#blurred lines series

[whiskeynwriting]

Pedro Pascal Characters

Part One | Part Two

The Band Ghost Characters

Call of Duty

Star Wars

Marvel

The Boys

Other Characters

Series Masterlists

Themed Pieces

Kinktober, Daddycember, follower celebrations, reader-specific writing, boyfriend camera roles, character zodiac signs, Mando’a translations.

[fabricated-misslieness]

𝕭𝖑𝖚𝖗𝖗𝖊𝖉 𝕷𝖎𝖓𝖊𝖘 Chapter 20: a Hero Never Rests, and Neither Does a Villain

Hero Kaeya x Villain male reader

Summary: Every story comes to an end, no matter how sad or happy.

Word Count: 3,629

Mayb’s notes: blurred lines is supposed to not make sense sometimes btw

The King holds another ball under your name. It is a celebration for the cure, your dangerous journey (that which could've ended in sacrifice), and life. Specifically, the life of a party. He loved a good party. He simply needed a reason to hold one. You could sense that you would become a reason more than this one time.

While the first celebration was more of a formal dinner than a ball, as he catered to your needs and kept you "entertained", this one was a real ball; one that he loved to engage in.

So he did. And he beckoned you to do so as well.

Who were you to refuse, if it was just an excuse to dance with Kaeya again?

Yours was an old love, renewed again. Any excuse was a valid one when it came to him. Kaeya could say the same thing.

He stares into your eyes, through the windows into a lovesick soul that mirrors his. The action is rather intimate for such a precarious dance, one prone to leading to several bruises.

Try as you might to dance with elegant charm, your feet did not agree with your intentions.

With each stumble, each fall onto the hard floor, he'd only laugh, and so would you. Kaeya had come to love you, come to look past your flaws and your two left feet.

On your end, there was nothing to look past.

<✦>

After a night of fun, work always followed.

Kaeya hooked a finger under your jaw. His remaining fingers pressed against your lips. You pushed an eager kiss into his skin.

"Are you sure you don't want to join the Knights again?" He tilts your head up, clearly pleased with how you let him do so so easily. "We could sure use you."

"The scorn they hold may be hidden, but still clear as day."

He watches intently with his good eye as you drag a finger down his other arm and hook it around its wrist. His fingers follow his own hand as you bring it up to your lips and press a kiss to it too.

"Perhaps, just like Eula, you and I can make that change."

"There are a lot of things even you can't change, my love."

<✦⋆✦>

Without his touch, his guidance or his presence, there were many things you forgot. The palace, for one, seemed like nothing you or anyone deserved. Some days you roamed its halls, unaware of their luxury or their tiles so clean you could use them as a mirror. There was hardly anything for you to do. So you roamed aimlessly.

Some days you thought yourself to be in a forest, though your mind could never recreate one so perfectly. You were curious as to why this forest lacked life. It was absent of birdsong and leaf dance, or simple ant trails along the dirt. Curiosity sparked a search, as it always seemed to.

Footsteps, you hear. They're sharp, much too sharp for the soft, grassy floor and or paths laid into dirt.

Their source comes closer faster than you can react.

A man around the corner approaches. He wears a full set of armor. A knight turned bounty hunter? Or perhaps a knight sent after you for someone you killed in his Kingdom. You couldn't keep count of your victims anymore.

You raise a hand, incantation on your tongue.

"Woah, hey!"

Steel turns to velvet and armor to robes; mud and bark to tile and marble. The man before you is no knight. He thinks himself to be hundreds of thousands more than a little knight. He's the King himself, and you roam his palace. How you managed to get yourself in such a spot of trouble was a question to be answered later. For now, killing a King wasn't beneath you.

"Something get on your nerves today, big guy?" The King asks. "Your hero time finished, now?"

No King could speak so informally like that. Not only that, but he also seemed to know you. What King knew you? None other than Hanz. He was scared, of course, but he'd learnt well to hide it. You shift your stance back to normal and he breaths again.

You wonder how much longer Hanz could keep you his dog. Tamed, and living off of his merits.

<✦⋆✦⋆✦>

You didn't know what to call it. Hallucination was a good word, but you couldn't accept it. You were healthy, you ate well, you rested well, now more than ever. So why were you so delusional? It had no reasons.

Either way, if you were dreaming of the forest, a trip into the wilds would probably be a good remedy. In fact, it proved a better breather than the simplicity of a cure such as Kaeya's presence.

While he was away, his righteous heart leading him into his knightly duties, you mounted a horse and began a descent into the woods.

The wind felt like Gaia's call, a welcome back. It carried with it the melodious chirping of birds and the rush of a water's fall you'd missed so dearly. Her wind flowed past your face, brushing your cheeks with loving touch and pushing your hair in an unorganized way.

You had missed this, missed her embrace. How could you allow yourself abandon her for more than a moment? The effects separation had on you were already so daunting.

Breaking through the sounds she carried to you and the peace of her being were those of the animals around you. From a distance came steps to your experienced ear: animals, a deer probably, from afar.

You could imagine it, lifting its feet off the sticky mud of the floor. The mud on its hooves would wash off as it stepped on the river bed, and then the deer would drink. It was lonely, though. No mate, no family. Much like you, once. But were you lonely? Hadn't you thrived off of solitude?

The deer was a reminder that animals could live and flourish alone. Humans could do the same. You had once done the same.

It was tempting to leave Mondstadt. The idea of never coming back wasn't far from your reach. Much as you'd slipped from the palace grounds unnoticed, you could disappear just the same.

It was a cruel departure, though. You were ill-prepared for journey. And, even if you tried not to think about it as hard as you could, how could you leave without a goodbye?

<✦⋆✦⋆✦⋆✦>

It was always wrong time with him. But, unequivocally, he was the right person; which is what makes saying goodbye so difficult.

Kaeya is the man you love with all your heart. In your eyes, he possesses all the beauty in the world. His smile lights up your view and his laugh raises your spirits. The more you sung his praises, the more you loved him.

But the things he wanted, the goal he'd set for the rest of his life, they didn't line up with yours. He wanted to stay in Mondstadt, protect it from all evil, die within its walls. The City of Freedom had grown to be his home. It couldn't have been farther from the truth, eight years ago. After his fight with his brother, his departure from the Winery for forever, the people gossiped. They named him foreign. But he'd gained their trust again, and through his years of duty, he'd come to love the city again.

So, if you were to think of him, Mondstadt, and home, you were simply missing a sense of patience.

Mondstadt's freedom, however, was more of a prison to you. After spending such clear moments of your life travelling the world, freedom came to you in Gaia's hold. Mondstadt's cold stone walls were so far from what she gave you, what she could give you. You wanted her to hold you forever.

Out there, though, you were still wanted. Your crimes were only pardoned in Mondstadt. It was a hard point to push past, but it was fragile. You knew it would one day become so weak that the sight of your true home would break it.

You loved Kaeya more than most things. But, harsh as the thought may be, you loved some things more.

Perhaps you would never get your happy ending.

<✦⋆✦⋆✦⋆✦⋆✦>

Agreeance came after all you needed to do within the day was done. It was made over a meeting table of dark, stable wood. It was made with a calm demeanor and a mindset screwed on that everything one said was possible.

