#but same problem also too early in the series

[unordinary-diary]

I’ve discussed before the parallels between Blyke and John, but here I shall call attention to the way that the two of them are drawn.

Unfortunately I don’t appear to have any good pictures of Blyke OR John where Blyke isn’t getting beaten up, but I’m here to point out how similar they look. They wear the same uniform, of course, they have similar builds, the same haircut/style, and the same eye color.

Even later on in the series, when Uru-chan began to vary the facial features of the characters (namely eye shape), Blyke and John remained strikingly similar.

(There was also a point in time where Blyke’s hair was drawn more out to the sides, presumably to differentiate him from John post-hair gel, but it is not drawn that way anymore.)

I’d like to point out this panel:

This was taken from the season 2 part 1 recap.

It... really looks like john is beating up himself. Of course, we as the audience recognize that panel and we know that it’s Blyke, but the two of them could’ve been switched and it would look the same. I believe that this was an intentional choice; not all flashback panels have the same effects on them, and this particular effect happens to make Blyke’s hair look black. Also, with the panel that is chosen, Blyke’s face is not visible. Even if their faces did look significantly different, we wouldn’t be able to tell.

[kerosene-saint]

realizing that my roughest patch mental health wise was late 2022 and early 2023 is like. wow. how the fuck did I not see that before.

[neptunianmars]

Saturn in the houses

hii! i'm back! i'm going to do a mini series of the outer planets (Saturn, Jupiter, Uranus, Neptune, and Pluto) throughout the houses to strengthen my understanding and help others with theirs! i'm starting with Saturn because it's probably the one i connect to spiritually the most.

Saturn is the planet of structure, of tenacity, of restriction. most make Saturn out to be depressing or “bad,” and while he is a malefic, he is widely misunderstood. Saturn forces responsibility and obligation on the native to wield positive results. only through patience, dedication, and hard work can you satisfy Saturn and receive rewards beyond your imagination. 

Saturn’s glyph is Jupiter’s glyph inverted because where Jupiter expands, Saturn limits. Saturn doesn’t let you get ahead of yourself.

in domicile: traditionally Aquarius, modernly Capricorn

in detriment: traditionally Leo, modernly Cancer

in exaltation: Libra

in fall: Aries

Saturn in the 1H: here, Saturn limits identity. you take life in a serious manner, including yourself. you have a hard time expressing your true personality under the shadow of self doubt, low esteem, and self restraints. you may feel like you have to always work hard or struggle, and if you’re not then you think that means you’re not moving through life correctly. Saturn will throw you new hurdles to push you to become more confident in yourself and abilities. when you learn to work with him, you will become more comfortable in your skin and in life. 

Saturn in the 2H: here, Saturn limits value. you place a strong importance on money, possessions, and your personal space. for you, a lack of these things leads to low self worth. you have an ingrained fear of not having enough, of not being able to survive. no matter how much you have, you are worried about what you don’t. Saturn will throw you loss and hardship to push you to lose this fear and embrace finding security in other areas of life. when you learn to work with him, you will feel more free and secure at the same time. 

Saturn in the 3H: here, Saturn limits structure. you may have matured faster than your peers due to early life experiences, and these instilled a sense of worry and responsibility in you, and can even make you socially withdrawn. you have a hard time communicating your thoughts and needs with others due to self censoring and overthinking. learning new things could also be hard for you, not necesarrily intellectually but on an emotional level. Saturn will throw you curveballs to push you to open up. when you learn to work with him, you will learn to manage your thoughts, words, and emotions.

Saturn in the 4H: here, Saturn limits emotional security. you have a good understanding that home is more than a house, and family is more than blood. you crave a deep connection with others and with a place to call “home.” the problem is now a fear of loneliness is instilled in you, and all of your actions work against this fear. this can cause traits of people pleasing and settling. Saturn will throw you changes to push you to not rely so much on feeling safe. when you learn to work with him, you will lose the fear of being alone, and you will understand that stability can come from yourself. 

Saturn in the 5H: here, Saturn limits pleasure. you feel that you need a reason to enjoy yourself. responsibilities come first, and hobbies come last. or you might only view hobbies as a way to earn money, and not as fun. self expression can be hard too. early experiences might have emphasized the idea that having fun is bad, and so it can be hard for you to have a good time without feeling guilt, and hard for you to throw away your duties. Saturn will throw you reasons to become more spontaneous. when you learn to work with him, you will learn to balance pleasure and responsibility.

Saturn in the 6H: here, Saturn limits routine. you may feel that you thrive in predictable environments, especially when it comes to your career. early experiences could have made you feel that responsibility and hard work are the only pathways to success. while others work to live, you live to work, which can cause stress and worry. you also feel a huge need to service others at the expense of yourself. Saturn will throw you disruption in this routine to push you to live life in the moment. when you learn to work with him, you will learn to go with the flow a little easier. 

Saturn in the 7H: here, Saturn limits intimacy. relationships (partners, friends, family) can tend to feel like the most important thing in life. you have extremely high standards and feel it is a responsibility of you and the other person to maintain those standards. with such a heavy stress on deep connection, it can cause you to be guarded and delay opening up to new people. you have an instilled fear of rejection and loss of control. Saturn will throw you experiences that push you to let go of this need for a perfect relationship and to find happiness within. when you learn to work with him, you will be allowed to build long-lasting and trusting relationships.

Saturn in the 8H: here, Saturn limits personal power. sharing things related to your power such as knowledge and resources can be a scary thing for you, as well as not being in control. you feel that sharing power with others means less for you, when it really means more for everyone. power struggles control your thoughts and actions. you may feel like you hold the burdens of others, but you would prefer that than to the other way around. Saturn throws you situations where you have to constantly relinquish some of your power to push you to embrace transformation. when you learn to work with him, you will feel more comfortable collaborating your power with others.

Saturn in the 9H: here, Saturn limits faith. you may find you have a very logical approach to the world and it’s mysteries. the skeptic belief system you developed as a child due to early experiences tends to stick with you throughout life, and it can be difficult for you to change your ideals as you grow. your rational view on the world can feel almost concrete, and cynical. Saturn throws you objections to your belief system to make you think of the bigger picture. when you learn to work with him, you will view the world with an open mind and gain a wonderful wisdom.

Saturn in the 10H: here, Saturn limits success. your life path is a huge deal for you, and it may take you many years before settling on a career or calling. you have a huge amibition, one so large that it can cause you to feel extremely hard on yourself or anxious about your shortcomings. a fulfilling career can turn into a pathway to self deprecation. no matter your accomplishments, you feel a burning need to be recognized in the world. you might have an intense fear of failure which can inhibit you. Saturn will throw you instances where people might not notice or praise your work to push you to become your own biggest supporter. when you learn to work with him, you will drop the reliance on approval to feel confident.

Saturn in the 11H: here, Saturn limits connection. it may be hard for you to be in groups, or to relate to large groups of people. you prefer quality over quantity when it comes to friends and conversations. this detachment from others can cause you to appear cold at times. you are proud of yourself and your dreams, and your fear is to become lost in the crowd. you might feel a certain resistance in social situations. Saturn will throw you rejection to push you to embrace the deeper connections in your life. when you learn to work with him, you will learn to converse and connect with others without sacrificing your autonomy. 

Saturn in the 12H: here, Saturn limits your boundaries. you prefer to be in solitude and find comfort in being alone. you tend to float in the background of life without much attention from others. you might have a fear of the unknown or of anything non material, including your own mind, and so pursuing a higher mentality is something you stay away from. you are a magnet for attracting negative energy and have to learn to move around it. Saturn will throw you tests that push you to step out of the comfort of your worldly bubble. when you learn to work with him, you will open your mind to your inner self, and to the spiritual world. 

if you want to learn more about your natal Saturn placement or more about your chart in general, i offer personal birth chart readings on my etsy! thanks for reading! :)

[shurisneakers]

unsolved (vi)

Summary: Bucky doesn't even believe in the paranormal. So who the hell thought it was a good idea to stick him in a series about everything haunted for the internet's amusement? With his loose-canon of a teammate who has no concept of subtlety or shits left to give, to make things even worse. (Buzzfeed unsolved AU)

Warnings: swearing, frustrated bucky, obnoxious reader, mentions of hauntings and the paranormal.

A/N: i need to start editing beforehand this series honestly takes to long to edit omg this was supposed to come out 2 hours ago. also thanks so much to @ginevranights for the one tweet in here, and @thebisexual-disaster for calling bucky babygirl because it was incredibly funny to me

Previous part || Series masterlist

Everyone is besotted with the cat.

