#and i know there’s the argument that maybe he just wasn’t accepted for other jobs

[kaislvves]

IN WHICH; you and kaiser get into an argument over a stupid reason which leads into a hard launch after his match.

a/n: do NAWT speak to me about how unrealistic the last scenes are. i KNOWW how crazy fans can be and they’d probably be mauling/trampling you guys to death😭 also say no to telling me to put my ear to your mouth and listen what you have to say (kaz ref…) only to tell me this is ooc leave me alone pls. & not proofread lolz

cw: swearing, arguments -> making up, my writing

“i could stay for tonight.”

it was sickening coming from your tongue because kaiser knew he didn’t want you only for tonight. he’s coming close to crushing you with how hard he’s squeezing your body like he never wants you to leave.

“just for tonight?” is a question he poses. the air around you two remains silent and it angers him—are you thinking about an answer? for there is no other answer than accepting defeat and staying in his arms, forever.

you try squirming around to wiggle your way out of his hold because it was getting warmer than you’d like it to be. “yes, micha. just for tonight.” you start whining at this point but he does not budge no matter how hard you try. he’s only growing more irritated by your response paired up with the nickname you call him to be affectionate.

affectionate his ass—you’re basically admitting you hate him. as much as he loves being seen as an enemy in others’ eyes, he hates when you perceive him in such a manner. “don’t call me micha.” his huffing out and you can feel the vibrations in his chest

“okay mr. football prodigy.” your tease is muffled by his chest. in most situations, he’d take it as a compliment to feed his ego but he knows you’re deliberately trying to egg him on. and though he currently can’t see your face because of the position you guys are in, he swears he can feel your eyes rolling at him.

“i still have a life… and a job.” now it’s your turn to get fed up by his behavior. “am i not your life?” he’s sounding like you genuinely just offended his whole bloodline and hell, maybe even very distant ancestors. you want to say he’s joking but judging by experience, he most certainly isn’t.

one thing you understood when you first started dating him was that he would not give up his career for you and using the same logic, you didn’t have to either. now can some mind reader tell you why this is happening? why is he being so stubborn about this in particular? not like kaiser isn’t dramatic or stubborn most of the time but he’s never been this stubborn over a matter like this.

“michael that’s not… i just—i can’t just give everything up for you.” oh, now you’re calling him by his full first name? perhaps that wasn’t the best way to word it because you feel grip shifting to the back of your head to keep it in place, he does this because he doesn’t want you seeing his face. “why not?” he barks a lot quieter than he normally does.

“what do you mean by ‘why not’? this has been my life, even before i met you.” you try holding in the scoff that you were trying so hard to avoid but it’s obvious now.

as if it wasn’t already tense but it feels like it bloomed into a raging silence. you believe he’s thinking of an answer but in reality, he isn’t. he’s thinking about anything else other than him opening his mouth because only the heavens know what words would spew out of his mouth if he were to—imagine how worse he’d make this petty argument.

you hate this.

you hate silence.

you hate him being silent.

and you make the dumb decision to add salt to the injury—the one thing kaiser didn’t want to do. “do you actually want to argue about this? if so, i’m not staying at all.” there you go, saying things you don’t actually mean. “do you mean that?” oh he actually responded. you did try to choose your words carefully but your mouth moves faster than your thoughts.

“and if i did?” you’re lying through your teeth, but he takes the bait.

that was what unlocked his vile mouth that should be censored on television after losing a match. “you really are annoying, you know that? i hope you didn’t because i didn’t know that either when i started liking you. or were you just leading me on? i don’t care if you aren’t staying anymore. just fucking leave.” he’s lacing his words with cyanide.

he’s second guessing his thoughts of wanting you to stay forever if you were just going to be acting like that. his grip on you is finally loosening and it’s easier to slide right past his arms. you take the chance and peak at his face. it wasn’t the look you want to see on him normally but it is justified in this situation. he has a scowl on his face but he still looks so pretty like this. he’s looking at you too, albeit not with the admiration you’re doing.

it isn’t the best idea to stay silent and so you don’t.

“fine then.” you say while walking away from him to head towards the entrance and like expected, he doesn’t follow you. you take the bag from the front-door rack and slip on the shoes he gifted you.

you spare no time opening the door, not even glancing back when you shut the door as well. kaiser is the one looking, glaring at the back of your head before you disappear behind his door. after he knows you’re off completely, he goes over to lock it shut but also ends up smelling the slight scent of your perfume floating in the air.

looks like you won’t be staying tonight anymore. and now that this happened, will you ever? did he want you to?

this argument could have been so minor if both of you had just sucked it up.

were you still together? it didn’t end in clear closure, just him telling you to leave and you did.

did you still want this? did he still want this?

in all honesty, he just wants you. no matter what form, no matter what, he still wants to say he knows you. it didn’t have to be this way.

safe to say neither of you had good sleep that night.

kaiser has many ways to express his aggression. be it words, physical contact (past), or what he’s doing right now—football. he hasn’t contacted you ever since that day and you haven’t either. makes him question what he still is to you.

why does he care? if you don’t want to talk to him, neither do you. if you hate him, he hates you.

however, whenever he does take his anger out of the field, he dominates it. effectively becoming the king of the field. from the get-go it was obvious bastard munchen would win the match against some other team they were playing against.

you could tell too, setting aside the fact you were sitting pretty far from the game. what made you want to watch the match even if you thought he was probably your ex already? you didn’t know. it’s like you just gravitate towards the stupid rat tails man, he’s an annoying magnet to you now.

and like everyone betted on, bastard munchen did win.

the team immediately celebrates by huddling together, slapping each-others hands, carrying each-other, and what not? you unconsciously smile at the scene, it was small, you could still feel it but you couldn’t help it.

kaiser is celebrating with his team, being somehow lifted on-top of ness’ shoulders (which he is really annoyed at and he’s wondering how the fuck he’s doing that, what is wrong with him?). he ultimately scored the last goal they needed to win. it wasn’t a surprise because when he plays, he wants to—needs to—win.

despite that, his teammates couldn’t help but realize his anger, leading to yoichi asking him a question that makes kaiser want to choke the black-haired man on the spot.

“the hell was that?” he asks (referring the stupidly impossible goal kaiser was able to score, but you know… he doesn’t believe anything is impossible.) “i have a question for you too, yoichi. what the hell is that kind of question?” he’s laughing out, still on ness’ shoulders. but he’s laughing so hard his whole body starts to shake, making ness stumble a little.

still, yoichi was able to tell something was off.

“uh… what’s gotten your panties in a twist?”

but before kaiser could answer that with going off on him, he’s being pulled into an interview.

what made that goal possible?

“it was never impossible.”

what do you feel after winning?

“as if we weren’t going to win.”

boring questions he didn’t want to answer but he was obligated to—for he was basically the star of the show, like always. that was until a certain question was asked that made him look around the stadium for the first time.

that was quite an impressive goal.

“of course.”

is there anyone you wanted to watch that shot?

he’s silent. he’s thinking of you as he gazes around the bleachers—embarrassingly thinking everyone has your face and accidentally making eye contact with crazy fans that go berserk when he does. the only reason he never looked before and during the match was because you wouldn’t be there.

what a desperate reason, right? row after row, he’s scanning every seat, even the ones that are empty and imagining you’re the one sitting in it. 3rd to the top row, he scanning and not expecting to see you.

the fuck? is that you?

is he looking at you? kaiser is looking in your direction and in the area you’re seated but you’re so high up you can’t tell and it’s very unlikely he is but he keeps staring. you’re awkwardly looking away and around your section to hide your face.

oh but he’s already gotten a look of the face he so desperately wanted to see and he’s not going to look away, nor will he stand in one place. like a lunatic who just escaped some mental hospital, he’s booking it from the interviewer who stands shocked.

oh ok... he totally saw you which defeats the total point of you sitting so far away, was he lying to you when he said his eyesight wasn’t the best? probably. anyway, that was your sign to also walk away.

screams of fans were deafening and you felt like your eardrums were going to burst anyway.

who cursed you? because it was such a coincidence that kaiser comes out the way you were going to exit. he didn’t count how many fans who were asking all sorts of things he ran past to get to you.

as soon as you saw his face, you tried playing it off cool and spun the other way to walk away but he was by no means dumb and he saw you do that. he clicked his tongue in annoyance.

it felt like when you ask your friends to chase you and they actually do and now you’re screaming your lungs out trying to outrun them. obviously it was futile because he was so much faster than you.

no words could explain how fucking loud the crowd was, first when he ran, second when he entered the spectator area, last (hopefully) when he hugged you tightly from behind, stopping you from running.

like that night, he was warmer than you’d like him to be. arms wrapped around your waist and his chin on your shoulder. “are you running away again?” he’s whispering into your ear and despite the crowd + the booming voices around you… ++ the paparazzi basically stomping on people to get a photo, he’s unbelievably close to your ear, you have no trouble in hearing him.

“kaiser.” you breathe out in the same shock the interviewer was probably in. “don’t call me that. answer my question.” he huffs—he hasn’t heard you call him that in for like… forever! (unless you count other arguments)

“should i want to run away?”

“i don’t want you to.”

the grip is getting tighter and it slightly stops you from breathing for a second. you don’t want to run away, you don’t hate him.

you were thinking the same as him, whether or whether not he still considered you his. but you know his ego is way too high for his own good so you do him a favor and ask him instead.

“are we still something?” you ask and it hurts him that you do—did you not think that anymore? his eye is twitching with uncertain emotions. “…tell me your answer first.” there’s hurt evident in his voice because he doesn’t want to jump into conclusions and hurt his ego even more than he already has fighting for his way to get to you.

“i don’t know, are we?” he’d flick your forehead with full power if he wasn’t trying to make up with you. it’s barely audible but you hear “i still want this.” a frown is on your face and he took it as a bad sign.

“i do too, micha.” you admit, he’s spiraling by how you say his name.

as much as he wants to say that he did want you to stay with him forever, that he didn’t want you to leave him, that he doesn’t actually find you annoying, that he loves you. he decides on doing only the second and last option because he’s kept himself, you, and the fans waiting far too long.

(you also wanted to say you didn’t mean it.)

he’s spinning you around to face him.

“don’t leave me, ever.”

he holds your hands in his, leaning forward to kiss you.

and though you guys still have so much to apologize, discuss, and everything in between… you both would rather leave that for a private matter. just stay in this moment, in his arms for now? if not forever.

oh and now you hoped this was the last time the crowd got as rowdy as it was.

GERMAN FOOTBALL PRODIGY; MICHAEL KAISER AND HIS SUPPOSED PARTNER MAKE IT PUBLIC! WHO IS THE LUCKY PERSON? EVERYTHING WE KNOW RIGHT NOW…

locknessmonster : bro wtf

[acrossfromladystardust]

i thought this was generally agreed on by now but apparently not:

sirius was more naturally smart, remus was more passionate about learning

[joemama-2]

velvet lies

pairing: gojo x fem reader synopsis: crippling debt and possible evictions have ruined you. working two jobs with no downtime, and a five-year-old son, you really don't know the meaning of taking a break. after continuous questions about his father, you have decided to finally let your son meet his dad. only thing is, he has no idea said son exists. and to top it off, you have not a single clue about what kinds of things will transpire from this sudden revelation. wc: 10.2k DON'T FORGET TO READ PREVIOUS CHAPTER tags/warnings: 18+ MDNI, smut, fluff, romance, alcohol, classism, mom! reader, lying, abuse, MAJOR angst, slow burn, exes to lovers, (mentions of) cheating, scandals, death, blood, drugs, drama, family drama, miscommunication, blackmail, unhealthy coping mechanisms , depression, manipulation series masterlist < previous chapter< next chapter

“You’re not serious.”

“Himari, please let’s not fight. I said I’d spend the 26th with you.”

“That doesn’t matter!”

She huffs, watching her boyfriend get his shower ready to go out and spend the day with another woman. Bitterness swirls in her stomach, anger threatening to be released if she wasn’t digging her nails into her palms. “You’re spending Christmas with some random bitch and a snot-nosed kid. How do you think that makes me fe—”

“Be quiet.” Satoru says, turning around to face her with a firm frown set in place. “I’ll tolerate you insulting me but don’t disrespect them, especially Koji.”

Himari freezes, her words catching in her throat as she registers the sharpness in Satoru’s voice. His usual laidback tone is gone, replaced with a seriousness that sends a chill down her spine. Her eyes narrow, but there’s a flicker of uncertainty in her expression.  “Disrespect them?” she repeats, her voice tinged with disbelief. “Are you even listening to yourself? You’re choosing them over me, Satoru. On Christmas. What am I supposed to think?”  

“You’re supposed to understand,” he replies, his tone softening but remaining firm. “Koji is my son. I’ve already missed enough of his life—I’m not going to miss any more.”  

“And what about me? What about us?” Himari snaps, stepping closer to him. “We’ve been together for almost two years, and I’ve only just now found out about all this shit. How do you think that makes me feel? Like an afterthought? Like you don’t trust me?”  

Satoru exhales slowly, pinching the bridge of his nose. He knows she has a point, but he also knows this argument isn’t going anywhere productive. “Himari, this isn’t about trust. It’s about priorities. Koji needs me, and I’m not going to let him down. Not ever. I just need you to understand that, that’s all.”  

“And what about my needs?” she presses, her voice breaking slightly. “Am I just supposed to sit here and wait for you to decide when I’m important enough to make time for?”  

“You’re important to me,” Satoru says, his gaze meeting hers. “But Koji will always come first. That’s not going to change, Himari. If you can’t accept that…” He trails off, letting the weight of his words hang in the air.  

Himari’s jaw tightens, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. “You’re unbelievable, you know that? You waltz into my life with all your charm and promises, and now you’re telling me I have to share you with some other family? What kind of relationship is this supposed to be? I did not sign up to be a fucking step-mother.”

Satoru steps closer, his expression softening slightly. “It’s the kind where I’m trying to do right by my son while still being with you. But I can’t do this if you’re going to make me choose.”  

She stares at him, her chest rising and falling with uneven breaths. “Maybe you already have,” she whispers before turning on her heel and storming out of the bathroom.  

Satoru watches her leave, a heaviness settling in his chest. He doesn’t chase after her, instead turning back to the shower and letting the water run. For a moment, he just stands there, the steam fogging the mirror and blurring his reflection.  

He’s made his choice, and he doesn’t regret it. But he knows the fallout isn’t over yet. He sighs as he steps in, closing the glass door. She’ll come around in a few hours when she’s all settled down, that’s how it always is—so he won’t dwell over it. Besides, he has more pressing matters to take into account. 

Hearing the shower run in the bathroom, Himari has stomped over to the bedroom. Hands fishing the sheets in order to feel for his phone. After some seconds, she finds it. Already knowing the password, she angrily unlocks it and begins swiping and surfing through every app of his. “If you’re cheating on me, Satoru. I swear to god.” She mutters to herself, scowling down at the screen. 

She doesn’t see anything, but she does click on his message with you. It all consists of just talks of the kid. 

Himari scrolls through the thread of messages, her scowl deepening as she reads. The exchanges are polite, straightforward, and almost entirely about your son—pickup times, school updates, doctor appointments. Nothing incriminating, nothing emotional. Just... parental coordination.  

But it still stings.  

Her grip tightens on the phone as her eyes skim over a message from a few days ago, the last message between you two:  

Y/N: 

Thank you for picking him up and the food.  

Satoru:

Of course, he’s my son. Just let me know if you need anything else.

Himari scoffs, tossing the phone onto the bed with a frustrated huff. “Let me know if you need anything else.” she repeats mockingly under her breath. "He’s bending over backward for her, and I’m just supposed to sit here like nothing’s wrong? Yeah fucking right.”  

She paces the room, her mind racing. No matter how innocent the texts look, she can’t shake the feeling of being replaced. It doesn’t matter that Satoru insists he’s doing this for his son—his attention is divided, and she’s no longer at the center of his world.  Her pacing comes to a halt as she glances back at the phone. A new idea begins to form, one she knows is petty but feels justified in her growing anger.  

"If he won’t make me a priority," she mutters, picking up the phone again, "then I’ll remind him of what he stands to lose."  

She opens the camera app and snaps a picture of herself, deliberately angling it to show her figure in the soft light of the bedroom. Attaching it to a blank text, she hovers over the send button.  But something stops her. A hesitation, a flicker of doubt. She’s never had to fight for Satoru’s attention before—he’s always made her feel like she was the only one that mattered.  

Until now.  

With a frustrated growl, she deletes the photo and tosses the phone back onto the bed. Crossing her arms, she glares at the bathroom door, the sound of the shower still running behind it.  

"If you want to play the perfect dad, fine," she mutters. "But don’t expect me to sit around and wait while you pretend I don’t exist." 

Sitting down onto the bed, another form of thought pops in her head. Yanking the phone back into her hands, she presses his photo album. There must be something in here. And so, she scours and scours, zooming in on every picture in fear you’ll be in the background. However, she doesn’t find anything. Only pictures of that little brat who looks like his mirrored version. “Because of you…” she grits, hand tightening around the phone. 

Continuing to scroll higher, she can tell she’s reaching earlier years. Still, the insecurity and fear plaguing her chest causes her to not stop—not until she gets to the very first photo in his album. Then she’ll for sure know he’s still hers. She’s in the year 2015, before she met Satoru. He looks younger, more boyish. She pushes down the endearing feelings she holds towards his younger self and scrolls up. 

Until, she comes across a video. 

The start of it has your face in it and she’s clicking. You’re sitting cross legged on the floor in some Christmas jammies, a Santa hat on your head with a big Christmas tree behind you. She can assume Satoru’s sitting across from you, hearing his voice say, “Okay, go!”

The entirety of the video is her holding back throwing his phone across the room. Seeing you two open each other's gifts, seeing you smile at her man, and seeing her man look at you holding the camera in such a soft way—a way she’s almost never experienced before. 

She’s getting nauseous. 

She almost throws up when she catches a glimpse of you two kissing, saying the words I love you so softly. She quickly clicks out and shuts the phone off when the sounds of low moaning fill the speakers. 

Why does he even still have this? Does he look back on this?

She wants to claw her eyes and ears out of her body. Feeling utterly infuriated at her boyfriend for keeping practically a sextape of his ex even after all these years. You fucking assume, Satoru! Himari sits on the edge of the bed, her arms folded tightly across her chest. Her mind is a storm of thoughts—jealousy, anger, and a pang of something else she refuses to name. Satoru’s insistence on prioritizing Koji and you feels like a betrayal, even if she knows deep down it’s not the same as him being unfaithful.  

Still, she can’t shake the bitterness creeping into her heart.  

She glances at his phone again, her jaw tightening. What does she have that I don’t? The question gnaws at her, even as she tries to shove it aside.  

When the sound of the shower cuts off, Himari straightens her posture, her eyes narrowing. A brewing begins to form—not a vengeful one, but one that will force Satoru to confront the rift growing between them.  Moments later, Satoru steps out of the bathroom, towel around his neck, his damp hair tousled and messy. He pauses when he sees her sitting there, her gaze piercing through him. “What’s with the look?” he asks, raising an eyebrow.  

She doesn’t answer right away, instead standing up and taking a slow step toward him. “Satoru,” she starts, her voice low but steady, “do you even realize how this feels for me? Watching you drop everything for her and that kid?”  

He sighs, already bracing himself for another argument. “Himari, we’ve been over this. Koji is my son. I have responsibilities—”  

“And what about your responsibilities to me?” she snaps, cutting him off. “I’m your girlfriend. I’ve been by your side for years. I’ve supported you, loved you, stood by you. But lately, it feels like I don’t even exist to you.”  

Satoru pinches the bridge of his nose, frustration etched into his features. “This isn’t about us, Himari. It’s about Koji. He’s my son. I missed years of his life because I didn’t even know he existed. I’m not going to waste more time by pretending he doesn’t matter.”  

“And I don’t matter?” she fires back, her voice rising. “That’s what you’re saying, right? That I come second to some kid you barely even know?”  

Satoru’s patience finally snaps. “He’s not some kid, Himari! He’s my blood, my responsibility. And if you can’t understand that, maybe you don’t belong in my life after all.”  

The words hang in the air like a slap. Himari stares at him, stunned into silence, her mouth opening and closing as she tries to process what he just said. Satoru doesn’t wait for her response. He grabs his phone from the bed, slipping it into his pocket, and heads toward the door. “I’ll be back later,” he says flatly. “Don’t wait up.”  

The door slams shut behind him, leaving Himari alone in the room, her anger boiling over into tears she refuses to let fall. In the silence, one thought echoes louder than the rest: 

I won’t let her win. You wanted me to teach you, right? Then I’ll teach you.

