#except they aren't even father and son anymore

[quicksllver]

let pietro and erik talk i swear i had enough

#pietro maximoff #erik lehnsherr #x-men #marvel #his sisters are finally communicating and sorting their relationships #while my boy is stuck in daddy issues hell #except they aren't even father and son anymore #or does the bond stay despite lack of blood ties #going insane retcon the retcon already #*mine

[onlyhuis]

leaning on the everlasting arms

member | childhood best friend! pastor's son!joshua x f reader genre | angst, smut, some fluff, bible college au word count | 10.3k (my first fic over 10k wowie!!) synopsis | as kids growing up in the same church, you and joshua were inseperable, until you got to an age where it was considered immoral for girls and boys to be friends. when you find him again just before graduation, he's different than you remember; but so are you. content warnings | female reader, she/her, reader is implied to be smaller (i'm sorry), discussion of gender roles & religion, no religion is mentioned by name but it's heavily implied to be a form of christianity, reader & shua are both seniors in college, reader wears skirts/dresses but not really by choice, this whole thing is pretty blasphemous oops smut warnings | descriptions of female anatomy, virgin!joshua x virgin!reader, mutual masturbation, phone sex, unprotected sex, fingering, oral (reader receiving), hints of a voice kink, size kink, praise, begging, really vanilla missionary but it's hot, nicknames (sweetheart, baby, angel) notes | although i am no longer religious, this is partially based off of my own experiences with the extremely traditional christian church i was raised in. however, please keep in mind that this is fiction and does not reflect my beliefs nor joshua's beliefs so don't take the plot too seriously. this piece is not meant to discuss whether certain religions are "right" or "wrong" so please do not comment/send me asks trying to start a debate! we're all just here for a little sexy time with shua it's not that deep note #2 | for those who aren't familiar, the title is the name of a hymn and i thought it was funny bc joshua big sexy arms hehehe

as far back as you could remember, joshua was your closest friend.

his father was the pastor of the church your family went to, and as luck would have it you were both in the same grade, so it wasn’t long before you became inseparable. you saw him at minimum three times a week: sunday morning, sunday evening, wednesday evening.

you spent most of your childhood together. sitting next to each other at every service, sharing your bibles with each other whenever one of you left them at home, sneaking donuts away from the box at the table outside the sermon hall that was supposed to only be for the adults.

you did everything together, and told each other everything. that is, until you reached middle school. boys and girls weren’t allowed to sit in the same services anymore, and you had to stay in separate buildings for every church camp and conference. 

the worst part was you didn’t even understand why. what did they think you were gonna do with him? kiss him? no amount of money in the world could get you to do that! joshua was your best friend. who else were you supposed to climb trees and build forts and sneak donuts with? kissing was stupid.

when you asked your mom about it, she told you the same thing everyone else did: about how men of god had a different path and needed to hear different messages in order to grow up to lead their own churches one day. you thought it was stupid. what if a woman wanted to lead a church, why are men the ones that have to do it? but she would just shake her head and tell you it's just the way things work in the church, you'll understand when you're older.

you were allowed near him less and less until the only time you were able to see him was at the after-service brunch with his family, and even then that began to happen less and less as the years went on.

and of course it was church rules, so there was no arguing with them because that would mean arguing with god, and who were you to question his authority? there would be no special exception for you, no matter how much you protested to your mom that you would never, ever think about joshua like that. in a fit of anger one day you blew up at her, shouting that she had had friends of the opposite gender when she was in high school, so why couldn’t you? it wasn’t fair. but she had just sighed and stared out the window, clearly ending the conversation. many years passed before she finally told you about her life before she came to church, recalling all the times she had been hurt by men she had loved and trusted. you understood then why she had wanted to keep you sheltered and safe, but you still didn’t agree. but then again, if you had been allowed to do what you wanted then maybe things would never have ended up the way they did. perhaps you have her to thank.

back then, all you could do was hold on to the little time you had with him until eventually you stopped seeing him altogether. 

more summers passed and you started spending all of your time memorizing bible verses with your fellow “women of christ”, missing the way you used to spend your time with your best friend.

but then you went off to bible college like had always been planned for you, and everything changed. instead of continuing to follow the strict schedule that was laid out for you, you finally got a little taste of freedom, and you realized what you’d been missing all this time. everything that you’d been taught was sinful, evil, wicked, was what brought you more pleasure than you’d ever known was possible.

you still had to pretend to be a good girl for the people around you, who, for reasons you couldn’t comprehend, were still dedicated to their life of purity. or at least they acted like it. maybe everyone was secretly just like you, hiding their sins behind a friendly smile and a firm handshake every sunday morning.

you weren’t hurting anyone with the things you did in private, and the feeling of rebellion was a kind of satisfaction you didn’t know you were allowed to feel. you were an adult, making your own choices now and facing whatever consequences that came with them.

there was only one consequence. for some reason, all the impure thoughts you had always centered around joshua. no matter what dirty books you read or videos you watched, the man you always pictured giving it to you was joshua.

you hated that after all these years, everything still came back to him. you fought it, tried imagining actors or celebrities in his place instead; characters from your books and movies and shows, anyone but him. you wanted to save whatever memories you had left of him, think of him in a good light like you used to when you were younger, but the way he plagued your mind was worse than the ones in the book of exodus.

but now, in your final year of college, you thought you had finally gotten yourself under control.

that is, until you were leaving one of your bible lectures and all the control you’d convinced yourself that you had crumbled away in mere seconds when you saw a startlingly familiar face standing by the door. a face you hadn’t seen in far too long. 

“joshua?”

“hey,” he says with a smile, like no time has passed at all. like it’s been hours since you’ve seen each other, not years. 

there are so many things you want to say, so many things you want to ask him, but you’re frozen in place. why is he here? where has he been? how did he find you again?

“it’s been a while,” he says with an awkward laugh when you don’t say anything.

you nod, still in a daze. “yeah. quite a while.”

he smiles. “well, anyway, i’ve got a meeting to go to in a bit, but… i just wanted to see you.”

“oh,” you say. what else is there to say? what can you say to make up for the years lost that you’ll never get back?

he looks at his watch, the conversation clearly coming to an end.

“can i give you my phone number?” he says. a deep shade of pink creeps into his cheeks but he either doesn’t notice or purposely doesn’t acknowledge it. “maybe we can talk sometime, catch up.”

“i– yeah,” you manage. god, it’s so good seeing him again. “yeah, that would be really nice.”

you’ve given up on homework for the night, spending your entire afternoon in a daze since you ran into joshua.

so many years, yet you still can’t get his smile out of your head.

you close your eyes, hand dipping below the waistband of your pajama pants automatically. it’s frightening how easily you’re able to bring up a picture of him in your mind, so much clearer than before now that you’ve seen what he looks like all grown up.

and grown up, he has. you had been too stunned to get a good look at him while he was in front of you, but the way he’d changed was immediately apparent and the image in your brain now feels almost unreal. 

his hair was a little longer and a little darker, and he was much taller, with broad shoulders that looked way too perfect in a suit jacket. but his face hadn’t changed a bit. maybe his jaw was a little bit sharper and his smile lines were a little bit deeper, but his eyes were the same ones you had always known. 

your hand slips lower and lower until you’re gently running the tips of your fingers over the panel of your underwear covering your pussy, moaning quietly when you feel how wet you are already.

no wonder it’s been so hard for you to focus all day. you’ve been too busy pushing away thoughts of joshua burying his fingers in your tight, wet cunt, cooing about how good you’re being for him and how long he’s waited for you.

automatically you feel your other hand grabbing for your phone, desperate to hear his voice again. you hadn’t said more than a few sentences to him earlier, but you feel like you’ll go crazy if you don’t hear him while you’re in this state. so needy for him and only him, and he doesn’t even know it.

your fingers shake as you press the buttons, knowing you’re about to get yourself into a whole world of trouble but not being able to stop yourself.

“hey.” he answers on the second ring. his tone is deep and husky, and your breath catches in your throat for a second, not used to hearing him talk like that; the last time you heard his voice was long before puberty, and you’re still navigating how to talk to this older, sexier joshua.

your first thought is to wonder if his morning voice sounds equally as sexy, but you’re immediately pushing it out of your head when you hear what sounds like him stifling a yawn.

“sorry, did i wake you? it– it’s not important,” you start, ashamed of how needy you are that you’d call him in the middle of the damn night, unprovoked, like some kind of bible group booty call.

the regret is already starting to set in. he probably hasn’t changed as much as you've built him up in your mind, probably still the obedient gentleman he was before. he’s probably already well on his way to being the head of a church, so of course he wouldn’t be thinking about you like that—

“no. it’s fine,” he says, interrupting your thoughts. “always have time for you, sweetheart. what’s up?”

you shove down the butterflies that flutter up in your stomach at the name he calls you, a nickname he always called you when you were kids because he was taught it was always polite to talk sweet to a lady. 

except it feels so much different now. talking sweet to a lady as kids was easy, innocent. but one wrong word now would completely change the meaning behind those pretty words of his, and you aren’t sure how to feel about it.

“i… just– it’s been so long, joshie,” you whisper, surprised at the sudden feeling of tears springing up behind your eyes. you didn’t mean for this to happen— you didn’t mean for any of it to happen. not back then, and certainly not now.

he lets the line go quiet, finally sighing into the phone after a long pause. “i missed you… so much.” he murmurs your name, and the way the rumble in his voice goes straight through you immediately reminds you why you called him in the first place.

your free hand toys with the hem of your underwear again, fighting to keep down the whimper that threatens to escape you. “missed you too,” you breathe out. god, you can’t believe you’re doing this. but for the first time in years, the man you’ve been picturing in your head is right here with you, fulfilling some of your fantasies that you never thought could ever come true.

somewhere deep in your stomach you feel guilty about it, getting off to the thought of him and he doesn’t even know it. would he want to know? would he be okay with it? would he hate you forever if he knew?

he clears his throat, snapping you back to attention and you realize you must’ve been silent for a while, thinking.

“um, so, what are you doing?” you ask, trying to seem casual, but it comes out as anything but. nobody calls anyone this late at night and asks what they’re doing without having a dirty reason for doing so. 

all you can do is hope he’s either too innocent to pick up on it, or that he doesn’t believe you’re the type of person who would call for something like that. you wonder if he still thinks of you as that perfect little obedient church girl he grew up with.

“nothing, just–working on… stuff,” he replies awkwardly. clearly he doesn’t want to go into detail about what he’s doing, and you’re already afraid you’ve interrupted his sleep; you’re mentally kicking yourself for all the blunders you’ve made, and you haven’t even been on the phone for five minutes.

“what are you doing?” he asks back, and you freeze, trying to come up with some excuse, anything. fuck, think of something!

“h-homework,” you sputter out, attempting to hide your unconfident answer with a cough.

apparently it works, because he hums in response, the line falling quiet. you hear the rustling of papers on his end, and you press your fingers harder against your cunt, heartbeat racing in your ears.

your fingers brush against your clit a little rougher than you intend, and a little whine escapes your lips, catching you off guard. you slap a hand over your mouth, hoping it had been too quiet for him to hear and he hadn’t been paying attention.

“are you…?” he asks suddenly, and your cheeks flush, caught red-handed in your sinful act.

you clear your throat, praying (both metaphorically and literally) that he doesn’t notice anything off about you. “am i what?”

his silence on the other end of the phone speaks volumes.

“joshua, oh my god, no, i–”

“what did you just say?”

you freeze. “what… did i say?”

when he speaks again, his tone is even. “don’t you know it’s a sin to take the lord’s name in vain, sweetheart?”

that nickname again, and now you know he’s doing it on purpose. innocent, pretty words, completely changed in a split second.

you let out a short laugh, scrambling to find a cover. “must’ve forgot then.”

he hums. “i remember you spent a whole month trying to memorize the ten commandments. we must’ve been what, eight or nine? you wouldn’t have forgotten. i may not have seen you since we were kids, but i’ve still known you most of my life.”

“it was an accident, you know how it is. just slips out. of course i remember them all.”

he tsks, and it feels like your heart stops. “did you forget that lying is a sin, too? you’re two for two now, wanna try for a third?”

damn him! damn his good memory and damn his stupid witty comebacks and damn the way he so quickly manages to unravel you.

you scowl and don’t respond to his question, your silence enough of an answer for joshua to know he’s right.

“why did you call me tonight?” he asks calmly.

you answer truthfully this time. “just wanted to hear your voice again. i really did miss you.”

the phone goes quiet again, and for a second you’re afraid he’s hung up, but then you hear him exhale. “it’s late. what are you doing?”

“i’m in bed, josh. don’t worry, father, i’m not staying up past my bedtime.”

he chooses to ignore your remark. “in bed doing what?”

you give him a half-suppressed laugh. “in bed laying down. what else would i be doing?”

“well, with the way you were trying to hide your moans earlier, i would’ve figured you were doing something more exciting. but if you’re just laying down, then i don't want to keep you long, might as well hang up…”

“no!” you squeak out, cutting him off. you swallow, trying to collect yourself as you repeat the word. “no. fine, whatever, you caught me. but– please, stay.” you can hear the plea in your voice and you know you should be embarrassed at how pathetic you sound, but you aren't. the only thing you can think about is joshua, joshua, joshua, and how good it feels to talk to him again.

“i’m here,” he says softly, and you let your eyes close with a sigh, relieved he’s not going to chastise you. but as much as you’ve both changed as you grew up, deep down you knew he wouldn’t. you figure you could do just about anything and he wouldn’t try to tell you what to do. he’d always been like that, and it’s what you’d loved about him; he never tried to control you or shame you for not acting like the perfect little angel everybody wanted you to be. 

you couldn’t say the same about others in the church. maybe that’s why you’d started to drift away from them and why joshua’s friendship coming to an end had left you so devastated. he had been the one and only person you could always count on, and they had not.

