#big radish head

[rosachae]

existentialism | karina x reader

⁍ song: bleed - malcom todd, omar apollo ⁍ requested: yes-- thank you anon! ⁍ genre: AU! angsty, fluffy. idol!reader x fansite!karina ⁍ a/n: i hope this is what you were looking for, anon <3 ⁍ wc: 11.3k ⁍ warnings: none that i can think of. ⁍ synopsis:

y/n is an idol in a struggling group from a nearly forgotten company. karina, an amateur photographer, accidentally captures her most unguarded moment onstage. as their lives begin to intersect through late-night messages and fleeting encounters, both must confront what it means to be seen. not as a persona, but as a person beneath the facade.

karina hadn’t meant to become anyone’s favorite fansite. that kind of attention belonged to people with ring lights in their backpacks and watermark signatures they spent hours perfecting. she didn’t even think of herself as that kind of photographer. she just liked the way light hit things. how it caught on collarbones, glinted off earrings, poured over a stage like it was part of the performance.

it started quietly, the way most important things in her life did. it was her 22nd birthday. the restaurant had closed early, not because her parents had time to spare, but because they loved her. aeri had shown up late, out of breath, hair messy from the subway, holding a perfectly wrapped box like it was fragile.

“don’t say i never give you anything,” she’d said, plopping it onto karina’s lap as they sat in the backroom, legs curled on crates of radish and flour.

karina peeled the wrapping slowly, careful with the tape, as if savoring the moment might stretch it out a little longer. inside was a fujifilm x-t4, sleek and unreasonably beautiful. she blinked at it, then looked at aeri, who just shrugged like it wasn’t a big deal.

“you’re always noticing things,” aeri said. “figured you should have something that keeps up.”

karina didn’t touch the camera again for a week. it sat in its box under her bed while she sliced scallions and restocked soy sauce bottles and worked double shifts on weekends. but sometimes, when the dining room was empty and sunlight crept in through the windows just right, she’d find herself picturing how it would look through the viewfinder.

the first real photo she took was of her mother rolling out dough in the morning, flour dusting her hands, her expression somewhere between focused and serene. the shot was imperfect—slightly overexposed—but karina stared at it for longer than she meant to. it didn’t just look like her mother. it felt like her. solid. enduring. full of quiet strength.

after that, she started carrying the camera everywhere. tucked into her tote bag beside chopsticks and gum and receipts she never threw away. she shot alleys and rain puddles, foggy bus windows, the backs of people’s heads on the subway. it wasn’t about creating art. it was about holding onto moments before they passed.

and then one night, aeri dragged her to a music showcase in hongdae. a half-basement space with sticky floors and too many bodies, where the speakers were too loud and the lighting was an assault of reds and blues. karina wasn’t planning on shooting. she almost didn’t bring the camera at all.

but when the first group stepped onto the stage, something shifted. the lights flared, the bass rolled through her ribs, and the girl in the center smiled like she knew exactly what kind of effect she had. karina reached into her bag before she even knew what she was doing. the lens cap came off, the camera powered on, and her fingers moved on instinct. framing, adjusting, snapping, again and again.

later, when she uploaded a few shots—just a handful, raw and unedited, she thought maybe a few friends would see them. maybe aeri would leave a sarcastic comment. instead, her inbox filled up overnight. reblogs. retweets. strangers asking for more. someone called her “the eye behind the moment.”

she didn’t know what to do with that. she wasn’t trying to be known. she just didn’t know how else to look at the world.

but that was only part of it. there was the camera, sure, but karina’s life didn’t revolve around it—not completely. not yet.

the restaurant kept her grounded. a narrow two-story space tucked between a laundry shop and a bike repair store, with faded signage and the smell of grilled mackerel permanently baked into the walls. it used to belong to her parents, but they’d stepped back a few years ago, retiring with the quiet relief of people who had worked too long and too hard. now it was hers, even if she didn’t say that out loud too often. it felt strange, being twenty-something and responsible for payroll and supplier invoices, but she was doing okay. the regulars still came. the lights still turned on every morning.

ningning and minjeong, her best friends since high school, worked the evening shifts. both were juggling classes and internships, trying to survive off iced americanos and convenience store triangle kimbap. working at the restaurant was supposed to be temporary, but it never really felt like work. they were here, together, and that was enough reason to stay.

aeri didn’t work there, but she might as well have. she spent most of her afternoons at one of the corner tables, sketchbook open, doodling commissions or drawing whatever her brain felt like spitting out that day. she said it was the atmosphere. the way the place smelled, the sounds, the way the light fell through the front window. “and also,” she’d added once, “because you feed me for free.”

on nights like this, after hours, the place felt like theirs. dishes cleaned. chairs stacked. lights dimmed. the doors locked, but no one really ready to leave yet.

“minjeong, you missed a whole-ass table,” ningning called out, balancing a wet rag in one hand and dramatically pointing with the other. “again.”

“do you ever shut up?” minjeong deadpanned, wiping in increasingly aggressive circles. “it’s a water ring, not a war crime.”

“i’m just saying, the health inspector would have a field day with your laziness.”

“and yet,” minjeong replied, tossing the rag at ningning’s face with perfect aim, “i’m the one who passed organic chem senior year. unlike somebody.”

ningning shrieked and ducked behind a chair. “low blow! low blow! i was sick with a broken heart!”

“girl, he ghosted you after three dates and a noraebang session,” aeri chimed in without looking up from her sketchpad. “that’s not heartbreak, that’s natural selection.”

karina didn’t laugh, though she probably should have. she didn’t even look up. she was sitting at the far end of the dining room, camera resting on her knees, flicking through photos from a small showcase she’d wandered into last night. it wasn’t a big deal. just a filler show at a lesser-known venue, one of those lineups with too many groups and not enough lighting. but she’d gone anyway. she’d been bored. curious. sometimes the smaller acts surprised her.

and then there was you.

you weren’t even the headliner. she didn’t know your name, didn’t know your group. maybe she wasn’t even supposed to be filming by that point. but you’d stepped into the spotlight and something about the way you moved made her pause. not because it was clean or polished. not because it was loud. there was just something there. something raw and sharp and almost too real to be coming from a stage performance. it wasn’t the choreography. it was your eyes.

she hadn’t even intended to take more photos, but her fingers had moved on instinct. she zoomed in. framed. captured. the moment felt urgent, like it would disappear if she blinked too long. and now, in the quiet hum of the closed restaurant, she was staring at a still image of you mid-chorus, mouth open in song, hair clinging to your cheek with sweat. your expression was unreadable. eyes wide, almost desperate, like you were trying to claw your way out of the screen.

there was something beautiful about that. not in the traditional sense. not the curated kind of beauty fans expected from fancams and photobooks. no, this was different. you looked like you were trying to survive something.

karina liked photos like that. more than she ever admitted. she posted the clean ones, the ones where idols looked like perfection incarnate, frozen in joy and light. she knew that’s what fans wanted. but sometimes, she kept the others for herself. the moments when an idol’s smile didn’t quite reach their eyes. when their shoulders sagged between movements. when their mask cracked.

once, she’d used a photo of a male idol for her university thesis on existentialism. in the picture he was smiling for the crowd, full teeth, perfect posture. but his fists were clenched at his sides, and his knuckles were white. the angle of his body betrayed exhaustion. slightly hunched, like he was about to fold. the essay argued that idols existed in a liminal space between personhood and persona, between being seen and being known. her professor called the photo “haunting.” karina just thought it was honest.

you looked honest, too.

“karina,” aeri called from across the room, pencil tucked behind her ear. “if you don’t stop spacing out and come look at this cursed drawing of ningning with cat ears, i’m going to print it on a t-shirt and wear it to your funeral.”

karina didn’t answer. her thumb hovered over the save button, eyes still fixed on the image of you. something inside her twisted. not unpleasantly. not quite.

maybe she’d go to your next show. maybe she’d take more photos. maybe, this time, she’d take a video. 

there was just something about you that she couldn’t shake, even as the night shifted to morning. 

__

y/n was tired in the way that didn’t show on her face, but lived somewhere in her bones. another performance day. another barely promoted showcase in a cramped venue where the dressing room was just a partition and a folding table, and the smell of sweat and floor cleaner clung to every surface.

it wasn’t that she didn’t love performing, because she did. she really did. but lately, it felt like the love was one sided. her group had been active for long enough that the silence felt personal. comebacks with no traction. practice videos with barely any views. they trained like everyone else, starved like everyone else, cried in stairwells like everyone else. but they weren’t getting anywhere. not really.

their company was small. generous with promises, stingy with everything else. they’d been wearing the same reworked stage outfits for three promotions now, and their stylists had long since stopped showing up to these smaller events. today, they’d done their own makeup in a bathroom mirror with cracked lighting, blending eyeshadow with their fingers and praying no one would notice the frayed edge of a hem or the glue dot holding an earring in place.

“they’ve only got handhelds,” their manager said on the way in. “no headsets. sorry.”

y/n hadn’t answered. she just nodded and adjusted the strap on her mic pack that she now didn’t need.

the group before them was finishing up. another act from another no-name company, probably in the same situation as them. bright smiles, tight formations, doing their absolute best for a crowd of maybe fifty people and a camera crew that would forget their name by morning. they were solid. enthusiastic. the kind of performance that reminded y/n just how replaceable she might be.

she took a breath and let it out slowly, gripping the mic in both hands, the weight of it heavier than usual. it wasn’t nerves exactly. it was something deeper. a slow, crawling ache in her chest that whispered to her long into the quiet hours of the night. every night.

what if this is it? what if this is all there ever is?

“you okay?”

the voice pulled her back. she blinked and asa was suddenly next to her, fidgeting with the zipper on her jacket, eyes darting between her and the edge of the curtain.

“you look like you’re about to throw up,” asa added, laughing, but it was tight. nervous. she was trying to be casual  but the crack in her voice gave her away.

y/n forced a small smile. “thanks. that’s reassuring.”

asa shrugged, tugging at the hem of her sleeve like she always did when she was anxious. “sorry. i just… i dunno. i can’t tell if this venue is hotter than usual or if i’m overheating from impending doom.”

“maybe both.”

asa snorted, then paused. “you think people will actually cheer this time?”

y/n didn’t answer right away. she looked out past the curtain where a small crowd was gathering. half of them probably friends or staff, maybe a few real fans, maybe none at all. she could hear the muffled bass from the group on stage before them, feel it thrumming through the floor.

“i think,” y/n said slowly, “we do what we can. and we make it count. even if no one claps.”

asa nodded, quiet. then she sighed. “i swear to god, if my mic cuts out again mid chorus, i’m quitting and becoming a barista.”

“you can’t even drink coffee.”

“exactly. motivation to keep going.”

y/n huffed a laugh despite herself, and for a second, the ache in her chest eased. not gone. just quieter. 

the stage manager gave them the nod. tight, brisk, all business. asa straightened beside her, tugging her jacket into place one last time. their other members fell into formation like instinct, like ritual. y/n felt her feet move before her mind caught up, boots scuffing slightly against the edge of the raised platform. the mic was cold in her hand, heart knocking against her ribs in a rhythm too fast, too loud.

the lights hit first. hot, blinding, a poor imitation of grandeur. and then the music, tinny through the speakers but familiar in a way that wrapped itself around her spine. she stepped into position, found her mark, breathed.

and then she was performing. no room left for doubt, for fear, for aching questions about whether anyone out there even knew her name. there was only the music, the motion, the echo of their voices layered imperfectly through handheld mics and trembling breath.

she didn’t know if anyone would remember it. 

but she would give them something they could.

karina, embarrassingly enough, had spent most of the night deep in the trenches of the internet. the kind of rabbit hole where time folded in on itself and the only light came from a glowing screen and the blurry reflection of her own dumb, obsessed face. she wasn’t proud of it. but she also wasn’t stopping.

she’d found the smallest of leads. a screenshot from a barely active kakao chatroom used by venue staff. a schedule list, blurry and cropped, buried in a thread about broken light fixtures. in the corner was a group photo of five girls, clearly snapped on someone’s phone with zero artistic intention. the lighting was bad, the focus worse. but one face stood out.

y/n.

karina didn’t know her name at the time. didn’t know the group’s name either, not really. just a half readable hangul tag someone typed without bothering to correct the spelling. it didn’t matter. the only thing that did matter was that the photo didn’t do her justice. not even close.

karina stared at the screen, frustrated. not with y/n, but with the way the world had failed to capture her properly. if it had been her behind the lens, she would’ve framed her with softness and sharp light. she would’ve caught the way her expression shifted between verses, the fire tucked behind her eyes. maybe it was bias. or maybe it was just that she saw what others didn’t. and once she saw it, she couldn’t not see it.

so of course she had to go. of course she had to try. and somehow, by some divine combination of manipulation, bribery, and guilt—she managed to convince aeri, minjeong, and ningning to come with her.

“we closed early for this?” ningning groaned, arms folded as she eyed the neon-lit venue like it had personally offended her.

“my eyeliner is melting,” minjeong added flatly. “you said this was a cultural experience. you didn’t say it would be humid and depressing.”

karina ignored them, already scanning the crowd near the entrance with laser focus.

“do we even know the name of the group?” aeri asked, squinting at the flyer taped to a post. “because i’m not gonna lie, i’m seeing at least three acts with glitter names and vaguely tragic-sounding concepts.”

“we’ll know when we see her,” karina muttered, tightening her grip on her camera like it might help her focus.

“so just to recap,” ningning said, deadpan, “we abandoned paying customers to follow our emotionally repressed friend across the city to chase down a girl she doesn’t know, whose name she doesn’t know, in a group she also doesn’t know, all because she took one blurry photo of her looking vaguely ethereal.”

karina didn’t even flinch. her eyes were locked on the stage entrance like a hunter waiting for a sign. “when she comes out,” she murmured, “you’ll understand.”

“that’s what you said about the tofu place in yongsan,” minjeong replied. “we all got food poisoning.”

“and the time you dragged us to that underground film screening in itaewon,” ningning added, crossing her arms. “you know, the one where the director made us sit on the floor and watch three hours of interpretive dancing and crying in slow motion.”

“art is subjective,” karina said, without looking away from the stage.

“i hate it here,” minjeong cried, but she didn’t move. none of them did. despite all the complaints, the three of them stood beside karina. tucked just inside the dim edge of the crowd, the air heavy with stage fog and cheap hairspray. 

the music had dipped into transition mode. those awkward ten seconds where the next act lined up and the audience collectively held their breath.

karina leaned forward slightly, camera already raised. “shut up,” she whispered. “this is it.”

ningning sighed. “if she’s not the reincarnation of venus i swear to god—”

then the lights came up, and karina pressed the shutter.

the rest of the world collapsed into static. the chatter of the crowd, the sharp whine of a speaker adjusting, even her friends bickering a few steps away. it all blurred into the background. karina didn’t hear a thing. didn’t want to. her camera was already in place, viewfinder pressed to her eye like a second heartbeat.

and then, there you were.

center stage, swallowed in too-bright lights and haze that clung like mist. not even fully in frame yet, but karina felt it in her chest, low and sharp, the same way she sometimes did when stumbling across a perfect shot at golden hour. your movements weren’t perfect, not polished like bigger groups, but there was something in the way you carried the weight of the song. the way your body snapped from choreography into raw instinct. your expression wasn’t just practiced. rather, it looked like it meant something. 

like you were clawing your way out of anonymity with every verse, like every beat might be the last chance you’d get to be seen.

karina adjusted the focus, breath shallow. it wasn’t just technical skill, though you had that, too. it was presence. the kind of magnetism that cracked through cheap lighting and echoed off concrete walls. something unruly and honest. like pain, or hope, or both tangled together.

she didn’t realize how tightly she was gripping the camera until the shutter clicked—soft, barely audible under the music. she filmed. slowly, reverently. tracking you through the chorus, through that sharp turn of your chin, that flicker of emotion in your eyes that felt earnest. 

the music cut out on a final, echoing note, and the lights dimmed just a beat too late—just enough for karina to catch the way y/n’s chest rose and fell, quick and uneven from exertion. and then y/n bowed with the rest of her group and slipped backstage like a ghost.

the crowd gave polite applause. not wild, not dead, just that middle ground kind of lukewarm appreciation that stung more than silence. but karina wasn’t paying attention to them. she let her camera fall against its strap, her fingers still tingling.

“…okay,” ningning said slowly. “i’ll give you that one.”

karina blinked, turning toward her.

“what?”

“you were right,” aeri continued for her, her tongue clicking against her cheek, a look of genuine surprise on her face. “she’s got something. i don’t know what it is exactly, but i wanna draw her like, fifty times and then write poetry about it.”

“i felt things,” minjeong muttered. “against my will.”

“you’re welcome,” karina said, dazed, still watching the empty stage like she expected you to come back out.

ningning raised an eyebrow. “you got the shot?”

karina nodded slowly. “i got something.”

a beat.

“so… what now?” aeri asked. “are we gonna become groupies? follow them around the country? make a fan club?”

karina didn’t answer. not right away. she was already thumbing through the footage, pausing on a frame where y/n’s expression looked too real to be staged. 

“i don’t know,” she murmured. “but i’m not done.”

her friends exchanged a look.

“this is going to turn into another ‘project,’ isn’t it?” minjeong said.

“worse,” ningning sighed. “it’s gonna turn into a feelings thing.”

“i hate when she gets feelings,” aeri added.

karina didn’t bother defending herself. she just hit play again.

because something in her gut told her this wasn’t a one-time thing. this was the beginning of something she didn’t quite have words for yet. but she’d find them.

and when she did, you’d be in every frame.

when y/n stepped off stage, her chest was heaving, every breath thick with adrenaline and exhaustion. sweat clung to the back of her neck, her limbs heavy, the kind of heavy that only came after pouring yourself into something with no guarantee it mattered.

she gave it her all. she really did.

“you okay?” asa asked, brushing past her to grab a water bottle off the folding table in the corner of the backstage hallway. her voice was hushed, cautious.

y/n nodded, but her smile didn’t reach her eyes. “yeah. just… heart’s still racing.”

“mine too,” asa admitted, cracking the cap. “i thought my mic was gonna short out halfway through the bridge.”

“it might’ve,” y/n muttered, half-laughing, rubbing at her temples. “i think i was singing in the wrong key the entire chorus.”

“you were fine. we were fine,” asa said, then added more quietly, “better than we usually are.”

before y/n could respond, their manager rounded the corner with that frantic, harried look she always wore after a performance. clipboard in one hand, phone in the other, pressed between her shoulder and ear.

“come on, come on,” she barked, waving them forward. “wrap it up. van’s waiting out back. you guys did great. people clapped. that’s something.”

asa rolled her eyes and shoved her bottle into her bag. y/n followed, muscles aching, nerves still frayed. but there was something buzzing beneath it all. a strange energy she couldn’t place.

they stepped out into the back lot, the cool night air a welcome slap of relief. she was just about to pull her hoodie up over her head. 

flash.

a camera went off. bright, sudden, close. too close.

y/n flinched, instinctively jerking back, hand half-raised in defense. she blinked hard, vision adjusting, and there—just a few steps away—was a girl.

not a fan, not press. she didn’t look like the others. she wasn’t shoving a phone in y/n’s face or shouting a name. she was just standing there, camera still in hand, eyes wide with guilt and something else. awe, maybe.

“shit,” the girl said quickly, lowering the camera. “sorry. that was… i didn’t mean to get in your face like that.”

y/n shook her head, still catching her breath. “it’s fine. just surprised me.”

the girl stepped back, hands slightly raised like she was trying to prove she meant no harm. her features were striking. she almost looked unreal. elegant, sharp around the edges, but softened by the way she kept worrying her bottom lip. probably the prettiest girl y/n had ever met. which was unfair, honestly, considering she had just finished a performance looking like she crawled out of a thunderstorm.

“i, um…” the girl hesitated, then gestured vaguely to her camera. “i like your music. i mean. tonight. you… stood out.”

y/n blinked. what? she let out a short laugh, soft and self-deprecating.

 “you must’ve really low standards.”

the girl smiled, slow and a little crooked. “or really good taste.”

that pulled a quiet laugh out of y/n, one that surprised even her. there was something disarming about the way the girl looked at her. not in a dissecting, distant way, but like she saw something worth keeping.

“i’m karina,” she offered, finally.

y/n glanced over her shoulder at the van, her group piling in, her manager waving impatiently. then she looked back.

“y/n.”

karina nodded, eyes crinkling slightly at the corners. “i know.”

and somehow, that didn’t feel creepy. it felt… kind.

the flash didn’t seem so jarring anymore.

y/n lingered at the edge of the lot, hoodie bunched in her hands, still warm from the stage lights and not quite ready to disappear into the van’s flickering overhead bulbs and the smell of fast food wrappers. karina hadn’t moved either. camera still slung over one shoulder, fingers curled around the strap like she didn’t want to let go just yet.