Satoru’s already not having a good day. He could put most of the blame on his girlfriend, the other on his parents for questioning why he’s spending the holiday with you instead, and also the fact that there’s traffic. 

Of course there’s traffic. 

It’s a good thing, almost. It gives him some time to himself. It lets him calm his annoyance, the last thing he wants to do is ruin the day for his son. He’s also a little nervous to see you. He hasn’t seen or texted you since your small argument last time, and while he does feel bad, the other part of him still believes that what he did wasn’t wrong. Hopefully—maybe today or another day—he can settle that issue with you truly. There’s a lot of things he needs to settle with you, actually. 

But just like they say one day at a time, one problem at a time. 

His finger taps absentmindedly against his steering wheel as he surges his car forward before stopping again. Sighing, he checks the time. Cutting it a little close. He turns the music up and leans back, sighing heavily. 

But the song on the radio is something upbeat, and it only serves to grate on his nerves. Satoru switches it off with a sharp jab of his finger. The silence that follows isn’t much better, though—it leaves too much room for his thoughts to wander again. 

He wonders if you’ll bring up the argument as soon as he arrives. You’re not one to let things fester, not when Koji’s around, but he knows you’ve probably been stewing on it, the way you always do when it involves him. The guilt creeps in again, and he brushes it off like a pesky fly. He’s good at that—pushing things aside until they’re too big to ignore. That’s why you two are in this mess in the first place, isn’t it?

Well, it’s surely part of it. 

The honk of a car behind him jolts him out of his thoughts. The traffic’s moving again, and Satoru presses on the gas, muttering a curse under his breath. He’s cutting it close, all right.

By the time he pulls up outside your place, his nerves are just frayed enough that he almost considers texting you to say he’s here instead of going to the door. But that feels… cowardly. He’s Satoru Gojo, for crying out loud. He can face you.

He steps out of the car, walking into the complex and up to your apartment. When he knocks on the door, it takes a moment before he hears the faint sound of footsteps approaching. The door swings open, and there you are, looking… tired. But not unhappy to see him, which is something. Adorned in an apron too, how cute. 

“Hey,” you say, your voice softer than he expected.

“Hey,” he replies, trying for a smile that doesn’t feel forced. “Traffic was a nightmare.”

You nod, stepping aside to let him in. The warmth of your home envelops him immediately, and the faint sound of Koji’s laughter from the other room eases some of the tension in his chest.

“How’s he doing?” Satoru asks, his voice low as he glances toward the sound.

“He’s excited. Been asking about you all morning,” you say, crossing your arms but not looking at him directly.

Satoru shifts on his feet, his fingers tightening around the handle of the gift bag. “Yeah, well… I’m here now.”

You look at him then, your expression unreadable. “Yeah. You are.”

There’s a moment of quiet before Koji comes barreling into the room, his face lighting up when he sees his dad. “Papa!”

Satoru smiles, scooping up his son with ease as he walks into the living room, settling down onto the couch. The smell of delicious food fills his senses, eyes closing momentarily with a heavenly sigh. “Smells good, what’s your mother making?”

Koji grins, his arms wrapped tightly around Satoru’s neck. “She’s making roast chicken and cookies!” he exclaims, his voice brimming with excitement. “And I helped with the cookies. But Mama said I ate too much of the dough.”  

Satoru chuckles, ruffling Koji’s hair. “Sounds about right. You’ve got a sweet tooth like your old man.”  

Koji’s giggle is infectious, and Satoru can’t help but feel a swell of warmth as he holds his son close. His gaze drifts toward the kitchen, where the faint sound of clinking dishes and soft humming filters through. For a moment, the tension from the past few days fades, replaced by the simple comfort of being here with his family.  

“You’re late,” your voice cuts through the air, light but pointed. You step into the living room, wiping your hands on a towel as you glance at him. He notices the small smudge of flour on your cheek, but there’s a softness in your expression that Satoru clings to.  His eyes move down your figure, ignoring the fluttering in his heart because you just look so damn cute in an apron. It feels domestic. 

You’re wearing a comfortable dress underneath, hair down with gold jewelry. Satoru physically gulps and tears his eyes away when they linger too long on your smooth legs. “Like I said, traffic.” He replies effortlessly, flashing you a sheepish grin. “But I’m here now, aren’t I?”  

You inhale deeply, lips thinning but you concede with a simple nod. “Food’s almost ready. Koji, go wash your hands. And don’t forget to use soap this time.”  

Koji pouts but hops off Satoru’s lap, darting toward the bathroom. The moment he’s out of earshot, the room grows quiet, the weight of unspoken words settling between you and Satoru.  He leans back on the couch, watching you as you cross your arms and lean against the doorway. “You didn’t have to go all out today, you know,” he says, his tone softer than usual. “I could’ve helped you cook—”

You shrug, looking away for a moment as you cut him off. “It’s Christmas,” you reply. “I wanted it to be nice. For Koji.”  

He nods, understanding what you’re not saying. “For Koji,” he echoes. There’s a pause before he adds, “And for you, too. You deserve something nice, Y/N.”  

Your eyes flicker to his, searching for any hint of insincerity. But all you find is that familiar look—the one that’s both infuriating and disarming at the same time. “You can’t just say things like that and expect everything to be okay, Satoru,” you murmur, your voice barely audible.  

“I know,” he says, sitting up and resting his elbows on his knees. “But I’m trying, okay? I know I’ve been pushing boundaries, and I’m sorry. I just…” He runs a hand through his hair, exhaling deeply. “I don’t want to miss any more of this. Of him. Of you.”  

The words hang in the air, heavy with meaning. You hate when he says confusing things like this because it messes with your head, fooling yourself into thinking there’s something else there. Clearing your throat, you straighten out your light pink apron. “Don’t say things like that.”

The firmness in your tone causes Satoru to purse his lips. Standing up and walking over to you. “I don’t mean anything weird by it.”

“You may not think that, but other people have different opinions.”

“Are you still mad at me from before?”

That always ticks you off—asking such obvious questions with such an innocent face. You think he’s joking, just trying to poke at the bear. But his concerned eyes, brows lifted up—it tells a whole other story. You open your mouth to respond, but Koji’s cheerful shout from the bathroom interrupts.  

“Mama! Papa! I’m ready!”  

You glance toward the bathroom, then back at Satoru. The moment is gone, but the tension lingers. “Dinner’s in ten,” you say simply, turning on your heel to head back to the kitchen.  

Satoru watches you go, a bittersweet mien playing on his godly face. He knows he’s got a long way to go—but for now, he’ll take whatever moments he can get. It’s Christmas, he wants to make the most out of it. And if that means faking it til he makes it, then so be it. 

He’s not the only one faking. 

You three are seated at the circular table in your kitchen. the warmth of the meal and the soft glow of fairy lights draped along the windows creating a cozy atmosphere. Koji chatters excitedly about his favorite Christmas movies as he eagerly digs into his plate, his small hands occasionally reaching for a cookie from the platter in the center. If Koji knew any better, he’d ask why his parents weren’t really talking to one another. 

And unfortunately, he does know better. 

“Mama? Papa? Why are you so quiet?”

Damn kids’ continent, but uncomfortable questions. 

You freeze, the fork halfway to your mouth, glancing at Satoru across the table. His eyes briefly meet yours before flicking back to Koji, his usual confident demeanor faltering under the weight of the question. “Quiet? We’re not quiet, bud,” Satoru says with a smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes. He leans forward, propping his chin on his hand. “I’m just too busy stuffing my face to talk. This food is so good.”

Koji tilts his head, unconvinced. “But you always talk a lot, Papa. And Mama, you’re not smiling. I thought today was a happy day.”

Your grip on the fork tightens, the weight of Koji’s words hitting harder than you’d like to admit. Out of the mouths of babes, as they say. You force a small smile, though it feels paper-thin. “It is a happy day, sweetie. Mama’s just tired from all the cooking, that’s all.”  

Koji frowns, his big, curious eyes shifting between you and Satoru. He’s far too perceptive for his age, and it’s moments like this that make it clear just how much he picks up on. Satoru clears his throat, leaning back in his chair. “Hey, how about this? After dinner, we’ll all watch a Christmas movie together. You can pick, Koji. And then, we can open the presents.”  

Koji’s face lights up at the suggestion, but he’s not completely distracted. “Okay! But only if Mama picks, too. We all have to pick one!”  

You manage a soft chuckle, finally taking a bite of your food to avoid answering immediately. Satoru’s gaze lingers on you, and you can feel the unspoken words sitting heavy between you both. “That sounds like a deal,” you say after swallowing. “But only if you promise to eat all your vegetables first.”  

Koji scrunches his nose but nods. “Deal!”  

The rest of the meal is filled with Koji’s chatter, and though you and Satoru exchange a few words here and there, the tension remains. It’s not lost on either of you that Koji’s cheerful energy is doing the heavy lifting to make this feel like the family dinner it should be.  When the plates are cleared and Koji races to the couch to pick out the first movie, Satoru hesitates in the kitchen. He grabs a dish towel and starts drying the plates you’ve already washed, a small gesture that feels too intentional to be casual.  

“You don’t have to help,” you murmur, not looking at him. “I got it.”

“I want to,” he replies simply. There’s a pause before he adds, “I would’ve helped cook too, sorry I came later.”  

You glance at him out of the corner of your eye, his expression softer than you expected. “It’s okay,” you admit quietly. “It’s just dinner and opening gifts, I didn’t ask you to.”  

His hand stills on the plate he’s holding. “I know,” he says, his voice low. “But it’s still an obligation of mine, you don’t have to do everything alone. I’m here now, remember?”  

The vulnerability in his tone catches you off guard. The truth to his words cause you to bite your lips, guilt sinking into your bones. It didn’t feel like one of those snide comments, but it had practically the same effect. And you know that he’s here, so he can handle some of your weight. However, it’s nonetheless hard to trust him with it, fearing it’ll be too heavy for him too. Before you can respond, Koji’s voice echoes from the living room.  

“Mama! Papa! Hurry up, the movie’s starting!”  

You sigh, drying your hands on a towel. “Let’s go before he starts it without us.” Satoru follows you to the couch, where Koji has already made a nest of blankets. As the movie begins, Koji snuggles between the two of you, his small hands clutching the remote.  He giggles, snuggling closer to you both, dropping the remote to the table. 

 It’s not perfect, but for tonight, it’s enough. It has to be, it’s Christmas. Although you’re not doing too much this holiday, not that you ever do, it still means a lot to Koji. Because he finally has his dad to spend it with. 

As the movie begins, Koji seems to have other plans. He grabs both of your hands—Satoru’s right and your left— bringing them in front of him and making them mash together. Immediately you tense up, just the slightest graze of Satoru’s long fingers having more of an effect on you than you anticipated. 

You pull away, Satoru’s hand lingers before he soon gets the hint. 

Koji frowns, head swiveling between his two parents. “Mama, Papa, you’re supposed to hold hands! That’s what families do,” Koji says, his little brows furrowing in frustration. His pout deepens, clearly displeased with your reaction.  

You give him a soft smile, hoping to smooth things over. “We are a family, Koji. We don’t need to hold hands to prove that,” you say gently, brushing his hair back from his forehead.  

“But it’s Christmas!” he protests, his small hands still clutching yours and Satoru’s as if he could force them together by sheer will. “Santa says families should be happy and together on Christmas! That’s what they do in the movies.”  

Satoru chuckles lightly, though there’s a hint of something conflicted in his expression as he looks at Koji. “Santa sounds like a pretty smart guy,” he murmurs, his gaze briefly flicking to you before resting on Koji again. “But sometimes families have their own way of being happy, bud. It doesn’t always look the same.”  

Koji seems to consider this, his lips pursed in thought. “Okay… but can we all hold hands just for the movie?” His tone is pleading, his wide eyes impossible to say no to.  

You hesitate, feeling the weight of Satoru’s gaze on you, before finally relenting with a quiet sigh. “I….Alright, just for the movie,” you say, letting Koji place your hand back in Satoru’s.  

Satoru’s fingers brush against yours again, warm and steady, and for a moment, neither of you moves. The contact feels heavier than it should, but Koji’s delighted giggle pulls your focus back to him.  

“See? Now it’s perfect!” he exclaims, snuggling back into the blankets with a satisfied grin. He holds your conjoined hands. 

Satoru hums softly, unintentionally giving your hand a gentle, reassuring squeeze before turning his attention to the screen. The movie plays on, Koji’s laughter filling the room. And while the air between you and Satoru remains thick with unspoken words, for this moment, you let yourself stay in the quiet warmth of your son’s happiness.  

The warmth of Koji’s small hands on top of yours is grounding, even as the tension between you and Satoru buzzes just beneath the surface. You glance at him briefly, finding his expression softer than usual. He’s watching Koji, a faint smile tugging at his lips, but when he catches your gaze, something knowing lingers in his eyes.

You look back at the screen, ignoring the familiarity Satoru’s large hand brings you. It’s familiar but different at the same time. It feels a bit more calloused, proof of his own events he’s faced in his life during the time you were separated. 

And to him, your hand feels just as it always did. Warm, soft, and so perfectly fitting. It’s like two puzzle pieces, or a key to a lock. For a second, he compares how it feels to Himari before mentally chastising himself. That’s probably a fucked up thing to do. But he’s already done a lot of that in his life. His thumb runs smoothly across your knuckles, causing a shiver to run down your spine. 

You want to pull away, but your son is a reminder to keep up the act. 

The movie plays on, filling the silence with cheerful music and laughter, but you can hardly focus. Satoru’s hand is still resting lightly against yours, his thumb brushing against your rugged muscle every so often, whether intentionally or not. It sends a twinge of something—nostalgia, maybe?—through your chest. You shift slightly, trying to focus on the screen, but Koji’s contented sigh draws your attention back to him. He’s nestled between the two of you, his little face illuminated by the glow of the TV, looking completely at peace.

“Are you happy, Koji?” you ask softly, the words slipping out before you can think them through.

Koji nods emphatically, his grin widening. “Yeah! This is the best Christmas ever!”

Satoru chuckles, his voice low and warm. “That’s a pretty big claim, Koji. We haven’t even opened the presents yet. What makes it the best?”

“Because I have Mama and Papa,” Koji says simply, looking between the two of you with wide, earnest eyes. “I don’t need presents or anything. Just you two.”

Your heart clenches at his words, and you feel Satoru’s hand tighten a bit around yours. You don’t pull twitch away this time, letting the moment settle over you like the soft glow of the fairy lights. Maybe it’s the fact that you’ve been emotional this entire week already, or the fact that Koji is just so happy, but you’re feeling yourself choke up. 

For a brief second, the weight of everything—the arguments, the hurt, the uncertainty—fades into the background. It’s just the three of you, here and now, and maybe that’s enough. “Merry Christmas, Koji,” you whisper, leaning down to kiss the top of his head. Hiding a trembling lip against his white tresses. Your eyes close, forcing your tears to stay exactly put where they are. 

“Merry Christmas,” Satoru echoes, his voice unusually tender. He peers over at you from the corner of his eye, a guy-wrenching twisting at his stomach when he sees your expression. He wants to wipe away the crinkle between your eyebrows with his free hand, but he decides against it—probably not the best thing to do right now. He can only offer you a firmer hand on top of yours, cradling it like it’s a diamond. It’s like a warm quilt, it feels oddly comforting. 

Again, you’re getting nostalgic. Maybe that’s another reason why you feel like crying right now—knowing you only have this fleeting moment. Koji’s smile widens, his hands squeezing one last time before settling back into his blanket cocoon.

The hours pass, having watched multiple movies already. Koji’s on the edge of falling asleep before you carefully wake him up that it’s midnight. He practically jumps right back into action, all former sleepiness gone and relaxes with utter excitement. “Presents! We can open the presents!” He scrambles to the tree, already beginning to pick at the ones he wants to open. 

You smile softly, watching Koji bounce around with excitement, the energy from the day still shining brightly in his eyes. He’s so full of joy, so eager to unwrap the surprises you and Satoru managed to get for him. The sight warms your heart, even as a quiet tension lingers in the room.

Satoru, still leaning back against the couch, watches Koji with a mix of amusement and something more—something heavier. His lips twitch, as if trying to hold back a smile, but the look in his eyes when he glances at you doesn’t go unnoticed.

“Alright, baby,” you say softly, standing up from your spot. “Let’s open them, but remember, one at a time.”

Koji nods, his little hands already tearing into the first present like a whirlwind. He pulls out a small toy car and holds it up triumphantly, his eyes sparkling with delight. “Look, Mama! Look, Papa! It’s just like the one I saw at the store!”

Satoru chuckles and ruffles his hair. “That’s a good one, Koji. I’m jealous. What else ya got?”

You can’t help but smile at the exchange, even as you reach down to grab the next present for Koji. But something still nags at you. The way Satoru looks at Koji, it’s so…heartwarming. It’s a look given only to his child, one a father could only give out. You feel both touched and warm at the same time. 

Tonight is about Koji, about making sure he feels loved and special. And while you and Satoru are at odds, you both are doing one hell of a job of making sure that it comes true. 

As Koji continues to unwrap gifts, the room fills with laughter and the sound of crinkling wrapping paper. Your heart swells watching him, but in the back of your mind, the remnants of the earlier tension refuse to fully fade. The space between you and Satoru feels both distant and strangely intimate all at once.

After maybe an hour, after admiring each gift right after opening it, Koji finishes opening his presents. You both settle back into the couch, Koji nestled between you, holding onto his new toys. There’s figurines—mainly Spider-Man or Avengers based—toy cars or motorcycles, a little rocket ship, hot wheels, a Nerf Gun, new clothes, he really got it all this year. Of course, most of the contribution was from Satoru. The silence stretches, but it feels softer now. The tension, although still there, feels more like a quiet hum in the background, overshadowed by Koji’s happiness.

“Thank you, Mama,” Koji says sleepily, his little voice thick with the exhaustion of the day. “And thank you, Papa.”

Satoru leans in, placing a gentle kiss on the top of Koji’s head. “You’re welcome, bud. Merry Christmas.” He smiles, watching his son begin to put his Spider-Man on top of the motorcycle, sparing a glance back at the tree. It’s then his smile falters. 

“Oh, you forgot two, Koji.”

“Hm?” His son looks up, seeing the two gifts all the way at the back of the tree. Getting so distracted with all his other gifts, he must’ve forgotten about those two. He sets his toys to the side and crawls back onto the floor to reach for the gift bags. Reading the tags, he looks over at you. “Oh, Mama. These are from your friend.” 

When Koji stands up and hands you one of the presents, you’re suddenly reminded. Oh. In a way, you did also forget that Suguru got you and Koji something—just so wrapped up in watching Koji rip apart each of his gifts. You smile faintly, thumbs running over the intricate snowflake patterns. 

“Friend?” Satoru asks, his voice bringing you back to reality. 

Head turning over, you realize that his face has contorted—scrunched up slightly when he holds onto Koji’s gift, reading the name of the receiver. “Suguru?” His eyes meet yours, filled with a tint of disapproval. “When did he get you two something?”

You almost lie, feeling a random burst of gultuness hit you. But it’s gone as soon as it comes. Because Satoru’s voice sounds curlis in a sense, but also suspicious. It makes you feel a little irritated, holding back a light scoff. So what Suguru got you and Koji something? “He came over to drop it off.” 

Maybe that wasn’t the best answer to give. Now Satoru’s body has faced you fully, eyebrow raising like he’s trying to put two and two together. But there’s nothing to put together. “And when was this?”

“A few days ago,” you reply back, firming your intonation. 

Satoru’s gaze narrows ever so slightly, and you can feel the shift in the air between you both. The tension that’s been simmering beneath the surface all evening suddenly intensifies. “A few days ago…” Satoru repeats, his tone now more deliberate.

“Is there a problem?” You ask, mirroring his reaction. 

Satoru bites the inside of his cheek, very obviously holding back on something for the sake of his son and the holiday. Shaking his head and giving Koji’s gift back to him. “Nope, no problem.”

You can’t help yourself as you huff under your breath, focusing back on your son as he opens the gift. He gasps, yanking the tissue paper out and revealing a bright, shiny new Spider-Man action figure. His eyes widen with delight as he holds it up to you and Satoru, showing off the intricate details of the toy. "Look, Mama! Look, Papa! It's just like the new one I saw on TV!" He beams, completely oblivious to the lingering tension in the room. “It talks and makes noises and lights up!”

You chuckle softly, finding his excitement endearing. "It's perfect, Koji. You’re going to have so much fun with that."

