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propertyofwicked · 26 days

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speed demon - LN

warnings: speeding + dangerous driving, references to sex

short fluff :) fewtrell!reader -> can be read as a stand alone or an extra to the secrets series!

my take on a BTS of the quadrant athletes video with willne and bambinobecky :) p.s hey caitlin i know ur reading this

lando’s girlfriend was a concerning driver. growing up in the english country side, especially with her racing-mad brother max, she became very accustomed to driving at insane speeds down backroads, learning where the swerve potholes and where all the cameras were. honestly, put her in an f1 car with a good song and watch max verstappen crumble.

her brother and his friend could speed around race tracks, y/n preferred real roads.

the only flaw in her driving ability arose when lando, who notoriously hates being a passenger, sat to her left, gripping any hard surface he could as his girlfriend threw her car around a corner.

“y/n, angel, you know i love you - but why do you drive like you had somewhere to be 10 minutes ago?”

“this is a good song,” she answered with a shrug, which only confused him further, yet she slowed down, glancing at the man besides her, “it’s got a good bassline. you literally drive at like 200 miles an hour and yet you’re getting stressed about me going 80 on an empty road?”

“the difference between you and me is that i wear a helmet when i drive that fast.”

“no one is stopping you from putting a helmet on in my car, lan.”

“erm, i think the national speed sign meaning 60mph should be enough that i shouldn’t need to wear a helmet in your car y/n.”

“god you’re so dramatic, lando - has anyone ever told you that?”

“yes. you. the last time i complained about your driving, you little speed demon,” he said, finally laughing quietly at the situation.

in fact, they were late. they were supposed to be at a quadrant shoot in 10 minutes, but still needed to pick up will and becky from the station near to the warehouse they were filming in. when they finally reached the station, lando jumped out of the car to meet them, leaving y/n to sit in silence, queuing a few songs for the short journey to the shooting location.

“y’alright y/n?” will asked, climibing into the back seat of her car, becky climbing in from the other side.

“i’m good, thank you will. how are you?”

“im good, however i’ll let you know how i feel after ive experienced your driving,” he joked, earning a guilty chuckle from lando who was buckling himself back into the passenger seat. her hand rose, slapping his arm lightly.

“hey! my driving is not that bad.”

“let them find that out for themselves, angel,” he responded, dramatically rubbing his arm, feigning pain. she ignored him, shoving the car into gear before jamming her foot onto the accelerator, the loud engine loud enough to wake the dead.

when they did arrive at the shoot, will had gone silent, his face paler than usual. becky was still smiling and chatting, but her face conveyed the same level of fear as wills. the group of them walked into the warehouse, where max was already waiting.

y/n walked up to max, taking him in a small embrace before stepping back to let him greet the rest of the group.

“will? you good man? you look like you’ve seen a ghost,” max said, taking a step back to look at the man a second time.

“yeah, yeah, im good,” he responded, smiling sheepishly. y/n absentmindedly played with her car keys, the jingling of her key rings raising max’s attention.

“lando let you drive? jesus, no wonder will looks like he needs a fresh pair of trousers,” max laughed, doubling over.

“why does everyone think im such a bad driver? i have not crashed once. never. not a single crash. the same cannot be said for you or lando, max,” she exclaimed, beginning to feel offended at the accusations.

“in all fairness, lando warned me. i thought he was joking when he said she loved the accelerator more than she loves him,” will replied, the colour coming back to his face as he smiled. max shook his head at his sister again, before directing will and becky round to the sofas, running them through the plans for the day.

y/n felt a warm pair of arms snake around her body from behind, lando’s head coming to rest on her shoulder. he turned his head to look at her, pressing a quick kiss to her cheek.

“im not actually a bad driver, am i?” she mumbled to him.

“no angel, people are just jealous of your sheer ability to drive at dangerous speeds and do it safely,” he responded, he meant to be sincere but y/n could feel the sarcastic undertones.

she shook her head at him, pulling away from his embrace, but his hand reached out, latching onto hers, before pulling her back into him. this time her chest melted into his, her head tilting to glance up at him.

“i hate this scarf,” she announced, but stretched her neck up to presses soft kisses along his jaw.

“ouch. why? i like it.”

“’cos it covers your neck. i love your neck,” she said, smiling up at him again.

“i know you do angel. your love for my neck is the reason i have to wear a scarf for the shoot today,” he said, laughing, his hands moving from her back to push loose strands of her behind her ears. a blush rose up her cheeks at the memory of the night before, as her fingers moved to pull the scarf down slightly looking at the bruises beginning to darken on his skin.

she hadn't meant to, but she had found herself on top of him last night, legs straddling him as his pushed up into her. with max only a room over, she needed to find an outlet for the noises she wanted to make and his neck fell victim.

“whoopsies. but im sure the lando girlies would love to see you with hickies.”

“i’m sure they would,” he said, grinning at her still and nodding slightly, “im sure your brother would love it to,” he added sarcastically, glancing over to the man in question who was now handing becky a script.

she tutted in response, pulling his scarf back up to covering his neck. lando’s head tilted down to look at her again, using his hands on her jaw to pull her face up closer to his. his lips pressed soft kisses to her forehead and cheeks before finally planting a soft but quick peck to her lips.

“lando did you want to stop getting it on with my sister and come and do your job?” max bellowed from across the room, pulling the two apart.

lando decided he should probably drive the two of them home that day, and let max take the others back to the station, but the moment the car moved off from where it was parked, he stalled the engine.

"formula 1 driver but can't drive a manual without stalling it. that's embarrassing - now who can't drive?" she joked, laughing at him as he restarted the ignition.

"still you," he replied bluntly, his foot slamming down on the accelerator sending the car flying across the car park.

"please don't destroy my car," she begged quietly at the sound of her engine about to take off, "a man i quite like bought it for me and id hate to make him angry when he has to buy me new tyres."

"ill just buy you another car," he joked as he returned to the speed limit of the road ahead, his hand moving from the gear stick to rest on her thigh, grabbing lightly at it.

"you're not a bad driver, you know that, don't you angel?" he said after a few minutes of silence. he'd admit that she wasn't the best driver, but she was still skilled even if slightly reckless.

"i know," she said, her voice still heavy with the annoyance from everyone's teasing.

"you would be great at karting, you know?"

"stop it - i spent my entire childhood trying to avoid karting please do not bring it into my adulthood," she begged, albeit jokingly.

"why did you avoid it? im sure max would've loved to race with you," lando asked, glancing to his side to look at her face, her head leaning on the door panel.

"it was max's thing, i guess. i didn't want to do what he did. i wanted to be my own person. i still do," she said with a shrug. lando's hand moved from her thigh to grab hers, pulling it up to his face to press a kiss to the back of it.

"i'm glad you're unapologetically you. i don't think i could cope with two max's in my life. or two of you for that matter."

#lando norris #lando norris x reader #lando norris smut #lando x reader #lando smut #lando norris imagine #lando norris fanfic #formula 1 #mclaren f1 #mclaren #lando norris fluff #propertyofwicked #maxfewtrell #fewtrell!sister

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rarepears · 3 months

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A nearby country just had a new monarch ascend the throne. Cang Qiong, as was the norm, was invited to pay their respects to the new monarch, reaffirm the standing alliance between cultivators and mortals (which pretty much boiled down to cultivators kill evil things, mortals stay out of cultivation affairs plus some trade agreements), and ensure that the previous monarch's soul wasn't still lurking around the palace as a ghost. You know, the standard stuff.

So Yue Qingyuan didn't think much when he sent the usual delegation of Shen Qingqiu (to handle the political negotiation and come back with observations of the new Emperor), Shang Qinghua (trade agreements), and Qi Qingqi (to talk with the court ladies and government official wives for the gossip).

The last thing he expected was for the new Emperor to recognize Shen Jiu as the little brother who went missing when the previous Emperor - the new Emperor's paternal uncle, from what Yue Qingyuan understood - undertook a military coup to secure the throne.

---

When Shen Yuan finally killed his super fucking evil tyrant uncle who had been sending a million assassins after Shen Yuan and his (unfortunately now dead) brothers, he got saddled with the throne. He knew that was going to happen! It was something he wasn't asking for, but it was either regain the throne or let his uncle finally succeed in killing him, the rightful Emperor, off. It was pretty shitty that his first month in this new world involved surviving a military coup in the palace where his new dad was murdered by his new uncle for the throne. If Shen Yuan thought being transmigrated into a body that drowned in the pond because of some harem politics for the crown prince position was bad, well, his life got a whole lot fucking worse.

But things were over. He was crowned emperor, had a million super tight best friends all high up in his government backing him, and even the cultivators were recognizing his reign as the legit one, so he was all fine.

Right??

NO! Because why the fuck was he just realizing now that his second life was actually taking place in PIDW and why the fuck was that Shen Qingqiu and the Cang Qiong delegation??? Like, he was busy living on the streets and plotting to retake the throne, sure, but how could he had missed that Cang Qiong was that Cang Qiong!?

Fuck, fuck, fuck. Where in the PIDW plot line was he in now? How far along is Shen Qingqiu busy torturing the protagonist and how much longer does Shen Yuan even have to rule his country before the protagonist comes to conquer? How the fuck is he going to stop the plot from continuing - how is he going to remove Shen Qingqiu from the plot?

Shen Yuan isn't proud to admit it, but he rolls with the first shitty idea that pops into his head.

He claims that Shen Qingqiu is his missing younger brother - he had like three dozen of them to be honest, his second life's dad was one horny motherfucker - and tries to keep Shen Qingqiu from going back to Cang Qiong under all sorts of familial pretenses.

Shen Yuan is sure that Cang Qiong is merely humoring his insanity by letting Shen Qingqiu go along with it all, having "family dinners" and making small talk while being careful to skirt around any true political talk, but his plan hasn't backfired on him yet.

YET.

He's sitting on this ticking timebomb and Shen Yuan might be in his 40s but he still feels like the same stupid 20 something year old writing 5k word diss reviews on PIDW chapters some days. If only he had a system to help guide him out of his own mess.

(Meanwhile Shen Jiu: I HAVE AN OLDER BROTHER WHO LOVES ME???? but I'm still sus about his motives. I will reluctantly allow him to shower me in presents and praises and spend time with him to investigate more.)

#svsss #svsss au #svsss ideas #shen qingqiu #shen jiu #mxtx #shen yuan #scum villain's self saving system #shen yuan is emperor and claims that shen qingqiu is his missing younger imperial brother AU

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danikamariewrites · 4 months

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I absolutely adore and love your housewife Feysand series, it’s so good rishshdkdbdkck

I propose an idea, even though reader is usually always at home/Velaris, what if they got kidnapped??? And reader gets injured and Feysand go INSANE trying to find them and it’s just angsty hehehehehe BONUS POINTS if it’s just fluff and overprotective central once they rescue and find reader

Gone Girl

Feysand x reader

A/n: thank you anon! I love this little series and I’m so glad others are enjoying it

Warnings: angst, kidnapping, injuries, eventual fluff

As Feyre walked home, hand in hand with Nyx, she couldn’t help but go over today’s events. She hadn’t seen you since this morning. Which isn’t unusual but occasionally you’d pop in to say to her and Rhys while they worked.

Maybe your brunch with Mor had run longer than you thought it would? But you would’ve let them know you weren’t going to pick Nyx up from school. You always pick Nyx up from school.

As the pair entered the house Feyre saw Mor pacing in the living room. Worry on her face as she bit at her perfect nails.

Feyre crouched down in front of Nyx, giving the sweet boy a small smile. “Uncle Cass is in the kitchen, go ask him to help you with your after school snack.” The boy nodded excitedly, his floppy black hair swishing with his movements. “Ok mommy.” He gave Feyre a quick kiss on the cheek before running off to get the most unhealthy snack his uncle could find him.

Making her way over to Mor, Feyre tilted her head curiously. She took Mor’s hands before asking, “What is it?” “Y/n didn’t come to brunch. I haven’t seen her all day.” Feyre’s heart sank into her stomach. A moment later Azriel came bursting through the front door like a mad man. His shadows frantic as he yelled for his brother. “Rhys! Rhys we have a problem!”

Before Azriel could make his way up the stairs Feyre winnowed in front of him. Her hands pushed against his chest as the sapphire siphons flared, the only annoyance he showed at being bared from Rhys. When he realized Feyre was in front of Azriel pulled his High Lady up the stairs to the High Lords office.

Rhys jumped up from his chair as Azriel slammed the door. His still panicked demeanor scaring the pair. “Azriel what’s going on?” Feyre asked desperately. The spymaster got right to the point. “Y/n has been taken. A rival camp to Windhaven has reported rogue members, they think the group of males took her. A few of my spies noticed them in the city not well disguised.”

Feyre let out a cry, covering her mouth. Silver lined her eyes as Rhys held her up. He pressed his face to her head giving her a small, reassuring kiss. Rhys took a deep breath. “Do you know where she is?” Rhys asked darkly. Azriel was sure everyone in the house could feel the dark power emanating from the High Lord. “I will soon.” Azriel quickly left before the moment could turn personal. Giving the couple space.

Hours later Azriel reported that the four males had taken you to an abandoned village at the edge of the mountains. It was the dead of winter, you must be freezing. That made Rhys and Feyre even angrier. You were raised in the Summer Court you can’t handle the cold of Illyria.

Rhys didn’t want this done quietly. He wanted to make his presence known. These moronic males took what was the High Lord and Lady’s and they would pay dearly for it.

Winnowing to the center of the abandoned village Rhys, Feyre, Az, Cass, and Mor stood back to back in a circle. Weapons raised, their eyes scanned the dilapidated homes. Wind and snow whipped around the group making in almost impossible to see their surroundings. Azriel sent his shadows out in all directions. Minutes later one returned swirling frantically as it relayed information to its master. He whistled and nodded in the direction the shadow came from.

Rhys and Feyre were the first to move. As they walked ahead the raging snow storm seemed to part for them. Like it was afraid of their wrath.

——

The cabin was freezing. Your body was aching from shivering for hours on end. You try to pull at the ropes around your wrists but your arms were too weak to move. It felt like you were frozen in place.

The four males that had taken you from Velaris were huddled near the front door. Now that they weren’t looking you allowed yourself to wince at the pain rushing through your right cheek. One of the males had backhanded you so hard it left a large bruise and cut from just below your temple to your cheek.

You hadn’t said a single word to them when you came to. You just sat slightly slumped in the rickety chair they tied you to. You kept your face blank, not giving them the satisfaction of a reaction or screaming and pleading with them.

When you had first woken up you tried to reach out to Rhys and Feyre. They were too far so your connection to them was nonexistent. You had prayed to the Mother that your friends and family noticed you missing. Prayed that Mor thought it was weird you didn’t show up to brunch. And Nyx! Poor Nyx must’ve been so sad when you didn’t pick him up from school.

Tears started to blur your vision as you thought about your little boy. Would you ever see him again?

Before the sob building in your throat could leave your lips the sound of the front door splintering filled your ears. You ducked your head, hissing at how stiff your neck felt.

You didn’t have to look at who was beating your captors. You could feel their presence. You’d know them anywhere.

Screwing your eyes shut you waited for the chaos to be over. You heard snow and wood crunch under extra footsteps as the males are hauled away.

A warm hand caresses your unharmed cheek. “Y/n,” a small voice says tentatively. You slowly look up at your loves. The tears you were trying to hold back falling as you give them a tight lipped smile. “You came.” Your voice raspy from not being used. “Of course we did.” Rhys said, kneeling in front of you.

With a snap of his fingers you were free from the ropes. You slipped off the chair into Rhys’s embrace. He held your shivering body tight as Feyre winnowed the three of you back to the River House. Madja was waiting upstairs in the bedroom with an apprentice to check you over.

Once she was done you slept for hours. You were still trembling from the cold which Madja had informed them was normal. You should be fine by morning as long as the fire kept going. Feyre sat with you first while Rhys went to be with Nyx.

Nyx had begged his father to see you. The little boy didn’t understand why they brought you home in tears. He kept trying to sneak away from Rhys so he could see you. “I just want to cuddle with mom!” He had yelled and stomped when he was told no.

Rhys and Feyre had switched before Nyx’s bedtime. When Feyre came downstairs Nyx was sitting on the couch, a devious look on his face with his arms crossed. Feyre copied her son with a small chuckle as she faced him down. “I’m not going to bed until I see mom.”

She sat next to him with a sigh. “You’re not seeing mom tonight, baby.” Nyx let out a little hmph and leaned back. His little wings flaring behind him. By nine he was passed out and moved to his own bed.

——

Blinking your eyes open the bright morning sun caught you off guard. You thought it was nighttime. You slowly sit up against the headboard rolling out your stiff joints. Looking around you see Feyre and Rhys asleep leaning on each other at the end of the bed.

You tug on the duvet hard enough to wake them and they jolt whipping their heads around. You cover your mouth to stifle your laugh. Their eyes snap to you and relief floods their faces. They scramble to sit on either side of you, pulling you into a tight embrace. “Sweetheart we were so worried.” “Are you ok? Do you need anything? Water, food, anything?” They continued their onslaught of questions until you pulled away from them.

“I’m fine. Maybe some breakfast and water. But I feel fine.” Rhys looked at you with an assessing gaze. “You’re sure?” You nod at him with a small smile. “I’ll get you some food.” Rhys gives you a kiss before leaving. You turn to look at Feyre.

She stares at you with watery eyes. Her finger gently traces around your cut. You could see the hurt in her eyes. She felt guilty for not getting to you sooner. You grabbed her hand kissing her fingers softly. “I love you, so much.” She whispered. “I love you too. Thank you, for coming to rescue me.” Feyre leaned her forehead against yours. “I’d burn down the world to find you.” Her warm lips pressed against yours in a soft kiss.

When Rhys came back Nyx was following him, holding back his excitement to see you. Before climbing on the bed he gave his father a look that asked for permission. As soon as Rhys nodded Nyx climbed up on the bed snuggling into your chest.

You felt Rhys caress your mental shields before letting him in. “Feyre meant it. We’d burn the world down if it meant you were safe in our arms.” “I know Rhys. And I love you both for it.” “You know you’re never leaving our sight again, right?” You mentally and physically roll your eyes at him. It was going to be a long time before you left the house without an escort soon.

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marvelfanfn2187a113 · 8 months

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Concerning Habits

Dean and Sam Winchester x little sister!reader, Castiel x teen!reader (platonic obviously)

Requested by Anonymous

Synopsis: you’re too embarrassed to share one of your habits with your brothers.

“Would you stop moving around back there?” Your oldest brother Dean demanded. “You’re shaking the whole car, just go to sleep.”