Agreeance came from mutual benefit.

But, right now, the day continued.

"I... don't want to stay in Mondstadt."

There wasn't anything to hold you back. Not an arm's length between you to give either of you time to process a set of words.

And here, it was emotional.

Though you could only be certain of his curiosity as he speaks a "Why?", you're sure he's entirely adverse to the idea.

How could you put this lightly? "The city is not my preferred environment, so to speak."

"So to speak." He deadpans. "There's something more, I know it." He had always been good at reading you. "So tell me."

"It's about Mondstadt." You begin hesitantly, "The city is your home, I don't want to speak ill of it."

""Your home?" Is that how you think of it?" In asking for his permission to speak truly, you had already given away your thoughts. "Is Mondstadt no longer your home?"

"I–" There was no other way to say it. You knew that immediately. Searching for a way was unnecessary. "Kaeya, it hasn't been my home for eight years. Nieblina was hardly a substitute, even."

"So what is home, then?" Though he poses a question, he doesn't let you answer. "Is it the wilds? A secret home in Fontaine? (y/n), what could your home be? The–"

"You are." You interrupt him. The words render him speechless. "That's why I ask."

There's always one thing people can say–well, two–when they are speechless, and that is a word even crueler when its precedent isn't even considered. "No."

<✦⋆✦⋆✦⋆✦⋆✦⋆✦>

The second ball this month held under your name is more bitter than the last.

The King danced, mingled with his high-standing nobles in homewrecking dances. He beckoned for you to join the dancefloor.

Who were you to refuse, if it was just an excuse to dance with him again?

Though it was old, though you fought, though you found something to look past, yours was a love renewed with a fierce fire. This excuse was as valid as any to bring him into your embrace.

He stares into your eyes, through the misty windows into a restless soul. The action is rather intimate for such a bruising dance. His hold on your shoulder was gentle, and yours on his waist just the same, but your tendency of tripping over the smallest of things during the most delicate of moments kept the injuries coming.

Try as you might to dance with a purposeful charm, your feet did not agree with your need to keep the night serene.

With each stumble that led onto the cold, hard floor, he'd only laugh, and so would you. Kaeya had come to love you, and tonight he would look past the day before, just as you would.

Ignorance could only last for so long. Love could only hide so much.

<✦⋆✦⋆✦⋆✦⋆✦⋆✦⋆✦>

You were the love of his life. He could do anything for you. There was one thing he'd shout into the world, even if all may hear, and that is that he would do anything for you.

But if Kaeya was anything, it wasn't truthful; and some things in life, he loved more. He didn't dare acknowledge it.

And if this kept on, tender mornings of hesitant departure would eventually lead to wordless goodbyes, affection shared would turn to nothing. You were absent from his side, today. You were already well on your way to undiscussed silence.

He sought you out, then, in hopes of mending things.

When he finds you, you've pressed yourself into the corner of a window seat, staring sidewards into the horizon. The sun has long made way for the night and sequentially, abandoned the skyline, but you still kept your eyes to the horizon. Now, the moon rose high above the other side of the palace, accompanied by thousands of stars you pay no mind to.

It seems you notice him before he can announce his presence. "When Mondstadt wanted me to be their villain, I did as they wished. Now that they want me to be their hero… I can’t stand it."

Kaeya takes a seat beside you. "You are a hero, you know. We put an end to a plague together." He cups your cheek with a comforting hand and brings your eyes to stare into his.

"A hero's not what I want to be." You draw back. Kaeya thinks it looks like you're shrinking in on yourself.

"What you want doesn't shape who you are." He says, a desperate attempt at matching your pace of speech. His words are wise regardless, but your stance remains unchanged.

"My past shapes who I am." You move away from him, pushing his hand away from you for what is probably the first time in your life. "I've done so many terrible things—a retribution such as this hardly helps it."

"You've killed many." He moves to reach out, then realizes it's probably best not to. You can see it in his lips pressed together, regardless of the distance, that the truth is hard to swallow. "But the cure will save more."

"What I have done will never outweigh what will happen." You'd long since known it, but saying it out loud was not pleasing. "None of the countless people whose lives I've taken will care for what I've done. If I were one of them, given the chance to be reborn as a vengeful spirit that only lives to kill me... I'd probably take it."

"You're too harsh on yourself–"

"You're not harsh enough."

Kaeya thinks, as you leave, that maybe you two weren't meant to be happy after all.

<✦⋆✦⋆✦⋆✦⋆✦⋆✦⋆✦⋆✦>

Such depressing thoughts can only last for so long. He said it himself, that he would do anything for you, and though where some things he wouldn't, those weren't in question at the moment.

He already hated how you slept so far from him on the other side of the bed. He hated how the "I love you"s returned didn't feel so genuine and energetic as they'd once been. He hated how you looked sickly pale. Most of all, he loved making you happy, and he was failing at that recently.

He knows, the night you don't come to bed, that he has to act. So he sets up a little plan.

The next time he sees you is at that window seat. It had come to be your favorite. The day was over and stars had allowed themselves to be seen in the sky. Each star formed a constellation—they were simply unnamed. He knew that that was happening between you two. He couldn't name it, what was going on in your relationship right now. He didn't need to know, not yet. He just had to mend it.

He sits down next to you. At the very least, you don't move to stand.

"I'm sorry." He starts. He had it all planned out, a little picnic, a little speech, but most things didn't usually go as planned when they came to you.

"For?" You say without even sparing him a glance.

For? "Making you mad." He says, because it's the only thing he can think of.

"I'm not–well, maybe," You groan. Your gaze leaves the horizon, just for a moment. "I'm not mad. Not at you."

"Then, why–?"

"I'm trying to come to terms with it, I guess." You shake your head, probably at yourself. "That I have to stay here? Whatever's outside, any other nation, is dangerous. It makes sense."

"Or," Kaeya leaves the basket aside to scoot closer to you. "you can handle yourself, and..."

"And?" He can't see, but you finally look over at him.

He'd thought it out, but now that he was saying it, he was having a bit of a hard time. "You can leave Mondstadt."

"I–really?" You had a million questions, each with a million answers he could give, but you were too busy with ecstasy.

"Yes," He snickers, "really."

You practically throw yourself at him. He relishes in the feeling of your lips, even if rough, against his own. His fingers trace the side of your torso thoughtlessly, as returning to your touch left him thoughtless. He missed you so dearly.

"Are you coming with?" That was hardly a question.

"Of course." He grins, "Who would I be if I wasn't?"

And he wouldn't have to miss you ever again.

<✦⋆✦⋆✦⋆✦⋆✦⋆✦⋆✦⋆✦⋆✦>

There were some things you loved more than each other, some things that affected you even more than your love. Mondstadt was the City that reigned over Kaeya's heart and years of travel had given you a sense of freedom unachievable by settling down. Who was Kaeya to deny you your freedom? And who were you, to drag him through the ends of Teyvat?

In the weeks prior to your set departure, the both of you had come to learn that if you loved someone, you would let them go.

An earlier form of that, from when you were younger, was when you tricked him into thinking you a villain (whilst you weren't one yet). It was, to you, the only way to keep him safe.

Though Kaeya had promised he would leave with you, you couldn't separate him from the place he loved, the same way he couldn't either.

