He doesn’t think sober-you would believe him. But he is. Right now, in this moment, half-hugging you while you wait for him, the bright kitchen lights making everything shine. 

He is happy, when he’s with you, he realizes. Not just tonight, but any time you’re with him and his friends, or when you go on fake dates with him, or when you have lunch together at work. He is happy even when he thinks about you, remembering something funny you said, or when he sees something dumb (usually something Mingyu did), and immediately thinks about telling you. 

It’s you that makes him happy. 

Is that love? 

You’re still looking up at him, eyes wide and expectant, smile fading the longer it takes him. The pounding in his heart is familiar by now, but he wonders for the first time why his heart beats so hard when you’re near. It used to be nerves, but he’s gotten used to your presence, and has begun to even anticipate it. 

Webster’s dictionary defines love (the verb) as “to hold dear” (alternatively “to feel a lover’s passion, devotion, or tenderness for,” “to like or desire actively,” and “to thrive in” but Jihoon thinks the first definition is the most accurate). He looked it up a few weeks ago on a whim but the definition stuck with him. “To hold dear.” But what does that mean? It’s a subjective definition that doesn’t make sense to Jihoon. 

Fact 1: he thinks about you all the time. Fact 2: he’s nervous around you. Fact 3: he wants to kiss you, even when no one is around. And fact 4: when he tries to imagine wishing for his happiness, all he can think about is you. 

So, it’s love. 

Jihoon still has no idea what to wish for, but he blows the eyelash off your finger because it’s been way too long. He tries not to be reluctant when he lets go of your waist, settling for your shoulder pressed against his. He can tell you want to ask what he wished for. You keep peeking at him and wiggling your lips. 

Love. He never thought he could feel like this. It crept up on him before he realized it, drowning him without giving himself the chance to gasp for air. He’s in completely over his head but still, he smiles at you and feels his heart skip a beat every time you smile back. 

So Jihoon thinks what the hell. He follows you around because it’s the only thing he knows how to do, to the living room where a group of people he doesn’t recognize, smiling at jokes he doesn’t fully understand, then laughing when you whisper an explanation to him. He could do this for the rest of his life. 

At some point, he’s shoved beside you on the couch, arm around your shoulders, being told to smile. 

“Say cheese or something!” There’s a flash and Jihoon is blinded for a second. When the light fades away and his vision is restored, he turns to you and his smile doesn’t feel forced anymore. 

He’s vaguely aware of the door opening, a shouted hello. He’s too busy staring at you and studying the details of your face to pay attention to whoever might be coming. Until he hears his name. 

“Jihoon?” Joshua repeats. Jihoon jumps, whipping around. 

Joshua stands in the middle of the room, frozen staring at Jihoon. He looks ridiculous, wearing a white lab coat and scrubs, a scalpel in his off hand. Soonyoung is at his side, somehow not drunk enough to miss the tension between Jihoon and Joshua, frowning between both of them. 

Jihoon can see it all slipping away. Even though your hand is still in his, he can already feel that you’re gone. That’s when he remembers the obvious truth: you were never there to begin with. He was an idiot to ever think he could have it. Any of it. This is what Jihoon’s life is, the illusion of truth that never lasts. 

He looks at you one last time. The black fabric of your costume has gotten rather dusty from sitting on the floor and there’s white feathers stuck to your shoulder from being next to the “angel” in the picture. You’re better at hiding your surprise, still managing to smile, even as you lean against his shoulder and whisper, “And just like that I’m sober.” 

“What are you doing here?” Joshua asks. 

“I should be asking you that,” Jihoon says. 

“Right, you’re dating yn,” Joshua says. “Why aren’t you wearing a costume?” 

“Why are you dressed like a doctor when you dropped out of med school?” 

“Okay, first of all, I’m obviously a coroner, I don’t have a stethoscope,” he says. “Second of all, rude.” 

Joshua takes the cushion on the other side of you, Soonyoung attempting to balance on the arm before giving up and laying on the floor. 

“Like I said,” Soonyoung says. He knocks his leg against Jihoon. “Yn finally found a boyfriend that isn’t deadbeat.” Everything in Jihoon is screaming at him to run but he’s frozen in place while he listens to the end of everything. 

Joshua laughs. “I don’t know about that, Jihoon did take forever to finally admit he has feelings.” 

“Does it matter how it started?” Soonyoung asks, struggling to sit up. “It’s clear they are happy and in love now.” 