“What do you think I’m trying to do,” you grumbled, changing positions again as you struggled to grasp onto the sleep that’d been evading you for the past hour.

“Since when are you such an insomniac anyway?” Sam asked absentmindedly from the passengers seat, where he was pouring over one of the Men of Letters books.

“I don’t know,” you lied. You knew exactly why you’d been tossing and turning for the past hour, but you’d rather throw yourself out of the Impala then tell your brothers why.

Truthfully, it was kind of stupid. When you’d packed your bag to come on the hunt with your brothers, you’d forgotten to pack Jasper, the teddy bear you’d had almost since birth. You hated that you couldn’t get to sleep without him, but you’d tried before and it never worked. It was a little comfort in a world where comfort was few and far between.

You were sure that there were two reasons that you needed him to sleep. The first was more of a tangible reason; you’d gotten used to holding something every night for your whole life, so to be without it threw you off. The other reason was more personal; having that bear was like having a reminder of your whole family with you. Your mother had bought it for you, John had sewed an eyepatch on his face when one of his little plastic eyes fell off, and Sam and Dean had sewed up rips and tears in the thing countless times. Without him, you felt…alone. Like the little pieces of your family that you were desperate to remember were gone.

Of course, this was way too much to dump on Sam and Dean, who were just trying to enjoy a peaceful drive. So, you gave up on your useless attempts at sleep, and instead grabbed your headphones and turned on one of your playlists. You made sure to keep your phone under the small blanket over you, not wanting to alert Sam and Dean to your restlessness.

“Wake me when it’s my turn to drive,” Sam told Dean, and you couldn’t help but be jealous at the way he fell asleep almost immediately.

Four hours later, you had exhausted both your body and your playlist, yet still sleep wouldn’t come. There was still over six hours left in the drive, and you were sure that you were going to go insane.

When the Impala pulled over and Dean and Sam switched seats, you noticed Sam staring at you.

“Why are you awake?” He asked. Dean glanced back to look at you.

“I…” you didn’t have a good answer, so you didn’t.

“Did you sleep at all?” Dean asked, and when you ignored this too, he began to look alarmed. “Alright, what’s up? You need to sleep.”

“I’m trying,” your voice came out in a mumble.

“For the past four hours?” Sam didn’t sound convinced. “You’re either trying too hard, or not hard enough.”

“I can’t sleep.”

“Why?” Dean asked. “You looked half dead when we left for this trip, I thought you’d be out in five minutes flat.”

“I just…I left something at the bunker,” you slowly sat up, giving up on even your fake sleep. “And I need it.”

“Why didn’t you say something before?” Dean demanded. “If you need it-“

“I didn’t realize until it was too late,” you sighed. “And-and I don’t need need it.”

“What’d you forget?” Sam asked, confused.

When you didn’t answer, Dean turned in his seat to face you.

“Kid? C’mon, talk to me, is it like medication or something? I might have some sleeping pills with me.”

You shook your head, feeling dumber than ever.

“Not-not pills, just…” you lowered your eyes, resisting the urge to hide under your blanket. “Just something that helps me sleep.”

“How about this,” Sam sighed, trying to stall Dean’s rising frustration. “How about I call Cas, and he can get it for you?”

“I don’t wanna bother Cas,” you said quietly.

“Hey Cas,” you flinched in surprise at Dean’s sudden outburst. “We’re on I94, mile marker…78, and we could use some hel-“ Dean stopped talking when Cas appeared suddenly next to you.

“What’s wrong?”

“Ask her,” Dean gestured at you, and you felt your face heat up, your ears turning pink. It would’ve been embarrassing enough for your brothers to find out about Jasper, but an actual angel?

“Dean-“

“We’re gonna be on this hunt for days, I’m not about to let you just not sleep for days, so tell the angel what you need and get it over with.”

“You want me to help you sleep?” Cas asked, trying to understand why he’d been summoned.

“No, it’s just…I-I left something at home, and I need it to sleep, and since you can like, teleport…” your voice trailed off when you saw realization light up Cas’s face.

“Alright, what is it you want me to get?”

“It’s…” you couldn’t admit it, you just couldn’t. You tried to skirt around the answer. “It’s in my room…”

“You might have to be more specific,” Cas said slowly, his brows drawn together.

“It’s a bear, ok? A stuffed animal bear, and it’s on my bed,” you’d given up completely on both your attempts to keep the truth from them and any inclination to look at anyone in the car. You’d buried your head in the blanket that you held in your hands, and didn’t look up even when you heard the gentle whoosh of Castiel leaving.

“Kid, you ok?” Sam asked softly, to which you merely nodded.

“Here you go.”

At the sound of Cas’s voice, you finally looked up to see him holding Jasper out to you.

“I don’t understand. You seem distressed,” Castiel observed as you pulled Jasper into your arms.

“I’m not distressed, I’m embarrassed,” you huffed. “It’s…it’s just so stupid.”

“I’ve observed that many humans have sentimental attachments to objects, I don’t understand why this is different,” Castiel cocked his head.

“Stuffed animals are for kids,” you mumbled.

“So?” Dean’s voice from the front seat surprised you.

“So? You don’t think it’s stupid?”

“Kid, we all have our…” Dean searched for a word. “Quirks. And considering some of the issues me and Sammy have had,�� his wry smile made you relax slightly, “I think ‘needing a stuffed animal’ is pretty low on our Concerning Habits list.”

“You really don’t think it’s that dumb?” You asked.

“Honestly, it’s below Sam’s haircut on my list of weird things in our family. Far below,” Dean scoffed, and you felt yourself relax completely.

“Ok, enough,” you grinned at the sound of Sam’s grumpy tone. “Shouldn’t you be getting some sleep?”

You finally settled down in your seat, smiling at Cas and thanking him quietly. Once he vanished, you stretched out completely in the back seat, and within minutes you were fast asleep, your bear tucked tightly under your arm.

Because you fell asleep so quickly, you missed the way Dean turned in his chair to smile at you, and the whispered conversation he shared with Sam.

“You know, that kid is adorable.”

Sam laughed softly, glancing back at you before turning back to focus on the road.

“Yeah, I know.”

#dean winchester #dean winchester x reader #dean and sam #dean winchester x you #sam winchester #sam winchester x reader #supernatural dean #the winchesters #winchesters x reader #dean x sister #sam winchester x sister!reader #dean winchester x sister #dean winchester x sister!reader #winchesters x sister #winchester x reader #the winchester brothers #spn sam winchester #castiel

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fantastic-nonsense · 1 month

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I love your thoughtful SoC meta! I would love to know your thoughts on Kaz and Jesper’s relationship. Specifically, I adore Kaz but one thing in particular that always seemed so dark to me was that he enabled Jesper’s gambling addiction even though he obviously does care about him. Kaz is obviously willing to do a lot of fucked up things in service of his goals, but this one in particular, toward his own brother figure, I find sad. It’s kind of addressed during their fight at the end of CK but still feels a little unfinished.

I love Kaz and Jesper's relationship. There's sooooo much to dig into there (way too much for a single meta); it's super juicy and complicated, and one of the best complexities of it is that they often enable and feed off of each other's trauma. The pre-canon status quo is a situation where Kaz and Jesper are, in many ways, using and abusing each other as a way of avoiding dealing with their own trauma. It's a fascinating push-and-pull dynamic because neither of them are pushovers and yet neither one is particularly interested in facing their Issues™ head-on, and they both seemingly recognize that in each other and give each other an uncharacteristic amount of grace in helping the other avoid dealing with it.

In Kaz's case, that most often looks like enabling Jesper's gambling addiction and then repeatedly bailing him out of trouble under the justification of "he's loyal and competent, it would be wasteful to let the other gangs kill him." In Jesper's case, this looks like ignoring Kaz's countless and extremely obvious issues in favor of playing the loyal second. Basically, it's not just Kaz enabling Jesper's gambling addiction; it's also Jesper enabling Kaz's unhinged ruthlessness with little pushback other than a few snarky comments.

They also project a lot of their own issues onto each other! Kaz pushes Jesper away in part because he's projecting the grief and blame he feels over Jordie's death onto Jesper, but Jesper is using Kaz's ruthless pragmatism to escape the crippling disappointment of returning home to face his father's judgement for being a college drop-out, gambling addict, and gang member. And Kaz withholds praise and verbal declarations of trust from Jesper because he hates acknowledging that he cares about people, but Jesper uses Kaz's emotional detachment as a crutch to avoid dealing with his own commitment issues by pining after a boy he knows will never reciprocate his advances. This status quo is, of course, insanely unhealthy for both boys long-term, but where would we be if any of the Crows actually dealt with their issues in a healthy way?

That dynamic, imo, is also only possible because Kaz and Jesper have known each other for longer than anyone else in the main crew; Kaz may have let Inej in further, but he let Jesper in first. As far as we know, Jesper is the first person Kaz genuinely lets past his mile-high walls since Jordie died...but he very deliberately holds him at arms' length in a way that he does not with Inej (something that Jesper notices and is jealous about!). Being "the first" in this case unfortunately comes with a lot of baggage, and Kaz and Jesper would both lowkey rather die than talk about how much they care what the other thinks of them.

Kaz clearly didn't recruit Jesper looking for a friend or someone who reminded him of his dead older brother; he recruited him because he saw someone with a useful skillset who he preferred to be at his side rather than in a rival gang or dead in the canals. It's to Jesper's credit that he managed to break through those walls anyway, but there's only so much he can do in the face of Kaz's armor. And like Inej, Kaz's closed-off personality and actions hurt Jesper repeatedly. But he stays anyway, because he (like Inej) sees the boy underneath the mask that Kaz wears and cares a little too much to let him go:

“He wouldn’t—” Jesper stopped short, and then he laughed. “Of course he would.” Jesper flexed his knuckles, concentrated on the lines of his palms. “Kaz is…I don’t know, he’s like nobody else I’ve ever known. He surprises me.” “Yes. Like a hive of bees in your dresser drawer.” Jesper barked a laugh. “Just like that.” “So what are we doing here?” Jesper turned back to the sea, feeling his cheeks heat. “Hoping for honey, I guess. And praying not to get stung.” Inej bumped her shoulder against his. “Then at least we’re both the same kind of stupid.” “I don’t know what your excuse is, Wraith. I’m the one who can never walk away from a bad hand.” She looped her arm in his. “That makes you a rotten gambler, Jesper. But an excellent friend.” “You’re too good for him, you know.” “I know. So are you." -Ch. 17, Six of Crows

Kaz is unused to verbalizing the trust he places in others and actively in denial about how much he cares about them until Crooked Kingdom; he spends his time deliberately being cruel and pushing people away even as he proves over and over again that he doesn't actually want them to leave him. This casual assholery hits those closest to him (Inej and Jesper) the hardest because they are clearly trusted with his life but not with his heart, and that hurts them both.

For Inej, resolving that behavior looks like giving him an ultimatum ("I will have you without armor or I will not have you at all") and telling herself to walk away unless he meets her challenge. For Jesper? That looks like duking it out on top of the Geldrenner when they're both at rock bottom, because of course that's the only way either one of those boys is ever going to verbalize the tension that underlies their relationship. There's just a lot of baggage and mutual toxicity and unsaid words that neither of them are very interested in dealing with until everything comes to a head during the Clocktower fight.

I think we also forget that the Kaz-Jesper dynamic we see in the majority of the duology is not their normal dynamic: it's how they interact when Kaz is mad at Jesper. And a mad Kaz is, within the scope of canon, a pretty cruel Kaz, which is something that I think a good portion of the fandom likes to handwave away in favor of pointing towards Kaz's active attempts to be better in the back half of the duology.

Ultimately we only see the "normal" Kaz-Jesper dynamic for the first 12 or so chapters of Six of Crows (when the Dock Fight/Eyeball Incident happens) and the last few chapters of Crooked Kingdom. Those chapters are a really interesting look into what that relationship looks like when they're on good terms. It's clear that they're good friends, trust each other a hell of a lot, and joke around with each other quite a bit (the "saves ammo" joke in the parley chapter, their interactions during the Hellgate breakout, the "man with a knife!" "man with a gun!" exchange immediately after Kaz throws Oomen overboard, etc), but we also see the stress points: Jesper getting mad at Kaz for not telling him about Big Bolliger's betrayal, Kaz sending Wylan with Jesper during the prep chapters to keep an eye on him, and Jesper's bee and honey conversation with Inej on the Ferolind, for example.

These stress points are what fracture and crack in the aftermath of Jesper accidentally alerting the other gangs that they were headed out on the Ice Court Job and nearly causing Inej's death, and further buckle under the stress and pressure that Kaz and Jesper deal with during the following month and a half: the Ice Court job, Van Eck kidnapping Inej on Vellgeluk, Colm showing up in Ketterdam, and the Sugar Silo/Auction scheme.

In this way, I think Kaz enabling Jesper's gambling addiction is less about Kaz being actively cruel towards someone he sees the ghost of his brother in and punishing Jesper for the sins he percieves Jordie to have made (which is also true, and a meta for a different time!) and more about the weird balance of toxic mutual leniency Kaz and Jesper have allowed the other to provide for them for over two years...and how that leniency breaks down once it's not just Kaz's life or time on the line when Jesper fucks up.

Put more succinctly: for a long time, Kaz and Jesper existed in a toxic balance of enabling each others' worst impulses and behaviors, which was only able to be verbally addressed when they were both at rock bottom, desperate, and seemingly had very little left to lose. This conflict is somewhat addressed and resolved in the conversation where Kaz refuses to give Jesper the last of the parem and offers up a tiny bit of information about Jordie—showcasing his own growth and how he's finally trying to break the cycle by refusing to enable Jesper's self-destructive tendencies—but that level of tension is unable to be properly resolved in one single blowout argument. And I think it's deliberately left a bit unfinished because neither of them are really in a place where they're ready to address everything they've left unsaid for so long, even in the epilogue chapters.

However, we do see the beginnings of that reconcilitaion (Kaz asking Inej to tell Jesper that he's "missed around the Slat") and the story ends on a hopeful note regarding Kaz's commitment to removing his armor, which implies a lot about the resolution of that dangling thread. And of course, we know that by Rule of Wolves they're back to being thick as thieves and fucking around as usual, so clearly they hashed it out at some point in the in-between (and personally? I don't think it took either of them very long after the CK epilogue chapters to do that hashing out).

tl;dr: I love it when two traumatized and emotionally constipated teenage boys use each other to avoid facing their own personal problems and then get into a fistfight to avoid talking about how much they care about each other. Top-tier dynamic. Chef's kiss. I could talk about them for hours.

#also thank you so much for the ask and kind words #I hope this meta did your question justice and makes up for the fact that I didn't answer it for so long #kaz brekker #jesper fahey #six of crows #crooked kingdom #soc meta #asks #long post #(very long post; rip and sorry for not using a read more but it didn't quite fit anywhere)#queue

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thelovelylolly · 2 months

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Moments On Pabu

Summary: You watch the sunset with Tech Warnings: reader is described as short and smaller than Tech Word Count: 780 Notes: season 3 has broken me and we're only 3 episodes in IM SCARED i have theories and im convincing myself tech is alive (because he is wdym hes dead?) i have so many thoughts its insane (also this may become a lil series idk)

Sunset was the best time on Pabu. Ever since you befriended Phee and she showed you Pabu, you made sure to watch the sunset every night. You made routines and plans around it. With the galaxy at war with itself almost constantly and your life being turbulent before coming to Pabu, the sunset gave you peace and a sense of stability. Things may change around you, but you will always have the sunset.

Phee introduced you to the Bad Batch when they first arrived on the island, and you instantly clicked with Tech. It was a silent connection, but when he smiled back at you, you knew you were going to like him.

He was more reserved compared to his brothers and sister, but he quickly opened up as time went on. You loved listening to him ramble about anything that piqued his interest. You two tended to gravitate to each other, naturally sitting next to each other at gatherings or finding each other around the island and walking together.

That led to you asking Tech if he'd like to join you to watch the sunset.

"Where would we watch it?" He asked in reply to your question. "The beaches and docks tend to be a bit crowded during that time, and I don't particularly enjoy those kinds of situations."

"Don't worry about it, I know a spot where it'll be just us," you quickly replied. "I don't mind if you don't want to go, I don't want to make you uncomfortable."

He thought for a moment, then gave you a small smile. "I suggest we leave now so we don't miss it."

You smiled and took his hand in yours, leading him down the winding paths of the island. You had found the alcove one day when wondering the island, and no one else knew of it. Or at least, they didn't go there.

Tech's eyes widened a bit when you two arrived at the empty beach. The blue waves gently lapped at the shore, filling the alcove with the soft sound of waves crashing. The setting sun made the horizon a beautiful, bright orange while the rest of the sky was still a light blue. You led him closer to the water, showing the setting sun to your left.

"This is a beautiful beach," Tech commented before looking at you, "no one else has found it yet?"

You shook your head with a smile. "Not yet. I usually come here by myself when things get too much or to just watch the sunset. I don't bring anyone here. Well, except for you now."

You noticed how his cheeks turned pink before he looked away.

"I feel honored that I am the first person you brought down here," eh said softly.

Now you felt your cheeks heat up, a contrast to the cool sea breeze. You ignored it, instead taking your shoes off and placing them in the sand. You walked closer to the water, stopping when it just covered your feet. You turned and looked back at Tech, who was watching you.

"C'mon, it's just a little bit cold," you called with a smile.

He returned it and quickly followed your lead. He took his shoes off and joined you in the shallow water. The sun dipped lower and lower as the minutes ticked past. You two watched it from your spots in the water, letting the waves splash against your feet and onto your lower legs.

You took a deep breath, closing your eyes and tilting your head back. The peace of sunset by the ocean always made you happy, and Tech made it so much better.

When you opened your eyes and looked back down, you caught Tech looking at you. You smiled, squinting a bit when the sun got in your eye.

"What is it?" You asked.

"I-it's nothing," he answered, "you just look very...peaceful. And happy."

"I am, but I think I'm really happy because you're here with me," you replied. You reached for his hand and gently took it in yours. "You wanna take a walk down the shore?"

He smiled, ignoring the way his cheeks continued to heat up. He intertwined his fingers with yours. "I would like that very much."

You led him down the shoreline, keeping your feet in the water. You two walked hand-in-hand as the sun continued to set. You glanced over at him and saw him bathed in the golden light from the setting sun. You felt butterflies in your stomach as you looked away, continuing down the shore.

You liked the quiet moments on Pabu, but you liked them more with Tech by your side.