But Kaeya couldn't help but watch with abstained want, watch as you strapped up Raph (it was the least you could do to leave Nyx behind) with luggage and rations. The bare minimum, they were, and though he did not doubt you could live off of nature's goodwill, it still felt wrong.

He stayed silent, anyway, giving way to the sound of straps and leather and grains and spell materials.

Then, when all's done, you mount up. A feeling begins to rise in his chest, it bubbles up like a volcano ready to burst, like it'll boil up and spill over. "You comin'?"

"What?" He blurts, unprepared.

"You're not walking alongside me." Even then, he doesn't understand. The feelings collect and boggle his mind. "Take Nyx and come along. We've got a ways to go before the City Gates."

"Right."

The ride is silent because all's been said and discussed. The weeks leading up to today gave you enough time to speak, and speak you did. You thought you knew everything about him, but apparently not.

You take the opportunity to admire Mondstadt one last time. It wasn't the city of your dreams, and the people didn't understand you, but Mondstadt had its beauty. You wouldn't miss it though.

Kaeya follows suit in your admiration, but he doesn't find much to look at. These are the streets he will look at today and tomorrow and the years following.

The further you go, the less there is to look at. There is only one thing to see, and that is the gates up ahead. Your excitement was brimming, he could see it.

This was the very gate he'd first brought you to Mondstadt in, months ago. Up ahead, not so far away, was the tavern he met you in. To think none of it would've happened if he hadn't sought you out.

The both of you dismount halfway between the City and the wilds.

"I'll see you again, right?" Kaeya asks, hopefully. He knew the answer, of course, he just wanted to make sure. He wanted to hear it from your lips.

"Yes." You take one of his hands in yours reassuringly. "As many times as can be afforded," His lips open, move to voice his concerns, but you already know what he's going to ask. "which, I can assure you, is more than six times a year."

Six wasn't a lot, but a number was comforting. "Okay." He says.

"Okay." You say with a grin. You bring his hand to your lips and place upon its knuckles a kiss before mounting Raph again. Kaeya's gaze follows your every movement.

Was that all?

"Oh, one last thing." You lean over the side of your horse, dragging a hand along the side of his face. It traces an outline down his cheek, soothing in its touch, before finding its destination on his jaw. You lift his head up even higher and kiss him.

A kiss wasn't enough, even if it was just the thing he was waiting for. He pushes roughly against you, wanting never to let go. His hands move to hold your neck thoughtlessly so as to keep you from leaving.

A kiss wasn't enough, though it would have to do.

You pull away, much to his dismay, but you don't let the moment diminish. "I love you." You say, filling in his desire for more.

Kaeya can't help but to smile, even as sadness engulfs him full. "I love you too."

When you part from him completely, back upright on your horse and ready to leave, he doesn't feel so bad anymore. When you leave, galloping away on your horse towards an undetermined future, his smile turns to sorrow.

He continues to watch, watch as your figure turns smaller and smaller until it disappears into the horizon.

"To the ends of Teyvat."

[z0mbiew00d]

Southlands polycule but noones really sure who’s in the polycule and who isn’t

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Blurred Lines 2

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon/dubcon, power imbalance, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: Your relationship with your boss takes an unpredictable turn.

Characters: Nick Fowler

Note: some more Nicky for the girlies.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

Back to usual. 

You say goodbye to Joey with an especially clingy hug. She’ll be gone back to campus by the time you get home. Her short visits always leave you a bit sad.

You arrive at Nick’s place and let yourself in. The remnants of the prior day’s get together are still littered over the dining room table and throughout the front room. There’s more in the kitchen.

You gather the empty glasses and a few bottles with varying amounts of liquid still inside. You scrape plates into the pin and sweep napkins in after them. You fill the sink with warm soapy water to wash it all when you hear the soft but clumsy pad of feet on the stairs. They’re too light to be Nick.

You have the coffee brewing in anticipation of your boss’ hangover. The aroma wafts into the air as the machine clicks. A figure appears in the doorway and you turn to greet the woman in her sleek but wrinkled dress. This isn’t unexpected either.

“Good morning,” you greet her stunned eyes as she blanches.

“Um, I’m sorry, I was only–”

“Coffee?” You offer her as you open the cupboard, “look like you need it.”

“N-no, I… should go. Is there a Starbucks around here?” She croaks.

“No need, I can do lattes,” you offer, “he’s got this ridiculously expensive machine.”

“Er,” she looks down at the heels dangling from her hand then back to you, “sorry, are you… do you live…”

“I work for Mr. Fowler. Just the maid,” you assure her. Her assumption fills your chest with an unspent laugh. You’re far too old for Nick. Besides, the concept is ridiculous.

“Oh…” her single syllable dangles.

You pour her a cup and turn to offer it to her. Her mouth slants in a guilty smile. She shambles forward and accepts the mug.

“You take sugar, cream? Maybe some Advil?” You suggest.

“Oat milk? And yes please, my head is pounding.”

“Right, he has almond milk,” you open another cupboard and pluck out the ibuprofen, “or whole milk.”

“Almond is fine,” she accepts as you rattle the bottle.

“One or two, hon,” you ask as you approach her again.

“Two, please,” she inhales the scent of the coffee and sighs, rubbing her eye socket before extending her hand to take the tablet, “the whole bottle if I could.”

“Ugh, yeah, I don’t miss those days,” you hum and cap the bottle.

You put it away and go into the large fridge, taking out the carton of almond milk for the woman. You take it to her as she approaches the island to clink down the coffee. You watch as she adds the milk and takes a slender spoon from you to stir it in. She takes her first sip and moans before tossing back the pills.

“Coffee good?” You prompt proudly.

“Oh, yeah,” she looks up at you, “yeah, it’s great.”

“Took me a while to master the beast,” you point to the machine. “I finally got my ristretto down, too.”

She gives a nervous laugh and gulps again, wiping her lips with the back of her hand, “you’re nice… really nice. Why?”

You blink at her question. It makes you wonder, was Nick not nice? That’s not really any of your concern.

“Why wouldn’t I be?” You shrug and turn to the full sink, “you’re a guest.” You plunge your hands in and scrub the porcelain, “plus, you kinda remind me of my daughter. I’d like someone to treat her nicely too.”

“Ah,” she accepts, “that’s really sweet.”

“It’s human, I hope,” you open up the dishwasher to slide in each plate.

“You really… didn’t have to make me coffee,” she murmurs.

You peek over at her as she stares into the depths. She seems sad but that might just be the hangover. You continue your work as you reply.

“It was already on. If you’re hungry–”

“Please, no, that’s okay,” she declines with a wave, “I think… I think I’ll just finish this and get an uber. Maybe go call my mom.”

“Well, you let me know if you need anything before you go,” you chime as you hook glasses into the top rack of the dishwasher.

You finish the dishes and grab a damp cloth to go wipe the table down. You stop by a few other surfaces to clear away rings from the finish and return to the kitchen. As you enter from the dining room, Nick appears in the other.

The woman faces him as she grabs her shoes, “hi.”

He growls and lumbers over to the coffee machine. He sees the mug waiting for him and peers into its empty body. You clutch the cloth in your hand as you watch his naked back tense. He wears nothing more than a pair of briefs. At most, you’ve seen him shirtless when he needs some stitches.