“We are right here,” Jihoon says. Unsurprisingly, he’s ignored. 

“You’re right,” Joshua says. “Still, we should throw a party for their first anniversary.” 

“Yes!” Soonyoung cries. “Wait, but we’re already three months late.” 

Jihoon glances at you and you squeeze his hand. He tries to think of something to say, anything to salvage this but looking into your eyes, he knows that it’s over. It’s beyond time for the truth. 

“Joshua,” he says, “I have to tell you something.”

#seventeen x reader #woozi x reader #svt x reader #svt #seventeen #woozi #lee jihoon x reader #lee Jihoon #woozi angst #woozi fluff #lee jihoon angst #lee jihoon fluff #seventeen fluff #seventeen angst #seventeen fic #as a matter of fact

[alexiswritingstuff]

For him.

Pairing: Gustavo Fring x gn! reader.

Summary: A run in with a rival business ended with a friend of the readers being sent to hospital, all because of one mistake. A situation that a certain Fring is seemingly trying to pretend didn’t happen. But why?

Content: hurt/comfort.

Warnings: mentions of violence. Descriptions of blood. 

Also be aware that there might be spelling mistakes and such. I go over my fics like a million times but things still managed to slip under the radar.

A/N: I finished watching Better Call Saul and this mf was the only thing on my mind. Again. There is such a low amount of fics with this dude, so I wanted to help change that.

Like I say almost every time I try writing for a different character, please be aware that I might not accurately depict them on the first try. There might be parts where they don’t capture the way Gus would actually react, so keep that in mind.

Here is my attempt! I hope you enjoy.

More Gustavo fics.

The dark of night consumed almost everything that could be seen through the window of your car, despite the few streetlights that put up a fight.

It was silent. Enough so that you could hear the blood rampant through your veins, and the heartbeat that was anything but steady within the confined space of your chest.

The scene played in front of your eyes once again until you squeezed them shut as if it would simply rid them of the images. Your fingers grasped onto the steering wheel, the colour of your knuckles slowly fading white.

It was one mistake. A singular phrasing of a sentence that could’ve easily been avoided. But Gustavo got comfortable. 

Too used to winning the game of intimidation that he forgot what happened if he made the wrong move.  

He messed up.

Your friend was close to death. The ambulance that wailed instead of you had pulled away minutes ago, and with it seemed to take your ability to function.

You could still hear it. See it. Even feel it as some of the blood had splattered, seeped into the fabric of your clothes. All things combined made you helpless.

When it had happened, everyone had their guns on at least someone. Something that meant that no one could make a move. You couldn’t shield your friend or take their place unless you wanted numerous bullets to tear through your flesh in seconds.

All you could do was watch. And watch you did.

The sound of the door handle clicking had your head snapping towards the passenger side immediately, the fingers of one hand hovering, ready, over the gun that had apparently been jabbing into your side.

Though, as soon as your eyes caught onto that damn suit, you regained your previous position. Quick enough that the person joining you wouldn’t have known that you had even moved in the first place.

He bent in, settling himself into the car seat until he could close the door. Engulfing the air in this new silence that was yet to bring you a form of comfort. 

The man cleared his throat, but even then there were no words that followed. So, too exhausted to pick a fight, you kept quiet too, staring forward though there was nothing to really look at.

You could feel the exact moment the extra pair of eyes landed on you, feel the countless things he wanted to say swimming through them regardless of the fact that you weren’t even looking. 

But you just wanted him to out and say it.

You needed it.

“That wasn’t... how that was supposed to go.” Gus had began, his body leaning further into the seat beneath him. “Do you know what hospital they are going to?” Your arms slowly crossed over your chest, a sigh seeping through your lips as you turned to the window to your left. “Uh-huh.”

“Good.”

You almost rolled your eyes.

Good.

That’s it? That’s all he had to say? He almost got your friend killed and that was all he was going to give you?

“This is going to set us back, but if we get right to it tomorrow we should be able to make up for it.”

The first portion of that sentence had your head turning towards him in seconds, but by the time he was finished your eyebrows were practically furrowed as much as they possibly could. “Are you serious?”

Gustavo met your eyes simply. The expression on his face almost made him look innocent. Like he hadn’t just put someone in hospital, even if it wasn’t directly his fault. “Of course.”

“Why wouldn’t I be?”

The rage that filtered through your body was something that didn’t go unnoticed by the man beside you. So, when your arm had reached in that direction, he had half expected to feel a stinging sensation within the next second, or something similar.