It makes sense– everyone hates Bucky and will dance with glee upon his downfall. This is all his opinion, of course. The truth is that it is a cat and exists and everyone is thrilled. 

Sensing his awful vibes towards her and the constant suspicion he thinks of her with, she decides she likes sitting outside his room at the early hours of the morning and screaming for him to open up.

Once he does, she strolls in leisurely, takes a look around and then strolls back out. Everyday. On the clock. An alarm clock that will cough up a hairball in front of his door should he not open it to her. 

Also turns out she doesn’t have brown spots, the cat was just dirty. She’s pure white and you’ve taken to calling her something to do with snow or blizzards or something. 

She is his mortal enemy. Bucky doesn’t stop to think that his biggest problem being a feud with a cat is possibly an indication that his life has gotten significantly better. 

As with every week, you bang on his door on Friday morning.

Bucky, who's just fallen asleep after the stupid cat ceremoniously woke him up that morning, does not find this ritual as entertaining as you do, but his opinion has rarely held weightage in matters such as his sanity or his sleep schedule. 

He does considr for a whole day that you and the cat are in cahoots to ensure he is as miserable as possible. It wasn’t outside the realm of possibility– Sam talked to birds or and Clint talked to lizards or whatever.

You yell something incomprehensible to him. Bucky yells something back. The world keeps spinning, nothing changes.

Other than the sinking feeling on his chest, that was a bit more pronounced than usual, to the point where it’s a bit hard to breathe.

He pries open one eye, ready to name five things he sees, four things he hears, three things he touches.

The stupid cat smacks him in the face. 

He shoves her off his torso, and along with her, the sinking feeling also reduces. 

After a very useful day of staying in bed no less than three attempts to get back to sleep, Bucky sneaks out of the tower when dusk begins to fall to hopefully get some rest on the park’s grass.  

It’s a nice evening out, the sky was painted a burnt orange, and the air wasn’t too chilly. He could even stop for a burger on the way back to top off a lovely nap. 

But even a gorgeous sunset is not enough to distract him from his heightene awareness going off.

From the corner of his eye, he sees a black van trailing slowly behind him.

He picks up the pace, jogging past a street food vendor and a newspaper stand, and the van only speeds up to keep up.

Soon enough, Bucky breaks into a sprint, ducking into an alleyway and waiting until the van drives past him before stalking back out, eyes vigilant.

Whatever. Stalker be damned, he was going to go to the fucking park. And get a burger. 

But the second he makes a turn on the street corner, the same black van pulls right up to him, not leavning even two feet of space between it and him.

Bucky, annoyed and with 80 years worth of boredom with this schtick, scowls as he yanks open the damn door, ready to just punch and move on with his day.

“Get in loser, we’re going out,” you call from the driver’s seat.

He growls, letting the handle go. “What the actual fuck is wrong with you?”

“What’s wrong with me? I literally told you in the afternoon that I’m picking you up and you starting running from me, you baboon,” you exclaim. “Is that what you’re wearing in this video? Did you not do your laundry?”

Alright, so maybe it was on him to figure out what you actually yelled at him through the door earlier in the day. That doesn’t stop him.

Nostrils flaring, he continues to ignore you. “Who the fuck does this? Why do you have a van?”

“Style,” you insist. “We’re gonna be late, now come on. We’re leaving.”

Sensing that this conversation had reached a standstill, Bucky employs his next best technique.

“Where?” he demands.

“You’ll find out when we get there. Now get in,” you pat the spot next to you before pulling up your phone. “We’ll get there in about an hour–”

“No.”

Your neck cranes slowly to look at him incredulously. “The fuck you mean ‘no’?”

“You could be kidnapping me.” He stands with his arms crossed, tone defiant. 

“Right,” you snort. “You seen yourself? Food laws say I need a cooling truck to transport that much beef around.”

Bucky feels his mouth opening and shutting almost immediately, a strange feeling creeping into the tips of his ears.   

He clears his throat. “I’m not getting in the car unless you tell me where we’re going.”

“I’m not fuckin’ kidnapping you Bucky,” you say, loudly. “And even if I wanted to do it– which I don’t, because you can be so annoying sometimes– you’d never see it coming.” 

“How would I know?” He’s offended that you only think he’s annoying sometimes when he’s been working very hard to make sure it’s a constant feature of his. “Who’s to say there’s not some guy in there with a gun–”

“A gun wouldn’t do shit when you’re so thick in the head–”

“And then SHIELD’s gonna have to shell out the ransom–”

“SHIELD would pay them to keep you.” 

“Oh, so you are kidn–”

“Get in the car,” you say loudly before sitting upright, and turning your attention to the windshield again. “Or don’t. I don’t give a shit.”

He narrows his eyes at you grabbing the steering wheel, while your telekinesis moves to close the door on him.  

Bucky sticks his metal hand between the door and the car, and pries it back open before climbing in. 

“Now what,” he mumbles, arms still crossed over his chest like he’s throwing a tantrum. He even refuses to put the seatbelt. Rebellion. 

You don’t answer, and the car doesn’t move.

When he looks over at you, you have a triumphant, smug smile on your face.  

“What,” he bites. 

You tsk. “Reverse psychology. Always works with children.”

Bucky immediately grabs at the handle, but the locks immediately click into place and you step on the pedal and send the van flying down the road before he has a chance to throw himself out. 

The car pulls up to a mansion. 

All the windows are closed and covered in newspaper, giving him no indication as to what was inside. The lawn was mostly brown, with weeds taking up more space than grass and dead flowers lining the fence. 

“There’s gotta be like 5 bedrooms in that thing,” you note, as you both make your way towards it. “How many ghosts do you think are in there?”

“Zero,” Bucky states plainly. 

You continue to talk like he doesn’t exist. “A house that big, there’s gotta be a ghost butler in there. Maybe a ghost maid.”

“None.”

“Five ghost maids, one for every room, and maybe a cook–”

Bucky starts speed walking, leaving you behind to admire the structure looming over the both of you, only illuminated by the streetlights outside.  

Bucky knocks hard on the door, annoyed that it was getting colder and that he was stuck in his stupid running shorts in a house that definitely had no heating for the evening. 

Eventually, you end up beside him, talking as he keeps his sight fixed right ahead. 

Checking your phone to confirm the address, you mumble absentmindedly to him, “This kid tweeted us like fifteen times in the last week, this is gonna be a sick surprise. I love meeting my fa–”

“A surprise?” Bucky jerks his head towards you. “You didn’t tell him we’re coming?”

“Well no,” you lower your phone, “because that would give the ghosts some warning and we–”

His eyes nearly bug out of his head. “We can’t just go into some random kid’s house and film–”

“He’s hardly random, he’s been bombarding our inbox–”

Your defence is cut off when the door creaks open painfully, slowly, like it was letting out its last dying breath.

“Woah,” you whisper, eyes wide. “Ghost door.”

“Shut the fuck up,” Bucky mumbles.

“Hello?” you call out.

When no one replies immediately, Bucky shoves his hands into his pockets, ready to leave. 

Instead, you shove him to the side, taking his pace in front of the house. He offers no resistance, only a growl in annoyance. 

You clear your throat, before calling loudly, “Hewwo–”

A dark hooded figure springs out at breakneck speed from behind the door, arms raised high, legs wide. 

You don’t look fazed at all, staying entirely still, only with one eyebrow raised.

“Right,” you say. “You must be Jason.”   

“Yuh,” he answers.  

“Where are your parents?” Bucky demands immediately, choosing to ignore the full body cringe his own words give him. 

“Indianna or something, man. I dunno?” The door trembles open a bit more, giving you a clearer look at the guy. “Do you guys wanna come in? It’s cold.”

You take a step inside the huge foyer, almost steretoypically complete with a cascading staircase and big paintings of people on horses and stuff.

 Jason eventually peels the hoodie away from his face, shoving his arms inside the sleeves and spinning it around so he was wearing it the right way. 

“This is Bucky, by the way,” you introduce before beckoning to the man who had refused to move all this while. “Come on, babygirl.”

Bucky does not look wowed with the theatrics as he stands there, arms folded tight across his magnificent chest. 

Jason looks at you. “Is babygirl coming?”

Bucky inhales sharply while you stifle a laugh. “Do not call me that.”

“Oh, he loves it when people call him that, he’s just super pissy because he didn’t get enough attention today,” you coo. “Get in here Bucky.” 

He glares at you with enough intensity to set the house on fire.   

The kid looks like he’s in his early twenties, with shaggy brown hair that hides sleepy eyes, bad posture and a clean shaven face.. His hoodie is paired with grey sweatpants and yellow flip flops that were about one size too small for him. 

“Why’d you tweet at us?” Bucky questions, wondering what he had to do with anything.  