Satoru, however, seems distracted. He’s still watching you closely, his expression unreadable, though there’s a faint edge to his demeanor. You can tell he's trying to keep his composure, but his mind is clearly elsewhere.

Koji has almost entirely disregarded his previous gifts to play with his new gift, his attention fully focused on the toy in his hands. 

Satoru clears his throat, the subtle sound pulling you back from your thoughts. "So, Suguru came by to drop off gifts...?" His voice carries a tone that’s almost too casual, but you don’t miss the hint of something more in his eyes.

You hold his gaze, the irritation bubbling up again. "Yes, he did. He’s been kind to us." You can’t help the defensiveness that creeps into your voice. "Is that a problem?"

Satoru doesn’t immediately answer. Instead, he glances over at Koji, who’s happily occupied with his toy. He exhales slowly, running a hand through his hair before meeting your eyes again. "No, I didn’t say that. I just... I just didn’t know he was so involved."

You feel a knot form in your stomach. The subtle way he’s questioning you, the way his posture tenses every time Suguru’s name comes up—he’s feeling something, and you’re not sure how to read it. Before you can respond, Koji looks up from his toys, his voice full of innocent curiosity. “Is something wrong, Papa? Mama?”

You both turn your attention to him, but the tension doesn’t fully dissipate. You force a smile, trying to keep things light. "No, Koji. Everything’s fine." You reach over to ruffle his hair. "Are you enjoying your presents?"

Koji nods enthusiastically, his smile wide. "Best Christmas ever!" he exclaims. He looks down at your gift. “Open yours, Mama. I wanna see what your friend got you.”

You hesitate, still trying to steady your emotions after the tension with Satoru. “Alright, sweetheart,” you say, holding your gift upright in your lap. Gently peeling away the wrapping, revealing a small, wooden box. The delicate craftsmanship catches your attention immediately. 

Koji’s eyes widen in anticipation. “What’s inside, Mama? What is it?”

You open the box, revealing a small silver pendant shaped like a star, its surface engraved with intricate patterns. It’s beautiful—elegant and simple, a perfect fit for you. You trace your fingers over the smooth edges, a soft sigh escaping your lips as you smile at the thoughtful gesture. It comes with a thin silver chain, a small note underneath it. When you pull it out, it reads: 

“For the one who shines the brightest, even in the darkest of times.”

Your heart skips a beat as you read the words. It’s simple, yet so deeply personal. You trace the note with your fingertips, a mixture of warmth and something else stirring in your chest. You always mocked Suguru in the past for being so corny with his words, you never expected to be on the receiving end of them. And you never expected to blush from it either. 

“Isn’t it pretty, Mama?” Koji asks, his voice filled with genuine excitement. “I think it’s sparkly like the stars!”

You nod. “It’s beautiful, sweetheart. I’m sure it’ll look lovely on me,” You slide the pendant into your hand, clutching it for a moment longer before carefully setting it back inside. But, despite your best efforts to keep things together, you can feel the tension building again. Satoru’s look that he fails to hide is getting more on your nerves by the second. He’s acting like he has some right to be upset if his friend is giving you something. He’s acting like it’s a bigger deal than it actually is.

“Are you gonna wear it?” Koji asks, his eyes shining with curiosity. “Papa, won’t Mama look pretty with it?”

You peer over. “Of course, Mama will look pretty with it,” he says with a half-smile that’s forced. “She’s always beautiful, no matter what she wears.”

You scoff this time. What a load of shit. 

Koji squeals, clearly pleased with the answer. “Right, Mama? You’re the prettiest!”

You smile back, feeling warmth in your chest, but it doesn’t quite reach your eyes. “Thanks, sweetheart,” you mutter softly, trying to keep things light. 

It’s extremely late now. Koji has passed out in his room with the figurine Suguru got him. Satoru and you have cleaned up in complete silence, the awkward tension intensifying even more now that Koji isn’t here to mend that. There’s only the sound of the soft hum of the dishwasher as it runs. You wipe down the counter, your movements mechanical, each action making the silence stretch longer and longer between you. Satoru stands by the sink, wiping down the wet surface around it with a towel, his back to you. But you can feel his presence in the room like a weight pressing down on the air.

Neither of you says anything, the unspoken words piling up between you both. You can feel the tension crawling beneath your skin, just like before, but now there’s no Koji to distract you, no innocent question to break the silence. Just you and Satoru, both avoiding the inevitable conversation that looms in the background. Until he finally has the balls to do something. “He didn’t tell me he was getting you guys something.”

You pause, staring down at the clean surface. “Why would he have to tell you? It’s just a present.” Your hand moves again, moving onto the corner of the granite. 

Satoru bites his tongue, willing himself not to snark back. He turns his body around, eyes digging holes into the back of your head. “I mean, it’s a little strange.”

“How?”

“Because Koji is my son, you’re my ex.”

“So that suddenly means I’m incapable of receiving presents from other men now?” You whirl around, hands on your hips. “What did you say again? Oh, right. ‘Stop getting mad at little things’.” 

Satoru flinches, his jaw tightening at your words. For a moment, he’s caught off guard, not expecting you to snap back so quickly. But he doesn’t back down. “That’s not what I meant, and you know it.” His voice is low, tight, as if he’s trying to keep his composure. “I just don’t like how...how weird that feels.”

You roll your eyes. “Right, weird, huh?”

“I’m not trying to argue, okay?”

“I’m not arguing either,” you quip back. “But you have no right to act like this is ‘weird’ when it’s not. You have no right to be even curious about who’s giving Koji and I gifts.”

“No right?” He huffs back at you, lip curling up. “I think I have all the right, Y/N. First off, he’s my son. Second off, we used to date. And third off, that’s my best friend. What kind of best friend—”

“Then maybe you should take that up with him.” You cut him off, chin tilting up. It’s getting harder by the second to keep things calm and composed. But Satoru shoving his fat nose into something that doesn’t involve him is testing every bit of patience you have. “I can get a gift from whoever I want, that’s none of your concern.”

Satoru’s eyes narrow as you speak, his grip on the towel tightening, the vein in his neck twitching with barely restrained frustration. “None of my concern, huh?” His voice lowers, the words coming out sharp. “That’s funny, because it seems like everything I do, say, or feel ends up being your concern, whether you want it to be or not.”

You step closer, your heart racing as the anger rises in your chest, pushing against the barriers you’ve built. “Satoru, I’m done pretending like everything we do is some sort of tangled mess that you have the right to control. You’re not my boyfriend anymore, and Koji isn’t the reason I have to explain every little thing to you.”

“I’m not saying you have to.”

“Then just shut the hell up about it already.”

Silence follows. 

The room feels colder now, the weight of your words settling heavily in the space between you. Satoru doesn’t respond immediately, his jaw clenched tightly as he stares at you, his chest rising and falling as if he’s weighing the next words carefully. He’s frustrated, no doubt, but something else lingers beneath it—something deeper, something that neither of you has dared to address.

You stand there, both of you frozen, the only sound the faint hum of the dishwasher and the quiet rhythm of your breathing. It feels as though time has stopped, the tension so thick it’s almost suffocating. Then, slowly, Satoru takes a breath and places the towel down on the counter, running a hand through his hair. “Fine,” he mutters, his voice much softer now, but still tinged with frustration. “I get it. It’s not my place anymore.”

Your lips purse, feeling slightly caught off guard by his quick reluctance to further escalate things. But that’s a good thing, right? Swallowing down anything else, you nod stiffly. Eyes moving down to focus on anything else but him. Your hands awkwardly fiddle together. 

But he never looks away from you. Mind reeling about what to say or do next, fearing that he did in fact make a big deal out of nothing. It’s just presents, that’s it. But the quiet voice in his head nags at him more and more. But why didn’t Suguru say anything? Isn’t it at least some common courtesy to tell your best friend you’re getting his son and ex a gift? Even a simple text would have sufficed. 

But he didn’t do any of that. So Satoru’s brain feels like he tried to hide it—for a reason? He doesn’t know. Maybe he forgot? Still, he doesn’t like the knot that forms in his gut. 

A calming breath is taken to reset his system, shaking his head. Not tonight, not tonight. His fingers reach into the pocket of his coat, feeling a small, square box. He waits for a few seconds, unsure if he should continue on. Nonetheless, he does. Pulling out the little thing, presenting it in front of him. 

He clears his throat, you look back over at him. Head tilting slightly at the sight of the wrapped box with a tiny red bow. “…what is that?”

“My gift to you.” He murmurs out, holding it to you. 

Your eyes widen, mouth parting. No words come out, feeling a multitude of varying emotions. It all ends with you reaching out for the box, shaking it a little. You hear a small clanking. Asking a stupid question like what is it will just keep your wary feelings alive. So, you carefully remove the light wrapping, slowly like you’re scared as to why you’ll see inside. 

You’re not scared. Just more confused. 

“A key?” You question, holding up the gold key in front of your face. It dangles as your vision focuses back on the man in front of you. “What is this for?”

Satoru watches you, his eyes a mix of uncertainty and something deeper, something more vulnerable. He shifts slightly, hands in his pockets, his shoulders tense as if bracing himself for your reaction. “To your new place.” 

Your heart skips a beat at his words. A new place? Your mind struggles to catch up, trying to make sense of the statement. “My new place?” you repeat, still not sure if you heard him correctly.

Satoru nods slowly, his eyes now focused on the key in your hand. “I’ve been looking for something for you. For Koji. A place where you both can be… comfortable. It’s. A nice neighborhood, enough room. There’s a school next by and there’s open spots left.” His voice is steady, but there’s a tinge of something vulnerable in the way he says it—like he’s giving you space to decide, but also hoping for something more.

A rush of conflicting emotions hits you. You look down at the key again, your fingers curling around it as you try to process what he’s saying. “You… got me a place?” You repeat, still in shock over the fact that he went out of his way to do so. 

He shifts his weight, eyes still on the key. “Not just you. A place for you, Koji… and maybe even me, too. When I come to visit sometimes, there’s four bedrooms, one of them can be used as a spare.”

Your breath catches in your throat. Satoru has always been unpredictable, but this—this is different. It feels like he’s offering something more than just a space. It’s a possibility. A chance. But it also feels like an unspoken question, one that you’re not sure how to answer. “I don’t know what to say,” you whisper, looking at the key again. “Why now?”

Satoru steps closer, his expression softer than you’ve seen in a long time. “Because… I’ve been thinking about it for a while. I know I’ve messed things up too for us, and I’m not asking for anything. Just… I thought it might be a good way to start fresh. For you and Koji. And you guys mean a lot to me, I want you to live in a nice space. Not…not somewhere like this. The people look shady.”

You stand there, the weight of his words sinking in. The offer is unexpected, yet strangely comforting. It’s not just about the apartment or the key—it’s about something deeper, something that might hold the possibility of fixing whatever things were broken.

But then, a quiet part of you wonders: Do I want this?

You bite the inside of your cheek, clutching the key tighter in your hand now. You bite the inside of your cheek, clutching the key in your hand now. The smooth, cold metal feels heavier than it should, like it’s holding all the unanswered questions and unresolved feelings between you and Satoru. You glance up at him, his expression open yet guarded, as though he’s trying to brace himself for any answer you might give.

“Satoru...” you start, your voice barely above a whisper. “I don’t know what to say.”

He shrugs, though there’s an uneasy tension in his posture. “You don’t have to say anything right now. I just...I wanted to give you something. Something that’s yours.” His gaze flickers to the key in your hand. “No strings, no expectations. Just a place where you and Koji can feel safe. If you don’t want it, I’ll still keep it around if you someday change your mind.”

The sincerity in his voice tugs at something deep within you, but it also makes your heart ache. You swallow hard, your emotions swirling. “Why didn’t you talk to me about this first?” you ask, your tone softer now, though still tinged with confusion.

“Because I wasn’t sure how you’d take it,” he admits, running a hand through his hair. “I didn’t want you to feel pressured or think it was about me trying to fix everything all at once. It’s not like that. I just... I care about you. And about Koji. And besides, it’s Christmas.” He ends with a small smile, his right dimple peeking out. 

His words hang in the air, filling the silence between you. For a small instant, you don’t respond, your mind racing. This gesture—it’s thoughtful, maybe even selfless—but it’s also overwhelming. You hold the key closer, feeling its edges press into your palm, grounding you in the midst of the emotional storm. Finally, you exhale, your voice steady but quiet. “I need some time to think about this. It’s... a lot.”

Satoru nods, his blue eyes softening. “Take all the time you need. It’s yours, no matter what you decide.” He pauses, glancing toward the door. “Well, I should probably get going.”

Adjusting his coat, he takes one step out the kitchen before you stop him with a hand to his arm. A ring of fire burns up his arm and to his ears, slowly making its way to his cheeks when he looks back down at you. “I…I got you something…too.”

His eyebrows raise, not having expected you to give him something in return. Letting go of his arm, you walk to a small cupboard, reaching in and pulling out a square shaped gift. It’s wrapped in light blue wrapping with a red bow. You hand it to him and he takes it, feeling around. He already has an idea of what it is. 

“Open it when you get back.” You mutter, rubbing the back of your neck. 

He stares quietly for a small time, a hint of a smile almost making its way onto his face again. It’s cute how shy you look right now. Some things never change, do they? He nods, murmuring back. “Okay, thank you.”

With one final hum from you, he heads back to the door. His stomach feeling lighter. You hesitate, watching him turn toward the hallway. “Satoru.”

He stops, looking back at you over his shoulder. “Yeah?”

“Thank you.” Your words are sincere, even if you’re still unsure about everything. “For thinking about us.”

A faint grin tugs at his lips, though there’s a hint of sadness in it. “Always,” he says softly before walking away, leaving you standing there with the key in your hand and your thoughts spinning.

You remain rooted in place, the key dangling lightly in your grip as the door clicks shut behind him. The silence that follows feels deafening. The warmth of the holiday lights around the room does little to ease the cold weight settling in your chest. You sit down at the edge of the couch, staring at the key, your mind replaying Satoru’s words. No strings, no expectations. Just a place where you and Koji can feel safe.

It’s a generous gift, undeniably thoughtful, but it feels complicated—like every other thing in your relationship with Satoru. You know he means well, but the history between you makes it impossible to separate the gesture from the lingering emotions that bind you both. Your gaze shifts to the Christmas tree, now surrounded by Koji’s new toys. You can still picture his bright smile, hear his laughter from earlier in the evening. The thought of giving him a stable home, something truly yours, tugs at your heart. But then there’s the nagging voice in your head, reminding you of the tension tonight—the unspoken conflicts, the unresolved feelings, and the fragile line you and Satoru walk every time you see each other.

You sigh, leaning back against the couch, the key resting in your palm. Your eyes drift to the small silver pendant Suguru gave you earlier. It still sits on the coffee table, catching the warm glow of the Christmas lights. Another kind gesture. Another layer to the mess.

The soft patter of small feet interrupts your thoughts. Koji appears in the hallway, rubbing his eyes sleepily, his Spider-Man toy clutched tightly in one hand. 

“Mama?” he mumbles, his voice groggy. “Why are you still up?”

You quickly set the key on the table, forcing a smile. “Just cleaning up, sweetheart. Is everything okay?” 

He nods, yawning as he climbs onto your lap, resting his head against your chest. “Yes.”

“Did you have a good Christmas?”

“The best Christmas ever.”

You hold him close, brushing his messy hair away from his forehead. “That’s all that matters,” you whisper, kissing the top of his head. But even as you say it, your thoughts drift back to the key—and everything it represents.

Satoru has been staring at the gift—stil wrapped—for about fifteen minutes now. He’s conflicted. Unsure if he wants to know what you got him, or if it’ll bring on something unwanted. The gift sits untouched on the table before him, the wrapping paper shimmering faintly under the soft glow of the Christmas lights. Satoru leans forward, elbows resting on his knees, one hand tangled in his hair as he stares at it. His jaw tightens, then relaxes, his thoughts spiraling in circles.

Fifteen minutes. That’s how long he’s been sitting here, debating whether to open it.

He knows it’s just a gift. A simple, kind gesture. But with everything that’s happened tonight—the tension, the unspoken words, the unresolved feelings—this small box feels heavier than it should. What if it’s something that reminds him of how things used to be? Or worse, what if it’s just a polite, distant gift, a reminder of how far apart you’ve drifted?

He exhales sharply, running a hand over his face. “It’s just a damn gift, Satoru,” he mutters to himself. Yet he doesn’t move, his blue eyes fixed on the box as if it might spring to life and deliver answers to questions he’s too afraid to ask. 

He huffs a reluctant laugh, his hand finally reaching for the gift. His fingers trace the edges of the paper before he carefully begins to unwrap it, the sound of tearing paper filling the quiet room. Beneath the wrapping is a small black box, simple and unassuming. He lifts the top up and it drops to the side. 

His hands still in place, almost beginning to tremble. His breathing shallows, heart thumping quicker than before. Carefully—very carefully—he reaches in. Handling the object with utmost care, bringing it closer to his face. 

Two faces stare back at him. 

His son—undeniably younger, maybe around one year old. He’s being held in your lap, arms secure around his tiny stomach. He looks chubbier, cuter. Wearing a cute Christmas get up. Baby Santa. And when his eyes glaze over to you, he gulps. 

You’re wearing an equally festive outfit. A bright red sweater adorned with little snowflakes and reindeer, a simple black skirt to go with it. Your face is glowing with a smile so genuine, it knocks the breath out of him. Your hair is a little messier, your cheeks flushed with warmth, probably from laughing too much. Koji’s tiny hand clutches at your sweater, and your other hand is raised in a peace sign as you lean closer to him for the photo. 

Satoru’s fingers brush the surface of the photograph, his chest tightening as the memory pulls him under. It looks like a professional photo done, you must’ve gone all out that Christmas. Now, holding it in his hands, it feels like a physical snapshot of a life he had no chance of living in. 

His thumb grazes the edge of the picture frame it’s nestled in. It’s a simple wooden frame, painted white, with the words Our First Christmas Together etched across the top in tiny gold letters.

He lets out a shaky exhale, his vision blurring slightly. He blinks rapidly, trying to push back the emotions clawing at his throat. It’s not just the photograph—it’s what it represents. A time when things were simpler. When the two of you were a family, before everything unraveled. When it was just you and Koji—no room for him. 

The weight of the night presses on him again, harder this time. He feels foolish for hesitating to open the gift, for overthinking it, when you’d given him something so pure. Something so full of love. He pulls the frame in, swallowing hard as he leans back on the couch. He holds it close to his chest. His other hand runs through his hair, tugging slightly as he tries to steady himself. “Why’d you have to go and do this?” he whispers to no one, his voice breaking. He outwardly chuckles—bitter but affectionate. Warm tears sliding down his cheeks and resting atop the wooden frame. His lips press a small kiss to his baby son, and to you. 

Because now, more than ever, he realizes how much he still misses you. And how much he regrets letting it all slip away when he was too young and stupid to think clearly. 

That night when he heads to bed, he sleeps with the picture of his family next to him. Tucked in like it’s a physical being, and in a way, it is. 

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[w0rmm1lk]

I saw that you were receiving requests and I was wondering if you could write a Bakugou x male reader angst (both adults and married if possible, but it doesn't necessarily have to be.) where they There's an argument and the reader leaves the house at night and comes back just a week later (because Bakugou said some bad things. I don't think he would do that but I love angst where the character almost literally has to kneel down and ask the reader for forgiveness 😭😭😭) I'm sorry if it's too detailed and forgive my English, I'm Brazilian and I'm using Google Translate ☠️... (oh! and with a happy ending please🥺)

Yayyy first request hehe

Summary: reader and bakugo got into a small argument about bakugo not being home enough due to his hero work, bakugo being himself the argument escalated into something worse.

reader: Male

other details: Hero!Bakugo, Readers job not mentioned (can be read as hero reader or other). It is mentioned that reader has a sibling but details about them are not specified.

warnings: angst-(fluff at end), swearing(its bakugo what did you expect) implied married reader and bakugo but not mentioned. Kinda ooc but I tried my best 🥲

You and bakugo had been together for quite some time. You first started the relationship when he was in his second year at UA, but you had known eachother since middle school. So of course you knew eachother very well, and were very close. Or well, as close as you can be with bakugo.

when you first got together he had been quite distant, but you understood. He wasn’t use to this kind of thing, yet it didn’t take him long to adjust. Long story short after he graduated you both ended up moving in together.

you had quickly gotten use to how much bakugo worked. He was so desperate to be the No.1 hero, and of course as his boyfriend/husband you supported him in that. Yet, sometimes you felt that he was more focused on that than you. He was rarely ever home leaving you to do most of the house work, including the laundry, dishes, buying groceries, ect. at first it wasn’t anything to worry about, you were mostly okay with it since you got to stay home most of the time, but sometimes it would get lonley. It was weird… you had been in a relationship for so long and even lived with him yet the house felt so empty and devoid of life. You thought that it was maybe a good idea to bring this up with bakugo. He would understand…right?