But all he felt was a cool breeze on the other side of his face after a click echoed through the car. And as soon as you were sat back again, your head already turned away from his, he realised.

You had opened his door.

“Go,” was all that could leave your mouth in that moment, and even then Gustavo could hear the attempt at concealing the anger rich in your bones. 

So, he cleared his throat, taking one last glance in your direction before he stared right ahead like you had done before. 

His body straightened as he swallowed back his response, one of his hands lightly patting at his leg when he stomached that you weren’t going to change your mind.

He really messed up.

With that being that, Gustavo got up. He pushed himself out of the car seat and after the sound of shoes grinding against the layer of gravel that covered the ground of where you had parked.

The door was shut behind him.

~~~

There was no way to tell how much time had gone by. You didn’t look. Too busy just driving for who knows how long.

At some point, however, and after an annoying internal fight, you did ended up making the decision to go back to your home, a journey that made your realise just how tuckered out your body was.

Upon arrival, the lights at the front of the house were already on. Lightly buzzing from where they were placed on either side of the door, as if they had been expected your presence.

The cool night air did nothing for the warmth of your skin once out of the car, especially with the layers you had on. Your hand reached into your pocket, fingers shuffling through the compartment for your set of keys as you moved onto the walkway to the house.

The situation from earlier had your brain jumbled enough that you seemed to have forgotten to do your regular check as you got closer to the door.

Whenever meetups went sideways you would always make sure that there was no one else, unexpected, at the house. You would look for any tracking or listening devices that could’ve been planted, just anything that could signify the presence of someone unwanted.

So, when you got to the door, unlocked it and took a step inside, there wasn’t a word to describe the feeling when this sudden scent of food hit your nostrils.

More so because, again, you knew exactly who it was.

The energy to respond to that said fact had dissipated a long time ago, thus, instead, you found yourself moving to the coat hangers, slowly peeling the jacket that clung to your body.

Once off, it was held in your hands for a moment, your fingers placed careful enough to avoid the crusted splatters of blood. And then you let it fall. Watching as it turned into a crumple on the floor.

Gustavo was a neat man. He always had specific things placed in precise locations, and kept many items nice and clean regardless of the amount of times he actually used them.

So, in spite, and instead of taking the dirty jacket to the laundry room, you just left there. On the floor. You even kicked it into the corner right beside the door to see how long it would take him to notice it... 

But you did in fact decided to take your shoes off.

Finally, after all of your... shenanigans, you moved forward, your eyes beginning to adjust to the new lighting as you followed the scent that was so close to making your stomach rumble.

“Ah, there you are.” Gustavo had called upon noticing your frame appear from the hallway. It was scary how fast he could spot you sometimes. “I was beginning to think that you weren’t coming home.”

You sort of stood there awkwardly, taking in the pots and pans hot on the stove, and the plethora of vegetables that sat next to the chopping board. 

“Well. I hope you’re hungry.” Gustavo took a few of the veggies and turned on a tap, beginning to rinse them one by one to make sure they were nice and clean. “There isn’t a plan for this meal. I just wanted to use up some things from the fridge.”

You started to move further into the room, encompassed by the smell of the meat frying in the pan in a way that made you almost forget why and what you were mad at.

“You are hungry, yes?” Gus questioned right as you rounded the first row of counters and you cleared your throat, trying to respond as dryly as possible, “Sort of.” A smile pressed onto his lips. “Good.”

As the man moved towards the chopping board, you found yourself stopping right on the other side of it. Just watching.

The way Gus approached cooking had always fascinated you since the first time he had shown you such a skill. The way he did it, or talked about it, even when he was simply picking out the ingredients to use. It was full of passion.

He pulled a knife out of the wooden holder, a kind that always shocked you on how large it grew, and steadied a pre peeled garlic clove on the chopping board with his other hand. “For this, I’m going to cut it like I would for Paila Marina.” He hovered the sharpest part of the blade above the clove, “Do you remember how?”

Your eyes lifted from his hands, trailing up until they were met with the ones that were already staring right back. You straightened your spin. A breath sucked through your nose as your arms crossed over your chest.

“You mince it.”

Gus’s head nodded in an instant. His gaze fell back to the garlic he had now began to chop, that same smile from earlier making an appearance. “The Chorizo in the pan. I don’t want it to burn while I prep the vegetables.”