Jason juts his chin up contemplatively. “What do you guys do again?”

You stare at him to avoid how Bucky was staring at you. 

“We hunt ghosts and help old ladies cross the street.” You flash him a smile. 

“Cool.” Jason nods appreciatively. “I don’t have an old lady here.” 

Your eyebrow twitches. Bucky would have taken great joy in your awkwardness had he not felt entirely exasperated by the whole exchange. 

“Well, Jason, you DM’d us about the ghost in the house,” you communicate even slower. “The one that was being rude?”

“Oh, right,” he drags out. “You’re the people from YouTube. Avengers. I didn't think y’all were real, lol.”

“What the fuck.” Bucky mumbles to himself, because there was no way this guy said ‘LOL’ out loud.  “Did you just invite us inside your house without knowing who we are–”  

“Yes, we’re those people,” you interrupt, pulling out a card from your fucking sleeve. “The Graveyard Shift crew, ready and at your service.”

“Since when do we have business cards?” Bucky presses.

“Ignore him, he’s an intern.” You drop the card onto Jason’s hand. “Anyway, we’re the best rated ghost hunters within a twenty yard radius. Maybe even thirty, but I don't wanna get too ahead of myself.”

“Radical.” He flips the card back and forth without actually reading anything. Bucky wonders if he was looking for pictures. “Aren’t you supposed to have like, tech and people and stuff?”

“Some of us have performance anxiety–” you give Bucky a side eye and he rightfully looks absolutely incensed. “So, I’ve got a camera following us at all times and I’ve got all the tech we need.”

Bucky suddenly feels very aware of something hovering behind him, and it takes an incredible amount of self-restraint to not instinctually slap it out of existence.

He whips around to find a camera floating mid air, aimed directly at him almost like it is waiting for a reaction. While weird, it was still better than the stupid GoPro on his head that elongated his forehead to a sixhead.

“And I’ve got a REM Pod, a spirit box to pick up sounds when they talk to us, a water gun full of assorted waters from different beliefs for one gigantic spirit burning milkshake–” you list rapidly and Bucky cannot even tell where the fuck you’re pulling these things out from. “So, we should be good to go.”

Jason doesn’t look bothered at all, as he drags out, “Cool, lol.”

Bucky almost feels offended on your behalf by the little twerp. 

“Hold this,” you instruct, pressing the spirit box into Bucky's chest without giving him a choice. “Ready whenever you are, but before we start I just wanted to ask– why’d you come to us for help? I’m sure you have plenty of options.”

“Oh,” the guy says, wiping his hands down the side of his sweatpants. “You guys are Avengers and stuff…”

He doesn’t add anything else, watching you both like it was obvious. 

When neither of you offer an answer, he continues “I mean, no one else seemed to like, know kickboxing and shi–”

“I’m sorry– kickboxing?”

“Or like, karate.” He lifted his shoulder in a half shrug. “Whatever you guys are into, I don’t really care what style of combat it is.”

When it finally clicks, Bucky snorts. “You want us to fuckin’ fight your ghost?”

“Yeah, like a punch or something, I guess.” Jason looks too serious. “He’s being a real bitch dick.”

You exhale steadily. “First of all, how do you know it’s a ‘he’?”

Jason shakes his head, and his hair falls directly into his one eye, leaving you to only look at the other. “I’m pretty sure it’s my uncle.”

“Your uncle?” 

“Well yeah,” the guy responds, “this is his house. He built it and decorated it and shit.” 

You stare at him in disbelief. “You didn’t mention that in the brief.”

Bucky looks at you. “You got a brief?”

“Uh, yeah, it’s my uncle’s house, I guess,” Jason continues when you wave Bucky off. “He, like, kicked the bucket a few years ago. Like, totally died off.”

Bucky’s eyebrows knit together. 

“We weren’t, like, close or anything but I guess he didn’t have any other relatives which figures, because he’s a pain in the ass, but I’m the next male heir or whatever, so I got it.”

“Male heir,” Bucky repeats slowly, wondering which fucking TV show he’s walked into.

“A 6BHK in this economy is a fuckin’ castle,” you shush him, turning to Jason again. “Didn’t you bother renovating or anything?”

“Clearly not,” Bucky mumbles, because he may have only known Jason for a grand total of a few minutes, but he really doubts that it was he who picked out redwood furniture and gold trimmings. 

“Nah, I don’t care. I usually spend all day doing gigs at my friend’s house but he told me I can’t keep throwing ragers there every night so I wanna do that here but he’s just being a big baby about it,” he explains all in one breath.

“What gigs?” Bucky asks curiously.

“I’m a DJ who specialises in acoustic EDM,” he says, chest puffing in pride. 

“Of course.” Bucky nods in return. 

Jason turns to you. “Didn’t think you guys were coming, not gonna lie.”

“You just do that whole door opening show to everyone?” you ask, amused.

“Uh, no, I just heard you guys arguing outside and thought it’d be funny,” he says. “I got you guys good, lol.” 

“Well, not me,” you counter, “but Bucky, for sure, pissed his pants a litt–”

“Anyway, here’s the keys. I’m out,” Jason cuts in. “It’s my last three performances at Rick’s house.” 

He tosses the key at babygirl’s Bucky’s chest, who instinctively catches it with ease.  

“You’re just giving us the house for the night?” Bucky stares at him incredulously. 

“Yuh. There’s, like, beer in the fridge if you want. No one delivers here ‘cause someone snitched that this place is haunted, which was kinda fucked. So there’s ramen in the fridge too if you’re hungry.”

“Why is there ramen in–”

“See y’all later, lol,” he takes off without another word. 

Bucky’s left staring after the guy who just strolls down the garden and out the gate without a second look.

“I think I want to adopt him.” Your gaze trails after him, before you crack your knuckles. “Alright. Let’s get this guy’s bitch dick uncle.”

The longer Bucky spends in the house, he can tell with absolute certainty that someone loved this place deeply. It is styled and decorated with the flair of a passion project, even though it currently looked like it dreamed of being a landfill when it grew up. There were cobwebs everywhere and several dust bunnies in every corner, and also many crushed cans of beer all around the floor. 

The previous owner had taste for sure. Bucky’s not sure if he’d appreciate Jason turning it into the newest hotspot for his ragers. Whatever that meant. 

“How long are we going to be here?” he asks, swiping a finger across the table. 

“Why, you got something to do?” you pause before adding, “Or someone to do?”

He sends you a jaded glance. “None of your business.”

“You literally called me the love of your life.” You scoff from your corner of the room. 

“You called yourself that,” Bucky reminds monotonously. 

“And you have never denied it.”

“I’m denying it right no-”

“Bzzt, too late. Anyway,” you announce. “Your hot date will have to be postponed, I fear. We are not leaving until we get some sort of proof.”

“Two hours.” Bucky holds up two dust coated fingers.

“I’ll buy you a pretzel.”

“Three hours.” His middle finger goes up in solidarity. 

You grin. “More than enough. We’re gonna make you a believer, babygirl.”

True, and surprisingly enough, an hour later, his whole life changes. 

“Holy shit,” Bucky can’t quite believe his eyes either, stomach turning. 

“What?” You’re somewhere behind, stupid machine held up as you spin around like a ballerina waiting for something to do something and make a noise or some shit. He doesn’t know. 

Bucky has tucked the spirit box behind his ear like a pencil, arms gripping the doors.

“What the hell,” he trails off slowly, eyes glued to the sight in front of him, hypnotising.

“Did you find something?” you whisper-yell, and the camera whizzes past you into his line of sight.

Bucky swallows the bile in his throat. 

“When he said ramen’s in the fridge, I didn’t think he meant he boiled a fuckin’ bucket full of noodles and just left it in there. What the fuck.” He grabs the aforementioned bucket and lifts it into the air. “Who does this? What the fuck?”

You let out a huff, lightly stomping yor foot. “Be so serious right now.”

“Are you crazy? Look at this.” Bucky spins it around to look at it from every angle. “It’s got ‘Jason’s ramen’ written on it. Who the fuck else’s would this be?”

“You’re supposed to be looking for ghosts,” you insist. “That is demonic behaviour. It’s not the same.”

“I’m lookin’ for snacks,” Bucky puts the damn bucket back and ignores it to look through the rest of the fridge. “There’s nothing here. What does that kid eat?”

“If you’re looking for snacks, you gotta look in the mirror,” you hum hopefully. 

“Hilarious.” Bucky’s voice comes back muddled from the several bottles of beer in the fridge. 

“I’m sorry, you’re right. It’s not useful.” you correct, “You said you’re looking for snacks, not a whole meal.”