You ended up needing to stay up quite late that night waiting for him to return. He always worked overtime just to get his rank higher. He was already in the top ten… why did he worry so much…?

you felt a small jolt of surprise when you heard the front door unlock, sitting up you looked over to see bakugo. Despite being right there he didn’t seem to notice you.

“Katsuki..? Can we talk real quick?” You spoke, trying to seem calm. Despite this your heart was beating like crazy, it felt like some part of you was screaming to not bring up the issues. “Hm? Oh, you’re still awake.” He replied.. yet it seemed quite delayed.

“ah- yeah… but we need to talk.” He looked over with an annoyed expression. “Not right now.” His reply… shocked you to say the least. “Katsuki. It’s important. It’ll be quick I just need to—“ he cut you off with an annoyed sigh. “I said not right now Y/N.”

“This can’t really wait for later—“ he glared. “Do you not get what *not right now* means?” He raised his voice slightly as he spoke, his eyes piercing into your softer gaze. “It’ll be quick—! I swear.” You spoke, hoping that he would take a moment to sit down and hear you out.

he rolled his eyes tilting his head back letting out a dramatic sigh. “Fine. Let’s just get this over with.” I felt a bit of relief as he accepted. I waited a moment as he sat down on the couch beside me. “The hell do you want? It’s so goddamn late.” Despite him agreeing to speak it was clear how much he didn’t want to.

“i… I was thinking, could you maybe… try spending a bit more time at home…? I know how important your hero work is to you- and I don’t want to stop you from reaching your goal but… we haven’t really spent much time together in the last few months, and— I guess I’ve been kinda lonley…?”

he stared at you, his gaze not breaking for even a second as he spoke. You looked back as you finished, expecting him to understand, but instead you were met with a rather… interesting, expression.

his expression gave off the kinda mood of *are you being serious?*

“that’s what this was about? This is what was so fucking important you just had to talk about it right now?”

what he said… it almost hurt slightly. “What…? What do you mean? I think this is something that’s pretty important.” He rolled his eyes at your response. “Tch, I get how needy you are but I can’t just throw away all my work just for you.”

“what-? I- that’s not what I’m saying-! You’re only ever home at night after I’m asleep and you’re gone once I wake up! I’m not being needy! And asking to see you at least once everyday while living in the same house is not being needy!”

his expression made it clear he was pissed off. “Do you not realise how important my work is? How important it is for me to become no.1? Or does it all not matter to you?!” You stare at him in slight shock, it was weird how much he was misunderstanding the situation.

“that’s not what I mean! I just want to spend more time with you-! If I’m going to be stuck at home all day I at least want to see someone-! Especially you!”

“I can’t just throw away my work to spend my whole day with you! My life doesn’t revolve around you!” He stood up looking down at you.

“Katsuki! That’s not what I mean-! You—“ He cut you off. “If you think I can put everything aside just for you then— you’re mistaken.” There was an awkward silence in the room for just a moment. “You should just go.” You stared at him, your eyes locked onto eachother. “What…?” “Tch— I said you should go-!”

“Katsuki— what are you talking about?!”

“…. You know damn well what I mean.”

the silence started again lasting for a good twenty seconds. You could feel the tears building up yet not spilling. “Fine.” You stood up grabbing your phone and keys walking out the door. You didn’t know what to do but just listen.

you looked at your phone for just a moment before texting your sibling, you didn’t really have anywhere to stay so you hoped they would let you crash at their place for a bit. You stare at the small screen… it was late so you could only hope they were still awake to reply. The amount of relief you felt when your screen lit up and a small notification read

..”sure.”

the next few days passed by so painfully slow. You stared at your phone most the time just hoping to see a notification from Bakugo, some sort of apology, or just a check up. nothing.

it didn’t help that he was quite a popular hero, you couldn’t even watch the news without seeing him.

after a full week past without anything from him, you realise that this was most likley an end to your relationship. All these years thrown away simply because you couldn’t handle not being near him.

you picked up your phone hesitating before sending bakugo a simple message.

“im coming over to grab my stuff. Be there in 20.”

you looked as the message sent, of course he left you on read.

despite it only being a 20 minutes drive, it felt like hours. Your mind was racing, you were nervous, scared to see him. As you walked to the front door you hesitated standing there for a good 30 seconds before finally knocking.

your heart was beating fast as the front door opened. “…come in.” He spoke. He looked more tired than ever, if anything it was a surprise he was even home. You simply nodded, stepping inside. The house looked like shit. You weren’t thinking that to be rude, it genuine looked like bakugo wasn’t doing anything to take care of it.

“y/n i—“ he was cut off staring at you, as you gave him the same glare he sent you a week ago. He averted his eyes like he was holding back tears. “Please— let’s… let’s talk about this….?”

“…what is there to talk about. You made it clear how you feel.”

“i— I had some time to think… a… a lot of time and— i- im… Tch— im fucking sorry okay?!”

you continued to stare at him, though the apology was genuine, you were scared to accept. You didn’t want things to just go back to how they were before.

“please y/n i— I didn’t realise how much I need you.. you’re so god damn important to me… i… took you for granted.”

you stayed silent staring at him. It’s not that you were being rude, you simply didn’t know what to say. You could see the desperation in his eyes but didn’t expect him to start tearing up.

“Y/n… please don’t leave me-! I.. I need you… please…” you watched as he grasped your hands tears pouring down his face as he struggled to even breath.

“im sorry for everything I said I— I had so much time to think and… I didn’t have my priorities straight! So please let’s just… let’s talk over this okay…?”

without a word you lifted a hand up wiping the tears from bakugos eyes before resting a hand on his cheek. “You’ll do better this time right…? It won’t just go back to how it was before…?”

you could see a spark in his eyes now that you finally answered. “I promise-! I— it won’t happen again just— please— don’t leave me…”

you let out a soft sigh. “I won’t leave you. And… I forgive you.” You heald onto his hands gently for just a moment before he pulled you in holding you close.

“i… don’t know how I ever took a man like you for granted.”

(end)

[velvetures]

Omg I love your stories so much especially the cod ones 😍😍😍 could you please write a ghost x reader oneshot where the reader maybe gets shot taking a bullet meant for him and maybe they are in an established relationship please with a happy ending

Ignoring Orders & Accepting Lead

A/N: I loved this req. and I hope you're okay with the direction I took this in. I'm trying to get the other asks I've been sent finished in a somewhat timely manner... haha! Honestly, I never thought anyone would enjoy my writing as much as all of you have. <3 Summary: Established relationships mean occasional arguments... You and Ghost have one before a mission. And the make-up conversation is a little less than standard for most couples. T/W: Canonical Violence, guns, knives, Blood, Death (non-major characters), severe injuries, tension, hurt/comfort, HAPPY ENDING, Ghost being a bit overprotective, Reader being a smartass, not proofread.

Arguments with Ghost happened a lot more frequently than anyone would ever suspect. While he liked to stay quiet when the opportunity arose, it was also know that if you could avoid a conflict, you would just to make sure the temperature of the situation didn’t rise too high. As a pair, it made you great operators, just for the skill-set you each had as well as the predisposition to get things done quickly, and quietly. As for being in a relationship, your character’s held zero influence on the way that you cared about each other of how that would display itself during moments of tension or disagreement. Especially in moments during missions where things weren’t going to plan, and your ideas severely countered Ghost’s.

One of those fights had occurred right before you’d been dropped into a very small town outside of Culiacán, Sinaloa. At HQ, Price was splitting everyone up for their distinct purposes, and you’d been immediately assigned with Ghost for an infil job. One requiring both of you to get in and get out of the well-known cartel stronghold without getting caught or being killed. Naturally you accepted the task without so much as flinching, whereas Ghost didn’t have such an easygoing attitude about it.

He was fucking furious.

First he tried threatening Price, demanding that you not be listed for that and go with Soap for the much less risky job of tracking down a small-time dealer who’d been listed as having information valuable to the task force. Price wasn’t stupid enough to not recognize where Ghost’s rage was coming from, and just simply said that if you wanted the job, there was nothing he could do about it since you’d already read the briefing and knew the entire plan just as well as anyone else. It wasn’t what he wanted to hear from the Captain, and that made things all the worse for you when you said you weren’t going to let him go in alone.

One of the worst fights you’d ever had with Ghost since your partnership became a fully-fledged romance happened right off the helipad being fueled-up for your departure. God it was miserable, and it hurt every ounce of you to have to defend yourself over the one thing that you were certain you could do. Your job. Understanding Ghost’s protective instinct was one thing, but there had to be a line drawn where him throwing his weight and rank around to limit your exposure to risk couldn’t be done anymore.

He’d been totally insensitive to your side of the story, and was obstinate that if you got on the helo, he’d not do a damn thing to keep you safe once you got to Culiacán. Merely to prove the bullshit point that you couldn’t to the job without him. That statement alone had you strapping into your flight harness quicker than Ghost could utter ‘jesus christ’ under his breath. Totally stonewalling you for the entire flight and practically acting like you didn’t even exist. Hell, he wouldn’t even go over the mission plan as was typical, leaving you fully to fend for yourself and follow his lead without even a hand signal to lead you through it.

Everything on entry went smoothly.

No guards were stationed in the underground sewer tunneling, leaving you very dry and unhindered on the half-mile walk from your drop-point to the access ladder leading up into the basement of a massive chapel-turned-base of operations. Whether or not you’d been keeping up or not didn’t appear to phase Ghost in the slightest, and he continued on and up into the basements without so much as glancing your way. You were quickly losing your patience, and getting than much more hurt with hoe easily he could turn off the affection and care that he always had for you. Sure, he wasn’t the coddling type, but you’d never wanted that from him; but this was a whole different level of coldness.

Inside the basement there were stockpiles of cocaine, pre-packed on shipping crates with a printed docket of everything contained on each. Just seeing that much shit all in one room made your head spin. It was one thing knowing it existed, and understanding that tons of it were being shipped all over the world, but actually being in a room surrounded by it from almost floor-to-ceiling was quite overwhelming. And Ghost’s own utterance of the sheer volume confirmed that it wasn’t just your own imagination leading you to think this was way too fucking much to handle. Bad part was, you couldn’t touch any of the shit or destroy it, and were solely on the objective of cloning their hard drives and bringing them back for examination.

Clearing stairwell after stairwell, and only needing to dispose of two guards -quick work with a sharp knife- you’d been able to access their massive data stores collected in what appeared to be nothing more than a personal server farm. Kept extremely cold for the benefit of the rows of towers, you’d been given the small cloning chip needed to transmit data back to HQ. But you needed a window of up to fifteen minutes to ensure everything was fully copied. You -and Ghost- both knew that fifteen minutes was far too long to just stand around with your thumbs up your asses and just hope that no one wondered why the two guards you’d shanked hadn’t checked in, or come to make a round inside the server room.

Ghost very instinctively covered the access door to the room, not even bothering to demand you give him the chip or take care of the data itself. A small reminder that he wasn’t totally untrusting of your skills, but still not large enough of a show that made you feel any less miserable about how your relationship was quite strained at the moment, all of something as small as a fifteen minute window of gathering information. By some miracle, you watched the progress on a small tablet linked to the chip and HQ’s data stores, watching it hit one-hundred percent in just under eight minutes. Perfect. It couldn’t go much smoother than that.

You were tapping Ghost on the shoulder, and giving a small thumbs-up just as the sounds of footsteps running up the stairwell outside began echoing. More than just one or two. It was actually a lot more than you even had the ammunition to handle, considering the job was deemed covert. Neither you or Ghost went without some protection… but you’d been packed out a lot lighter than normal. Right away he was stepping back from the door and checking his watch with a stern look in his eyes. One you recognized as realization that you’d have to fight your way out of this. Ugly, bloody, and violent.

Exactly what he didn’t want in the fuckin’ first place.

Ghost was inside of his own mind, trying to balance out the fear of you being in the middle of a cartel fire-fight and the rage he still felt when you just wouldn’t fucking listen to him right from the beginning. He knew what cartels did to women, and a pretty one like you wouldn’t have the mercy of just being killed. No. They’d fucking torture and toy with you until there wasn’t anything human left inside of you. That’s why he’d been so goddamn adamant that you stay behind for this one.

The data you’d copied over was bullshit compared to you living and breathing for another day. And Ghost couldn’t stand to think he’d walked you right into this place without at least trying to show you that he cared enough to see you live. Dying wasn’t a fear of his, but there was nothing he dreaded more than the mental image of you bleeding out in his arms all because of his own fucking mistakes.

Yet, here he stood. Having to make the decision on what to do or how to get you both out of here alive if he could even manage that in the first place. Part of him was already preparing to let them take him and give you enough time to slip away. You were fast enough. Small, so they’d have a far harder time picking you out in a crowd. But if he’s assumptions were correct, the tunnels would still be clear.

He gave you one last look, and grabbed hold of your vest to pull you behind him; Hearing the footsteps of more than six men filling into the large room outside of the server farm. Some barking orders to check down the hall, while others were meant to stay posted at the stairs to block off anyone flushed out. Ghost felt his own body starting to get cold. So desensitized to the violence he was already prepping himself to commit that if it wasn’t for you being there, he’d had already burst through the door and met them head on.

“Fuckin’. Listen,” He snapped as quietly as possible. Your ears perked up, happy to have just heard him speak, even if he sounded downright vicious. Your little hand tapping at his ribs as confirmation you were paying attention sent a shiver up his back.

“Don’t engage unless they’re right in your way. Take the tunnels out, I’ll be right behind you.” He barked out the orders under his breath.

Ghost couldn’t help but feel your hand fist into the material of his shirt. You didn’t like that one bit, and he didn’t need to see your face to know better. Because for whatever reason, you had it in your thick little head that he needed protecting as much as you did. Like it was your job to make sure he didn’t get hurt. Cute and a little bit amusing, Ghost hadn’t the slightest clue where you got the idea from or why it was such a massive trigger for him to challenge it. But right now, there was no fighting about it. He’d not take no for an answer, and when you didn’t give a confirmation right away, he growled in impatience.

Reluctantly, you gave it with a small tap rubbing your thumb over his hip bone.

One minute, Ghost was pushing open the door and spotting only three men within direct threat distance and seeing only one man standing at the top of the stairs. A split second of decision had him throwing two knives, and charging at the third to ensure that you’d only have to take care of the one remaining. He sunk a third knife in, feeling the man sink to his knees and drop to the floor, retrieving two of his blades before turning around right as the sound of a pistol registered. Ghost realized his fatal error in the squeeze of a trigger too late.

Only you saw what was coming, and Ghost watched you crumple to the floor between the shooter and himself; Stopping the man from shooting him in the back, but catching you somewhere of your front that residual splatter from the rained over his mask and tac vest. Everything around Ghost slowed, nearing an entire halt to the earth as you fell limply to the ground. Not even moving to try and cover your wound or catch yourself from the fall to the marble floor. Nightmares couldn’t compare to the sight of you crumpled in a heap of gear and bulky material after watching you purposefully allow your life to be traded for his.

The shooter wasn’t lucky enough to squeeze the trigger again for the knife that embedded itself in his forehead. Retribution. Quick but not as instantaneous as it would’ve been with a gun of his own. He was forced to see his own death approach with the snapped rotation of a throwing knife Ghost had sharpened days ago. He wanted to it last longer… make the bastard pay for it. Torture him for as long as his body could take, then give him just enough time to recover and start all over again.

But you needed him… Fuck. He needed you.

On the ground, you knew you’d taken a shot. But the adrenaline and immediate blow of it had you frozen on the floor. You couldn’t really tell where you’d been shot, or how bad the damage was. Truthfully you’d never experience it, and while many of the stories you heard over the years of your service, nothing they ever did to explain it was touching the utter fire radiating through your body. What you did know was that you were bleeding, and the shot had missed your tac vest; A small stream of blood was rolling through the grout lines in the floor, staining the white marble a sickening color.

Seeing Ghost on a knee in front of you, eyes wide and searching over your face was the next hazy image you recognized. His mask was shifting with the motion of him talking, but your ears were ringing. A pitchy and high whine blocked any other sound, even Ghost’s voice which you’d always been so very keen on paying close attention to. You felt awful. Putting him through this after you’d literally just had the fight about you getting hurt. Guilt flooded your limited emotional capacity, and as Ghost readjusted to pick you up, you felt tears rolling down your face.

You’d not had a single second to react to the fourth man in the room, him having the jump on visualizing Ghost facing the other three. It made him a vulnerable target. And in the split second you had to do something, you’d jumped in the way. Laying out totally flat to use your entire body to shield his. Hoping to god luck was on your side. At this point, hanging over Ghost’s shoulder limply as he rushed down the stairs on his way towards the basement, you weren’t sure if luck was on your side or not.

Thankfully, your hearing was slowly coming back in certain frequencies.

Sounds of gunfire and sirens blaring from the street level let you know that everyone within a few miles of the cathedral would be on the lookout for intruders. With all of the people who’d seen you, killed, no descriptions could be sent out or blared to citizens under control of the cartel. It didn’t help that Ghost was the largest man in the city who just happened to have on a skull mask and carrying a woman leaving behind noticeable drips of blood as a gruesome kind of trail to follow.

“C’mon baby, answer me!” Ghost panting yell finally registered, and you were able to manage a weak pat on his lower back. You felt his hand squeeze the back of your thigh for a moment before his pace slowed from a quick run to almost a crawl.

“We got company…”

There hadn’t been any men in the tunnel. But now that Ghost was less than fifty yards from their extraction point with a “medical” heli waiting for their return; three men were posted at the gated slope leading up to the hillside entry. The Lieutenant could feel your blood soaking into his shirt, wetting his shoulder. A bad reminder that you needed to get the fuck out of here right now. But he couldn’t get rid of those fuckers unless he put you down.

He squeezed at your thigh again to get your attention.

“I need - need to -fuck- set you down…” Saying those words utterly destroyed Ghost. You were the only thing he cared about right now, but the longer he put this off, the risk of you dying loomed closer.

“Need ya t’stay right here… okay? Don’t come out…”

Carefully you felt him settle you behind a large sewage drain pipe connecting from the street into the small walkway. Easing your back against the curved brick wall and once again taking a very hard look at you. This time, he could see where the bullet had just missed the edge of your tac vest, entering through the ripped hole in your shirt just below your collarbone. Every hopeful fiber in Ghost wanted to believe it wouldn’t be non-lethal. But if it shattered your collarbone, the bullet fractured and clipped a vein or small artery, there was plenty to be concerned about.

He would’ve packed the would just to stave off the blood flow. But he didn’t have the luxury of time. And whether or not Ghost would ever admit it to himself, repeatedly shoving his finger into your wound would render him down to a shell of a man. He couldn’t hurt you. Fuck, he couldn’t hurt you.

“Stay here… I’ll be right back.” He whispered against your forehead, pressing his masked mouth to your forehead.

You leaned into him, hearing his words and consciously noticing just how difficult it was to understand the words after hearing them. Almost like you couldn’t natively speak english and the meanings just weren’t instinctual anymore. God it took everything to comprehend that he was planning to clear the rest of the way, leaving you here. Eyes trailing after him sluggishly, you fought with your own arms to try and scoot back just a little further to peek between the large pipe you were leaning against to see if you could spot Ghost or the targets.

Being told to stay was always a difficult order for you. Even if you weren’t shot and struggling to manage simple bodily functions. Surprisingly, you were able to see the shadowed figured standing guard right at the gates you’d come through, holding rifles and totally unaware of Ghost lurking within such easy range. You wondered why he didn’t just shoot them, and get this over with.

Why he needed stealth when the entire city was looking for you didn’t make a lot of sense in your mind. Until you saw five more men walk down to join the others. With one cut of your eyes to look at Ghost, you realized he had anticipated more and planned of making quick work. It’d been a long time since you watched him work alone. Nearly two years. Attempting to shift your shoulder it rocked your entire system. Biting your jaw to keep from making noise, you tried focusing through the tears in your eyes as the only man who held the key to not only your life, but your heart in his fist.

Ghost kept reevaluating his odds with each step closer. Feeling distracted in the worst way with the guilt of leaving you unprotected, and in no position to defend yourself in the case that he wasn’t able to take all of these men alone. Those odds -either realistic or narcissistic confidence- didn’t phase the Lieutenant in the slightest. He was fueled with rage. And while these bastards hadn’t done anything, just being in his path was a death sentence.