“Do you mind?” This time he hadn’t even spared a glance in your direction. He just chopped away, the sound of the knife ringing in your ears every time it hit the board beneath it.

You wanted to be mad. Wanted to yell at him for ignoring what had happened. Wanted to shout at him for not admitting that he was at fault, or at least make him prove that he felt something towards the fact that one of his workers was now injured.

But as shameful as it made you feel... you were pretty hungry. Fixing that with burnt Chorizo probably wouldn’t do the trick. “Sure.”

Finally, you moved round the second row of counters, a lump slowly forming in your throat as you were now on the exact same side as Gus. You walked passed him, catching a whiff of his scent, mixed with the various other ones, that tugged the crack in your anger further.

By now, you were stood in front of the stove, a spatula in hand as you flipped over the cut up sausages again, and again when you thought the time was right.

The longer you looked at them, and glanced into the pot beside it, that had what looked like a form of stew, the more you wanted to just scoop it into your mouth even though it would’ve severely hurt.

It left you constantly salivating.

Out of nowhere, a certain Fring appeared to your side, various vegetables cut evenly, in their respective ways, across the chopping board.

You moved to the side in an instant, hearing the man hum a thank you before he slightly tilted the board, dispersing the chopped veg between the pot and the sizzling chorizo.

He was close. You could smell him again, stronger this time. Despite the man he was, the things he did day to day despite the consequences. It was comforting. He was comforting. You wanted to breathe him in until he was all you could smell.

But you were mad at him.

Gus must have felt you staring at him. “Is there something you need?” he questioned, his voice switching to one softer as he folded the food together, ensuring that the flavour would be at its full potential.

“Hmm?” you responded after a second, only now just realising that you had been stuck in a trance. “Uh… Nothing, I just… I’m tired— I’m going to sit down.” you explained, swallowing down the new feeling as you began to move away.

Gus turned to look at you, an unreadable expression showing for a split second before that smile pressed at his lips. 

And then he focused back on the food, reaching for a dial so that he could lower the heat. “Of course.”

“Dinner will be ready soon.”

~

The last spoonful of the unnamed meal was brought to Gustavo’s lips. He sighed almost immediately, his body properly relaxing into the chair he sat on, as he savoured the tastes with his eyes closed. “Now that was much better than I expected.”

You, who was sat on the other side of the table merely hummed in response, toying with the metal spoon loosely grasped between your fingers.

Gustavo opened his eyes again, the look of content halting across his features as he lowered his head to get you back in his view. “Was it to your liking?” 

This time, even after a direct question, there wasn’t even a sound in response.

The longer he waited the more the silence had grown. Gustavo slowly put his spoon on the mat beneath his bowl, nudging it slightly so that it would get into its rightful position.

His hands folded together against the table just in front of his bowl.

“Y/n?”

“Hmm?” you finally answered with a few blinks, the cutlery in your hand almost dropping when your brain had allowed you back into existence, “Oh,” You found Gustavo’s dark eyes that almost held no colour, even in the light, “Yeah-- Yes, it was very nice.”

Your gaze had moved down to your bowl, eager to avoid the attention given in a way that had you finding refuge in the stains that trailed across your tableware, eyeing the sauce remnants like you were trying to find something.

“Well. I’m glad.” Gus had stated, trying to gage whether you had gotten lost again, and his answer was given when there was only another hum in response.

He watched you for a moment, waiting for at least some kind of movement, or sound that would fall from your lips to further prevent what he knew was bound to come.

But there was nothing.

You were just sat still, as though you were a statue.

Gustavo reached for his glass, taking in a quick breath before he brought it to this lips. He took a swig of the liquid and then returned it to its coaster, feeling the drink filter a coolness through his warm body.

“Is there something you wish to speak about?”

In this instance, your eyes had moved within seconds. They met with the ones they had previously been trying to avoid. Almost like a challenge in response to his phrasing. Again. You swallowed.

“Is there anything you wish to speak about?” you repeated, choosing a specific tone that had Gustavo mildly tilting his head. His eyebrows furrowed just a bit as he attempted to show a confused smile across his lips, “What do you mean?”

“There wasn’t anything that bothered you today?” Your words started as soon as he had finished his sentence, the blood in your system warming like water in a heated pot. “Anything at all?”

Gustavo’s smile faltered, and when he spoke his voice was finally back to the usual one he had when he felt intimidated. “I’m just trying to have a conversation, I do not understand why you are acting like this.”