“More coffee?” You offer the woman.

“No, I should go,” she peeks at him nervously.

“Alright, well, you take care,” you bid her and take her cup.

“Thanks,” she says and skulks to the door, “bye, Nick.”

“Mmm,” he flicks his fingers at her as he pours himself a cup.

You narrow your eyes at his shoulder blades. That wasn’t very polite. Well, it isn’t your job to be his mother, even if it feels like it sometimes.

You put the almond milk away as he turns to lean in the corner of the counter. He presses the porcelain to his forehead and groans. You shake out the cloth over the sink and rinse it out.

“You have a daughter,” he states plainly. A question but not really.

“I do,” you answer evenly.

“I didn’t know that,” he says.

You shrug, “guess it never came up.”

"You’ve worked for me for three years…” he mutters.

“You never asked,” you say lightly, “it’s fine.”

He lowers the cup and slurps loudly. He swishes the coffee around before he swallows thickly.

“Your husband okay with you working twelves?”

You chuckle, “sir, really, it’s fine.”

His curiosity is not usual. You stick to the expected, the manageable. You don’t stray outside the lines. You’re friendly but you’re not overfamiliar. He always seemed to prefer that. He enjoyed talking about himself far more.

“You were busy yesterday,” he shifts his weight to one foot, his muscled chest rippling.

“I suppose as busy as you,” you roll in the racks of the dishwasher and add soap before closing it up.

“I… interrupted your plans?”

“Sir, it’s fine, I had a good day off and now I’m back,” you insist, “are there any other messes I need to worry about?”

He tilts his head and exhales deeply. His cheek dimples as he considers you. The cut on his head is exposed but not as bad as it was, though the bruise under his eyes has only gotten darker.

He scoffs as a smirk slants his lips, “sure. You could change my bed sheets.”

“Sure,” you accept breezily, repressing the glimmer of concern at the base of your skull. 

Something about his response seems trite, as if he means to insult you. You’re an adult, you’re less than shocked at his after hours play. By now, you’re quite used to it. He’s in his prime, he’s well off, and he’s handsome by anyone’s measure.

“You could try some witch hazel,” you touch your cheek then point at his, “for the bruising.”

“I can handle it,” he retorts and pushes himself away from the counter, “enough chattering. Get to work.”

🥃

You knock on the office door and wait for an answer. The little device you keep clipped to your belt is still buzzing with Nick’s demand. He calls to you from within and you enter.

“Sir?” You greet him.

“What took you so long?” He growls.

He’s in a foul mood. He has been all day. He can be gruff, you’re used to that, but today, he just seems prickly. His romp must not have been much fun. Come to think of it, his partner had been all too eager to flee.

You shake away the intrusive thoughts and clear your throat, “I was in the laundry room. Sorry.”

“My head is pounding,” he rubs his temples.

“Right, sir, I’ll bring you Advil and some water–”

“Don’t treat me like a child,” he snarls.

“Yes, sir.”

“I’m sure I’m a lot older than your daughter, so cut it out.”

“I wasn’t– sir, I’m sorry.”

“Go, get the pills,” he shoos you, “and call Rhonda.”

You nod and leave him. Wow. You don’t think he’s ever spoken to you like that. The mention of Joey also puts you off. Why is he so concerned? Most people could look at you and assume you have a kid or too. At your age, with your hips…

You go downstairs to retrieve the Advil and a tall glass of water. You climb back upstairs and follow the airy hall down to your office. As you enter, he sits with his head in his hands, his elbows on the desk. You don’t say a word as you set down the glass and pills.

He doesn’t move. You back away slowly and pull out your cell phone. You’ll call the masseuse, she should be able to work out the tension.

As you get to the door, he growls and his chair squeaks.

“You said something, about witch hazel,” he snarls.

“Uh, yes,” you face him, “it’ll take down the bruising.”

He narrows his eyes, the gesture tweaking his swollen cheek. Even battered, he isn’t unattractive. And the woman in his kitchen was just as gorgeous. So you find it hard to fathom why he’s in such a mood.

“Would you like me to get it for you, sir?” You ask, trying not to sound too pandering.

“Sure, whatever.”

You sweep away and go down the hall to the cabinet. You keep everything stocked well. Part of your job is inventory. You’ll have to go through the liquor bottles later and see what needs replenishing too.

You return to him with the witch hazel and a bag of cotton balls. You place them on his desk as he leans his head against the chairback, his eyes closed. You step back on your heel and his eyes pop open.

“Would you mind?” He motions to his face.

“Sure,” you take the cotton balls and pull one out.

You uncap the dark bottle and dampen the cotton with the liquid. His eyes close again as you sidle closer and you dab gently along his cheek. He flinches, just once, then stills. It must be cold. 

His eyes flick open again and startle you as you retract your touch. Awkwardly, you move away and gather up the bottle and bag of cotton balls. He’s quiet as he leans forward to grab the bottle of pills.

“I should’ve guessed,” he says as he shakes two tablets out, “that’s what I do. I read people. You’re a mother, for sure. She’s older, isn’t she? College? You had her young–”

“Sir,” you sniff, uncomfortable.

“Just the one. And you didn’t answer me when I talked about your husband so he must be out of the picture. Divorced. About the time you came around here, huh? You need the job after the messy break up,” he suggests as he wags his finger with a knowing grin, “probably another woman, huh?”

You blink. You’ll let him think what he wants. His opinion of your marriage isn’t important. It won’t do to correct him anyway. He doesn’t really seem to care, he just wants to wound. You just can’t figure out what you’ve done to deserve it.

[artbyblastweave]

Many years ago J. Michael Straczynski wrote a miniseries for Marvel's MAX imprint called Supreme Power, which was itself a spin on the classic Marvel Faux Justice League The Squadron Supreme. And in this miniseries you've got a Flash Expy, The Blur, who in a very compelling way is like the inverse of A-train from The Boys. They're both black speedsters from impoverished backgrounds who use their powers to become walking billboards instead of going directly into conventional superheroism- at least in part because there isn't actually a lot of call for conventional superheroism. They even share a color scheme.

But unlike A-Train, whose moral core is thoroughly corroded by celebrity, Blur's apparent crass commercialism ends up being thematically linked to the fact that he's easily the most moral and considerate of the entire first wave of superheroes, because he's literally the only one of these people who's ever had to work any kind of day job, and thus the only one who's really in any way beholden to the logic of human society and its associated common courtesy.

[markofcastiel]

I was sick for 3 weeks in December so I call this my fever dream series

[athousandbyeol]

>> a boss and a babe episode 7 | stills

[artekai]

OC-tober (late) Day 1: Fave OC

Here's some old art of my favorite little guy I never posted. You can really date it by my old url, his hairstyle, the artstyle, and the fact that its caption was originally supposed to be "RIP the internet, Artekai would've loved you 💔"

Alt w/o the black and white filter under the cut

[earmo-imni]

What the absolute shit even is Graduation Day. It felt like a Cherik-shipping fever dream.

[whiskeynwriting]

What songs inspired your fics/series?

1. My Best Friend’s Dad Series

Main line of inspo...