The fight started smoothy and efficiently, taking out the largest of the men and using his half-dead form as enough of a shield to eliminate the threat of three 12.7x99mm wielders, too surprised to shoot off five rounds. Another three surrounded him with nothing more than machetes swiping through the air with near misses. One smooth draw of his own pistol dropped two men, and when Ghost turned around to face the third the butt of a shotgun smacked across his vision, dropping him to his knees and hearing his pistol slide across the floor out of reach.

He hauled himself to a knee, watching the man throw the empty shotgun away and approach with a knife, glinting in the sunlight just on the outside of the tunnel. Ghost could actually hear the rotor blades of the helicopter cranking up, set into motion by the small tracker in his belt giving the pilot a comm-less tip off. He’d have to fight this hand-to-hand, and while he didn’t feel the least bit tired, Ghost knew a long fight only risked you further. And fuck if making you wait didn’t make his hair stand up on edge. Even in your state, he knew better than to think you wouldn’t start getting worried in the next couple of minutes.

His opponent took the first blow and used the hilt of his large blade to connect fully with Ghost’s jaw. A heavy crack sounded, but the Lieutenant merely flinched; Throwing his own weight on the weight-matched man, and there ensued a grappling match that risked deadly knife wounds being grazed against straining forearms and a battle of wills that totally opposed one another on every basis… Save for being the last man standing. For the second time in a single mission, Ghost found himself at the razor’s edge of a knife pressing against his throat and no really foolproof tactic of getting out of it.

“Seré el que te mate, fantasma..” The man breathed hotly against Ghost’s ear, jerking the knife closer and fighting the sheer strength in the Lieutenant’s arm. “Colgaré tu cabeza en mi pared, bastardo.”

Ghost fumbled with his other hand under the pressure on his throat began taking away the normal dexterity he functioned with; Trying to find a knife on his belt, or any kind of weapon at this point. Only all of them had been embedded in the dead bodies scattered around them. It had been a bad decision to listen to Price when he said to pack lightly. It would be the end of him.

Simon Riley didn’t show himself often during missions. Always locked away in the recesses of Ghost’s mind, quietly biding his time until there was the few-and-far-between moment for him to appear for a few moments. Typically in the darkness of your shared bedroom with your face pressed between his shoulder blades and your little arm wrapped around his waist.

Simon loved feeling your hand against his belly, twitching your fingers in your sleep and reminding him just how soft and loving you were; Happy to hold his hand tightly in the middle of unconsciousness just like you did when awake. Ghost did everything he could to protect Simon from anyone and anything that could hurt the other half of himself. But hearing another pistol register loudly in the tunnel, echoing back and forth for almost a whole minute; Ghost found himself losing control to Simon.

He felt the man above him slump in dead weight against his back. Muscles slack and the knife held to his throat clanged to the concrete. Looking in the direction of the shot, whatever protective grasp Ghost had on himself utterly dissolved. You’d managed to lay yourself out on the floor, hardly propped up on one elbow with your smoking pistol shaking in your hands. Tears spilled over your cheeks and with each second that passed, he could visualize the pain you felt from such a rough kickback in how you abruptly dropped the pistol in front of you and collapsed flat on the floor with a low groan.

He couldn’t have moved to your side faster.

Immediately picking you up again and making the very short but tense run back to the heli; all the while the pilot was looking between his instruments and the sight of Ghost holding you close to his chest in the floor.

“No one… threatens… to kill you… but me…” You mutter pained, bearing a muddled smile up at Ghost.

Unbelievable… Ghost hardened his stare, putting pressure to your wound and watching in quiet grief that he needed to cause you pain.

“Good shot… did good baby…,” He whispered back weakly, burying his face in your neck and squeezing you against him. Desperate to get you home and safe.

“Gonna ignore how you refused to follow a superior’s orders three times…” He added stiffly, feeling you twitch when a spasm in your shoulder seized. You just bit out another pained noise, coughing a bit with the dust being kicked up from the helicopter lifting off.

The look you gave him couldn’t be seen as anything other than pure, innocent, and unflinching devotion. It nearly ripped Ghost out of the body you clung to, leaving Simon bracing you against his chest as the pilot at the front started giving information to the rest of the squad about fifty miles away at a safe house. Much too long for the Lieutenant’s liking. But close enough that he could get you to his squad and they could ensure you didn’t leave him.

He couldn’t stand losing you, and they’d make sure you didn’t.

“Simon,” Sweet and weak, your hand cups his cheek as you bring him out of an initial trigger. “M’not leaving you anytime soon. Love you too much.” Your eyes close as your head leans agains him trustingly.

His chest crumbled in on itself. “Love you too, baby… I love you too.”

Reblogs & Comments are Appreciated! <3

[imagionationstation]

So here’s what went down…

Ah, yes.

The infamous “Splinter passes on the mantle of Sensei” scene.

Possibly the most misinterpreted scene in the history of 2012turtle scenes. (Perhaps I shall get to the others someday.)

I’ve always assumed that the verdict for this scene was the same for all, and I never knew people hated, or even disliked, Splinter for his choices in this until recently. And it has been eating away at me, because I don’t think ya’ll understand what’s going on here.

Maybe you do, but…

Can I point out exactly what I saw happen here?

Yeah?

Thanks. 🤎

1: Splinter is not sleeping and is ‘distant’, making Leo worried enough to inquire about his health. He’s clearly spending every second agonizing over what’s coming, and meditation is probably his only solace from the burden of his fears. (I do the same thing when I’m anxious. Distract and distance, it helps me feel a sense of- control, I guess.) 2: Splinter does not address Leo’s question. He’s already tried to tell Leo what was going on before this, and now he wants to focus on what he feels is important. His family. He immediately changes the subject (limping in a way that has me suddenly concerned because GUYS HE HURT AND OLD AND GOING TO FIGHT FOR HIS LIFE PLEASE NO-) and asks Leo why he made him leader. 3: Leo awkwardly repeats what he said, “Because I asked to be… You said it wasn’t because of my skills…” (THAT’S ONE INTENSE OF A WEIGHT TO CARRY IF YOU REALLY THINK ABOUT IT, THE HECK-) and Splinter corrects, “I said that only to temper your ego at the time. I knew even when you were a small boy, that you would one day grow up to be the leader of this team.” -Can I just add that he’s not saying this literally. He’s the cryptic, wise, know-it-all sensei. He’s not saying, “I planned to make you soldiers and for you to lead the fight”. He’s saying, “You have always been the one to teach, protect, and lead your brothers, and there was absolutely no one else as perfect for the job.”

Seriously. Lookit baby Leo guarding them while daddy’s away. 💙💙

4: And then he throws everyone watching through a loop: “And when I pass on, to be like a father as well.” And just like us, Leo’s got a whole lot of “EXCUSE ME, WHAT?!” going down.

5: But Splinter’s going stay his cryptic self by clearing no air. (Okay, but let’s think about WHY for a moment. We know our leader in blue by now. If Leo knew exactly what he knew, martyr instincts would kick in hard core, and he would do everything it takes to make sure their father survives. And Master Splinter isn’t going to sit here and let Leo go on a suicide quest. From his POV- He’s old. He’s lived his life. He can try to accept his own death. He will not accept Leo’s.)

6: Splinter imparts this saying that I love with everything in me. “Leonardo. If I can only impart one piece of wisdom that will remain with you forever…” (Ergo, Dude, this is Important. Pay attention to what Imma about to say) “Remember. Giving guidance to your brothers and friends does not come from here…”

“It comes from here…”

THIS IS DEEP, YO. IT SAYS SO MUCH AND IT’S SO SIMPLE-

And people are MAD AT HIM FOR THIS?!

Sorry, sorry- emotions. I’m breathing. I’m breeaaathing… Okay. Yes, I get the gist of the arguments. ‘Splinter made Leo head of the household and that was a terrible thing for him to do. Leo’s too young for that responsibility, he already has the weight of being leader on his shoulders, and that’s a burden his mourning heart can’t carry. It’s cruel for him to do such a thing.’

Or-

And-

@tmntforeverinmyheart and @stardustartist, everyone’s opinion is built off of observations, beliefs, and their own POV on events, and every opinion matters. Thank you for yours. 💚

Now onto mine-

I don’t know what this quote from Splinter means to you guys, but to me, it’s his way of trying to fix things!

I think he finally realized that he done messed up. He knows that he put Leo in a position of ‘I am leader, and mission always comes first’. He’s had plenty of time to see the damage he’s done, and he’s worried of what will come off his family if he doesn’t fix it.

Leo is too far into his head. He isn’t thinking with his heart- “what will happen to my family with me gone?”. He’s thinking with his head, “lives are at stake and I’m the leader- self sacrifice it is.”

Every mission, every step, every choice is a plan, and his life is simply a factor in it. A pawn to be thrown away to complete the important task. It doesn’t hold meaning because of what Splinter told him all the way back in season one, and his father is finally realizing it. (ABOUT FREAKING TIME-)

He’s not telling him “don’t think”.

He’s saying, “Think another way.”

I feel you, @sr200916. A friend of mine said this exact same thing, and I wholeheartedly agree. And here’s some depth into why.

Kids without parents attach themselves to role models. Mother figures, father figures- kids need to be guided, and led, and hugged, and need that one person who can say “it’s okay” and magically the world is a little less dark.

And they’re just. KIDS. They left the sewers three/four years ago! Everything is still so wide and new and confusing and there’s still so much they haven’t learned or experienced- they’re kids.

And yes. Leo is a kid too. But who else are they supposed to turn to?

Karai?

She’s not a parents. She’s gone from enemy, to somewhat friend, to sister-in-college-who-drops-by-sometimes. She’s living her own life. They aren’t going to see her as anything more than their equal. Much less look upon her as a guardian.

April and Casey?

Best friends/honorary siblings. They aren’t going to fit that role.

Mutanimals? Leatherhead? Bishop?

Friends. Equals. People that they trust. But not anyone that they’re immediately going to lean on as a guardian. They need someone who they already look up to and trust to lead and guide them. They need someone who already has their well-being as a number one priority. They need someone who they can feel comfortable going to talk to when he can’t be there to lend advice.

-And I know what some of you are still thinking. But what about Leo?! He’s just a kid too!

And, hey, I’m not arguing. He absolutely is, and in a perfect, fair world, he would continue to have an adult to teach and guide him- but their world is neither perfect nor fair.

All his life, he’s had two solid goals: Make sensei proud. Protect my brothers.

He’s seen as the most mature brother for a reason. He’s had to grow up in a world where finishing school and getting/keeping a job isn’t his main concern. For about three years, he’s spent every night making sure that his brothers stay alive. In fact, he starts doing it almost unconsciously- taking responsibility of his brothers and their missions without filling Splinter in, as shown in Annihilation: Earth! Part 1, when he’s laying out the plans, and Splinter straight up asks, “What is going on?” and Leo brushes him off, essentially just telling him that there’s trouble, but they have it covered.

Splinter is speechless for a moment, but then consents, telling Leo that he’ll be near the cheese phone if they need him.

This is a huge change if you really think about it, and done very subtley. They show us how their relationship has changed- Splinter no longer has the control to give the okay. Leo no longer feels like he needs Splinter guidance or permission. He’s grown up, and he’s leading with a firm hand, just as he was born to do.

And Leo also has experience raising his brothers- who do you think was acting sensei while they were in space?

Fugtoid was Donnie’s mentor, sure, but it was Leo who the brothers turned to when things got out of hand. It was Leo who had to talk sense into them, who always has the last word, who seemed on edge 24/7 as the season progressed, seeing the dangers space held and sending away his team when the evil space station was sent to go boom.

Whether fans like it or not, a leader, a sensei, is simply who Leo is.

There’s a reason he always gets heated and offended when he thinks his place is being challenged-

Leo thrives under that sense of control, and his brother thrive knowing that the control lies in someone else’s hands.

Now, with their father gone, it’ll lie in the hands of the brother that they trust with it most (whether Raph admits it or not) because he’s proven himself time and time again to be able to handle it.

Splinter isn’t stupid. He knows his boys. He knows exactly who Leo’s younger brothers are going to turn to after he’s gone for good this time, and he needs Leo to realize this too. Perhaps he hopes the burden will be easier to bear if it’s given slowly, instead of chucked out of nowhere.

Splinter was not purposefully ‘parentifying’ Leo. There’s a reason he waited so long. Maybe he was never going to say anything at all. Maybe he was struggling with the choice, and when Leo walked in to ask if he was okay, he made a last-minute decision.

Splinter knew it was going to happen. Leo was going to become head of the household, whether or not he said anything about it. It’s how their family dynamic always shapes out- there’s a reason the fans call Leo a mother hen!

It was always going to happen. So instead of standing by and letting fate play out, Splinter decided to interviene.

He wasn’t putting the burden on Leo’s shoulder. He was reassuring his son that he could handle it. He was giving advice on how to take care of his brothers. He was trying to help, not to hurt.

Obviously Leo is going to end up hurting. Obviously, it’s going to be hard. Obviously, it’s going to be a lot to adapt too. For Splinter’s sake- their father is going to die!

But his brothers will be there for him. He may be acting sensei, but we’re shown that they have his back. (Raph’s talk with Mikey on the rooftop is a very prominent piece of proof.)

Splinter knows that no one else can do the job better, and by voicing that he’s sensei, no one else should be able to take Leo’s family away from him. At the end of the day, as the eldest, he will be the one who bears the Hamato legacy (remember, Karai is busy shaping the Foot legacy anew), but unlike Yoshi, Leo will not be alone. He’ll have family and friends to back him up when things get difficult.

It’s a heavy title, but one that Leo is ready to carry.

Except… For one pretty major flaw. A flaw Splinter encouraged, and a flaw that he knows cannot stay.

The martyr complex.

That, is what I believe the “use your heart and not your head” phrase is meant to squash. And I believe with everything in me that it does. Leo’s life is no longer just a chess game. If this pawn doesn’t come home from a mission, his team suffers. His brothers suffer.

He is no pawn, and he can’t afford to see himself as one. He cannot afford to treat his life like it’s expendable. There’s more at stake then just the mission, and deep down in his heart, he knows that. He’s no longer just a leader. He is a father, and he has a family to live for.

And… Can I just add that Splinter’s not just up and abandoning him?

When Leo doesn’t know what to do next after his father is gone- Splinter is there. When it looks like he’s been defeated by the Shredder- Splinter is there. When they face their first real threat since his passing, and Leo is in the dojo struggling with what to do- Splinter is there.

“Leonardo, I know you feel the weight of leading your family, but remember, I am always with you.”

I mean- come on! Even in the afterlife, he’s looking over him!

He knows the burden on his son’s shoulders, and he’s come to help and warn to relieve it, if only a little.

Should he also have appeared to his others sons? ABSOLUTELY!

Could he…?

Well…

Don’t get me wrong- They’d have every right to be upset if they find out that Splinter appeared to Leo and not to them. But I’m sure there was a good reason- Leo mentions “meditating for weeks” after his father’s death at one point, so his spiritual strength, place in front of the altar, and need to speak to his father could have urged down “Mr. Higher Spiritual Plane”.

That’s why Donnie couldn’t see him when he walked in. This wasn’t a ghost doing his own thing, this was a spirit summoned down by Leo. When Donnie startled him, Leo lost concentration, and Splinter disappeared.

But, it’s still going to hurt, knowing he appeared to Leo and not them…

And should he have told his other sons that he was going to die?

….No. Just, no.

For one: He only hinted at the fact with Leo because he felt it was necessary to pass on certain information, to help him prepare for what’s coming. He didn’t give him specifics, no matter how much he begged.

If he told any of the brothers- Donnie would not rest until he pressed him for every ounce of information, Mikey would not have been able to handle the thought of something happening to Splinter, and Raph probably would have died that night on the rooftop trying to stop the prediction from becoming reality.

All of them would have wanted to stay with him after the warehouse fire, and I believe Splinter separated them for a reason.

As the youngest brothers, Donnie and Mikey needed to be shielded from memories that their analytical and photographic minds would not have been able to handle. It would have broken them to see their father die.

Leonardo would spent the rest of his days hating himself for being there and not preventing it. He’d drown in the guilt and fear- because if he couldn’t doing anything, how can he be certain that he’ll be able to keep his brothers safe? How can he be trusted with their lives when he couldn’t even save their father?

This way- Leo knows he’s been sent away, and he knows Splinter’s the reason that he couldn’t protect him. The blame isn’t as strong because he wasn’t there, and that was Splinter’s fault. It’s easier to manage when there’s another to pass on the blame.

Splinter didn’t let him protect him, and by doing so, protected Leo.

Now, Splinter’s sons would have put up a fuss or gotten suspicious if one of them didn’t go with him, so he made an educated choice.

Raphael is the strongest of the brothers. Out of all of them, he’s the most likely to mentally and physically survive the battle. He doesn’t let guilt swallow him like Leo does- he turns it into anger, and uses that anger to defend his family better next time. Out of all of them, Splinter hoped that Raph would be able to handle the memories, and the show basically tells us that he does- his maturity to accepting Leo as sensei was both shocking and relieving.

Now, I’m not saying every choice made here was inherently a good one. There’s a lot of choices made in Splinter’s life that are questionable- but every choice he makes is only in his sons’s best interest. At one point, Splinter was going to run the last of his clan. He was raised to prepare for war. His sensei could have groomed him with a leader mentality, and the notion to never put his life over the sake of his clan’s, since he was supposed to lead them one day.

He’s a single dad living in the sewers who doesn’t understand the internet and fears human contact- the only way he knows to raise his children are based off experiences with his own family, and his culture. Making Leo a martyr was a mistake, and he sees that now.

So to summarize:

No one was being made a parent. Leo is a verified mother hen, and he will lead. Period. It was always going to happen, and Splinter was trying to help lead the way. He probably would have given a lot more advice had his other children not interrupted.

Yes, he made a huge mistake years ago, but now he’s trying to fix that with a simply offering of advice. Follow your heart, not your mind, because at the end of the day, the heart will always lead you and your brothers home.

No, the entire family should not have known. They would have done everything in their power to stop what could not be prevented, and that could have gotten them killed. Splinter would never allow that. Their time was not up. They would not needlessly suffer because of him. Not his boys.

Just a side note: Taking care of his brothers might not be the worst thing for our mourning boy. Not only does it give him something to focus on, but, as an older sibling, I know it sometimes brings me comfort to comfort a young sibling. Maybe it’s some buried instinct in my being to keep them happy and healthy taking over, maybe it’s because I have a tiny bit of control in the moment, or maybe it’s a feeling of accomplishment that helps battle against the aching hurt eating away at me- but it helps. It really does.

It’s not like their infants, or little kids. His brother’s can fend for themselves, and they understand their place in the world much better than they did years ago. They can protect each other.

In reality, the only thing that will change is the hovering knowledge that someone is missing.

Holy chalupa, I just wrote an essay…

Back to the episode!

The rest of this isn’t too deep. So have some reactions:

“I don’t understand… You’re fine, father-”

🎶I can see what’s happenin’ here🎶

HE CALLED HIM DADDY IN A DOJO SETTING AFTER ASSURING HIM THAT HE WAS WELL!

POOR BABY BLUE KNOWS BUT IS STUCK IN DENIAL- 😭❤️‍🩹

“Is there something you’re not telling me?”

Leo, he is trying to tell you! And he could have! If not for literally MILLISECONDS after he asks, Mikey interrupting. Splinter might have clarified! He might have said more! Hinted how he knows! Said he was so proud! Given advice! Cleared the air! THE POSSIBILITIES ARE ENDLESS-

Ah, these poor naive boys and their bad timing….

Okay, but like, how am I supposed to be annoyed at these faces. AND WHY IS RAPH OH-SO JOYOUSLY COPYING MIKEY- AND DONNIE WHAT IS THAT DEAD-EYED STARE- ����🤣🤣

YA’LL ARE MESSING UP MY EMOTIONS IN THIS FREAKING SCENE, YO

I’M TRYING TO BE SERIOUS IN THE MOMENT

BUT EVERY TIME THEY POP UP- 🤣

Okay, but is Splinter immediately taking the invitation to spend time with his sons because he knows that he doesn’t have much longer not the most wholesome thing ever?

He can’t continue this talk with the brothers present, and they’re clearly excited to go, so why not attend and make a few more bright memories before he’s gone?

Also, I deem it illegal for rock music to be this ominous-

I blame Leo for looking despondently after them and triggering bad things are about to happen emotions. Poor blue boi.