“you always do this?” y/n asked, tilting her head slightly. “ambush tired performers in alleys with flashes and compliments?”

karina grinned, just a hint. “only the ones who make me feel something.”

y/n raised a brow, caught off guard by how sincere it sounded coming from someone with a smile that could cure all ailments. “you’re smooth. has anyone told you that?”

“no,” karina said, a little too quickly. “i mean. they have. but not like… seriously.”

y/n laughed, properly this time. it came up from her chest, unexpected, and when it slipped into the air, karina looked—well, proud. like she’d won something.

“i just wanted one more shot,” karina added, a bit softer now. “you had this moment on stage. just… I don’t know. you looked like you were carrying the whole song in your bones. like it was breaking you and holding you together at the same time.”

y/n’s smile faltered.  not in a bad way. just… enough to let something real settle between them.

“you saw that?”

karina nodded. “yeah. and i got it. i think. i hope.”

a honk cut through the quiet. asa leaned out the van window, clearly fed up. “y/n! if we leave without you it’s not personal!”

y/n rolled her eyes but didn’t turn away just yet.

karina cleared her throat, suddenly shy. “i mean. if you want the photo, i could send it. or… whatever. if that’s weird, ignore me. this is probably weird.”

y/n held out her hand. “give me your phone.”

karina blinked. “what?”

“so i can put my number in it. for the photo,” she added, almost teasing. “and maybe because I owe you a proper thank you that doesn’t involve me looking like i’m about to collapse.”

karina handed it over without a word, eyes wide but amused. their fingers brushed.

and y/n, still riding the echo of a half-empty stage and a performance she’d nearly drowned in, thought—for the first time in a long while—that maybe someone had seen her after all.

not just the version she performed.

her.

y/n finished typing and handed the phone back, her thumb brushing lightly against karina’s as she did. the contact was brief, but it left something charged in the air, something that hummed between them like the aftermath of a too-good chorus.

“thanks,” y/n said, backing toward the van. “for the picture. and, you know… seeing me.”

karina offered a crooked smile, a little too honest. “i couldn’t not.”

y/n’s lips twitched. half amusement, half something softer. “you’re gonna make me regret not being more photogenic.”

“you’re already wrong about that,” karina said, voice barely above the sound of the idling engine behind them.

y/n shook her head, cheeks warm, and turned to leave.

asa opened the door from inside, leaning out dramatically. “did you just flirt with a fan?”

“you don’t even have fans,” one of the others chimed in from the back.

“shut up,” y/n muttered, ducking into the van as laughter erupted.

karina stood there for a moment longer, watching the van pull away until its tail lights blurred against the city’s glow. her hand was still wrapped loosely around her phone, like it hadn’t registered yet that she was holding more than just a contact. it was the beginning of something.

she wandered back toward where she left her friends, the girls loitering near the venue entrance just outside a half-shuttered convenience store, picking at bags of chips like they hadn’t been standing in the cold for twenty minutes.

“well that took forever,” ningning said as karina approached. “what’d she do, recite her entire discography?”

minjeong popped a chip in her mouth. “karina’s blushing.”

“i am not,” karina said, immediately.

“you so are,” aeri chimed. “girl, you’re one soft smile away from writing her poetry in your notes app.”

“shut up,” karina muttered, but she was smiling, and they knew it.

by the time they got back to the apartment, it was late and the city had settled into its usual lull. neon signs blinking slower, streets emptier, the hum of life still present but quieter now.

karina plugged in her camera the second she walked through the door, pushing past the chaos of their coat pile and ignored dinner dishes. she transferred the files with practiced ease, fingers flying across her keyboard, eyes scanning through each frame.

she didn’t post everything. just her favorites. the ones that mattered.

a still of y/n mid chorus, eyes wide, mouth open, hand outstretched like she was trying to grab something intangible.

a candid just before the final note, sweat glinting at her temple, expression cracked open with something raw.

a short clip from the bridge— shaky, imperfect, real—where y/n’s voice dipped low enough to sound like a confession.

she uploaded them to the fansite, quietly, without fanfare. no clickbait captions. just a few words.

“she deserves to be seen.”

and then she closed her laptop, let her head fall back against the couch, the hum of adrenaline slowly dying down.

she had no idea what she’d just done.

no idea that by morning, the photos would be everywhere. that hashtags would start trending. that the internet would do what it does best. amplify. echo. obsess.

no one knew yet, not even karina, that the post would change everything.

__

one day y/n’s group was scraping together performances at half lit venues with static ridden mics and lukewarm crowds. almost overnight, their company—which had long operated on the thinnest of margins, barely scraping together enough for rented rehearsal spaces and reused stage outfits—found itself overwhelmed. it started slowly, then all at once.

more likes on a performance clip, a few reposts from bigger accounts, a comment section that suddenly wasn’t empty. then, emails came in faster than they could answer them. variety show invitations, modeling inquiries, stylists offering racks of clothes they never would have dreamed of affording, choreographers who used to work exclusively with chart topping acts now asking if they had time to meet. people who once ignored them suddenly wanted a piece of them.

the difference was staggering. their managers were stunned, stumbling through new opportunities with wide eyes and open calendars. it wasn’t luck. it wasn’t a random viral moment.

everyone knew where it started. even if they didn’t say it out loud. it was the photos.

karina’s photos.

not just because they were beautiful, though they were. it was the way they captured something deeper. something true. the exhaustion behind a sharp smile. the fire behind a subtle glance. the quiet power of a girl mid performance, holding nothing back because she never had the luxury of half trying. and for the first time, everyone was finally paying attention. not the passive kind of attention, not the polite clapping or half hearted glances they had grown used to. this was real. eyes wide, breath held, curiosity turning into obsession.

karina had managed to benefit from it, too. her inbox was filled with requests from magazines, creative agencies, brand managers. people she once looked up to were asking her to shoot for them. she was getting job offers, collaboration deals, invitations to events where her camera had once only earned her sidelong glances. they weren’t just looking for any photographer. they wanted the one who saw what others missed. the one who told stories through still frames. the one who captured something real.

karina was no longer just another fansite admin with a good lens and a sharp eye, working nine to five in her parents old shop.

she was an artist. a name people remembered.

but even with all the momentum, all the noise and new beginnings, she never stopped being what she had been from the start.

your biggest fan.

she sent the photo late one night. for a moment as she sat in the closed restaurant, minjeong and ningning arguing about in their typical way, she stared down at the contact you put in her phone. she hesitated, at least for a moment. the memory of your kind smile, your soft spoken voice. her fingers glided across the screen in tandem with her beating heart. no fanfare, no filter. just a single image attached to a quiet message. it was the close up she took of you after the show. you were caught mid-step, your hoodie bunched loosely in your hands, the flash of her camera catching you off guard. there was no performance left in your face. no mask, no practiced smile. just fatigue and something softer beneath it.  you weren’t posing. you didn’t even know she was watching. the message that came with it was short.

thought you might want this one. it felt like yours.

you stared at the photo longer than you meant to when the message chimed in your phone. not because of the lighting or the angle or the composition. it was the way it made you feel like someone had been paying attention, not to the version of you you put forward, but to the one you were seldom able to show.

you didn’t know what to say, so you kept it simple.

i don’t know how you did that. but thank you. really.

and that was how it started. not with fireworks, not with some grand confession or twist of fate. just a photo, a message, and the quiet, unmistakable feeling that someone out there understood something about you before you’d even found the words for it yourself.

there were late night messages, the kind that came unprompted but never unwelcome. blurry voice notes where laughter bled into silence. text threads that stretched past 2am, full of half-formed thoughts and gentle check ins. karina always said she was just doing what any fan would do, but it never felt like that—not to you. because when she spoke to you, she didn’t perform. she didn’t talk like someone trying to impress a name on a screen. she never asked for a selfie or a signature, never treated you like a symbol to collect or admire from a distance. instead, she asked about your day. she wondered if the stage lights ever gave you headaches, if you ever got tired of being seen all the time, but rarely looked at for real.

you told her things you hadn’t said out loud in months. about how much you missed home.  about how your own voice made you wince when you heard it back in interviews. about how surreal it felt to be loved so loudly and still feel, somehow, invisible.

karina never rushed to reassure you. she didn’t offer pity or polished wisdom. she just listened, and when she answered, it was always with care. always in a way that made you feel solid again, like a person instead of a product.

and you gave that back, in your own way. you asked her about her photography, about her life. you asked about her best friends, the ones you started recognizing in the background of her instagram stories. ningning with the bright smile, minjeong with the dry wit, and aeri, the chaotic artist who seemed to live in bursts of color.

karina began sending you photos she never posted anywhere else. quiet moments. behind-the-scenes shots of a life unfolding in soft focus. unedited, warm, honest. glimpses of the world as she saw it, framed not for performance, but for truth.

and somewhere in those quiet, electric moments, something shifted.  not all at once. not with drama or declarations. just a bond.

weeks later, your group found themselves sitting beneath the glare of studio lights, surrounded by producers, stylists, and a modest but buzzing live audience. it was your first real appearance on a major network talk show—an undeniable sign that something had shifted. the couches were too stiff, the air too cold, and you were suddenly aware of every camera angle, every eye trained on you.

and yet, when the host leaned forward with an easy smile and asked, “what do you think changed? what made things finally click for your group?”

you didn’t hesitate.

“a fan,” you said.

then, almost instinctively, you softened. your fingers fidgeted slightly in your lap, but your voice held steady.

“or… maybe not just a fan. she took this photo of me that kind of blew up online. it wasn’t, like, flattering in the usual sense. it wasn’t pretty-pretty. i looked tired. drained, even. but it felt real. like someone had caught something honest. i didn’t even realize how much i’d been holding in until i saw it.”

you paused, glancing down as if the words themselves carried weight.

“i guess it was the first time i looked at a photo and didn’t think, that’s what i’m supposed to look like. instead, i thought, yeah. that’s me. and somehow, that made me want to keep going. she didn’t glam me up. she gave me back to myself.”

the studio went quiet for a beat. not out of discomfort, but reverence. then the applause came. soft at first, then rising.

across the city karina sat in her apartment above the restaurant, laptop balanced on a stack of art books, camera lenses spread across the coffee table like instruments mid-performance. aeri was on the floor beside her, paint-splattered sweatpants and brush in hand, halfway through a bold, chaotic canvas.

minjeong was sprawled on the couch, bowl of popcorn in her lap. when the interview clip played and your voice filled the room, she didn’t even look up. she just tossed a handful of popcorn straight at karina’s head.

“you’re in love,” she said, deadpan.

karina didn’t blink. didn’t even react. her eyes were locked on the screen, on the way you smiled at the end of your sentence like you were thinking of someone specific.

“shut up,” she mumbled.

aeri snorted from the floor. “it’s giving muse energy.”

karina said nothing. she was already reaching for her camera bag.

the next day, she was at inkigayo. her press pass hung around her neck, laminated and slightly bent from use. her camera bag was snug against her hip, and her hands were calm, practiced, like they’d been made to hold that camera. the venue was a storm. fans crowding the barriers, chants echoing, lightsticks flashing like signals in a galaxy of movement.

but when you stepped on stage, something in the atmosphere changed.

karina found her place front left of the pit. she didn’t even realize she was holding her breath until your eyes found hers. it happened somewhere between the pre-chorus and second verse. one glance, a pause in the blur of it all. you saw her. really saw her. hair tied back, camera steady, face tilted just slightly as if she didn’t want to blink and risk missing something. 

you smiled. not the practiced curve they taught you during training. not the camera ready flash for fanservice or headlines. this smile was different. unguarded. real. and in that moment, amidst the pulsing beat and the sea of screaming voices, you didn’t feel like a product. you didn’t feel like a placeholder in a group scraping to stay relevant.

you felt like you.

and it was all because of karina.

__

karina wasn’t sure what exactly made her send the message. maybe it was the way the restaurant felt too still that afternoon, the echo of wiped-down surfaces and idle ceiling fans humming like a nervous heartbeat. maybe it was the thought of y/n finally having a rare day off, the kind she barely got anymore, and wanting—no, needing—to be part of how she spent it. either way, her fingers had moved before her brain caught up, and suddenly the invitation had been sent.

it wasn’t phrased like an invitation, not really. just a casual mention.

 i’m at the restaurant today. it’s quiet. 

she’d told the others to clear out well before sunset. ningning pouted. aeri dramatically draped herself over the bar like it was a tragedy. minjeong smirked with that knowing look that made karina want to crawl into the floor. they left, eventually, but not before tossing back a few parting jabs.

“don’t combust,” ningning had said sweetly, snatching her drink on the way out.

 “try not to sweat through your shirt,” aeri added from the doorway.

 minjeong just leaned in, low and amused. “don’t blow it.”

karina scrubbed the same table three more times after they were gone, even though it was already spotless. the place looked as perfect as it could. lights dimmed just enough, music barely audible, the warm smell of soy and grilled rice still lingering from the afternoon rush. she fixed her shirt twice, changed it once, then changed back. she told herself it wasn’t a date, even though her heart hadn’t stopped racing since noon.

when y/n arrived, it was quiet. no cameras. no staff. just asa’s car slipping down the street and disappearing around the corner like a secret. the door creaked open, and there she was. hood up, mask tucked low on her chin, eyes wide with something that looked almost shy.

“hey,” she said, like it was the easiest thing in the world.

karina could barely breathe. “hi.”

y/n pulled her mask down fully once the door clicked shut behind her. she glanced around, taking it all in. the faded wood of the booths, the soft clatter of wind against the windows, the smell of something warm and faintly sweet still hanging in the air. her expression softened. 

“it’s cute,” she said. “feels like home.”

karina didn’t know how to answer that, not really. she just rubbed the back of her neck, nodded awkwardly, and offered to make her something to eat. y/n didn’t protest. she perched on a stool by the counter, elbows resting loosely on the edge, watching with something like quiet amusement as karina bustled around the kitchen pretending she wasn’t hyper aware of every movement.

they talked about nothing at first. food, the weather, the stray cat that kept appearing by the dumpster out back. y/n teased her about being bossy with her friends. karina rolled her eyes and muttered something about “necessary survival tactics.” there was laughter, easy and unforced, and then there were silences that didn’t feel empty at all.

at one point, karina dropped a spoon. y/n leaned down to pick it up before she could, their hands brushing, barely. it wasn’t a moment worth writing down, but it lingered.

after dinner—mismatched bowls and a shared plate of grilled dumplings—they moved upstairs to the apartment above the restaurant. karina unlocked the door like it was something intimate, not just a key, and y/n stepped in slowly, quietly, her eyes moving over the space.

it was simple. lived in. warm in the way real places are, the kind that don’t need curated furniture or expensive lighting to feel whole. a stack of photo books by the window. slippers kicked halfway under the couch. art pinned carelessly to the fridge with old magnets.

“this feels familiar,” y/n said, her voice lower now, thoughtful. “my parents used to have a place kind of like this. smaller, though. messier. but... same energy.”

y/n drifted toward the table by the window, where the light hit soft and slanted, and her gaze landed on the camera resting there like something waiting to be remembered. her fingers hovered first, then moved with quiet confidence, tracing the curve of the strap, the smooth edge of the body, as if she already understood it wasn’t just a tool. like she knew that it was an extension of karina herself.

karina stilled, halfway through reaching for a pair of glasses to pour water, the motion forgotten as she watched. 

“can i?”

the question landed like a hush in the room. karina didn’t answer right away. the instinct to say no curled at the edge of her thoughts, the way it always did. no one touched the camera. not her friends. not even family. it wasn’t about possession, not really. it was about the way memory clung to film, the way the lens saw everything and sometimes too much. she guarded it because she didn’t know how not to.

but y/n didn’t reach like she wanted to take. she waited, like she already knew the weight of what she was asking for.

karina looked at her, at the patience in her eyes, the quiet way her fingers curved but didn’t close around the camera. and something softened.

she nodded once, almost imperceptibly. “yeah. okay.”

her voice was barely above a whisper. but she meant it.

y/n held it with reverence, turning it gently in her hands, fingers moving over buttons and dials like she was trying to learn the shape of karina’s world through touch. the moment stretched, soft and quiet. then, without asking, she lifted it, brought it to eye level, and pointed it at karina.

karina blinked, caught somewhere between startled and breathless.

“wait, i—”

click.

y/n lowered the camera, grinning a little. “too late.”

karina stood frozen, heart thudding in her chest. “you didn’t even warn me.”

“i didn’t need to,” y/n said. she turned the camera around, looked at the preview screen, then smiled again. this time quieter, fonder. “you always say your best photos happen when no one’s paying attention.”

karina didn’t answer right away. her voice felt caught in her throat. when she finally spoke, it came out softer than she meant.

“can i see it?”

y/n hesitated, then handed the camera over. karina looked. the photo wasn’t perfect. her hair was a little out of place. she looked tired, maybe. surprised. vulnerable in a way she usually tried not to be. but there was something else there too. a light behind the eyes. a softness. like maybe, just for a second, someone had seen her without the walls.

“keep it,” karina said, surprising even herself. “if you want.”

y/n just nodded. “i do.”

they stood close now, the space between them quiet but charged. y/n looked at her the way she always did. unflinching, sincere. not with expectation, not with some idolized version of karina in her head. just... her.

“i think,” y/n said slowly, “i wanted to see how you looked when you weren’t behind the lens.”

karina didn’t know how to respond to that. not with words.

so she didn’t.

she stepped forward, just slightly, enough that she could feel the warmth radiating between them. y/n didn’t move back. her eyes flicked to karina’s mouth, then back up.

“is this okay?” karina asked, barely more than a whisper.

y/n smiled, gentle and sure.

“yeah,” she said. “it’s more than okay.”

when they kissed, it wasn’t fireworks or orchestras. it was slow and quiet, like the closing of a door, like the breath before a song begins. it tasted like dumplings and late summer air. like truth. like a beginning. their mouths met gently, not in a rush, not all at once. lips parting slow, testing the shape of closeness. karina’s free hand found y/n’s waist, tentative at first, then firmer when y/n responded with the same kind of softness. the kind that steadies rather than consumes. their noses bumped, slightly, but neither pulled away. instead, they smiled into it—barely, just enough to feel the curve of each other’s lips.

the kiss deepened, not with urgency but with familiarity, the kind that comes from long nights spent talking about nothing, and photographs that said everything. it was quiet. a little clumsy. real.

karina’s fingers slid up the back of y/n’s shirt, curling into the fabric like an anchor. y/n’s hand lifted to her cheek, thumb grazing just beneath her eye, like she was trying to memorize the moment by touch alone. there was no need to fill the silence. no need to ask if this meant something. it already did. the camera between them carefully lowered to a side table, forgotten.

somewhere, downstairs, the ice machine clicked on. a car passed by outside, headlights sweeping shadows across the window.

but up here, there was only the soft thud of a camera on the table, and two girls finally leaning into the gravity that had been pulling them closer from the start.

__

a week had passed since their kiss, since the night they had spent together, a night that lingered like a secret melody beneath everything y/n did. even though they hadn’t seen each other since, karina was the first name on y/n’s lips when she woke, and the last thought before sleep took her. every message from karina was a small lifeline. quiet jokes, shared moments, bits of their worlds folded together across the distance.

today, y/n was back in the practice room, the weight of the choreography solid and familiar beneath her feet, but her mind kept drifting, pulling to the memory of karina’s smile. the warmth of her hand, the way the quiet between them felt less like emptiness and more like space made just for two. moving through the routine gave her a strange kind of comfort, something steady to hold onto while the rest of the world spun faster and farther away.

but then y/n’s phone buzzed. once, twice, a steady stream that pulled her attention away from the mirror where she’d been rehearsing the steps again. she glanced down, the screen flooding with messages. urgent, clipped, impossible to ignore. her manager appeared beside her, eyes wide and serious, voice low but sharp like a warning.

“you need to see this,” she said, handing over her own phone. her hand trembled just a little, the way someone might if they’d just stumbled into a storm.

y/n’s fingers hovered over the screen before she swiped, revealing the dispatch article that tore through the quiet like a blade. the headline was blunt, loud, impossible to miss.

 “rising idol caught in ‘dating scandal’: secret visits to family restaurant spark rumors.” 

the photo below was grainy, taken from a distance, but unmistakable. y/n stepping inside karina’s restaurant, hood pulled low but face visible enough for anyone who knew her to recognize. the caption twisted the simple truth into something explosive, something meant to divide and shame.

y/n’s breath caught in her throat. her heart hammered so fiercely against her ribs she was sure it might burst free at any moment, wild and desperate. no warning came before she was pulled aside from rehearsal, her manager’s grip firm but hurried on her arm as they navigated through sterile hallways to a small, windowless room tucked behind the scenes. the air inside felt heavy, suffocating, as if the walls themselves held the weight of every decision made within.

waiting at the long, polished table were the company executives. their faces were unreadable masks, eyes sharp and cold, devoid of any trace of empathy. they didn’t ask how she was doing or what she wanted; they only delivered orders.