He stops briefly. Bucky’s not sure what to do with all this strange attention you give him. It makes him feel all sorts of ways and he doesn’t like it one bit. 

“Whatever,” he mutters, continuing to scavenge. 

“Woah, calm down there, Prince Charming.” You snicker. “Give a person a warning before pulling out all your best lines on me like that.”

“You’re supposed to be working, not flirting,” Bucky responds, feeling the same burn at the tip of his ears from that evening. 

“When I was in the events business, multitasking was considered a valuable and necessary skill.”

Bucky stands up so fast he nearly hits his head on the fridge.

“What’s with all these random jobs you keep saying you’ve done?” he questions. “They told me you went on the run a long time ago and that’s where you met Nat.”

Your face changes, features becoming more solemn. He doesn’t know what’s going on, because he’s never seen you this serious before, not even when you guys were hanging out in the library. 

“Bucky,” your voice drops a few octaves, straight and steady. “Answer me this honestly.”

He feels a bit defensive because it almost feels like he’s fucked up somehow.

“What?” he questions. 

You watch him for another second before taking a step toward him, observing him closely.

“Did you really ask people about me?” 

He straightens up ever so slightly. “Why?”

You look at him gravely. “I got one more question.”

You take another step, reducing the space btween you to almost a ciminally low amount. Bucky’s sure he can hear your heartbeat. 

You watch his eyes look into yours intently, a flciker or doubt there.

You open your mouth, voice low and strong, “When will you admit to yourself you’re obsessed with me?”

It takes a second for it to register, and almost instantly he shoves you away, only to have you break into a laugh. 

“You’re so fucking annoying.”

“You have a crush on me,” you sing, “why else are you going around asking your friends about me? Do you want them to put in a good word? You gonna ask them to deliver your handwritten note to me?”

“Fuck right off, and then fuck off some more,” he barks, grabbing a beer from the front of the line. 

“Don’t worry, Buck, I think you’re the cutest guy in our whole grade, no competition,” you drawl, grinning at the pissed expression on his face. 

Bucky swerves around you to beeline to the kitchen island to drink his stupid beer in peace. He thinks that his retirement age is actually nearing. 

A house like this, with a room for Steve and another guest room for whoever wanted to visit. Possibly a dog. There wasn’t musch left in life to do, so he may as well spend the rest of it out in the suburbs in quiet. 

A few seconds later, you break the silence with, “But to answer your question: I did go on the run. I just did all those jobs while I was running.”

He turns to you, noting that while your face was light, it seemed like there was sincerity and truth in what you were saying. 

“Why?” he asks, voice gruff.

You shrug, half a smile on your face. “Why not? I met Nat when she broke down the door of my accountancy office on one of her missions. I threw some staplers and hit a guy with a printer, and from then on, whenever I needed help or she needed my freaky little powers, we’d reach out. Years later, she asked if I wanted to come join, I was bored and now here we are. I’m a nepo baby, if you kinda think about it.” 

Bucky looks at you, but says nothing. 

“Anyway, brief history aside, I’m going upstairs. There’s nothing here other than your bitchy aura and bucket ramen.” The camera spins around to follow you.

Bucky simply ignores you as he swipes all the garbage off the counter and onto the ground so he can lean against it, alone with his beer and new information to process.

However, a loud creek, unmistakable and intense, comes from the floor above. 

You look at Bucky. He doesn’t look the least bit bothered, instead using his metal hand to pop open a beer he fished out of the damn fridge. 

“Can you shut up,” you hiss when he drinks a little too loud for your liking. 

“What,” he asks through a mouthful of beer as he drops the bottle cap onto the counter.

Another creek reverberates loudly through the house.

You make a face at him, somewhere in a mix between excitement and anticipation. 

“Is that supposed to mean something?” he inquires.

“Two creeks in the last minute,” you insist, like he’s stupid. 

He scoffs. “So? It’s an old house, if you breathe too hard the floor’s gonna fall off.”

“It is literally not that old. And second, it’s too much of a coincidence.” You make way towards the stairs, beckoning for him to follow. “And take the spirit box out of your hair, we need to catch if it’s saying something.”

“You're not gonna catch anything because it’s not going to speak because ghosts are not real.” He takes a large swig. 

You ignore him, leaving in search of the sound.

Bucky takes a second before following you anyway, bored out of his mind and with nothing really to do.

“You comin’ in?” he asks from inside the spacious room, beer in hand. 

“I didn’t even buy you dinner yet and you’re already inviting me into your bedroom.”

“Jesus Christ. Stay outside then.”

The room has a strange, musty smell. Bucky, sick and tired of the ebay this kid has been living, drags open the window to let some fresh air in, going so far as to tear a large hole through the newspaper to let the moonlight into the room. 

“Someone keeps moving the furniture back and forth, there’s scratches all over the floor,” you observe, pointing to the ground near the table and the bed. 

“Uh huh,” he says, tossing the spirit box onto the table before taking another swig, ducking out of the way of the camera. 

You scan every corner with the machine in your hand. Bucky wanders around aimlessly for a second before usefully sitting on the bed, leaning against the pillows. 

“You gonna take your shirt off next?” you question. 

Bucky rolls his eyes, taking another sip from his bottle. “Pay attention. Your demons are trying to talk t-.” 

The bed immediately lurches from underneath him, scraping loudly against the wood. 

“What the fuck–” he exclaims, getting right back up, heart in his throat for a damn second. 

You stifle a laugh.

“I’ve had enough of you today.” He puts the damn bottle down on the nightstand. “I’m leaving.” 

“We didn’t even light the candles yet, you can’t–”

The bed scrapes back into place again, but this time Bucky is prepared and done. 

“Stop doing that,” he snaps, “you’re ruining the flo–”

“I didn’t do that,” you tell him, eyebrows and hands raised, “That definitely wasn’t me.”

“Hardy har har. You didn’t push the bed, you didn’t climb the tree in the cemetery, you didn’t conjure up hallucinations of my–” He stops himself abruptly.

It’s too late, though. You very much caught it. 

The look you give him is peculiar. “Hallucinations of your what?” 

“Nothing,” he utters. “Got my wires crossed. Nothing to do with you.”

“Okay,” you drag out, giving him one more uncanny look before turning your attention to the bedpost. “Anyway, I promise you the second one was definitely not me. There’s something else going on here.”

Bucky is starkly sent back to fifteen minutes ago and his thoughts of retirement as he watches you crouch by the floor.

He was too old for this. He was not right for this. The three second glance at his dead sister and his entire life had gone lopsided. Honestly, he could probably handle like two or three more episodes of this nonsense before tapping out completely. 

“I can sense something,” you announce.

“I can sense something too,” he murmurs absentmindedly to himself. “It’s called bullshi–”

“Be quiet, I want to see if we can talk to the guy in the room.” You hold your hand up. “Hey Jason’s uncle. You here?”

He watches, unamused, as nothing changes. No machine beeps, nothing creeks.

“Bucky, you scared him away.” You turn to him, hands on your hips. “You used your big bitch face and you scared away th–”

He launches a pillow at you. It lowers to the ground without ever touching you. 

“Go eat some bucket ramen and maybe you’ll be less bitchy.” Your face lights up, and he can tell you’ve gotten another stupid idea. “Jason’s uncle, are you hungry? Do you want something to eat? Human blood? Metal arm?”

Silence.

“No pretzels for you,” you tsk, but let go of the idea anyway. 

“Maybe your ghost boyfriend likes them, why don’t you ask him?” He pulls out his phone to book himself an Uber. “And since he literally doesn’t talk and you don’t shut up, it’d be a great ma–”

The same pillow he launched at you gets thrown back at him. He simply ducks out of the way, and it hits the nightstand, toppling the bottle over.

“Now look at what you did,” you accuse, pointing at the bottle with the camera following suit. 

“The fuck? I didn't do shit–” Bucky stops speaking when something nudges his leg. 

The bottle that initially had clattered to the ground quite a feet away from him was now by his foot.

“Interesting,” you muse.

“What?” he questions immediately. “That a bottle rolled? It’s a bottle. They do that.”

“Uh huh. Come stand here then.” You jut your thumb out to a few paces away. 

He rolls his eyes but takes a large stride towards you.  

Annoyingly, the bottle rolls right along with him and lands up at his feet.

“Ghost,” you nod along certainly. 

“Why isn't it doing that then?” he argues on instinct, and then his mind catches up, forcing him to take a step back and wonder why the fuck he was still in the house. 

Once again, he genuinely believes that this should be enough. Ghost hunted for a few episodes, read a few stories. He thinks his numbers should be up and that would be convincing enough for Maya to let him get away from the series, especially if he played his 80-years-of-imprisonment card right.  