Your lips curled in a humourless way, a hushed scoff huffing through it, as your head shook with disbelief. “You know what? Forget it.” you had began, placing your cutlery down without care, “I’m going to bed.”

“Y/n.”

“Goodnight, Gustavo.” You pushed your chair back so that your legs could escape from underneath the table, and then you stood. Fring watched your every move, eyes almost wide as he did so, “Wait, Y/n, I--”

“Night.” You didn’t even glance back, beginning to make your way through the living area. But just as there was about to more steps taken, you heard the sound of chair legs harshly scraping across the wooden floor. 

“I said wait!”

Your legs froze despite your want to keep moving. You were between the initial row of counter tops and the back of the couch, the material smooth against your fingertips when you had reached your hand out to rest on it.

You could hear the breath that Gustavo took in through his nose. Either an attempt to calm himself down, or an act in relief that you complied to his words. Though, none of it mattered to you.

“I do understand.” His voice was almost quiet. A reluctant sound that mimicked a child when they were in trouble. Your head rose a smidge, but you gave him no reaction.

So, he continued, “I think I know why you’re... upset.” He was walking on already broken glass, and he knew it, although it still didn’t seem to help his phrasing.

Your head tilted slightly, your gaze narrowing even if it wasn’t directed at your target of annoyance. “You think?”

“Y/n, you have to believe that it wasn’t my intention for that to happen.”

It?

That?

Still. After everything, he couldn’t even address the problem? Seriously?

Within the next few seconds, your foot had slid back to allow your body the ability to properly twist to the side. Your eyes trailed as you moved, landing on anything in your field of view before they finally settled on that dark pair all over again.

Though the rage was most definitely present, you held none of it on your face. It didn’t even twitch. “Whether it was, or wasn’t, doesn’t exactly matter to me anymore, Gustavo.”

He held his arms out, a look of exasperation taking over his features before his hands smacked back against the side of his thighs, “Then what is this problem that you have?”

Now was when your body officially turned, “What is the--” you started to repeat, though the disbelief hit before you could finish, “You know what?” Your head shook, “You.”

“You are the problem.” 

The attempt at walking away, at trying to remain calm, had ended with nothing but rage that felt as if it was a volcano ready to erupt. Gustavo didn’t move an inch. “Today.”

“Earlier today, in case you’ve forgotten, my friend almost died.” you laid out, the words that fell from your mouth one after the other feeling like equal jabs to his side. “I saw you. I watched your face when it happened and there was nothing-- You said nothing.”

Gustavo’s mask appeared again. This hopeful, though desperate, smile took over his lips, “Y/n, come on.” he began, eager to rid the tense mood that hung like grey clouds. “There was guns pointed at us from every direction. We couldn’t have acted, you know this--”

“But that doesn’t mean that you can then just ignore it afterwards.” you insisted frustratedly, still not understanding his previous actions even after having hours to try, “Just because... they don’t matter to you, that doesn’t mean that--”

“They are my employee.” Gus reminded, the look on his face showing almost disgust at your statement, but anger was clouding your perceptual abilities. You took a step forward, pointing a finger at your chest, “And they are my friend.”

“A person that was close to death and is now sat in a hospital, do you remember why that is, huh?”

Gustavo’s chin had lowered. His eyes were peering over his glasses, and right into your soul, while the creases in his face deepened with everything that he felt, “Watch your words.”

His voice was deep. Gravelly. Almost exactly like the one he would usually use when talking to a person he didn’t particularly like. An enemy. You could only shake your head.

“What, like you did yours?”

The two of you were just stood there. This entire day had been a series of unknown miscommunications. And now there was a light. A shared feeling throughout the argument.

Why did it have to be hateful?

It felt like hours had gone by the time there was finally some kind of a movement, breaking the unoffical stand off.

Gustavo took in a breath, his chest expanding as it slowly filled his lungs. His shoulders slightly sunk, though his head remained high. “I told you.”

“I didn’t mean for any of this to happen.”

You bit at your bottom lip, looking back and forth between those eyes of his before, your own shoulders were the next to lower. Your head was lightly nodding. “Goodnight.” 

You turned to leave, covering about three steps worth of ground until his voice echoed through your ears as if he had said them in the middle of a church. “They are all right.”

There you were again, looking over your shoulder to find the man through the room. “And what is that supposed to mean?”

“Your friend.” he clarified, even taking a step away from the table, though he didn’t dare to move any closer. As if it would solidify your decision to leave. “They are doing fine.”