“this has to be contained,” the eldest executive said, voice low and clipped, like he was issuing a verdict rather than offering guidance. “the group just broke into the mainstream. your image is crucial. any hint of controversy could set us back months, if not years.”

another executive, younger and more impatient, leaned forward, fingers steepled. “we’ll draft a statement. something tight, professional. deny everything. discredit the source.”

“you understand,” a third added, voice even colder, “you cannot be seen with her again. no contact. no meetings. no social media interactions. if you don’t comply, your career is at risk.”

y/n swallowed hard, words lodged in her throat. she tried to find a foothold in the conversation, to explain, to plead. “but it’s not true. karina and i—we didn’t want this. we didn’t do anything wrong.”

the executives exchanged glances, unimpressed. “this isn’t about truth,” the eldest said flatly. “it’s about control. perception. you are a product. you have a responsibility to protect that.”

the cold finality of their tone crushed something fragile inside her. the group was finally on the rise, the spotlight shining brighter than ever, and now the one thing she wanted most—the quiet connection she’d found—was being torn away, dismissed like a distraction, a liability.

she nodded silently, the weight of their demands settling like a stone in her chest. there was no room for hesitation, no space for feeling. only the harsh reality that the life she had been building might unravel in a heartbeat.

karina was at the restaurant, wiping down tables with a tenderness that seemed almost reverent. the afternoon sun filtered through the windows, casting long, lazy shadows across the floor, and the soft quiet wrapped around her like a blanket, fragile and precious. every folded napkin, every wiped surface held an echo of the calm she found in the idol she couldn’t shake from her mind no matter how hard she tried.

and then her phone lit up.

a message from y/n. another from the group chat with her friends, followed by dozens more. strangers with sharp tongues and cruel words.

her fingers trembled as she opened the article. the headline screamed across the screen, twisting the memory of y/n walking through that very door just a week ago into something dark and explosive. her breath hitched. the rag slipped from her hand and fell silently onto the floor.

karina had faced criticism before, the kind that stung and lingered. but this was different. this was a storm that threatened to drown everything she’d built, everything she cared about. her phone flooded with messages calling her reckless, selfish, an opportunist who had destroyed y/n’s rising career. the restaurant’s ratings plummeted, reviews turning venomous, and anonymous whispers spread across social media like wildfire, each one cutting deeper.

her parents called, worried but unsure how to help. karina couldn’t meet their eyes when they asked if she was okay. the guilt weighed heavier than any insult, twisting tight around her chest.

karina slid down behind the restaurant counter, the worn wood cool against her back, just beneath the register where the afternoon light fell soft and golden through the window. her fingers trembled around her phone, still buzzing faintly from the recent facetime call with her parents, their worried faces lingering in her mind. she stared at the screen, the quiet hum of the empty restaurant wrapping around her like a fragile shield.

then, her phone lit up again. y/n’s name, bright and sudden, breaking the silence. karina’s breath hitched. she hesitated a moment, then swiped to answer.

“karina?” y/n’s voice came through, low and fragile.

“yeah,” karina whispered, voice barely steady. “i’m here.”

they sat with the silence for a beat, neither sure where to start. finally, y/n’s voice cracked, raw and uncertain. 

“i’m sorry. for everything. for how this all happened. i didn’t want any of this. especially not to hurt you.”

karina bit her lip, the ache settling deep in her chest.

“i’m scared,” y/n confessed, voice trembling. “they told me to cut you out or i’d lose everything. and i don’t even know what losing you would mean, but it hurts more than i thought it would.”

karina swallowed the lump that rose tight in her throat. listening to y/n made everything feel real. her mind kept bouncing back and forth through memories. seeing y/n on stage at that shabby venue for the very first time, seeing her again and taking all the pictures she knew she would commit to her heart like gospel. the late night calls, the laughter, the vulnerability that y/n shared with her– only her.

the feeling of y/n’s body beside hers last week, her fingers brushing over y/n’s bare shoulder. it was that moment karina decided that no photo, not even her own, could do y/n justice. not when her chest rose and fell with breaths shared between them in that moment then.

karina shook her head, raising a palm to wipe at her eye. she didn’t want to cry. 

 “i don’t want to lose you.”

“you won’t.” y/n said, voice fragile but steady. “i want to fix this. but right now… i can’t. i’m sorry.”

the call ended, leaving the quiet heavier than before. karina held the phone close to her chest, breathing in the silence. 

a few hours later, y/n’s social media account posted a carefully crafted statement. the words were measured, rehearsed. she denied the rumors, calling karina a “family acquaintance” and insisting they were just friends. her hands trembled as she typed, each sentence feeling like a weight she had no choice but to carry. the message wasn’t hers but it was the only way forward, the only way to keep the chaos from swallowing her whole.

and in the silence that followed, when the noise finally dimmed, there was only one thing left. a photograph resting untouched on y/n’s bedside table. a fragile, quiet trace of what had once been real.

__ 

eight months had passed. eight months of radio silence. eight months y/n spent staring down at karina’s contact, fingers itching to send a message or maybe even call, but she never did. 

y/n stood on a bigger stage than she’d ever imagined, lights blinding, the roar of the crowd a steady pulse beneath her feet. the group had broken through, bigger names, bigger stages. the company still watched closely, but the tight leash had loosened just enough for y/n to breathe without suffocating.

she fought tooth and nail to stay in the group through the scandal, and slowly, the rumors faded, replaced by new headlines, new stories. but the feelings she carried for karina didn’t fade. they lingered, quiet and stubborn, beneath the gloss of the spotlight and the endless cycle of rehearsals and performances.

asa noticed, of course she did. they shared every moment on stage, every late night in the practice room. asa watched y/n carefully, her eyes sharp behind a calm smile, the kind that didn’t miss a thing. one night, after a long day, she finally asked.

asa sat beside y/n on the floor of the practice room, their backs leaning against the wall, legs stretched out in front of them. the hum of the overhead lights filled the quiet space, the only sound left after the others had trickled out hours ago. sweat clung to their skin, and the ache of the day settled deep in their bones, but neither of them moved to leave.

asa nudged a water bottle toward y/n with her foot. “you’ve been zoning out during cooldowns,” she said, not accusing, just stating. “your balance was off in the last run-through.”

y/n took the bottle, twisting the cap with tired fingers. “just tired,” she muttered.

asa nodded, letting the answer sit. she didn’t push. just drank her own water and rested her head back against the mirrored wall behind them. they sat like that for a minute, letting the silence stretch.

“this comeback’s going to be huge,” asa said eventually. “crazy to think about, huh? the venues, the collabs, the brand deals.”

“yeah,” y/n said softly. her smile didn’t quite reach her eyes.

asa glanced over, watching her carefully. “it’s everything we used to talk about back then. when we were stuck in those tiny green rooms and eating takeout at 3am.”

“everything we wanted,” y/n echoed.

asa was quiet for a moment. then, gently, she added, “but you haven’t really smiled since we got it.”

y/n’s breath caught, but she didn’t say anything right away. instead, she stared at the water bottle in her hands, fingers tightening around it.

asa didn’t push. she never did. she just waited, her presence steady and warm beside her.

“i never asked,” asa said quietly. “about… everything that happened. with her.”

y/n didn’t look up. her throat tightened. “there wasn’t anything to say.”

“maybe not then,” asa said. “but maybe now.”

y/n blinked slowly, eyes stinging for reasons she didn’t want to admit. the wall she’d built around those memories had held for eight long months, but asa’s voice chipped at it with every soft word.

asa reached over, placing a hand gently over y/n’s. “i’m not asking because i want the story. i’m asking because you look like you’re carrying something too heavy on your own.”

the quiet that followed wasn’t uncomfortable. it was the kind that made space. the kind that waited, patiently, for whatever came next.

and this time, y/n didn’t pull away. her grip loosened around the bottle. her shoulders, tense and drawn for what felt like forever, slumped the slightest bit.

“she saw me,” y/n said, voice so quiet asa had to lean in. “before all this. before the stages and the endorsements. she saw me.”

the words hung in the air between them, soft but heavy.

“i think that’s what scared me the most,” y/n continued, her gaze fixed on a smudge on the mirror across from them. “that someone could see me like that… and i let her go anyway.”

asa stayed quiet, giving her space. she didn’t press, didn’t try to offer empty comfort. just waited.

“everything’s gotten so big,” y/n murmured. “and i thought that was the point, right? to make it. to have people scream your name and sing your lyrics back to you. but somewhere along the way, it stopped feeling like mine.”

asa finally moved, reaching out to gently nudge y/n’s knee with her own. “you’ve been carrying that by yourself for a long time.”

“yeah,” y/n whispered. “and i’m tired.”

asa exhaled softly. “she’s the reason we’re even here, you know. if she hadn’t believed in you back then...”

“i know.”

asa gave her a long look. “so let me ask you something. when was the last time you were happy? like really, genuinely happy?”

y/n didn’t answer at first. her throat felt too tight, her chest too full.

asa tilted her head, voice gentle but firm. “i think you know. and i think you’ve known this whole time. you’ve given everything to this dream, and you’re still standing, y/n. but maybe it’s okay to want something that doesn’t come with stage lights and fan chants. maybe it’s okay to want something just for you.”

y/n looked down at her hands. her voice barely made it out.

“i miss her.”

asa nodded. “then go.”

and that was it. just the quiet support of someone who understood. the next steps were y/n’s to take, but for the first time in months, the path forward didn’t feel so impossible.

asa didn’t stop there. quietly, she reached out to contacts. first it was aeri, an artist she found through a post karina tagged her in on instagram. karina had kept posting after the worst of it. the restaurant, the sunrises, the small joys she’d reclaimed for herself. she no longer took photos of idols. no one could match the beauty she’d found in y/n.

with aeri, minjeong, and ningning’s help, a plan took shape. one quiet night, far from the prying eyes that once haunted them, y/n found herself standing outside karina’s apartment above the restaurant. it was two in the morning, the streets hushed and safe.

y/n took a deep breath and knocked.

karina opened the door, blinking against the dim hallway light, still wrapped in the warmth of sleep and the softness of an old sweatshirt. her brows furrowed for half a second in confusion. until she saw who it was.

“y/n..? wha—”

but she didn’t get to finish.

y/n stepped forward without hesitation, the weight of months crashing into her all at once. she grabbed the front of karina’s coat, fingers curling tight like if she let go, she might lose her again. and then she kissed her.

not tentative, not gentle. it was aching and desperate, like a dam breaking, like all the silence between them finally gave way. y/n poured everything into it. every sleepless night, every unsent message, every whispered apology. karina froze for only a heartbeat before she melted into it, her hands rising instinctively to cradle y/n’s face, thumbs brushing damp cheeks she hadn’t realized were wet.

the kiss deepened slowly, softening. less desperation now, more familiarity. recognition. karina tasted salt and the faintest trace of mint lip balm, and something about it broke her open too.

when they finally pulled away, karina simply stood in shock. her offhand found y/n’s waist, holding her close. y/n stared back at her, eyes wide and sincere.

“thank you,” y/n whispered, voice thick with everything left unsaid. “for seeing me when no one else did.”

karina didn’t speak right away. her thumb brushed gently over the fabric at y/n’s side, grounding herself in the moment, in the weight and warmth of her. everything felt fragile. like if she moved too fast, it might vanish. but y/n was still there. standing in front of her. real. closer than she’d been in months.

karina’s voice came soft, caught somewhere between wonder and heartbreak.

“you think i could’ve looked at you and not seen you?”

y/n’s breath hitched, her eyes flickering down for a second before finding karina’s again.

 “i lost so much of myself trying to hold on to the dream,” she said quietly. “but you… you made me feel like a person, not a product. like i mattered even when i didn’t know if i did.”

karina’s hand slid from her waist to her wrist, fingers curling around her gently. “you always mattered. i just didn’t know if you’d come back.”

“i didn’t either,” y/n admitted. “but somewhere between the stages and the silence, i realized… none of it feels like enough without you.”

the words hung in the air like something sacred.

karina’s eyes searched hers for a long moment, as if trying to find the truth beneath all the hurt, all the time they’d lost. what she found there must have been enough. because when she leaned in again, slower this time, more certain, it wasn’t a kiss born of urgency or ache.

in that moment, beneath the quiet hum of the city at night, y/n realized something that had been true all along. through every stage and every spotlight, through every dream she chased, it was karina who mattered more than anything. more than fame, more than success, more than the future she thought she wanted.

the future she truly wanted was here, in this small, fragile moment, with karina.

[revelboo]

Revel, I just have to know-

Does waspinator have any concept of what roleplay even is? He and his human have been on a wild ride recently, lmao

He probably wouldn’t understand, but would agree to play along if it makes his human happy. But would also get confused and take it way too seriously.

Roleplay

Waspinator

• Fighting not to snort as he fidgets his clawed servos, antenna back and wings tucked close, Waspinator whines softly, obviously uneasy with the idea of play hunting you. “It wouldn’t be real,” you soothe. “Just pretend. You know, for fun.” Raking a hand through your hair as his mandibles flex, you try not to just demand he play along. But really, what’s the point of having a big, fierce looking bug monster for a mate if you can’t have a little dominance play? “It’ll be like playing hide and seek with sex at the end,” you try. Because he likes hide and seek and okay, maybe you tell him you’re playing just so he’ll hide behind the curtains in the living room and you can pretend you can’t find him and have some peace and quiet for a bit.

• “Hide and seek,” he repeats and you smile. “Waspinator seeks?” Wings flicking faintly, because he always hides, never seeks. Maybe you want him to seek because of how good he is at hiding? Little mate never seems able to find him. Stays hidden for a long time when you play. Never played hide and seek with sex, though. But you nod, giving him the good Waspinator single digit hand gesture not the angry one he’s not supposed to repeat. “Counting,” he growls obediently putting his hands over his optics like you do and counting slowly.

• Dressed only in a robe, you slip through the house. Because in your head, you’d imagined him chasing you, snarling and ferocious. But you’re also realistic enough to know he’s about as aggressive as a radish. You’re not sure that he can even get angry. Hear him call out ‘seeking’ and roll your eyes as it sounds like he knocks something in the kitchen over.

• Wings buzzing, he crawls up the wall and swings upside down, bits of plaster raining down as he moves along ceiling so he won’t alert you. Being sneaky and extra quiet. Hunting. Buzzing softly as he creeps along, scenting you, he tracks you to your bedroom and you startle when he hisses to make you almost fall against the bed, swearing and eyes wide. Before you just fall backwards onto the bed, thighs spread. “Oh, no. Don’t hurt me,” you moan, throwing an arm over your face.

• Nothing? Lifting your arm to look up at him hanging there. And his antenna go back. Still upside down, mandibles flexing as he stares at you. “Waspinator not hurt little mate,” he whines, sounding like he’s about to start bawling that you’d even think that. “Never hurt little mate.” Grabbing a pillow and pressing it over your face to stifle the urge to scream in frustration. Because there goes the mood, your wet puppy having a meltdown.

• “We’re playing. Remember? That you’re hunting me?” You say, voice muffled by the pillow you have over your face. “You caught me. I’m your prey?” Dropping and flipping to land on his peds, he drapes himself facedown on the bed beside you, wings flicking. And your head turns to look at him. “And that’s not happening, is it? Want a hug?” You mutter and he rolls onto his side, dragging you into him and wrapping himself around you.

• “Waspinator good,” he mutters against your hair and you awkwardly pat his cheek. ‘Yeah,’ you agree tiredly. He’s good and you’re still horny. Maybe you can work up to training him to roleplay? Or start with something so vanilla he can’t possibly take it the wrong way and get upset? “Not prey. Mate.” Because he’s sliding into a whining mess. Again.

[verysanebsdfan]

𝟽 ʏᴇᴀʀs ʟᴀᴛᴇʀ - sᴇɴᴋᴜ ɪsʜɪɢᴀᴍɪ x ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

just something I wrote cuz I was bored...

masterlist

cw: MANGA SPOILERS, you get shot, not a graphic description or smth tho, not proofread

wc: 629

It was all going as planned, the North American team succeeded in turning on the petrification device, and now it was just a matter of minutes until it reached us again. You planned it with Gen, to confess to the love of your life right before you get petrified, so you can drown in shame and embarrassment until you get revived again, you totally forgot to account for the unfortunate situation you are in.

Senku got shot down, most of you did, really, including you. You were lying on the ground, barely breathing by now, and not far away from your side was Senku, who also found himself in an almost identical predicament.

“Senku…” You choke out, your teary eyes trying to grasp as many details of him. But he probably didn’t hear you, for he was too busy talking with Dr. Xeno. 

“...The truth is, my people and I are just full of desire.” You heard Senku say before the light could touch you. The stone spread around your body, leaving you in an empty darkness, only you and your thoughts.

1…

2…

3…

4…

2498…

90 568…

“I cannot take it anymore…” You thought. It’s barely been 25 hours yet this is getting too boring. Before, you could stay awake for a whole 3720 years, until Senku revived you, but now, after a day, you want to give up?

“Remember, what did I think about?” 

“Oh.”

“I thought about him.”

Yet it aches so much.

When you first met Senku, you were just a first grader, too smart for your good. Hearing your classmate say that he wanted to get to space as soon as possible was funny. What a cute dream, really. But he didn’t just say what he wanted, he worked for it. Hours after hours spent in the library, researching things. Hours spent at home or outside doing experiments.

It did not take long for your curiosity to take over and approach him, which is how you ended up befriending him.

There were many more interesting memories you often found yourself reminiscing about. There was one that stood out though. 

Last year in middle school, your whole class decided to have a get-together in a park, basically a picnic, it was late afternoon and the guys decided to play truth or dare. A guy 

asked Senku who out of the girls in the class would he like to date the most. Of course, the radish-head said no one, since relationships are trouble-prone. One thing however stuck. Taiju snickered and said your name. You immediately waited for Senku to deny it, however, he didn’t, his cheeks might have flushed a little, too.

So why? Why can’t you just confess? He will either reject you, or he won’t.

You will either be able to move on. Or you will get a romantic partner. It’s either a win or a win. So why. 

Either way. Back to counting.

589 642…

…

237 492 150…

Something over seven years? And then crack. 

You were awake now. Standing in front of you were Senku and Suika. Everyone else was close by, still petrified. 

“Senku?” You let out a soft whisper, and he nods.

“Sorry for not responding to you back then.” He said, and you immediately recalled how you called out to him, but he didn’t hear you. 

“You heard?” 

“Of course. I also wanted to talk to you back then, but the situation called.” He said and you let out a sob. 

“Idiot, that’s why I love you.” You say and wonder if you should regret it.

“I know, same, now let’s got wake up the others.” He said as if it was not a big thing. Of course, he sucks when it comes to emotions but c’mon!!

[lethalchiralium]

Seasons Change ⋆⭒ Part One

Retired!Cowboy!John Price x F!Reader, “arranged” marriage AU - Series Masterlist

summary: You’ve responded to the ad, traveling for days to a secluded farm in Montana to marry a man who would free you from the loneliness that infested your life back home - at the cost of your freedom. Or so you think.

Are you truly sure about this?

Your coach wasn’t extravagant by any means, wood splintered off of its wall and the cushions almost as old as you. You were sure that if you placed your Mama’s suitcase onto the floor, it would fall through. Your nicest shoes were on your feet, tied tightly and uncomfortable as they ghosted the top of the rotting wood floorboards.

Your hands were settled in a pair of your finest gloves, which shielded away the nicks you got from farming at your parent’s small ranch; lima beans, beets, sugar peas, radishes and tomatoes. The ground was tough in Illinois, trying to learn how to farm behind your mother’s back was essential - for you to be able to have freedom when you leave for the West, you had to have a source of income. Unless, God gives you a little ad from Montana on a Sunday afternoon.

Your nails hurt every time you scraped off the top soil from your radishes, the hot sun boiled your back through your stifling dress. You wiped your forehead with the back of your hand before you pulled out the last one, a sore hand wiped away dirt to show a deep violet color. There was a smirk on your face, the vegetable settled in your small basket. Your Pa was to be back by noon, taking his horse to town for some supplies and a new sewing kit for Mama. Her time was spent inside, usually under the watchful eye of a needle and feeder as her brand new sewing machine droned on. Pa spent the better part of the money from last year’s harvest for that, she took it with a soft smile.