"Don't blame me, love made me crazy. If it doesn't you ain't doin' it right. Lord save me, my drug is my baby, I'll be usin' for the rest of my life."

2. Blurred Lines Series

Soooo many lines in this song, specifically...

"Are you gonna kiss me? 'Cause you're takin' me home. It's four in the morning, are we doin' this wrong?"

"Let's fuck up the friendship, come get in my head. Baby, cut the tension. I'm hung by a thread."

3. Insatiable Series

A couple in here, too...

"Why don't you put me up in your chateau? Then you can show me off to all these hoes, And charge admission."

"I keep him inspired, put my pussy in a frame. Tell me I'm a perfect beauty, Dit moi en français."

No pressure tags 🥰 @kteague @loversandantiheroes @moralesispunk @movievillainess721 @nicolethered @radiowallet @toomanystoriessolittletime

[fabricated-misslieness]

𝕭𝖑𝖚𝖗𝖗𝖊𝖉 𝕷𝖎𝖓𝖊𝖘 Chapter 19: Celebration of the Blinded

Hero Kaeya x Villain male reader

Summary: Every hero's journey had to have a happy end.

Word Count: 3,874

Warnings: swearing, light-hearted insults, light mention of murder dw about it

Mayb’s notes: everything said here is on purpose (probably, if i didn't make mistakes)

The line between heroes and villains is more blurred than one would think.

Some might say the difference is in intent. But when has intent ever helped to solve the consequences? You had learnt Necromancy and it'd gotten you exiled. The subsequent bounty placed on your head caused the many lives you'd taken afterwards. While there were exceptions, you always had the intent of self-defense. Still, you were deemed a villain.

Maybe it was exactly who was killed. But then the amount of lives squashed under one's heel was negated. If a hero severed a million threads of fate, a million men who were all inherently bad, how could that not be regarded as bad? That hero would've taken and taken and taken forever—until their own death came to be.

That wasn't a philosophy that should be followed, right?

The halls of this castle were endless and empty–Was that a constant trait for every one of these needlessly luxurious palaces?–something you should get used to now, or soon. At the very least, during sunset, hallways facing the courtyard offered a wonderful view.

Kaeya and you had meandered the hallways many a time, discovering them empty and monotonous, never changing, always.

For now they only seemed like an escape; away from the viciously loyal Royal Guard and the countless meetings with the King. He had shown his true colors since you met him, with his countless manipulative strategies you'd seen through. You should be grateful, you owe me one for leaving you exiled, I tried my best for the citizens—right now, he was trying to get on your good side by showering you with endless gifts.

But what use of them did you have now?

The path ahead of you was set. The King would take care of your needs for the rest of your life. What was there to strive for now?

That question was left unanswered, but you now there was something to anticipate.

"Nervous?"

"Quite the understatement, that."

Kaeya sits next to you on the cold, tile window seat. He scoots close and takes one of your hands. For the moment, he doesn't beg for your eyes. The sun sets far in the horizon, the same as the day before yet still a sight to behold. "So tell me what bothers you." He says.

"Well," Where to start? "the biggest news the citizens of Mondstadt had heard of me, and probably the last thing for most of them, is that I had done an act of treason and I had learned the most taboo of magicks."

"All of your acts will be cleared. I can see why they would be opposed. But the King has your back," He scoffs, "for once."

"Don't get me started on him." You roll your eyes, to which he snickers.

"I know the troubles with the King. On that, we share frustration." He ponders but for a moment, "When do you think he'll give up on us?"

"He wouldn't dare strip us of our titles. He knows I'm a threat, and now you've dug yourself a trench of caution he won't cross. So... we'll become one of the things he tolerates."

"Right. So, then, anything else?"

"Jean, Lisa, Amber—they don't know we're here."

"Back home." Home. "Nobody knows we're here. I'll bet Diluc will storm through the gates of the palace himself just to scold me. Maybe that's something I deserve."

You turn, catching him mid laugh. As you suspected, he was only looking at you and not the landscape. Oh, that love you shared would kill you one day.

"What about you?" You ask, bringing his hand up to kiss it.

His smile grows and he looks away bashfully. For all the flirting you'd done leading before that night, and the rambunctious love of your past, he seemed all too bashful when you showed him any kind of uncalled for loving. Not that you were any better.

"Oh, well," He sighs. It comes off dreamy and joyful. "I've prepared myself for it. Or at least, that's what I'd like. It still hasn't fully registered in my mind that this is how the rest of our lives will go."

"Awfully boring, don't you think?" You snicker, "If surviving and work are no longer worries, what have we to do?"

"That's right. With all twenty-four hours of my day readily available, what is there left to suffer through?" He snickers. "Though in all seriousness, I think I will return to my Captain work. It fills the day."

"You still have a sense of duty to Mondstadt?"

"Of course." He says, as though it is the clearest of answers. "Maybe I wasn't born here, maybe the people will never stop thinking about me as something higher than them after tomorrow, but it is still the place I call home."

Home. Would Mondstadt ever be home to you anymore?

"It is my greatest pleasure to announce to you all," The King's voice boomed. His hands rose wide as he regarded the crowd. Both his smile and medallions gleamed under the bright sun, blinding the crowd even more as they stared up. "that we, Mondstadt, have beaten the plague!"

The citizens of Mondstadt cheered. They didn't know of the cure, didn't know how it would be administered, didn't know if it would have a price. But beating something, especially the plague, was a good thing to be celebrated.

An assistant brings the vile to the King. It is clear white, not special at all. The King had his suspicions about it at first, there certainly wasn't a method of which to verify it safely, and had brought one of his greatest mages. They too, held their scorn for you and suspicion for the liquid, but they confirmed its validity.

He shows it off in his palm and the crowd ooh's and ah's. "Our very troubles will be over, my dear people. But I alone did not discover this."

Oh good, you were half sure he would skip over giving credit in the first place. He had certainly put himself into the equation without hesitation, anyway. He gestures towards the back of the stage, at the two of you. Hardly a second had passed before his little guards pushed you forward.

The crowd gasped and screeched terribly. You know they wish to throw tomatoes, jeer and heckle, but none are more scared of the King than the citizens themselves.

The King puts a hand on each of your shoulders. Its warmth is sickening.

"As an act of gratitude, compensation for their harsh journey, and a reward for bringing the reward to our Kingdom, I shall grant them an exalted knighthood. From this day onwards, they shall be regarded as Royal Guards."

With his hand on your shoulder, he brings you in front of him. He exchanges the cure for a sword, leaving you to figure out what you're doing.

It wasn't the first time you would gain a title, anyway.

But this wasn't the man who'd crowned you Knight, nor the man who granted you the title of Illusionary Knight. This wasn't the man who surely vouched for your life, nor the man who trained you from the ground up. Varka and the Royal Guards weren't one in the same, they were hardly allies. You could only imagine what he had to say.

You kneel down before him, an awful movement you wish you didn't have to do. The King smiles down at you. You, in turn, look down at the ground. His shoes are spotless.

"With the power vested in me, I hereby crown you a Royal Guard. May your days under servitude bring me success and may the light of your eye never dull."

The flat of the ceremonial blade is laid upon your head. Then, its steel weighs heavy as it taps each of your shoulder.

For a moment, you think he just might kill you.