“You're right.” You peer at him before turning your head up to the ceiling. “Please, ghost man. Please, I’m begging you, hit this man. Plea–”

Bucky feels something smack lightly against the back of his head before falling to the ground.

A second later you erupt into cheers and he turns around to look at the culprit.

A crumpled up piece of paper.  He bends down to pick it up, finding nothing special about it other than some random scribbles. Probably some more of Jason's junk. 

“Ghosts are real and they hate Bucky Barnes, baby!,” you cheer. “Ohh, I’m gonna make so much money. Babygirl, you are a poltergeist magnet. ”

“It’s a piece of paper and the window is open,” he groans, tossing it back onto the ground, where it dances around, proving his point. “The wind carried it over and it touched my head.”

“Right. The wind.” You roll your eyes. “You’re like, fifteen feet tall, only God can see the top of your head.”

“That doesn’t mean any–”

“Hush, I’m thinking. Quiet, human Burj Khalifa.” You hold your hand up. “Let’s see. The ghost knocks on furniture when we were downstairs. It shoves the bed and rolls a bottle around on the ground when we’re arguing and right when you’re leaving, it throws a piece of paper at you. What could it all mean?”

“I got it.” BUccky straightens up. “Holy shit, I think I know what it means.”

“What?” you ask, wonder and mystery. “What does it mean?”

“It means that my Uber’s here,” Bucky replies in the same tone and mystery. “You’re insane. I’m leaving. Bye.”

“Ugh, you’re such a loser. If I turn up dead, you’ll have been the last person to see me alive.”

“I’ll see you at home.” He shoves his hands into the pocket of his shorts before turning on his heel. 

“I do not have a home.” you say, reaching to grab the piece of paper he discarded and shoving it into your bag; 

“Okay, see you on the news, then.” He kicks the damn bottle out of the way before heading out the door. “I’ll make sure they use a real nice picture of you.”

“Bitch–” you begin, when something catches your attention

The bed creeks loudly, reflexes instantly sending him into fight or flight. 

Bucky turns to you to cuss you out again for the nth time that evening, but you’ve also got a look of confusion painted all over you. 

“Hold on,” you say strangely, voice thick with theorising, “I think I actually figured it out.”

When Jason finally makes his way back to the house two hours later, his hair is littered with stray bits of confetti and his eyes are smudged with eyeliner. He’s got a smoothie cup full of glittery red liquid and a straw, and what looks like little bits of fruit floating around in there. 

“Looks like the gig was a rager,” you comment. 

“Nah this wasn’t from the gig. I got lost,” he dismisses, and then refuses to expand further. “Anyway, you kicked his ass, right?”

You look at Bucky, who is standing with his arms crossed over his chest, bitch face on full blast as he looks pissed in the corner.

“Your uncle– he decorated this house himself, right?” you prompt. 

“Yeah.” Jason says, taking a sip from his unidentified liquid. “He got a bunch of shit custom made.” 

“Right.” You nod. “And when you came in here, did you shift the furniture around?”

“Yeah, lol, it was mad ugly,” Jason divulges, taking one large last sip before dropping his cup onto the ground. “Mine’s way better.” 

“Have you considered that maybe… your uncle doesn’t like that?” you try gently, eyes following the cup as it clatters gracefully onto the ground. 

Bucky talks to himself under his breath, the same as when you told him that the only time spooky shit had happened was when he dropped bottle caps, shifted beds out of their original places, left behind bottles and other paper. But he doesn’t contradict you. 

“I see,” Jason says. “What’s wrong with moving furniture again?”

Bucky wonders how the guy made it to this age. “Maybe he just doesn’t like you moving his shit around. Not that there’s a ghost at all.” 

“Hmm,” he says, following along. “So I stop moving the bed and other stuff, and he’ll stop being such a bitch?”

“And maybe he doesn’t like you leaving trash around the place?” you eye the cup, completely understanding where the uncle was coming from. 

“Okay,” Jason says again. 

“So you’ll stop?” you proposition slowly.

He shrugs. “Nah, I like it better this way.”

“Jesus Christ,” Bucky exhales.

You hold back an audible groan. 

“You could, like, punch him to get him off my back. Like, all the way off my back,” the guy suggests instead. “Like, sucks for him that he’s dead, I guess, but it’s like, my house now.”

You stay quiet and wait. 

Sure enough, the cup from earlier bumps into his leg in silent fury.

He stares down at it, giving it a kick. It rolls away before rolling right back with malice. Bucky narrows his eyes at it, too tired at this point to even complain. 

“This house is weird, man,” Jason declares after fifteen rounds of kicking it and watching it roll back. 

“Look–” you sigh. “You could just stop littering, and he’ll stop messing with your layout.”

“And take out the trash more than once a month,” Bucky adds from under his breath. 

“Life’s all about compromises. You get his house for free and he gets a clean house to spend his afterlife in.”

“No such thing,” Bucky adds.

You send a glare his way.

“I see,” Jason contemplates, as if it’s the toughest decision on earth to pick up his crushed soda cans. “Yeah, okay.”

A second later, the cup finally stops trying to assault his now pink flip flops. and comes to a standstill. 

The both of you peer at him.

“What?” he asks. 

Your gaze drifts down.

It takes a very long second for it to click.

“Oh ‘Kay,” he says, bending over to pick it up and place it back on his table, looking at you for confirmation, to which you nod. 

It stays in its place. 

“Radical,” he says. 

No one says anything further. The bed doesn’t make a noise either. The air is almost dropping with awkwardness. 

You clear your throat. “Well, that concludes it then. Pleasure meeting ya.”

“You too.” Jason gives you a thumbs up, following it with a peace sign. 

“Bye,” Bucky says curtly, turning to walk out the room.

“Oh! Here’s our business card, in case you or anyone else you–”

Bucky spins you around by your shoulders and drags you out of the room with him. 

On the way back, you sort through all the footage from the evening while Bucky drives the van back. 

Thankfully, it has been relatively quiet the entire time, except for the soft sounds of the radio and the buzz of the heater. Bucky tunes out for most of the ride, one hand on the wheel and the other propping up his head.  

“Huh,” you comment out of the blue. “That’s fun.”

“What?” he asks inattentively . 

“I guess his uncle really was hungry,” you consider. 

Bucky simply keeps quiet and waits for you to go on if you choose to.

“Piece of paper that he threw at you–”

“Piece of paper that the wind picked up,” even his entertaining of you has a limit, but he isn’t paying much attention. 

“It’s got letters on it,” you shove the sheet in front of his eyes, forcing him to swerve on the road in an instant. 

“I’m driving,” he hisses, shoving it aside swiftly. “Do you want us to die?” 

“Yeah, yeah, but look at it,” you insist, only to hold it close to his face again. “Does this mean anything to you? It did hit you across the head.”

He refuses to believe you at first, but the second he glances at it, it’s unmistakable.

‘PB&J’ written messily across the page, small letters, lines jagged like someone was struggling to write with their non-dominant hand.

“That’s nothing,” he dismisses quietly, “He’s a college kid. They live on that shit.” 

“Or maybe someone in the afterworld really misses their PB&J,” you hum. 

Bucky doesn't answer, because the alternative is worse. The alternative means something is going very, very wrong. 

 But you don't seem to pay him any heed, going right back to sorting through footage. 

It’s probably why you don’t notice that his one handed grip on the steering wheel gets tighter, and his face quietly drains of colour. 

here’s my ko-fi if you’d like to support my writing!

to keep up with updates for this fic and others, please follow @shurisneakersupdates and turn on post notifications!