Mama’s clothes were good, she can sew four shirts by noon and sell them by two o’clock, her blankets still have a waitlist from last winter. You were lucky to have her sew you a new dress with how busy she’s gotten - it’s good for you, it means you can learn how to tend a farm from Pa. Independent living always intrigued you, wanting to live off the land in a quiet house with a shepherd dog. People weren’t interesting enough for you - you got that from Mama - but romance was. Wanting to be loved without the hassle of courting was a dream of yours, but it wasn’t feasible. No good man would want a woman with cuts on her hands, your Mama always said, a lady doing a man’s work insults God. That and you didn’t go to town much, never going without your Pa for fear of being harassed by men like you had been before. You were always escorted through town by your Pa, he always had a smile and a swift draw with his revolver.

You twisted a tomato from the vine, a decent size yet still not big enough - it seemed the soil was beginning to lose its strength of growing your crops bigger than the palm of your hand. Every year they kept growing smaller, every year it seemed that Mama’s sewing hobby was looking more profitable than the cornfields Pa tended to alone. Even your contribution of an array of vegetables wouldn’t bring four dollars to the table; when it used to bring seven.

There were footsteps along the side of the house, heavy and with a gentle huff as he walked on the solid Earth. It wasn’t hard to recognize your Pa by sound, your hands kept twisting off undersized tomatoes as he approached from the side.

“I’ve got something for you, Sugar Pea.”

You shook your head. “If it’s one of those Seed boys’ letters, I don’t want it.”

“It’s somethin’ you oughta consider.”

The trail began to grow bumpy, your hands held onto your small suitcase as you gazed out the window. The fields expanded as far as your eye could see, mountains clustered in the distance made you excited. You had never seen mountains before - Illinois was flatter than most states. It had taken you a day by coach then three days by train from busy Chicago to reach the calm Montana landscape, excitement bubbled in your skin. This is where you would be living the rest of your life, you hoped. You prayed this ad your father had given you wasn’t a trick for the man you had been corresponding with for the past two months.

The coach was stuffy, you already tried to open the windows in the doors but they were sealed shut, your hand waved your fan to try and keep cool in the brand new dress you sewed just for this occasion.

“No daughter of mine is leaving to go to Montana by herself!”

“Ellen, she wants to go! I won’t stop her.”

“And how did she get this ad? She certainly doesn’t have the penny to pay the damn clerk for the newspaper.”

“If she wants to go to Montana to marry a farmhand, let her. None of these boys here are worth the scum on my shoe.”

You laid in your bed, you watched as your curtain billowed from the night time breeze - moonlight dancing along with the thin fabric as the only sound you heard was your parents arguing.

“What if we need her? What if the soil runs dry?”

“I’ll learn to sew.”

“It’s a woman’s job.”

“It’s also her job to be married by now. She’s 20 for God’s sake, Ellen, she needs to have her own freedom.”

“And it’s a world’s away from us?”

Your fingers tapped your nightgown, tears running down the side of your face. You hated that you would be so far from them, but this was your chance. Romance without courting, hopefully. You were naive enough to not understand that romance is nothing without courting.

“She’s not a child anymore. She just wants to be wed.”

“And not have her husband love her?! Courting is how she should be doing it, that Joseph is a fine boy-“

“Not again with that preacher’s son-“

“-that would treat her right!”

“She doesn’t want to be here! She just wants to be wed and to be left alone, this man promised us a cash amount if she replies. All she would need to do is wed him, give him a child-“

“Gerald-“

“-then shoot him if she likes, just like I taught ‘er.”

Pa’s silver revolver was smothered by an old scarf in the deepest part of your suitcase, just in case this man in the ad turned out to have lied about his identity. A 35 year old man in need of a wife to start a family with. Payment to family if wed. You had written to him four times during the winter, spring had come in full bloom to welcome you to your new home. He had promised a warm house and a dog in his lengthy letters, detailing where he lived and where his family came from. Said he was a farmhand, tending to horses and a farm he partially owned. You didn’t have much to say back, only that you lived on flat farm land your whole life, you know how to garden, cook, and sew. And to your surprise, he found that knowing how to garden was great. You always had the idea that men hated women doing any of the dirty work, but that always came from Mama’s mouth. He wrote in detail that he found your hobbies interesting and would be more than happy to let them continue, if you agreed to marry him.

“You’re set on meeting this man. Are ya sure you want to go?”

“I am.”

“Get up. Pack quickly before your Mama hears ya.”

“Pa-“

“Hurry. The train leaves soon and the carriage can only go so fast.”

And here you were, in a coach this mysterious John Price had rented to bring you from the center of Missoula to his farm an hour away. You had enough money to get you to him, but he insisted on paying the train ticket and for you to be promptly delivered to him. Perhaps you should have considered if he was truly lying and was a one-eyed bald man named Bob. That or it was that crazy preacher’s son trying to get you to marry him again. You silently prayed that this seemingly sweet man you had been writing to all winter was actually kind and respectful.

The coach stopped abruptly, it jerked you forwards and forced you to press your shoes into the withered floorboards - yet nothing happened; you were surprised. Your gaze fell to the window, gazing out to see beautiful fields and dozens of trees. Even in the early spring with the remaining spray of snow on the ground, it was gorgeous. You could hear talking, the horse neighed at the front and all you could do was gaze out the window to the massive farm.

There was talking, a deep voice who initiated the conversation with the coach driver - your heart rose into your throat. Was this where you were going to live the rest of your life? Sprawling countryside with whinnying horses, barking dogs, lush trees and dark mountains as far as the eye could see? If it was, you were content - it was better than the flat farmland you lived on your entire life. You spotted a dark brown horse, coming into your view - a nice saddle sat on its back, deep brown hair combed and black spots dotted its belly. You would have spent the next hour admiring the gorgeous horse if it wasn’t for the coach door opening. Your eyes settled on the man who held open the door, covered by a long brown coat and brown shirt. He then held his hand out, you handed him your suitcase.

The man held out his free hand to you with a smile, eyes blue like a stormy sky. It shocked you just how gentle his gaze was, every man who ever looked at you always seemed like they would rip you apart at the seams.

Not this one.

He set your suitcase down, still holding your hand in his calloused one.

Oh. He is pretty.

Dark brown beard with mutton chops somewhat kept neat, teeth a light yellow - better than most men you’ve seen.

“What if he’s mean, Papa?”

“Then you leave.”

“If I can’t?”

“Shoot him in the head. You know how.”

His hold was gentle, better than any man who had grabbed at you when you were a teenager. Disgusting men laying hands on a young girl in the streets, but scrambling back like cats when Pa snapped at them.

“You’re prettier than what I imagined.”

Your jaw almost went slack with shock - he was British? He never disclaimed that to you in his letters, but his subtle drawl of his accent made your stomach quiver. Your lips pulled a smile.

“You have a beautiful voice.”

“She speaks.” He chuckled a little. “Thank you, Miss.”

The coachman closed the door behind you, John then began to lead you towards the horse you were admiring earlier - now noticing the cart attached to it. It wasn’t anything fancy, just something to pull heavy items around. Your trunk already sat on it, he led you towards the seats.

You gazed at his face, the jawline that faded into his neat beard - the way his brown hair seemed to glitter in the sunshine. He was perfect - like the daydreams you had for years.

“It’s a small ride to the house,” John turned to you, holding up your hand to help you into the seat. You stepped up onto the cart, settling down and letting go of his gentle hand so he could set your suitcase beside your trunk. You looked down at your powder blue dress, one you spent all winter making by hand - Mama wasn’t fond of you using her machine. You were proud of this dress, even if it was meant to wear for one day, you’d always be so proud of how nicely it came together, how your first meeting with the man you were to spend the rest of your life with was perfect. Being optimistic is a good trait, Papa always said.

You spent your time watching the landscape as if it moved with you, the short journey felt centuries long as your heart beat faster than a race horse. Life here would certainly be harder than home, seeing that neither of your parents allowed you to help them most days - you were left on your own. Always alone, always doing what was needed without overstepping. This was a whole new challenge; learning where to push and where to pull boundaries with one John Price.

“Have you eaten?”

You glanced to John, noting his one hand on the reigns and the other resting on his leg. Your eyes flickered up to his face, his eyes kept on the trail in front of the horse.

“I have not.”

“I will make you dinner when we arrive. Won’t be long.”

You nodded to yourself, your own hands settling in your lap, squeezing tightly together. You gazed down at your hands, the blue of your dress meant to calm you. What you missed was a soft smile from your betrothed, his gaze memorizing your face for a few seconds before looking ahead.

This is a good choice. New scenery. New people. Far, far away from that damned pastor’s son and Mama’s snide remarks.

I have faith in John. But I hold no trust yet.

Use the gun if you’re ever scared.

Dinner was quiet. He was a good cook, much better than what you were used to and you were secretly delighted. Just a simple pork and potato dinner was better than the porridge your mother barely made edible. You stood like an awkward stranger in the small living room of the one bedroom home, unsure of what to do as John had not asked anything of you yet after dinner. In fact, he was silent the moment you stepped foot into his home.

Were you doing this wrong? What had you done to make him suddenly grow quiet?

There was a dusty couch, a dirt covered rug and a barely used fireplace in the room, your hands clasped together as a way to ease your nerves. He hasn’t opened the door to the bedroom yet, that was the most nerve wracking part. You haven’t shared a bed with a man, not since you were a toddler in your Mama’s bed. It was a terrifying prospect - especially to a quiet and reserved lady, having been chased by many men back home.

At least you won’t have to worry about those leeches anymore. You have a… husband now. You will be a wife. He can protect you. Right?

“I’m sure you’re exhausted.”

You jumped a little, turning to look at John as he stood a few feet away - hands settled in his pockets. The awkwardness clung to your clothes, worry brewing deep in your belly. Does he not like you now?

John settled back on his heels, to your eye he seemed calm - what you couldn’t see was the tensing of his muscles, trying to not be as nervous as you were. The way he forced his jaw open to speak wouldn’t be noticed by you either. “I wanted to uh… thank you. For agreeing.”

You curtly nodded, you fought the urge to pick at your nail beds - a nervous habit. Silence befell the room again, your gaze didn’t disconnect from John for more than a few moments, where he held his hand towards the closed door - what you assumed was the bedroom. Your stomach dropped unexpectedly, your blood grew cold and you could only watch him with a nervous glare. He gazed back at you for just a moment before he spoke to himself, seeming to chastise his previous gesture, before he opened the door. He nodded towards it again.

“I’ll bring your chest in if you want to have a look around.”

Your legs felt like they could give way at any moment, but you still walked silently towards the room - John moved out of your way, making sure there was no chance to accidentally touch you. Acting as if you were made of thin porcelain, one wrong move and you would shatter on the floor. He turned away as soon as you passed, you didn’t miss the near-silent wince he made as soon as he started walking. You looked to him, a fleeting moment, just to memorize his figure before ducking into the quaint bedroom.

A large bed was pushed into the corner, only able to crawl onto the bed on one side. A fireplace across from there, connected to the one in the living room. The floor was bare hardwood, your shoes most likely shielded you from miniature splinters. There was a mirror in the corner, reflecting the entire room from where you stood. Only a few pictures adorned cleaned spaces, photographs of places that you’ve never seen before. A bay, with ships sailing in and out. One with snow covered trees. Another with a decrepit looking house.

You were quick to change. Your eyes watched John through the mirror, his back completely to you. You threw off your nice dress as soon as you untied it - not without a little struggle - before you pulled on a long nightgown, sleeves down to your wrists and hem grazing the top of your feet. You pulled the pins from your hair,

You pulled your quilt from your trunk, your hands gripped it tightly as you turned to face your… fiancé. His back was to you, showing many light pink scars. Some were the size of your pinky, others the size of your palm. If you were brave, you would walk up to him and trace the edges of them - but you weren’t. You waited for John to finish the bed, nerves swirled in your belly. You hadn’t shared a bed with someone since your Mama stopped letting you in hers when you were six. You’re a lady, she said, ladies don’t sleep in beds with men if they’re not wed.

“We’re not married yet.” Your voice was soft, John’s hands halted as they set a pillow on the far side of the bed.

“We are not.”

“We can’t sleep in the same bed.”

The man chuckled a little before he took the pillow closest to him, tossing it onto the floor beside the bed. “I forgot you wrote about that.”

Your grip tightened on the quilt. “About what?”

He yanked off the blanket from the bed, leaving the brown sheets before he dropped the blanket onto the floor next to the pillow. He turned around, it was hard not to try and gaze at his bare chest but you still kept his gaze. “Not sleeping beside each other until we were married. I meant to make my sleeping arrangements earlier but a man’s work is never done.” He shrugged, his smile softened as he nodded towards the bed. “Go on.”

You stood there for a moment, contemplating if you should sleep in his bed when he was to work the farm in the morning, but he held out his hand, the smile never fading.

“You’ll sleep alone just for the week, love.” He nodded again towards the bed. “I promise I’ll be fine on the floor.”

You silently made your way to the bed, hoisting yourself onto it before you spread your quilt over your body and the bed. It was cold, comfortable but not inviting. You supposed it wouldn’t be - you had been in this house for less than a day and the only thing comforting you was your belongings from home.

Home, you chuckled in your head. I suppose home is here now.

John fluffed his pillow on the floor, you didn’t hear an ounce of complaint as he pulled the worn blanket over himself. Your fingers traced the stitching of Mama’s sewing machine, your quilt sheltered you from the scratchy sheets on John’s bed. You could hear your mother droning on about marrying a farmhand, that you needed to go for someone with more money like a politician or a Christian - you didn’t like any man she chose, you shook your thoughts of that away. The first man you had chosen for yourself was far better than any lowlife scoundrel your Mama could find, and she would find ones that couldn’t have kindness anywhere near their greedy hides.

You slightly jumped when John spoke your name.

“Yes, John?”

He cleared his throat. “We’ll marry by the end of the week. I’ll sleep on the floor ‘til you decide you want me up there.”

“Okay.”

The stitching reminded you of home, of your cozy room with as many blankets as your Mama could make. It reminded you of quiet nights sitting with Pa on the porch, letting your mother stew inside after she made a comment that made Pa defend you. It reminded you of being little and standing outside Mama’s sewing room, hands holding your stuffed toy while you watched her sew by hand - one footstep into her room was ten minutes worth of scolding.

As you closed your eyes, you pressed your hands into your sternum. John was to be your husband, which meant children sooner or later. You promised yourself you would never scold your children for wanting to love you.

You hoped John would hold the same value.

[frankenstein-ate-my-left-shoe]

part 2 to this | T | wc: 2,141

🐺🌕🐾🐺🌕🐾

No wonder he didn’t fuckin hear him. His whole brain was focusing on excuses that it drowned out anything else. Without the door opening (which would 100% have shut him up), Steve didn’t have the brain power to listen for even the softest carpet-muffled footsteps.

“Sorry, I was coming to help and then I heard you talking about…” Eddie starts, but trails off, glancing between Robin and Steve, then shakes his head as if getting himself back on track, “But then you said you’d ‘radish’ me and it was so damn funny…”

For a breath, no one says anything. Steve can hear it in Eddie’s breath and in his heartbeat’s slightly quickening pace that he’s just about to say something else, probably some way to excuse himself, when Robin bursts out laughing.

“Seriously! I couldn’t believe it either, ‘Radish’! Ha!” She continues to cackle, doubling over dramatically.

Steve rolls his eyes at her, “Yeah, yeah, Steeb no good with word.”

That just makes her laugh louder. “Oh this is too good, damn, I can’t breathe.” She giggles again, standing straight only momentarily, because as soon as she looks at Steve, she starts cracking up again. “Sorry, sorry, I gotta,” another giggle, a gesture toward the house, “I’m just gonna…” she heads back inside, cackling all the way. He even hears her mumble ‘radish’ to herself again just before she slides the door closed behind her.

“Uh…surpri–”

“You’re really a werewolf?” Eddie cuts him off, then realizes. “Oops, sorry.”

Steve sighs and sinks down onto one of the patio chairs. He looks up at Eddie, still standing by the sliding door, and pats the spot on the seat next to him.

Eddie, of course, nearly trips over his own feet to get over to him, falling onto the chair with enough force to shift the feet on his end backwards an inch or two.

“Yeah, I really am.” Steve takes a deep breath and glances over at Eddie; his eyes are wide and wholly focused onto Steve, more than ready to listen. He huffs a laugh when he lets out the breath. “I’m sure you have questions.”

He’s barely gotten the words out when Eddie starts pelting him with questions. “So, can you like..smell really good? Or hear? How far can you hear? Does everyone have their own scent? If you bite someone, do they become a werewolf too? Do you only change on the full moon or is it a ‘whenever I feel like it’ type thing? Like, are you a werewolf or a Werewolf TM?”

Steve snickers at Eddie taking the time to actually say the letters T-M out loud, but it doesn’t affect Eddie’s focus on asking a million and one questions in the slightest. “What color is your fur? Is it brown like your hair? Do you even have fur when you change? Do you have claws? How big do you get anyway? Do you have a tail? Is the pack thing real? What about the mate thin—”

That’s where he cuts himself off. The bright blush on his face seemed to be the cause; all the blood that he could’ve used in his brain to ask more, suddenly rushing to fill up his face with color.

Still smiling, Steve asks, “You done?”

Eddie gulps down nothing, managing a strangled “Yep.”

“Well, I’m a werewolf, I turn into a…not exactly a wolf, I don’t think, more like a big dog? And it’s not really a moon thing; I can change whenever I want to, though I feel more of a need to around the full moon. It’s easier then too.

“I’m about as tall as I am now when I’m changed, like, my face is right about the place it usually is, and yes, I’m stronger, faster, and have had better hearing and smell since it happened.”

“What happened anyway?”

“Hang on, hang on, I’m still answering your first zillion questions.” Steve says, faux-disgruntled. It makes Eddie laugh and do a weird half gesture slash bow in his seat for Steve to continue.

“Okay, uhm…” He starts to count out things on his fingers, thinking back on what Eddie asked. “Yes tail, yes to everyone having a scent, but that’s already been a thing, you can smell other people too, can’t you?” Eddie shrugs in acknowledgement, “Mine’s just stronger of a smell; Not claws, but I have nails like any other dog.. 

“And the pack thing…” This one was going to be more difficult, “Yes? But mostly only for the kids I suppose. And Robin. Don’t get me wrong, I’ll put myself between any of you and whatever danger comes along, but it’s like in my bones to want to…I dunno, hoard them all away? Wolf analogy would be to put them all in the cave,” he gestures to one side, “and put me in the entrance.” Then gestures to his other side. “Not realistic, but that’s what it feels like.”

Eddie snorts a laugh, but nods, so he continues on. “The mate thing though,” Eddie tenses, “It’s not like the fics, not really at least as far as I can tell.”

“You’ve read werewolf fics?”

Steve shrugs, “I got curious, sue me.” They both fall silent, staring out over the pool.

“How’d it happen?”

He takes in a long breath through his nose; the chlorine stings.

“Couple years ago the shitheads roped me into venturing through these tunnels under Merrill’s Pumpkin Patch. Upside Down related nonsense, of course, and when I was helping them back up out of the hole to avoid this..herd of demodogs, I was still down there when they came tearing down the path.

“I think one of them snuck a taste and that’s what did it. Though I didn’t notice it at first, adrenaline and all; plus the beating I’d taken from Hargrove what, a couple hours before that at minimum?

“I woke up a couple days after everything was over that time as a dog, nearly snapped my bedframe in half with all the extra weight. Anyway, long story short is: I woke up a dog, took me a couple days to figure out how to turn back, then another chunk of time figuring out how to do it on purpose, then Starcourt happened and whatever those guys shot me up with made it so I couldn’t change for a while, made me pretty loopy, but I got Robin out of the whole thing, and told her about wolf Steve while coming down off that truth crap, and that’s pretty much it.”

Eddie blinks at him once.

Twice.

Then, sounding as if he was releasing a breath he’d been holding that whole time, Eddie heaves out a “Jesus Christ.”

“Yep.”

Eddie blinks at him a couple more times, then his face scrunches up as if he’s in pain, “Jesus Christ, you heard me talking about being claimed and shit… I was talking to you about it, uugh!” he drops his face into his palms in exasperation.

Steve hears Eddie’s frantic heartbeat grow faster then, so clear it’s as if he had his ear pressed directly to his chest.

“And you overheard me saying I’d like to radish you,” a loud laugh escapes Eddie’s lips, “So I think we’re about even.”

He’d tried to sound confident and nonchalant about it, but in the breath it took Eddie to finally drag his hands down off his face, Steve’s own heart and thoughts were thundering on. It must’ve really, only been hypotheticals, wishful thinking, fantasy. There’s no way Eddie would actually want him. No way his affections that'd grown for the man beside him in the short month since the world didn’t end, would be returned.

Eddie finally removes his hands, “The full moon is only a couple days away.” he says, glancing up at the sky.

See? Topic changed. Steve knew it’d be too good to be true.

“Yeah, there was one right before everything happened last month.” Steve nods, swallowing down the lump in his throat, “Maybe I’ll come by the park and visit.” He elbows Eddie playfully.