“are you still there?” he asks gently, and you realize you’ve been quiet for too long thinking.

“yeah,” you say finally.

“are you still touching yourself?”

you pause, stifling a gasp, taken aback by his forwardness. hearing him say it out loud made everything seem so real, the realization setting in about what you’re actually doing. “n– no.”

and it’s true. your hand has long since dropped away from your pajama pants, too nervous about being discovered to continue.

“well, why not?” he says. “don’t stop on my account.”

your mouth falls open. “i–”

“clearly you wanted something from me when you called. what is it, sweetheart? i can’t help you if i don’t know what it is you want.”

your brain practically short circuits at that, and it takes a very long minute for you to collect your thoughts into a coherent sentence. you want a lot of things, but you don’t know what’s okay to say or not or if he even wants to keep going. which is a silly thought, because he wouldn’t have asked if he didn’t want to know. it dawns on you that maybe… maybe he’s curious, maybe he’s thinking about you, too.

“what kind of help?” you ask, still testing the waters. you think you have an idea of what he means, but you ask anyway. you’ve never done anything like this with anyone else, only by yourself; not because you didn’t want to, but because you didn’t want it to be with someone who wasn’t joshua.

“you said you wanted to hear my voice,” he says, and you swear his tone has dropped an octave. “then let me talk to you.”

you whine a little, still holding back but not putting in as much effort to hide it. “m’kay.”

“would it make you feel better if i told you i’m hard right now?”

you suck in a breath. “yeah?”

“yeah,” he says. “just thinking about you.”

you feel a rush of emotion at his admittance. pride? satisfaction? whatever it is, it makes your cunt throb, knowing that just the thought of you can get him going.

finally you dare to slide your hand down your pants again, unsurprised when you find your underwear sticking to you with how wet you are. you’re soaking, and you haven’t even done anything yet.

“hold on,” you manage, putting the call on speaker as you set your phone on the table beside your bed, scrambling to shove your pants and ruined panties off and onto the floor.

once free, you pick up your phone and turn off the speaker, holding it to your ear with shaky hands.

“all ready now?” he asks softly, and it reminds you of what he used to say before you’d play pretend games together. always making sure you were ready. he was hot back then, too, and you mentally curse yourself for never realizing it sooner.

you hum. “mhm. comfortable.”

“good,” he says, and you can almost hear him smiling. “go ahead and do whatever you’d like. but i want you to tell me what you’re thinking about right now.”

you squirm a little on the bed as you start to circle your clit with your fingers. “thinking about you, joshua,” you sigh, finally beginning to feel relief.

“yeah?”

“yeah. you look even better than i thought you would,” you groan, picking up your pace a little as you slip your index finger inside your walls.

he chuckles. “oh, really?”

“mhm. god, i never thought i’d be doing this. especially not with you.”

“and why is that, baby?”

the name makes you shiver. you’d imagined him calling you it many times, but hearing him actually say it is completely different.

“because—” you whimper, losing your train of thought when your brain suddenly pictures his fingers inside you instead of your own. “i’m so close already, please—”

his tone is gentle but firm. “i want you to stop now.”

“but– ah, feels so good, shua,” you say, moans spilling out of you, finally letting him hear everything you’ve been holding back.

you hear him curse in that low voice through the phone, and your hand stills for a split second in shock, your eyes widening. as far as you knew, he never swore. but then again, there were a lot of things he never did that you're discovering about him now. looks like you weren’t the only one who changed over the years.

“that’s not my name.”

you sit up a little in confusion, pushing your phone closer to your ear to make sure you’re hearing him right. “huh?”

“my name is joshua. if you’re gonna moan like a sinner about how good it feels when i tell you how to touch yourself, you better use my name properly.” he sounds almost angry, but it only spurs you on even further.

you let his words sink for a second before responding. “yes, sir.”

“fuck,” he moans, he actually moans, and if you weren’t already so far gone you would’ve stopped to listen closer, to ingrain the noise in your brain so you never again forget how he sounds. “what did i just tell you?”

“what, you don’t like being called ‘sir’? thought you wanted to be a pastor, joshua,” you say with a smirk, and you know he hears the mischief in your voice, daring him to give you what you want.

it’s probably a good thing he’s not physically in the room with you, because there's no way you would have been able to muster up the courage to say something like that to his face. you wouldn’t have dared to even look him in the eyes, but being on the phone gives you a head rush. because with only his voice and not seeing his face, you can convince yourself that he still isn’t real, that this whole phone call and even your meeting earlier had just been an elaborate figment of your horny imagination, your denial being the only thing saving your last shred of dignity.

“didn’t realize you’d grow up to be even more of a brat than you were before,” he scoffs, and your cunt pulses. 

“what are you doing right now?” you say, a little desperately. the change of subject isn’t very subtle but you don’t care. you won’t lie, you’ve been curious since the start of what he’s doing but he’s been so focused on you he hasn’t said anything about himself. you want to know everything about him— how he’s moving his hands, where he puts pressure, what he thinks about to get himself closer and closer.

he grunts unceremoniously. “i’m fucking my hand and pretending it’s you.”

“me too,” you whimper, closing your eyes as you focus on the movement of your fingers.

after a while he stops responding, and you can hear his heavy breaths over the line matching with your own gasps for air as you curl your fingers inside of you. you figure he must be getting close, but you ask him anyway, because you want to hear him say it.

“yeah– fuck, so close,” he chokes out, and the way his voice gets higher as he lets out a whimper is what finally makes you come undone.

with a moan of his name—his full name—you cum, clenching around your fingers as you struggle to keep your hand moving. your wrist is starting to cramp up a little from the position you’ve been in, but the pleasure coursing through you is more than worth it. it’s almost dizzying, more powerful than any orgasm you’ve had before and when you finally remove your fingers from your aching cunt your head is spinning and your heart is pounding.

you can hear a muffled string of curses through the phone and you know he’s right behind you. thoughts of him sitting on his bed run rampant in your head, imagining his stomach covered in milky cum and his pretty, pretty lips parted as he catches his breath.

the silence is heavy as you feel yourself come back down from your high. you struggle to find something to say after… whatever that just was, so you say the only thing that’s on your mind.

“i really did miss you, joshua,” you say quietly. unlike before, there’s not a hint of teasing in the way you say his name now.

and he sighs contentedly, finally hearing his name on your lips like he always wanted to. “i know. i missed you too.”

you both say your goodbyes and good nights quickly, still basking in enough of the remnants of your orgasms to not be too awkward about it. but after you’re settled in bed (for real, this time) and about to fall asleep, you can’t help but wonder if things between you and joshua will ever be anything but awkward.

a memory surfaces: you and joshua running around at the park behind the church after a sunday evening service, no older than kindergarteners, laughing and playing until you collapse on the grass. your mom called for you both to get ready to go home, and no you’re not allowed to have a sleepover because it’s a school night but maybe this weekend if his mom is okay with it. before you ran off, he thrust his pinky out towards you and you shook on it, making a pact to always be best friends, even when you can’t have sleepovers. it didn’t ever occur to either of you that there might come a day where you wouldn’t be best friends.

you don’t remember what prompted him to make the pinky promise, but you know he’s never broken it. and you can only hope that he hasn’t forgotten it.

it’s a few days later at one of your bible study groups when you see him next, and yet again you’re caught off-guard like a deer in headlights.

you’re sitting with a group of other ladies, annotating material for a test you couldn’t care less about when you hear your name called out– a familiar deep voice you can only pray doesn’t belong to who you think it belongs to.

oh, but it does belong to him, alright. it feels like you’ve gotten the wind knocked out of you when you turn around and see joshua standing behind you, a warm smile on his face that makes you doubt anything ever happened. maybe it really was all just a delirious dream, too many years of yearning built up into one intense wet dream.

he puts a hand on your shoulder lightly, turning you away from the rest of the ladies. “hey, can we talk somewhere?”

and oh shit it was definitely not a dream.

your cheeks burn as you excuse yourself from the table, packing up your bible and pens and shoving everything in your bag as quickly as you can. you can almost hear the snickering already, the gossips whispering to each other that you must have done something unspeakable if the top-student, pastor’s son, joshua hong has to speak with you privately. ah, if only they knew.

you only wish you could go back there and wipe the smirks off of all their faces and tell them about what the perfect little gentlemen they all pretend they don’t have crushes on was doing on the phone with you last night. you wouldn’t do that, not in a million years, but just the thought of it is satisfaction enough. 

joshua leads you down the hall to a room that looks like an empty office. he opens the door for you, then closes it softly behind you.

“whose is this?” you ask, glancing around the room. 

���it’s… mine,” he says almost shyly, gesturing idly to a little engraved nameplate on the desk. joshua hong, pastor’s assistant. because of fucking course he would be.

“oh.”

he clears his throat, and in that moment you realize he’s just as nervous as you are. “listen…” he starts, taking a pause. “about the other night–”

“are you gonna kick me out?” you interrupt.

his brows knit together in confusion. “what?”

“are you gonna expel me?”

“no?” he says, still looking at you, baffled. “why would i do that? i don’t even think i have the power to, even if i wanted. which, for the record, i don’t.”

you don’t reply, focusing your gaze on the carpet instead.

he frowns. “is that really how you think of me? that i just go around tattling to my dad? from that… conversation, i thought it was clear i’m not like that anymore.”

the tips of your ears are burning at the memory of all the things you said to each other over the phone. but it never occurred to you that maybe he was just as sinful as you had been.

you stay quiet, the silence stretching on as shame and embarrassment and a hundred other emotions swirl in your mind and you struggle to figure out what to say.

luckily for you he fills the silence himself. he exhales, looking down at a stack of papers on the desk. “god, you… you don’t know how much i missed you. i thought about you all the time.”

“so did i,” you manage to whisper. “in more ways than you know.”

he gives you a teasing smile. “oh, i have a feeling i do know.”

you hold back a cough and look away, focusing your attention on a painting of flowers on the wall. “i don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“if that’s how you wanna play this, fine.”

your curiosity piques, and you look back at him. he motions to the seat in front of the desk, wordlessly asking you to sit. hesitantly you do, and he starts to sit down at the swivel chair behind the desk, but you clear your throat and he glances up.

“can– can you not sit over there?” you ask softly. “feels like i’m being scolded.”

his expression softens a little, and he rolls the chair back into place, opting to sit next to you instead. “of course.”

except maybe you shouldn’t have asked him to do that, because now he’s sitting toe to toe with you and the closeness is overwhelming. at least on the other side of the desk there was enough distance for you to shrink and hide behind, but here, sitting like this, he can see all of you. and you don’t particularly want to be seen right now.

the tension is palpable as he takes his seat, still watching you. you take the moment to study his features: the slope of his nose and the gentle curve of his lips, the way the light catches on his long eyelashes and the way his broad shoulders look in that perfectly tailored sunday morning service suit.

“i always liked you,” he starts, and your gaze shoots up to his eyes. you open your mouth to ask something, but he shakes his head and you immediately fall silent, letting him finish. “i was almost glad when they made us go to different sunday school classes, because i wouldn’t have to sit there and pretend i didn’t have the craziest crush on you.”

“joshua, i–” you trail off, not even knowing what to say.

he pauses, as if debating his next words. “and i know it’s wrong, but i couldn’t get you out of my head when i… y’know.” his cheeks are flushed but he doesn’t look away from you, eyes searching your own for any hesitance or any sign that you don’t want this.

it’s then that you realize that the boldness you had felt hiding behind your phone, he had felt it too. saying words alone in your room at night was easy. sitting in public, in the daylight, and saying those same words to his face was so much scarier. and knowing that you’re both feeling awkward and shy and a little uncertain of how to talk about it gives you the confidence to keep going.

“when you would what?” you pry. you already know the answer but you want to hear it come out of his mouth anyway. you’ve already heard him say it, but something about sitting in his office, in a church, speaking such filth ignites a spark in you that’s completely different from the spark you felt a few nights ago.

he clears his throat and looks you in the eye, maybe gaining a little bit of that confidence, too. “when i would jerk off i would always wish it was your sweet little mouth instead of my own hand.”

you inhale sharply, and that’s when he finally breaks eye contact, his guilt-ridden gaze shifting to the wall behind you as his cheeks burn redder. “i didn’t feel good about it. felt like i was doing it without your permission, and i didn’t want that. i–”

“yes,” you say hurriedly.

he stops short at your interruption, instantly looking back at you. “yes…?”

“yes, you have my permission. whatever you want, joshua, always.”

his eyes narrow, almost imperceptibly, but you recognize it. even after all these years, after so much has changed, you still know his tells. you wonder if he still knows yours.

he murmurs your name in response, almost like a warning. “don’t say stuff like that,” he says, letting out a shaky breath.

“why not?” you ask, feigning innocence. but you know exactly what you’re doing, and you know exactly how you affect him: the same way he affects you.

he looks up at you. “you really are just as much of a brat as you were back then, aren’t you?” he says with just a hint of a smile playing at the corners of his mouth.

“why don’t you find out?”

he groans, leaning back in his chair. “do you know how long i’ve wanted to kiss you?” he says finally.

“probably just as long as i’ve wanted to kiss you,” you counter, and he raises an eyebrow.

you both stand up at the same moment, closing the distance in less than a second. 

you stare at his chest in front of you to avoid his eyes, until he brings up a hand and gently tilts your chin, forcing you to look at him.

“are– you gonna get in trouble?” you breathe, heartbeat pounding in your ears as you stare at his perfect, perfect lips.

he hums, and it sends a shiver down your spine at the close proximity. “are you still giving me permission?” he asks, and you quickly shake your head yes. 