Anyway

Splinter is not a bad father. He is imperfect, but every choice he makes is for his sons’ good. They are his world. Their lives will come before his every time, even if that means giving heartbreaking advice before he has to be taken from them. He only wants what’s best for his family.

They are his sons. He is their papa.

And that’s all there is too it. 💚❤️💜💙🧡💚

I freaking love this show…

Thanks for reading!! I did my best to double-check everything that I wasn’t sure about, so that I could be as accurate as possible! Even if I didn’t change stubborn minds, I hope I gave you guys some things to think about!

Every opinion matters! Thanks for checking out mine!

[yoonsdoll]

universe - yjh

content : n-i!jeonghan x gn!reader ; angst ; 0.5k words ; one mention about having a family together ! - maybe this universe is against you both. an : i dont know why i did this to myself

two years ago today yoon jeonghan decided to confess his love. he swore that if he kept it hidden any longer it’d tear him apart. the most beautiful moment in his life was meeting you, right after the day he finally made you his.

he remembers wishing to every shooting star he saw that you’d accept his confession - that you’d accept him. that you’d accept the idea of holding hands on walks, you’d accept the idea of going on dates together and hugging each other in the warmth of his bed. that you’d accept the idea of his lips on yours after what felt like years of waiting. 

and you did. but you didn’t just accept it, you welcomed it with a smile on your face, an exploding heart, and an ‘i love you.’

you craved his touch on cold days, his voice on sadder ones. and when you told him that, he internally cursed at himself for not confessing earlier, yet being content that he could now provide you with everything you need. 

‘i wish for us to be together in every universe, no matter the circumstances.’ he told you, ‘i love you so much, and i want to keep that love, whoever we may be.’

somehow he always managed to say the right things, he made you feel so loved. so wanted. and you did the same back. you took care of him on his worst days, and you made him smile even wider on his best ones. he was so full of your love, he believed your hearts were intertwined.

‘..do you think we will get married in this universe?’ you replied.

‘i don't have a single doubt.’ 

‘how come?’

‘i just don't think there is ever a reality where i won't ask you to marry me.’

yoon jeonghan wasn’t a liar. he didn’t wish for anything more than to marry you and create a cute little family with you, living comfortably thanks to his well paying job and growing old together as you experienced everlasting love. 

and so when you and him decided to end things off due to an unresolved argument, he was heartbroken. of course you were too; waves of sadness crashing against your heart. but ever since he lost you, he lost home. realisation that the once shared-dreams were now nothing but a fragment of the past.

it was bittersweet. he hated himself for not fighting for you, for that night where instead of impulsive words spilling out his lips, he could have been apologising and swearing to have made a mistake on his half. yet a part of him wanted to believe that it was for the better, that you’d be happier without him - even though he was aware that wasn’t the case. 

maybe someday he will get the courage to tell you just how much he misses you. maybe he will put a matching ring on your finger if things go well. or maybe, this universe is the odd one out, one where you are simply not meant to be.

[noonaishere]

Music of the Heart [J.YH] - one hundred and four | kiddo

“Hey dad.” You said as you sat next to the bed after you, Intak, and Yunho made your way to the hospital.

He opened his eyes. “You’re here?”

“Yeah. Intak called me.”

He nodded, his eyes tearing as he smiled.

“Are you mad?”

“No, kiddo. I’m glad you’re here.”

You nodded, trying not to cry. “So the surgery’s tomorrow, huh?”

He nodded. “Yeah.”

“I’m sure you’ll do great.”

He nodded again. “Your mom is worried.”

“You know how mom is.”

“Yeah.”

“I’m sure you’ll be fine.”

He nodded again. “Thank you, kiddo.” He reached his hand out and put it on yours. “I’m glad you came to see me.”

You nodded.

After sitting with your father for a while - he had recounted the particulars of what had happened in his classic dry way of talking about situations or people - you supposed little had changed since you left. You returned to the waiting area, and before you could even steel yourself for your mother’s vitriol, the first words out of her mouth to you were:

“You could have just done what I’d asked and you’d be where your brother is right now.”

Intak looked away, not wanting to be used as a battering ram.

“Yeah, I could be second chair.”

He turned to you, you apologized with your expression. You had nothing against him, second chair was perfectly fine, but it wasn’t to your mother. It was obvious she wanted a fight. Intak nodded, seeming to understand that it wasn’t personal.

“At least he has the wherewithal to stick with something!” 

“I was sticking with bass, but you sold it.”

“And you sold the violin I bought you!”

“Is that what matters to you? I can pay you back now, if you want. I have the money. I work for Wonderland Entertainment now! A real job that I like where I get to make the kind of music I want to make and I even get paid well for it!”

She looked at you, shocked.

“What? You’re surprised? That I might have had plans for myself other than what you wanted for me, and that those plans worked out? I play the instrument I want and I make money because of it, mom! And you can’t tell me shit, because I’m not miserable like you wanted me to be!”

“I didn’t want you to be miserable, I wanted you to be--”

“Even if I was making all the money in the world from playing violin, I would never have been happy! I didn’t want to play the fucking violin! I just wanted to make my own choices and live my own life!"

She was speechless for a moment and then switched gears. She scoffed. “And you’ve brought Yunho too. Are you going to tell me that you’re pregnant next?”

“Oh, my god mom, no! Is anything that you don’t want always the worst thing that could possibly happen? Is me trying to make my own decisions the worst thing that could possibly happen? You get that I’m an adult right? You can not speak to me like this!”

“Excuse me?” A nurse asked politely. “I don’t want to interrupt but if you could take this argument somewhere else, there are people waiting to hear about their loved ones and hearing you argue could be stressing them out.

“Maybe we should go…” Yunho said from behind you as he placed a hand on your shoulder.

“Let’s."

You turned on your heel and walked towards the door, Yunho right behind you. You stopped for a moment and thought, and turned back to your mom.

“You know… You don’t have to like it or even understand it, mom. You just have to accept it and love me anyway because I’m your kid. I didn’t do anything wrong, I just didn’t want the life you tried to design for me.”

Yunho opened the door for you and you walked through it.

“T/n…” Intak started as he followed both of you out the door.

  previous | main cast | masterlist | next

a/n: Of course t/n’s mom would pick a fight IN the hospital 🙄

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Any comments, reblogs, or asks are appreciated! I love talking with you guys and seeing what you’re saying about the chapters, it keeps me going 🥰

@luvvvx • @iamthehotdemon • @hrts4hanniehae • @rachs-words • @stayatinykatsy • @anythingrelatingtojinyoung​ • @jaytheatiny​ •

[onelocket]

i love your account so much and i’d like to know if you take requests? if you do can you please do headcanons or a scenario where fyodor’s gf is a waitress? fem reader or gn reader is ok, i just want that giddy romantic stuff in an aesthetic place like cafes 😭

hello anon! yes i do take requests. i’m just not talkative about it - not that i don’t want requests obviously, but since my fyodor is very soft i don’t expect any. but you’ve contradicted, i’m also taking a guess you’d want reader being a barista; since you did mention a place fyodor has been to: cafes. so thank you for your words and for requesting ♡

Fyodor with a ‘Personal’ Barista

involves -- gn reader but with feminine terms

theme -- anon wants romance so no dark topics :)

⚘

Did you intend for this, or not?

It been quite recent actually. …Your work at a specific cafe, that is. When you first dated Dostoevsky, you’d take note of how he sporadically hangs out at this one cafe, which got you hooked to the thought of what could possibly be so different with this place to keep a guy like him staying. You wanted to know what kind of food and drinks your boyfriend liked so you could get to know him better. But when you one day stepped onto the cafe, you were greeted by a barista with a hopeful smile on their face after a while of realizing their stares on you. Yet as you were stunned, your hands helplessly accept what they had given.

"Hello. I’m sorry if this seems like a rather… surprising situation, but you’re rather attractive. You’d catch many attention within moments! So I was thinking…"

"…I-Isn’t this the pamphlet for hiring people?"

They had a lengthy effort of explaining how you’d be good for this job, but also puts in the words ‘it’s okay if you don’t want to’ just for the affect of looking respectable. But as you pondered longer, your head clicked to Fyodor - making you realize… maybe this could come of use to you. I-In many ways, of course, right?

You accept it, excited to surprise him.

Besides, who could ever except their lover to be suddenly working at their favorite cafe? Most would be touched and perhaps even melt at the gesture, and it’s exiting to think what a gentleman like Dostoevsky will reply with, right? You couldn’t wait to see any form of pink on his cheeks. Sure, he was a lot more calculated and calm than most guys - but one who loves is still able to blush somehow, right? Yet when you got home and show him the familiar cafe uniform, he surprises you back with a… smirk.

"Is my little mouse too cooped up in our home to the point they’ll take work? My, I wonder when you found out about such cafe."

You tried to play dopey, "I think it’s quite fun. I’ve only heard about this cafe by a pamphlet I saw whilst shopping." even if you knew your words are too weak to lie through Fyodor’s ears.

Fyodor doesn’t comment on it, however, only standing up from his seat to lean forward. Your eyes blink in confusion towards his moment till his thumb lifts your chin up, his index pressed on your skin. It’s not plastered, but you saw a faint smile replace his smirk.

"That’s my good independent sweetheart."

Working there was… interesting.

For a guy who looks and acts opposite, Fyodor was such… was difficult the right word? You don’t really know, you just felt like your whole mind was going to explode then on.

"Mind be a dearie and actually know what I prefer, hm?"

"Even that barista over there can properly listen better than you, little mouse. Snap out of it, my beautiful dear. You’re working, act like it."

You knew he was just teasing you and poking fun, but you can’t help it - it was honestly a bit irritating. If he wasn’t your boyfriend then it’d be sure to result out in an argument. Because how dare he? But because you love him enough, you just let his taunt. Unfortunately for you though, a lot of his acts do make your thoughts itch, making you appear just the slightest bit more short tempered to him, to other customers, and co-workers.

"They can be so easy sometimes.."

Fyodor would just whisper to himself as he watches you, only but a scratch away from being a stomping barista in such a peaceful cafe, a red heat in your cheeks not that visible to others; but a hue so cute in Fyodors eyes. Of course, his provoking wasn’t present everyday, just in days he felt like seeing you all pouty because of him.

Like your own cctv..

He frequently had his eye on you whilst visiting the cafe. Not only to take in your beauty, but to also see how you were doing. He doesn’t stare every single second - since he came here for tea too, but still a lot of glances come from him while you work. Besides, even if you can be.. a bit timid, you still knew your way without his supervision, so he wasn’t that cautious. But sometimes, Fyodor just can’t let some creeps snake in and try to seduce you, glaring at the sight even if it was tables away. If it gotten too far, the next thing you’ll see is a walking Fyodor with a polite smile that you just knew reeked dislike.

"I see you’re having a rather friendly conversation with a customer, my muse?"

You cover half of your face with a tray you were holding, "…They were just asking something." speaking quietly in reply.

"Really? I see. After your done with your shift, come to my table and share a treat with me."

And that was.. uncharacteristic of him, but enough to lower the credence of your ‘friendly customer’ to make them excuse themselves after one last word or two at you. But who were you to ask and complain the act of your lover? Fyodor knows you love him with each beat your heart produced, but while it’s also better to be safer - he secretly likes the way you get all shy when he puts a possessive abrupt.

He praises you quite a bit,

For as said, Fyodor’s taunt isn’t an everyday occurrence. Seeing you was already satisfying his want to be entertained, especially when you’re all so cute in that simple barista uniform. You were so beautiful in it, and to think such eyeful was blending in amongst a cafe quite popular, it makes him smile knowing your love is taken by his. So sometimes, he also gives your some light praises when you finally get his preferences right, or maybe give him an indulgent little treat you pay for him. Or whenever you just walked by, really.

"Mhm.. that’s right. Good, you’re getting the hang of it."

"You make it quite difficult to leave this cafe seeing you all pretty and working so well, dear."

You had to whisper out your ‘thank yous’, knowing your voice would turn high-pitched if you dare to speak up loud. It was so… hard to get rid of such a harsh red on your cheeks, but whenever you manage to, you give a sharp inhale, using those words to keep you going instead of melting right at the spot. You’d hate to give Fyodor his initial result with his words. And Fyodor knows that you resist the result, but that doesn’t make him see you any less cuter. If anything, he could smirk at how you were turning it into a mental challenge for yourself. But he’s glad he can help you, even in a way not planned out for.

bonus scenario

As you take a ten minute break after a fleeting urge wins you, a squeaky whine comes out your lips before you sink your head on your arms, tired. You haven’t been in many shifts today, but something about today was off. Like something needed to be said.

Yet as if the world follows your thought, the same co-worker who suggested you to work here a couple weeks ago lightly nudges your shoulder, making you look up. "…Oh, yes?" You ask, blinking a few times.

"Tired already?" They ask, a mocking, yet sweet enough of a smile erupting from their lips. "Today hasn’t even properly started yet."

"I can’t deny fatigue," You chuckle out, lifting your head up. "But it’s not like I’m planning to do lesser shifts today."

"…Yeah." The co-worker trailed out, your eyes deciding to follow where their eyes lingered - and that was on your lover himself, Dostoevsky.

You don’t let your jealousy start, knowing Fyodor wasn’t easy to lure over if they ever tried to steal him. But you do ask, "Something wrong?" curious.

"…Say, did you never find my sudden approach to you weird?" They ask after a second or two, turning their head to face you. They’re right… you kind of just took the offer up like it was nothing but a request. While you do get a lot of money, and a very frequent favorite customer, their question did make you think properly.

"…No? Well, now I’m hooked. Why did you ask?" You bring up, slightly scooting your chair closer to them. "I take it that my ‘attractiveness’ isn’t the only reason?" You add, a soft smile implying your joke.

They laughed quietly, placing their elbows on the table. "Don’t discard your charm like that. Though.. if you really want to know why I suddenly asked you a few weeks ago, you might want to ask that to Mr. Fyodor himself."

…

Mr. Fyodor?

Why were they suddenly referring to Fyodor formally? As if they were a member of Fyodor’s—

"…Oh.." Your voice only rang out, cheeks almost able to flash red in an instant of your realization. Did he plan this all along..?

"..Pft, he’s right." Your co-worker smiled, resting their cheek on their palm. "Your reaction would be funny to see."

"Oh— be quiet." You sighed out, rolling your eyes but in a way playful as they ‘accidentally’ dart to Fyodor himself. He didn’t seem to notice the chat, eyes focused on the cup of tea you prepared for him. But.. you just knew.

With that smile that was on his face, you knew.

"I know it was you who planned it all, Fyodor." You frowned after taking a rather sloppy seat on your couch, eyes following him as he sits down on it gracefully - very contrasting from yours. You hear his chuckle, "They told you, am I right?" referring to the barista earlier.

"They did, after weeks of you two keeping it a secret." You huffed out, crossing your arms a bit while you sit up properly. "But knowing you, maybe half of my co-workers knew too just so they can share you what kind of things I’ve been doing."

"My, little mouse. Don’t mistaken me for some creep.." Fyodor said with a voice that you could mistake as if he was genuinely hurt, but only a soft laugh escapes you at his tone.

You see his body move closer to you, his hand gently taking one of yours as he slides his fingers to your wrist, forming your hand into a lazy fist as he leaned in to press a set of soft kisses on your knuckles. The gesture makes your cheeks pink up.

"Is it bad to want an update from my sweetheart, when they’re so eager and excited to work at a cafe I’ve taken interest to?" Fyodor whispers, his breath tickling your hands that makes you escape little giggles underneath that blinking and flushed look. "I knew your initial plan, and I didn’t see any harm in making it happen. In fact, perhaps more good than bad come out of this, wouldn’t you think, my dear?"

quite the long post ^^) so sorry for my inactivity again, our classes had to change into online modality and it’s really hard. thank you for taking the time.

[gingerlurk]

Lovers' Crest | Chapter 8: The Heist

Din Djarin x f!Reader

Masterlist

Summary: The plan really isn’t all that complicated. It’s just wildly dangerous and leaves plenty to chance…

Word count: 4.3k

Warnings: 18+ MDNI, slow burn, non-canon (the Razor Crest never gets destroyed, it also gets upgraded with a cabin), canon-typical violence, eventual smut/filth, post season 3, canon-typical violence, dry humping if you squint, loads of action, cliffhanger.

A/N: Thank you for reading!

--

Torre is ninety percent sure she is in love with that tin can buzzkill, though it perplexes him why. He’s also completely certain that it is reciprocated and knows the two of them haven’t admitted it to each other. If even to themselves.

The argument was an interesting listen. She’s just as emotionally repressed now as back then, unwilling or unable to accept any kind of esteem that isn’t coated in caveats and conditions. She also can’t stand having her intentions misunderstood.

He’s ninety percent sure, but he’s decided to shoot his shot anyway.

Start with touch, he thinks to himself, but go easy. It’s her primary love language, which is why she resists it so often. But she’s caught up in the job, letting him brush a hand on an elbow or pressing shoulders as they work. His hope is that it reaches into her subconscious and connects to what they used to have. It’s still in there; he can feel it. It’s why he’s letting go of the past, for her and what you two had.

‘You know, hon,’ he sighs, leaning his head on the wall by the panel she’s working at. ‘I was already watching you in that cantina, sitting in that booth with the weird green kid?’

‘Torre,’ she grits through the phase driver in her teeth. ‘Tryin’ t’concentrate.’

‘Oh please, you could do that in your sleep.’ He gets more comfortable. ‘I don’t think I’d actually recognised you at that point, but you still drew me in. Something you carry, dove. Something in you. I was honest to gods working up to go over to talk to you, before I even knew it was you…’ 

Torre touches her elbow, mutters her name. ‘What are the odds, huh? The same bar? The same day? After all this time? It must have been meant to be.’

A crackle from the panel and the lock cycles. She just gathers her tools and moves.

‘Another down, four to go,’ she says, waits for the hatch to slide and slips through. He ducks in behind her, crowding her subtly, and it hushes closed again. She doesn’t pause, just strides ahead.

Have patience, Torre tells himself. Pick your moment. He follows.

--

Din stews in anger, worry and regret.

Anger at Torre, as he’d watched him on the system vision move about you and take every excuse to touch you. Worry about the inbound smallcraft, detected on the scope moments after you’d dropped into the shield deck where comms were cut. Whatever that ship was, it wasn’t part of the plan.

And regret, a potent and searing regret that set in almost the second you’d turned away from him and marched off into the throws of the heist. It had doused him hard. Why had he done that? Accused you like that? Said all that after, to agree to partner with you, he’d made you share maybe your worst memory. Bare yourself to him. And it hadn’t even been to persuade him to let you work with him. He was already going to say yes. But he just wanted to know.

So he’d asked you. And you’d told him. And then he’d gone and used it to hurt you.

He wants to settle into mentally lashing himself but has to push it aside for now. Because this inbound craft is setting alarm bells to screaming in his mind and hot panic to washing through his body. He thinks he knows that beacon.

And he can’t fucking warn you because the treasury had obliterated comms with some kind of scramble set up around where the shields were housed. He’s not even sure you’ve noticed. Torre hadn’t told either of you that you’d lose channels on the shield deck, and Din had foolishly missed it, too clouded by rage and jealousy and… hurt.

It was R5 who’d spotted it. Too late to do anything about it though, and Din had thumped the console so hard the nervous droid had bleeped and whirred up a frenzy.

Now, he glares at the readings cascading around him, and decides.

He pulls up the ship holo on his vambrace. It’s not the live one, but he can still plot a direct line. Fuck any patrols he runs into. He has to get to you. Din lays down a litany of orders at the still chattering droid as he whirls from his chair and storms out of the cockpit.

--

You near your final door, ducking into a small alcove to await a passing patrol. By your own inner orientation, you’re roughly below and one corridor over from the first lock you’d passed. It’s taken forever but you’d met no company at all.

You’re almost impressed with Torre on this one. Then a hand lands on the small of your back and the impatience returns. You want this over. Want back on the Crest so you can apologise to Mando and tell him exactly how you feel, about everything.

The slap of several dozen boots echoes by. Quiet again, you move to the panel and get to work. Despite Torre’s claim you could do it sleeping, the procedure to circumvent the security is fiddly as shit.

Once you lightsaw into the doorplate, you have to find the surge protector unit – designed to accept any excess electrical load – and set your decoder keys to build your cypher. You have to watch both carefully at the same time, because once the surge opens, it is a matter of seconds to reroute the power flow and slip the interlocking latches over your fabricated code.

Then you wrench the lot free and it’s Torre’s job to jam a reseal protocol into the opening. It gives you three seconds to get through, before its locked tight again.