“I’ll make sure Wayne doesn’t shoot ya.” Eddie grins.

Steve snorts, elbowing him again and standing. “C’mon, let’s go back in, I think Robin wants to play Uno.”

- - - - -

True to his word, Steve loped out into the light of the full moon a couple nights later on all fours, trotting away from Loch Nora with one place on his mind. 

Crossing through the forest separating the two neighborhoods, he makes it to the edge of the Forest Hills park in no time at all. He skirts along the edge of the park to where the government had bought and placed the Munsons’ new apology double-wide and hunches low, padding along until he’s under the window he knows is Eddie’s.

Even if he hadn’t known before now, the music he could hear across the highway out by the entrance to the park would certainly tell him which one is the metalhead’s.

He hops his front paws up just under the edge of the window and sneaks a glance inside.

Eddie’s bed is against the wall in this trailer, the end of it falling right under this window, and Eddie is sitting in the middle of the mattress, hunched over his guitar.

Not wanting to scare him, Steve originally wants to just scratch his nails along the sturdy vinyl siding here, but even if he didn’t have enhanced hearing, he’d know that Eddie wouldn’t be able to hear something so light.

So, he barks.

One short ‘boof’ at the bottom pane does it, and if Eddie had been holding anything but the literal most important possession of his, it’d be on the other side of the room with how far he jumps.

“Jesus Chri— Steve?” he asks disbelievingly at the window.

Steve feels his doggy face react to the goofy grin he’d be doing if he’d been on two legs. Tongue lolling out one side, tail swooshing up a mini hurricane behind him, damn he’s obvious.

Eddie comes to the window and Steve drops down onto all fours, plopping down on his haunches while he waits for his friend to budge open the glass.

He finally wrenches it open, grinning down at Steve in wonder, “Look at you, big boy, y’came to see me after all—”

Whatever Eddie says after that is lost to the now-settling wind. 

All of Steve freezes up. His tail stops mid wag, his jaw snaps shut and narrowly misses catching his tongue on his own teeth. 

Because Steve can smell him.

He can smell Eddie.

Screw whatever he’d told him before at his pool, not everyone has a smell. Not one like this.

Sweet and spicy, smoky and delicious, like nothing he'd ever smelled before.

The wolf part of his brain, a mostly mute half of him that seems to be what tells him where the moon is in its cycle, how far away that smell he picked up on the wind is, that holds all his baser instincts, screams “MINE.”

Just before he’s about to fling himself over/onto/past Eddie in the window to get into that trailer by any means necessary, Steve’s conscious human brain grasps onto the last sliver of conscious thought, and not a moment too soon. His legs were couched as if about to leap.

He wrestles his wolf brain back, tucking his tail down (telling it desperately to stop wagging goddamnit), lowering his front paws and nose to the ground and taking lungfuls of dirt smell instead, and backs up.

He takes two good steps back before Eddie’s voice cuts through his hold on himself, “-eve? Steve! What’s wron–?”

His hold on his last strand of conscious thought wrenches him around and sends him flying back into the trees to Eddie’s call of “Where are you going?”

He just needs to stay out of Hawkins, stay in the woods at least, nowhere near where Eddie would find him if he came looking.. At least until the full moon is over and he won't feel that uncomfortable itch beneath his skin to shift if he goes back to two legs.

His thoughts threaten to whirl, why now, why Eddie? Okay, he knows why he’d like it to be Eddie, but really? Mates are a real thing and Eddie is his?? 

The wolf brain rumbles happily and Steve finds himself listing back towards Forest Hills mid-run and corrects himself.

He can’t risk hurting Eddie; what would he even do? His wolf brain says to bite, to claim, reminds him that Eddie wants that too, but wouldn’t that hurt him?? His teeth are, in fact, much larger in this form.

He’s listing again.

Steve shakes his head, empties his head of everything but run, breathe, run, breathe, run…

Daybreak can’t come soon enough.

🐺🌕🐾🐺🌕🐾

surprise! it was always meant to be 'radish' lmao

editing to tag folks who were interested in the last part!

@shainsaw22, @devondespresso, @sageclipse, @allyricas, @hotluncheddie, @stedumpsterfire, @themoonagainstmers, @mugloversonly, @yesdangerpls, @matchingbatbites

[saint-ambrosef]

newbie's guide to produce

for all my peers who were not taught how to shop for veggies and fruit on a budget and struggle to use them before they go bad:

(disclaimer: prices are approximate based on where i live in the Southern US. costs may be higher in your area, but the comparison of cost should still be valuable.)

cheap produce year-round:

roma tomatoes. if they look under-ripe you can leave them on the counter for a few days. keeps in fridge for about 2 weeks. $1/lb.

cucumbers. around here they're 50-60 cents each. go bad quickly though, about 1 week in fridge.

celery. two bucks for a head. starts to get sad after two weeks in fridge. only makes sense if you like to snack on celery or make soups often.

corn. whole ears are like 20cents each mid-summer, otherwise just get frozen. $1.50 for a lb.

peas. get these puppies frozen for $1.50/lb. good protein, too.

romaine lettuce. one head is good for several small salads, about $2 and lasts a week in fridge. the big boxes/multi-packs may seem like a better deal but not if it all goes bad before you can eat it.

onions. kind of a given but you can get regular yellow varietals for less than a buck per pound. will last for 1-2 months in pantry.

potatoes. you can get 5lb bags of russets for three bucks. sweet potatoes are a lil over $1/lb. last 2-3 months in pantry; if they grow sprouts, you can cut those off and still eat it.

bananas. dirt cheap. a small bunch (4-5) costs like a dollar. if they go over-ripe before you eat them all just get less or get a few green ones (p.s: you're allowed to break them off larger clumps).

radishes. $1.50 for a little bundle. greens get wilty after a week, roots will last 2 weeks (you can use both parts).

hot peppers. poblano, jalapeno, etc., are often quite cheap and you usually don't need very many anyways. few weeks fridge or counter.

cheap produce when in season:

summer squash. in summertime (duh), zucchini and yellow squash are like $1.25/lb. only last a week or so though in fridge.

winter squash. actually in season in fall, these are your butternuts and acorn squash. less than $1/lb then. lasts in pantry for months.

green beans. in warm months they can be on sale for $1.50/lb! last 1.5-2 weeks in fridge? (kinda depends on the shape they're in)

kale. it's a cool-season green that commonly is on sale in colder months. $1.60 for a big bunch, about 1.5 weeks in fridge before it gets seriously wilty. (can be eaten cooked or raw!)

apples. fall/winter, usually at least one variety on sale for $1.25/lb. last forever.

oranges. most citrus are winter fruits. $1/lb. will last forever in your fridge.

strawberries. spring. at their peak, i can find them for $2/lb. otherwise they are too expensive.

watermelon. $8 for big 10lb melons. they can take up a ton of space though and need to be refrigerated once cut/ripe.

cantaloupe. another summer star! $1.50 each on sale. they will slow ripen in the fridge but you do have to keep an eye on it.

pineapple. $1.50 in summer time. might be ripe even when still a bit green, ready when they smell noticeably ripe.

pears. fall season, sometimes into winter. $1.20/lb. last 1-2 weeks on the counter or forever in the fridge.

pomegranate. in winter time they can be found for $2 each. tricky to peel though.

peaches. and nectarines (which are just fuzzless peaches). $1.25/lb in summer and will last for weeks in your fridge.

eggplants. summertime veggie, you can get for $1.50 when they're on sale. otherwise a bit pricey. keep in fridge for 2 weeks.

mid-range produce:

cabbage. three bucks for a 2-lb head but you can get a lot out of it. will keep 3-4 weeks in the fridge but any exposed cut sides will start moldering after a week.

mushrooms. white button or baby bella. $1.50 for 8oz. keep in mind, mushrooms halve in size after cooking. ~2 weeks though.

avocados. if you live in the South like me, small hass varietals are 60-80 cents apiece in winter. ripe when it gives just a little to squeezing (you can't go off color alone).

broccoli. fresh is $1.70ish per head and lasts a week in fridge. frozen is $1.50/lb but might be kind of mushy.

most greens. spring mixes, spinach, arugula, etc can really vary in price but often fall into a few bucks at least per bundle/package. in a fridge's humidity drawer they last 1-2 weeks.

kiwis. i love them but they're a bit pricey for their size. 50 cents each. their keep depends on how ripe they are at purchase.

expensive produce:

asparagus. one of the most expensive veggies. sometimes in spring you can get it for $2/lb (a steal but still a bit much). lasts 1.5 weeks.

brussel sprouts. same as above.

red or yellow bell peppers. they are used sooo often in recipes and it annoys me. often $1.50-2.00 each. last a long time in fridge.

caluiflower. three bucks for a head. yikes!

green beans. when they're not in season, they are like $3/lb.

snap peas. same as above, except they never seem to be on sale.

raspberries. go bad in 3 days and cost an arm and a leg. sometimes when they're in season you can get them for like $2 per half-pint as a treat.

blueberries and blackberries. even when they're in season, they're still $2 per pint.

grapes. they can sorta be affordable in the fall season for $2/lb, but otherwise they're double that. and usually you have to commit to buying several pounds. last 2 weeks in fridge.

plums. i love them so so much but they're only in season for like 2 weeks of the year it seems and they're like $3/lb.

inexpensive accoutrements: (for garnishes, seasoning, etc)

limes. 25cents apiece. they'll start to dry out after 1 week on the counter so keep them in the fridge unless you will use it soon.

lemons. usually 50cents each for the small varietals. keep same as above.

green onions. less than a dollar for a bunch, and you can easily regrow a few times at home if you stick the white rooted end in water by a window.

cilantro. 50cents. will last WAY longer (1-2 weeks) if you keep it in a mug of water in the fridge.

parsley. 85cents. same as above.

obviously sticking just with popularly available produce across the country. it's not an exhaustive list but can give you a bit more perspective on what produce you should be focusing on if you're trying to work with a tight grocery budget. good luck!

[solxamber]

Savanaclaw time!!

Jack: You don't need to do something like overblot, you can fully hold your own against Malleus.

(aww he has so much faith in Leona)

Leona is like "yeah no, absolutely not."

Leona: It's unfortunate, Jack. If it were merely a battle of wits, that would be one thing, but trying to hold your own against that monster with only your claws and fangs...

Leona says he's willing to chant whatever it takes if it means that he can cause a little harm to Malleus. (For context, they have to do a little magical girl chant to turn into their OB forms and it's embarrassing)

Leona: But, with this, I've gained another amusement besides beating that lizard bastard.

Leona: When you return to reality, wash your neck and wait for me, radish sprout. ...I'm absolutely going to roll you up in meat and eat you.

[For context: Wash your neck and wait is a idiom for "prepare to die" and Radish sprout refers to Idia]

And then Ruggie teases Leona for a bit

Ruggie: Man, Leona. Seriously, getting involved with Malleus never turns out well, does it~.

Ruggie: The year he became dorm head, he got pummelled in Magift, and in last year's Magift tournament, his dirty tactics were exposed and he got pummelled.

Ruggie: In the dream, he was forced to run around all over the place to wake up the Heartslabyul guys, and in the end, he got pummelled.

(LMAO Leona has been through a lot huh)

Okay now for context, Malleus has like 999999 HP and each dorm does about 100000 dmg and then get overwhelmed by Malleus. So each OB! guy has been going one after the other and weakening Malleus slowly. The order was: Vil, Riddle, Azul, Jamil and now Leona.

Leona: I can torment Malleus to my heart's content, who's been thoroughly beaten by the guys from the other dorms and is now as weak as a gazelle.

Leona: Surround the prey that's strayed from the pack, cut off their escape route, and hunt them reliably...

Leona: Looks like this is going to be a perfect fight for us, right?

Jack: Ideally, I wanted to corner him with just our strength from start to finish, but...

Leona: This time only, the other dorms are also members of the same pack. To bring down a big prey, division of roles is also important, right?

Ruggie then expresses his desire to see a beat up Malleus

Ruggie: The sight of a battered Malleus Draconia kneeling before Leona, which I couldn't witness during the Magift tournament!

Jack is like "you still haven't given up on that?"

Ruggie: Isn't it obvious? Hyenas are number one in the Savanna, we're bad at giving up!

[todayitwillrainblood]

★ sunflowers for your head,

a/n : spoliers for the manga! (to all the anime-only watchers!)

☆ masterlist!

⟲ synopsis;

water aside, the only thing that calms down the evil eye (jashi) is fighting okarun...and [name]'s food. ➝ or, m!reader is an amazing cook, and let's the evil eye take full advantage of that!

★ "when it comes to a snack-pack, i cant lie...i wanna ride! (can i ride?)"

— IT WAS ANOTHER tuesday. okarun had carried out his promise and fought jashi, the latter left defeated and pouting.

however, instead of retreating back, and allowing jiji to take over the body again, jashi walked into the house, where [name] sat, drinking tea along with seiko.

"hm?" [name] hummed in confusion, 'wasn't jiji supposed to be here?'

jashi slumped to his knees, whining softly, "feed me, I'm tired." and looked at [name] with those big, totally innocent eyes, and adorably puffed cheeks. how could he refuse?

[name]'s heart softened, afterall, jashi was just a vengeful child spirit. and, he agreed.

"okay, i'll make you something before you go."

as [name] was cooking, jashi loomed above him, like a curious (and kicked) puppy.

while cream stew was cooking on the stove, [name] quickly prepared two onigiri for jashi to eat as the rest of the food was getting ready, not wanting him to be absolutely starving.

and prepared noodles, along with pickled radish.

as he was cutting various vegetables, jashi, who was slightly bored wrapped his hands around [name]'s waist, resting his head on his shoulder, and silently watched him work.

[name] gulped, feeling heat creep up to his head, he picked up a chopped piece of carrot, bringing it to jashi's mouth, "here, try this, they are very sweet this time around."

"hm?" jashi took a bite, lighting up and happily stuffing the rest of the carrot into his mouth.

"more?"

"hm!" ( :3 )

[name] chuckled, and as the night went on, he fed him more, as various foods were getting ready, he tasted it first, then gave spoonfuls to jashi.

"try this."

"this one is ready."

"hmm! It's a little salty, but it's good."

[name] blew on some rice, making sure it wasn't scorching before giving it to jashi, "i made it with chicken broth so it's tastier."

with every mouthful, jashi grew happier and happier and even more happier and the happiest.

and happy.

anyway, it took a couple of minutes but [name] quickly set up the table and gave his chopsticks to jashi. there were only a few pairs of household chopsticks in the house, one for each person that lived there, and [name] got one since he moved to momo's house. they all had the initials of the person's name of them, along with individually carved designs.

there was also a huge box of wooden chopsticks that were usually only for one use, but [name] didn't want to give that to jashi since they often had splinters in them.

'oh?'

jashi stared very confused at the pair of chopsticks, but never lifted them up or touched the food, waiting like an obedient dog???

"do you not like it?" [name] couldn't tell what to feel.

jashi softly shook his head and confessed, "i want to eat."

[name] hummed in skepticism and blabbered an incoherent string of words.

another beat passed by and a light gleamed in [name]'s head, "ohh! you can't use the chopsticks!" he concluded.

"okay, let me," [name] mixed some stew in with the sticky rice, and picked up some along with a tiny piece of the pickled radish and fed it to jashi, "good?"

jashi nodded happily, his cheeks blushing and his eyes shining bright. "yeah!"

[name] enjoyed feeding him, happy to find that jiji and the evil eye had very similar appetites.

after the food was cleared, [name] said, "oh! i bought some orange juice this morning, you should try it!"

he quickly poured him a glass, "here."

jashi worded it out, then nodded like a disciplined child and gulped it down, giddily licking his lips after.

"oi! [name], it's been long," seiko said from her seat just some feet away, "you should bring back jiji."

[name] perked up, looking at the clock hanging nearby, seiko was right, it had been over two hours. (cooking good food and feeding it takes long, okay?! (///^///))

"oh..." [name] turned to jashi, feeling slight remorse, "you...you should bring back jiji..."

[name] clutched at the hem of his shirt, looking down.

oddly, jashi was feeling shy; he wanted to say thank you.

once, he had accidentally switched with jiji in the middle of the latter watching a romance film. the male lead had thanked the female lead in a...special way. jashi didn't know better, but he felt it to be right.

he grabbed [name]'s forearm, pulling him in so they met chest-to-chest and placed a kiss on his lips.

it was soft, young, and lasted barely more than a blink.

he was gone right after, leaving a dazed and confused jiji and a [name] red in the face.

[theressaicon]

m!Harpy x gn!Reader part 1

Contains: kidnapping, yandere harpy, dead animals, m!Harpy in love, grumpy gn!reader

It's quite windy outside. It doesn't blow that much in the valley where you live. But it's different in the mountains. The weather changes here pretty often. It often rains, but often the sun shines so brightly that the rocks around are as hot as if from a furnace.

Rocky mountains lean around rivers, leading to the open sea where the tides alternate. Even though the sea and beautiful countryside were right behind your village, you never got to see all that beauty.

Until now.

However you didn't have time to admire your surroundings, no... you were too busy with your heavy breathing. You woke up exhausted in a huge nest made out of sticks, feathers, moss and other materials.

The sun didn't shine on you, the nest was hidden in a crack in one of the highest rocky mountains. The angle of the crack prevented the strong wind from reaching you.

Your clothing wasn't built for temperatures like here in the high mountains. As your anxiety subsided and you calmed down from the shock, you hugged your knees to your chest and tried to remember how you got here in the first place.

'Of course... I was harvesting potatoes from the field.' It was before noon. You had cooked lunch from the previous day and most of the work was in your small field, where you grew mostly vegetables to make a living.

Sometimes you sold leftover carrots or radishes, otherwise you managed to not let anything go to waste. Now you're afraid you'll never see your potatoes again.

'Think... Come on, think! What happened after??' you rubbed your temples, frustrated. A shadow. That's what your eyes saw.

It was as if a black cloud had appeared above you, ready to take you away. And it did. You remember kicking your feet violently and screaming while you were in the air.

When you looked up, you saw a black creature staring deep into your soul. You must have fainted, because the next thing you know is waking up in the place where you are now.

„Those men weren't crazy after all." you sighed heavily. From time to time someone would come back from the mountains and talk about flying creatures with human faces and bird bodies.

They were called harpies and parents would scare small children if they wandered too far from the village.

Now here you are, sitting in the big nest with fear in your chest, mentally preparing yourself to be eaten. 'Goodbye my potatoes. Farewell my neglected house. I will miss you, my little field..."

Of course, you could have mourned the people of your village, but probably no one even noticed that you were literally carried away by a demon.

„I'm so young, I haven't even had time to get married..." You were complaining loudly, as if someone could to hear you.

After a few minutes of drowning in your own thoughts, you heard a scream. It resembled a bird's cry, similar to a raven's. If there are birds flying around, it might be safe here right now, right?

The croaking grew louder. It was different from an ordinary bird. Not a good sign. You only realized what was really happening when you heard the flapping of wings. Big wings, slow yet powerful movements.

You jumped to the farthest corner of the nest, trying to hide from the creature that had landed in the crack. The sun cast its dark silhouette, hairs on the back if your neck stood up.

It made clicking noises; unpleasant sounds to your ears. The terrifying creature tilted it's head to the side, observing you from where it stood.

You were terrified when it jumped into the nest with a quick movement. You screamed at the top of your lungs and shut your eyes tightly, thinking it was about to throw itself on you.

When you opened your eyes, it was gone. Was it a dream? No, it wasn't... It's figure peeked out from around the corner of the crack.

Surrounded by black hair and feathers, orange eyes stared in your direction. The sparkle in those eyes was subtle and strangely tender, compared to... the rest.

After a moment of hesitation, it sat back down in the crack without taking its eyes off you. You had time to properly look at it.

Grayish skin, from which feathers grew... And of course huge wings. They were black all over and because it was sitting outside the nest, the wind was ruffling the feathers in all directions.

Where the wings bent, there was a long claw on each one. Like a bat's. They must have served as "fingers," because it had no hands. Instead of human feet, it had huge bird claws, a little lighter than the rest of its body.

You saw fur in one of them. The creature noticed where you had focused your attention and attempted to enter the circular nest a second time.

He left only one claw in the nest and waited for your reaction. You flinched a little, but didn't scream this time. Success.

It finally crouched in the nest and began to make quiet clicking sounds like before. It didn't look you straight in the eye, but it still watched every slightest movement of yours.

You continued to inspect the body that was now crouching before you. Behind its feathered body you saw a black tail. It was very disheveled. You looked back at the face and stared at the crooked nose.

There went the clicking again. Frustration grew in your stomach. „Are you going to eat me?" you sounded almost annoyed. It's clicking stopped.