Your eyes narrowed like they had done not that long ago. Except this time it wasn’t done as a challenge. It was disbelief. Uncertainty. “And how do you know that?

Gustavo could do or say anything when it came to getting his way, so this could sure as hell just be another trick. 

That was the first and only thing to make him break eye contact. And though it wasn’t visible to your eyes, Gustavo had gulped in a way that almost made a sound. His mouth ran dry, “I checked.”

“Before I came here. I was at the hospital.” he continued after an attempt to clear his throat, the lack of response from you doing nothing for the feeling that surged through him.

But Gustavo never got nervous.

Right?

His head suddenly raised in a way that made you want to take a step back, his eyes wide enough that you could clearly see the stuff that swirled within. “They are alive. Conscious...Though, the doctors said that they were going to need a good amount of rest for the damage.”

It had taken you a moment to find your voice.

The past few hours had been spent by you aimlessly driving around. An attempt to clear that thing called a brain. But during that Gustavo, the man you had been mad at for most of the day, had taken the time to see how your friend was doing.

You hadn’t even gone with them to the hospital when the ambulance arrived.

It was almost as if your eyelids had forgotten how to blink. “You... went to see them.” you rounded up, swallowing thickly. Gustavo gave a simple nod.

There was no number to correctly depict the amount of shame you felt. And apparently it was a noticeable factor as Gus’s tense expression, though only slightly, seemed to ease. “Now do you see that I wasn’t trying to pretend? Ignore what had happened?”

Your shoulders sank again, exhaustion beginning to introduce itself once again, “Then what was all this, Gus?” you questioned, gesturing towards the remnants of the dinner he had prepared just for you. “And in the car? Immediately talking about what comes next-- I mean, I know how this business works, but--”

“It could’ve been you.”

The next words you were about to say hung onto your tongue, your gaze returning to the man before you, “What?” 

Gustavo swallowed. And this time you saw it.

“It...” The muscles throughout his face twitched in a way that rippled over his skin from one side to the other in a matter of seconds. His mouth opened, a sharp breath sucking in while his eyes found refuge in the floor. “If it wasn’t your friend, it would’ve been you that ended up in that hospital.”

“So?” you questioned, your voice almost coming out as a whisper before adding, “It could’ve been you too.” But Gustavo’s head had begun shaking within seconds, “No, you don’t understand.”

The insistence, the way his hand pressed onto the cool surface of the dinner table like it was the only thing keeping him there. It had your eyes purely stuck on him. Watching. Analysing every little detail.

What were you missing?

“Then tell me.” Your eyebrows were begging to pinch together. The anger you had felt earlier was now completely fizzled out as a wave of something else took its place.

Gustavo looked up, following your voice like you had done with the smell of his cooking earlier, and after about a second of looking into your eyes. He could breathe again.

His hand slid back from the table, his spine slowly uncurling as he made himself stand tall. Stand like Gustavo Fring. The man who had lost too much to fear. Too much to hiding. Too much.

“I lost... my previous partner.” Gus stared into your eyes. It was unknown if it was to se your reaction, or to watch for the moment you had processed his words. Though, within the next second his gaze lowered. Unfocused. “I knew that if I reacted... you could’ve been the next target.”

“Today, I wasn’t pretending.” he continued, not even letting you get a word out. But in all honestly, it felt like you couldn’t even part your lips if you wanted to. “I just needed to stop thinking about it.”

“I became obsessed with that possibility, because... that meant that I... I cared. I care. Again.” All the tension that had consumed his voice had faded the more the words came, until all he could do was take in a breath. 

“I’m sorry, Y/n.”

It had gone silent. This time, there wasn’t the sound of cutlery scrapping against ceramics as you ate. Not even the sound of your heartbeat, or the world outside. It was just the two of you.

And finally, the man that stood in front of you, with a mask yearning to crack, was not in fact the notorious Gustavo Fring. It was just Gus.

Your partner.

Your feet had acted before your brain could process the decision, the sound of your shoes being the only thing that filled the still house.

And then you stopped, taking your place in front of the man who hadn’t looked broken the collective gaze. Not even once.

Your eyes flickered between his as if they were the most delicate things in the world, and you even tilted your head to the side when the glare from a light hit his glasses in a way that hid his pupils.

Now you could hear your heartbeat. A sound that pounded, and grew faster when your hand slowly raised from your side.

You knew who this man was. You knew what he had done to others. The plans he had made, regardless of what became of people who just so happened to get in the way. And yet still, you completed your movement with ease.