#im very normal about season 3 wdym #tech x reader #tech the bad batch #tech x you #the bad batch tech #the bad batch x reader #the bad batch fanfiction #the bad batch fanfic #tbb tech #tech tbb #star wars x reader #star wars fanfiction

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vide0-nasties · 10 months

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Going to be rambling insanely about Ghost and probably what his feelings on the monarchy would be, coming from one deeply damaged povo to another.

Anyway, specifically around the time the parasite in chief in her idiot hat (thanks Eccleston lub u) died and passed said idiot hat on, I was seeing a lot of (fun and gentle-ribbing, mind you!) posts about Ghost getting razzed about the queen croaking and maybe him being sad about it or something - I don’t really remember bc I have shit for brains and I just latch onto what bits my adhd will allow.

SO. I really don’t think Bruv Innit gave two shits about Liz buying the farm, bc he grew up working class in a working class town to a drug addicted, drug peddling dad, and a fairly nondescript mom who likely didn’t have a way to get her and her kids out of that shit situation (per ‘09 MW lore and some presumption). I imagine dude was dragged around a shitload of council estates and his dad’s friends’ shitty crash pads, no stability whatsoever, where food insecurity was a big ass forever-looming deal, mom had no idea if her 20 year old vauxhall was going to make it another trip to her minimum wage part time job, and school was forever on the back burner bc when it came to school supplies/trips vs eating and keeping the lights on. You can guess which one won.

If we’re also going with him being about 35-40ish, he would’ve been 10-12ish or so around Diana’s divorce and then her death. So, here’s this starving, horrendously abused kid, with his starving, horrendously abused mother and little brother, drowning in a system that is pretty much just letting them sink to the bottom, nothing is being done about the evil sperm donor that ruins everything for them, and he’s obliterated constantly by TV coverage and tabloids and radio DJs talking about this goddamned family’s stupid fucking drama. Charles cheated, Diana left, her poor boys in their fancy private schools with their endless wealth and glowing skin and brand new clothes that don’t stink of consignment shops are sad.

Sorrows - sorrows, prayers. 🫶

It’s a story he’s seen countless times, the only difference is money and coverage. And, realistically, the women in the stories he knows aren’t killed in car wrecks, they’re killed by their infuriated husbands who think they’re owed something catching up. Maybe that’s why his mom doesn’t leave the cocksucker that trapped her, she could’ve ended up another council house Diana that no one gave a shit about.

He grows up, becomes a butcher’s apprentice, joins the army. Straightens his brother out, makes sure his mom is set up nice, finally beats the shit out of his dad. And all the while, there looms the most fucking pointless, parasitic family in England: living off taxes taken from the public, god knows how much land and how many castles, even owning all the fucking swans on the island.

Relics, vampires, leeches.

But, you know, twenty years down the road, he’s pushing 40, his services to the country are done in the dark, the family he tried so badly to save were brutally cut down anyway, and when he goes to Tesco, the price of a fifth of piss Smirnoff is insane, and he’s still got Soap swimming in his head mid-rant bc his mam’s fucking knee replacement appeal has been denied for the third time and she can’t even walk anymore, Gaz is moving for the second time in a year bc he just can’t afford to live close to his parents even on his salary, meanwhile there was a stretch where it looked like Philip was surviving solely by being pumped full of virgin blood and straight stem cells.

So, yeah, if anything he probably said cheers when the news broke and cracked a couple extra jokes that day.

“What d’you call one dead Windsor? A good start.”

Edit: This is picking up some traction. @50cal-fullauto-astarion is my CoD blog if you like my Call of Bullshit stuff, this is my main and I don’t really go into CoD here

#simon ghost riley #modern warfare ii #ghost cod #call of duty #mw2 #ghost #I’m mentally ill and I love that he is also mentally ill and probably looks at the monarchy with disgust #if he can vote depending on whether he’s legally dead or not he voted no on brexit #some rando at base is like ‘how can you make a joke like that think about the children they lost their nan’#and he just goes ‘I’ll hunt those little shits for sport’

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taytrashmouth · 8 months

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Just finished rewatching game of thrones and the Jon snow obsession has been reborn.

This is a long one!

TW: rape, abuse, crying, murder, etc, all normal GOT stuff.

Jon snow x reader.

:readmore:

Looking at the empty walls of the stone cell I’ve been trapped in for weeks I can’t help but feel that these walls of winterfell that I’ve known for so long are no longer the walls I call home. This is a prison.

I pushed myself back against the furthest wall as I heard the keys rattle in the door. The chain around my waist felt heavier than normal.

As the door opened I felt a tear escape my eye…Ramsey

“You’re not excited to see me?” He pouted and wiped my cheek.

I tried to hide my fear and pain and sadness but I knew he could see through my act.

“I’m going to meet with lady Bolton tomorrow.” He sat down in front of me.

I thought about Sansa….I thought about when we were little, how we would sneak into the kitchens after everyone was asleep, how we’d laugh and talk, how we would dance in the snow outside and go for long walks in the snowy hills. She was bigger now, more mature. The last time I saw her was at the wedding…she got locked in Ramseys room and I got locked in a cell. I heard people talk of her escape through the small widow towards the top of my cell, I’d never been that relieved in my life.

Sansa never treated me as her handmaiden, only ever as her friend.

“Her bastard brother will be there too…” Ramsey spoke.

I couldn’t help my reaction, I let out a gasp and tears fell from my eyes.

Jon was alive.

“I want you to come with me to meet with them tomorrow…”

I looked up at him and frowned, there was a catch, Ramsey was insane, he liked to play games.

“You see… I know that Jon cares for you…and lovers should always be reunited at the end of every story.” Ramsey smiled as he touched my cheek, I tried to move away but he held me still.

“But I’m afraid this story doesn’t have a happy ending…” he pouted. “Jon will have to see what I’ve done with you.” Now he smiled.

He began to untie my dress, I tried to move away but he held me down and the chains were too heavy. After not being fed for a week I could barely have the strength to push him off.

He grabbed my hands and held them high above my head as he sucked hickeys into my neck, and put bite marks all over my skin.

Eventually I stopped screaming, I just accepted him inside of me, I cried and looked away, knowing there was nothing I could do. I thought of everything that wasn’t Ramsey. Then eventually I didn’t think of anything at all, I didn’t even feel as though I was in the room anymore. I was somewhere deep inside my own mind, somewhere I couldn’t even place.

I felt Ramsey hit me and become rough but I just lay there in the cold cell…hopeless.

When he was done he had his guards unlock the chains around my waist and wrists, and lead me to a room in the castle….Aryas old room.

They locked me in there for the rest of the night I had a bath and scrubbed my skin till it was raw and red trying to get Ramsey off of me…

I put on the dress that was laid out on the bed, it showed off my shoulders and my sides, exposing the bruises and scrapes all over my body. I brushed my hair that had grown a lot since I last saw myself. I tied it back into a braid exposing my face and neck like Ramsay instructed

I looked at my thin figure, I could see my own ribs. I looked awful. I drank the soup that was left on top of the dresser.

And I waited…to see Jon again, to see Sansa.

I walked out of the dining hall to see Jon hitting a training dummy repeatedly with his sword.

“I think it’s dead.” I smiled as he turned around.

He smiled softly, something he didn’t do often. “What am I missing?” He asked gesturing back into the hall

“Ned’s angry because Arya flicked food at Sansa.” I spoke. He laughed under his breath. “So nothing new?” He smirked.

I shook my head.

It was quiet for a moment, the music from inside distant. The air was cold.

I had liked Jon since I was about 10, he often caught Sansa and I in the kitchens late at night and instead of telling Ned, like Robb sometimes did, he would join us.

But I’d never say anything, I couldn’t…technically he was a stark, and technically I was a prisoner, a Greyjoy. Although the starks had never made me feel like a prisoner.

“Why so frustrated?” I asked him.

He looked down at his sword and the blisters he’d caused on his hand.

“A lot on my mind, my lady.” He replied.

“I am no lady….just a handmaiden, My lord.” I spoke back, knowing he only ever wanted me to call him Jon.

He smiled to himself. “Just Jon.”

“Okay….just Jon, may I have this dance.” I asked as the band began to play another song that could be heard vaguely through the closed doors to the dining hall.

“Anything for you, princess.” He spoke slowly and made his way over to you. Putting his sword against the stone walls of winterfell.

“I am no-“ you were interrupted when his finger pressed to your lips. “You are to me.” He whispered.

He valued me, always. He never treated me like less, in fact he always treated me like more, like royalty, like a princess.

I smiled up at him. He placed his hands on my waist and i put mine on his shoulders.

“I must warn you, just Jon I’m not a good dancer.” I spoke.

“I know, I’ve watched you dance with sir Cedric Mormont a few years back, and sir Jamie earlier tonight.”

I playfully smacked his arm and he smiled.

“I’ll tell you what princess y/n Greyjoy…I’m not that good either.” He smiled.

We swayed and laughed when Jon jokingly spun me around, or when I tried to lead. We ran around the castle walls for about 3 hours before lady Katlin caught us.

We both froze when she saw us.

“Sansa was looking for you y/n.” She spoke firmly. Glaring at Jon.

“My lady- I-“ you stumbled.

“It was me! I wanted to try on Robb’s armor, see what it was like, to be a knight. I had lady Greyjoy assist me putting it on-“ Jon interrupted. He never lied, but he was protecting me.

I glanced worriedly at him.

“Typical.” She whispered under her breath, and shook her head. My blood boiled. “Y/n get to Sansa’s chambers immediately, Jon… out of my sight.” She spoke loudly.

I quickly walked off to Sansa’s bed chamber, thinking about Jon the whole way there.

“Where we’re you?” Sansa spoke.

“I’m sorry, I-I was with Jon.” I blushed.

She squealed. “Tell me everything.” She spoke, handing me her hairbrush as she sat down at the dresser.

It was like having a permanent best friend, I was only two years older than Sansa.

I carefully undid the intricate braids in her hair and brushed her copper locks.

“We danced…sort of.” I smiled.

“Was he any good?” She frowned.

“No.” We both laughed.

We giggled and spoke until she had to go to bed. Laughing about Jon and how she was to marry prince Joffrey.

You walked along the empty passages towards the servants quarters. Through the snow covered courtyard.

I was pulled from the happy memory when the lock to the chamber rattled and Ramsey and two of his guards entered.

I dropped the soup onto the floor, my hands must have been shaking.

“Oh clumsy are we? You’ll need a new dress I suppose.” Ramsey pouted.

Tears filled my eyes.

“Luckily I have the perfect one for you.” He smirked and held out some purple material…open back.

He wanted Jon to see my pain, to see that I belonged to him. I shook my head and tears fell from my eyes.

His guards grabbed my wrists and shoved me onto the bed, i sobbed when they began to tie my hands to the headboard. They ripped away the gown I was wearing and I could no longer see Ramsey, and that scared me more than anything.

“This will hurt darling.” I could hear the smile in his voice. And I screamed and sobbed as a hard whip hit my back, digging into my spine, I felt blood pour down my back.

It hurt again and again, 20 times he hit me, 20 times I screamed and 20 times I did not prey for help, I wished for death.

He left me tied there, facing the wall, bleeding.

I cried for a long time until I fell asleep from exhaustion. Naked and beaten.

The morning was a rush, Bran had fallen from the tallest tower and hadn’t woken up. Lady Katlin was devastated and Ned had informed Sansa and I we were leaving for kings landing tomorrow. He had been offered the position of hand of the king.

He also informed me that Jon was to become a man of the nights watch.

I walked as fast as I could to his room, my dress blowing behind me in the wind. I tried desperately not to cry.

I shoved his door open and there he was packing his things.

As he turned to me I slapped him, hard.

“Were you not going to tell me!” I yelled, the tears began to fall.

He swallowed hard and looked down, and then at me…my face.

“I didn’t know how-“

“Lies!” I screamed, tears falling like snowflakes.

“I love you! And I didn’t know how to say goodbye to the one thing! The one good thing in my life! The only thing that matters!” He yelled too now.

You cried harder.

“You are the only thing keeping me from going! But I can’t love you, n/n….I can’t! I’m a bastard, and I refuse to force you to burden that name too. You are going to king’s landing tomorrow, you’ll meet a Duke of something there and you’ll grow old in a castle, and have beautiful daughters and strong sons.” Jon was crying too, he held my shoulders.

“No-“ I shook my head. “I don’t want that…. I love you Jon snow. I will never love anyone else. I want to run away with you, I want to carry your children, I want to grow old with you!” I sobbed.

He shook his head, and pressed his forehead to mine.

“I don’t care if you’re a bastard- it’s a stupid title. Like king or queen it’s just a name. But you’re so much more than that you’re brave and kind, loving, you’re funny and smart and-“ he kissed me, gently but passionately.

For a moment everything made sense. All the stars aligned and the puzzle fit together beautifully.

But then I pulled away.

“I love you.” We stated at the same time, we both laughed lightly.

There was a heavy silence after that. I knew I had to go to kings landing, and he knew he had to go to the wall, to make something of himself.

“Promise me.” I spoke slowly as he held my cheeks. “Promise me when I see you again you’ll kiss me, like you just did, promise me that someday we’ll grow old together. Promise me-“ I choked and he kissed my forehead. “Promise that I’ll see you again.”

He nodded. “I promise.” He knelt to the floor and kissed my hand, “ I promise I’ll come back for my princess.” He spoke.

I smiled through the tears as he stood.

“Promise you’ll write to me…every day.” He whispered as we hugged. I nodded.

“Promise you’ll write back.” He chuckled and nodded against my head.

That was goodbye.

I rode with Ramsey on his horse, my back aching and my lips blue. I was freezing in the revealing dress. Bruises, gashes, hickeys, scars and deep wounds covered my body.

We stopped after a long ride. I saw horses approaching in the distance. My heart sunk, I didn’t want Jon to see me like this. What if he had moved on.

I must have looked terrible because Sansa took in a sharp breath before demanding my release. There he was, Jon…my Jon.

I almost smiled when I saw him, almost.

He looked older, a fuller beard and darker eyes, he was taller. He was handsome.

He looked devastated when he saw me. I looked down at the floor, not seeing the tears fill his eyes.

They debated the war that was to come, tomorrow. And Rickons release.

I began to shiver.

“Give her a coat she’ll freeze!” Jon yelled. His voice was husky and sad. I looked at the anger on his face.

Ramsey smiled.

“Jon don’t-“ I tried to explain it was just one of his games but Ramsey hit me, across the cheek.

Jon’s horse jerked forward as he drew his sword but his men held him back.

And then we rode away, at the perfect angle for Jon to see my back.

Ramsey threw me back into my cell, I cried…I didn’t want Jon to fight- I feared Ramsey would win.

I felt my heart sink…I had imagined seeing him again for so many years and it broke me to know that might’ve been the last time.

Last I saw him he was 16, only a boy. I was 15, a young girl who knew nothing of the world outside winterfell.

I knew not of vicious fighters like sir clegane or horrible woman like Cersei. I wouldn’t have imagined such an unfair ruler as Joffrey. Or such an abusive leader as Ramsey.

I wouldn’t have ever imagined seeing Theon like that….like reek. Ramsey told me he’d to the same to me if I disobeyed him. Another Greyjoy to his collection.

I hadn’t looked death in the eye the last time i saw Jon and yet now I had seen so much of it, it all seemed insignificant.

I heard of Jon’s battles, I even heard of his death. Seeing him again was like seeing a ghost. I wasn’t the same girl he left at winterfell but I had the same heart.

“You’re going to take someone’s eye out.” I smiled across the courtyard as I saw Jon and Robb attempting to sword fight in the snow, they kept slipping on the ice.

“That’s the point my lady.” Robb smiled.

“It’s not that simple.” Jon huffed.

“Can I have a go.” I asked gesturing to their swords.

They both chuckled until they realized I was serious.

“The arena is no place for a lady.” Robb spoke, he looked a bit sympathetic though.

I frowned.

Jon was about to speak until Theon called them to lunch.

That evening when I was lying on my bed I felt something shake me awake.

“Jon?” I frowned in the dark. He nodded.

“Come on.” He pulled me out of bed.

“Where are we going?” I asked but he shhhhed me.

“You’ll see, it’s a surprise.” He whispered.

He dragged me out to the courtyard, where he lit a bunch of candles.

I smiled.

“Jon it’s beautiful.”

“Like you.” He responded, both our cheeks flushed.

“You sure you’re ready?” He asked me, changing the subject.

“For?”

“You’re greatest opponent.” He smiled and threw me a sword which landed on the floor in front of me. I smiled.

“Thank you.” I looked at him. He nodded.

He spent the rest of the night trying to teach me how to fight, and by 4AM I could have a basic spar with him.

He quickly blew out all the candles and lead me back to my chambers.

“Was I any good?” I asked.

He nodded as we walked.

“Are you just saying that?” I asked again.

He smiled. “You were better than Theon let’s put it that way.”

I smiled.

Ramsey chained me up and dragged me outside of winterfell with Rickon. We both got a bad hit when I hugged him, I was so relieved he was alright.

I watched as Ramsey explained the rules of his stupid little trick, how rickon had to run across the field to Jon. It was too easy. There was a catch.

I watched as he began to run and I watched Ramseys men began to load their crossbows.

I began to scream. “Nooo! Stop!” I screamed and they hit me, but I didn’t stop, I had to warn him.

Jon began to ride towards his brother… holding out his hand. But there it was, another stark gone.

My own scream was silent in my ears, I couldn’t hear anything as I watched him fall to the floor.

I sobbed. I watched Jon loose his horse and begin to take on an entire army by himself. I screamed again.

I felt Ramsey pull at my chains and drag me back to winterfell. Leaving the battle of the bastards. His war that he wasn’t even fighting.

Leaving the carnage. He took me to the courtyard. He put me on the execution platform and tied a rope around my neck. He explained how if Jon came to save me, the floor would disappear and so would I.

I waited, I saw the bodies pile up through the windows in the castle walls. I watched the giant break down winterfells gates. I smiled and cried when I saw him….just Jon.

“You’re too late.” Ramsey smiled and pointed at me. Jon’s face dropped he was covered in blood.

“No!” I yelled as I watched one of Ramseys men move to pull the lever.

Jon began to run towards me, as a red haired man threw an axe at the soldier. It killed him as he pulled the switch. I closed my eyes and took in a sharp breath.

I opened my eyes, Jon had caught me. I smiled as a tear ran down my cheek. He looked at me, examining my face.

His red hair friend cut the rope and jon put me down.

Ramsey began to load his crossbow.

“Jon.” I said and pointed at Ramsey.

His hands left my hips, and I almost missed his touch.