“always.”

he smooths his thumb across your cheek. “then i won’t be in any trouble at all."

and then his hand moves to hold the back of your neck and he's tilting his head and bringing his lips towards yours and then finally, after years of dreaming about it and even more years of denying it, you're finally kissing joshua and there's so many things happening at once that you can't seem to focus on anything because your mind is so full of everything and nothing and joshua and it all just feels so right.

you’re melting in his arms and falling into his touch and enjoying every fucking second of it. your heart speeds up when his hands slide behind your back, wrapping around your body to pull you closer to him, pressed chest to chest.

he pulls away to kiss you again, and again, and again, and you decide you’d be content to be like this forever, standing in his office in the church building making out like you’re the only two people on earth. 

but finally his lips leave yours, and he takes a tiny step backwards, heaving out a shaky breath as he looks you in the eyes. “what are we gonna do now?”

your heart plummets, doubts racing through your mind. did he not like it? does he not like you? did you really just ruin everything? why did he stop? why did he ask that—

but all your questions are answered in an instant when he coughs and you look down, finally noticing the prominent bulge in his dress pants. oh. that.

when you look back up at him his cheeks are flushed bright red, and he immediately begins to apologize.

“shua,” you call out to him, repeating his name the way you know he likes. “joshua. don’t worry about it. it’s fine.”

in fact, you find it incredibly flattering, that just a few kisses and gentle touches could get him this worked up. maybe it really has been you all along.

with a surge of confidence, you step back towards him, wrapping your arms around him and leaning to kiss him. “are you busy today?” you murmur, your cheek brushing against his.

he shudders, hands automatically finding your waist and pushing your hips against his own. “no. are you?”

you sigh, kissing the corner of his mouth. “not anymore.”

“fuck,” he curses, his grip on your body tightening “you really want to…?” he asks, almost shyly, as if he’s in denial this is really happening.

“absolutely,” you say, and you’ve never meant anything more in your life.

in a second he’s got you shoved against his desk, sending papers flying to the floor as he lifts you by your ass to sit you down on top of it. your kisses turn rougher and needier, your hands grabbing at anything you can reach to ground yourself: his hair, his shoulders, his back.

finally he breaks free, dropping to his knees in front of the desk. “please, let me eat you out.”

you moan out loud, probably too loudly for the thin walls of the office. but the visual of him on his knees to do anything other than pray drives you mad, and you need more of him, desperately. “joshua, please.”

he pushes your skirt up your thighs, moving it out of his way so he can stare eye to eye with your pussy. you whimper and instinctively try to hide your face in embarrassment, but something tells you he wouldn’t like that, so you resist, keeping your hands firmly planted on the edge of the desk.

“fuck, you’re soaking,” he says, his voice broken. “you’re so perfect.”

his hands reach up to tug at the hem of your underwear, and he looks up at you, silently asking for permission to continue. you nod eagerly, lifting your hips off the desk so he can slide them off of you, revealing your glistening entrance.

he whines at the sight, pretty lips parted in shock? awe? as if he can’t wait to taste you. he pushes his face into your pussy, gently at first, but when you moan and bring your hand up to his hair he dives deeper.

the moment he attaches his mouth to your clit, you jump, gasping as you try to shut your legs around his head but his large hands keep you held open. his tongue explores every inch of you, moving back and forth, up and down, mapping out your cunt with his mouth. 

“fuck, never dreamed you’d taste so good,” he sighs against your pussy, leaning away to take a breath after what feels like forever.

your legs are shaking and your cunt is throbbing as you also try to catch your breath. you’re not used to being touched like this and you’re definitely not used to being touched by joshua. so many thoughts running through your head and not a single one of them coherent enough to put into words. all you can do is weakly whine out joshua’s name and tug on his hair, pleading for him to keep going. you need release, and you don’t want it from anyone but him.

he stands up, his pants wrinkled from kneeling on the floor but still tented with a bulge so uncomfortably large you feel dizzy just thinking about it. you don’t even know if he’s going to fuck you or even if he wants to, but god you want to see his cock so bad. too many restless nights spent thinking about it, and now you might finally have the chance to see it in front of your face.

your mouth waters at the thought, and you start to slide off the desk, but joshua stops you. “what are you…?”

you look up at him, eyes blown wide with lust and you don’t even attempt to hide your eagerness. “please let me suck your dick. joshua, please.”

he whines, running a hand through his hair. “god, i want that so bad, but… i don’t think i can last if you do, and i was really hoping to fuck you.”

you close your eyes and roll your head back, moaning at his vulgar confession. but he sighs, and he sounds almost defeated, and you look back at him quickly, afraid he’s suddenly changed his mind.

“i’m not—prepared,” he admits, and you tilt your head in confusion before it sinks in what he means.

“ah. don’t suppose you would have any condoms lying around, would you, mr. pastor’s assistant?” you ask playfully, and he shoots you a glare.

“brat,” he mutters under his breath, but you hear it, and your walls clench in response. “no, i don’t have any. not interested in anybody else, so… no reason to.” he looks like he has more to say, more serious things to say, but he keeps his mouth shut, his eyes searching your face nervously.

your stomach flips at his words, feeling your cheeks heating up. you hadn’t thought you would ever get this far, and especially not with him. because of the kind of school you were at, it wasn’t like the people here were doing the kind of things you’ve been doing—at least not publicly. even if you’d wanted to hook up with somebody (which you didn’t), everyone in your vicinity would shame you for even bringing it up. you may have experience with yourself, but anything with anyone else is completely new territory for you.

you fall silent, not sure how to continue the conversation as all your newfound confidence begins to crumble. what were you thinking? caught up in the heat of the moment, saying things you weren’t sure you meant. you were in love with him: that much you were sure of. but everything that comes after that is too new, too scary, at least for right now. you can barely even comprehend that he just went down on you, but you know you enjoyed it and honestly, you’d give anything for him to do it again. but there’s too much going on inside your head for you to even begin to process that right now.

he calls your name and you blink, looking back at him anxiously. “we… don’t have to. right now, or even at all,” he says gently. the tips of his ears are burning red but his voice is calm and steady.

“joshua, i want to,” you start, clasping your hands tightly together in your lap to give you something to focus on other than the way he’s watching you so intently. “but i– don’t know how.”

“neither do i, baby,” he says. the nickname makes you shiver; even though it’s not the first time he’s called you that, especially after the other night, you’re still not used to it. but somehow it’s comforting, and it makes you relax knowing that he’s still the same person you grew up with, the same person that knows almost everything about you. you’ve both changed so much, but deep down you haven’t changed at all.

he pauses when you don’t say anything back. “we’ll wait, then,” he says and wraps his arms around you, lightly at first but then squeezing when you don’t try to pull away. “we have all the time in the world. no need to rush.”

“we… do?” your voice is laced with uncertainty.

he smiles. “of course. i let you go once already, i’m not letting it happen again. never again.”

you turn your head away from him and hide your face, flustered by how sincere he sounds. he hums, and you can hear the pout in his tone so you fight your embarrassment and turn back towards him to ask the question that’s been weighing on your mind since you first saw him days ago. “this is gonna sound so stupid, but… shua, what are we?”

first you were childhood friends, you were best friends, and then you were nothing. right place, wrong time? and then you were… doing something on the phone together, whatever you could call that. and now you were just sitting on top of his desk, sweating from having almost had sex. how do you even begin to put a label on this?

“well, i’d like to be yours,” he says shyly, and just like that all your questions are answered with six small words. you realize it doesn’t matter what label you have; as long as you have him, that’s all that matters.

“yes,” you breathe, lifting your eyes to finally meet his and you see all the love in his eyes threatening to spill over.

he reaches up to brush a piece of your hair out of your face. “i’m just glad i finally have you back,” he says with a soft smile as he watches you. “we’ll go slow, we’ll wait— whatever you want. whatever it takes not to lose you again.”

you bury your face in his chest with a whine. you’re hiding again, but even the uncomfortable scratchiness of his dress shirt can’t pull you away from him.

“besides, i don’t want our first time together to be in my stupid little office,” he chuckles and holds you tighter against him, pressing a kiss to the top of your head that makes your heart flutter. “you deserve better than that.”

you stay there for a long moment, hugging him like it's the last time you'll ever see him. but this time you know it won't be the last. it's the first, the first of hopefully many, many more.

when you feel like you've been standing there too long, you clear your throat and lean your head back to look at him. "so, um… now what?"

he pauses, those pretty lips turned up in a smile. "do you have plans for lunch?"

"no, i just had that study group you pulled me from. i'm free for the rest of the day."

his smile widens. "perfect. you still like grilled cheese, or did you grow out of that, too?"

you laugh, putting your chin on his shoulder as you hug him. "i haven't changed that much, shua."

after taking a while to collect yourselves (waiting for his erection to go back down so you can leave together without looking suspicious), you walk out of joshua’s office the happiest you've felt in years.

he'd wanted to hold your hand, too, but you were still anxious about anyone seeing you together that you'd refused him until you made it to his car. you were probably just being paranoid and no one would care about two responsible adults talking to each other, but all the time you'd spent hiding from your peers had put you on edge.

so, it wasn't until you were safely out of the church parking lot and in the driveway of his apartment complex that you let him touch you, kissing you over the cupholders with his hands gently holding your neck.

it took everything in you not to climb over the center console and sit on his lap in the driver's seat and kiss him as hard and as deeply as you really wanted, but you knew once you started you wouldn't be able to stop. and besides, he still didn't have any condoms. it didn't bother you either way, since you'd been taking birth control since high school to help with your periods, but if it was what he wanted you'd be more than fine with it.

you don't know what you'd been expecting the inside his apartment to look like; probably some tacky cross-stitch bible verses or a wooden cross hanging on the wall, but his apartment just looked like… a normal apartment. a very clean apartment, actually, though you weren't surprised. he'd always been a neat, organized kid, and it looked like that was one thing he hadn't grow out of.

you watch as he puts his keys on a hook by the door, following him into the kitchen and sitting at one of the chairs.

he grins at you as he opens his refrigerator, pulling out the ingredients for your lunch before taking out a pan.

"shua…" you interrupt him, standing up and walking towards him slowly. "you're not— really thinking about grilled cheese sandwiches right now, are you?"

he hums, eyes following your every movement as the pan sits cold and abandoned on the stove. "there are… other things on my mind, yeah."

"so why are you still trying to make grilled cheese sandwiches?"

by now you're close enough to stand toe to toe with him, and you're sure he can feel the heat radiating off your body when he wraps his hands around your waist, backing you against the kitchen counter. "because i wanna make you lunch. maybe i just wanna spoil my girl a little bit."

a shiver runs down your spine at the new name he calls you. never in a million years did you think this is where you'd end up.

"i think you have all the time in the world to spoil me later, joshua," you mumble, leaning in closer and closer until your lips touch.

in a flash he's hoisting you up and sitting you on the counter. his mouth never leaves yours as you slide your legs around his hips to drag him closer, kisses growing deeper and more desperate now that you can finally be alone together.

his hands slide down your body, tugging at the hem of your shirt and only breaking apart for a second to slide it over your head before his lips are crashing against yours again. 

your hands find his hips, experimentally tugging on his belt to see his reaction. immediately he pulls away from you, 

cheeks flushed and breathing heavily. "sweetheart, i still don't have any condoms. if you really want to now, then we gotta run to the store first."

“i’m on the pill,” you burst out, hoping he gets the message. maybe he has some other reason for wanting to, but you're too impatient to wait for who knows how long it'll take to go to the store, and you don't think you'll be able to keep your hands off him for that long. you don't think you'll be able to keep your hands off of him for even a few seconds.

his face goes blank as he processes your words, struggling to understand if you’re saying what he thinks you’re saying. “you’d let me…?”

you grab onto his arms, a desperate attempt to pull him closer, to feel more of him. “raw, yes, joshua. just—please, i need you,” you beg him, cunt throbbing with neglect as you wait for him to answer. 

he buries his face in your shoulder with a groan, gripping his hands underneath your thighs and sliding you off the counter.

with a shriek you wrap your legs around his waist and your arms around his neck, holding on tightly as he starts to walk out of the kitchen carrying you. "joshua! what the hell are you doing?"

his face is still pressed against your shoulder, and you can feel his lips tickling your bare skin as he speaks. "i'll fuck you on my kitchen counter any day of the week, baby, but i want to have you for the first time in my bed, please?"

his voice is low and whiny, just as desperate for you as you are for him and it makes you moan with excitement. 

he finds his way into his room, stumbling a little when he accidentally runs you into the wall instead of through the doorway, but you just giggle and kiss him harder until he finally drops you on his bed, immediately unbuttoning his shirt.

you run your hands along his chest as he leans over you, feeling the toned muscle that feels almost wrong to be seeing. his physical changes are much more obvious to you now that he's like this, and you know the image will fuel your fantasies for weeks.

your hands move to his belt again and this time he allows it, letting you unbuckle it and toss it away before slowly lowering the zipper. he's already hard again, and your heart races when you put a little bit of pressure on the seam and he lets out a guttural groan in response.

his arms flex as he reaches down to slide your skirt off, and you help him and kick the fabric away, leaving both of you in nothing but your underwear.

joshua pauses, letting his gaze wander your body as you look away shyly. he hums and you look back at him in confusion. "don't hide from me, sweetheart, please," he says, but it comes out more like a whine; not like he's asking, but like he's begging. it's honestly the hottest thing you've ever heard, and even with your nerves he makes it hard to resist.

"dreamt about this for fucking years. years," he moans as he leans over to kiss your chest, reaching behind your body to undo your bra and let it fall away. you whimper when he brings his hands up to cup your breasts, wrapping his mouth around one of your nipples as he starts to slowly grind against your clothed pussy. you can already feel yourself soaking through your panties, and you're sure he can feel it, too.

his hands are like nothing you've ever felt, and you roll your head back against his pillows, arching into him as he massages your breasts with his large hands. you'd noticed them before, but you hadn't realized just how big they were until they were on top of you and made your body seem almost tiny beneath his massive palms.