Not only were you both crowned Royal Guards, which meant a life of luxury almost equal to that of a Prince (as the King had no children), you were also given a feast.

The nobles themselves were also given a party in the palace, but they were just nobles. While they partied the night away in the ballroom and while "regular peasants" snuck their way into the palace, the royals were enjoying a dinner.

It was the first time that the King dined with you.

He sat, naturally, at the end of the table. Kaeya was sat in front of you, the comfort of his hand far from yours. Filling the rest of the long table were the remainder of the Royal Guards.

You were both sore, blistered thumbs in a pair of perfectly uniform hands.

There were so many forks, spoons, and knives. Each Guard seemed to have gotten their lesson in royal cutlery, but the King himself hadn't. He didn't much care for fish knives and salad forks, a rather surprising and begrudging comfort because of your inexistent knowledge of royal dinner etiquette.

At the very least, the King knew to wipe his mouth. The Guards' conversations pause when he speaks up. "What do you think of the feast?" He asks, as though you haven't been having fancy food over the past few weeks because you hadn't dined with him.

"It's certainly... new." You say, forgetting to bluff to ease his feelings but still making sure not to say anything bad.

Kaeya, on the other hand, picks up your slack. "It's great. I've never had something like, gosh, the butter crabs? Oh and," He takes a sip of his drink and laughs, "A hundred year aged wine."

"Not even at Dawn Winery?" The King asks.

Kaeya winces for hardly a second before masking the unvoluntary expression with a gracious smile. "No, father would never have let me. Master Diluc, even more so."

"Well, we have to break out the specialty for celebration, don't we?" The King laughs. It's the sort of laugh that ends a conversation.

"Of course."

The food, as lavish as it was, lacked the taste of familiarity. It wasn't personal. It wasn't a meal made for a people you knew personally, it was one made for stuck up folk with special and expensive tastes. It didn't taste nearly as good when it wasn't a meal made at home.

You suppose, then, that this is something else you'll have to get used to.

You weren't prisoners. The King made that clear when he offered you a place in his "home".

Except, now that everything was said and done, where else could you possibly go? You were exiled, and now all of your crimes were pardoned, but the people still knew what you did. They feared you, that much was always going to be a fact, and going into the streets was merely an unnecessary testament.

You were hardly even approachable anymore. Being one of the King's filthy Royal Guards did not give you a favorable reputation, added on top of your haunting past.

But there were people that were willing to look past that.

"Lisa Lisa?" You call into the Knights of Favonius library. She was uncharacteristically missing from her chair at the entrance to the library.

"Down here!"

Jean would be mad at your for a reasonable amount of time, and it that anger would only decrease after you see her again. Amber, on the other hand, was a wild card. She was your little sister, and she loved you a lot. You could only imagine how she would react, and never was the thought the same in your mind.

Lisa understood you. She was once your best friend. She'd be mad, then she'd accept your apology, and then she'd tease you. Such were her predictable ways.

"Tell me, what do you need the Librarian's help for?" She asks without looking up from the bookshelf where she's putting books back in their place.

"You're actually doing work for once?"

At your voice, second only to Jean's in familiarity, her head snaps to you. "(y/n)? For Favonius, you could've sent me a letter in advance!" She clutches her chest, as though you've just given her a heart attack. "And, I'll have you know I do a lot of work around here!"

"Not when I knew you." You close some distance between you two, cautiously.

She doesn't seem to care. She closes more distance and takes your cheeks in her hand, turning your head this way and that to examine you. "Did anyone tell you you have dirt on your cheek?"

"No, it must be recent. Besides, no knight nor citizen will talk to me."

She huffs, "That's no way to treat a hero."

A hero? Is that what you were deemed to be now? "Lisa, I wouldn't–"

"Nonsense. You brought us a cure, didn't you?" She clicks her tongue, parting from you to give you an up and down look for even more injuries. "Tell me you didn't put yourself in unnecessary danger or get yourself fatally wounded."

"Well..." She scowls at you, so you continue before she can assume anything. "I wanted Kaeya to go home, he refused, we got ambushed by bandits because we were arguing, and he got captured. I escaped because they were afraid of my status as a big Villain. I had to go back though, couldn't leave him of course, and we fought our way out."

"Didn't I teach you a thing or two about the benefits of stealth?" She tuts.

"Yeah, I mean, maybe." She groans at that so you scramble for an excuse. "But it wasn't an option, I assure you!"

"That's what you always say." She sighs, then laughs. "I was just teasing you."

The way she greeted you, the way she treated you now, it wasn't anything at all as you'd expected. You had changed much over your eight years gone. Of course she had changed too.

"Lisa!" For the love of Favonius, Jean.

Lisa doesn't reply, either already knows Jean's anger or can deduce that you and her won't mix so soon after your new Knighthood, but that doesn't stop Jean from finding her.

When the Captain's eyes land on you, her eyebrows furrow deeply. "You." Is all she says.

"Me." You reply.

Jean looks like she's rearing back for many things. For one, a breath; two, an entire argument, all within the span of a couple of seconds. Before she can, however, you interrupt her.

"Jean. I know you have a lot of things to say–"

"A lot," Her voice is stern, intimidating, she won't be having any of your shit today or perhaps even ever. "is an understatement."

"And I know that! I know that. But, let's just, um," What could you say to avoid the wrath of Jean Gunnhildr? "discuss over a cup of tea?"

"A cup of tea." She enunciates slowly because she cannot believe you.

"Yes, and I know just the place." Lisa interrupts. She adds another person, one who is accepting of your presence (along with being someone Jean loves), in order to coerce her further. "My personal collection, and apologetically yours too, is not enough for this kind of baggage."

Lisa was always great at clearing or lightening the mood, but even she couldn't be a hard obstacle against Jean's ambitious path. For the moment, the Captain was preserving the–her Knighthood's integrity by appearing calm. She would not have an argument in such an open space like this, and even when you'd found yourself seated in a secluded corner at a tea shop or wherever Lisa was taking you, she would speak in hushed shouts.

Jean Gunnhildr was a disciplined woman. For many years, she was your big sister and your leader. She was responsible enough to be Acting Grandmaster for several years as Varka went on his expeditions. But today, today she would let all of her frustrations out.

Now was simply not the moment. Wrong place, wrong time. That would change soon.

"Excuse me?" The three of you come to a stop and turn your heads towards the person behind you. She greets you with a shyness unrivaled. "I..." She stares down at the ground, her hands clasped in front of her. "I just wanted to say thank you."

"What?" At the surprised blurt, she jumps in place and accidentally snaps her gaze right at yours.

"I wanted to say thank you!" She exclaims louder with a newfound courage. "For bringing a cure to Mondstadt. My father died to the plague a month ago. Now that I... now that you brought the cure, no one will ever suffer through what I have again!"

"I–" What was there to say? "It's no problem?"

"I wanted to say thank you as well!" Someone speaks up. You can hardly track their voice as even more and more people shout their gratitude.

"My son won't have to live in a world of plague anymore!"

"My brother, in the quarantine zone, he'll make it through!"

"You've saved us!"

"I've saved you?" You couldn't possibly fathom what they were saying. They were treating you like a hero, thanking you as if you had done something that deserved high praise. You–you weren't a hero. You were far from it.