He used some debris as a shield as Ramsey fired arrows at him, he grew closer and closer to him.

I watched as Jon beat him up. A part of me liked that Ramsey would die here, today. A part of me knew it was wrong.

“Stop!” I let out. Jon looked at me and then at Sansa, still punching. And he did, he stopped.

He walked off into winterfell.

I ran across the courtyard to Sansa and we held each other. Tight.

“Are you okay?” I asked her. She laughed.

“Are you?” She scoffed.

We quickly decided Ramsey should be reunited with his pets. He didn’t deserve to live. Not even as a prisoner.

Later that evening I found myself in Aryas old bed chambers attempting to stitch up some of my cuts. I heard a knock at the door and looked up.

Jon.

“Hello.” I spoke.

“Hi.”

I slowly stood up.

It wasn’t long before his lips were on mine. We kissed for a long time, passionately. A kiss that made up for all our time lost.

We pulled away breathless, both crying.

“You stopped writing letters.” I spoke, he smiled.

“You stopped writing back.” He answered.

He hugged me, gently. I hugged him back as tightly as I could.

“You’re taller.” I smiled.

“You’re shorter.”

We both laughed.

He sat me on the bed and helped me stitch up my wounds. He held my hand tightly as he poured alcohol on my back.

We spent hours catching up.

We both sat on the end of the bed, my head on his shoulder.

“I thought you were dead.” I told him. “Twice.”

He chuckled. “You gave me a few scares too.”

“How was the wall?”

“Cold.” He looked down at me. I laughed.

“Is it true? The whitewalkers?” I asked more seriously now.

He sighed. “Unfortunately.”

“I’ve fought them, they’re too strong. I fear we won’t win this battle. But I’ll make sure you’re as far south as south goes-“

“No!” I interrupted, shaking my head.

Tears brimmed in his waterline.

“I’m not leaving again….I just got you back. We’re going to grow old together, remember?” My voice broke. “Even if you’ve found someone else-“

“There’s no one else.” He brushed his hand over my cheek.

“If you fight, I’ll fight.” I spoke.

“You did have a really good teacher.” He stated. I playfully nudged him as he smiled.

“I love you…just Jon, I always have.” I finished.

“I love you too, princess y/n Greyjoy.” He kissed me again gently.

“Snow.” I corrected and he frowned. “Queen y/n snow.”

A smile took over his whole face.

“If you’ll have me, that is? King Jon snow.”

#jon snow #jon snow x you #jon snow imagine #jon snow fanfiction #jon snow x reader #game of thrones fanfiction #game of thrones #ramsey bolton #sansa stark #winterfell

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gojos-thot-patrol · 8 months

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Some more supplementary material for the Frat Boy! Au, this time starring blorbo of the hour: Kento Nanami

Because he’s been heavy on my mind. Starting with his basic info!

Nanami grew up very middle class, not as poor as Suguru or Ryomen, but nowhere near as well off as Satoru.

He’s a business major not because he wants to, but because he feels he has too. If he had it his way, he would be a culinary student. But according to his father, there's no money in being a line cook, so accounting it is.

Still, he hopes to use his degree to open his own restaurant one day. His father would never approve of a line cook for a son, but maybe Nanami could sell him on a business owner for a son.

He says the main reason he joined the ABO frat was to try and make business connections, he knew that some people would hire one applicant over another just because they were alumni of the same fraternity. In reality though, he’d have more room in the frat and unlimited access to the kitchen.

His room is full of plants. Plants of all kinds everywhere, including some herbs. It used to kinda annoy Ryomen (his roommate) but, he’s grown to actually kinda appreciate it. It makes the room feel less dead.

Phenomenal cook who can not bake to save his life. Cooking is an art but baking is a science and somewhere along the way he fucks it up every time. Be it mixing the batter too much or too little, not letting it sit long enough or letting it sit too long- he doesn't know. He can handle box cake mix that’s about it.

Now if you want a steak cooked to perfection with perfectly roasted veggies and the creamiest mashed potatoes you've ever put in your mouth on the side he’s you’re guy. If you want an authentic lasagna with homemade everything including the noodles and sauce, he can do that for you. Do not ask him to make bread.

He’s also insanely good at fighting games. Every version of Nanami in my heart is a God when it comes to fighting games, there is not a universe in which Nanami exists where he doesn’t dominate at Tekken, argue with the wall if you don’t agree.

Adding to that, he’s also in love with D&D. He’s a forever DM that spends hours of time planning campaigns, hours he should be spending on his school work but shhhh. If you really want to make him swoon, offer to let him be a player in a campaign. He’d pull out a ring on the spot.

That being said, I think it’s time to get into some relationship headcanons ;)

HE’S A TSUNDERE! Look at that man, he has such big Tsundere energy.

Out of all his frat brothers, Nanami is probably the one that gets laid the least. Not from a lack of opportunity, nay nay, women (and men) throw themselves at him all the time. He’s just picky and not a fan of being touched by stragers.

You though? You’re different (of course you are, you’re the main character!) The two of you really started to click after you had to work on a pretty big project together. Little things you did softened his heart for you.

Small things like asking him more about his D&D campaign plans, excitedly showing him pictures of the plants that you kept in your dorm, and offering to help him out in the kitchen. Little moments of quality time and tenderness while you were working on this project together nurtured his small crush into full blown butterflies when you were around.

He finally admitted to himself he was in love with you when you beat him in Street Fighter. He wasn’t used to losing at fighting games. You bragged about using his tips against him (you listened to what he said) and laughed about the weeks you spent training to destroy him (otherwise known as taking a genuine interest in his hobbies.)

He asked you out on a date that night and you were taken completely off guard! You had no idea the fool even liked you! He was cold on the best of days, spending more time scowling at his notebooks than listening to what you said (or so you thought.) He never contacted you unless it was in regards to your project, and most of the time you spent hanging out outside of it was just because you had become friends with his frat brothers and happened to be at the house. You mean he liked you?!

Of course you said yes, if for no other reason than to see where the hell this goes. You were 40% sure it was a prank, but hey- a free meal was a free meal. It helped he was hot as hell, what was the harm in one date?

You saw a whole new side of Kento Nanami that night. He was warm and attentive, and fucking hilarious when he wasn’t just keeping all of his jokes to himself.

It was a simple date. A moonlit picnic in the nearby park, one where he brought his laptop and used his phone hotspot so the two of you could watch movies together.

That was the night when you found out Kento Nanami considered himself to be a hopeless romantic.

When he took you back to your dorm, he walked you to the door and actually asked if he could kiss you goodnight.

And now you’re both smitten!

Once you’re officially his girlfriend, You’re gonna find out he’s genuinely pretty chill. Happy to give you your space and recognize you’re a person outside of your relationship. That being said, let some asshole start getting a little too comfortable with you at a part and he’s quick to throw hands.

You would think nerdy little Nanami wasn’t that good in a fight, but nay nay, he was forced to play football in highschool and will leave a bastard concussed.

He says he’s not a cuddler, but every time you sleep in his bed you wake up with him cuddled close to you.

Nanami loves kisses, and is always planting them on you when you’re in kissing range. Your lips, cheeks, forehead, everything is fair game.

You’re the only person in the world other than like, his parents that can call him Kento. He’s always gone by his last name, to the point that his first name makes him feel like he’s in trouble. Only authority figures use it when they’re pissed off at him. But it hits him different when it comes from your lips. When you say it, it feels tender and intimate. It’s the closest he gets to liking his name.

He always tries to make time for you and your relationship. Even if that sometimes means that your date nights are just study dates, he always strives to make you feel like a priority.

He’s a soft guy that falls in love easily. You may not know it yet, but he has full intentions to marry you after graduation. A fact his frat brothers are quick to tease him about, while also making him promise to make them groomsmen.

#jjk #jujutsu kaisen #nanami kento #nanami x reader #jjk frat boy au #frat boy! nanami #frat boy nanami #nanami headcanons #kento nanami #nanami fluff #nanami x reader fluff

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distortionbobble · 9 months

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pairing: michael 'mikey' berzatto x f!reader

warnings: angst with no happy ending, talks about substance abuse, no mention of mikey's s*icide

a/n: i don't know why i got the idea for this but then i started writing it and then more came and i couldn't stop and then it got a little too personal for me! so here we are. listened to dial drunk by noah kahan while writing this

wc 5K

You can’t cook for shit. And maybe that says something about you, says something about the way you were raised because your mother was a fuckin’ culinary genius but you didn’t seem to get much of that. You didn’t get much from your mother, including her time. But it didn’t matter much when you were younger, because your babysitter’s house was right next to the Berzatto’s. Natalie Berzatto happened to be just your age and she’d taken you in pretty damn quickly. After that, you were one of the Bears, no question about it. You looked after Carmy like he was your own brother, laughed at Richie’s jokes and called him Cousin like he was one. But Mikey…

Well, Mikey was another story.

And then you’d gotten swept off of your feet by your boyfriend, the one who promised that the two of you would be stars together in L.A. Chicago had been left behind, with Mikey and Richie and Sugar and Carmy in it. L.A. had been nice, at first— you were a waitress and he was looking for jobs. Then he stopped looking for jobs, and you were still a waitress. By the time you realized that you had walked into a dead end it had been five years, and you didn’t have anything to show for it. So you packed it up, headed back to Chicago and Natalie and Carmen and Richie and Michael. Back to your safe place. The Berzattos.

You stand before their house now with a tote bag full of farmers market veggies, something that you started doing when you were back in California. Your heart is in your throat— you’re nervous, you realize— but you knock and the door swings open almost instantly. Sugar stands before you, her typical sweetness held back by a reservation that you earned by calling her less and less as the years went by. You swallow, about to say something, but she pulls you in for a hug, and her arms feel like you never left.

“Hey, Spice,” she murmurs into your hair, squeezing you tight. Sugar and Spice, always together. That’s what the two of you were.

“Hey, Sug.”

“You didn’t call,” she whispers, still holding on to you tightly. She’s right, you know it, and there’s so much to tell her because of it. You just hold her tighter.

“I know. I’m sorry.” She pulls away from you, eyeing you up and down before she smiles brightly and pulls you into the kitchen.

“Carmy, Mikey, Richie, look alive! Guess who’s here!” She shouts, and the three all stop their chaotic kitchen shenanigans to look at you.

“Spice? No fuckin’ way. Finally left that jagoff for good, huh?” Richie jokes, pulling you in for a hug.

“Sure did, Cousin,” you grin, clapping his back. Richie may be a special breed of insane but you can’t deny the love you have for him.

“Good to see ya, Spice,” Carmy smiles, pulling you in for a side hug. Your awkward pseudo-little brother, the one who you helped with English in high school and always wanted to be around you and Sugar when you went out.

“You too, Carm.”

And then there was one.

Michael Berzatto stands in the middle of the kitchen, and he feels the way he always does, like he’s filled every part of the room and you’re connected to him even before you’re touching him.

“You look good, Spice,” he says. Your arms wrap around his middle and you hold him tight— he smells like oregano and parsley and spices, and you press your head into his chest as you let yourself be engulfed by him. It feels right, this.

“Thanks, Mikey Bear,” you say, lifting your head but still in his embrace. He smiles softly, brushing your cheekbone with the back of his knuckles and then releases you.

“So, like I was saying before Spice so rudely interrupted me, huh?” He grins, biting his tongue cheekily when you scoff in mock amusement. “Richie and I, we’re at the bar and this asshole, he’s all ‘Quit staring at my girl,’ but the chick had just spilled peanuts, like, all over the floor of the fuckin’ bar. Shit’s a mess, like bro, we’re just wondering if you’re gonna clean it up. Yeah, he did not like that. Not a little bit. So he gets all,” Mikey puffs up his chest and squares back his shoulders, staring down at you as he pretends to get up in your space. “And Richie and I, we’re like—“

“Dude, what the fuck?” Richie chimes in, laughing. “Wasn’t so funny three seconds later when he’s got a big ol’ kabar knife out and he’s slashing at Mikey’s bicep.”

“Yep, still got the scar,” Michael laughs, rolling up the sleeve of his t-shirt to show the silvery puckered skin on his upper arm.

“Chrissake, Mikey,” you laugh, reaching out to trace it with your fingers.

“Hey, Spice, you mind helping me prep the veggies?” Sugar asks from behind you.

“You sure you wanna have her doing that?” Carmy asks with a shy grin. “She might add her fingers or somethin’ to it, the klutz.”

“Still shit at cooking, huh, Spice?” Michael laughs at you. You narrow your eyes playfully.

“I’ll have you know, Michael Berzatto, that I can in fact make a mean grilled cheese. Just so you know.” Michael smiles as you begin to slice the vegetables at a painstakingly slow pace.

“Alright Spice, then you gotta make me a nice grilly cheese, ‘kay?” Michael grins.

Sugar whispers something to Michael, making him clear his throat awkwardly. You have no doubt it’s a reminder to him to be gentle; that you’re fragile, damaged goods right now. She’s right. It’s a reminder of the time you wasted with that man, but it doesn’t matter now.

You keep cutting the veggies.

~~~

It’s around nine by the time that dinner’s all done and the dishes all cleaned. Your laughter hasn’t run out but you’re tired, and you need the time alone to go and feel sorry for yourself. You deserve that, you think, because you went and pushed Sugar away when she had your back like nobody else. Still does. Loyalty like that doesn’t come easy.

She had her hand on the side of your chair the whole dinner, like you were gonna bolt at any second and it was the only way she could keep you by her side. You wanna tell her that it’s for good now; that you’ll be by her side forever now. It’s just that it got hard to call when she’d ask you about your life and it felt fucking pathetic to tell her you moved all the way out here for an asshole who didn’t do his own dishes. So when telling her the truth got too hard you stopped telling her anything. And that’s on you. But you’re back now, and that’s the best you can offer.

You’re walking to the trunk of your car, tote bag now stacked with little Pyrex dishes with leftovers of Mikey and Carmy’s creations, when Mikey calls your name from the doorway. He jogs out to you when you look up, surprised.

“Hey, lemme help you put your shit back,” Mikey offers, but you know Mikey enough to know that’s just a poor excuse. He lingers by the trunk as you shut it, taking a quick breath before he gathers his courage. You’ve never seen Michael nervous like that. “So, um, Spice. You’re—you suck at cooking.”

“Thanks so much, Michael. Is that what you came out here to say?” You laugh, shoving his shoulder away as you walk to your door.

“No, no, I was wondering if you’d like to learn to cook. From me, I mean. Just the basics, y’know, but— we could do it, yeah?” And you wonder why Mikey even bothered asking because he’s Michael fuckin Berzatto and you could never say no to him. You nod excitedly, maybe a little too excitedly, but you missed him and you missed his energy and you want to be around him so of course you’d say yes. Without a heartbeat of doubt.

“Yeah, Mikey. I’d fuckin’ love that.” It’s hot in Chicago tonight, and the pavement is radiating heat or maybe it’s Michael, because you feel warm inside and you think part of you’s gonna stay stuck here forever. Forever with Mikey, that sounds nice.

~~~

You’re starting off easy with spaghetti tonight. You bought some new pans and shit, hoping to get it all set up before Mikey comes. You’re thinking about him long before he comes— about how you felt about when you were kids, that bashful feeling you’d get when he’d say hi and that little flicker of jealousy when he talked to other girls or about other girls in front of you. But Mikey Bear was so hopelessly off limits— it’s not like him and Sugar had a bad relationship but she’d never be truly okay with you dating him. Besides, you never did get the vibe that he felt the same way. So you admired from afar, and enjoyed Mikey the same way everyone else did.

But maybe it’ll be different today. Just maybe.

Mikey rings the doorbell and he fills the room the second you open the door, big and loud and joking around as he sets down big cans of tomato sauce and eggs and flour.

“Okay so I got the spaghetti from the store—“

“Stop right there,” Mikey interrupts. “Spice, if we’re cooking, we’re going all out,‘kay? Now c’mere, I want you to grab a knife and start cutting this onion up.” Mikey grabs his phone and starts playing some music from the tinny-sounding speaker. It’s not a song you recognize but Mikey sings along to it anyways, humming and stirring the eggs and flour to make the pasta himself.

You work on cutting the onions but you’re slow, something that doesn’t surprise you but you feel a little embarrassed next to Mikey.

“Spice, hey, hey, Spice, you’re cuttin’ those up all wrong,” Mikey says in quick alarm. He comes up from behind you, fingers encircling your wrist as he presses his chest into your back. You don’t know if you’re breathing— you think you forgot how to, the warmth of his body making your brain short circuit. Mikey covers your hand with his own, moving the knife through the onion and leaning down so his face is next to yours.

“All done,” Mikey murmurs, stepping back, and the immediate loss of his warmth sends a pang of want up your spine.

You work for the rest of his dinner under his guidance, enjoying how he tells you about Tina and Ebra and what Fak’s been up to, laughing at all the right points and feeling so much like that version of you that had been so in love with him. He makes the pasta from scratch, making a mess of your kitchen counters, but mess is a memory and you’re glad to make it with Mikey.

He’s so gentle with you, and it’s obvious in the way he talks about your life in L.A.. He offers you a job at The Beef but you turn it down, knowing it’ll just run you back to what you ran from, just this time without the dead weight. But he’s so fuckin’ sweet it might rot your teeth. Mikey makes you feel like you’re some sort of comedic genius— like every word that comes out of your mouth is one that he couldn't be more fascinated by. You’re sure he’s like this with everyone (because that’s who Michael Berzatto is, he walks into a room and everyone loves him) but you feel… special. And maybe he really does care because he’s got this look in his eye that makes you wanna lean in and kiss him the way you wanted to when you were young and he was only a couple years older or when he watched chick flicks with you and Sug because he wanted to spend time with her. You’ve gotten the little side rays of his light but this, this sweetness unfiltered and on your tongue, he’s so bright and you can’t look away and you want all of him. All of Michael Berzatto.

“Alright, Spice. What was the best part of L.A.?” Mikey asks you as you set the plates of spaghetti down on the table, sitting across from him.

“Uh. Leaving it?” You laugh, prompting Mikey to laugh too.

“Nah, but I’m serious. There’s gotta be one thing that you liked about it, right?” He asks, leaning his elbows on the table. The pieces of his hair fall into his face, giving him that rugged, could-care-less Mikey look that you’ve never been able to resist.

“Okay, well, uh, there was this crow who was always right by my apartment complex, and I know it sounds ridiculous, but he knew me. Like, I’d feed him seeds and fruits and shit like that every single day before my shifts, and most days it felt like he was the only living thing in that city who would care if I was gone. He’d bring me coins and twigs and bits and baubles all the time and I thought it was just the sweetest. And then one day I saw that he had a little nest with little eggs in it and then I thought, y’know, I think it’s time for me to move on too.” You smile at the memory.