"shua…" you breathe, tentative hands reaching up to touch his shoulders.

he looks up at you, mouth covered in spit. "yes, angel?"

you whimper at the nickname. no angel you'd ever learned about in sunday school had acted like you are right now, begging a man to fuck you. and on top of that it was before marriage, too; surely if there was a god they would be extremely disappointed in you. but right now you didn't care if the entire universe was disappointed in you, as long as joshua hong wasn't.

it takes you a few more seconds to build up your courage, but finally you open your mouth and tell him, "joshua, please— fuck me."

he slides forward to kiss you again, before sitting back and repositioning himself between your legs. "anything you want, sweetheart."

he lines his cock up at your entrance, and just before you think he's about to push into you, he looks up at you instead. 

"i love you, so much," he says, and you have to fight the urge to hide your face as you grin and giggle like a fucking schoolgirl; like the past version of you would have, if she'd had any sense and figured everything out sooner.

and, like always, he asks, "ready?", and you nod, and it's better than you could've ever imagined.

the whines that leave his mouth drive you close to the edge already as he begins to thrust into you, slowly, gently, just a little bit at a time but it still leaves you gasping from his size.

he keeps moving at a snail's pace until you reach up, fumbling to grab at his bicep as tears nearly spill out of your eyes and beg him, "joshua, more, please."

he leans over you, pressing his body flat against yours as he starts to rock his hips faster, and you cry out from so much pleasure and so much emotion hitting all at once.

"wanted you so fucking bad, for so long, and now you're finally here," he whispers, his thrusts never faltering despite how close in proximity he is to your face.

you whine as your hands claw at his back, digging in as you struggle to hold on and he curses again, pushing into you harder.

"you said i was better than you imagined," he groans, one hand coming up to caress your cheek. "but you're even better than i imagined. you're a fucking angel, so fucking beautiful."

you gasp his name, falling into your orgasm from his words alone as you clench impossibly tight around him. you always thought of him as the nice kid, the rule follower, but here he is, fucking you through the hardest orgasm of your life and saying such filthy things in between praises and compliments.

"jo-oshua, please!" is all you can manage, still struggling to recover before he crests into his own high with a whimper. his eyes scrunch up as he releases inside you, eyelashes fluttering and sweat dripping down his temples, and you think it's the most beautiful sight you've ever seen. 

a constant stream of curses fall from his lips and you swallow them with yours, kissing him as if you're afraid he might disappear into thin air if you don't hold onto him tight enough.

his breaths are shallow when his mouth falls away from you, resting his forehead on your shoulder with a long exhale.

"god…" he starts, then stops and laughs, and you have to tug on his hair to make him face you again.

"what are you laughing at?" you say, cheeks growing hot when he looks at you with droopy, hooded eyes and a lopsided smile.

"nothing," he laughs. "just god. what a funny word."

"and why is that, baby?" you say as you try to hold back a smile, testing out the nickname.

he grins. "because it gave me you. or maybe it didn't. who knows?"

you finally laugh along with him, remembering what he'd said to you on the phone that feels like years ago. "don’t you know it’s a sin to take the lord’s name in vain, sweetheart?”

the church is humming with activity as you make your way to the front pew, carrying two donuts in your hand. people greet you as they mingle about the hall, talking and laughing. some wave excitedly when they see you, others simply smile and offer their hand for you to shake with a friendly “good morning and god bless!”

being a pastor’s wife isn’t something you ever imagined yourself doing, but then again, a lot of things in your life you never imagined doing. you never imagined seeing joshua again, and you never imagined marrying him, either. you certainly didn’t imagine taking over your father-in-law’s church when he retired and decided it was time for joshua to take his place as head of the church. you always knew he would someday, whether he wanted to or not, but you’d be happy to spend the rest of your life by his side no matter where he was or what job he had.

you’d been almost nervous when you decided it was finally time to tell your parents you had been seeing each other, but to your surprise they had been overjoyed at the news. both his family and yours were “just so glad when it happened to be you!”, saying things like “we’d always known it would happen, back since you were children!”, and “so when are we going to get some beautiful little grandchildren to take to sunday school!”

it had been five long and happy years since that very first phone call, and every minute you spend with joshua has been the best of your life.

you walk up the steps to the stage where your husband is waiting, flipping through his notes for the morning’s sermon. you hand him his donut with a grin, giving him a quick kiss on the cheek. he smirks at you, imperceptible to everyone else but you can tell what it truly means.

everybody in the congregation always talks you’re the perfect example of a happy, god-loving couple. such nice looking people, so well put together. but behind closed doors, they’d be horrified by the things you say and do together. wolf in sheep’s clothing, as is your husband’s favorite parable to preach.

it’s not the life you imagined, but it’s perfect to you and him.

i hope you enjoyed this!! if you did, consider reblogging with tags or leaving a comment or an ask :) it shows me this is something people want to see more of, and knowing people like this makes me want to write more of it! thanks for reading!!

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[reddeaddamnation]

"Possession vs Obsession" - Sub-Zero x reader x Scorpion - Chapter I

"Father, I will not stand for this!" Bi Han lashed out, voice booming throughout the Lin Kuei temple, as he paced around angrily "You think me to be some sort of child who can't decide for himself who to wed?!" His eyes challenged those of his elder. If it was anyone else, Sub Zero would quickly be put in his place, but his father was a just and kind man, who thought of the future of the Lin Kuei, his sons and the peace between clans. For it was in an endless war between the Lin Kuei and the clan of Shadow-weavers that took the lives many from both sides. And peace would finally be achieved between both elders, who dreamed of a brighter future, since Y/N's father stepped into power.

"My word is final." His father cut him off, voice denying the opportunity to argue "You are the future of this clan and I will not allow anymore bloodshed between our clans, not now, not after you."

Y/N waited nervously at the entrance of the temple, shaking her legs back and forth on the bench she sat on. The Shadow-weavers delegation had long since left, leaving her alone in this unknown place. She didn't know if these people were friends or enemies at this liminal point in time. She could either not survive until morning or live a tolerable life among them. Suddenly, she heard footsteps. Her head snapped in the direction from where they came from.

"Hello." A boy with ashen hair approached with a smile. He didn't look familiar to the other Lin Kuei. "It's nice to meet you." The girl smiled shyly, hesitantly, but didn't answer. "I'm sorry about my brother. He can be...well...like himself..." he chuckled quietly "But I promise, we aren't all like that. I assure you, we want to stop fighting and enjoy peace." He motioned to the bench, asking silently if he could sit and she moved over to the side to give him space. "My name is Thomas." He introduced himself. "I'm Y/N." They shook hands, smiling. "It's nice to meet a friendly face." Y/N scoffed and returned to staring at the canyons among the mountain. "I apologize again if Bi Han scared you. He really left a bad impression." Thomas grimaced at the memory of his brother lashing out, not even acknowledging her presence when they were introduced to each other.

"I'm not exactly dying to be here either." Y/N murmured, irony in her words "He didn't need to remind me why I don't want this." Thomas stayed quiet for a moment "Well, I wish I could help you, but the least I can do is make your life here bearable." He suggested, smiling warmly "If you need anything or just want to talk, I'll be here for you. I know what it's like to be new." She looked at him puzzled "I'm not...I was adopted by the Grand Master... I know from experience Bi Han doesn't like change."

Y/N stared at him silently, not knowing what to say, except just nodding in understanding. "But don't worry. I'm sure everything will be okay with you two." Thomas reassured with a smile again "Have you met our other brother? Kuai Liang?" Y/N shook her head no. "Let's go find him. You shouldn't be alone and sulking. I'll show you around."

Thomas was a breath of fresh air for her. A friendly face and warm heart, unlike these frozen wastelands. She missed her home so. This mountain was cold. Freezing in a different way. The caverns, where her clan temple was built were also cold, yet cozy. The shadows embraced her and kept her warm and safe. Up here, out in the open, she felt vulnerable. It was unnatural. The boy who wielded smoke was talking as they walked but she didn't hear him. She only wished to find a shadowy corner to hide in.

"What?" She shook her head out of her trance when Thomas asked for her attention. "Can you show me a power your clan can do?" He asked with a grin. Y/N giggled. With a gracious raise of her arm, the shade of a tree twisted and scurried to form a ball in her open palm, snaking up her body. Thomas watched in awe. Her fingers danced around the ball, shaping and forming it until a bird was created. It took flight when the girl pushed it away with her hand and it returned to the shadow of the tree. "Impressive. I bet you have amazing warriors." He commented. "I was trained by the Grand Master himself." She shrugged as if it was nothing and grinned.

"That was impressive indeed." A new voice frightened her "I would love to see what you can do in combat." A man with black hair, tied in a bun approached them. He was dressed in yellow, unlike the blue uniform usual Lin Kuei warriors wear. He bowed his head lightly at her to show respect "Don't misunderstand me. That was not an invitation." He smirked.

"This is who I told you about." Thomas introduced. But Y/N didn't hear him. She was lost in his intense gaze, jaw ajar and eyes wide from the sight of him. She felt her knees weak, almost bending from the intensity. Someone was calling her name. But it came as an echo. This man only had to say a handful of words... and she was lost... how was it possible? His demeanor projected intensity as a whole. Fire. Bi Han also had the intense and dominant demeanor, but... he was cold. Unwelcoming...

"Y/N?" Kuai Liang's worried voice brought her back to reality. Even though she wished to hear it over and over again, as his voice sounded like the end of an ice age within her. She giggled nervously. Thankfully, her blushing face could be explained by the freezing bite of the ice cold air. "I...yes...that's me." She paced around in her place anxiously. The two boys shared a look. "Are you feeling alright?" Kuai Liang asked, worry tainting his beautiful eyes. "I...uh..." the girl started, trying not to sound too ridiculous "It's quite cold...I suppose I'm just not used to the weather."

The boys looked at each other again, puzzled. Scorpion was first to let it go and spoke. "I'm sure today was stressful for you. Would you like me to escort you inside to rest?" Her heart skipped a beat at the proposition. She smiled, stuttering out an affirmative sentence, hoping he doesn't catch on to her nervousness. "If you need help with anything, don't be afraid to tell me or Thomas." Nodding again, mindlessly, she allowed him to lead the way towards the room she will be staying in.

Of course, with her husband-to-be, about whom she had completely forgotten until he reminded her of his presence by almost barging into the room late into the evening and laying eyes on her. For a time, she thought he won't speak. "Don't think I will accept this arrangement just because my father said I must." He broke the silence, voice as cold as the powers he wielded. Y/N rolled her eyes, but chose to not argue any more than she needed to. "The thought hasn't even crossed my mind." She sneered sarcastically and turned her back on him. "I tolerate you, girl." His voice came as a warning "Don't change that." A scoff made his eye twitch in irritation "That's not my decision to make."

Bi Han stepped closer to her, slowly, calculating. "Choose your words carefully." Y/N sighed and turned around to face him. "Should I make space for you in this room or will you prefer to be sleeping elsewhere?"

#mortal kombat #mortal kombat 1 #mk1 #sub zero #bi han #bi han x reader #sub zero x reader #mortal kombat sub zero #scorpion #scorpion x reader #kuai liang #kuai liang x reader #mortal kombat scorpion

[moronkombat]

Yandere Bi Han with his pregnant wife

How was he through out the pregnancy before she left him?

tw: yandere, pregnancy

Bi-Han is overbearing and intimidating throughout his partner's pregnancy

He has a strict set of guidelines for his lover to follow and there are no exceptions to them

The first trimester is horribly suffocating for Bi-Han's lover. You are forbidden from leaving a certain area of the villa

You are a prisoner in your own room and small garden. You are to stay in your bed, getting up only to stretch your legs for about 5 minutes at a time before you must go back to laying down

Doctor visits are frequent as Bi-Han obsesses over you and the baby's health. A doctor monitors you almost each and every day

The doctor is not your only company, however, Bi-Han also spends a lot of time with you during those first 3 months

He's very tender with you, almost afraid to touch you. You are made of glass and he a hammer to shatter it

Other visitors are rare, far and few between. Even his two siblings seldom allowed to spend time with you

You cannot be exposed to any illness when you are still in the early stages of pregnancy

No, your only company is music to listen to and books to read, though you must read them aloud so that the baby can hear them too, per Bi-Han's demand

As your pregnancy continues and you begin to show more, Bi-Han's timidness begins to flee from that primal pride he feels at seeing you filled with his child

No longer does he worry about breaking you. His hands do not hide from you, not for a moment

Fingers press bruises into your hips while he drives himself into your wet and crying pussy

Eyes never leave your stomach. You're his, all his. You are his lover, you will give him what is owed to him as heir of the Lin Kuei

Hands caress your now rounded stomach so full of the life you have created together but they do not linger there

They grab at engorged and plush breasts. So heavy, so soft...so full of that precious nectar. Who would he be if he didn't have a taste?

Bi-Han is greedy with it, hungry and wild. Teeth snag and bite as a tongue laps up what your breasts give him

Your taste is beautiful, your child will surely love it too but right now it is Bi-Han who will be feasting upon it

Your body is craved all throughout the day and when he comes to visit your room, you know it is not to talk. It is never to talk anymore

No, it is only to fuck you again and again. To tell you how you will birth him sons and strong warriors for the Lin Kuei

He tells you from now on you will always be filled with a child of his. You will never not be like this, such is your duty as his lover

This is not the man you had loved or maybe this always was Bi-Han and you too blind to see it until now

You aren't sure but now there is no one visiting you besides him. His brothers are gone and Bi-Han speaks of horrible ways of killing them

Will he raise your child to be a killer? Will your child crave the power and destruction that has ruined their father?