These people, they were blind to your past, to everything you've ever done. They should boo and heckle, not do whatever this is!

A crowd forms around you, so big and intruding that Lisa and Jean are separated from you.

"Excuse me–" Pushing through the crowd, comes your savior. It's Jean. "Sir, please, let me through." The space she creates for herself is quickly filled by another person. "Everyone, please, go back to what you were doing."

As she reaches the center, she grabs hold of your hand. It's not a harsh hold, in fact, it's the opposite. It's gentle. "As a Captain of the Knights, I implore you all, please move on!"

You clear your throat with a gained courage from Jean's care for you, "I do thank you all for your gratitude. But please, as a Royal Guard, continue on."

The crowd finally obeys.

"You know, for a Royal Guard, that was good handling of a crowd." Jean remarks. Her hold on your arm remains. What once served as a way of not losing you now becomes a little gesture of affection between friends.

"Lady Gunnhildr, is that an insult I just heard? From you?"

"Trust me, you're going to hear plenty more of those soon."

While your reunion with Lisa had gone smoothly and Jean's rocky at best, you could only wonder what Amber's would be like. At most, it would be a landslide, but a landslide could still swallow you whole.

There were many ways it could go. She'd scream at you and be angry, she'd look at you with a face ridden with betrayal and leave, or she'd cry. Many scenarios ended with the words "We'll never be the same again." But, as with Lisa, it had been eight years since your friendship was at its peak. Surely she'd changed. Beside, the last time you spoke, you had promised that you would get to know each other again. It was only right.

And if she didn't want anything to do with you anymore you would have to deal with your consequences.

"Were chocolates not enough?"

"(y/n)..." Kaeya sighs.

"Or were they too much?"

"(y/n)." Lisa groans.

"What will she say? What will she do? Oh Gods, what will I do?"

"(y/n)." Jean speaks up. Her voice is stronger, more stern than the others. It catches your attention. "It'll be fine. You'll know what to do. And, by the way, I would've liked chocolates for our reunion."

"I hate to break Jean's teasing mood but," Kaeya leans against the window's frame, "Amber's coming."

You take a deep breath and ready yourself. Amber loved you. You loved her. You were siblings in spirit. If there was another world where the two of you existed, you would be siblings. What was that comparison?

The next deep breath you take is interrupted by Amber's entrance.

"(y/n)?" The first syllable of your name is spoken in shock. The next is almost choked, broken, falling. "You're here!"

You did not know what to do.

But you didn't have to. Amber runs over to you instead, wrapping her arms around your middle. In naught but a second, she's crying.

The last time you were hugging each other so tenderly, she was merely fourteen. And now she's twenty-two! You made a promise for her last you saw her. Because of it, she hoped for another chance to hug, love, and care for you, and you'd ripped it away when you left in your leadless search.

This scenario wasn't unexpected, but it was more than welcome. Of course she still loved you, and you her.

"I'm sorry."

She doesn't reply, she can't. She's got her face in your shirt, staining it with salty warm tears, and she's sobbing so much she can't possibly articulate words.

"I brought chocolates?"

"You stupid oaf."

Was the Queen a hero? And then, the King a villain?

You ponder this on a restless knight. The sheets of your bed were of silk. The pillow was even and large, comfortable, and Kaeya's chest even more comfortable. Still, none of these helped lull you to sleep.

Even the ceiling was decorated, framed in gold and painted with the winds of Lord Barbatos. Said winds howled outside your window.

How could the Queen had been a hero? She clearly held some sort of resentment for her King. When his plague rot the streets of her city, she treated her citizens. In her art, it was her who coerced her husband into creating their Kingdom from the ashes of an old one. She sheltered refugees and immigrants of other nations, though still allowed her husband's wars. Was she against them in the first place? That much, you didn't know. She was supportive enough so as to let her son march into battle and die.

The King, on the other hand, was very clearly a bad guy. You didn't know why he would start a plague. The man before you that night was filled with regrets, and he was begging for death. He learnt what it felt like to suffer his own plague for years on end, but it was only because of that, surely, that he wanted it to end. He had brought about many wars and gave many people to Lady Death.

So he was, obviously, a villain.

The Queen was the King's counterpart; the mercy to his ruthlessness and the care to his indifference. Naturally, when it came to aligning with Villains and Heroes, she was a hero. She had been nothing but sweet to you. Even so... there was something about her that was so, so wrong.

The Queen of Tears was the woman that handed you the cure to a plague so easily. She was the woman who had shown you kindness, who offered to give you everything, the woman who ensured your safe journey back home.

How could you doubt her like this?

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Blurred Lines 1

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon/dubcon, power imbalance, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: Your relationship with your boss takes an unpredictable turn.

Characters: Nick Fowler

Note: double chapter day! Thank you to @alicedopey for the ask! I see you girl.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

Cotton drags over tinted skin, flecks it red catching along with the new blood trickling from the split. A hiss passes through clenched teeth despite your gentleness. The act reminds you of when your daughter was only six, crying over a scraped knee as you covered it with a Spongebob bandaid. You don't have any of the yellow strips now, just the roll of gauze and medical tape.

"Ah," Nick clenches his jaw again.

"Sorry," you murmur, "it needs pressure."

You push your thumb against the cotton and he winces, forcing a smile as he crackles out a chuckle.

"I can handle it, honey," he assures you as you hold the cotton above his brow, his other brilliant eye looking up at you. "Just like you handle me so well."

You don't respond. Your boss is a mercurial man. One moment, charming, the next rigid and ignitable. You've learned it's better to just go along with whatever mood he's chosen.

"Other guy looks worse," he remarks as you lift the cotton.

You nod, "I'm sure, sir."

He laughs again, closing his eyes with a sigh. He sits reclined in one of the leather armchair, his head tilted as you tend to him. It's after midnight. You're supposed to be at home sleeping. Your daughter's coming back from college for the weekend, you planned on brunch.

You sift out the box of slender steri-strips and bend over him, carefully sealing the gash above his brow. He's a handsome man. Objectively, you must admit it. Dangerous, too, but you don't wonder about the cuts and bruises. He has a shining badge that tells you more than enough.

"Hands of a goddess," he purrs as he opens his other eye again.

You stand and gather up the waste, packing away the medkit. You thank him plainly and fight the urge to look at the clock. You wad up the used gauze in your fist.

"Sir, is there anything else tonight?"

He lifts his head, both eyes on you now. He considers you as he sits straight and grips his knees. He stands and shrugs, spinning on his heel and striding to the mirror hung on the wall, just above the low table decorated with brass and oak.

"Did I interrupt you?" He asks as he checks his reflection. His left cheekbone is purpled and scraped.

"No, I was only sleeping," you say. You try not to let on that it doesn't come easy or often for you. It's not his concern.

"Mmm," he squints at himself and winces as it tugs at his wound. "Well, you can find an extra room here, drive back in the morning."

"That's kind, sir, but I'm okay," you back up, "I'll clean this up and go if there's nothing else."

"You'll just be back tomorrow," he turns and crosses his arms.

"Um, it's my day off, sir."

He clicks his tongue and nods, "forgot."

You force a small smile. No big deal.

"Got big plans then?"