“Fuckin’ Snow White over here,” Mikey teases.

“Shut up,” you laugh. “So what about you? How has The Beef been running? I’m so proud of you about it, by the way. And I heard you moved in to help Donna out. You’re the fuckin’ sweetest, Mikey Bear.” You see Mikey’s eyes dim for a second— just a brief flash, gone so fast you thought you imagined it, because the next second he’s back to smiling and laughing.

“It’s good, Spice. It’s real good.”

“And you love it?” You guessed, smiling. Mikey sips his water and smiles back at you. You take note of his silence but don’t say anything, eating your spaghetti as he moves on to the next great Mikey story.

~~~

Mikey comes over a lot. It’s not every day but it’s damn near close to it. It’s comfortable. He comes by your house on the way back to the Berzatto house, and he brings food and teaches you how to cook and peel and season and makes you feel loved through his food. You feel special, like the great Mikey Bear chooses to spend time with you so often.

You’re making chicken-pepper tonight, which is something that The Beef holds on its menu.

“I feel pretty special, being taught by a subject matter expert on this,” you tease Mikey as he murmurs a behind, hands ghosting your hips as he squeezes past you in your tight kitchen.

“Alright, Spice, you gotta give me some room here,” he grunts, towel slung over his shoulder as he moves the pan with the chicken off of the stove.

“I’m trying, Mikey, but there’s no damn room and I still wanna watch what you do,” you groan. He nods, like he’s thinking of something— which is dangerous, because Mikey’s ideas usually are. Before you can register it, Mikey’s bent down and wrapped his big, beefy arms around your waist and hoisted you onto your countertops.

“This work, Spice?” He asks cheekily, seasoning the chicken as you blink in surprise.

“I mean… I guess so,” You stammer out, confused. You’re distracted as you watch him cook, your mind dwelling on the feeling of his hands on your body, thinking about what it might feel like if he came over here and kissed you right now. You’ve missed several steps by the time that Michael calls out your name, holding out a fork with a little piece of chicken on it.

“Where’d you go, Spice?” He asks you softly, blowing on the food before he holds it to your mouth. Mikey’s eyes are tender as they meet yours— no judgment, just a genuine want to know what you’re thinking. It makes you think of the difference with how your ex treated you, how he’d ridicule you when you got lost in thought. “You do that a lot?” You shrug, chewing on the chicken as you nod.

“Mikey, that’s delicious,” you smile. You’re lost in his eyes for a second, and the world feels like it hit pause. The warm glow of your kitchen lights make everything softer, and your hand reaches out to rest against Mikey’s face. You rub your thumb softly against his skin and he’s staring back at you, eyes gentle as he looks at you.

“Hey, can I- can I try something?” You ask, almost shyly as you steel yourself with the courage to go through with it. When Mikey nods you push yourself straight, lips hovering a centimeter away from his before he bridges the gap. His lips are soft and warm against yours, moving just slightly before he pulls back.

“Spice, I… I’m sorry, but we can’t,” Mikey says, taking a step back as a red flush rises up his neck.

“No, I’m sorry, I get it,” you say, heart beating rapidly. You try to squash the swell of nausea but you can’t, the anxiety welling up in you as you realize you’ve gone and fucked it up. “Um, should we eat now?”

“Nah, I think— I think I’m gonna head home, Mom probably needs me,” Mikey says, swallowing roughly. You want to cry— you can’t lose him, but you’ve got to give him his space.

“I’ll see you tomorrow then?” You ask hopefully, a surge of disappointment rising at his hesitant nod. Then he’s out the door, raking a hand through his strands and leaving his hair in disarray. Your nose twitches at the smell of something burning— Mikey forgot to turn off the heat, and now the chicken’s burning. Shit. There goes your dinner, along with the rest of the night. Fucked.

~~~

You waited for Michael the next day. And the next. It took you about a week to realize he wasn’t coming back, and while that was difficult to swallow, you realized you had to keep going. And for the next month you made the dishes you’d made with Mikey, practiced cooking on your own, always making enough for two just in case he stopped by.

You regret the kiss. Of course you do. You thought there was something between you— all that tension building in the kitchen every time you cooked with him, the softness of his hands and how intimate every moment with him felt. But you were wrong. He just saw you as Sugar’s best friend and probably treated you with kindness because of that. Maybe even because he pitied you. Whatever it was, it was your fault that it had fallen apart.

Tonight, though, you have a date. No more sitting around pitying yourself, you’re going out. Sugar connected you with one of Pete’s friends, who’s coming tonight to pick you up and go to a restaurant. You’ve got on your nicest dress, did your hair and makeup and you look good, dammit. So why does it feel like something’s missing?

There’s a sharp rap on your door as you struggle to hook the clasp of your necklace, the noise making you lose your focus.

“Coming!” You call out, a hint of frustration light in your voice as you attempt to hook it while you open the door. To your surprise, it’s Michael at the door, standing with a big grin and a few bags of groceries in his hands.

“Hey, Spice. You’re lookin’ good,” he comments lowly, a hum sitting behind his teeth as he looks you up and down. Your surprise doesn’t outweigh the flutter in your belly when he says that.

“Thanks, Mikey,” you say, hugging the door. “Didn’t realize you were coming today, Bear.”

“You mind if I come inside?” He asks— it’s a formality, he’s already one foot in the door before you can say a word.

“I’ve actually going to dinner tonight, hence the looking-nice-today,” you supply, closing the door after him awkwardly.

“Spice, you look good everyday,” Mikey protests, already headed to the kitchen to put down his bags. “For dinner tonight— branzino?”

“Mikey, Bear, you didn’t hear me right, honey. I’m— I’m going out. For a date.” Michael freezes then, bags slipping through his fingers as some shadow crosses his face.

“Oh.” Oh? That’s all he has to say? Whatever.

“Yeah. And I’m, um, I’m sorry about the— the, y’know, the kiss. I feel really terrible about it.” You reach back to attempt to fix the clasp, but Mikey’s already walking towards you.

“Nah, lemme get that for you,” he says, and his fingers sweep across the back of your neck, right where it’s sensitive, following the bumps of your spine to where you’re holding the clasp up and he takes it from you. Mikey looms over you as he stands behind you and he’s so everything that you almost feel like he’s engulfing you. It’s bad that you want to throw yourself into his arms and say fuck the date. Especially because that’s not what Mikey wants.

There’s a knock on the door by the time he’s finished figuring out the contraption.

“That’s him,” you say, turning to him shyly. “Whaddya think, Bear? Does it look nice?”

“Get the door, Spice,” he says quietly, leaning back on the kitchen counter as you fake a smile at his subtle rejection. You open the door and Pete’s friend stands there— typical finance bro, Patagonia vest and all but you’ll hand it to him that he looks nice.

“Hey, Jacob,” you smile, reaching out to hug him. “It’s nice to meet you. Come on in, I’ll just grab my shoes and my keys and then we can go?”

“Sounds good,” Jacob responds, kicking off his shoes and stepping into your apartment. “I’m Jacob, it’s nice to meet you,” he extends a hand to Mikey, who just looks at it stoically.

“And I didn’t ask. Spice, you’re going out with this guy? Nope. Josh or whatever the fuck your name was, you can leave now.” Jacob stammers as he looks at you and Mikey, unsure of what to do.

“Mikey, cool it, you’re being a bit of an asshole right now,” you say, slipping your purse over your shoulder.

“Nah. Leave,” he says, standing up straight. And it’s fucking intimidating. You’ve never seen Mikey like this, all big and mean and up in someone else’s face. “You don’t even deserve to be in her apartment right now. And I’m being nice to you so fuckin’ get a move on and leave.”

“Michael Berzatto!” You admonish, but Jacob is already backing up.

“Look man, I don’t know what’s going on here but I just came to take her on a date—“

“And that right there is the problem. You ever come round here again and I swear to you you’ll regret it,” Michael snarls. His face is distorted with red-hot anger, and you don’t know what you can do.

“I think it’s best you leave,” you murmur to Jacob. “I’m sorry about this,” you say, walking him to the door as Michael fumes behind you. The door closes with a soft click, and you rest your head on the cool surface as you gather yourself.

“Spice, I-“

“Michael Berzatto, what the fuck was that?” You shout. He winces and you know you should reign it in, keep your cool, but you’re absolutely furious with him. “You embarrassed me back there!”

“Spice, baby, he doesn’t deserve you. I’m just lookin’ out for you,” he murmurs, but there’s a desperate quality to it. Like he wants to convince you but even more so himself.

“This is just fucking— this is unfair as fuck, Michael,” you warn, tossing your jacket and purse onto the couch in your anger. You reach back to undo the necklace Michael had just put on you, smacking his arm away when he reaches out to help you. “If he doesn’t fucking deserve me, who does, huh? You? Does the great Michael Berzatto deserve me?” You sneer angrily, pushing his chest as you get in his space

“I don’t deserve you,” He responds quietly, meeting your eyes with such tragedy that it chips away at your stony resolve. When you go silent at his words, he hesitantly reaches out to cradle your jaw, tucking his fingers behind your ear and stroking his thumbs on your jaw. “I don’t, Spice. I’m a fucking mess and that’s why I didn’t come around for so long because if I came back,” Mikey swallows softly, leaning down to your face so that his forehead is pressed against yours, his nose brushing yours and you can’t think about anything other than his lips, his lips that you wanna kiss but can’t, shouldn’t—“I’d wanna kiss you all over again.”

“Can’t you let me make that decision?” You plead, encircling Mikey’s wrists with your hands as he pulls away, staring at you like you’re a memory of something he’s lost. “I’m right here, Bear,” you remind him, snapping him out of his reverie. He tries to move his hands away but you hold on tighter, pleading him silently to stay, to fix this.