You can't be sure but you know what is truth in your heart and you cannot stay to see it unfold

#mortal kombat #mk1 2023 #mortal kombat fanworks #mortal kombat headcanons #mk1 #mortal kombat smut #mortal kombat x reader #bi han #mk1 bi han #bi han x reader #bi han x you #tw: yandere #tw: pregnancy

[lookismstuff]

Highlights of Eps 487-488

SPOILER ALERT

After Charles and Gun's encounter with the Kojima Brothers ended in a stalemate (with the possibility of victory on Charles' side), Shinmyeong decided to try the partnership route with Charles, who agreed.

Hiroaki wondered why Gun chose Charles and whether this was why Gun instigated "that day" to happen, but Gun insisted that he "chose to drink the cup" with Charles already (a reference to the sake exchange).

In a fatalistic tone, Gun stated that if anything happened to him, then that was his fate.

Elsewhere, Vin explained to Seongji that he'd been cursing his mom, who died and left him behind. Seongji told him not to, leaving Vin to tease his master that he was friendless, anyway.

The Cheonliang Fam kids started wearing dark tinted glasses in solidarity with Vin, who no longer bothered to grow his hair long and cover his eyes anyway. Also, as time went by Vin had gotten stronger than them…except for the immovable Mary.

That night, after the ex servant girl managed to persuade Vin to sleep in the same room, she slipped up after Vin cursed his mother, and told him not to do so, knowing how his mother died.

In anger, Vin demanded that she explained what happened, but the girl was in a panic attack (in a very uncomfortable flashback with Taejin) after Vin shook her shoulders in his exasperation, and only after Vin gave her some water and turned his back she could relate what happened...

Meanwhile, Shinmyeong had engaged the help of Beolgu, Jaesoo and Gwang (the Gen 0 guys who in the current timeline worked for Sera's team in White Tiger) to catch Seongji. Not for free, of course: Shinmyeong promised them girls and money.

Going back to Vin and the girl, he begged her to tell the truth about his mom because he had lived all his life long with hating his mother.

It turns out that Vin's mother was kind to the girl. So when she followed the woman (the girl called her "pretty lady") as she was summoned to the dojo one day, she saw the silhouette of what happened.

As Vin's mother sat alone and all disheveled, the girl told her that she saw everything. In anxiety, Vin's mother dismissed her worries, by saying that the shaman only "guided" her...

It's implied that Vin's mother was sexually enslaved by Shinmyeong, with the vague promise of letting her and Vin go to Seoul one day.

But after the girl saw what happened the other night, Vin's mother begged to be set free from the heinous act. The shaman threatened her with Vin's freedom (that he'd be used as a sacrifice).

Shinmyeong was infuriated when Vin's mother asked what she had done wrong to deserve this horrible treatment. Then the shaman insinuated that she wasn't even the victim here, and beat her for even asking what she did wrong..

In flashbacks we saw a dark-skinned girl tearfully begging to a ssireum wrestler.

Shinmyeong proceeded to tell Vin's mother about the two but we aren't privy to it.

Outside, the girl saw the silhouette of the two and it was the last night she'd ever seen Vin's mother. And she told Vin, that she was certain that it was the shaman who caused Vin's mother's death.

At the mountain clearing, Jewoo stated that he couldn't endure the training anymore, and Seongji asked him how he would beat Vin that way.

Jewoo wondered why Vin was that strong when he started kudo and ssireum so late, with only Mary to defeat him. But even Mary admitted openly that Vin never properly attacked her (controlling his strength), and Mary could only win in judo.

Seongji said, that just like "that person" had awakened his potential, he too had awakened Vin's potential, because Vin was the son of the founder of Mujin Jin ssireum. Vin's father was none other than Mujin Jin himself, the equal of Kim Gabryong.

That night, Vin set out to the shaman's main residence, to finish him once and for all and avenge his mother.

Note:

Who was the dark skinned girl? Was she Taejin's mother? Sister? What had Vin's father done?

#lookism #lookism webtoon #lookism manhwa #vin jin #jin hobin #shinmyeong cheon #taejin cheon #seongji yook #king of cheonliang #mujin jin #lookism spoilers #lookism 487 #lookism 488

[chiisana-sukima]

What's your favourite headcanon of something that happened in the Impala?

After Dean dies, Sam keeps the Impala sacrosanct. Even after he shuts down the bunker and he's starting to hunt less because he's aware his grief and depression are making him reckless and he'll probably get himself killed and he promised Dean he'd live--even then, he still keeps everything in the Impala exactly as it was. He listens to Dean's rickety ancient cassettes and keeps all Dean's phones charged and in the glove box, and if anyone calls in on one, those hunts he always takes.

But then DJ is born. Sam wants to be a good father. He settles down and gets a home and a second car, but the Impala is still his first home and it's Dean's legacy, and would Dean want his nephew to treat it like a couch wrapped in plastic at some distant elderly relative's house? Is that really honoring him?

So he gets a car seat for the Impala. He takes DJ out on rides. DJ spits up on the vinyl. He spills his organic 100% all natural no added ingredients cran-razz juice boxes all over everything. Miracle continues to shed everywhere.

DJ goes to kindergarten. He wants to listen to the same dumb kids' music as all his friends. Sam looks for cassettes of it, but of course there aren't any, even on ebay, so he grits his teeth and installs an ipod jack again. His nightmares get worse for a few nights, but nothing bad happens. It's fine and DJ loves it.

No one calls on Dean's old phones anymore. Sam lets the batteries run dead. He listens to his own music in the house and in his other car, of course, but in the Impala, except for DJ's picks, he still only listens to Dean's tapes; the ones that used to be their father's. Miracle scratches the seats up when they forget to trim his claws.

DJ keeps growing. He turns 16. Sam teaches him to drive in his other car, but he should get to drive Dean's car too. Dean would want him to.

Their first drive out together in the Impala with DJ behind the wheel, DJ grins slyly and says, "Hey, dad. I got you some old people music."

DJ shuffles through his ipod, and they drive out together through the autumn countryside, windows down and DJ's pick for Sam blasting from the speakers. His son knows him. It's Green Day, Sam's favorite all those years ago in college.

"Well, maybe I'm the faggot, America," he and DJ sing at the top of their lungs. Red and yellow leaves fall all around them. He feels centered and happy. There's no denying it's good.

"In television dreams of tomorrow, we're not the ones who're meant to follow," they yell together.

Dean would've liked this song if he'd let himself.

Maybe in Heaven when Sam gets there.

#thank you for the ask nonny. you're doing the lord's work #my stuff #post-finale #drabble #Sam Winchester #Sam Winchester & Dean Winchester #Sam Winchester & DJ Winchester #this is a fix it from my perspective but your mileage may vary

[inkyquince]

kiss! excited for you about the tattoo!

also you should talk about your hyperfixation actually 👀 (if you'd like akahakna)

okay so tattoo under cut and then shall be deleted cuz ew thats me, but im so happy with it and its healing really well. kissing ur head @pip-n-chips (sidenote, the void stares back is my handle on discord and i fuckin pissed myself in surrpise)

But who cares because hyperfixation teehee. i got another ask like this so im splitting my bEEG ideas and leaving one out because im fully on page 3 of writing young bruce wayne fuck boy anyway.

for you? for my pip pip cheerio?

BAD brain rot about Red Hood. Of course, mans is hot and depressed, he's my favourite emo boy.

cw. noncon turned dubcon. pseudo-incest but jason and reader aren't blood related. dacryphilia, mentions of blood, tho its ambiguous. VERY DARK AND NARSTY JASON TODD. Usual batfamily depression. Also, yknow, references to Death In The Family.

But as per usual I have to think my little awful thoughts. Where Jason is fully still in his revenge phase, but it warps. Bruce has let him down repeatedly before it hits him that he's let all of othem down repeatedly. Except for one. You, the bloodspare to Damien, the bloodheir, who never was a Robin, never spread your wings. Stayed home, stayed safe and stayed the softest spot in Batman's side. The one person who'd never leave because you didn't set yourself up for that. Even though you were older than Damien by quite a bit, you had seen every single iteration of Robin come and go, they all knew that Damien stood to inherit the mantle, which was what Bruce truly cared about. But you laughed at the jokes about Damien usurping your role as sole inheritor. And you loved your little brother. And you were loved. As the playboy's sweetest kid, by all of his brothers.

When he was Jason Todd, the boy wonder, the Robin, he loved you. But he wasn't that anymore. And he wanted to hurt the man that left him for dead, by hurting the one person his father could see nothing but goodness in, the one he thought of when he stuck by his moral codes even at the death of his sons. He was Red Hood now. He had blood on his hands.

And fuck, he still loved you.

He loved you as a boy, and as a man, his love took on a salty tinge. Sweat on his tongue, as he dragged it up the back of your neck, to your ear as you squirmed inbetween his forearms, pressed against the floor on your belly. Sweet, simple you. Who'd have gone anywhere for him, with one text. And now, you're here, with his cock sheathed fully into your hole, his mask tilted so that his mouth was exposed. Just so he could bite. And lick. And taste. Despite the saltiness, your tears tasted sweet. You whined for your brother to stop, your cheek pressed against the cold concrete floor, and Jason wondered if you knew that this was close to the place he died, wondered if Bruce told you, wondered if he could ever tell you that he was hurting Batman, hurting Bruce, not you.

So he tucks his fingers into your mouth, letting you taste the metal and blood of his digits, and continues to ruin your virgin hole, spreading you more than your sweet hand ever could before.

Worst of all, the part of him that should feel guilty... Doesn't. At least not after you cum all over yourself and the floor, thighs shaking with his own legs spreading them. Got a front row seat to the most beautiful show on earth and the sounds you made? Slipping from begging your brother, to stop, to slow down, to ease up, to whining and groaning. Then weakly grinding against him, stuffing yourself with the rest of his cock. Whispering for Jason, for Red Hood, to continue, to not stop.

He'd take it all. Your virginity, your first kiss, all the work that Bruce had put in to keep you safe, to keep you isolated from the world until it was safe, but he failed. He failed Jason and now he failed you. No signal would draw him near to save either of his children from what was happening, and wouldn't stop the two of you desperately rutting against each other, Red Hood holding you down by your throat just so you wouldn't be able to wriggle away when he finally cum inside of you.

AnyWAY, tattoo under cut, love u pippy.

:P too late, but it's cool tho

#dark jason todd #nsft #quincewrites #pip the beloved #dark red hood #teehee #ask

[peefartress2]

frederick wakes up in a bedroom just like his. he takes in the details once he blinks a few times, processing the new surroundings of the room: his own is so bare that the library feels more his room then the bedroom.

he knows something is wrong when he sees books in his room. frederick jolts out of bed, warily reaching out to trace the spines of the books in a shelf that was not there before. there's history books, books on politics and government. things he considers boring- yet, on his bedside table there is a book on wartime preparations. he may have not exactly let go of fairytales, but that didn't mean he immediately converted himself into a nonfiction purist.

everything else seems the same, except for the things that aren't. his closet is the same, but his desk is not. there's notebooks and open books, and plans and records. the last thing frederick remembers doing there is reading the dogyssey and falling asleep.

what is going on?

if that wasn't enough to tip him off, breakfast definitely was. his mother was absent; but nobody commented on it, so he didn't ask about it.

even in whatever universe this was, the "last one to dinner has to do push ups" rule remained a constant. and that happened to be frederick.

"you're slower than usual, son," said leland, a jovial tone. "are you being overworked? do you need more time off?"

"uh," frederick is unsure how to respond to that. there's a lot to take in there, but he knows leland, and knows what he usually wants to hear. "...no?"

"good. so i can except those plans this week? with counsel from our generals, of course,"

frederick has no fucking clue what he's talking about. "umm... yeah!"

the conversation over breakfast takes a turn. lance jokes around and steals food from his plate, which is fairly normal. what's off this time is blaine, who is joking around with frederick. in all seventeen years of his life, frederick swears that has never happened.

"hey, frederick," blaine said. he seems happy, which is weird, cause when is blaine ever not annoyed or on edge? "we'll see you at practice today, right?"

frederick numbly agrees, because it seems that's all her can do today.

he walks around, observes the changes in the palace. it's more fortified, more dark, more guarded. the decorative sets of armor don't seem so decorative anymore, but like they were guards that could spring to life any moment.

he comes across a huge portrait in the hall. he recognizes leopold's painting style from lance's birthday party, but... frederick couldn't ever imagine leopold painting something like this. though it does capture the gloomy expressions perfectly...

it dawns on him on what the portrait is. who is the portrait is of. king leland and his sons; even laverne, dressed even more extravagantly than normal. leland looks grim, dark and serious. dare frederick says: straight up murderous. his sons are wearing their colors proudly, backs straight and chins up as they glare into the distance. medals and badges decorate their sashes... and frederick is among them, holding what seems to be a book. lance holds a sword, and blaine holds a shield with their family's crest.

his mother is not with them.

frederick is astounded- and when he backs up, he notices more and more portraits. he wanders closer to one of them, and sees the words "siege of the pastel kingdom" on a small plaque underneath. the painting is of his father standing dramatically before the pastel palace. many guards have fallen around him, while his foot is planted on king jack's unconscious. he's... probably sleeping.

and holy shit frederick is scared. this was supposed to be home? no, this was enemy territory- and he was right there with them- was he the enemy? what happened to everyone? what happened to gwen?

"ay, lil bro!" it's lance's voice. "courtyard's this way!"

could he trust lance? lance took a part of this too- was he the same lance? good-natured and excitable and sometimes not so bad. cooler than blaine, in frederick's opinion. his older brother lance.

"i'm with you," frederick called out after him, his throat feeling dry. he jogged through the echoey hall.

outside was startling. it was grey and dull; probably just how his father liked it. lance and blaine's attitudes highly contrasting the scenario frederick found himself in.

there's once thing he knows for certain: he needs to find out what's going on.

#cursed princess club #cookie crumbles #frederick #series: my super evil dark au #very very much so heavily inspired by vinsmoke lore and obelisk #I SPEAK MY TRUTH.