You figured it would be a male, his features were closer to masculine ones. Next you discovered that the fur he was holding in his claws was a hare when he moved it closer to you.

„...Are you offering that to me?" You asked with low voice. No answer received. The harpy just kept on waiting. „No thanks."

All that could be heard was the strong wind hitting the rocky mountain. „I don't want it." Those orange eyes inspected the dead animal, then pulled it to it's nose, sniffing it.

The harpy's point of view:

'What could possibly be wrong with it!?' Screamed his inner voice. He might have looked serious on the outside, but the truth was... he was panicking.

'It's fresh... Wait. Maybe it's too small?' He poked into it with his claw sticking out of his right wing. 'They are not impressed. They must think I am a TERRIBLE hunter!'

He lowered his head, covered in long black hair. 'I didn't even have a chance to preen myself, I look like a turkey.' Silent chirps could be heard, if only you knew how upset he was with himself.

'No, I will NOT give up! I am going to keep trying!' Then he just backed out of the nest and flew away.

All you could think off was „I AM STILL ALIVE?!".

⊆⊰∹≓≫⊆⊰⋔⋪∡∹≓≫⊆⊰⋔⋪∡∹≓≫⊆⊰⋔⋪∡∹≓

You've been trying to figure out how to escape from that nest for half an hour. So far, all you've figured out is that you're too high above the ground and there's an incredibly cold wind blowing that always makes you crawl back in the warmth of the nest.

And a dead hare is lying next to you. Wonderful, truly. You backed into the farthest corner again when the harpy arrived.

First, he threw a young dead doe into the nest. You swore that it was looking at you reproachfully, that it was because of you that it was now in the harpy's nest.

Swallowing your saliva, you glared at the harpy. He had the audacity to SMILE! Maybe he didn't plan on eating you. Yet he was still a potential threat to your life.

The foul smell from both animals reached your nose, and you started to grimace. The smile of his faded as he rested his head on one of the sides of the crack.

'I KNEW THEY'D WANT THE PREY ALIVE! I AM SO STUPID!' His inner voice yelled. However, the flock was already far away and it would take him at least two hours to get another one.

After a moment of clicking, he flew away for another while. You mustered up the courage to throw those dead animals out of the nest. 'How much strength must he have to lift that weight in flight?' was your question. 'How much strength must he have to lift ME!?'

The only thing left behind were traces of blood where they lay. The smell was still there, but not that intense. His third arrival came.

The bruised rock goat scared the shit out of you. The animal was kicking its hooves in all directions and you were protecting your head from possible injuries.

The harpy dug his wing claw it the back of the animal to stop it from moving, making it scream in pain. He looked confused. And he was.

'I could swear there was a hare with a doe before...' You felt sorry for the suffering animal. „ Please, let off the goat!" Your voice got his attention. „Stop hurting it." you pleaded again.

The orange color of is irises shone into yours, you both were looking for hope in each of your eyes. 'He doesn't understand what I'm saying, is he...'

You protected your face with one hand and gently placed the other on the harpy's stuck claw inside the screaming goat's body. The animal kept violently twitching in pain and jabbing at you with its horns.

He was looking at you as intensely as you were looking at him. Without any further words, you shook your head; slowly but sternly.

'Woah hold up- they are touching meeee!?- UGH their little featherless claws are so cute.. But...' he looked in your eyes for the second time. 'They're frowning. And the head movement...'

Slowly, the harpy's claw stuck out of the animal's back. Blood was dripping down on dry branches the nest was made out of. You moved yourself back again.

The animal was exhausted, but alive. The harpy understood. 'They don't want an alive pray after all.' Shock took over you as he grabbed the rock goat and flew away with it.

You leaned out of the nest and watched where he flew. Next thing you see is him setting the animal down on the ground near a river and starting to return.

It looked like he was going to land in the crack again, but he flew higher than the nest was placed. It wasn't long before the Harpy returned. 'What did he bring this time?'

You were already watching his claws, expecting to see another victim. Instead, he was holding a large branch with leaves and... ripe apples!

'They're gaze is different now! Could this be the right thing?' He carefully climbed into the nest as if it didn't belong to him and moved the branch with the apples towards you.

You didn't hesitate and plucked one of the apples from the branch that was as long as you. You hadn't even had lunch, your stomach was rumbling, so of course you couldn't resist the sweet red apple.

Feathers danced all over his body with happiness. Your hunger was so big you ate other two apples till you felt full.

While you were eating, the harpy looked at you intently and made those clicking sounds again. It was his way of communicating, but you didn't understand him. He figured it out too. Nevertheless he continued.

'It doesn't seem like he's planning on letting me go anytime soon.' You've started to come to terms with reality. 'Might as well give him a name.'

As you finished eating your third apple, you looked at him and thought about what name would suit him. Naming him "Black" was too simple... "Orange eyes" seemed too long. Something short would be nice... Something that represented him. A unique thing of his..,

„Click." He stopped his noises opon hearing your voice. „That suits you." You announced as he tilted his head. „Click." As you repeated, he actually clicked is tongue like before. „Hahah, yes... Click."

His first thought was that you were trying to communicate with him. However, he soon realized that you were not imitating him, but he was imitating you.

⊆⊰∹≓≫⊆⊰⋔⋪∡∹≓≫⊆⊰⋔⋪∡∹≓≫⊆⊰⋔⋪∡∹≓

It was getting dark. The wind was still blowing just as hard, but the temperature had dropped slightly. However, the crack in the rock served as a thermal insulation point, keeping some of the warmth in.

In the time before it got dark, Click managed to replace the bloody sticks and leaves from his preys with new ones and cover them with soft moss.

It was clear that he was taking good care of the nest and was constantly replacing the materials with new ones. He even used the branch he brought you earlier and skillfully intertwined it with others. He was skilled even though he had no fingers.

You watched the sunset through the crack as he was just preening his feathers. He used his wing claws, moving them in all directions freely, as well as his lower claws, which he had instead of feet.

He included his mouth in the self cleaning too, you observed his strong jaw with white teeth. They weren't exactly long and pointy, more like firm and sharp.

'Alrighty, this should be enough...' Click judged his preening work. Then he looked you up and down a few times and clicked a few times as usual. You watched him stand up and swallowing hard.

He alternately raised his claws and stomped on the moss beneath him. In addition to that he repeatedly leaned forward and straightened up. When his head was down, the feathers on his wings fluffed up. And of course, he didn't forget to add THE clicking.

„Ain't no way." you said under your breath. You figured out Click was trying to preform a court dance for you. He was wagging his tail up and down while chirping and squawking.

Despite all his efforts to gain your admiration, he only received laughter. You found it comical how he tried to show off... yet- just maybe... adorable.

Fortunately, he took your laughter as an attempt to communicate, instead of being embarrassed, it gave him a little bit of confidence.

He continued for a while and finally bowed deeply and fell to his knees to show submission. He looked up at you with his big orange eyes, reminiscent of a sunrise.

You didn't know how to properly react, so you just smiled politely and clapped your hands lightly. The expression of your reaction was unknown to Click, but from your smile he could tell that he was doing at least half well.

'They're the one... others would already be plucking my feathers out.' Half-sadly he recalled his old attempts to find a mate. After several years of trying, he realized that his only chance would be to find a featherless harpy. According to the ancient legend, those were the harpies who were destined to never see the ground from above. Those were the harpies, who couldn't find a mate in their past life.

He had no chance of competing with the other males. Different colors, shapes and sounds, only he was black with constantly ruffled feathers.

Once he managed to attract a potential mate to his nest, he then suffered a painful rejection. Whatever nest he built was never as good as the others. But you were still here. You sat in the nest he built. You.

He looked dreamily into your eyes and made the sweetest noises, meaning: “I will provide you with food and water, keep you warm and comfortable, keep the nest looking new, and treat you like a noble."

Click carefully moved closer to your ankle, not having the nerve to even touch you... and clicked his tongue briefly, telling:

„I love you."

a/n: Just a feather boy who looks like a demon, yet tries to be an angel. Will you accept his curt dance? (´ε｀ )

[crimsoncandy04]

It's been a while.

You know what that means? 😏☺️

Time for The Unwilling Sex Slave of The Balladeer pt 4!

After putting your son to bed one night with Wanderer's help, you decide to stay up late and form a plan on how to see Aether again without rousing any suspicion from your partner as you just knew for some reason that he'd insist on tagging along which would make the entire trip futile.

Aether hated Wanderer being with you for some reason.

And you needed to know why.

Because as far as you knew, Aether was being unreasonable and Wanderer was just some dude. A little snappy and standoffish at times but it's not like those things were a crime to display. Right?

You had an idea. But it depended on whether or not your nearly shattered electro vision still worked. Last time you tried to use it you were hurled backwards as the force of any attack it made seemed to be too strong to wield.

You just needed to go outside and get far enough away that the elemental traces wouldn't be too obvious and no sound could be heard. You couldn't leave any trail whatsoever otherwise Wanderer would probably panic and come looking for you and just trigger Aether before you even got a word in.

You had placed your old vision in a small wooden box on your nightstand just in case of an emergency. Getting it was no big deal because Wanderer was still in the kitchen cleaning up after dinner even though it was late (He had spent so long just trying to get Makoto to go to sleep). It's not like you did much housework anyway since Wanderer always made it clear that you were considered physically disabled and making you work too much reflected on him poorly.

You couldn't understand why your friend disliked him so much.

Wanderer was so responsible and considerate. Especially when it came to the fact that you were still trying to get used to using prosthetic arms and legs despite everything.

Wanderer would be distracted.

But he wasn't oblivious nor stupid.

You had to really watch your body language tonight and your expressions.

You slid your vision in your skirt pocket and stepped out into the living room.

Wanderer immediately looked up from the kitchen sink as he finished scrubbing a small pot.

"oh? Do you need something? I thought you'd be preparing for bed right now. Is something wrong?" He asked pleasantly. Still eyeing you carefully though.

You shook your head as you feigned an exhausted look.

"no I'm fine. I just forgot to water the radishes out back. I just want to do that before I forget."

"i can do it for you. Just go to sleep. You look exhausted anyway. Don't worry it's no trouble for me. You should go relax."

His eyes bore into yours.

Oh he knew something was up.

You had forgotten how scarily perceptive and intuitive he was.

You shook your head again.

"sorry I didn't want to come out here and lay more work on you. It's just one little task. I won't even be outside for more than 10 minutes. You already do so much. Let me handle the gardening stuff." You lied.

Wanderer suddenly stopped what he was doing and began to walk over to you. For some reason this made you feel nervous for a second but to your surprise, he passed right by you and went to sit down on the sofa.

"Come here. We need to talk." He pat the seat next to him. You slowly went to join him. He sighed as he turned away from you and rested his elbows on his knees. His hands gripping fistfuls of his indigo hair as he seemed to be silently debating something.

He didn't look at you. But finally he spoke.

"I know you're trying to go see your friend. I presume it's to ask why he doesn't approve of our relationship?" Wanderer's voice lacked more emotion than you were used to.

It felt oddly familiar to hear though.

"yeah. I didn't mean to be sneaky. But I knew he probably wouldn't tell me the truth if you came with me. I just want to know why he refuses to get along with you." You confessed.

Wanderer gave me a long silence again before responding.

"I can tell you. Or rather...Lesser Lord Kusunali can. I'll take you to her myself. But just...I have only one request."

"what is it?"

"The truth about The Traveler's anger towards me right now... might cause you a lot of stress. Please wait until you've had the baby before you let me give you the answers to all of your questions."

His voice sounded so tired suddenly so... defeated in a way you couldn't describe.

"Of course. I trust you. I know you'd do anything to keep me and the kids safe. We're your family after all. I'll drop the subject for now and wait a little longer." You smiled reassuringly at your partner. But he just continued to sit unmoving as his breathing began to sound a little shaky now.

"Wanderer are you -?"

"Please go to bed." He suddenly snapped.

"What? But I -"

"I'm not mad just PLEASE give me a few minutes!" He blurted. You froze for a second.

Was Wanderer... trying not to cry?

You knew when to stop pushing people.

And so without another word, you got up from the couch and went back to the bedroom he and you shared.

Your heart breaking for the man you loved.

What secret burdens did he have to carry that he kept you unaware of?

***Time Skip***

Many months had passed since your talk with Wanderer that night. Things went back to normal pretty quickly much to your relief. And it wasn't long before you were welcoming a baby girl into the home either. Since you had already given your son Makoto a very Inazuman sounding name, you decided to give your daughter a common name from your own homeland, Fontaine.

You chose Margaux. A family name that once belonged to someone who cared for you greatly before your work took you abroad.

And my goodness was your Margaux just as lovely as the maternal grandmother you had named her after.

She had your natural little pout and a full head of gorgeous raven waves. However you were a little disappointed (but not terribly so) to notice that she had her father's blue eyes.

Why did your children seem to be allergic to inheriting your physical traits?

First Makoto and his deep violet eyes and hair.

Now Margaux and her ocean blue irises.

It felt a little personal that the lives YOU carried always seemed to prefer the appearances of their fathers at this point but you just laughed it off and cherished them both nonetheless.

But finally after several long months of resting and bonding with your new baby, Wanderer had kept his promise to you and asked you early one morning if you wanted to go visit the dendro archon still and learn the truth about him and Aether.

You quickly agreed as you believed knowing the truth would help you rest easier at night and quickly you got yourself and everyone ready to go out.

This trip would prove to be anything but restful.

Makoto held onto his father's hand as the four of you entered the surprisingly large and cavernous sanctuary above the akademiya. Everything was bathed in a tranquil soft green and white. With floral patterns designed into practically all aspects of the structure and interior of the throne room which rested in the very center. Large marble walkways suspending it over a large opening below.

You tightened your grip on the sleeping baby girl in your arms as you looked down and thought about the fall that could occur if one weren't careful enough.

A small voice suddenly chimed out happily.

"You're here! And you brought your family this time! I've been wanting to meet these little ones for so long now!" A tiny woman with porcelain skin and hair the color of moonlight suddenly appeared behind you all. Her bright green eyes stared and marveled at your daughter as she rested in your arms.

"So freshly introduced to the world and already such a vibrant dreamer. I think your daughter will prove to be quite imaginative in time." She reached up as you knelt down a little to gently pat Margaux's tiny head.

This was the dendro archoness?

She appeared to be but a baby herself as she turned and waved Wanderer over. Reaching out briefly to hug Makoto warmly as he scurried alongside his father's feet.

"Such a restless young one. So full of life. You should be playing more. After all, don't all living creatures once born into the world require the gentle embrace of the sun and its enveloping warmth as they mature into themselves?" She eyed Wanderer suspiciously but not judgingly so.

"Something tells me your father is very reluctant to let you be on your own while outdoors for too long."

Wanderer averted his gaze as he pulled Makoto back a little.

"Tch. He gets plenty of time to run around. The only problem is catching him."

The small archon laughed a little at this.

"Sounds like a wonderful and healthy little one to me!"

Finally she returned to the topic at hand as she turned back around to face you.

"I'm Nahida. I don't believe we have ever been properly acquainted until today but Wanderer tells me so much about you! You sound like a very sensitive and empathetic soul." Her next words made you feel a little uncertain.

"which is why before I return your memories to you, I want you to promise me that you'll try to keep a level head after you learn the truth. I don't usually ask this of anyone directly, but I'm afraid the things that were removed from your mind are far more unpleasant than you believe."

Your body felt oddly cold.

Why was everyone acting like this would be so terrible?

Surely the truth wasn't THAT bad...

Right?

Upon Nahida's request, you handed Margaux to Wanderer and followed her over to the center of the sanctuary. A floating green orb of light floated just above the ground before you. It appeared to be made of pure dendro energy as the little archon guided the glowing shape towards you.

"if you're absolutely certain about this, and feel ready, just lay your hand upon the memory. Everything should be made clear to you soon after." Her eyes held a small glimmer of sadness as she gazed up at you.

Well.

It was now or never.

You reached out and gently touched the lost memory.

Suddenly you were plunged into near complete darkness.

"Who does that bitch think she is?" A voice of a young man spat as he paced back and forth in the dimness of what appeared to be some sort of factory made of Inazuman architecture.

"She'll be with him. Like always. This time, I'll make sure, she knows exactly who she's dealing with this time. Teach her to respect those who are clearly superior to her!" The man's voice rose and fell with his words as if he was angry but also on the verge of insanity.

You could feel...a strange longing and feeling of inner turmoil emitting from his very presence.

It scared you.

But what scared you even more was when he turned around and you saw his face.

"Wanderer?" You ask confusedly. He says nothing. Clearly unable to hear or see you as you hear the sounds of footsteps charging to the area from an outer hall.

Suddenly you became aware of what was happening.

Scaramouche. The Balladeer...had taken you hostage not long after the point in time you were seeing. But why?

Was that feeling of longing you felt for him... for you? Then why did he do something so heinous?

And was kidnapping you always a part of his plans? Why?

The memory continued on as the world warped around you and became some place else.

A cold and sterile hospital-like room. With your unconscious body laying upon an old operating table. You were still you...

Gloved hands fell across your body's stomach as you lay in your unaware state of mind.

"to think that it was possible... and that... you were almost gone too..." The strained voice of the villainous young man uttered softly as he caressed your sleeping form gently. Lightly rubbing your belly and even leaning down to give your unconscious lips and the small swell of your lower abdomen a little kiss before he turned to leave.

Pausing in the doorway as if he was hesitant about something. Finally you hear him mutter.

"it's better this way." Then vanishing before your world shifted again and the dream-like memory went on.

You saw yourself crying with Aether telling him every horrible thing you endured at the hands of the man who had an unhealthy attachment to you. You saw your mutilated body in the arms of your friend.

He did that to you.

Scaramouche had ruined you.

A coldness filled you as you were almost forced to accept bits and pieces of information that infiltrated your brain. Gaps filling in, certain feelings and thoughts making sense as you felt yourself crumple to the ground.

Utterly defeated and so...so so...

Angry.

But also full of a deep and heavy feeling of sorrow as well.

Because now you knew...why Aether didn't want Wanderer around you.

And in this unstable emotional state, you realized you both deeply loved and despised the same man.

It was too much for you to handle.

So you were thankful when someone came to distract you, and as you sat in a whirling void of flashing memories, you heard your voice suddenly call out to you.

"Are you satisfied now?" The clone of the old unmutilated you asked bluntly. Her feet came to stop just inches from you as she knelt down to your level.

"not really. I feel like knowing all of this has given me more grief than understanding. How could I possibly go back to my normal life after this?"

"Easy. Don't. "

"i have to. What about Margaux and Makoto?"

"well that IS a problem huh?"

"You're not helping"

"no."

The old version of you got to her feet again as she helped you stand on your artificial ones.

"YOU aren't helping us. We both know what needs to be done now. You can't continue like this. But you also don't want to cause your family any unhappiness."

She reached out and wiped a tear from your eye that had fallen without your knowledge.

"It'll be okay. I know you love him. You love your family and your life here that you built from nothing. But..."

She took your hands gently in hers.

"Do you have any love for you?"

Your world went white again then. You thought you had ascended to celestia for a second before you opened your eyes and realized you were laying on the floor of the sanctuary.

You slowly sat up. The little archoness Nahida was still watching over you carefully as Wanderer stood close by attempting to comfort both of your children as he assured them that you would be okay.

"I don't feel so well right now..." You whispered as your head still whirled with emotion. You struggled to your feet. Slapping Wanderer's hand away as he attempted to try and help you.

He said nothing. Immediately drawing back with a mournful look in his eyes but also somehow... accepting.

"thank you Nahida. As much as I would love to spend more time here today and talk with you...I really just want to go home."

The tiny goddess nodded understandingly.

"I'm sure everything you just experienced was quite taxing on you in many ways. You shouldn't feel guilty about wanting to give yourself some rest. After all, most humans tend to crave slowness after experiencing one or two deep emotional scars in their lives. To have relived everything that burdens your mind in one day, I can't imagine how tired you must feel right now."

You said nothing.

Instead as tears fell from the corners of your eyes and rage burned in your heart, you used the final ounces of your sanity to just make it back home in one piece.

You tore off your shoes and jacket in a silent fury. Discarding them both at the front door not even caring about them or your surroundings as violent thoughts race through your mind and more bitter tears fall.

That BASTARD.

That VILE and DISGUSTING man.

How could he...what right did he think...why the hell would someone ever...

The thoughts began and ended in the same second. Because despite everything else this evil man had taken from you

Your freedom

Your body

Your friends

Your life

He had also withheld the truth from you

And took your heart as well.

A piercing and agonized shriek of azure fury left your lips as you kicked the bedroom door off its hinges. Stomped inside the room and just sobbed as you took your anger out on anything you could find.