“Forget me, Spice. For your own sake.” Mikey pulls away, giving you a look full of longing and regret, and leaves you, with just his two bags of groceries and the faint feeling that your heart just got broken.

~~~

It’s been a month since that night. Time feels like molasses—sticky, slow around you as you wade through everyday life. It feels like you’re being pulled back to him— every meal you eat, you wish it was with him; every time you meet with Sugar, you’re dragged back to the memory of him, the ghost of his presence just hovering behind your shoulder. You’re stuck, but you’re doing your best to make it through. After all, it’s not like you have another option. Mikey’s changing, too. You see it proximally— the way Sugar dims when Mikey’s mentioned, the way that he banned Carmy from The Beef. He’s lashing out, you know it, but you can’t interfere. It’s not your place.

You’ve been going over to Sugar’s a lot now. She’s got that boy, Pete, who may be a little boring but he anchors her and he treats her right and she loves him. He’s exactly what Sugar has ever needed. It makes you think of your own life, what you need, and if you’ll ever get it. Because the more time that passes, you get more and more convinced that the Mikey-sized hole in your life can’t be filled by anyone else. You can’t think of anyone else who has brought more comfort to your life, who knows you more than anyone, who makes your heart thump with just a smile. Maybe Mikey was it, and now you’re never gonna get that back.

You’re coming back from Sugar’s, sitting silently in your car with your head resting on the cool glass window as you think of Mikey. You do a lot of that. The ring of your phone snaps you out of your memories, your ringtone singing out in the space of your car as you sit and watch it go. It feels like a grenade, like something ominous so you let it ring, the feeling of something unsettled heavy in your stomach. And right before the call drops, you pick up.

“Hello?” You ask, the unfamiliar Caller ID throwing you off. There’s a beat of silence and you move to hang up, thinking that it’s just spam.

“Spice,” Mikey’s voice rings out. His speech is slurred, slow, and that heavy feeling in your gut sits like a boulder when you hear his voice. The sound of it makes tears well up in your eyes, and you grip the leather of your steering wheel to ground yourself. Why did he call? Didn’t he tell you to forget him? “Spice, could you come get me from the police precinct on 9th?”

“What did you do?” You whisper, hanging up and putting the key back in the ignition to go get him. You hate yourself for doing this, for being at his beck and call as you speed on your way to the station. It’s late, the fluorescents buzzing overhead when you stride into the police station.

“I’m here to pay bail for Michael Berzatto?” You ask the desk jockey in front of you, already pulling out your wallet.

“You the one that hung up on him?” He asks, squinting at you as he takes your card and processes it. You nod, just wanting to see Michael already. “Huh. We didn’t think you’d come,” He scoffs. “Anyways, since he listed you as his emergency phone call, we thought you should know; we found this in his coat pocket, has his name on it and everything but just in case.” He hands you a little orange prescription bottle, only a quarter of it left as the pills rattle in the bottle. Painkillers. You tamp down your shock and nod, choosing to stay wordless so you don’t incriminate him. The jockey sighs, standing up and beckoning you to follow him to the Drunk Tank. You spot Mikey immediately, shaggy strands falling before his eyes, beard grown out and that tired, tired look on his face that just pierces your stomach.

“Michael Berzatto?” The jockey calls out, clearly bored. Michael’s head snaps up and you see that heartbreaking combination of regret and gratefulness in his eyes when he sees you. “You’re free to go,” He sighs, waving Mikey out and shutting the door again.

“I didn’t think you’d come,” He stammers, uncertain, looking down at you like he doesn’t know what the hell he’s supposed to do now. You nod sharply, unable to find the words as you walk briskly to your car. Mikey trails behind you like a drawn-out shadow, lingering behind you as you throw open the passenger side door and make your way to your own door.

“Get in,” You call out, buckling your seatbelt and staring straight ahead stubbornly. He follows suit, looking almost out of place as his large frame settles in the passenger seat. You make it to the first traffic light out of the precinct before you manage to say a word, frustration making your eyes sting with tears.

“Are you abusing painkillers?” You ask him abruptly, dabbing the corners of your eyes with the pads of your fingers as tears escape you. He’s silent next to you, because he knows you know. You look over at him and his jaw is clenched, gaze trained at his hands as he squeezes his eyes shut. “Why didn’t you ask us for help?” You ask him desperately as the silence becomes traitorous. “You’ve got something good going on. You can get better, Mikey,” You plead with him.

“You think I could ask you for help?” He asks, gripping the side of the door as he looks up at you. “You think I could ask Sugar for help? And be that fuckin’ selfish?” He sniffs, wiping his own tears away with the sleeve of his shirt. “I’m like a black hole, Spice. All my fucked-up shit would just pull you in and suck out your good until you’re just like me.” You nod, looking ahead as you continue driving in silence.

“And you really believe that?” You ask, disbelief lacing your tone. “You think it’s better to go through this alone?”

“I can get out of this,” he protests, and you don’t know who he’s trying to convince.

“You don’t have to,” You say quietly. “Michael, please stop pushing us away,” you plead, a sob catching in the back of your throat. He’s scaring you now, the way he’s talking, the danger that he’s in. You just want him safe.

“I can’t,” Michael admits, tears falling freely from his eyes as he confesses. “I’m not strong enough to stop and there’s no way out for me.”

“Yes there is!” You shout. “Michael, look at me! There is a way out of this and you deserve that way out! You won’t be hurting anyone if you ask for help. We need you just as much as you need us, Mikey.” You sigh, pulling into your apartment complex finally.

“I love you, Michael,” You confess, holding his hand and forcing him to look at you. “I have for a long, long time, and that’s not going anywhere. I don’t want anything in return,” You say softly, stroking his knuckles as he closes his eyes, leaning forward to rest his forehead on yours. “Just stay safe with me. For now, okay?” You ask, quietly pulling away, eager to get him into your apartment where you know he’ll be safe. Mikey nods.

You don’t know if he’ll be safe tomorrow. But for now, he’s safe with you, and that’s all that matters.

#jon bernthal fic #mikey berzatto x reader #angst with no happy ending #michael berzatto x reader #the bear #the bear fics #mikey berzatto #distortionbobble's fics #reader insert #angst

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mdawgswizzleinthehizzle · 5 months

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i’m doing a rewatch of the last of us hbo and i’m really realizing how cut and worn down joel gets in episode 6.

one thing right after the other happens to him and it’s honestly insane how long he kept his shit together, so i’m gonna spell it out…

and maybe those of y’all that call joel too emotional or soft in the show for having his breakdown can understand why…

within the first few minutes, joel is told by the couple in the cabin that there is a fairly good likelihood that his brother is dead. that alone would have sent me into a spiral and it does really impact joel like we haven’t seen before. after he and ellie leave the cabin, he has panic attack #1.

i’m gonna be a little transparent here and say this: i developed anxiety in 2020 that was debilitating for months and although i am in a much better place today, i’m still dealing with anxiety all the time. during the worst of it, i had panic attacks and while my trauma is nowhere near close to joel’s, i know how draining panic attacks are.

but anyways, he has his panic attack and moves on but for the remainder of the trip, until he is reunited with tommy, he is stuck with the thought that his brother may be dead. and all this time spent protecting him and then looking for him was in vain. he couldn’t save him in time. another failure.

between their reunion though, we see joel having nightmares. in the cave, after he falls asleep on watch, its very clear he wakes up from a nightmare. with the way he immediately searches for ellie upon waking, my guess is that his nightmare was about her.

then they are surrounded by jackson’s patrol. and joel has panic attack #2. once again, about ellie, fearing that she is about to be torn up by the dog, but his panic attack won’t allow him to do anything. he freezes.

there is a brief moment of happiness when he is reunited with tommy but it is quickly snuffed when he realizes tommy’s situation. tommy doesn’t need his help, he hasn’t this whole time, his brother has a wife and later finds out that he is expecting a baby. his brother has been living it up as best as someone can in the apocalypse and never radioed to joel ONCE to tell him he was okay.

at the table, when ellie, joel, tommy and maria are talking, maria very pointedly looks at joel when tommy says “a bad reputation doesn’t mean you’re bad” and maria says “not always, at least”. maria already doesn’t like him because apparently tommy has talked something bad about him. his own brother.

then he has a talk with tommy in the bar. its clear that his trust in tommy is shaky by this point because he lies to tommy about tess and ellie. then he has his fight with him and when he walks out of the bar, he has panic attack #3. let’s add insult to injury because then he sees someone who resembles sarah, his dead daughter. not only that but the lady has a kid of her own, something to resemble what joel never got: grandchildren.

then he finally has his breakdown. another little insult to injury, tommy gives him brand new boots since he noticed joel was trying to fix his old ones. another reminder that tommy is well off. the things he confesses to tommy are absolutely heartbreaking and its insane that he has been able to keep it all in to that point.

he is then faced with the choice of giving ellie over to tommy because while ellie feels less afraid with joel, joel feels more afraid with her.

then he has his fight with ellie where ellie uses his daughter against him (and i understand her desperation, i do). that was a really rough fight and once joel is alone in his room, we can see him shed another tear thinking of sarah.

the next day comes, and joel goes back on his choice and takes ellie. he has to say goodbye to his brother again but at least for a while after that, joel gets a break. he has fun and bonds with ellie on their trip.

… until he gets stabbed at the end of the episode.

so… to anyone that says joel is too soft in the show or too emotional, let’s remember that he is human. game joel is humanized too but its also a game. for the show, they had to really humanize joel which means that he is going to be much more mentally affected than game joel is throughout the story. panic attacks and crying are not soft or emotional, they aren’t weak, this man has been through hell and its a wonder he has made it this far. we only see three panic attacks but if they are that frequent, i can guarantee he has had more that we don’t see.

episode 6 really bashes him, its no wonder he broke down to tommy. pedro did an amazing job. he’s got me cryin’ everytime i watch it.

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ynisreal · 6 months

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wires (1) - michael afton x reader

author´s note: i posted this on AO3 and thought, since i read a LOT of fanfiction in here as well, why not post here too? soooo here is my lil contribuition :D summary: A reader-insert in which you work as a security guard at Sister Location and you start to feel a little too drawn to the night security guard. Or Michael has already been scooped and can't get out of the establishment, becoming the night security guard. So the only entertainment he has is the cute daytime security guard who is a bit clumsy.

Chapter One

Since the incident that ended Michael's life, he hasn't been able to leave the same place where death found him. Fazbear Sister Location has become his home, not so comfortable, but it works for him. Michael knows that he won't be able to live a normal life in the state he's in, purple and ever-falling skin, exposed bones and black eyes. No longer alive. The animatronics who did this to him, including his sister, decided to let his body decompose in an alley, and he had no choice but to crawl to the place where he took his last breath.

He didn't blame his sister, far from it, he knew she was trying to protect herself and couldn't recognize her own brother's face. Imagine being so blinded by anger and fear that you can't recognize your sibling. Well, he knows he can blame the shitty father they both had for recent events. That was already a relief in his chest. Michael already carried a lot of guilt in his heart, he didn't need any more of it.

The days were monotonous. Henry came to visit one day or another, always with clothes in hand and a few items from Mike's place to comfort the undead. Michael was grateful for Henry, knowing that the poor man was still struggling with the grief of his own daughter, so he helped Michael in any way he could, welcoming him like the child he had lost. They talked, Henry hoping that he could build something to help Michael live normally again, which they both knew was unlikely. There was no going back, he had lost his life, now a ghost in his own rotting body.

Michael was now in charge of the establishment, forever a security guard who worked night and day shifts. Every hour of his day was spent walking the corridors, watching the same movies on the old television Henry had installed for him, cleaning the same toilets and reading any book or magazine he could find in the staff room.

"The other employees of the company are beginning to question why this establishment is still empty," Henry continues. Michael, who had been lost in his thoughts, returned to paying attention to what his father's former friend was saying. "Apparently, they want to start a bigger project on this site, and they need the place intact, so they're pressing to have a security guard here for when the construction company comes."

Oh yes, Michael wasn't officially the security guard. He was only officially dead.

"Create a false identity for me and I can take care of security," Michael shrugged, looking at the older man in front of him, "The establishment would be under observation all hours of the day, after all, I can't get out of here," he tried to make a joke, but neither he nor Henry seemed to find it funny.

"What about when the staff arrive to redesign the place during the day? Are you going to serve them little cups of coffee and cookies looking like that?" Henry says dryly. Ouch, that pained Michael. He knows what he was suggesting was a bit insane, the day shift would be impossible to avoid being spotted.

"Okay, so you're going to put a security guard on the day shift, and what about me? Am I going to beg him not to tell the others about me?" Michael replies in the same way, a little frustrated that the solution was so simple and yet so impossible at the same time: he just had to get out of here.

"No," Henry replies, "You stay hidden."

Michael doesn't answer the older man. He knows Henry is right, but it's so unfair to go through what he's been through and have to live in hiding. In the same shadows that those who killed him live in. His whole life was built on injustice, the death of his brother, the constant running away from his father, the terror the poor children suffered, his own death and what came after it. Injustice was no stranger to Michael, so he accepts what his reality will become in the coming days. Spending the day hiding in the small back room, locked up like an animal, until night comes and he is able to roam not so freely around the establishment where he died.

Great.

Henry gave Michael one last hug, saying he would be back in the next few days to bring the younger man some comfort items, promising to bring him some interesting new movies or books. Honestly, Henry knows that no movie or book would improve the situation of the man he considered his own son, but he had to play with the pieces he had.

The next two days passed in the same way as the others, Henry visiting, mopping the same floors, watching the same movies and reading the same magazines. On the third day, Henry had warned him that the new security guard would be arriving at 6 o'clock in the morning. She was apparently a woman a little younger than Mike, desperate to find a job to help support her younger sister. Henry described you as a sweet, quiet woman, who certainly won't bring any more problems into Michael's life. Mike sighed in relief.

The day began with Michael quickly locking the door to the room he was in. It was a spare back room used to store the remains of the animatronics that had escaped and other old things from other establishments, making it spacious enough for him to put a mattress on the floor and the small television that Henry had installed. Genuinely, it was the best Michael could ask for in this situation.

He hears you entering the main hall, the little-used doors making a loud noise down the corridors. He also hears that the sound of the doors startles you, causing you to let out a nervous yelp, which puts a small smile on Michael's face. If you are that easily frightened, perhaps it wasn't the best option to work in a place with a reputation as dirty and shady as Fazbear Entertainment's establishments.

You really had been startled by the loud noise from the doors, not expecting a noise assault at this time of the morning. It's 6 a.m. and you've barely slept, a little bit spooked by the rumors your little sister told you when you revealed where you were going to work. She was only 10, but she didn't seem to be afraid of anything, creating a hard shell after so many years of watching you deal with the difficulties of studying, working and looking after her at the same time. Your sister looked up to you, and wanted to help you in any way she could, so she didn't seem like a child at times. Some nights you were relieved that she was so mature, but soon you regretted it, feeling ignorant for not having been able to give her a normal childhood.

Your father threw your mother out of the house when he found out about her constant lovers, which led to you being thrown out too. You had nothing to do with what your mother did, you were just a child, which is why you loathe your father to this day. Your mother wasn't much help either, getting pregnant with your little sister a short time later, by a random man she met in the bar. She didn't make an effort to look after you or your sister, so it didn't surprise you to wake up one day and see her goodbye note with lunch money inside.

You walk through the main hall impressed by how clean it was. Oh well, the last security guard must have constantly cleaned everything. You think as you reach for the switch to turn on the lights, already reaching for the map you'd been given during your interview, explaining each room and what you had to do during your shift. It consisted of looking at the cameras to prevent intruders, keeping an eye on the employees who were going to redesign the establishment and locking the doors when either they or you leave, so that the night security guard could take over the next shift.

However, after looking at the clean and tidy state in which the last security guard left the corridors and rooms, you felt guilty for not keeping them clean too, wanting to maintain the hard work he had put in. As you sat down in the chair in the control room, you turned on the monitors to watch the cameras and wait for the architects who had said they would arrive today, placing a small napkin under your coffee cup to avoid staining the wood of the table. You´re welcome, last security.

The first few hours of your workday pass quietly, even a little tediously, as you stare at the screens in front of you, feeling your eyes burn at the image of empty corridors and stages just as blank. The sweet man who had interviewed you had told you about the transfer of the animatronics, but unfortunately for him, you had learned from a young age to spot when older people were lying to you. Whether it was intuition or pure coincidence, you had realized that he wasn't telling you the real reason why there were no animatronics on stage at the moment, and, combined with your sister's stories, you found yourself a little wary, not taking your eyes off the monitors.

"We're here, Y/n, open up here," you were startled by the sudden voice coming from the radio the company had given you, recognizing that it was the architects who had arrived on the scene. "Okay, I'll be right there," you reply almost immediately, getting up to walk to the main hall. The architects had already gone up the elevator and were standing behind the main door, waiting for you to unlock it.

"Wow, that door makes a loud fucking noise," the man wearing a suit and carrying a briefcase said when you opened the doors, his voice sounding frantic. You flinched at the sound of such a rude voice ruining the silence you'd been in for hours. He was accompanied by a shorter woman, who was in more casual clothes and carrying too many materials for her small arms to hold. "You must be the new security guard," the architect in the suit looked at you, his tone not at all inviting.

"Yes, my name is-" you stop your sentence when you see that he hasn't waited for your answer, and instead started walking down the hall with a small notebook now in hand, leaving the briefcase at your feet.

You allow your mouth to drop into an expression of surprise, looking down at the briefcase at your foot, waiting to be picked up in your arms. "Sorry, Mr. Noah had a bad day," the woman in front of you says, a nervous smile on her face, trying to make up for what her boss was doing, "My name is Alice." She tries to extend her hand to greet you, but some of the materials she was holding fall to the floor.

You bend down to pick up what had fallen and the briefcase that was still on your feet. "My name is Y/n," you reply, still incredulous at the whole situation, helping Alice carry the materials and the briefcase, realizing how difficult it was to keep everything in just two hands. Wow, this woman has been carrying this around all day?. Alice starts to follow her boss, Noah, when she hears him call out, a little annoyed that his things had fallen. You had no choice but to follow her, going after the man who was so caught up in his own ego to notice his own actions.

You showed the map to both of them, taking them to the rooms they wanted to see. The two of them worked in a frustrating dynamic, with Noah constantly making observations and critiques of the establishment's architecture, coming up with ideas for the new attraction and who they should call in to help with the redesign, and Alice writing down every word that came out of the rude man's big mouth. You grew increasingly tired of the architect's voice, already exhausted from going back and forth to the hall where they had left the materials to bring some item he needed.

Noah seemed satisfied with his ideas when it started to get dark, as he finally shut up and, without warning, started walking towards the exit of Ballora's Gallery, calling Alice to follow him. Once again, you had no choice but to go after them both, the stress and tiredness already getting to you, but relieved that they seemed to be leaving. You open the doors for both of them, returning the small nod and smile that Alice gave you before disappearing into the elevator.

When you lock the door, you pull up the sleeves of your uniform to check the time. It was 5 o'clock in the afternoon, one hour before your workday ended and that of the night security guard would begin. A tired sigh escapes your lips as you quickly close your eyes, imagining your warm bed and the plate of food waiting for you at home. Man, I just want this first day to be over. You've been on your nerves all day, with Noah's absurdly annoying voice and your fear of the stories you've heard, your body going rigid every time you heard some strange noise.

Your legs practically carry you into the control room, dumping you into the chair, feeling the relief of letting your leg muscles rest from having stood too long watching Alice and Noah work. You adjusted your spine to rest against the back of the uncomfortable chair, prepared to spend the final hour letting the monitor screens burn your retina once again. But your body seemed to have another idea: as soon as you leaned your head against the palm of your hand, your eyes began to feel heavy, and with every second that passed, they felt heavier and heavier. At some point, you blinked and didn't open your eyes again, letting your head fall into your own arms and falling asleep on the control desk.

It's already 6 o'clock, why hasn't she left yet? Michael wondered when he didn't hear your footsteps or the doors closing. He had learned your name today, Y/n, several times hearing a female voice, which sounded like one of the employees who had visited today, call you by it. Alice and Noah were the employees. The constant "Yes, Mr. Noah" in a shy, nervous tone still burned his ears. It felt strange to hear so much commotion in the place he had lived quietly for a while, at least he liked your voice. Michael could hear your brief explanations of the features of each room, a really sweet voice like Henry had described. You spoke politely, even though your tone seemed irritated when you answered the arrogant man, you still expressed yourself calmly and with good manners.