[vampirejuno]

if you have the time and brainpower i would love to hear more abt ander ("ander"?) bc that's such a fun premise. idk if it's "fun" in the canon of the story per se but [insert eyes emoji bc i'm on desktop rn]

Hehehehehehe yesssss >:]

So! I refer to them as "og ander" and "ander" (or Mira, if talking about pre-transition) respectively. Story takes place in a pre-industrial but slightly post-medieval feudal country (unnamed for now lol). The twins are from an important noble family, but, while they're respected, they're not always treated as well as other noble kids because their mother is a non-white foreigner. Mira is a bit more visibly mixed than her brother, but otherwise they look almost identical (despite my art skills).

Now, their mother comes from a matrilineal society where women raise their daughters and leave the sons to the fathers, so she raises Mira according to her customs, and og Ander is raised by their father to be a Good Son and Heir. But the twins are still very close, and every once in a while escape for a day out in nature, usually to the river.

It's kind of implied that they were both trans from the start as they liked to switch clothes as little kids and could pass for each other, until their father caught them doing it. Og Ander later on thinks of it as their souls getting mixed up before they were born. It's a bit easier for Mira at the start because her mother's culture involves martial arts and hunting, something that helps Mira feel more masculine in her father's society. Og Ander however, well..... He saw masculinity as a performance and a duty he had to keep up, until one day when they're about 12 it just wears him out and he can't keep doing it anymore.

So naturally og Ander fakes his death by "drowning" in their river and runs off to be a witch. Mira fully believes he actually died. In their country, there's a folk/religious custom to honor the dead: when a loved one dies, you take on a responsibility over something that was important to that person in life. It can be as small as always feeding their favorite birds or as big as taking their child into your own care, which is where the name of this custom - "taking a ward" - comes from.

Anyways, Mira takes a ward for og Ander - to be a Good Son and Heir, as their father was left without one, until another boy is born to her parents. Mind, nobody outside of the family (except their childhood friend) knows it was og Ander who died cos they looked so similar, so with some effort Mira can pass for her brother well enough. Needles to say neither of her parents is happy about this, but as a religious custom it has to be honored.

So Mira becomes Ander and effectively loses his relationship with both mother and father - the first because he (gonna use he from here on) gave up being a woman and sons aren't important, and the second because his dad's a cunt who cares about Legacy and the Family Name, which isn't a very promising prospect if your heir is "secretly a girl" (and also extremely dyslexic! This will be important), and your Shitty Wife can't birth another son :/

So father sends Ander off to join a special military order dedicated to a specific saint, as is common for young noblemen (this particular one requires members to vow to never speak a lie, so Ander quickly learns to speak indirectly and twist literal truths to adhere to that vow while still keeping his secrets). In the meantime father gets rid of his wife (sends her away, pretends she disappeared and must've died). He then marries Ander's childhood friend (Rika, which btw means river in ukrainian if you put the stress on the other syllable :3). Ander hears about it and comes home.

This is where the important dyslexia comes in. Ander's dad told him he'd inherit everything once he can read out what's written on the family heirloom sword. Ander tried for years to learn, to no avail, and never even found out that the inscription was in a dead language that no one alive remembers. So anyway Ander takes the sword and runs his father through and then fucks off with Rika. Those two have such a weird thing going on but that's a whole separate post

Anyways that's my brief summary of his backstory hehe thank u very much for asking <333 I also have. A little prologue I wrote abt the day og Ander drowns. It's not long and I can post it if anyone wishes to read it 👀

#oc tag #AR #e rika #thanks for the ask! #but really thank u for indulging me i love talking abt this guy

[jiangwanyinscatmom]

Hi~~ i wish you have a nice day, I love your blog.

I'm quite new to the mdzs fandom but i already fed up with them. Just now, i saw some fans said that lxc being a complete jerk towards wwx and lwj. I know lxc made mistakes as well but being a complete jerk? And then proceed to say that the jiangs treated wwx like a real young master eventho he's a servant's son 🥲

I dont know anymore~

I'm so sorry for rambling here, i hope you dont mind.

Good morning anon, no need to feel bad, it's what I'm here for at times.

Personally, no I don't agree with the many more critical takes regarding Lan Xichen. He is not meant to be seen as a major part of the problem(tm) as others within story. He is simply a protective elder brother that is unfortunately kinder and ignorant in a world that is against that very character in a stage that caters towards the politically corrupt and taking advantage of those characteristics. He is not a cruel leader.

His sect at any rate isn't meant to be politically motivated and this is reflective of his teachings. Culturally if you are that heavily based within doaist teachings, it is not actually meant to be used for the political world. There are sayings that to be a good doaist, you aren't a leader or one to be equivalent to an emperor. You aren't meant for politics essentially other than advisory. Can this be disliked, of course, doaism is supposed to be the divorce of human strife from enlightenment, good and bad are not supposed to shake you as neither extreme are complete harmony.

His point narratively is what this practice means for people in the thick of these human issues and the counterproductiveness of pacifism in the face of needing to come to term with punishment of humans and the hypocrisy of this at times you have to fight with personally.

Wei Wuxian as well. He was treated alright and enough for him to be thankful and happy at lotus Pier, but realistically he was not treated well by several there, it was just that he weighed the good against the negative and was comfortable staying to find his happiness with the situation. However, with the given world building status is flung against him as having become too arrogant given he was born a servant's son, and the expectations of him were to also serve as such and obey. This is used against him by his guardians themselves, Jiang Cheng and the world as recompense for having raised him as a cultivator, he also told his own self whatever sacrifices made by him for it, was of an equal sacrifice for having been taken in and raised as such. This is a theme regarding those that are lower class, they are expected to show full gratitude and repayment that those of higher status do not.

"Consider it a repayment of my debt to the Jiangs,” Wei Wuxian added.

Jiang Cheng raised his head and looked at him with bloodshot eyes. “…To my father, my mother, my sister?” he asked in a hoarse voice.

Wei Wuxian rubbed his temple. “Forget it. It’s all in the past. Let’s not bring it up again.”

This wasn’t something he liked to keep reliving. He didn’t want to be forced to remember the sensation of having his core cut out while he was still conscious, nor want to be forcefully reminded of what a sacrifice it had been and what it had cost.

Had this incident been exposed in his previous life, he would most likely have laughed it off. He would have consoled Jiang Cheng with, “It’s really no big deal. Look at me, haven’t I managed for this long without a golden core? I still beat up whomever I want and kill whomever I please.” But he no longer had the strength to keep up a nonchalant act.

Truthfully, he wasn’t unaffected. Could a person so easily resign themselves to such a loss?

Of course not. It was impossible.

Wei Wuxian’s own pride when he was seventeen or eighteen had been, in fact, on par with Jiang Cheng’s. He had also been someone with strong spiritual power and exceptional talent. Even when he’d fooled around all day catching fish and shooting birds, and

climbing walls and playing pranks at night, he had still been leagues ahead of his fellow disciples who actually studied hard.

But whenever he found himself tossing and turning in the dead of night, unable to sleep and plagued by thoughts of how he’d never again follow the orthodox path to the mountain’s peak, never again display the astounding swordplay that made people’s jaws drop…he would turn his thoughts around with a simple fact. If it had not been for Jiang Fengmian bringing him to Lotus Pier, Wei Wuxian might never have crossed

paths with the cultivation world. He would never have been conscious of such a mystical and magnificent realm. He’d merely have been the leader of some homeless street urchins who roamed the streets and fled at the sight of dogs—or perhaps herded cattle and stole vegetables in the countryside, playing his flute and living one day at a time. He’d have had no way of cultivating, let alone a chance to form a golden core.

And at that thought, he’d feel a lot better.

So he treated it as a repayment of his debt, or an atonement for his sins.Treated it as if he had never obtained that golden core to begin with.

After bringing himself around so many times this way, he was almost able to actually feel as wild and carefree as he acted on the surface. He could even half-jokingly praise himself for the state of acceptance he had reached, while he was at it.

But all that was in the past.

His rationale is very similar to what those in poverty or on the cusp tell themselves, be grateful for what is given to you, no more, and always repay what others have given to you despite anything. Don't whine, take it, be grateful, don't ask for more, and expect to pay back in full due to integrity. Note that this is also what Jiang Cheng insists on, but the goals have constantly shifted as to what Wei Wuxian owes him. First it was because of his parents raising him, next, what he owed Yunmeng Jiang due to being a disciple, then, what he made Jiang Yanli "lose".

You cannot repay something that is not tangentially there any longer, hurt feelings do not have closure unless you have to lay them to rest. Wei Wuxian had done his all to protect the Jiang's son as expected and more. Yet this still is not him bemoaning the situation as he rationalized it was what he needed to do based on the chance he was given. Not many else in the work bother to do more than blame others or shift blame and responsibility.

#mdzs #mo dao zu shi #lan xichen #wei wuxian

[voidpacifist]

new idea: what if steve actually has good parents?

sure, maybe he doesn't have good parents at first. maybe his parents are negligent at best and downright out of his life at worst. maybe when his father is caught the first time in an affair, his mother retaliates by following him on all of his trips out of state instead of staying at home? maybe even when she is home, she's always busy.

but then steve starts getting into fights at school. he's popular and he's relatively well liked, even in just eighth grade, but that doesn't mean there aren't people who can and would try to beat the title of king right out of him. believe it or not, it's his busy, couldn't-be-bothered mother who notices first — she's so used to him giving her space that when he rushes home one afternoon with blood and scrapes and a black eye, she freaks the fuck out.

she calls his father home, and sure, his father's season of unfaithfulness is starting, but his mother sounds genuinely worried, and there's nothing he can do from across the country except to return to hawkins to make sure everyone's all in one piece. the cheating doesn't stop after this event, but the attentiveness is new. it's not necessarily the good kind of attentiveness, but now both his mother and his father are paying attention to him.

for about a week, his mother absolutely fusses and frets over him. his father goes back to his work, but not before actually checking in on steve and seeing if he's okay. but his mother is more...around, now. she starts noticing things about her own son that she never noticed before, and as some kind of penance, she starts spending more time with him.

his mother becomes his mom. they make pastas together in the evenings, and she hugs him goodbye every morning before school. for a few short months, she's exactly what he's always needed her to be. then she finds out about his father's cheating, and she starts going on the work trips with him. it fucks with steve more than he cares to admit, but learning his father doesn't love his mother the way he ought to fucks with him more.

by junior year, he's convinced that love is a sham. then he meets nancy wheeler. and their relationship reminds him of the early stages of his parents marriage, back when they paid attention to him and even when they were busy, made the time to show and tell him that they love him. it's not like they don't anymore, but his mother can't dote on him the same away from home and his father's version of love is terse lectures and "straightening him into a man."

he tries to give her everything he can, exude love the way he was taught is good, but they both have their own damage to work out, and the relationship frays until nancy, sixteen and hurting and making stupid choices, ends things. steve doesn't handle it much better — nancy may be a fighter, a doer, but he's a hider of his own feelings to his core. it's a back and forth of "don't you want to do something?" and "don't you know I can't?" they've stalemated themselves.

and it's especially painful because that's exactly how his parents went from being the young, happy couple to being the couple who isn't really a couple. not in the ways that matter.

and then after junior year closes, his parents come home and stay home. he's quick to rebuild something with his mother, who puts in the effort when she can, but his father is a different story. he wants what's best for steve, but has never been around enough for that sentiment to count. he wants steve to have the best in life, but only knows how to drill into him his version of what's best — a college degree, a successful career, and a nice wife and house.

steve hates it, but a part of him really missed having a dad around in the first place. (hopper's even more emotionally available than his own father, and the chief of police is generally a brick wall, save for spite and sarcasm and deep-seeded rage.)

so he tries for his dad, really he does. and his dad, shock of all shocks, starts trying for steve too. their sole hurdle by the time senior year reaches it's final weeks is the fact that no college wants to take steve and his shoddy grades. but his dad isn't heartless, not in the ways that count — he tells steve he needs to find a job, then finds one for him, because he's noticing things about his son now in the opposite way his wife notices. whereas she's been getting to know steve at his core, he's been seeing what the effects of concussions and contact sports are doing to him. he's forgetting things, having trouble with headaches and vision/hearing issues and it scares him half to death even if he'll never say it.

he writes the job off as a way to get steve to "take responsibility," but truthfully, he just knows the hours steve's getting at the mall means he's further out of a fights way. so imagine mr. harrington's absolute dread when he realizes there's been a fire at starcourt, when he rushes himself and his wife to the hospital and they find steve laid up with a grade three concussion and his system flushed for drugs. imagine what that does to a man like mr. harrington.

what it does is this: he doesn't care if steve gets a job anymore as long as he's around.

summer comes and goes, and in the absence of hopper, steve starts becoming somewhat close to his own dad for once. they start talking about things with one another. little things, but still things. bit by bit, they're becoming father and son again the way steve and his mother are mother and son now.

fall of '85 comes around, and steve has a job again, but it's closer to his house this time so that if anything even remotely similar to the government coverup disaster of the summer shows up, he can still be near his parents. they meet robin, and respect it when steve tells them he's not interested in her (even if they don't necessarily believe it). they meet his gaggle of kids, one at a time, and it becomes clear to them just how absent they've been over the years when each kid has a different kind of surprise when they meet. "steve has parents in hawkins?" or "oh...steve didn't mention you two."

spring break of '86 has steve closing up again, which is the last thing his mother and father want from him with an alleged murderer on the loose, and kids going missing left and right. it isn't until the 25th of march, in the early hours of the morning, when steve shows up with said "murderer" bleeding from all sorts of wounds that look entirely inhuman cradled in his arms, with wounds of his own, that they realize something: he never tells them anything for their sakes, not for his own.

they hole up eddie munson in a guest bedroom, suspended between life and death, for several days. they notice things about steve, about his kids, about the way he looks after eddie, about the way he disappears for hours at a time while the sky outside turns red, and it's then that steve harrington's parents become his mom and dad.