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

i feel like if ace's UM does end up just allowing him to copy other's UM, it would solve a potential problem which is malleus putting everyone into a state of sleep. like they told us that it would only be lifted if malleus either lifts it up on his own or if he dies and idt twst would kill off a major and VERY popular character. but if they give ace that ability as his UM it would solve that in a way?

but if they do give that to ace as his UM i hope that ace would struggle to copy people's abilities, or at least kinda go through the emotions the original spell caster felt when theyre using their UM or when they first awoken it. maybe like a price to pay to use other's abilities but thats just me HAHAHHA

Yeeeah, that's what I was thinking too. I can't imagine Ace's UM being anything but a UM borrowing/mimicry spell right now (due to his own propensity to easily learn new skills and do vocal impressions)... It would also just be really useful for the end of book 7, since the briar barrier can only be taken down with Malleus's death or with Malleus willingly removing his magic. Given Malleus's stubbornness and being in such an emotional state, I really doubt he'd be able to come to his senses even all these hundreds of parts later. I really doubt whether all of our powers combined can take him down either, given his track record of being so stupidly OP. And it for sure wouldn't be a good move on the Twst devs' part to kill off such a money maker and significant part of their marketing for their series. (I do want to point out, however, that Malleus's insane popularity is exclusive to the international/English-speaking part of the fandom; he is not a top contender in JP and I would say has more of a middling status.) Having someone else reproduce his UM could very easily resolve this issue, but I guess that's also highly dependent on if Ace can get a grip on his UM that fast, or if he can even feasibly iron out the kinks of controlling what is probably a very complex spell. Epel, who got his UM most recently in book 6, still seems to have only a 70-80% success rate with his, so it's possible that Ace doesn't fully master his UM even if he gets it as soon as his own dream. I definitely don't think Ace would be able to use his (theoretical) copying UM to its full extent ASAP, as then we could just cut the dreams short right then and there. I feel like it'd become more relevant during the actual OB Malleus showdown or something. In general, there'd have to be come kind of drawback or limitations to his UM even if he got used to casting it at some point (just for power balancing reasons). Maybe there's a cooldown period, or he can only use the UM as much as his imagination will allow, or maybe it requires that he be able to empathize with the feelings of the original mage.

... Oh, you know what??? That might actually tie book 7 up quite nicely! If Ace's UM allows him to copy the UMs of other mages but only with the stipulation that he must empathize or relate to how they were acting when the original mage used their UM... Wouldn't that mean that Ace has to understand Malleus's loneliness and the fear of being left behind by his loved ones??? ACE CAN ACTUALLY PERFECTLY RELATE TO THAT because he was in denial mode that Yuu would be going home earlier in book 7. On top of that, he's probably also harboring shame for making fun of Deuce so much, only to be the one who doesn't have his UM yet. Ace can totally relate to what Malleus is going through 👀 He'd be forced to confront his denial of his own emotional vulnerability because he sees Malleus displaying the very same behaviors.

Maybe Ace gets his UM early on but has no idea how to use it properly until it comes in clutch in the final battle because he realizes (at last) how Malleus is feeling. Then it’s Ace who becomes the trump card that lets us triumph…! And that brings us full-circle—the final boss being beaten by the first student that we met, our first friend… Ace Trappola 🫶

[hoodedjelly]

We are the Same [OCs]

early 20s and some kid hang around a record store somewhere. things happen!

Connoly Collins designed by @call-me-clevy

more oc info and me yappin vvv

one day i just stopped all my friends and asked if i can make ocs based off of us and we're hanging out at some corner store like Clerks the animated series. Changing "some corner store" to a record store and we're here.

They live in Somewhere Shore city, Vincent and Everest work at Somewhere Shore: Record Store (ppl just call it Somewhere Records). Everest has to often look after his quiet little cousin Reen, even if he's working. Milo and Oswald are usual customers that like hanging around (are also often the reason for problems happening around the store, to Everest' distain). Milo likes to tinker and sometimes does freelance to help with broken machines, like record and cd players. Something gay is going on with Oswald and Vincent but they'd be caught dead before they'd admit it. And Everest has a big loser crush on the nicest guy you'd ever meet, Connoly.

They also have a band! It's called We are the Same, they most of the time meet up at Oswald's garage to play. they don't get many offers but this is Somewhere Shore City, it's a little too quiet for what they'd want to be.

if you have any questions about them please ask!!!!!!!! i love these guys a lot

[withleeknow]

wishful thinking. (06)

chapter six: like lightning

summary: the instruction was plain and simple: no strings attached. but you should’ve known from the beginning that it could never apply to you and him.

pairing: minho x f!reader rating: 18+ (minors dni) genres/warnings: friends to lovers, friends with benefits au, college au; fluff, angst, smut; mentions of sex, swearing, this chapter is also pretty mild in terms of warnings? the angst begins here tho !!! could've been more edited but yk lol word count: 4.9k

as always, i’d appreciate any thoughts or comments you may have, and please drop a like and/or reblog if you enjoy reading ♡

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If I never laid eyes on you Would I feel something missing? If you never laid eyes on me Would you know something’s gone?

Happy Accidents - Saint Motel

You don't know if you've ever changed, even once, in your life.

You feel like you're still 8 years old and your best friend is the neighbors' elderly dog that they let you play with every weekend. She's a golden retriever, and she would stand taller than you if she could walk on two legs.

You're still 16 and your happiest memories are of a boy who doesn't love you back. But all of your friends say that he does, and oh, how much you want to believe that their words are true.

And at the same time, you're 22, just a few months shy of 23, sitting in front of a canvas showcasing your own bleeding heart. Your growing pains, laid out by acrylics and gentle brush strokes. You liken yourself to the figure in front of you, the one that's standing in the corner of your painting, overlooking a sea of blues and grays. There's a piece of you that's left behind in everything you create. Sometimes, you leave it there on purpose, a memorabilia for your future self to look back at fondly.

You think of everything in your life that has changed and how you're the only thing that has managed to remain the same. The dog eventually dies and the boy moves on with his life. The passage of time is relentless but you seem to be the only one who can't keep up with the tireless flow. You're always running in place, always stuck behind in the end. There's a past in which you still live, one where you don’t know if you'll ever make it out of.

You think of home and the search comes up empty, like it does every single time. Home isn't here inside of your own body, nor is it within the four walls of your childhood bedroom. You've never felt like you belong anywhere. Everything is always fluctuating, constantly and unabatingly spinning and spinning and spinning when all you're asking for is a minute to stand still and catch your breath.

Home isn't always a place, that much you know. Maybe home isn't even a thing that you build but something that you find, in a person or a touch, in a feeling or a scent. Perhaps that's the problem, isn't it? Home is something you find, and you've spent your whole life searching.

People say your early 20s are supposed to be the best years of your life but that sentiment has never resonated with you. These are the years that you spend in excruciating limbo, where you're not an adult but you're forced to be anyway. The years where loneliness is an invisible friend that shadows you day in and day out, a presence you don’t want around but can't seem to shake off, a haunting that's far too gentle to be considered such. These aren't your best years; these are your saddest years.

None of it helps build character. It just hurts.

It hurts. You accept that it hurts. You keep on living, always accompanied by the hurt. At some point, it stops bothering you as much; you've grown numb to the way it stings, but it doesn't mean that there aren't days where you're pierced with a sudden and debilitating hollowness in your chest.

Here you are, half an adult but still a child, wondering if you know anything more than you did when you were 8.

You just want to go home, but you don't know where home is.

You look at the small pool of yellow acrylic paint that's been sitting on your palette for a while now. It feels so out of place among the other insipid tones, even though that has always been your intention - a burst of life amidst a sea of blues.

You don't think about anything in particular when your fingers pick up a brush and dab it in a generous amount of paint. It doesn't make much sense, but it feels right. You don't think about anything in particular when your hand smears the color on the cavas, on the figure, a startling stroke right in the center of her chest, contrasting all of the dulls and darkness surrounding.

Though, you do think of him afterward. Of him and daffodils and spring.

The rest of your friends are already present when you and Felix show up at Chan and Jess' shared apartment, holding boxes of pizzas and a case of beer.

It's a cute tradition that was started last year, when all of you promised to gather the final Friday of every month to have a cozy little dinner party among yourselves. It usually takes place at Chan's, since his apartment is bigger than the rest of yours, and because him and Jess are practically the parents of the group anyway.

The second you step into the living room, a chorus of groans erupts all around. Hyunjin and Jisung are the most vocal petulant babies, pouting from their seats, complaining that you two took too long and that they've been starving for hours.

You and Felix shrug off your jackets before delegating the tasks to the lot of them, since you were in charge of picking up the food for tonight. Minho and Seungmin grabbing plates and cups from the kitchen for Changbin and Jeongin to set on Chan's large coffee table.

You opt for a seat on the carpeted floor, next to the spot on the cream-colored couch where Minho left his phone, feeling more comfortable this way since the table is a little low for your liking. They come back a few minutes later, and you smile up at Minho when he reclaims his seat on the couch.

"Hi." He smiles back, smoothing a hand over your hair in greeting.

"Hi," you say. Even a touch so simple warms you up from the outside chill you were in mere minutes ago. No one else notices his lingering hand on you, or it's just such a you and Minho thing to be mildly affectionate with each other that the others don't care to comment on anymore.

You all fall into easy conversation soon after everyone starts digging in, chatting amongst yourselves as you always do. You and Hyunjin lament about your respective projects, reiterating the frustration that you've already expressed through your texts for the zillionth time. Chan and Jess nag Jeongin about introducing his girlfriend to the group, to which the younger one responds with an exaggerated groan as one would when their parents ask about grandchildren, though he does placate them by promising to bring her along the next time there's a party.