You grabbed and tore into the pillows on the bed. Knocked over the vanity and threw the chair across the room. You tore everything from the bookshelf beside the fallen vanity and hurled it into the wall then screamed as you finally grabbed the box on the nightstand with your vision inside and chucked it through the window. Scattering glass everywhere as the whispers of concerned passerbys could barely be heard in your ringing ears.

You collapsed to the floor then. Your entire body is shaking as your anger adrenaline crashes finally. It's then that you simply sit in silence. You look at the torn up room and feel both shame and despair.

None of it was real. Yet it most definitely was.

The man you loved...was the same man who had abducted and tortured you...the same man who rocked your two children to sleep at night...was the same man who had your body butchered to his liking and impregnated you against your will...the same man who was so kind and attentive to you and your family...was the same cold hearted being who killed for minor inconveniences...

You wished you had never met him.

How could you go back to normal after this? How could you pretend that you are still comfortable with your abuser in front of your babies simply because they didn't know the truth and would wonder why their momma doesn't like their daddy anymore?

You couldn't do it.

You just couldn't.

A strange feeling of detachment takes over your mind. What could you even do now? He had known the truth and purposely wormed his way into your life as much as he could and why?

Was it perhaps that he did love you in some sick and twisted way?

Or more likely...had he just been obsessed with you and deluded himself into thinking it was genuine affection?

You couldn't look him in the eyes after this.

But what choice did you have?

You notice something underneath the bed suddenly from out of the corner of your eye. A small glass vial full of extracted flower oils, herbs, and two different kinds of rare but local seeds. Together the concoction was intended for pain.

Pain you usually felt some nights in your shoulders due to a botched amputation at some point in your past.

If only you had known that the person who brought you that had been the one who originally caused you to hurt in the first place.

You were needed to feel numb.

You didn't know what else to do. Perhaps a small swig of the good shit would knock you out for a few hours and help you forget about the nightmare you live trapped in.

You brought the vial to your lips.

Sipping a little then waiting a few minutes.

A small tingling sensation in your body.

Just like the feeling of electro being used to snuff out your ability to think properly.

You take another sip of the medicine.

Your head swayed but the feeling of helplessness remained.

Another generous swig.

Another.

Another.

Just please take the pain away.

Make it go away.

Please.

You feel sick. You feel like your heart is beating out of your chest as you hear the empty vial fall to the floor beside you but you don't see it.

You can't see anything.

If felt like you were dreaming actually.

But you were still awake right?

Your chest hurt. In fact it felt like it was getting harder to breathe.

It didn't scare you through.

It felt... relieving.

And wasn't that what you wanted?

You felt like you were falling asleep as you heard something like distant voices shouting for you.

But you weren't anywhere close to them. It felt like they were so far away.

Finally... you felt...free.

Free from The Balladeer at long last.

[ordering-milk-at-a-bar]

The Apothecary’s Travel Guide Chapter 1

Quickly, before we begin, I want to set some things straight about this little fic series.

This fic will use Fem!Reader in both pronouns and body descriptions. I usually stick to gender neutral stuff, but this fic just works better with a female main character in mind (or at least I think so).

While I won’t be going into actual nsfw stuff (maybe in the future, I haven’t decided), this fic will still contain sexual themes and scenarios. This fic is meant for older teens and up. I don’t write with a young audience in mind, both for this fic and in general.

For those of you who are not familiar with The Apothecary Diaries (wtf are you doing here, go watch it), the series takes place in a fictional version of Imperial China. You don’t absolutely need to watch it to read this fic, but you will have a better understanding of things if you have (also, it’s just a really good show, very well written with one of the best female protags I’ve ever seen).

Also, this fic starts before Sunset, so the whole “Twilight is Wolfie” and “Hyrule can heal” things are not known yet.

–

It felt a little strange to be back in the busy streets of the pleasure district after spending months in the rear palace. But it was the good kind of strange. The smell of grilled meat skewers that you missed so much, the paper lanterns hanging overhead, people haggling for better prices in the street side shops, playing games on the side of the road, or drinking tea in teahouses. And of course, beautiful women calling men over to offer ���special services’ in the many brothels.

It’s a sight you’re all too familiar with. Having grown up here, raised by the women of the famous Verdigris House, these things did not phase you. One would think that working in the palace would be quite the change of pace, but if there’s one thing that you’ve learned over the past however many months, it is that the palace and brothels aren’t all that different. A beautiful caged garden full of flowers for the emperor to enjoy looking upon.

In truth, if you had the choice, you would not want to have anything to do with the imperial palace, but given your situation, what could you do? You certainly didn’t ask to be kidnapped and sold off to the palace back then and you didn’t ask to be promoted to lady in waiting to one of the four highest ranking concubines. You were doing just fine as an apothecary back in the pleasure district, thank you very much.

You had originally attempted to stay low, worked as a simple, low ranking servant until your contract expired and then head home. You hid any signs of value that could get you promoted; you hid your ability to read and write, as well as hid your ‘true beauty’ so you wouldn’t become a concubine (even if a servant could only ever become a low ranking concubine). Any extra money you would have earned  from those promotions would just be swiped by your kidnappers, anyway. At least you still got paid for your regular work.

Had things originally gone according to your plan, you would have worked hard and been released within three years. However, now that goal post has been moved quite a bit.

But you shouldn't be thinking about work right now; it was your day off, after all. You were back home (after managing to haggle your way into them letting you leave the palace) and that’s all that matters right now.

I should get some radishes and chicken for soup tonight. You thought as you walked down the street of the makeshift market. You hoped that your father had been eating well. He was never all that good at feeding himself. If he was starving for a few days, the old lady from the Verdigris House would force something down his throat.

Speaking of the Verdigris House, you should probably head there later. Both to say hello to your ‘big sisters,’ but also so you could take a bath there. They’d likely want some medicine, too, now that you thought about it. The last time you delivered medicine there was the day you got kidnapped.

Heh. Even on my day off I’m running errands.

With your little morning shopping excursion done, you stuffed the ingredients into the basket you carried on your back and started heading to that familiar little shack you affectionately called home. Dad should be in the fields tending to the plants right now. Honestly, he was getting too old for that trek, especially with his busted knee, but you couldn’t deny that he loved that little garden he’s cultivated over the years. Not like you were any different when it comes to your passion for medicinal herbs. As your master, he taught you everything you know about medicine; what herbs work in which situations, what to use and what to avoid, how to make medicine, what plants, mushrooms and animals were poisonous and which weren’t, etc. He was a very learned man, having studied both eastern and western medicine. With a few more years of teaching, you might be as good as him, or you hoped so, at least.

Finally you reached the calm little neighbourhood you grew up in. It was on the very outskirts of the city, not even protected by the tall stone brick walls. Looking at the small sizes of the houses, barely larger than your average shack, told people that this was where the poor lived. It wasn’t much, but it was home. Truth be told, your father was an excellent medical expert, even having worked in the palace before from what you’ve heard, but for all his skill and knowledge, he had terrible luck, which is why he ended up living here instead of somewhere more fitting for his stature.

But when you got to your little childhood home, you were met with a worrying sight. A woman you didn’t recognise, worry and uncertainty written on her face, knocking on the front door of your home. That’s strange, did she need medicine? You didn’t recognise her servant uniform, but she seemed to be from one of the inns in the area.

You called out, catching her attention immediately. “Are you looking for the apothecary? He’s currently out, but I can leave him a message.”

“Please help, it’s a medical emergency! Someone’s been poisoned!”

Your face immediately turned serious as you dropped your belongings before running inside the shack to retrieve an emergency med kit. “Lead me to them.”

--

People had gathered around the doorway of the inn, clearly all in a panic, but not sure on what to do.

“I brought the apothecary. Please step out of the way.” The two of you moved past the seemingly small army of staff and patrons.

What you saw seemed to match what the woman had told you before. A man lying on the bed, restless, breathing erratically, hands clenching at the fabric of his clothes right over his heart. Immediately you entered your ‘work mode,’ practically diving next to the man. First, a physical check up.

You pried open the man’s eyes, looking into them; you checked his pulse and stuck a finger into his mouth. Judging from the spittle running down his chin and trace amounts of sick on the bed sheets and his blue scarf, it’s safe to say that he had vomited. Still, you pressed down on his solar plexus to induce more of it. It would help expel whatever caused this reaction, but it would also dehydrate him. There was a hrrk, and spit came pouring out of his mouth, which you wiped away with the bedsheets you had gripped.

Suddenly, a new man with brown hair and eyes came running through the door with what seemed to be a waterskin in his hands.

He was just about to offer the water to the man you were tending to, but you shouted at him: “Don’t let him drink that! Charcoal- we need charcoal!” The startled man dropped the item onto the floor, but recovered just as quickly, running off once again to retrieve the required item.

You repeated this process several times on the victim; making him vomit, wiping the bile away ad nauseum until nothing but stomach acid came out. The man was able to breathe much easier now, no longer hyperventilating. Thankfully, at your request, the charcoal had arrived just in time, which you quickly ground up with your mortar and pestle.

“This’ll be rough on his throat, but it’ll flush the toxins out of his body.” You spoke as you poured the fine powder into his mouth. Some of the men, who you assumed to be the patient’s associates, had gathered around the two of you, clearly worried.

“Wa… Water. Please…” Those were the first words you heard him speak, weak, but nonetheless a sign that he was recovering.

“Not yet. I’m sorry, but you’ll have to endure this a little bit longer.”

Though unhappy, he accepted and resigned himself to his scratchy and dry throat for the time being. Finally you were able to remove yourself from the bedside, letting the other men move the patient while the inn’s servant ladies removed the soiled linens.

First damn thing in the morning and I already have to deal with an emergency. I only just got back. You grumbled in your mind as you looked at your filthy hand. Ugh. I really need a bath. You sighed both from relief and exhaustion.

“You doin’ okay, Captain?” One of the taller men with brown hair asked while holding him up so he could stand.

The patient - now identified as ‘Captain’ - took a breath. “Much better.” He then turned his attention towards you. “Thank you. I was certain that I was a goner.”

“I am simply doing my job. There is no need to thank me.” Utilising some water in a pitcher that one of the servants offered, you wiped your hands with a damp cloth.

You then took out a wooden slip, wrote just a couple characters on it and handed it over to the servant woman who you first encountered. “Deliver this to doctor Luomen and bring him here. He should be by the south wall.”

With that, the servant gave you and everyone else in the room a small bow before leaving.

The man with a blue hat turned his attention to the patient, who had once again been laid down onto the cleaned up bed. “Now I know that stuff took you out; you didn’t even try to flirt with your “guardian angel”.”

“So that’s your impression of me?” The sarcasm in his voice was evident. “Glad to know that it took me almost kicking the bucket to change your opinion.”

--

Within about half an hour, the servant had returned, your father in tow. It took longer than you had hoped, but given your father’s age and condition, it wasn’t all that surprising.

He took a good look at the patient and asked some questions.

“I suppose you did an adequate job here.” He gave you his trademark gentle smile after he was done with his examination.

“‘Adequate’?” You ask, annoyed.

A man who you assumed to be the owner of the inn came into the room. “Thank you, doctor Luomen. You are the best medical expert one could ask for.”

“Don’t thank me. My daughter did all the hard work.”

“Tell me, how much do we owe you? Name your price.”

“There’s really no need-”

You nudge your father’s side with your elbow. “Can you pay rent this month?”

“Ah… Well, in that case, I’ll take the usual fee.”

This was one of his habits; undercharging for his work, or even failing to charge at all, much to your distress. You understood the desire not to take money from people who were already struggling to get by, but this was not the case.

A tall blond man in heavy armour came up to you, holding out a small-ish sack. “Please, allow us to reimburse you as well. We owe you a lot.” Seeing no reason not to, you accepted the item.

With that, your father and the inn’s owner head into another room to discuss payment, leaving you to gather up your tools.

From the corner of your eyes, you noticed a few of the men fidgeting nervously or giving each other glances. They obviously wanted to say something. You didn’t know why they were hesitating. Sure, you might have sharp, mean-looking eyes and you didn’t smile all the time, but there’s no reason for these numerous grown men to act like this around you.

“Can I help you?” You broke the ice. No point in delaying this.

The one who you assumed to be the leader cleared his throat. “Actually, we’d like you to answer some questions we have. We’re travellers from afar, you see, and we don’t know much about this place or nation.”

They came all this way here and they don’t know the first thing about where they are? “You’re in the country of Li, specifically in the capital city of both the nation and the Central Province. I’m not going to judge how you choose to spend your time, but if you wanted to go sightseeing, I wouldn’t exactly recommend coming to the pleasure district first.” You raised an eyebrow. Just who were these people?

You saw that a few of the mens’ faces had turned bright red when they realised where they were. “Ha! Told you that this is where we ended up.”

“Are you implying that you frequent these kinds of places, Captain?” It sure seemed like these two had a penchant for arguing. Even during the time while you were waiting for your father to arrive, you noticed that they kept butting heads.

“Enough, you two.” The oldest shot them a quick glare. “Either way, it’s good we left Wind with Four back at the city outskirts. Both because of the inappropriate nature of this place- no offence…”

You shrugged. “None taken.”

“... But so that they wouldn’t have to see you get in trouble like this.”

“You are the apothecary here, right? If so, then you should be familiar with people who have gotten injuries.” You nodded. “Have you heard anything about encounters with any strong monsters, particularly those with black blood?”

Alright, now you were really confused. Monsters? Black blood? Was this some kind of way of informing you of a new disease spreading among the troops of enemy nations? But if so, why not tell this to an army physician instead of a random apothecary?

“Can’t say that I have.” You spoke up after having given it some thought. “Though I have to admit that I have been working in the inner court for the past few months, so I’m not caught up on the goings on outside the palace walls. But if you are telling the truth, I’m certain I would have heard rumours.” Thinking back, Xiaolan - a girl you had grown a friendship with when you were a simple servant at the palace - sure loved her gossip, and if there was one thing she loved more, it was sharing that gossip with you over tasty snacks and food.

“Thank you anyways.”

While this conversation didn’t seem like it yielded much, it did get your gears turning. It was time to do some espionage- or rather, some investigating. Something you’ve gotten pretty good at lately, if you said so yourself.

“Please wait here while I get you some medicine.” With a quick bow you left the room. In truth you had already prepared the medicine while waiting for your father to arrive, but this was still a convenient excuse.

As quietly as you could you hid yourself behind the sliding door and pressed your ear against it. Sure enough, once the men in the room believed you to be gone, they started talking. Words like “monsters,” “eras,” “shadow” and others got thrown around as if it was common knowledge, yet it only served to confuse - and intrigue - you further. One thing was certain; these were not your regular, run-of-the-mill travellers.

Your earlier talk also gave you an opportunity to scrutinise their appearances. Given their unfamiliar clothes and armour, plus features like light coloured hair and eyes, and their utter lack of knowledge of where they even were, you assumed them to be from a distant land, the west, most likely. But that was before you noticed one curious detail that they all shared; pointed ears.

This one thing had you calling things into question. Sure, the world was a large place, but in all your years of studying medicine and the human body, you’ve never heard of any group of peoples with such a distinctive feature.

But now came the question of what to do. What were you going to do about this suspicious group? Should you report them in case they were here to cause trouble? To be honest, you didn’t want to get involved. No point in sticking your neck out for these strangers and possibly risk getting accused of treason. You’ve done your job, you healed them, and you’re about to give them their medicine and leave. There’s no need to let them occupy your mind anymore. You’d steer clear of them from now on. Yeah, that sounded good.

Finally, you pretended to have returned from your ‘excursion’ and knocked on the door. Given the sudden silence from the room, it was safe to assure that whatever they were talking about was not for others to hear.

Walking up to the Captain still in bed, you handed over a small paper bag. “Please take this for the next few days. It’ll ease your stomach and help with getting rid of any lingering toxins. I would recommend drinking it as tea.”

The one who you had identified as ‘Legend’ from when you were listening in groaned. “Ugh. This whole thing’s been a wash. You guys ready to head back to camp?”

A unanimous ‘yes’ was heard.

--

Ironically enough, you could not get those men out of your head. Was your intuition trying to tell you that there was something wrong with them? Or were you simply curious? They were certainly the most interesting people you’ve met in some time.

They had already left the inn and you had headed in a different direction. You did finally manage to get that warm bath you were looking forward to. And getting to speak to your ‘big sisters’ at the Verdigris House was nice. But still your mind was occupied with something else. Damn it, this was supposed to be your day off, but you haven’t been able to relax completely!

You kicked a small rock in front of you in frustration. Hopefully having dinner with your dad would help alleviate your problem.

Suddenly you felt an all too familiar feeling of being pulled backwards.

Well, this wouldn’t be your first kidnapping.

--

And Wars will have to suffer through that dry, ashy throat for the remainder of this fic- lol jk.

A.N Fun fact: did you know that other than Twilight (who has lived among humans for a long time), technically, Legend is the one who has interacted with humans the most? The people of Koholint Island had short, round ears, as did the people of Holodrum (Oracle of Seasons), Labrynna (Oracle of Ages) and Hytopia (Tri Force Heroes).

[sturnsbaebackup]

SHY - M. STURNIOLO (PART TWO)

i highly recommend reading part 1 first, which is linked here!

summary; after madi and nick set up their plan to make you and matt fall in love, you’re finally going over to their house to film for the first time… and the connection between you and matt only grows stronger

warnings: she/her pronouns used, mentions of gagging. purely fluff!!!

—

your car ride to the sturniolos apartment consists of nothing but a very happy madi in the passenger seat and severely shaky hands. so much that madi almost had to take your spot in the drivers seat a couple times because you haven’t been able to steer correctly.

when you arrive in the parking lot outside of their complex, you sit in the car for a minute to regain some control of your emotions. as deep breaths exit your nose, madi speaks up. “y/n, you’re going to be fine i promise. now can we go inside? i don’t want to keep them waiting any longer,” she begs. you exhale sharply, nodding your head as you grip the door handle.

before you can even realize it, you’re standing in front of their door as madi gently knocks on the door. you fully snap back into reality when you see matt’s face at the door, greeting you both with a big teethy grin. “hi guys! come on in!” he says, stepping aside for both you and madi.

their house isn’t necessarily the cleanest place you’ve ever seen, but you can tell that they put in somewhat of an effort to clean it for you guys. you smile at nick as he comes running to the door, pulling you into a tight hug. “y/n, hi! i’m so glad you came!” he smiles, making your heart swell with joy. even if you’re in shambles from your nerves, you’re still super joyous that you’ve been adapted into their lives so quickly.

“so before we start the video, we need to go to the grocery store. for some context, we’re doing a challenge where we all buy a few gross or weird foods of our choice, and line them up on the counter. we have an app that when you put a bunch of fingers on it, it randomly selects someone and whoever gets picked has to eat the next food item in the lineup,” nick explains.

“oh god, this sounds awful,” you groan, earning a laugh from a few people.

“this sounds fun y/n! lighten up,” matt teases, nudging your shoulder lightly as he does so. you blush a little and that pit from a few days ago immediately comes back.

“okay people we don’t have all the time in the world, so let’s go!” nick exclaims, pushing you and madi out the door. the five of you get into the car, driving to the closest grocery store. you all go in and make sure to separate so that you don’t spoil your items to one another. each person is supposed to buy 3 items so that the total will add up to 15 items. your items of choice are horse radish, sardines, and to be nice you decide to add unicorn pudding cups.

while you’re using the self checkout, you see chris appear in the line in your peripheral vision. you notice him trying to peak at your items, and you turn your head to him. “stop cheating chris!” you say sternly, making him roll his eyes.

“i wasn’t even looking at you y/n,” he lies, knowing damn well you both know he’s bluffing. you just chuckle to yourself and secretly place your items in your bag, making sure chris doesn’t see. eventually everyone finishes their quick shopping, and you all head back to the apartment to begin the video.

“hi guys! today we’re going to be playing disgusting food roulette, but we have a couple special guests with us! c’mere guys,” nick says, wrapping both his arms around you and madi to drag you both into frame.

“hi guys,” madi says softly with an awkward smile.

“and for those of you who don’t know who y/n is, she’s a great friend of madi’s, and one of our newest friends! her socials will be linked below, so go check out her stuff! she posts a lot on tiktok and instagram, so make sure to go follow her! you can expect to see her in a lot more videos,” nick says smiling at you. you smile back, truthfully unsure of what to say.

“yeah yeah okay we get it nick now stop kissing y/n’s ass and let’s reveal what foods we bought,” chris groans, making you flip him off.

“chris is just mad i caught him trying to look at my foods at self checkout,” you shrug. chris gasps and immediately throws his hands up in defense, “you’re just full of yourself! i was not looking at you,” he rolls his eyes playfully.