Michael kept wondering how you managed to behave so calmly even though there was clear irritation in your voice. He was always the opposite, letting his emotions get the better of him, getting into unnecessary fights as a teenager, and not improving much as a young adult. His investigation with Henry helped him create a focus in his life after his brother's death and his father's crimes, centering his anger and violence on avenging those who had suffered at the hands of his father. So if it were him in your shoes today, Noah would probably have left the establishment with more than a black eye.

It was close to 6:30 and he still hadn't heard any sign of your departure. Michael immediately began to worry: Had the animatronics come back? Had you hurt yourself on an exposed wire? Had you gotten lost in a random room? As the minutes ticked by, Michael's worries grew louder and louder; he genuinely couldn't bear another death on his hands due to carelessness or negligence. With anxiety almost making him deaf, once again letting his emotions take over his consciousness, Michael tucks the "Security" vest into his hoodie, pulling the hood over his head, and opens the door of the room where he was hiding. He had to make sure you were all right, not wanting another person to die for this miserable franchise. You were almost his age and your sister was waiting for you at home, so you needed to be okay.

Michael walked quickly through the corridors that he had memorized in his mind, heading for the control room, knowing that the security guards were tasked with looking at the same monitors he already looked at. To his surprise, you weren't dead or lost, in fact, you were asleep. Little sighs escaped your lips, showing how tiring your first day had been, which made Michael smile slightly. How he missed being able to meet up with other people, only having Henry's company. And he was grateful that this lack of contact was broken by the sight of you lying on the control desk, a few strands of hair scattered over the controls, leaving your face visible to Michael's eyes. You were beautiful, Michael noticed, young and pretty, some features tired by the probable weight of looking after your sister alone. Perhaps in another life, he would have asked for your number in a bar or asked you out on a date. In another life, he wouldn't be cursed by his father's crimes and still alive. This last thought seemed to wake Michael from his daydream, and he quietly stepped away from the chair, going to hide behind the shadows that the corridors were creating, not wanting to be seen.

"Good night," he says in a loud, hoarse tone. This seems to surprise you, as you stand up wide-eyed and in a defensive position, letting a small yelp come out of your mouth. You rub your eyes, your tiredness immediately leaving your body to answer whoever was calling you. Your eyes scan the control room, finding no one, until your gaze meets the tall figure at the door. It was a man, tall and broad-shouldered, his hood hid his face and his hands were in his pockets. You couldn't make out who he was or any trace of him, only the silhouette of a stranger in the shadows. From his voice and what the shadows let you see of his body, he seemed to be about your age, his shoulders broad and the sleeves of his jacket a little too tight around his biceps.

"Your shift is over," the man's shadow speaks again. You roll up the sleeves of your uniform to look at the time. Shit, it's almost 7 o'clock at night. Your eyes widen and your cheeks turn red, embarrassed at being caught sleeping on the job. Michael had to hold back the smile that wanted to grow, finding your reaction incredibly cute. You really were very beautiful, it was nice to see someone so beautiful after so long looking only at the floorboards and the cleaning products. If this was the last time he would have human contact, he was more than satisfied.

"Shit, I'm so sorry-" You quickly say, collecting your things from the table and tossing them rapidly into your backpack, which was leaning against the corner of the room. "I'm leaving, I'm really sorry," you repeated as you slipped the straps over your shoulders and walked towards the door. Michael sank a little further into the shadows, letting you pass him and start walking towards the front door. Although your steps were quick, you noticed as you passed him the difference in height that was made, the man had a remarkable presence, being much taller than you, with wide arms and a thick voice. You blushed a little more.

Michael wanted to follow you, take you to the door and extend the moment a little longer, not wanting the first human contact he had after such a long time to be so brief. He wanted more time to engrave your face. But he didn't follow you, he didn't want to risk being seen. He wasn't expecting you to suddenly stop in your tracks, turning your body towards him, with a shy smile on your face.

"Hm, good evening and good work..." You waited for the man in the shadows to respond with his name. Michael let his eyes wander down your body, the security uniform fitting your curves beautifully. Thank you for this last gift, whatever entity is up there listening to me.

"Michael," he replied, his voice a little less dry, a smile invisible to you taking over the man's features. You really wouldn't be any trouble for him, as Henry had said.

You crack a smile, raising your hand to wave goodbye to the night security guard.

"Y/n," you respond.

#fnaf #fnaf movie #michael afton #michael afton x reader #michael afton fanfic #scooped michael #fnaf fanfic #fnaf x reader #michael afton x you #fnaf michael afton #five nights at freddys

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babybluebex · 1 year

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Hi! Congrats on 13k that’s insane!! I have an angsty Eddie idea. I know people tend to headcanon that is Mother is dead. But what if she just left when he was little? Could we please please pleaseee see what would happen if adult Eddie had to find out that she was happy with another family?

UNLUCKY 13 ANGST NIGHT omg yes this is gonna be good

When you walked into the trailer that afternoon, loaded down with the required groceries to make dinner, you didn't expect to see Eddie sitting on the couch, head in his hands, sobbing heavily. Eddie was pretty open with his emotions and he cried every so often (most recently, watching an old VHS of Dumbo), but he never sobbed.

"Eddie!" you gasped, dropping the plastic shopping bags and going to him, dropping to your knees in front of him and grabbing his hands. "What's wrong? Are you hurt?"

Eddie sniffled, and he pulled his hands away from his face to expose his red cheeks and watery eyes. His lips were pouted out as he sobbed again, and he wordlessly grabbed a bit of crumpled paper next to him and shoved it into your hands. "Baby, what is this?" you asked, slowly unraveling the paper, and you saw a pit of printer paper with neat pen scrawl on it. Some of the ink was smudged from Eddie's tears, and you took a moment to read the contents of it.

The letter detailed a recent trip to New York City that the writer had taken, talking about everything they did and saw, and they spent a lot of time discussing what "Jim and David" did. The end of the letter implored Eddie to write back before signing off "I love you, baby, Loretta".

"Eddie, who is this?" you asked slowly. "Who's Loretta?"

"My mom," Eddie said, his voice watery. "She— She left when I was little, left me alone with my dad, and... And look! She's so happy!"

"Oh, Eds," you mumbled. "Baby, who's Jim and David?"

"My stepdad," Eddie said. "Her new husband. And Dave is my brother— half brother. He's 13. She found someone new, she replaced us, she replaced me. And she's so much happier with them than she ever was with us."

"Babe," you whispered. Eddie's voice was full of a venom that you had never heard from him before; he never spoke about his mother, and you assumed that maybe she had passed away with the infrequent amount he talked about her, but this proved that she was alive and well. "I'm so sorry."

"Whatever," Eddie mumbled, wiping his face with his hand. "Fuck her, I'm perfectly happy without her. I have you and Wayne and Hellfire, I have everything I need."

You sighed softly, and you touched his knee, setting the letter aside. "It's okay for you to want a mom, though," you told him. "To want a mom who's there for you."

"Yeah," Eddie said. "It just hurts because... She was my mom first and I feel like she forgets about me until it's convenient. Like I'm nothing but a mistake but, the moment she can brag about something and show off how good things are, I'm the first one she tells."

"That's cruel," you said. "Why do you still talk to her if she treats you like this?"

"I don't," Eddie said. "I haven't answered her letters in years but she keeps sending them. And I'm stupid and I keep reading them, even though I know it'll hurt. Last month, it was 'Oh, Jim got a promotion' and before that 'Dave was top of his class'. They're everything that my dad and I weren't, everything that Wayne and I aren't, and I just... She's a bitch. Plain and simple."

You got up on the couch and sat close to Eddie, and you cradled his head to your chest and let him cry into you. "It'll be okay, baby," you told him. "Listen, we can, like, burn this or whatever you want, okay? Fuck her; she doesn't deserve to know someone as wonderful as you anyway."

#bex answers #anon ask #bex's drabbles #eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #joseph quinn #joseph quinn x reader

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moonshynecybin · 3 months

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#prince of a small country addressing the nation concerning his recent marriage to italian motogp superstar valentino rossi <- oh. OH !!!!! genuinely i need more….. how did they meet…. is marc giving up his title to marry vale….. much to think abt…..

i love this one it’s about marc like. putting down the pr mask and realizing he can have something for himself…

so! much like our marc, in his youth he was a tiny adrenaline junkie obsessed with motorcycles, valentino rossi, and valentino rossi’s y2k bisexual swag. unlike our marc, he was not allowed to continue racing past a certain age bc he is the crown prince of a nation and it was considered too dangerous for him. he rides too hard, he doesn’t want to put that on alex if anything happens to him, etc

but our brave marc is not a complainer! ever! even when he absolutely should be! so he grits his teeth buckles down and does his duty. for his family. for his country. for his brother. for years. but he still keeps tabs on vale, allows himself that small joy. catches races whenever he can—watching them on his phone in airports and the back of cars all over the world. instagram stalking him like a weirdo. trying to covertly attend races with alex in silly disguises SURROUNDED by security, hat pulled low… a wistful thrill in his stomach as he hears the bikes roar past… eyes on valentino the whole way

and then they meet! marc is in his early twenties and they’re at some party marc hates but he’s keeping the big smile on his face as he greets people and vale (here for sponsorship obligation comma bored) notices him across the room and goes hey. that guys hot and looks equally bored! so he goes up, does a silly bit, and is immediately confronted with a full frontal assault of marc’s big dumb smile and shining eyes <3 also realizes he is a fan IMMEDIATELY even though marc is trying to keep it on the DL which he reallyyyyy enjoys so they spend the whole night snickering in their own little world…

whirlwind romance ensues!! and they have history’s least carbon neutral affair over the next few months with the amount of plane rides they charter anshshsgg… truly marc learning to love life and ignore some of his responsibilities for once… insane sex in expensive hotels bc vale wants to show him a good time… extravagant rich people gifts…. personalized helmet tribute only the two of them get… lots of references to marc in interviews that only marc and him understand. like FULLY inside jokes with themselves excluding the press so the other will smile when they watch the interview later when they’re apart… and the CROWN JEWEL PUN NOT INTENDED: ranch visittttttttt where they have a BLAST. vale gets to excercise his clear love of teaching and praise marc, be impressed with his raw talent on the bike. and marc is. SO happy. looks valentino dead in the eye at the end of the day vale’s big hands on either side of his face and tells him this is the best day of his life… and he looks at vale and loves him SO much but feels so trapped by the monarchy (his advisors know this and have been quietly maneuvering the nation towards democracy… marc does not know this) and something cracks in him and he’s just like. i don’t think i can do this anymore. and vale’s face DROPS and marc’s like. do you want to get married. bc he’s insane <3 and it’s the only way he can think to bind vale to him permanently in a way the monarchy/his duty can’t interfere with… like no one can argue with a royal wedding!

SO THEY ELOPE!!! scandal of the century!!! and then marc’s advisors (everyone say thank you to his fictional advisors who create democracy in a nation not bc it is a better form of government but for pure love of the yaoi game) pass the resolution to change the government and marc is FREE to follow vale around the world and get really good on the bike again and learn that it is OKAY to love things and not sacrifice your whole self at the alter of duty :)

#callie speaks #motogp #rosquez #this is like a reverse cinderella where they’re both rich #asks

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xocasper · 1 year

Text

Heaven Ain’t Close in a Place Like This

Pairing: Mikey Way x Reader x Gerard Way Summary: August was barely beginning when you found yourself in Mikey Way’s bunk, but time on tour flies by fast. Between performances and post-show hookups, it feels like you’re with his band more than your own. Thankfully, his brother doesn’t seem to mind. Warnings: NSFW content, fanfic logic Word Count: 6639 A/N: They live! Back from the dead and managed to cough this up. I’ve been making jokes about it since October, opened up the original outline at a Thursday concert, scrapped it half a dozen times, and then pulled this directly out of my ass. I hope you enjoy it!

As insane as being invited onto the Projekt Revolution was, the tour itself was prone to even wilder happenings. With each summer tour your band had played, something crazy had taken place. Between Warped Tour hookups and racy, drunken performances on Taste of Chaos, the next few months were destined to be memorable. In fact, you had already set the tone by the second week, after waking up hungover and pantless with a lanky bassist by your side. One that you were waiting for now, leaning against the side of your bus while the metal scorched your skin.

Under normal circumstances, there was no way you’d be out in this heat, but your bandmate had passed you some cash for a moment of peace. It meant the bus would smell like sex for the night, but twenty bucks was twenty bucks. You could already hear the way Mikey would whine when you told him, knowing he’d complain about having to walk back across the parking lot.

He was already appearing in the distance, clad in a baseball cap and band tee, shooting you a lopsided grin as you waved him over. Before you could react, he came barreling towards you, skidding to a stop and barely avoiding a head-on collision. Hardly sticking the landing, he hooked his arm around your shoulder and leaned against the bus to catch his breath.

“Mikey Way,” you beamed, leaning into his touch. “I’ve got a bit of bad news.”

His head tipped back as he panted, “How bad?”

“Like, ‘Max paid me to leave and let him bang his girlfriend’ bad. I hope your bus is empty.”

If you weren’t so amused, he would’ve been a little annoyed. But then again, he was kinda crazy about you, so he let it slide. Instead, he rolled his eyes, a smile still tugging at his lips as he gave a melodramatic groan. “God, you’re the worst.”

You turned to face him, catching his eyes as you hovered a few inches from him. “That’s not what you were saying the other night.”

He could feel his cheeks heat up, flustered by your brazen remark. Truthfully, you had hooked up a couple more times since the first night, and the sex was significantly better without tequila. The second time was more to prove a point, insisting that he could “blow your mind” while sober. It’s safe to say he convinced you, as you found yourself in his bed every few days.

“Good pussy is good pussy,” he shrugged, his hand dropping to hold yours.

You gave a soft laugh and squeezed his hand, beginning the walk back to his bus. “Are the guys around?”

“Just Gerard. Frank’s off with Lazarra, and I think Ray went to grab lunch.”

Although you were a little disappointed that you couldn’t be alone with him, having Gerard around wasn’t the end of the world. You were friends with him too–not in the same way, but he made good company. Mikey knew what you were getting at, sensing your slight dismay. Holding back an arrogant grin, he nudged your shoulder.

“Why? Were you planning to woo me into bed?” he asked in amusement. “Because I don’t think Gerard would care.”

The question made you laugh, warm and genuine, and you leaned a little closer as he traced shapes onto your hand. You didn’t bother to question his comment about Gerard, figuring that he was just trying to get a rise out of you.

“I was not,” you insisted. “Just curious, that’s all.”

He gave a skeptical mhm, but the banter was quickly dropped as the bus came into view. It was no more than fifteen yards from you, but you still smiled at him mischievously. He turned to face you, catching your expression and raising his eyebrows with another curious hum.

“Race ya,” you said, hardly giving him a chance to register the proposition before you were bolting towards the bus.

You could hear the way his sneakers pounded on the concrete, spewing curses as he hightailed it behind you. His lack of preparation led to an unfortunate downfall, causing him to lose by a few seconds—ones that you spent doubled over in laughter as you pressed yourself against the side of the vehicle. The minute he reached you, he hooked his arms around your waist, tugging you from the wall of the bus while you gasped for breath.

“You fuckin’ cheater,” he wheezed, pulling you into his chest with a laugh.

Your arms looped around his neck, grinning wildly as he rested his forehead against yours. “Eat my dust, Mikey Way.”

His breathing shook, lips turned up as a lousy pickup line rolled off his tongue. “Sure you don’t want me to eat something else instead?”

“You’re so lame,” you cackled, pushing him away.

Mikey reluctantly let you go, watching as you opened the door and collapsed on the couch. He followed suit, sighing in relief as a blast of cool air hit his skin. The two of you were quiet for a moment, the only sounds being heaving chests and tabletop fans. Still, he slipped his arm around your waist again, toying with the hem of your shirt.

“That wasn’t a no,” he teased, earning himself a quick swat.

As tempting as the offer was, his brother was on the other end of the bus, and you knew how thin those doors were. “What about Gerard?”

“I really don’t think he’d mind.”

Okay, that was the second time Mikey had said that. If he was trying to drop hints, this was a really poor way to go about it. You were growing increasingly suspicious, and your only conclusion seemed far too unrealistic. Landing one Way brother was shocking enough, but two? Mikey had to be kidding.

You turned your head to look at him, searching for any sign that he was pulling your leg. He looked completely serious though, eyebrows raised in anticipation. Finally, you managed to reply.

“Do you know something I don’t?”

He grinned, finally dropping the subject as he reached for the remote.

“Yup.”

—

Gerard wasn’t a big partier.

He used to be, way back in the day, following shitty friends into random houses with the promise of weed and cheap booze. Things were different now, though–he had a few close buddies, and they all took his sobriety seriously. Peer pressure and substance were the only motivators for him back then, and without either of them, he had no reason to show up. Contrary to popular belief, he wasn’t exactly a social butterfly, so parties were typically out of the picture.

But here he was, donning a clean shirt and his too-tight jeans, leaning over a nightclub mezzanine while you danced below him. You were pressed close to Mikey, hands resting on his chest as laughter spilled from your lips. Gerard could only imagine what his brother was saying, noting how you buried your head into Mikey’s chest as he beamed with pride. He could feel a jealous jolt in his stomach, longing for the treatment you gave Mikey, even if it was just for a night.

As quiet as Mikey was, he didn’t have much of a filter. Sometimes, he would return to the bus with a familiar glow, just waiting for Gerard to ask where he’d gone after the show. His words would echo when the two of you were alone, every comment and filthy anecdote flooding his head. Everything he shouldn’t know, everything he shouldn’t feel. The tension was suffocating when it settled between you two, his chest caving in as he tried to focus on anything other than immoral desire.

God, you’d stare at him shamelessly, eyes drifting lower until he felt flustered and exposed. It didn’t even matter if his brother was there, sitting inches away as low-budget horror movies flashed on the TV. You would curl up next to Mikey and rest your head against his shoulder, watching the pale television light shine on Gerard. He’d notice sometimes, feeling the blush in his cheeks as you shot him a smug smile, seeming like you wanted him to catch you. Wanted him to know how you ached for him, for his lips on yours, skin to skin as he touched you the way Mikey did.

It wasn’t hard for him to see it, fantasies plaguing his mind at night, the sight of you on your knees and begging him to–

“You’re staring again.”

The sudden interruption made Gerard flinch, recoiling and snapping back to reality. Whipping his head around, he spotted Frank, who took a few steps forward to rest beside him. He flushed and dropped his head against his forearms, preparing himself for another lecture.

“Can you blame me?” he mumbled, reluctantly lifting his head to gesture towards you. “Look at them. Look at the way he’s holding them.”

Frank cast a look towards the two of you, Mikey’s hands drifting dangerously low and your arms around his neck. He didn’t need to read lips to hear your laughter and the free-flowing banter, already familiar with your behavior towards each other. He knew how his poker-faced friend never seemed to stop smiling around you, and he could hear the way you whispered to each other at night as if Mikey’s deadpan jokes were the funniest thing in the world. And now here was Gerard, aching for your touch and ignoring Frank’s endless warnings.

He shook his head with a disappointed sigh. “I don’t know, man. They’ve been screwing your brother all tour.”

“Yeah, but Mikey said they’re not exclusive,” Gerard defended.

Frank’s eyes nearly popped out, barely evading whiplash as he turned to face Gerard. “You told Mikey?”

For as smart as his friend was, he seemed to lack a great deal of common sense. You don’t tell people that you want to sleep with their partners–or fuck buddies, or whatever the hell you were. Especially not Mikey, who was one of the worst secret keepers in the world.

Gerard groaned, “He knew the minute I asked. Maybe before then, too. You know how observant he is.”

“You can’t just tell people–” Frank started, though he cut himself off with another sigh when he saw Gerard’s pathetic expression. “It’s just… It’s not worth the headache, alright?”

“From the way Mikey describes them, I think you might be wrong.”

There was really no fighting this, was there?

He knew Gerard hadn’t gotten laid in a couple months. Not only had he broken up with his girlfriend, but he hadn’t slept with anyone on tour, either. Gerard was horny and desperate and had heard way too many stories from Mikey, landing him in this pitiful situation.

“There’s no one else you can sleep with?” Frank asked.

Surprisingly self-assured, Gerard shook his head. “Nope.”

Hopeless, Frank glanced back to the scene below him. Mikey was laughing at something you’d said before you shooed him off, watching him fondly as he darted out of the room. Great. He didn’t have to turn his head to know Gerard was staring at him, waiting for permission to make a move. Sighing, Frank took a long sip of his drink, counting his blessings and thanking God he was married.

“Go get ‘em, tiger.”

An amused smile crept up on Gerard’s face, jostling his friend before heading down the stairs. His heart was pounding, weaving through strangers as he searched for you in the crowd. Insecurity and anxiety swarmed his head, and he began to consider quitting before it was too late. He wanted to prove Frank wrong though–he wanted you. Besides, he couldn’t run now, watching you turn to face him from a few feet away.

“Gerard!” you smiled, stepping closer to hear him over the music.

He couldn’t fight a grin, greeting you with the same energy. “Where’d Mikey run off to?”

“He said he was going to the bathroom, but you know he’ll get distracted on his way out.”

Knowing his brother, he had a good fifteen minutes before his return. This was his opportunity, trying to calm his nerves as you looked at him with hopeful eyes.

“Don’t worry about him,” he said sweetly. “I can keep you company.”

Small talk flowed easily as the minutes ticked by, your enthusiasm contagious as Gerard blushed and laughed softly throughout your tour stories. The room had steadily gotten louder, booming speakers and obnoxious chatter drowning out your conversation until you were less than a foot away. He only realized it after you had gone quiet, staring at him with wide eyes.