You don't care enough to tune into Minho's conversation with Changbin and Felix about the new gym they started going to. You do, however, catch Changbin's attempt to tease Minho. A playful scoff, followed by, "Minho lost his abs ages ago."

Your response is automatic and therefore, it doesn't warrant much thought from you before the words are tumbling out of your mouth. "No, he has abs. They're still there."

You don't recognize the weight of your words until you notice all chatter has halted, and you look up to find all eyes on you.

"How do you know that?" Jeongin is the one to voice everyone's collective thought, puzzled, a little surprised.

"Yeah, isn't Minho notoriously weird about that stuff?" Felix adds.

You blink in a daze, and you don't know if your face is reddening because of embarrassment but you sure hope that it isn't. The mouthful you're munching on gives you a reason to stall, your reputation of being a slow eater makes the excuse more believable when you don't answer right away.

As subtly as you can, you nudge Minho's leg with an elbow. He just laughs, though you're pretty certain he can tell that you're internally freaking out.

"I was walking her home from class a few weeks ago and we got caught in the rain. She let me come up to her apartment to change," he says calmly.

You remember that day. He was walking you from campus back to yours, so that part was true. But it didn't start raining until you were both sheltered in the comfort of your apartment, with him on top of you as he fucked you nice and slow on the couch. You didn't know when the rain stopped, but it must've been some time during your shower that you offered him to join with the innocent intention of cleaning yourselves up and saving water, only for him to end up on his knees with his face between your legs and his fingers buried deep inside of you. He'd made you come three times that afternoon, then took you out to udon afterward.

"And you just... changed in the middle of her living room or something?" Changbin asks, his eyes narrowing slightly.

Minho shrugs, completely nonchalant. "Yeah."

The silence in the room persists as you swallow down the bite. Their stare lingers on the pair of you, then they turn to look at each other like they're speaking a secret language that you're unfamiliar with. Why is it such a scandalous thing for you to see Minho without a shirt? You've seen your other guy friends shirtless numerous times before, when all of you are hanging out in someone's apartment on particularly hot summer days.

Though, they aren't wrong. The arrangement between the two of you muddles your memory, but you don't really remember seeing Minho flaunt his bare skin often before.

You're about to squeeze out a weak response to aid Minho's explanation, but your friends just start nodding along in acceptance.

"I guess that makes sense. If there's anyone who would see him naked, it'd be Y/N."

This definitely makes you blush. Minho laughs again.

"What?! I did not see him naked."

Well, look who's a liar now?

"Y/N, and whoever he's banging," Hyunjin supplies, which seriously doesn't help the flush on your cheeks at all.

"Why would it make sense that it was me?" you protest.

"Because you're his favorite." Jess is the one who answers, to which the rest of your friends all hum in agreement. The way they're reacting makes it seem as though it's just a fact of life that you're Minho's favorite, and that whatever boundary he lets you cross or whatever rule he breaks when it comes to you is simply a result of this fact.

Not once has it crossed your mind that everyone might have a favorite person in the group, but now that it's been said, you quickly conclude that Minho would be your favorite too (your secret arrangement notwithstanding.)

You glance up at him, seeking reassurance with a curious blink. "Am I?"

"You're alright," is what he tells you in lieu of a confirmation. "The least annoying one."

And you don't know if it's the way he speaks ever so gently when he looks at you or how his lips curl up in a knowing smile that sends a tingle of warmth down your spine. Or perhaps the culprit is the softness in his sharp eyes that makes you a little dizzy, makes a pair of butterflies go rampant at the pit of your stomach, as though they're prepared to soar when the ardor of spring begins to thaw the winter frost.

Chan laughs, "That's practically a declaration of love from Minho."

At one point, Hyunjin looks around and comments with a mouth stuffed full of pizza, "Wow. We are literally perfectly divided."

All eyes fall onto him, clearly no one is catching his drift.

Hyunjin swallows his food and washes it down with a big sip of beer before gesturing vaguely at the group, "All the singles are on the floor."

You look at the people on the couch while they stare back at you, Hyunjin, Seungmin, Changbin and Felix sitting comfortably on the fluffy rug.

"I'm single," Jisung says, pointing at himself. "Should I get on the floor?"

"No, you're not," Seungmin says flatly.

"What?"

"Didn't you get back together with your ex girlfriend?"

"What?" Jisung practically squeaks out. "Man, what are you talking about?"

"I live with you. We literally share a wall. I heard you last week. The whole two hours."

“You were home?!”

"My shoes were by the door. I had dishes in the sink. I went to the bathroom to pee several times."

Jisung gasps, growing redder and redder as more eyes start diverting their attention to him. He opens his mouth only to promptly close it as he thinks of what to say. Repeats the process a few times. "We didn't hear you. You never said anything," is what he settles on stuttering out. Then, "Why didn't you bring it up? Why do you have to air out my dirty laundry now?"

"It's more entertaining to embarrass you in front of everyone." Seungmin shrugs, and ignores Changbin's subsequent comment calling him a pervert. "And no wonder you didn't hear me. You were going at it like you were rabid."

"Wait," Jeongin says, "when did you even get back together?"

"We didn't. It's complicated! We're just… y'know…"

When Jisung trails off sheepishly with the bright blush still apparent on his cheeks, Minho cuts in, finishing his sentence bluntly, "Boning."

You send him a glare from where you're seated on the floor, to which he just gives you a lopsided grin and nudges you with his knee.

While everyone else is busy bombarding Jisung with questions on potentially getting back together with his ex, Minho quietly slithers down to the floor like a stealthy cat, squeezing himself into the space between you and Felix. Minho rests his arm behind you on the couch, leaving it stretched out comfortably on the cushions, just lightly touching your back. Usually, when you two are alone, he would have his arm wrapped around your shoulders so he could pull you close, until you're safely tucked into his side where you would remain on most of your evenings spent together. But for now, he leaves his arm where it grazes you only slightly as you sit among friends, with the exception of his hand reaching to play with your hair once in a while.

"Hey!" Hyunjin practically screeches, pointing at Minho when he notices. "Why did you get on the floor?"

"What?" Minho asks innocently. "You said the singles are on the floor."

"You're not single. You have a girlfriend."

"I don't have a girlfriend."

Hyunjin scoffs. "You have a sneaky link."

"Hmm, not the same as a girlfriend."

"Why can't you just tell us, man? There's gotta be something else you're hiding."

You stay quiet, still as a statue while they bicker back and forth, like the mere motion of your breathing could give your secret away. You don't doubt that Hyunjin has been hounding Minho about his new discovery ever since the night of Yeonjun's party, but Minho seems unfazed about it, evading Hyunjin's badgering with a calm composure that's distinct to no one else.

You excuse yourself to the bathroom, quickly shuffling away as if your absence at the table would help make things seem less suspicious for Minho. You splash some water on your face, wait for a while until it feels like an appropriate amount of time has passed for them to have already moved onto another topic. You are, quite literally, hiding from your own friends.

Moments later, you re-enter the room with gentle footsteps and a certain tension in your spine, but you soon grow relieved when you find that the conversation has somehow shifted to Seungmin and his on-again off-again not-girlfriend, about which he just seems kinda sad for a few seconds before he's telling everyone to fuck off and mind their own business, always quick to conceal any and all emotions. He's similar to you in that way, you suppose.

You sit back down next to Minho who's still on the floor, though you put a little distance between your bodies that wasn't previously there. You don't know if it's enough to be noticeable, but he does look at you for a brief moment before leaning a bit closer, asking softly so only you could hear, "Walk you home later?"

You embark on the familiar route from Chan and Jess' place back to yours. It's not that late, barely even 10PM on a Friday night, but the streets are almost deserted. Barely anyone tipsily roaming the streets with their friends in tow; just a few cars passing by every now and then. You relish in the peace and quiet, sighing softly to yourself as you walk in the crisp evening air.

Minho takes casual strides next to you, letting his hand brush against your hand for a while until his pinky finds its way around yours. The tranquility of the city is nice, but being with Minho is even nicer.

Just some of the stars have come out to play, though the way they gleam and glimmer is enough to make up for what they lack in numbers. It's easy to get lost tonight, when you're looking up at an infinite sky with little light and only Minho's pinky hooked around yours like an anchor to guide you back home.

In the grand scheme of things, you're just a speck of dust. You're young and confused - 23 is still a child in your mind - and most of all, you're insignificant. Not in a self-disparaging way. Maybe in the literal sense of the word would be more accurate.