“okay chris, leave y/n alone,” matt chuckles, putting his bag of food on the counter. per usual, this sets off that feeling in your stomach once again, but not as bad as before. you’re starting to embrace the obvious feelings you have for matt, and you’re actually okay with that. once everyone reveals their items, it’s time to let the fun begin. “okay guys put your finger down on the phone screen! whoever’s finger gets the little white dot under it has to eat the food,” nick says as you all place your fingers on the phone screen.

the first couple of items on the counter aren’t very bad, but as you further along the line things start to get bad. unfortunately you get chosen to eat the horseradish. “clearly this is my karma for buying this,” you groan, hesitantly placing the spoon into the jar. you quickly shove it into your mouth and swallow, trying to forget about the fact you’re eating horseradish. the taste fills your throat and begins stinging your nostrils from the pungent smell. you start gagging a little, and everyone bursts out laughing.

“fuck oh my god! this is disgusting!” you say, leaning over onto the counter in disgust. you pray that you get the coconut water since it’s the next item, but unfortunately it goes to matt. he takes a sip and scrunches his face a little, and you groan at the gross taste in your mouth. nick and chris are arguing in the middle of the kitchen, while you and matt stand off in the corner. “do you want a sip of my coconut water?” he chuckles, and you accept it gratefully. even if it tastes nasty, you still drink a few big gulps to get the taste of your previous item out of your mouth.

eventually it gets to sriracha sauce, and you’re afraid of getting that as an item seeing as you don’t do good with spices. and of course with your luck, you do. “oh fuck me!” you groan, lifting the spoonful of it off of the counter. you take a deep breath before putting it in your mouth, groaning at the burning sensation on your tongue and lips. you have an overwhelming mix of different disgusting tastes and sensations in your mouth, making you fall to the ground out of disgust and discomfort. everyone laughs at your reaction, and matt lifts his hand out for you to take as a guide back on your feet.

thankfully along the way you get a few good items, but the next item is that stupid pepper chris bought. everyone is deathly afraid of getting it, but unfortunately matt is the one who gets chosen. “you’re joking, you’re actually fucking joking! i’ve gotten all of the worst items!” matt cries out while dragging his hands down his face.

“oh no poor matt,” madi laughs, and matt just groans. he takes a bite of the pepper, and immediately his eyes start watering. he falls to the floor and just curls into a ball while groaning in pain. you all let out a laugh, but after a few moments you guys start getting a bit concerned.

“matt are you okay?” nick asks. matt just looks up at everyone and pouts with little tears welling up in his eyes. you make a little frown at him while letting out a little chuckle. he gets to his feet and stumbles over towards you, pulling you into a hug. he isn’t necessarily thinking clearly, seeing as his mouth, throat, lips, and basically sinuses are all on fire. your eyes widen, but you hug him back gently. you let out a few chuckles, and nick hands him a glass of milk to try and subside the burning sensation in his mouth.

“i’m going to bed, goodnight everyone,” he sadly laughs, waking to his room. you all burst out laughing and end the video without matt.

“someone should go check on him, y/n can you go make sure he’s alive? we need to clean everything up,” nick asks while giving a look to madi. you roll your eyes at the two of them, “yeah sure,” you say in an annoyed tone. they’re making their plan so obvious that even chris is starting to pick up on it.

you softly knock on matt’s door and you hear a muffled voice telling you to come inside. you walk in and his room is surprisingly clean. the lights are off and he’s laying in his bed hugging a pillow, with the empty glass of milk on his bedside table. “i was tasked to come make sure you’re alive. you doing okay?” you ask.

“my mouth is on fire,” he groans and you laugh a little.

“do you want me to get you anything?”

“more milk, please,” he practically begs. you nod and take his empty cup to the kitchen. when you bring it back to him, he’s now sitting up in his bed with his phone in hand.

“fuck, thank you so much y/n,” he says before chugging the whole cup in under 5 seconds. you let out a giggle and he just smiles at you bashfully. he pats the end of his bed, signaling you to sit down on it. your heart rate begins to increase but you do as you’re told and sit down.

“y/n, i know we just met and this might seem a little quick… but i think you’re really pretty and sweet. i was wondering if you maybe wanted to grab food sometime? and i know it’s a little awkward since you just saw me crying from eating a pepper, but it’s the first time i’ve actually gotten the chance to ask you this,” he chuckles and you laugh at the end of his sentence.

“oh my gosh of course matt! i’d love to,” you blush, this time not even worried if he can see your cheeks turning pink. you both figure out a date and time, meanwhile madi chris and nick are all secretly standing outside the door listening in. you exit matt’s room and you see them not so slyly trying to pretend they weren’t listening.

“you guys suck, you know that?” you jokingly say, and they all just shrug.

“have fun at dinner with matt on saturday,” nick winks as you exit their apartment. you just roll your eyes with a smile, “yeah yeah whatever nick.”

[eatmyass-x]

One afternoon while Wei Ying is preparing dinner, A-Yuan looks up from his toy trucks and asks, “Baba, how comes lots of people in my class have a mom, but I don’t?”

Wei Ying’s hands falter at the chopping board. “Every family is different,” he explains carefully. “One mom, two moms, one dad, two dads. There’s loads of options.”

“But who decides?”

“What do you mean, baobei?” Wei Ying asks.

A-Yuan looks at him like he’s being silly. “Who decides who gets one baba, or two babas, or ten babas?”

Wei Ying laughs. He’s relieved A-Yuan only seems curious and isn’t upset. “Well, grown ups usually decide if they want a husband or a wife. And then they have baby radishes together.” He gives A-Yuan’s nose a gentle poke, making the boy giggle. “But some people like me decide to do it alone.” His explanation is probably not the best, but A-Yuan’s questions have admittedly taken him by surprise.

“So grown ups can have a husband or a wife…” A-Yuan holds up two sticky fingers to demonstrate. “And Baba still doesn’t have anyone?”

“I—” Wei Ying is gobsmacked. He stares at A-Yuan with his mouth agape. A-Yuan looks at him expectantly, like he’s waiting to hear an explanation as to why his Baba is incapable of finding love. Wei Ying quickly turns away and starts plating out their food. “Dinner’s ready.”

“Aunty Yanli said—”

“Eat up, baby.” Wei Ying grins wide and feeds A-Yuan a mouthful of rice, effectively shutting him up. And that’s the end of that.

Or so he thinks.

The next morning on the school playground, A-Yuan escapes from Wei Ying’s hold the second he spots Lan Jingyi, running into his friend’s arms like they’ve been separated for years. They see each other every weekday, and sometimes on the weekends too.

Wei Ying laughs and spots Jingyi’s dad looking similarly amused. The sun is out today and Lan Zhan’s pretty eyes sparkle in the sunlight. He’s utterly breathtaking. Wei Ying's heartbeat still stutters every time they see each other, and they see each other almost every day. It’s humiliating, really.

“Good morning, Wei Ying,” Lan Zhan greets, voice as rich and low as ever.

“Morning, Lan Zhan.” Wei Ying gives him a big, beaming grin. “How was your weekend without us?”

Lan Zhan doesn’t quite smile, but there’s laughter in his eyes. “Messy. Jingyi got into—”

“Mr Lan! Mr Lan!” A-Yuan runs back over and attaches himself to Lan Zhan’s leg like a limpet, creasing up his neatly ironed slacks.

“Yes, A-Yuan?” Lan Zhan’s hand instinctively goes to A-Yuan’s head, patting it like he does his own son’s.

“Baba needs a husband, Mr Lan,” A-Yuan says.

Wei Ying’s blood runs cold, his whole life flashing before his eyes. “A-Yuan, no—!” he splutters, trying to get the boy to stop.

But A-Yuan forges ahead without a care, voice filled with glee. “Can you marry my Baba please, Mr Lan? Then me and Jingyi can be real, actual brothers and be together forever! And then— And then we can all live happily ever after!”

“That’s enough, A-Yuan!” Wei Ying exclaims. His body feels like it’s on fire and he can hear the blood rushing in his ears. He crouches down to be at eye level with A-Yuan, despite the shakiness of his legs. “Remember what we said about thinking before we speak?”

“Ummm… that we should think before we speak?” A-Yuan blinks his innocent doe eyes up at him like he hasn’t just ruined Wei Ying’s life.

“Exactly,” Wei Ying sighs. But he doesn’t have it in him to get upset or annoyed with his son. “It’s time for you to head into class. Your teacher’s waiting for you.” He kisses A-Yuan on the forehead. “Bye bye, radish. Love you.”

“Bye bye, Baba! Love you too!” A-Yuan gives him a fat, slobbery kiss right back and then skips off to his classroom, hand in hand with Jingyi.

Wei Ying grits his teeth and slowly stands back up. Time to face the music. “I’m so sorry, Lan Zhan. I promise I didn’t put him up to it.” He doesn’t quite have the courage to meet Lan Zhan’s eyes. “He’s been asking questions about families and moms and dads and I don’t know, maybe I didn’t explain things properly. I’m so sorry, Lan Zhan.”

“No need to apologise,” Lan Zhan tells him.

“No, but there is!” Wei Ying insists. “Tell me how I can make it up to you?”

When there’s no response, Wei Ying braces himself and hesitantly looks up. Only to find that for some strange, inexplicable reason, Lan Zhan is smiling. “Let me take you out to dinner, Wei Ying.”

“What?!”

“A date,” Lan Zhan explains, like it isn’t clear enough already. “To make it up to me.”

“But Lan Zhan, I— You—” It seems that all Wei Ying is capable of today is sputtering and making a fool of himself.

Lan Zhan steps closer, still with that amused glint in his eyes, and gently brushes away a strand of hair that’s blown into Wei Ying’s face. “Don’t you want to live happily ever after, Wei Ying?” he asks.

Wei Ying feels like he’s died and gone straight to heaven.

[wannaeatramyeon]

The Crew Heads with Reader: Dinner

G/N. (Jake Kim, Eli Jang, Johan Seong, Samuel Seo).

Bro Code | Dinner | Shopping | Television | Gacha | Board Games | Suits

The manchildren are ignoring each other.

It's for the better, really, considering their temperaments.

Johan (slouched, head propped up by his palm) and Samuel (straight backed, perfect posture) sit opposite. A worn, beaten dining table separating them. Both deliberately keeping their gaze on their phones, scrolling half-hearted through social media and trivial articles, faces lit up by bluelight.

Anything to try and block out one another.

Occasional sounds ringing out from their devices, joining the backdrop of sizzling and clanging floating out from the kitchen down the hallway.

Dinner shouldn't be too far away, judging by the smells. Even if Jake and Eli are helping, at least with you taking the lead, they won't be able to get away with anything untoward such as adding a hearty dose of cyanide. 

If you don't do that first, that is.

Facilitated by your presence, an uneasy, delicate truce hangs in the balance between the Crew Heads. Could be broken by the most miniscule interruption. 

Someone breathing too loud.

Someone taking up too much room.

Someone-

"YOU KISSED?!"

Johan and Samuel lift up their heads in unison at your voice. 

Followed by a screech (also yours).

Then - BANG!

Something heavy clatters in the kitchen.

The sound of an indignant shout (Eli's), yelping (Jake's), after a resounding smack (likely courtesy of you). 

One, or both, of them must have pissed you off.

Nothing new there.

They both return back to their phones, trying to keep the strained peace but-

Eyes lock, long enough to antagonise. Samuel's, full of patronising superiority and Johan's, narrowed with distrust and disdain. True feelings laid bare.

Neither look away.

The seconds tick by. Grows into minutes.

Samuel, always having a complex to soothe, pokes him first. With a smirk, "So you took my advice. Stealing shoes worked out well." 

Lips pressed tight and ears burning, Johan glares at him. Taunting tone matching his, "So did being Eugene's dog."

Samuel's expression takes on a dangerous edge, "How's your eyesight-"

Johan clenches his fist, white-knuckled and tense. Prepares to lunge to punch that smug look off his face-

"DINNER!" 

You slam down a large pan of kimchi stew in the middle of the table. Breaking the tension and whatever trouble is stirring.

No doubt Samuel is the instigator, and you throw him a dirty look as he holds your gaze for a just moment, before rolling his eyes and looking away, tips of his ears burning red.

Called it.

Johan huffs, small and pleased and victorious. Hand reaching out for a serving-

"Not yet," you chide, slapping his hand away with chopsticks and you are greeted by a look reminiscent of an annoyed cat.

Jake and Eli join soon after, carrying the rice and banchan. Jake gives Eli a grin, looking pleased with himself as the latter pointedly ignores him.

"Seriously, you can join Big Deal. Maybe as No.7. Lua would kill me and I can't bump Lineman."

"I said no." Eli sits down, as far away as possible from the Big Deal boss.

"I heard Jerry and Warren are getting friendly." Jake picks up the pickled radishes. "They would probably like fighting alongside each other.” 

Eli pinches the bridge of his nose. Somehow this guy is even more persistent than his own toddler. “For crying out loud-” 

"No. How many times! " Your hands dart out to grab Jake's around the wrist.  Intercepting him about to add the pickle juice into the stew. Poised to ruin it for the rest of you. Speaking slowly and clearly, you stress, "No. Pickle. Juice."

"It tastes better, trust me." He tries for a winning smile and is met with groans all around the table.

"No." 

"It tastes like shit."

"Keep it in your own bowl."

"I don't trust you."

Jake, defeated, clicks his tongue. "Fine. You all have no taste."

"Us?" Eli scrunches his face. Jake opens his mouth, but is cut off before anything comes out, “And no! Stop asking Hostel to join with Big Deal. We are not a family.”

Taking this as an opportunity to get even with Samuel, Johan growls, low and menacing, "What the fuck did you say before?"

Samuel sneers, finding no threat in this boy, "I said-"

You sigh.

So long, pleasant meal.

So long, keeping the peace.

You let the noise and angry voices wash over you, serving yourself a portion. At least it won’t get physical with you around (and you’re proven right when they keep casting shifty looks over, as if waiting for you to tell them off).

Better to let them get it out of their system like this, you think, tucking into your food.

[lewiscarrolatemybrain]

bby a-Yuan as cute things my niblings have done

a-Yuan, fresh out of the bath, sitting naked in LWJ’s lap and using his big sleeves like blankets

LWJ: Can you dressed now, please? It is cold.

a-Yuan: No! I want to be cold!

LWJ: You want to be cold? Why?

a-Yuan: So you have to hold me UwU

----------------------------

a-Yuan: Qing-jie, you wanna know how tired I am?

WQ, dryly: I’m sure you’ll tell me.

a-Yuan flops face down on the floor and then just lays there

----------------------------

a-Yuan: Where’s Qing-jie, Xian-ge?

WWX: She’s at work, radish.

a-Yuan: Why?

WWX: Because she needs to make money.

a-Yuan: Why?

WWX: ... Capitalism.

a-Yuan, suddenly furious: CAPITALISM?!

---------------------

a-Yuan: Rich-gege, the sun is not up. I’m sleeping.

LWJ: I know, baobei. That’s because it’s raining. You need to wake up now.

a-Yuan, very tired: But the suuuuuuuuun.

-------------------

WWX walks into the kitchen to find a-Yuan and Wen Ning hard at work

WWX: Oh? Whatcha making?

WN: Popo gave me her recipe for--

a-Yuan, delighted: A MESS!

----------------

a-Yuan: I’m telling on you!

WWX: Oh yeah? To who?

a-Yuan pauses to think for a moment, then puts his head down and begins to pray.

[stargirlygirl]

upgrade epilogue

pro hero! midoriya izuku x fem!reader⋆｡°✩ — fluff, 1.2k words, hope you like the ring

pt.1, pt.2, pt.3

You and Izuku were sitting on the couch in your cosy apartment. It’s been almost nine months since the quirk breeding rescue incident, and Izuku’s recovery has been swift. He’s taking time off from being a pro hero whilst adjusting to his cybernetic arm. That was part of it. Another part was that he wanted to spend some time training One For All. And the final part was that he wanted to spend some quality time with you. Which was hard because you were still working full-time as a biomed engineer.

His cybernetic arm was currently resting on your lap. The compartment beneath his inner wrist was popped open, and you were adjusting the screws with a screw driver, magnifying goggles on giving you big, adorable [e/c] eyes. He could feel his heart racing from how cute and talented his girlfriend was. He watched quietly, other hand resting on your knees that were curled up beneath you. He caressed the soft flesh with the rough pad of his thumb.

You hummed the beat of that song that had been stuck in your head for days as you worked away. Bobbing your head unconsciously and sucking in your cheeks (making ozempy face) when the screw wouldn’t screw or nut refused to nut (you are most welcome for that btw). You were so focused that you didn’t notice Izuku beginning to blush.

The truth is, he’s been waiting for this moment for months. Not this specific moment. I mean, you’ve done maintenance checks on his arm many times since it was attached. No. The moment I’m talking about is the moment he intended to propose you. Which was this moment, right now.

He just couldn’t wait any longer. Man had to wife you up this instant.

He took his right hand off of your knee, rubbing the back of his neck with it as he sighed quietly. You were furrowing your brows, completely oblivious, at a particularly difficult screw to unscrew. Izuku was tempted to smooth the lines with his thumb, but stopped short, hand ghosting your brows. What was he doing? Overthinking every little thing?

He cleared his throat reflexively. The silence draws on. Comfortable for one person and rather tense for the other. Once you’re finished screwing the compartment back, his cybernetic arm roaring and ready to go, you sit back and sigh happily. You use one hand to drag the heavy goggles off of your face, which unfortunately (and expectantly) leaves your [h/c] locks sticking up in a few places. Izuku laughs nervously, running his fingers through your hair much to your delight. You smile up at him lazily. Once he stops, you get up off of the sofa, grabbing your tools from the cushions and low coffee table.

His eyes dip to your cleavage mindlessly as you lean over to grab one of the smaller screw drivers that’s gotten squished into the cushion creases next to his thigh. He looks up and away, blushing, once realising what he’s done (which you have absolutely no idea of or problem with). He clears his throat again, hand scratching an existent-non-existent itch on his cybernetic arm.

Once you leave the lounge room to put your tools away in your bag, Izuku lets out a frustrated sigh he’s been holding in. He stands up, shaking his hands nervously and watching your figure with anxiety as you re-enter the room. You’re still oblivious to his nerves, too caught up in thinking about what you were going to make for dinner that night. You two had ran out of white radish, a staple in your household, so you were thinking of what other veg you were going to have. Probably steamed broccoli or—

“Honey.” You look at Izuku, like, really look at him, and notice how on edge he seems. Shifting from one foot to the other, left hand on the back of his neck, looking at you then away from you and then back at you.

You step towards him, taking his right hand in yours, interlacing your hands so your palms press together. “What’s up? You seem tense.” Your soft lips stretch into an even softer smile as you try to ease his nerves. He just shakes his head, looking down momentarily before meeting your gaze once more.

What he does next leaves your eyes popping out of your skull and mouth half open in shock. He gets down on one knee and cups both of your hands with his much larger ones. You just stare at him, blinking slowly, trying to process what’s going on — if this is going on — when he starts, “Honey, I love you. I love you more than you’ll ever know. You’ve been there for me during the hardest times. You’ve supported me and given me hope even when I felt hopeless.”

He takes a deep breath in, resolve clear in his eyes. He takes out a navy velvet ring box from the pocket of his sweatpants. You watch intently as he opens it, placing the box in your hand. Oh my gosh, is he about to-to…?

“[Y/n]-chan, I love you and I want to be your husband. Will you…” He licks his lips, feeling their sudden dryness. Your eyes follow the movement. He lets out another breath, “Will you marry me?”

You don’t say anything for a few seconds as you try to process if this is actually real and not a dream. “M-marry you?” You stutter. You see his resolve shatter a little as he nods, biting his lip. You breathe out, a smile forming on your face. “Of course, I’ll marry you Izu-chan!”

Grinning wide like you are, he pulls the engagement ring from the box and slips it onto your ring finger. It fits perfectly. You admire the ring. It’s stunning! Dainty silver band with a shining rectangle cut emerald. You’re actually obsessed with his choice as it really suits you and you love how the emerald is green like his features.

He wraps your smaller frame in a tight embrace. You start crying from the sheer joy of this moment. You’re so happy right now. Nothing can describe how good this feels. He rubs your back in circles, gently soothing you.

You two stay like that, whispering “I love you’s” to each other as you both process this emotional high. After a few minutes, you start giggling and pull back, cupping his cheeks with your hands. You take the side of your lower lip in-between your teeth, still grinning. It releases, the flesh bouncing back perfectly supple. “I love you so much, Izu-chan.” You pull his face closer to yours, bringing your forehead to his. He hums, “I love you, honey. Forever.”

You don’t think you can handle anymore of the teeth-rotting sweet things he’ll say to you for the rest of the night, so you press your lips to his. He eagerly responds, head angling with yours and hands moving so his right grips your upper back and left your waist. You smile into this kiss, unable to stop, knowing that you’ll be Mrs Midoriya soon. And that your pookie bear will be your pookie and only your pookie for as long as possible.