Your fingers touched down on the skin of his cheek, and slowly slid until it was sat against the palm of your hand. The muscles were stiff in such a way that you could tell that he had clenched his jaw. He was frozen in place.

“I’m right here, Gustavo.” was all you said, looking into the eyes that almost wildly flickered between your own as if he couldn’t understand what he was seeing. Couldn’t believe.

Though, when you had smiled. When he watched your lips begin to curl inch by inch until it was fully there, put on display just for him. The final cog had turned in his head. The feeling of fear had dissipated.

He didn’t want to run.

Gustavo took in a breath. One that almost wavered as it went through his nose. 

And then he shut his eyes, his head leaning just a tad further into your hand to the point that the frame of his glasses started to tilt when it reached the tip of your fingers. Because he knew.

He knew that by the time his eyes were once again open. You would be right there waiting.

Just for him.

#gustavo fring #gus fring #gustavo fring x reader #gus fring x reader #gustavo fring x gn reader #gender neutral reader #breaking bad #breaking bad x reader #better call saul #better call saul x reader #hurt/comfort

[thalassomania]

what is “what happens next” about if you don’t mind me asking? :)

i've been sitting on this ask for a while now because WHERE! DO I! BEGIN!!!!

ok. so. what happens next is a currently ongoing webcomic by max graves, beginning late in 2021. it is a story told in multiple chapters about multiple characters, but one could argue that its protagonist is milo holliday. milo is a trans man, pastel blogger, toy customizer... and accomplice to a murder.

one of the first panels of the comic is a screenshot of the dni page on milo's tumblr, which got me IMMEDIATELY interested in the comic because it's such a unique way of storytelling:

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and we get a lot more pages like this that are screenshots of websites, social media profiles, and the like. the comic is a mixture of in-person interactions, online communication, and occasional flashbacks, all of which are important pieces of the story.

so when they were teenagers, milo's best friend griffin petty killed two people, and milo helped mutilate one of the bodies. while griffin was sent to prison, milo spent years in a psychiatric institution that stunted his emotional growth and forever altered his view of the world. a drawing he makes while institutionalized provides a window into milo's perceptions of the event:

[image description available for the above]

the whole comic is an uncomfortably accurate reflection of mid-2010s tumblr culture, right down to the sanrio traumacore and crytyping. milo's suffering is multifaceted: in reference to the people harassing him online, he says "it doesn't feel like they hate me for what i did... it feels like they hate me for the way i am," referring to his being an autistic trans man. and given that many of his detractors seem to come from sites like kiwifarms (notorious for its transphobia and ableism), he isn't entirely wrong! but at the same time, his relentless depictions of himself as the victim erase his contributions to haylie's death and the ways he's made himself and others' problems worse.

not every part of the comic is about milo, though! i'm only scratching the surface of it here: all of those pages and links are for the first part, titled "dog names." in the second part, "someone else," we're introduced to gage ludemann, a gore blogger and true crime fan who has entered a long-distance relationship with griffin, and once again, screenshots are used to masterful effect:

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but screenshots and characters' drawings are one thing, and max's art is another. starting in the third part, "no matter what," panels are shown in full color, and his color choices are great. what i really love, though, is the amount of detail max puts into character design and facial expressions. i could show you so many different panels that i think show off max's art, but i'll try to narrow it down to one:

[image description available for the above]

soooo yeah!! i have SO MANY THOUGHTS about this webcomic and i keep trying to get close friends to read it, haha. i've read a lot of webcomics and i can say with certainty that there is NOTHING out there quite like what happens next. it's a story about true crime fanaticism, psychological trauma, social media presences, existing as a transgender person, and so much more. the comic is currently on its fifth part, "you'll all be sorry," which seems to be about the characters vikki escamilla and xandra blumberg. if you decide to check it out please feel free to tell me all about it! i'm not connected to the comic at all, but i really love it and i think everything about it is just fascinating.

and max graves, if you're somehow reading this... hiiiiii i'm a huge fan!!! love your work!!! i hope i've represented it at least somewhat accurately here!

@kukai

#what happens next #whn #txt #ask #russell talks #russell does stuff #text heavy #kukai #untagged otherwise #i hope i did the image ids alright! i've hardly ever done them before #ok to reblog