You hesitate. He doesn't usually ask. You shake your head. You don't think he really cares.

"Would you like some scotch before I go then?"

He inhales, chest rising deeply before falling again. He drops his arms and slips his hands into his pockets. One tail of his shirt is untucked and his jacket is splotched with dark stains. He is sauvely unkempt.

"Sure," he grumbles as he paces before the artificial fireplace.

You dip your chin and leave him. You toss away the garbage and tuck away the kit. You wash your hands before you return to the den and take the thick-bodied decanter from the cabinet. He stands with one hand on the mantle as he stares at the floor.

You pour him a glass and bring it to him. He accepts it without looking up. You ask him if he wants the rest left out for him. He says it doesn't matter.

You bid him good night as he resumes his pensive trance. The adrenaline slakes away and now he's coming down. He'll be in for a good sleep, a lot better than your own. You'll be lucky to get a few hours before you're due to meet Josephine.

🥃

You smile across at your daughter. Every time you see her, she seems more grown up than the last. She has a pretty flower pin in her hair and her lips are glossed the perfect shade of rose. She reminds you of your age, both in a good way and a bad way.

You don't fail to notice the other looks in Josephine's direction. Joey, she corrected you when you picked her up. The changes in her make you feel stagnant. You suppose that comes with age too. You're done blossoming, you only have the wilting ahead of you.

"So, exciting," you say as you pinch the stem of your glass, a pair of mimosas between you as you await your entrees, "you got an internship."

"Um, yeah, it's not bad," she pushes her shoulders up, "my boss is okay, I guess."

"That's good, most bosses don't earn much more than 'eh' as a rating," you kid, "sorry, kiddo."

"Mom," she warns.

"I know, sorry," you correct yourself, "I'll try not to do it again."

You remember being her age. Caught in between adulthood and childhood, not wanting to be reminded of the latter.

"It's fine," she sighs, "I just... I'm trying to be a grown-up, you know?"

"Oh, you've got lots of time for that, Miss Lawyer," you trill, "you are very grown up. You know that, don't you? I'm so proud of you."

"Still got a far way to go," she sips from her own glass. You couldn't have ever imagined your daughter with prosecco sparkling in her hand, but there she is. You almost can't believe she's yours. "Let's talk about you. That's a lot less stressful."

"Ha, but boring," you roll your eyes. "You know, same old."

"Oh, trust, I could tell by the dark circles."

"Oof, you did not," you cackle, "Josephine-- Joey."

"You should try some vitamin C cream--"

"Don't," you warn her with a point across the table.

She giggles and her eyes flit around. There's something else. Something she's not telling you. But she wants to.

"What's going on?" you prompt.

"This is such a nice place," she looks at the table and fidgets, "thanks for breakfast, mom..."

"But..." you add on.

"I... hate to ask but..."

"You need money," you utter, "that's okay. We can make it work. What's it for?"

"Books," she says, "I kinda ran out before I could buy them all, so..."

"That's okay. I'll see if I can't get a few extra hours at work then."

As if he could hear the very allusion to his existence, your phone flashes with a private caller. It's Nick. It's only ever him. You flip the phone down to hid the call.

"Take it," your daughter insists, "it's fine."

"No, it isn't. It's my day off. It's our day," you say, "it can wait."

She smiles. She's so pretty. You can't help but feel inadequate next to her; your own daughter. She's young and vibrant and you're wearing a blouse you bought a decade ago that squeezes your middle a bit too tight.

"Like I said, I'm boring," you sit forward, "tell me about the good stuff. The juicy stuff. Any boys-- or, men?"

"Mom," she snipes.

"What? I gotta live vicariously through you."

She rolls her eyes, "no."

You laugh. You always loved teasing her. She's hard-nosed and too focused to worry about the piddly troubles caused by boys. Or...

"Any girls?"

She looks at you with fire in her eyes. Ah, that's it.

"What's her name?" You goad.

"No, it's nothing. We're not even-- I mean, there's no one," she takes another gulp of her mimosa.

"Sureeee," you drag out the word teasingly, "how many more of those to spill?"

"Enough," she warns, "what about you, huh? You seeing anyone besides your soap operas?"

Now it's your turn to frown, "no," you answer evenly, "I... don't think that's in the cards for me, honey."

"Mom, it's okay," she softens her voice, "dad wouldn't... he would want you to be happy."

"Mm, he would, but he was my happy," you bat your lashes against the singeing heat. "I'm okay, really."

"You deserve someone," she says. "You don't have to be alone."

"I am alone, doesn't mean I'm lonely," you deflect. "Anyway, let's enjoy this. I don't get enough of you."

"Alright, twist my arm, I'll settle for free mimosas and a breakfast bowl," she gives a snarky grin.

You smile. She's the hope you have left. You hope that she never goes through the same pain again. One loss is enough for both of you.

🥃

Joey orders and Uber and you sidle in next to her. You clutch your phone over your purse as the haze of the mimosas fogs in your vision. You may have indulged a bit much.

Your phone shines and you look down. 'Private'.

"I see what you mean about bosses," Joey chides.

"It's not-- not a big deal," you dismiss the call.

"Mom, maybe it's an emergency," she sniffs, "he's been calling a lot."

"He's an adult, I just sweep up his crumbs," you wave her off.

Your phone lights up once more. You're starting to get paranoid. Still, you have to maintain boundaries. Today is your day off.

You exhale and sit back. You watch the city smear by and yawn. The restless night tingles on your eyelids.

Finally, you get to your apartment and slump out of the Uber. You stop as Joey helps you tip the driver with the app and you carry on into the lobby of your building. The feeling of the world passing you by lingers beyond the car ride.

Upstairs, you get Joey settled into the room you haven't changed since she left. She puts her bag on the bed and hangs out in the living room as you put on a pot of coffee. It's too early to be this tipsy. You yawn and your phone once more comes to life.

You swipe it up and tell Joey to help herself to the coffee as you sweep out of the room. You head down the hall and step into your bedroom as you answer, "Mr. Fowler."

"You're busy?" Nick asks.

"It's my day off," you say firmly.

"Yes, we talked about that."

You're quiet. Confused. You try to recall the last time he bothered you outside of work. When you're not being paid for it, you never really hear from him.

"Is something going--" you stop and suppress a hiccup. It's more dehydration than the alcohol. "On?"

"I have guests coming," he says, "thought you might like some overtime."

"Oh, sir, I'm sorry, but--"

"Clearly you're disposed," he says tersely. Is he mad?

"I wasn't expecting--"

"It's fine. It was an offer. I can manage on my own."

"Of course, sir, I wouldn't--"

You flinch as the line cuts and the call goes dead with a bloop. You pull the phone away from your face and furrow your brow. Really? He hung up on you.

You toss your phone on the bed. Whatever. Forget him. Even if you weren't three glasses deep, you wouldn't leave Joey just to kowtow to his pretentious friends.

[antihibikase-archive]

Guy who is Every Protagonist Ever

[whattadroid]

watched After Yang and feeling absolutely destroyed by the implications of it all !!!!

[audipiu]

I had an inspired bus ride home last night and did some thumbnailing

[strayslost]

i've seen the theory that fyodor's essentially going to "possess" sigma so to speak in varying different places now and i am so scared. and kind of excited.