#i have wayyyyyyy more thouchts on this but #i just want him to have nice things #i know we all headcanon that his parents are absent/negligent but let my boy have this okay? he deserves to have this #steve harrington #stranger things #steve harrington drabble #steve harrington meta #steve harrington's parents #implied steddie

[harcove]

One More Moment - B.H.

a/n: here's a little angst one shot for you guys as an apology for how slow I'm being rn with requests and a lil something while yall wait. I was super depressed and just couldn't help and couldn't write requests it I needed to do something so I wrote this instead. I hope y'all like it ilysm 💗

Pairing: Billy Hargrove x reader

Length: 1.3k

Warnings: Depression, grieving, death mention, Billy is dead in this, mention of suicide, suicidal thoughts lowkey.

The air is cold. It's the end of fall, and winter is rearing its head. Ready to take over and cover Hawkins in snow and ice.

Two things he hated.

He hated colder weather. He hated Hawkins.

Yet he's stuck here now, forever.

You blow some air onto your cold hands, stepping in front of the tombstone.

William Hargrove.

No one ever called him that. Not one person. Except maybe his dad sometimes. But even then, it was a word used to show hate.

To tie him down.

You always wondered why they wrote William, not Billy on his grave.

Maybe it was because it was his legal full name. Or maybe it was because his father never knew his son enough, loved his son enough, to write the name he always went by. Billy. A way to dehumanize him further than he had already done for eighteen years.

You didn't know. But anyone who knew him knew he never answered to William.

No one used to go to the cemetery. You used to never go to the cemetery. It's mostly older graves for older people. People who were at an age that they were ready to die. But more recently the cemetery started to fill with people who were too young to be here. People who still had lives to live, had people to love, had a chance to be happy. To change.

People like Heather Holloway, Barbara Holland...

Billy Hargrove.

Max had been there recently. You see the remnants of an empty cassette beside the stone. She had started bringing them.

No music on them. His cassettes were too precious now. Too raw to give up, even to his own grave. But music meant something. Those cassettes meant something.

It sort of felt like a connection between herself and the dead brother in the ground- one they didn't get to grow before he died.

Maybe one day Max can let his real cassettes go.

You hope so. It's what you're here to do.

To let go.

To try to let go.

You crouch in front of the stone on cold and dying grass. The fallen leafs from trees skitter around with the wind, performing a weird dance together. It breaks the silence in the graveyard.

"Hey Billy..."

Your voice is soft. So quiet, it's almost as if you didn't speak at all. His name sounds foreign on your lips, but all to familiar at the same time. His name is like a curse and a blessing. You could hardly stand to hear it, but the longer you didn't hear it, the more the boy behind the name really faded away.

He was fading.

And eventually, one day in the future, his grave would be another grave with a name no one recognized; one that no one visited.

You clear your throat, suddenly it's gone dry; it feels like you've been in the desert for months, no water in sight.

"How are you?"

He doesn't answer of course. He's not really there. Yes, the body six feet under is his but its not him. Him is somewhere far away. A place you can't reach.

But this is as close as it gets.

Be always hated small talk like this. But he doesn't have a choice but to listen in silence now.

"I'm..." you want to say you're good, but you're not. You aren't sure you'll ever be good again- it's why you need to to this, "okay."

Okay was safe. It was a non-answer. A lie but not a lie.

You dig your hand into your coats pocket, looking for the rectangular item in your pocket; when your fingers touch it, it burns- it hurts. But that's why you're here. To stop the hurt. To...

"I'm leaving," you say it like you're breaking the ice to your boyfriend.

In some way you are- he was your boyfriend. Is... Was. You can't date a dead man.

"I don't think... I can't stay in Hawkins anymore," you miserably offer to the grave in front of you. You're speaking to dead space- but you need to do it.

Leaving and not telling him feels like a betrayal. Even if it's a stone in the ground- it's... He's...

"I'm sorry," you pull your hand from your pocket, a cassette held tightly in your hands, fingers digging into it- you could break it if you're not careful, "I know Max leaves you empty tapes sometimes. But I thought you might like one with music for once."

It's a tape with a dozen songs. One that you had made with him long ago, in the beginning months of your relationship. Back when things were brighter, when the world around you was colourful and when life seemed to have some hope within it.

Back before Hawkins took everything you loved.

"I can't keep it anymore," the air leaves your lungs shakily- you can feel the emotions building up in your chest, begging to be let out. But if you did that now, you know you won't be able to do this.

And you need to do it.

At first you couldn't. Couldn't listen to it, couldn't look at it. It held all your favourite songs and his favourite songs which would subsequently also become your favourites. You couldn't even listen to music for a while after because it stung. It hit too deep, bled too much. It was something you enjoyed doing with him in his room, in his Camaro. Anywhere.

It didn't bring you happiness anymore; it only deepened the gaping wound that he had left when he died.

But over time you listened to it again. One song a day. Till you listened to it all. And then you listened again, and again, on repeat. In your car, in your room, anywhere.

The songs became an escape. One where when you closed your eyes and blocked everything else out, you could imagine in those minutes that he was right there. That he was laying with you. Or standing behind you and putting his hands in your jeans pockets pulling you close.

Sometimes you swore you could feel him. Feel his touch. Smell is cologne. Feel his love.

But then the songs would end. And your eyes would open and everything was grey again.

Everything hurt again.

Because he wasn't there. And he wouldn't ever be there again. You were only fooling yourself; using this tape as an escape from a reality you needed to face. You were fading away, just like he was, but you were still living in all ways that mattered medically.

Beating heart, pumping blood, functioning limbs, warm skin.

The other half of you was dead.

It would kill you.

He would kill you, even in death, Billy Hargrove was your greatest weakness. And he'd kill you if you didn't stop.

Maybe you should have let him. But he'd be angry. So, so angry. And Max too. Your family. Friends.

At what point did you stop your own hurt instead of stopping others hurt?

Closing your eyes as tight as you can, you place the tape onto the grave in front of you. It feels like a weight is lifted, but at the same time, like a new one has arisen.

It is pain. It is hurt. It is agony. It is a love that you can't ever express the way you want to because he's not there to recieve it. It is a darkness that threatens you and tells you this is the wrong choice.

But you need to. To let him go, to get away. Before Hawkins (and the ghost of a dead man) swallows you whole. Drowns you.

"Take care of it, please."

You know the weather will destroy the tape. Maybe it will find its way back to him wherever he is- wherever death takes you. You can't say where, you don't know where. Anything could be possibly considering all Hawkins had shown you.

When you stand and turn away, hand still burning metaphorically from where the tape had been, the wind blows a harsh gust. It goes through you like you're a rickety old house, holes and all, just a skeleton.

It's cold. But it feels like you're being wrapped up by the wind into a hug. For one moment, a single, fleeting moment, you aren't alone.

Then it's gone. Just like everything else. The wind dies down as quickly as it came, and its quiet again, the leaves settling. You're alone.

Hawkins couldn't have you. You wouldn't let it. No matter how much part of you wanted it to take you.

All you needed was one more moment with him. And that was it.

#billy hargrove x reader #mine #billy hargrove fanfiction #billy hargrove #stranger things #stranger things fanfiction #billy hargrove angst #billy hargrove x reader angst #amy writes #my writing

[just-an-enby-lemon]

Jonathan Crane does not celebrate christmas. His grandma did and it was hell and he just hates everything that happens after Halloween anyway. Except Jervis Tetch is absolutly a christimas fan, the songs, the lights, the decorantions, the music, the food, the snow, Santa Claus, Jervis loves everything about it. His house is always the best decorated if a little bit over the top, his dolls are all dressed for the occasion and he even helps poor kids dressed as Santa before going for his own house and having a themed tea party.

Now Jonathan Crane hates most things and he specially hates christmas but he loves Jervis. And that means that suddently christmases aren't just another work day perfecting his formula and studying it's results anymore. Decemeber isn't the same month. He spends it decorating the house and putting a beutifull tree that would likely make Ivvy murder them if she ever sees it. He goes gift shopping of all things (and worse he has to call Edward and Harley to help him choose something for Jervis!)! He wears the most stupid elf costume and likely scares the kids Jervis is helping. He cooks! And he sings stupid cherry songs. And he hates everthing about it but it's soo damm worth it to see Jervis beam with joy and his eyes crinker and the soft hugs and passioned kisses and the soft ones at the mistletoe and even how cute Tetch looks in the dumb Santa hat.

- / -

Ivvy is not very into christmas, she sees it for the capitalistic waste that it is and while she enjoys gift making, her only celebration is to put her pine three on the front of the house as an statement that growing your own tree is waay better to all parts than to kill one.

Harley is jewish. She likes Hannukkah but where jewish celebrations are concerned is not really as important or showey as christmas is for christians and neither is her favorite. So different of what people might expect Christmas Eve is not really important in the Harlivvy household. During the weeks leading to it Harley decorares Ivvy's tree and goes to gift shoppings with Eddie and Selina and recently Crane and Ivvy celebrates Hannukah with her even if just to show support. The day itself is mostly spend cuddling in the sofa with take out and watching bad romance movies. They love it.

-.-

Edward does not care for christmas and never truly did. His mother was jewish and his father was an asshole. Hannukkah with his mom was nice, it was almost as if there was only the two of them for a while. Christmas after his mother was bleak and either just a bunch of nothingness and hidding under the sheats with the knowledge his dad was getting drunker downstairs or worse his dad would cry and say he regretted everyting and try to pretend it was all okay and do a nice father-son christmas day, it never lasted and the wait until things went wrong was unsuferable.

Diedre's christmas were full of catholic guilty and sexist parents and expectations she would never truly met. Of having her girlfriends be called close friends and listening to old aunties ask when she would settle down and marry already even though she wasn't even eighteen. Of treats of hell and treats of violence. It's not really surprising she stopped liking it at age eight and never went back.

Nina's parents never cared. Her dad was ethinically jewish and her mother was a chinese imigrant and neither could really give a shit about Jesus birthday. Not going to school was nice. And her parents deserved a day off for how tired they were all the time. They would play board games and her dad would make some simple and delicous meal. Christmas on the orphanage was full of people pretending to care for one day only and she was glad she only stayed a year before getting her emancipation and her late parents tiny appartment to bolt.

Their first time together was akward glances and shy gift exchanging (between the girls and Eddie, Diedre and Nina played by different rules with each other) and plotting to do a heist just the three of them only to give up and end in a bent up sofa watching bad horror movies and eating chinese and it was better than annyone had expected. It became a tradition. Nina would cook her parents old recipies and Diedre would create beutifull decorantions that were completly off brand from spider webs to easter bunnies to just ridiculous random themes like collages of shakesperean characthers and Edward would make not even a little bit christmacy playlists and sing anything from the soundtrack of Phantom of the Opera to The Beach Boys back to the poor confused carrollers who dared to ring their bell (it wasn't that he was a bad singer but answering to "we wish you a merry christmas" with Taylor Swift was a certain way to rise some eyebrowns) and somehow find the funnier worst horror movies ever made.

They would shop separadly both for the surprise effect of the presents and becase the girls did not like it as much as Nygma. Edward was enrapted by the puzzle of finding the perfect present and was a massive fan of dressing up wich ended with him going not only for himself but again for Jonathan and Harley and any other rogue who wanted his assistance.

It was their own little traditions and their own little family in the end.

-|-

Victor used to love christmas. Mostly because Nora loved it and appeared to shine in the hollyday sheer. They would decorate the tree and make a pretty snowman and just be happy together. She would always point out that more than the lights and the food and the gifts and anything really she was just happy to do it all with him. He would annoy her by singing "All I want for Christmas is You" in her ear while she failed to complain as all her trials were stopped by laughter until they were both laughting together.

Without Nora christmas was just another day of work. Another day trying to find a cure. One day she would be back and he would still be lonley because they still had to much to mend and he couldn't see himself as worthy. But this would pass. And one day she would be back and they would be together and this time she would sing "All I Want for Christmas is You" and he would try to deny it, to point out how she needed and deserved much more, only to end up laughting and they would kiss and things would be alright. One day. Soon. But not today.

-|-

Christmas for Harvey was bittersweet. His stepfather was a dick and growing up seing the good christmas on TV he wanted that. He had that for a while with Bruce and Gilda and the Gordons, the perfect christmas. The tree and the food and the feeling of belonging for once.

But good things aren't meant to last and christmas as Two-Face was bleak and empty and he would toss a coin for either going to the Iceberg's boring party or comiting a crime. It was empty.

This time he was in Arkham and christmases in Arkham were always bad. The staff was pissed of that they were working and it would always end up bad for the inmates. Except this time they took him to the visitation area. For an old man with glasses and a young woman with red hair. The Gordons didn't go for the Wayne party for once.

Christmas with the Gordons was bittersweet. But that was just how he liked it. And with his belly full of cheap turkey and microwave lasagna, playing Mario Kart with Barbara and a videogame illiterated Jim, Harvey felt like he belonged once again.

-|-

Christmas with Selina meant christmas with the Waynes for a long time. The difference was that before it meant go to the cover up high society partys and steal some jewelry, now it meant family celebrations.

It was not fair to call it chrisrmas, most of the Waynes (and Co.) were jewish and the ones who weren't weren't christian either, Dick was romani, Thalia was hindu and Duke and Steph (her mother usually worked on Christmas because being a nurse meant that hollydays turns were a likely possibility) were atheists from birth. But they had a tree and a feast and they loved each other.