His breathing stalled, and he swallowed hard as his eyes flitted from yours to the people around him. You were giving him that look again–the one that pleaded for him to touch you, an open invitation to make a move. Even if he wanted to, he was frozen in place, lips parting to speak but nothing came out.

You leaned a bit closer, trying not to smile as you spoke. “You know, Mikey told me something interesting last week.”

Fuck. Gerard could already feel himself burning with embarrassment, already fearing your next sentence. He knew exactly where this was going, and for the first time ever, he wanted to throttle his little brother. Fumbling for words, he managed to mumble, “He did?”

“Mhm,” you hummed. “Gerard, why’d you come to the club with us?”

As if it would do him any favors, he pinned it on his friends. “Everyone else was coming.”

You were obviously skeptical, resting your palms on his chest, feeling his heart race through his t-shirt. He felt lightheaded as you touched him, watching your hands glide across his shoulders and arms snake around his neck.

“No other reason?”

His tongue darted out briefly, wetting his lips as he stared at yours, cursing his nerves and shaky hands. The room was so fucking tense, and as he let out a breath, he spoke the words you’d been waiting to hear.

“I wanted to see you.”

Before he could overthink his confession, you had pressed your lips to his in a fleeting kiss. Gerard blinked back at you when you pulled away, his hands still hanging awkwardly by his sides. His expression bordered on unreadable, his features painted with a mix of shock and nervousness. You considered stepping back, worrying that you’d come on too strong, but his lips were back on yours before you could apologize.

Despite being unsure at first, he eased up quickly, letting his hands gravitate towards your hips. The room seemed to pause as he touched you, fingers hooking around your belt loops to pull you closer. It was gentle but sudden, a soft gasp parting your lips. Gerard stifled a smile, satisfied as his tongue swept across them, reveling in your desperation. With your hand pressed to the nape of his neck, you brought him closer, fingers catching in his hair. On a whim, you gave a brief tug, your stomach doing somersaults at his reaction.

The moan that ripped from his throat was nothing short of wanton, a cross between pleasure and need as you broke apart. His head tipped back for a second, eyes screwed shut and his neck exposed. You took it as an opportunity, scraping your teeth against his skin and soothing it with your tongue.

“You know,” you breathed, nipping below his ear. “Mikey’s into that, too. Likes me to pull his hair when we fuck, mark him up real pretty.”

Gerard didn’t need to know that, but he couldn’t help but picture being in his brother’s place. His name in your mouth, your hands across his back, leaving little crescents for him to find the next morning. He swallowed hard, nearly groaning as he spoke. “God, you can’t say that.”

You pushed his head back down, fingers still threaded through his hair. Your breath fanned across his lips, so close to his, although you had no intentions of kissing him yet.

“That I’ve slept with Mikey?” you asked, as if you knew it turned him on. “Why?”

“Because he’s my brother.”

He said it sheepishly, not offended or uncomfortable, simply using it as a pointless defense. Truthfully, he didn’t care what Mikey got up to—he probably knew most of it, anyway. Hearing you say it sent him reeling though, flustered by your shamelessness.

“Because you want me too, don’t you?” you teased, giving him a featherlight kiss.

Of course he did. You saw right through him, your lips turning up in a faint smile when you caught him. After a moment, he gave in. “Mhm, how’d you guess?”

Gerard felt like he was on fire, slotting his lips against yours again, ignoring the way he burned with passion and embarrassment. You could almost feel the anxiety radiating off of him, hands shifting to cradle his face as your tongue glided against his. He still tasted like his soda from the bar, lips artificially sweet with the faintest flavor of cola. You didn’t mind, nipping at them gently, drawing a whiny moan from him.

To his surprise—and humiliation—you weren’t the only one to hear it. A light hand pressed against your lower back, causing you to stir. Gerard noticed, his lashes fluttering open when you pulled away. Mikey stood behind you, and Gerard retracted his hands from your hips immediately, eyes swimming with guilt.

Mikey seemed unfazed, instead flashing his brother a smug grin. “I told you they were good with their mouth.”

Gerard couldn’t help but laugh, flushing as he tried to think of a response. This whole situation was so bizarre, and his train of thought completely derailed when you reached for his hand. His eyes flicked towards Mikey, who simply nodded towards you in permission.

One of his palms rested on your cheek, holding you close as he kissed you with a newfound fervor. Now, he wanted to show off, knowing that you had an audience. Mikey positioned himself behind you, his strong arms around your waist while his teeth grazed the crook of your neck.

Smoothly, his fingers drifted to your jaw, pulling you away from Gerard to press his lips to yours instead. He kissed you so sensually, slow and deep while his brother watched intently from a foot away. It made you dizzy, stomach fluttering at the sweep of his tongue, eliciting a moan that had Gerard stiffening in his jeans. It was all weirdly hot, and you seriously needed to go somewhere more private.

Mikey seemed to read your mind, drawing back and locking eyes with Gerard. You could’ve sworn they had telepathy, leaving you confused and completely out of the loop during their silent exchange.

“We’re at the hotel tonight,” Gerard said, and Mikey gave you a delicate push toward him.

He looked at you with a burning desire, bottom lip caught between his teeth as he gave you a once-over. Gently, his fingers slipped beneath your chin, his thumb stroking your cheek. “Think you can handle both of us?”

—

The moment the door shut, you were back in Mikey’s arms, having rushed down the hotel hall with his arm around your waist. Gerard’s hand was still in yours, giving you a light squeeze before letting go, turning to lock the door while Mikey kissed you in the middle of the room. His hands were already drifting beneath your shirt, his touch rising higher as his thumbs stroked your skin.

“No bra?” he asked, beaming as you tugged at the hem of his tee.

You rolled your eyes jokingly, giving an out-of-breath answer. “It’s August.”

He laughed lightly, part of him wishing that it could always be August. Sliding your hands further up his chest, you let him steal a few more kisses before mumbling softly.

“Off.”

Compliant, he pulled away, letting his brother take over while he stripped off his shirt. Gerard pressed himself against your back and rucked up your top as well, hardly waiting for it to hit the ground before his lips were ghosting your neck. Your head fell back against his shoulder, moaning lightly as he gave you a playful bite.

“You know how long I’ve waited for this?” he asked. “Mikey, tell them.”

Mikey stepped forward again, kissing you briefly before answering. “Weeks, baby. I’d come back after shows, and he’d ask where I’d been,” he said, pausing as his lips brushed against yours. “He wanted me to tell him how pretty you sound when you’re begging for it.”

The sweet sound that left your mouth was swiftly muffled by Mikey, kissing you heatedly while his fingers traced your waistband. If that weren’t enough, Gerard’s hands were climbing higher, tracing your curves with a contrasting tenderness. Familiar wetness was growing between your thighs, and it seemed to increase tenfold when he sucked a soft bruise into your skin. As if he could sense it, he mouthed below your ear, pricking your neck with his teeth.

“Gonna let us take care of you?” he questioned breathily, rolling your nipples beneath his thumbs.

You mewled softly and incidentally ground against his hard-on, squirming further as he let out a groan. His eyes drew shut, planting a kiss at the top of your jaw while Mikey popped the button on your jeans, reluctantly pulling back to let you undress. You almost whined at his absence, lashes fluttering when Mikey pulled away with a final tug to your lower lip, mimicking Gerard’s behavior. Two more pairs of jeans joined yours on the floor, and Gerard gave you an eager spank as you climbed onto the mattress.

“Cute panties,” he teased, studying your form as you propped yourself up on your elbows. “Nice of you to dress for the occasion.”

Mikey huffed a laugh, and you glanced down to see Gerard between your legs. Sure enough, you were donning black lace, and your stomach fluttered at the sight. They barely covered you, mostly mesh with intricate designs stitched on, and Gerard was more than happy about it.

Briefly, your gaze met his, catching the predatory glint in his eyes. Your teeth sunk into your bottom lip, eyes half-lidded as you stared at him. “Picked ‘em out just for you,” you said, shifting closer to him.

He grinned, bending your knees and smoothing his hands over your thighs. “You’re just the sweetest little thing, aren’t you?”

You hummed, beaming as your head dropped back against the pillows. “That’s what they tell me.”

Amused, Mikey settled beside you, resuming his brother’s work from earlier as his fingers dragged along your chest. You ran a hand through his hair, grip tightening with a shaky gasp as Gerard’s tongue glided up your clothed slit. It was only to rile you up, proven as his lips trailed towards your thighs instead. His hands were warm against you, running smoothly across your legs in mild wonder. Part of him was still shocked that this was real—that you were truly in his hotel room, eyes screwed shut as he scattered kisses across your skin. Every move he made had you buzzing, desperate for contact as his mouth inched closer to your cunt.

Eager, you made a gentle shift towards him, arching slightly as Mikey’s tongue flicked against you. Gerard spared you a sly glance, fingers tugging at your waistband before he spoke. “Someone’s excited.”

You began to retort, but the words spun into a soft gasp when Mikey tweaked one of your nipples. His timing was absolutely intentional, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care, relishing in the warmth of his tongue as it swirled against you. With excessive effort, you managed to collect yourself, taking a weak breath and shooting back, “Someone’s a tease.”

“Maybe,” Gerard agreed, dropping your panties onto the pile of discarded clothes. “But I’ll make it up to you.”

You almost missed his promise, already losing your comprehension skills as his brother redirected your attention. From your first night with Mikey, you knew he was good with his mouth, and he certainly knew what he was doing now. He already knew what made you tick, and he used Gerard to his advantage. It seemed that any time you gave the older one attention, Mikey’s mouth was back on you, more out of amusement than envy. If you thought for even a moment that you could lift your head and watch Gerard, he’d catch your nipple between his teeth, just light enough for your eyes to fall shut, giving his hair a reflexive tug.

Cursing, you let your hand slide down to his cheek, pulling him from your chest for a moment. They were in mental cahoots, you swore to God, barely beginning to kiss Mikey before Gerard was flattening his tongue against you. Mikey hardly muffled it, fingers still at work while you moaned against his lips. Slowly, your free hand drifted down to Gerard, the other pressed against Mikey’s chest. Gerard gave a sweet hum as you ran your fingers through his hair, sucking a kiss to your clit in return.

A moan slipped past your lips, arching towards him while Mikey moved to kiss along your jaw. You could feel him smiling against your skin, nipping before mumbling praise in your ear. “You’re being so good for us, you know that?”

You nodded, pressing your head harder into the pillows as they double-teamed, a slew of erotic noises spilling into the air. Gerard pulled you closer, reveling in your touch as your hand smoothed through his hair. Much to your objection, he pulled away, fingers passing his lips before spreading you open. Briefly, you managed to lock eyes with him, watching as he gave a slow lick. He moaned against you, just loud enough to get a reaction.

“Taste so fuckin’ pretty, babe,” he praised, circling your clit with his thumb.

Mikey pressed his hand against your abdomen, shooting Gerard a smug look. “Told you so.”

With Mikey holding you down, you had nowhere left to go, beginning to writhe against the sheets in both pleasure and impatience. Gerard was taking his time, truly savoring everything you had to offer, staring up at you with his pretty hazel eyes as if he wouldn’t be the death of you. Without Mikey’s kisses or lips against your skin, you really zoned in on Gerard—the way his hands hugged your thighs, his tongue like velvet as lapped up your arousal. You couldn’t seem to get enough, desperately pulling his hair in a fruitless search for friction.

He groaned at the sensation, soft but audible as you tried to grind against him, turning his slow motions into sloppy ones; not that he could complain really, having to restrain himself from rutting against the mattress when you were moaning like that. Still, you craved more, and it didn’t take Mikey long to figure out what you wanted. He shot you a look, sly and plotting as his hand drifted from your stomach to your thigh, swiftly replacing his brother’s. Gerard eyed him curiously, humming in question before pulling back, the vibration sending you reeling. You caught a quick glimpse of him, lips and chin slick with arousal, and the ache between your legs only grew stronger.

Gerard couldn’t have been idle for more than a few seconds, but it felt like a fucking eternity as you squirmed in place. Mikey’s grip tightened in warning, although his eyes stayed trained on his brother as he spoke.

“Use your hands.”

A smile flashed across Gerard’s face, watching your teeth dig into your lower lip at the suggestion. He went easy at first, running his fingers across your folds and gently rubbing your clit. The teasing was back, and he showed no mercy this time, lust and pride flooding his veins when you gave an impatient whine.

“Don’t worry, I’m not stopping,” he assured you, voice sweet as he popped his fingers back into his mouth.

The two of them noticed everything—your erratic breathing, the delicate shift of your hips, and the desperate glint in your eyes as you waited for Gerard to move. They glanced at each other and Mikey nodded in your direction, gaze falling between your thighs, swallowing thickly as he watched Gerard’s fingers.

You were practically bursting with gratitude as you took the first one, quickly retracting your hands from the pair to clutch the sheets. Gerard hadn’t realized you needed it that bad, almost laughing at how sweet and pathetic it was. The urge to taunt you was strong, curling his finger at a steady pace and studying your expression.

“Aw,” he mocked, biting his lip as you clenched around him. “You just want to be filled up, don’t you?”

Nodding, you squeezed your eyes shut, forcing a response despite being nearly incapable of speaking. “Yeah,” you breathed, interrupted with a shaky gasp. “Just want you inside me.”

Gerard could’ve come at that, cursing softly before speaking up. “I know, babe. Mikey and I are gonna take care of you first, and then I’ll fuck you. How’s that sound?”

Even if the words were vulgar, they sounded so chaste coming from him. He spoke gently, making you feel warm all over again, arousal stirring inside of you. His mouth was back on you soon enough, sucking on your clit and adding another finger, working for every sound you made. Warmth quickly spun into heat, rising to your cheeks and spreading across your heaving chest, short breaths escaping your lips in bursts. You were close, muscles going taut while Gerard's fingers crooked quicker, moaning as his tongue flicked at a similar pace.

Mikey was mesmerized, his stare flitting between your contorted features and the sheer determination in his brother’s eyes. Each time Gerard moved, Mikey could see his fingers, buried inside of you as you all but screamed his name. He could feel himself blushing, painfully hard as he watched you take it so well, tracing your arched figure.

“You like Gerard’s mouth, don’t you?” he asked rhetorically, rubbing circles on your thigh. Another whine rolled off your tongue, followed by a frantic nod. “Tell him how much you love it.”

Mikey was going to Hell. Absolutely. Damn him and his stupid, arrogant grin, prompting you to speak when he knew you could barely string words together. Gerard would’ve been laughing if he weren’t using his mouth, laser-focused on making you come. Still, his lips turned up, noticeable for a split second before getting back to work. If your fingers hadn't been digging into the comforter, you might’ve knocked Mikey off the bed, but you felt like you’d sink into the floorboards without something to ground you. Even though you were tempted to ignore him, he squeezed your thigh expectantly, resulting in a very pathetic attempt to speak.

“Fuck, Gerard,” you slurred, mouth falling open as he hummed curiously. “You’re so fucking good, please don’t stop, please.”

The praise made him shiver, and he made a mental note to thank Mikey for prompting you later. You were a wreck in the best way possible, vocal and blissed out, pleading with them until the pressure ceased. Gerard didn’t pull away at first, only slowing down while Mikey returned to your side, purring praise and stroking your cheek. You could barely understand what he was saying, panting and staring up at him starry-eyed. He cracked a smile, warm and genuine when you took his hand in yours, kissing his palm and intertwining your fingers.

Gerard shifted up the bed, wiping his mouth on his shirt and tugging it off before settling on his knees. His lips met yours, kissing you with his typical tenderness while you cupped his cheek softly. He got a good look at you after pulling away, really taking in the sight before him.

“God, you’re so beautiful,” he murmured, smoothing his hand over your stomach.

His touch made you feel fuzzy, despite how your mind was beginning to sharpen. Mikey held your hand a little tighter, tilting your chin to kiss you, becoming all too aware of his erection. Honestly, he felt like his dick was going to fall off if it went ignored any longer.

Gerard was in a similar boat, his eyes softening when you pulled away from Mikey and sat up straight. You looked at him expectantly, receiving a half smile and another fleeting kiss, Gerard resting his forehead against yours after.

“Can I fuck you, pretty baby?” he asked, turning obscenities into something holy with his honeyed tone. “You wanna let Mikey use your mouth?”

How his curses sounded saccharine was beyond you, but it still had your heart racing, squeezing Mikey’s hand with a nod. Mikey pressed a kiss to your head, nearly sighing in relief as he tugged off his boxers and kneeled beside you. Delicately, your fingers danced along Gerard’s waistband, thumbs stroking his hips while he held the back of your head. “Go ahead,” he said, swallowing hard as you stripped him.

He was heavy in your hand, a light shiver wracking through him when you took him in your fist. ”Jesus,” you murmured, the pair almost laughing as you stared at Gerard in awe.

You could feel yourself growing hot, breath catching in your throat before your tongue darted out. Mikey’s hand was still in yours, gently guiding it towards his cock, his eyes fluttering shut as you stroked him. Staring up at Gerard, you leaned forward and pressed your tongue against him, studying his reaction and taking him into your mouth. It didn’t last long, but it was enough time for you to learn how sensitive he was. Wetness grew between your thighs when he moaned, watching his head loll back as you took him deeper.

His eyes fluttered open, glancing from his brother’s concentrated expression to your thighs rubbing together. As good as your mouth felt, he wanted to be in you, and you seemed to want it too.

“Hey, c’mere,” he spoke softly, reluctantly pulling you off.

Saliva spread itself across your lips, and a whine crept up your throat at the sudden emptiness. It took all of his willpower not to give in, but he knew it would be worth it for everyone. After a bit of awkward shuffling, he positioned you in the middle of the mattress, facing Mikey at the headboard while Gerard kneeled behind you. The two of them made eye contact for a moment, holding back a laugh at the absurdity of the situation. Their attention drew back to you though, Gerard pushing you onto all fours and giving himself quite the view.

Slowly, he eased in, hands smoothing over your ass while you gasped around Mikey. Gerard took a shaky breath, moaning at the feeling of wet heat. Christ, you were tight, squeezing his cock as he sunk inside, already trying to rock back against him.

“Shit, Mikes,” Gerard sighed, listening to you mewl and gag around Mikey. “When was the last time you fucked them?”

Mikey rolled his eyes, quick to fire back. “Last night in your bunk.”

Gerard snickered, slowly thrusting in again. Every time he moved, it rocked you against Mikey, whose hand cradled the back of your head and pushed you down further. Maybe it was a little slutty, but being used by the brothers had arousal coursing through you, desperate as ever for a rough fuck. Mikey already knew, giving a few thrusts into your mouth while Gerard set a pace, moaning as your eyes watered.

“Fuck ‘em harder,” he told Gerard, who was still trying to go easy. “They can take it, I promise.”

“Is that what you want?” Gerard asked, earning a soft mhm in response.

God, he had never been this hard in his life. You were still trying to grind against him, searching for anything to soothe the ache, and Gerard was in heaven. He pulled out almost completely and roughly snapped his hips against yours, biting his lip hard enough to bleed when a loud cry tore from your throat. Mikey looked so pleased with himself, panting as sweat clung to his hairline, his hips bucking until your nose brushed against his abdomen.

“That’s it, baby, take it all,” he cooed, caressing your cheek before pulling his hips back.

You were a mess, pulling off to breathe while Gerard pounded into you with much more ferocity. Mikey held his cock in his hand, jerking it slowly before sliding past your lips again, smearing them with saliva and precum. It was all fucking filthy, from his low moans to the way he pushed your head down, forcing you to be humiliatingly sloppy, making such a mess on his cock. Not to mention how his brother was filling you up, reveling in your warmth, and memorizing how it felt to be buried inside of you.

Mikey always got loud before coming; even if he tried to stifle his moans, you never failed to notice them. His chest rose and fell at a rapid rate, mouth falling open as you sped up, only to groan weakly when you pulled away. Instead, you let him fuck your fist, sucking a bruise below his hip.

“Fuck, Mikey,” you whined, scraping your teeth against his thigh just to hear him moan. “Gonna come for me?”

He gave a soft hum, cock twitching as you took him back in your mouth, pumping your fist a few more times before he came down your throat. Gerard couldn’t tear his eyes away, catching the look of bliss on Mikey’s face, slack-jawed and pupils blown while you stuck your tongue out with pride. Your hand kept moving even after Mikey had come, stroking him until he slumped against the headboard, admiring you with contrasting chastity.

The same pressure from earlier had begun to build, leaving you sensitive and desperate as Gerard’s merciless rhythm continued. It was almost embarrassing how needy you sounded, dropping your head against the mattress while he pulled your hips against his, moaning and panting behind you. Every whimper and cry went straight to his cock, and Gerard was growing closer by the second. He could feel it, his head spinning and muscles beginning to stiffen, bottoming out while you clenched around him.

“You’re doing so well,” he said, his voice far softer than the snap of his hips. “Can you come for me?”

His stomach fucking fluttered as you let out one of the most pornographic sounds he’d ever heard, moaning and pleading with him to keep going while he pounded you into the mattress. Your whole body tensed, gripping the sheets in one hand while Mikey held the other.

“I’m not gonna stop,” Gerard assured you. “I’ve got you.”

It didn’t take much more than his praise and consolation for you to succumb to your release, warmth rippling through you once more. Gerard gave a few more thrusts before pulling out, cock twitching in his hand as he finished himself off. Stuck in a blissful stupor, you could hardly comprehend their praise, more focused on coming to your senses. You felt heavy, watching Mikey pull his boxers back on while Gerard disappeared into the bathroom. Mikey petted your head gently and you blinked up at him bleary-eyed, letting out a light sigh as a warm washcloth brushed across your skin.

He pulled you into his lap once Gerard had finished cleaning up, burying his head into the crook of your neck. “You’re perfect,” he mumbled, peppering kisses on your shoulder.

You laughed quietly and leaned into his touch, watching Gerard redress and flick off the lights before climbing under the covers. You and Mikey joined him, sharing a few kisses and affectionate murmurs. Eventually, your breathing took on an even pattern, Mikey’s shifting came to a stop, and Gerard’s eyelids grew heavy. Before he could fall asleep though, Gerard took his phone from the nightstand, sending a quick text.

To: Frank worth it.

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