But you’d gotten quicker at it with the mandatory practice and it’s not taking long. You’re running the keys steadily, caught up in the sensation of mechanical parts moving to your will, when you hear an unexpected sound that makes your blood run cold.

Boots. Heavy, rapid boots thundering down a corridor to your right. Straight toward you. Torre hears it and swears.

He turns to you. ‘Shit, another patrol?’ his eyes are wild, uncontrolled. A different side of him. ‘We have to move!’

You don’t answer, trying to focus on getting this damn door open so you can escape whatever is about to barrel into your stowaway party.

‘Hurry up!’ he barks. It does not help. You drop your phase driver and swear.

‘Shut up,’ you say. But the sound of boots smacking the deck is getting closer and Torre is panicking next to you. He pulls a detonator from a pocket and readies it.

‘What the hells are you—’ you start right as he says, ‘Time’s up,’ and moves to toss it at the rear archway. With one hand still decoding the lock, you reach to grab it off him. But you’re too clumsy and, just as the lock gives way and the door clips open for its programmed few seconds, the bomb skitters to the side, beeps increasing.

Despite all that, you don’t duck through the door. Because in that moment the thundering footsteps round the corner – and it’s not a guard. You twist from your escape route and stare, hearing the lock engage again behind you and Torre cursing from the other side. 

‘Fuck! Shit!’ Calling your name. But you’re lunging into the vicinity of the explosion.

‘Mando!’ you shout. ‘Look o—’ He’s barrelling into you, arms raised to your head, just as the hallway erupts.

Deafening and painful reverb knocks you senseless as you tumble in every conceivable direction. Battered from every side, you try to just tuck yourself inwards and wait for the blackness to wipe you out.

It all stops suddenly and through the ringing cacophony, you assess where you are at.

You’re flat on your back, legs akimbo and elbows tucked in, hands pressed into the hard surface above you. Through blurry vision, it looks to you like part of the ceiling has caved in. You take a second to wonder why you aren’t being crushed to death when a deep throb in your cunt snaps you into focus.

Mando is on top of you, arms braced by your head and whole body straining to hold up the debris across his back. Your hands are flat against his cuirass, legs spread around his hips, and your now pulsing centre is pressed directly into his groin.

His helmet is by your ear and you are assailed by harsh pants and grunts pouring into you. He shifts some and the applied pressure sparkles on your clit.

What the fuck is wrong with you? You blink hard and shake yourself, trying to focus on the direness of the situation and not on how good this feels. Trying to not writhe and press yourself into him. Mando grunts your name and you die a little.

He says it again and then, ‘Can you-- can you move?’

‘Uh-’ you wiggle a little, oh fuck it’s unbearable. You flex your feet and find a small bit of purchase. ‘Yeah, I think so.’

‘Can you slide out and push this off me? I- I can’t shift without it toppling further.’ He can’t possibly have a clue what he’s doing to you, because as he adjusts the bearing of his arms, he presses himself harder into the apex of your thighs. You can’t stop yourself and cry out, even whine a little. ‘Shit, are you hurt?’  

‘A- ah, no, no, I don’t think so. It’s just, j-just so tight,’ you all but whimper.

‘I’m gonna try to lift some, then you move, okay?’ He’s making small movements again and you’re absolutely spare. ‘On three, okay?’

‘Okay, okay,’ you’re pressing your head into the solid floor and trying to will yourself out of this exquisite feeling. The man’s suffering, for gods’ sake. This is so wrong. 

‘One, two… three!’ He bears down on you for one second and you grit your teeth as hard as you can as an unbidden but forceful orgasm rushes through you. You try to make your ‘Hhhnnnh,’ sound like the effort of moving. 

As he lifts himself, you push and shimmy across the floor, wriggling up and up Mando’s body and feeling every single inch where you make contact sizzle with lust.

‘Good, you’re doing good,’ Mando is saying between heavy breaths and fuck you wish he’d stop. ‘Almost there.’ 

Sliding free, you pivot onto your knees and crouch low to get a shoulder under the panelling that had trapped the two of you.

‘On three again,’ you pant, sounding unnatural and husky to your own ears. You count in and heave upwards, your pleasure-frazzled body making a clumsy effort. But between the two of you, there’s enough give to let Mando scramble out. He gets free just as you drop the heavy weight. He orients himself and sits, facing away from you, to heave deep breaths.

He lays a hand on the floor and looks over his shoulder, ‘You okay?’

You, resting on your knees and heels, huff out a near crazed laugh. 

‘Yeah,’ you say, unable to keep the panting from your response. ‘Thanks.’

You both take a moment to let your breathing even out, which bounces around the demolished corridor in a way you find intoxicating. You’re just closing your eyes to let it sink into you when reality floods back in.

‘Shit!’ you say, leaping to your feet. You lunge at the doorway Torre had vanished through. He’s gone, nothing on the other side but a silent passageway. ‘That fucker.’ 

Mando steps up behind you. ‘He’s the least of our problems,’ he mutters, right in your ear again. 

You will yourself to calm down, turning to him. ‘What’s--?’

‘Another ship is docking, probably boarding by now,’ he says, moving to the side of the door and checking your handiwork. ‘How long will this last?’

‘Well,’ you say, motioning at the timer on your bracer. ‘It’s supposed to hold until we’re off this ship, but…’ you trail off, feeling lost and self-conscious as the plan falls apart. 

But Mando is moving into action, he punches at his own wrist and the entire ship winks into existence across his forearm. You stare at it.

‘How did you…?’ you ask.

‘Downloaded it off Torre’s terminal while he was distracted,’ he says. The while flirting brazenly with you part goes unspoken.

You just mutter a small ‘nice,’ and move in to look at the map.

‘Here,’ you point. ‘We can circle back on this path and get to the vault.’ Mando’s head snaps up at you.

‘What?’ he hisses. ‘No, we are getting off this ship now.’ He swipes a hand across the map so it whizzes to the Crest, then marks it as a waypoint. He starts to move off but you grab his elbow. Electricity crackles against your palm and when he spins back to you, he’s so close again you can hear his breathing.

‘We’re so close,’ you say, unsure why you can’t let go of this mission. ‘This new ship doesn’t change the fact you have to get that beskar back. Does it?’ He stands rigid in front of you.

Confused by Mando’s indecision, you just try to look imploring. He takes you in. You know it’s completely impossible, but you feel like his face is softening. Into a tenderness. And a hunger. Like he’s drinking you down, taking all of you. It draws you back to what it felt like when you were underneath him. 

It becomes too much, so you drop your gaze. ‘Please,’ you whisper. ‘We have to try, right?’

He seems to give in, lifts the ship map again. You realise you’re still gripping his elbow and let go so he can reset the waypoint.

‘This way, then,’ he says, moving with you.

Sprinting down the corridor, you can see the vault door wide open, jolting back and forth against an armoured guard’s crumpled body. You and Mando skid to a halt at the entrance and see Torre on his knees, shoving credits and precious metals into a satchel. He looks up.

‘Hey!’ he straightens, has the gall to look relieved. ‘You made it! Sweet. Hey, Mando.’

You move to lay into him but Mando shoves past you and, with a yelp from Torre, lifts your ex-heist partner by the lapels and shoves him into a row of lockboxes. Torre paws at his arms and kicks weakly before finding some composure. 

‘Hey now, hey!’ he tries for purchase against the shelves, lifts himself some to avoid choking. ‘We can still finish this together – I have the code for the escape pods, remember?’

You step up beside the two of them, start nudging at the pockets you can reach on Torre.

‘I’m sure we can handle that ourselves,’ you say, enjoying yourself for a moment.

‘No! No, no, no,’ he pants. ‘Same deal- same deal at before, locked- to me, only me. Look!’ eyes to the side, ‘there’s your prize! I’ve got it all ready to go. Look!’ His knuckles are white against Mando’s armour and his eyes are rolling back.

But you and Mando look and see a satchel sitting open, the beskar bars stacked neatly inside.

You sneer. ‘You were gonna take it, weren’t y—’ You’re cut off by Mando dropping him to the ground. ‘What’re you?’ But you notice the urgent beeping of R5 coming from his vambrace. Mando checks it and twists to grab the satchel, throwing it over a shoulder.

‘Time to go,’ he commands.

You don’t question it, just follow, sensing Torre get to his feet, grab the loot and stumble after you.

With the timing thrown out and your path interrupted by Torre’s stupidity, there’s no choice but to confront a patrol to get to your escape.

As the three of you charge a squad of ten, you can’t help dropping a sarcastic ‘so much for fast and quiet,’ into Torre’s ear. He returns a shrug and smile, misreading your state.

‘Fun though?’ he says as he expertly grapples a stunned fighter and locks their airway before shoving them aside.

You roll your eyes, ducking into a forward tumble on the floor to twist up another solider at the knees with your feet, pushing the stumbling figure into Torre to execute the same move.

A rough hand on your shoulder yanks you up and you start for a second. But it lets go with a yelp. You turn to see Mando slamming the grabber into the wall so hard it leaves a dent there. He lifts the limp body and hurls it into two others.

You move to his back, pressing shoulder blades to cover his six while he douses the two stumbling figures with a gout of flame. A guard moves in to assault you with the sparking tip of his weapon and you reach your arms up, gripping Mando’s shoulders and lifting your feet. He braces you easily so you can plant one foot hard into the on-comer’s chest as the other toes at the weapon to force it into his face. His forward momentum and absolute surprise at the move lets the electric current catch him fully. He jolts and crumples. 

Just as the body hits the deck, Torre ducks in and grabs the baton, taking it up and – with a flourish – landing it home in the centre mass of another assailant.

Mando shoves you around. Confused for a second, it evaporates as you hear the familiar sound of blaster fire glancing off beskar. You grab his arm to look around and see the three final squad members hunched in the edges of an archway, weapons free.

Mando backs you up, up, until you have cover.

‘Stay down for a sec, okay?’ he says. He waits for your nod. Then he turns back to the onslaught, tugging detonators off his belt. You spot a downed foe feet from you and risk a hasty scramble to take up its blaster, trying to lay down cover fire.

You notice Torre on the other side of your arch, doing the same thing. He glances at you with a ‘what’s his play?’ look but you just focus back on the stalking shape of Mando. He takes a ruthless amount of firepower before leaping forward, hurling the hot little devices into the feet of the enemy.

An ear-splitting bang fills the hall with smoke. You huddle for a second before a hand is at your shoulder, offering you an arm up. You take it and get to your feet, a quip on the tip of your tongue before you see it’s Torre holding your hand.

‘Nice,’ he huffs. ‘Quite the team, aren’t we?’

You tug your hand back just as Mando emerges from the smoke to step flush with the two of you. 

‘We’re running out of time,’ he says.

‘Let’s go then,’ you say, laying a hand on his elbow as you move past. Mando reciprocates with a palm between your shoulders, where you’d leaned your weight into him mere moments before. He may as well be consuming your entire body.

You will the feeling aside for later and dash pass the three incinerated bodies.

It’s a few minutes of running and pivoting, following Mando’s barked commands of ‘left!’, ‘ahead!’, ‘third corridor!’ before you sense that you’re finally nearing the escape vessels.

‘Straight on, then right!’ he shouts.

Nearly out of here.

But you round the bend to find company waiting. Yet another troop stood staunch and ready.

Torre turns, ‘Shit! Where’s he gone!’

You look around and feel a flash of panic as you don’t see Mando. He’s no longer with you. He was here a second ago! Confused and distressed, you whip back to take in the eight menacing bodies of armour – half with blasters trained on you, the other half readying shock batons. With no choice, you raise your arms. Maybe you can buy some time t--

The Mandalorian strides around the corner at the opposite end of the passageway, taking them at the rear in the span of a heartbeat. All eight guards zero in on him like filings to a magnet. They’re barking orders and unleashing a hellish assault as Mando whips up a tempest.

And it’s like they’ve completely forgotten about you.

Before you can move, Torre grabs your arm and drags you to an escape hatch. The doors of each one are stood wide thanks to his programming. You wrench out of his grasp and shoot daggers at him, ‘What are you d--?'

‘Come with me!’ Torre holds out a hand with one foot inside the pod. Booty slung across his shoulder and blue eyes sparkling with his plea. In the flickering light he looks just like the boy you knew.

You look with panic to Mando, who is holding one guard in an elbow hold while another pummels his back and shoulders. He grunts and hurls the first, now limp, body into the others. He twists around to find where you are, spotting the scene of you standing next to Torre with his arm stretched toward you.

‘He’ll be fine, just come! Come now!’

It’s enough. The split second of distraction the sight brings is enough to let an attacker jam a shock prod into Mando’s side. He convulses and drops to a knee. A second jab with the rod and he slumps. 

‘No!’ You sprint toward the skirmish, faintly hearing the hiss and click of the pod latch behind you. You slow only to tug a blaster out of a felled guard’s hand.

Mando is on his hands and knees and you use the clear path to land shots on two of them. As one body begins to drop you drive into it with all your force, scattering the three remaining who trip and stumble out of the way.

Scrambling to the disoriented form of your partner, you get an arm under his and heave him toward another hatch standing open, kicking the satchel of beskar ahead of you. The weight and strain pulls the muscles of your hip and sides, which all start screaming in protest. You’re about to collapse when that thing you fear grows inside you and pushes against the strain. 

You let it, feeling the inhuman power drag you forwards.

Mando is through the door and shoved into a seat and the beskar is hurled in behind. All you have to do is throw yourself in there too and somehow get the latch closed—

A hard, metal arm hooks around your throat and drags you backwards. You try to grip the door jam but whatever created that furnace inside you has snuffed out and you flail in vain as you’re pulled from the pod.

In that one desperate second, you make a choice.

You grip the guard’s forearm and tighten it against your neck, throwing him off balance just enough to lift both feet in the air and slam a heel into the control panel, launching the pod. Through the stars that erupt across your vision, you briefly glimpse your Mandalorian sit up and lunge for the door, but it’s already falling away from the side of the ship.

A searing pain screams out of your shoulder, against your neck, and everything goes black.

--

He doesn’t even reach the door before the little emergency vessel lurches into an unstable spin and Din has to stagger back into the control seat, needing to push all thought of you aside. Not for long though.

Gripping the controls he strains against the torque, dangling precariously to the side for a second as the pod sways against the ignition thrusters. After a brief, stomach-churning struggle, he manages to nudge the thrust into stable motion. 

He jams on the comms, the image of you being yanked away flooding back in.

‘R5, do you copy!’ he yells. The beep of binary comes back instantly.

‘I’m sending a vessel code. Find me and set its coordinates to the new rendezvous I’m transmitting now, then meet me there.’

Affirmative nonsense chirps back and Din feels the small craft’s momentum change from aimless plummeting to following a clear trajectory.

He collapses back and tries to settle his ragged breathing. His pounding heart. Nothing to do now but wait.

Din crashes into the tiny villa with ferocious intent, but he’s too late. The data table lies empty, the input panel smashed to smithers. Torre has already been here, and he’s made damn sure to cover his tracks. Din glances to the side and sees your final discarded meal, cold and congealing like so much desperation.

He gives himself one second to slam a fist into the wall. Then he notches the scanner on his visor and takes in the surroundings, stalking back into the street. The town is too busy to make out any genuine set of tracks. He could try to—

Wait. What is he doing anyway? He doesn’t want to find Torre. He needs to find you.

But that treasury, after an incursion like their heist, would have changed course by now. Its security protocols are taking it far out of Din’s reach. He could track it down eventually, but what would happen to you while he does that? What’s happening to you right now? He fights despair, feels it rising to drown him. With every passing second, he is less and less able to stop it.

He kicks himself. Just do something. Go get Grogu, that’s the first step. Do that and then figure out the next…

He thinks of his son. A wild, desperate idea comes to him and he sprints in the direction of the Crest.

--

Prev | Next

******

Yeah so I stole Din's moves from the show, but I figure they worked for him then, so why wouldn't he use them again?

[ladytauria]

**KNOCKS THE DOOR DOWN**

27!!!! For the WIP game thingy

hehehe

(jaytim) empty promises p. 2

a sequel to this prompt! (inspired by you, lmao; the sad animal pics won me over xD)

which, to summarize, tim & jason have a big fight… and before it’s resolved, jason gets called to do a job with roy. it’s going to be a sort of 3+1 fic, focusing on 3 phone calls they share before jason comes home. the first two calls are written and now i’m stumped lmao

there’s… a lot i’d like to share; i’m pretty proud of what i’ve got but, um… have a snippet from phone call #2

Tim tries to ignore the way his heart softens. “How’s progress?” he asks instead. The words are sour in his mouth. Work is… easier. He wishes it wasn’t. But he doesn’t know how to talk to Jason with this thing between them—and he doesn’t want to talk about it like this. Over the phone, with hundreds of miles separating them.

Jason hums. “In a minute,” he says. “Have you eaten yet today?”

“Not recently,” Tim says. He had a granola bar like, an hour ago. And he’s been munching on trail mix while he plays. So, not entirely the truth, but he wants to know where Jason is going with this.

“I was thinking, ah. Maybe we could eat together?” Jason offers, hesitantly. “I was just about to dive into some leftovers, and I thought… maybe…” He trails off, and then laughs, self-deprecatingly. “S’kinda stupid, I guess.”

“No,” Tim says, immediately. “No, it’s— That sounds nice, actually. Do… Did you want to switch to video?” He has some leftover takeout he didn’t finish last night. He’d ordered their usual on automatic, and, well. He could eat a lot, but not quite that much.

“Yeah. Yeah, that sounds good.”

Tim warms up his food before settling at the dinner table. Through the tinny phone speaker, he can hear Jason doing the same, and it warms him, despite himself. When Jason is ready, they hang up. Tim props his phone up, accepting the video call request from Jason.

The screen is heavily pixelated at first, but soon, the graininess clears away to show Jason. Tim can’t make out any details about the room he’s in; not on such a tiny screen. But he can see the man himself—looking tired, a little worn, but… He’s smiling, too. There’s a nervous edge to it, but. It’s sincere.

He finds himself smiling back, wondering if he looks as tired and lonely as he feels. “Hey,” he says, more softly than he means.

“Hey,” Jason repeats, his tone the same.

For a minute they just sit there and look at each other.

Then Jason swallows, and says, “You—uh. You asked about the job?”

He almost takes it back—asks Jason how he’s been sleeping, instead; if he reaches for Tim in his sleep the same way Tim has been reaching for Jason. He almost tells him to forget the job, forget the argument. Just come home.

Almost.

“Yeah,” he says. “I did.”

[ wip ask game ]

[eremorte]

Badwolf’s graduation day

So recently I’ve been thinking about the last episode of ever after high. Specifically the scene where Professor Badwolf warns his daughters about being too obvious about their heritage/relationship, and then follows up with

“Until graduation our family must remain secret.”

This makes no sense to me. What is he still worried about?

At this point in the series the Story Book of Legends is revealed to be a macguffin that is more symbolic than anything as if his family exsisting for roughly two decades wasn’t enough proof (I’m including his relationship with Red in this).

What, pray tell, changes for Ramona and Cerise between that argument and graduation? I’m sure the radical youth of ever after royalty will probably write a few new laws in place to be more just (or the commoners demand it) but ultimately it’s the same rule book pre/post graduation day.

Cerise has been at school the whole time and has befriended a lot of people (list below) despite her supposedly withdrawn persona. (Which I imagine is more a product of familial conditioning than what she would be like if she was allowed to breath) including literal royalty which should have an impact on how safe her family is if they were to every travel outside of the dark forest.

In no particular order Cerise has befriended🫂/cordial with 😊/knows her family secret 🐺 with the following:

Raven queen 👑🫂🐺

Cedar wood🫂

Madeline hatter 🫂🐺 (and her dad)

Lizzie hearts 👑😊 (spring unsprung)

Hunter huntsman 😊

The charming trio 👑😊🫂 (Darling and Daring both have a respect for Cerise and their own reasons to sympathize with her cause. Dexter would be fine regardless of how cannon the cerise and the beast book is)

Briar beauty 👑😊 (diaries)

Rosabella beauty 👑🫂 (doll box)

Ginger breadhouse 🫂 (doll box)

Jillian beanstalk 🫂 (Doll box)

Tiny 😊 (also the fee fi go fum deal has me believing that he knows Cerise’s secret but doesn’t say anything)

Kitty Cheshire 😊🐺 (I remember photos from epic winter which make them out to be friends, but like ehhh)

dishonorable mention: Blondie lockes 😊 (diaries and epic winter).