The cat, the bats, the birds and the assassins. They made a weird picture and Selina loved it. She loved Dick jokes and hugs and Jason begrudgingly presence and well though home made gifts he would badly lie about finding in the garbage. She adored Steph sheer and sarcastic quips and Tim obligatory game moments. Duke's wild tales and Damian competitviness and sweet tooth. She would have the time of her life with Kate's childhood stories and Helena who would always appear late and lie she didn't care but also bring some new desert she totally didn't spend weeks learning with Alfred's help. She would melt at Bruce's barely hidden excitment over having they all there and Thalia's not even a little bit hidden kisses. The Gordon's didn't appear this year: family emergencies they said. And it was sad but it was okay. Harper and Cullen did and she was sure that was only the first of many times and they were happy and was cute.

Selina had a family now. A huge one. And she had no idea what it meant but the days were warm.

-/-

For Oswald Christmas Eve meant organizing the Iceberg Anual Party to perfection, grating his patrons a good time in exchange of his own enjoyment and being called a Grinch and other way less polite insults by all his workers. He didn't care. Growing up christmas with his family was good but scarse, the Cooblepot name was disgraced, they had no money and his dad had abandoned them the moment he realized his kid was truly disfigurated. The celebrations were only him and his mom and she did her best, god bless her soul, she truly did, she would starve to give him a book about birds from Santa, but they always had soo little. He dreamed of giving her the best. Maybe he did. In her last days. But it wasn't enought.

And maybe it had turned him a bit bitter. Or so his workers thought, he would do the celebration and count the dollar bills. He would go to church on Christmas Day and pretend to be a good catholic boy only to go back to his second party round and make his employees life hell (with maybe some murder involved). He was just a bitter Scrooge they would say behind his back. But Oswald didn't care.

The real celebration for Penguin was neither of those days. His true moment of joy was the 26th were he would host his dinner for all the A-Lister Rogues not currently arrested (with the exception of Joker as he was just too trigger happy for the occasion and after their break up it was also a matter of chosing either the clown or Harley and it was not a hard choice at all). It was all he had wished with his mother, full of pretty lights and food but still full of joys and friends and warm.

#Christmas Post #fluffy #christmas headcannons #batman rogues #scarecrow #jonathan crane #mad hatter #jervis tetch #hattercrow #edward nygma #riddler #nina damfino #diedre vance #query and echo #harley quinn #pamela isley #poison ivvy #harlivvy #victor fries #mr freeze #nora fries #harvey dent #two-face #selina kyle #catwoman #batfam #thalia al ghul #oswald cobblepot #penguin

[mithrilbookofmystery]

WHAT DO YOU MEAN THE GAY FIREFIGHTERS AREN'T CANON!? AND WHAT DOES A COUCH HAVE TO DO WITH IT??? - from, an outsider who's invested but has no clue what's going on (P.S. I wish you the best with the rest of the season lol)

I MEAN THEY AREN'T CANON 😭 To be quite honest, and I hate to be the one to break this to you, but we don't even know for sure if they're gay 😔

But LONG(ish) story short(ish), there was a scene in the season opener where Buck (gay firefighter A - actually no wait gay firefighter B bc his name is Buck - aka the blond one, if you identify them through that) was complaining to Eddie (gay firefighter A, aka the dark haired one) that Bobby (their captain/also kinda Bucks father figure) wasn't thinking about naming Buck interm Captain while Bobby went on his belated honeymoon (he and his wife got married like 4 seasons ago I think but they've been, like, busy and shit rip in pieces) and he's complaining to Eddie whiLE HE MAKES EDDIE AND CHRISTOPHER (Eddie's son) (also somewhat Buck's son but if I went into that we'd be here literally all day) LASAGNA IN HIS APARTMENT and Chris says "maybe it's because you don't have a couch" while he looks pointedly back at where there is a large empty spot in Bucks living room where a couch should be because Chris is cheeky like that and we love him, and Buck's like "well my last two couches came with girlfriends" because this is true, and then Eddie goes "no, your last two girlfriends came with couches" because this is a much better way of putting things and Eddie's been going to therapy all last season so he knows how to do that now, and then Eddie goes "Taylor (Bucks last girlfriend) left four months ago, you could have replaced that couch by now" while fucking staring Buck down in the eyes in the soul and Buck goes "maybe I'm afraid of choosing the wrong one" and we're not talking about couches anymore we're talking about relationships. Got that? Good.

And then at the end of the episode, Bobby names Hen (who is the actual canon gay firefighter of the show and we do not talk about her enough we should all be talking about her more we love her we stan <3) as the temporary captain and then he goes to talk to Buck about it, and says that he didnt choose Buck because Buck doesn't have enough life experience, and Buck just kinda. Deflates. And goes "is this because I don't have a couch?" And Bobby is SO fucking confused by this god bless and says "Why don't you have a couch???" (as any normal person would ask) and meanwhile Buck is still in the relationship metaphor and goes "I'm afraid of making another mistake" bc Buck relationships are NOTORIOUSLY messy and Bobby sees what's going on because he always does and he talks about how Buck needs to learn to look at what he has in his life now and know that it's good, and he deserves to learn to settle. And then later, in the closing montage (except not bc theres a plot twist at the last second but its about other characters, you dont need to worry about that) there's a clip of Eddie and Chris playing a game together for like. Really no reason?? Like everyone else in the closing montage had Something going on in the episode that needed a few seconds of closure, they really didn't Need to cut back to Eddie and Chris but they did and anyways immediately after that it cuts to Buck as if he was looking at them, or at least he's looking at the table where Eddie and Chris were earlier, and he smiles, Bobby's words about seeing what you have in your life right now in front of you still ringing in our ears and I tell you I GASPED at Bucks little smile, ok? And then he picks up the armchair he's always had and moves it to where the couch used to be and sits down in it. Because he has what he needs right here.

And then another small thing: Buck canonically sleeps on Eddie's couch sometimes. He has done this multiple times in the past. He will likely do it again in the future and the second Eddie asks him to stay over is the day this fandom combusts and explodes

#and the fucking lasagna convo in and of itself #the parallels between buck wanting to be chosen by bobby and also maybe possibly being chosen by eddie. exquisite. im going feral #911 spoilers #911 on fox #buddie #buck 911 #eddie 911 #911 #911 fox

[thiswasinevitable-rwrb]

Sleepy Hollow au where Alex is a brujo but doesn't quite know it (or admit to himself) and his family moves to New England for his parents' work. He's not thrilled since he's going from a very mixed race society (Mexico still owns Texas) to a very conservative one.

At least, he thinks it's conservative, but then he thinks they're bat shit crazy due to their superstitions.

Autumn descends, and t night, wolves sing loudly in the woods. Then it's not just the wolves, but the dogs in the village. Alex hears a horseman riding down the streets and over the nearby bridge. He's used to a noisy neighborhood, but this is something else. The whole town swears they don't hear anything, but they outright threaten him to stay inside at night. Shudder the windows and blow out any flames.

It's Alex, so he doesn't. The horseman comes around like clockwork, probably a delivery person of some kind, bringing the papers from New York or Philadelphia, or doing the late night work of some other business. Goodness knows the silversmith stays up at all hours, so he's probably the one paying the obnoxious rider...

Alex sees the dog first. A smallish hound that sees him right back. It bays up at the moon, and through the shadows, a large horse's silhouette joins the dog's. Alex knows a male rider when he sees one, but the headless horseman legend might not be a legend after all.

The rider and dog run off, but Alex finds them night after night. He even manages to get way too close and learns that the dog is dead - cloudy blue eyes, half its jaw missing, and somehow still walking and running with a compound fracture sticking out of its legs.

It's when the horseman lifts the dog to carry it that Alex sees the glint of a ring on his pinkie.

Another night, push comes to shove, and Alex wrestles that ring off the zombie's hand and flees. All he has to go on is a gold signet ring, the curvaceous H stamped on it, and the almost worn away engraving inside:

act ii, sc iii XXXVI - XLIX

He has no idea what it means. He's assume it's a Bible verse except his sister has been making trips to the nearby cities to see the plays. She collects the scripts and tells him it's a citation from a play. But which one?

Alex runs out of time trying to figure it out, because the next night, an incessant knocking rattles the house door in its frame before being knocked down entirely.

To both Alex's and June's surprise, the horseman holds out his hand. Alex sets the ring on his dead palm, and he...leaves. For having no brain, the body is oddly sentient.

"Did you see his clothes?" June asks.

"What? No, I'm busy looking for his eyes."

"It's a stage costume. He's wearing a stage costume. It's too colorful."

Long story short, June and Alex search through records to find an actor who died with an H last name. Instead they find Arthur, an actor with a son named Henry. They died in the same week.

"Which one is it?"

"Henry. It must be Henry," June insisted.

"A father would wear his son's ring," Alex reasoned. "He's looking for something every night."

Either way, Alex must find out how they died, and why one of them is riding. The real question, is who is the horseman searching for every night? The search is getting more and more invasive. The townspeople aren't able to turn a blind eye anymore, and things are getting violent.

And yet, the horseman never harms Alex.

#this got long #i'll stop #sleepy hollow!au #ficlet #indulgent post #rwrb #firstprince #red white & royal blue #red white and royal blue #brujo!alex #zombie!henry

[howlingday]

Jaune Strife AU: Cloud and Tifa finding out that he inherited their desire for a strong dorky love intrest (the girl he's crushing on is up to you)

"So Jaune," Tifa smiled as she glanced at her son from behind the bar, "any pretty girls in your life?"

Jaune almost choked on his water. Coughing, he reached for the napkins and started wiping the bar. "M-Mom?! Where did that come from?!"

"I'm just asking, sweetie." Tifa giggled, before slapping her palms against the countertop. "Now spill it. Who's my boy crushing on?"

"Well, to be honest, I'm not crushing on anyone anymore." Jaune answered, knowing his mother wouldn't stop.

"Anymore?" Tifa asked. "Who was it before?"

"It was Weiss." Jaune waved his hand. "But she's made it clear she's not interested. After the dance, I kind of stopped trying."

"Well, that's no good." Tifa folded her arms. "How many times did you try before?"

"I don't know." Jaune said. "I kind of lost track."

"Well there's your problem," Tifa wagged her finger, "you came on too strong. You probably looked pretty desperate."

"Yeah." Jaune sighed.

"Well, what about the other girls? Like, say, for instance, off the top of my head, Pyrrha?"

"No way." Jaune shook his head. "Pyrrha's just a friend. She could have any guy she wants."

"Well, what if she wants you?" Jaune paused at this. "Maybe she's been throwing signsls at you this whole time and you never noticed?"

"Hm..." Jaune sat in deep thought for a moment, then shook his head. "Nah, no way. We're just friends, and that's how she'd like it to stay."

"Alright." Tifa shrugged. "I just hope you aren't pulling what your father did and making a girl wait for no reason."

"I'm not." Jaune sighed. "Besides, I'm not exactly interesting, like Sun, or Neptune, or even Cardin."

"You're plenty interesting." Tifa looked over to see his friend Nora sitting at the far end of the bar, wearing a fake mustache. She suddenly hid behind her magazine and coughed, making her voice deeper. "Uh, s-stranger."

"Uh, thanks, stranger." Jaune chuckled. "But what do you mean by that?"

"W-Well," the stranger coughed, "this is just what I heard from a couple of students in here before-"

"Like Nora Valkyrie?"

Nora coughed again, this time really hard into her shirt.

"Uh, do you need a drink, hon?" Tifa asked.

"N-No, I'm fine." Her coughing started to sound hoarse and real, all into her shirt.

"Nora, are you wearing a microphone?" Jaune asked.

"I'VE BEEN COMPROMISED!" Nora jumped from her seat, landed in a combat roll on the wooden floor and bolted through the door.

"...So, what about her?" Tifa asked.

"I don't know." Jaune said. "She's cute, but I feel like Ren wouldn't like it."

"Are they dating?" Tifa asked.

"No, they're not together-together." Jaune shook his head. "But it's like, I'm dating his best friend, so I'm putting their friendship on the line by us dating."

"Well, that's very considerate of you." Tifa nodded. "Now, about the other three girls..." Jaune groaned. "How about the quiet one? With the bow?"

"Blake?" Jaune quirked an eyebrow. "I mean, I barely talk to her, so I think it would be kind of weird if we started dating."

"Well, you never know if you don't try." Tifa countered. "Better to try now than regret later. And believe me, sometimes what if can be the worst question to ever ask."

For a moment, Jaune followed his mother's gaze to behind the bar. There, his parents were smiling with their team, Avalanche, with everyone Jaune knew... except one girl, who wore a pretty red bow and cute, long dress. Light brown locks flowed past her shoulders as a sweet face smiled at him.

"But it's your life." Tifa sighed. "So, what about the other two? Uh, Ruby?"

"Well, she is a really good friend, and she's been there for me since the beginning." Jaune smiled. "I feel like if the world came crashing down around us, I know she'd have my back, just like my team." Tifa smiled. She felt the exact same way about Cloud, both growing up and on their mission to save the planet. "But I doubt her sister would approve of it."

"Oh?" She then fowned suddenly. "And why is that? Does miss hotshot think she's too good for my son?"

"No, I think she's just being a good older sister, like Saph was when I was being picked on." Tifa nodded, thinking back on the times she had to play that role herself. "She kind of reminds me of you in a way, Mom."

"Oh?" Tifa smirked. "Are those old stories true, then? Do men really look for wives just like their mothers?"

"It's not like that, Mom." Jaune rolled his eyes. "I'm just saying you are both strong, independent women who would rather punch the problem away instead of solving it with something other than your fists."

"You say that like it's a bad thing." Tifa chuckled. "Besides, your dad likes my punching. He says it's part of my charm."

"No, he says, 'Ow, quit punching my arm'."

Tifa shrugged. "I know what I heard."

#rwby #rwby au #jaune strife au #tifa lockhart #jaune arc #final fantasy #final fantasy series #final fantasy 7 #nora valkyrie