Idk how widely spread out everyone is due to the show not elaborating on what the kingdom borders are (if mentioned in the books I have since forgotten) but that shouldn’t matter much. And while Badwolf and Cerise might not get the chance to catch up all that much I’m pretty sure he’d be aware of at least Raven, Cedar Rosabella, and Ginger. Raven has a lot of power behind her and would be willing to go to bat for Cerise if for whatever reason some other royal Royalty has control over hood hollow and wanted to be petty and cruel about the hood/Badwolf union.

Why would they really need to care that much about all the other kingdoms knowing? Are they known to be this unhinged? This line also implies to me that the events of Unfairest of them (book) all haven’t happened in the show which is fine I don’t remember that many events from the series I am aware of discrepancies between cannon and IMO show wins out. But if they had they begrudgingly accept Cerise and Ramona.

The last obstacle I can think of is Milton. But that man fell into obsolescence that Spirng Unsprung if not Thronecoming he doesn’t appear to make anymore threats about destiny though I understand if his presence still holds weight.

I also refuse to believe that the events of way too wonderland SBOL being split up weren’t broadcast absolutely everywhere.

The only reason I can think of is selfish preparation on part of both red and badwolf. Like they can’t adjust their plans or badwolf is planning to quit his job and they all plan to move somewhere else. (In the event show cannon wouldn’t have lined up with book cannon regarding hood hollow acceptance) Or maybe it’s connected to why Ramona got sent to the reform school?

if there are any details I missed or someone has an answer I’d be glad to hear it.

Edit: 3/19

Reread Unfairest of Them All specifically the section(s) on Hood Hollow and I was partially right. The family is kinda just waiting for Badwolf to feel confident enough to show off his family.

"I could loose my job for going off script, but even worse your mother and I could be banished along with you."-Badwolf (Chapter 8)

EXCUSE ME? His fears are valid even after the basket run trial but the guilt trip? Wouldn't it be better if all three of you went instead of just Cerise? And Cerise is completely fine with it. Red says nothing does she agree with him? She was crying her eyes out at the idea of her daughter dying by mob a few sentences ago.

[keithisbae1]

You Can Call Me Babe for the Weekend

CW: Angst

Their marriage was falling apart.

“Papa, look what Uncle gave me.” Sarada beamed showing the present Itachi gave to her.

But they didn’t want to ruin her Birthday, Sasuke was lucky he managed to get some time off. Last year he had missed her Birthday because he was on an ongoing mission, even though he had promised to be there. Sarada was four then and only gave a pouted teary look and rushed upstairs after screaming ‘you don’t love me’ when he came back. 

Sakura tried to reassure him how she didn’t mean those words and was still young but he could tell his disappearance even began to affect her.

‘You don’t need to accept every mission. I understand that you have more responsibility now-’ 

‘If you understood then you would know why I can’t turn them down. Besides, I’m one of the best and can get the job done quicker.’

‘But you’re missing so much of Sarada’s life… is all this really worth it?’ 

‘What would you understand? It’s not like you ever grew up in a clan.’ That was uncold for and he regretted those choice of words the moment he said it. Especially seeing her face fell, but before she could respond another little voice spoke out.

‘Mama, Papa why are you fighting?’ And that’s when Sarada came down worried of how weird her parents were acting. But rather than sit down and explain everything he got up and left.

Running away, just like how he always does leaving Sakura to pick up the pieces. 

Arguments like them would happen consistently until Sakura had enough and told him she wanted a divorce. He wasn’t the Sasuke-Kun she loved but for now they agreed to keep it quiet and acted normally until they could find the time to speak to Sarada about the situation. 

‘It’s for the best.’ The elders and some of his clan agreed. To some degree, he knew he was purposely being set up. None of them had ever approved of their relationship.

But how could he say such a thing when his actions proved otherwise. 

Sasuke smiled bending down to pat her on the head. When Sarada went to show her mother in the other room Itachi came in seeing the look of defeat on his brother’s face.

“It’s not too late.”

“She wants a divorce.”

“Then fight for her.” Why did he make it sound so easy? 

“You know going against them is not that simple.” He could walk out, he could but that would also mean he would be outcasted by the rest of the clan and that would make all his hard work be for nothing.

“It’s either that or you lose your wife and daughter. That’s hardly a decision to think about.”

Then again, what did that matter? Nothing he did was ever considered good enough, he was always compared to Itachi and as such they expected so much from him.

Only for what? Nothing.

Maybe it was easy.

“Sakura won’t forgive me that easily.” 

“You’ll find a way, just put them first.”

He still had to prove himself, to Sakura and his daughter but he’ll fight for them.

[specialagentlokitty]

Saul Silva x reader - takes time

Heyy💕 I know you’re currently not taking requests but when you have time please silva x reader… flinching in argument bc readers bad past - Anon 💜

TW: mentions of abusive ex

Sitting on the bed, you looked at the man who was pacing up and down your room and you sighed a little bit.

“Look Saul, I’m sorry but there’s nothing I can do, it’s out of my hands.”

“You could say no!”

“I can’t! You know that! It’s not as simple as turning around and refusing!”

You stood up and glared at your boyfriend a little bit.

“Why are you so angry about this?!”

“Because it means I won’t see you for months! I won’t know if you’re okay or not!” Saul yelled.

He turned around and looked at you and you sighed.

“I know and I’m sorry. But it’s my job Saul.”

“Then quit! Be a full time teacher with me, please?”

You shook your head.

“I’m sorry. But no. I wanted this job my whole life, I.. I have to take it.”

“And what about me?! Everything we said we’d do?!”

“We’ll still do it!”

“What if you die huh?! Then what?! What do I do (Y/N)!?”

You crossed your arms over your chest and looked at him.

“Why can’t you just be happy for me?!” You yelled.

Saul took a few steps closer, and you watched him carefully as he took a few deep breaths to try and calm himself.

“I have been on about this for months, if you had an issue with it why only bring it up now? Huh?!”

“I… I don’t know..”

“You do. You do know. So tell me!”

Saul threw his arms up in the air, and instinctively you flinched, eyes closed tightly, head turned to the side and hands balled into fists by your side.

Saul looked down at you and his eyes widened as he took a few steps back away from you.

“I.. I wasn’t going to hurt you.. you know I wouldn’t hurt you…” he whispered.

You took a small breath and opened your eyes, looking at him.

“I know you wouldn’t I’m sorry…”

You slowly sank back down to sit on the bed and Saul gestured to do.

“Can I come over or would you feel better if I stayed over here?”

“No. No Saul come here please?”

He nodded and sat down, and you reached out, hesitating before you took his hand, and he laced your fingers together.

“Why did you flinch…? You don’t have to tell me if you’re not comfortable.”

“No, you deserve to know.”

You sighed heavily.

“Before I met you I… I had a boyfriend, been together for years in fact. I thought he was the love of my life it was so… perfect…”

Saul shuffled around to look at you better.

“One day we were arguing.. he uh.. he hit me..”

Saul clenched his jaw.

“It progressed after then.. he’d hit me over the littlest things. It took years before I could bring myself to leave him.. and I came here.”

“That’s why you wouldn’t accept my offers to go on a date at first…” he whispered.

You nodded your head slowly.

“It’s why I do a lot of things I do. I.. I know you would never, ever raise a hand to be Saul. I know you wouldn’t but I guess that fear is burned into me…”

Saul reached up his other hand, but he hesitated so you reached out and placed his hand on your face, leaning into his touch.

“I’m so sorry…”

“It’s not your fault…”

“Maybe not, but I’m still sorry. I want you to know if you ever feel scared, or worried, just let me know okay?”

You nodded your head and he ran his thumb along your cheek, bringing your other hand up he kissed your knuckles.

“If your ex ever comes near you again I will personally deal with him. No one should ever raise their hands to another, especially not to you.”

You smiled a little.

“I’m sorry I flinched..”

Saul sighed, moving closer he wrapped his arm around your shoulder and pulled you into his side, kissing the top of your head.

“Don’t apologise for flinching, how about whenever he start to argue we both walk away, okay? That why you don’t have to be scared.”

“Okay. Yeah, I like that idea.”

“Alright, it’s a deal then.”

You smiled as you felt him wrap his arms around you and hold you against his chest.

He made you feel safe, and respected, and recovery was a long road, but it was easier with Saul by your side.

You had know him for a while now, and you had never once seen him raise his hand in anger, but you knew you’d always have those fears

[cherryeol04]

Action! | Ch. 13

Genre: Humor, Romance, Slice of life?, Crackheadedness

Pairings: BaekRen, MinRon

Work Count: 1.7K

Summary:  From the moment he was casted, Ren wasn't sure if he had what it would take to be a pop idol. Losing faith in himself, he was going to give up the future he had always wanted, but one person stood by his side and renewed his faith. After a hot debut and rapid growth of stardom, Ren started to notice that maybe this person, his close friend, was something more. But how could a straight man even remotely think of a homosexual relationship?

Warnings: Homophobia, some smut (chapters will be marked)

A/N: I wrote this series back in 2012 and used OCs and over the top writing style for arguments. Whoops. Lmao it’s pretty decent though, so I hope you enjoy!

↶Previous     Next↷

Ren’s POV

It didn’t really come as a big shock to me when the announcement was made. Adrian-hyung and his members spent a month with us, helping us practice. And even after our comeback with Action, they still hung around, willing and ready to help us. It was wonderful to have a group that was so willing to teach us in such a competitive industry. There had been hints, signs that I saw Minhyun exhibit before that Adrian-hyung had exhibited while helping us.

So when he finally came clean, nothing really changed. Some of them were shocked, but not me, not Minhyun. We were accepting. I don’t know why, but I just felt like I couldn’t judge him. I hadn’t known right off the bat, so I had time to get to know Adrian-hyung. His announcement of being gay didn’t change anything for me, because he was still my friend, my hyung and I looked up to him.

His explanation as to why he came out, it was heartwarming in a way.

~*~*~

“Alright, alright.” Adrian said, turning off the music. “Let’s take a break. Great job everyone for working so hard.” He praised. We gathered around and bowed to him in appreciation before moving off to get water and cool off.  We hadn’t been sitting  for too long when the other came over to us and sat down. Our bodies moved and we all made a circle.

“While we rest, I just want to tell you how much fun I’ve had working with you.” He said.

“Don’t say that.” JR said. “It sounds like you’re planning to leave us.”

“Yeah, don’t go.” Minhyun said.

“I won’t. You know hyung is just a call away.” Adrian said and laughed softly. “But, I’m not leaving. I say that because what I plan to say next may change how you all view me.” He said, motioning with his hands. Adrian was a very adamant talker, very animated.

“Nothing could change our view on you.” Baekho said. We all voiced our agreement. I sat there, nervous though. Adrian got such a serious look on his face and I was scared. He could confess he has a life threatening illness and was going to die. Or he was going to be moving away, or his band broke up or something.

“You say that now.” Adrian said and smiled weakly. “Just remember, I’ve always felt that no matter what, you should be honest not only with yourself, but to those who are very close to you. Keeping secrets is not something I like to do.” He explained. “That’s why I want to come clean. I hope afterwards we can all still be friends.”

“Always.” Aron said and patted Adrian’s thigh. The other nodded at him before looking down at the floor. He took a few deep breaths before raising his head again.

“I’m gay. I want you all to know this, because you may hear rumors about me and my group mates. None of them are true of course. I’m not dating any of them, but I do have a boyfriend and I wanted you to know this, so you don’t have questions and make rumors yourself if I ever brought him with me.” He said.

We were silent for a moment. What Adrian said was very personal, a private matter that he wanted to share with us, so we knew. And thinking back on it, he did some things that I’ve noticed Minhyun doing when around JR.  It was a shock, but in the end, I think I already saw this coming. At least he wasn’t dying.

“Thank you hyung.” I said, breaking the silence with a smile. He stared at me. “You’re very brave for saying this. And we appreciate you being honest with us. We would never make any sort of rumors about you, but now that you’ve cleared the air, there won’t be any awkward questions for the future.” I said.

“Yeah.” Baekho agreed and grinned. “Thanks for telling us. Just don’t check me out when we dance alright?” Adrian laughed and pushed the other, shaking his head.

“I have eyes for only one man, you’re all safe.” Adrian said and chuckled.

“How?” JR suddenly asked, staring at Adrian. “How can you say something like that? And how can you all just be so…accepting?” he asked.

“JR.” Minhyun whispered, brows furrowed, worriedly. “Why can’t we be accepting. He’s our hyung, our friend. We should support him.”

“Support him? On being gay? But how?! It’s…it’s wrong.” JR said.

“It’s not wrong.” Aron said. “People with closed minds think it’s wrong.” He said.

“Are you saying I have a closed mind?” JR asked.

“You’re certainly acting like it.” Our American friend said, glaring at the other.

“So are you gay too then Aron?” JR asked and frowned before he turned his gaze to Minhyun. “I bet you are aren’t you? That’s what that whole talk was about wasn’t it? Trying to feel me out?” he asked. I was confused about what he was saying at first. It had been a few months since that incident. But it came rushing back to me as I glanced at Minhyun’s hurt face.

“You like me or something? That’s gross Minhyun, you’re gross.” JR said and looked to Adrian. “And so are you!” he said before standing and marching from the room.

“Wow.” Adrian whispered, watching JR leave. “This is exactly why I said I think this is going to ruin how you all view me.”

“It doesn’t. He’s just not as open as the rest of us.” Baekho said and patted Adrian’s shoulder. “He just needs time.”

“Minnie?” Aron asked.

We all turned, eyes landing on our friend, watching as the tears fell from his eyes. I felt my heart breaking for the other. Reaching out, I wrapped my arms around him and pulled him close, rubbing his back gently.

“It’s alright Minhyun.” I whispered. “It’ll be alright.” I knew he wanted to protest, to say it wasn’t going to be alright. I wouldn’t blame him; I would probably say that too if I were in that situation. But he was just so worked up; he couldn’t make a sound but the sobs that left him.

“Minnie.” Aron whispered. He looked so in pain, watching Minhyun cry and I knew he was. He liked the other so much. And now, Minhyun’s crush had been brought to light and he had been so horribly rejected and shunned. It was painful and humiliating. He stood and moved around us. Crouching down, he reached out and rubbed his back a bit before pulling the other from me, towards him.

“It’s alright Minnie.” He said softly. “Let hyung take care of you.” He whispered. He pulled the other up and guided him from the room, leaving the three of us alone in our thoughts. The silence was deafening and my thoughts were just racing. I didn’t understand how JR could be so closed minded, how he could just openly hurt and humiliate not just a group member, but a friend.

“Don’t be upset with JR.” Adrian said, as if reading my thoughts. “Some people react differently to this sort of news. Most people come around eventually. If this is something he’s never had to deal with before, it’s going to shock him, upset him and even disgust him.” He said.

“But it shouldn’t. He shouldn’t treat friends like this.” I said and glared at the wall.

“Ren, he shouldn’t, but he can’t help it. For some, acting in such a way helps them cope. It pushes them away from everything, so they can take the time to sit back and wrap their head around the issue. If JR is truly a good leader, and a caring friend, he’ll come around. He may not like it, but he’ll tolerate it because he’ll still want to keep the friendship and the peace.” He said. “It’ll take some time though.”

Time…Time is not what we had going for us. And time ran out for JR the moment those words left his lips. How Minhyun is going to recover from this, I don’t know. But I do know my friend has four people who care a lot about him and would be there to help him through the grieving process.

Though we’ve lost time, in a way, only time will heal a broken heart.

~*~*~

“Hyung I want that one!” Minhyun said in his best aegyo voice.

“Hyung I want that one!” Aron pointed, doing his best aegyo voice.

“Hyung, I want that one!” Baekho said with his best aegyo voice, and unfortunately, it was a fail. I thought it was cute, how Aron and Minhyun were clinging to Adrian, coaxing the man to buy us food. But I didn’t feel that way as I watched Baekho do it. It was strange. I felt…jealous almost.

“I think you’re all just trying to mooch off of me.” Adrian teased and bopped Baekho on the nose lightly, making him laugh. I felt my blood run cold and this sudden wave a jealousy raced through me. I couldn’t stop myself (though I’m not sure I wanted to).  Moving over, I took hold of Baekho’s arm and nuzzled his shoulder, pouting cutely at him.

“Hyung never buys me anything.”

He stared at me, frozen in his spot. I thought maybe I had failed at my aegyo, but that was near impossible. I was feminine and I was the maknae, I was fucking cute! He laughed suddenly and leaned down, kissing my forehead.

“Rennie’s so cute.” He cooed. “Hyung will buy you something. What do you want?” he asked. I looked to the board, trying to ignore the blush on my cheeks.

“I want that.” I told him, pointing at the item.

“Okay.” He said and turned. “Hyung! Rennie wants that!” he said and pointed to the screen and I laughed. That kiss, for some reason just felt so different. It felt good. Why? Why was I feeling that way suddenly? Why was I jealous when someone else was playing with Baekho? What did this all mean?

I’m not sure, but I think I know who I can ask about it.

[alsjeblieft-zeg]

220 of 2023

Do you have a sensitive gag reflex?

No, I don’t. It takes much to make feel like throwing up.

Where are you the most ticklish?

I used to be ticklish everywhere, but now it’s mostly on the right side of my body.

Can you manage to tickle yourself?

It doesn’t work like that.

What was the last situation to upset you?

Someone worrying too much and exaggerating.

Have you ever had an online argument?

More than once, but now that I’m in my 30s, I don’t engage in it. Don’t feed the trolls, they say.

Do you like to listen to music while filling out surveys?

Sometimes. Often it’s the TV in the background.

Do you ever eat/drink while you fill them out?

Sometimes.

Have you ever done a survey whilst high or drunk? How’d it go?

No. Maybe drunk in the past, but not now.

Are you at risk for any medical issues?

Well, I do have the diagnosis of epilepsy, so your guess.

The general subject of your last text conversation?

My younger cat being a comedian.

Would you rather talk about heartbreak, or history?

History. While I suck at dates, I know some events. Talking about feelings is difficult for me, though.

Is there anything near you that’s considered dangerous?

I don’t know, kitchen knives?

What is just down the hall from where you’re located?

Down the hall??

Do you ever do surveys at other peoples’ houses?

No. I need my laptop for that and I don’t take it anywhere.

Do any of your friends know you fill out surveys?

No, they don’t even know.

What is your least favorite question to answer?

Anything about movies. And about shirts, because I usually don’t even wear them. And all the boring/repetitive questions.

Do you like the controversial/​political surveys?

I don’t mind them, but they’re not my favourite.

Do you tend to answer with only a phrase or word, or do you elaborate?

I elaborate when I have something to say.

Who/What did you last spend time worrying about?

My husband getting depressed over his job. Thankfulmly he has changed it to something he likes better.

Has anyone ever told you that you needed to get a life? Did you?

Yeah, but I already had more life than he did.

How long do you spend on the phone each day, on average?

An hour? Too much already.

What was the last thing you prepared in the oven?

Mini pizzas, I think.

How about in the microwave? Are you more likely to use this?

Pancakes and yes, I’m more likely to use the microwave because it’s faster.

Is anything in your hair right now, like gel, hairspray, &etc?

No, I washed it.

How do you typically style your hair? Does it take long?

I just put some gel on it. And it takes less than one minute.

Name something unusual located near to you?

Does my cat count?

Would you try to be a hero in a hostage situation?

Nobody can predict it.

When were you last offered something illegal?

Long time ago, but it wasn’t fully illegal.

Did you accept or decline that offer?

No.

When was the last time you were up before the sun?

Today. I get up at 8am for medication and in winter here, the sun rises around 9am.

What are you most confident about? Most insecure about?

Most confident about my job, most insecure about my body.  And maybe personality.

When are you most likely to say something you don’t mean?

When I’m sleepy.

When was the last time that you saw fire?

I don’t remember.

Do you like wearing sunglasses? Why or why not?

No, I just don’t like how they look. But my eyes are sensitive to the light, so.

What do you think in general of girls with short hair?

To each their own.

How about guys with long hair?

To each their own, but some long-haired guys are attractive.

Where’s the best place to get your favorite dish?

The city of Ghent.

When are you most likely to fill out a survey?

At the evening.

What’s the last thing you put in your mouth?

Medication.

Last person you rode in a car with under the age of 20?

My husband’s son, he’s almost 17.

Last time you walked further than a block?

Every single day. I’m in a different city every day and I walk a lot.

Can you play guitar hero?

No and I’m not interested.

Name the last person that made you laugh?

My husband.

What brand of digital camera do you own?

Canon, but I also use my phone as it has an awesome camera.

If you could move somewhere else, would you?

Not necessarily, but I’d love to have the house here and in my hometown.

Have you ever seen somebody get shot?

No. It’s a rarity in Europe.

Where are you at right now?

On the couch in our living room.