You are insignificant, merely a face among billions of faces. In a crowd of hundreds, or maybe only dozens, you're not someone who would stand out and be picked. Sometimes, it's nice to blend right in and hide in plain sight; you don't particularly enjoy being under the spotlight anyway. But sometimes, it's lonely to be just a drop in the ocean. You could sink right to the bottom and no one would even notice.

Maybe that's why you enjoy being around Minho so much. He makes you feel safe, and seen, like you matter in the end. He makes you feel like if you were to disappear one day, there's a person out there who would go to the ends of the earth in search of you.

You hope that he sticks around, that he wants to be in your life for as long as you can have him. You're not sure what it is that makes you sick to your stomach at the mere thought of losing him; perhaps because you know you will never come across another one like Minho in your lifetime. There's nobody else that can make you feel the same way he does.

I don't want to lose you. You're the only good thing I have.

An intersection, two left turns, and your apartment building comes into view all too soon.

"Wanna come up?" you ask bashfully. The streetlights do a good job at masking your light flush.

"I can't tonight," he says, a little apologetic. "I'm going to my parents' house first thing in the morning."

"Oh." You're disappointed for no specific reason. Sure, you were practically glued to Minho's side for most of the evening, but you were also surrounded by the very friends who are unaware that you two have been sneaking around behind their backs. It's been about over a week since you hung out with him alone, which isn't that long ago by any means, but still. "For the weekend?"

"Yeah, just for the weekend."

There's a selfish urge, just a tiny one, to ask him to come for a while anyway, maybe only twenty minutes or so, but you swallow it down and wave it away. "Okay, have fun. Say hi to the cats for me."

"I'll send you pictures," he tells you. "They miss you, y'know."

You smile at that, laughing a little. "They've met me once."

Last fall, you and your friends all took a weekend trip to Minho's childhood home for his birthday. It was fun for you, though you're not sure how much his parents actually enjoyed it, considering they had to house and feed almost a dozen kids that weren't their own. You remember the cats, of course you do, and how Soonie took an immediate liking to you, how he mostly hovered around your personal space whenever you were in the house.

"No, seriously. My mom says Soonie meows your name once a day."

You throw him an eye roll, accompanied by a light punch to his shoulder.

"Goodnight, Min," you say. "Text me when you get home."

"Okay."

Even after that, the two of you still stay rooted to the spot, your pinkies interlocked. Minho's gaze doesn't leave your face, and for a moment there, it feels like most of the stars didn't show up because they all left to gather in his eyes.

"Can't go up if you don't let me,” you quip, glancing at your hands, knowing full well that you can easily retract your finger if you want to.

His eyes stay on you for just a moment longer. "Let me kiss you," he asks softly, releasing your pinky only to take your hand in his, tugging you closer until you’re all up in each other's personal space.

You blink at him, your heart caught somewhere in your throat. You're close enough that you can feel the warmth radiating off his body. "Min…" you murmur but you don't actually know what you want to tell him, so the nickname hangs like an idle lantern in the bubble of space between your faces.

"Just a goodnight kiss."

"Friends don't kiss," you say meekly, reminiscent of your conversation over a week ago.

"Friends don't have sex either," he repeats.

"But we’re not having sex."

"You asked me to come upstairs. What do you think we would've done?"

And he's right. If he had agreed to come up, then you would probably be pressed against the door right now, with his hands trailing down your body, removing every article of clothing they find, his lips kissing every exposed patch of skin along the way.

Minho would've been kissing you regardless - anywhere and everywhere, and you wouldn't have had any qualms about it like you do right now, even though you want to kiss him too.

"Maybe I wanted you to come up to make you peel tangerines for me while we watch a movie."

He says nothing to that, only grins amusedly and leans in to nudge his nose against yours. It's so cute that you can't help but mirror the quirk of his lips. You're sure that no one else gets to see this version of him - the one that boops you like an overly affectionate cat and smiles like you're his favorite person not just in your little group, but in the whole wide world.

"I haven't kissed you all week," he murmurs, his voice so gentle in the quietude that surrounds you. "You were right there but I couldn't kiss you all night."

You lose yourself in his brown eyes, the same eyes that hold nothing but sincerity and fondness for you. The stars here are brighter than the ones overhead.

"Let me kiss you," Minho says, "please?"

You cave. Of course you do.

The first glide of his lips over yours has you weak in the knees. Something sinks in as he kisses you deeply. Under the streetlights, not surrounded by your familiar four walls like a long lost secret but out in the open where anyone can see, even though there's not a single soul around.

Tears well up behind your eyelids the same way they did that morning you woke up next to him for the first time. You don't know what it is, never felt this way around anyone except for him. It's akin to the feeling of finally coming home after being away for a long time, or at least that's what you think that's how it would feel.

You don't want to be caged in by the walls of your own making. You want to be seen, and you want to be seen by him. You're the remnants of snow and ice stuck between cracks in the sidewalk, and he is warmth. You're a mosaic of a daffodil garden caught in an endless winter, and he is spring. Minho is the brief but wonderful moment when cherry blossoms have yet to fall from their branches, but green leaves are already growing impatiently, resulting in the beautiful coexistence of pinks and greens if only just for a few days.

You let him kiss you until you're both out of breath, let him wrap his strong arms around your body and hold you like he could mend all of your broken pieces. Maybe he could. Maybe you'd like him to make you whole again.

When Minho pulls away, he doesn't stray very far. He puts enough distance between your faces so you can catch your breath. But even then, you have a hard time getting air back into your lungs. He's looking at you like he would pick the moon for you if you asked, like moving mountains is no more difficult than peeling tangerines for you whenever you get a craving.

The streetlights are dim, but the stars in his eyes are bright enough to tell you something that his words don't.

It hits you all at once, in a moment where even the wind is still, as if it's been reduced to a mere spectator, watching the two of you with bated breath on the sidelines. The tipping point can be something as simple as him asking - almost pleading - to kiss you goodnight with no ulterior motive, no other intention than because he wants to. As though it would kill him if he had to go another minute without kissing you.

You realize why he's the yellow to your sea of blues, why you're so happy every time you look at the bracelet on your wrist. You realize why you feel so safe around him, why he makes you experience emotions that no one else can. You realize why you don’t like hearing about Hana, or any other person in the same sentence as his name with the implication that he could be romantically involved with them.

You realize why you kissed him for the first time all those months ago, and it wasn't because you were sad and he just happened to be there and let you cry on his shoulder. The times that your friends would tell you how you and Minho would be perfect together - you wanted it to be true. You knew it was true - that he was someone you could love, the only person who's worth opening up to. You kissed him because you wanted to love him. You realize why it made you soar when he kissed you back, because you wanted him to love you too.

You realize why the thought of losing this friendship terrifies you. You realize why you asked him to stay that night after the party and the club, even though you had never allowed him to sleep over before. You realize why the other week you let him only kiss you and nothing else, and you realize why your heart is hammering in your chest this very second, why your knees are weak, why you can't really breathe here in the middle of an empty street under a moonless sky, just because he's looking at you as if it's not the sun that the earth revolves around but rather, it's a girl who has never learned how to say what she means.

You're good at leaving things alone; it's a skill that you've unintentionally mastered over the years. Nothing has to change if you let it remain the same. And yet, the one exception always seems to be Minho, and you're a mirror of yourself when you're with him. You like the version of you that only he's able to bring out, and he does it effortlessly every time. He pulls happiness out of you so easily that it's hard to ignore what you feel for him, hard to convince yourself that what you harbor for him is still only platonic affection.

It comes bubbling up to the surface without your permission. It strikes you the same way lightning splits open the whole sky on a cloudless night, abrupt and unmistakeable. Love isn't something that you've ever come close to, and you have always been an unbeliever when people answer "You just know," in response to "How do you know when it is love?"

Though as you stand right here, right now, you think maybe this is what love is supposed to look like, personified with starry eyes and shallow dimples when he smiles.

Before he leaves, Minho presses another sweet kiss to your cheek. You're still dazed by the dawning, overwhelmed by the recognition that you can only mutter a stupid "Bye," when he bids you good night.

As you watch him go, there's something else you realize, almost tragically, that you've always been a ruiner. You run away the moment shit starts getting too real, even if it means letting beautiful things slip through your fingers like running water.

Love just isn't something you've ever learned to hold.

all rights reserved © withleeknow. reposting, translating and/or modifying is not permitted by any means. [posted 15.04.2024]

[eeunoia]

ENHYPEN Imagines

lacuna | pjs.

pairings: park jongseong x reader

synopsis: right after the disappearance of your bestfriend, you felt a big part of you missing. jay park, the rich school bad boy suddenly steps in to fill that gap. you let yourself fall into his trap, without knowing that his group of friends were the reason of your misery.

word count: 4.9k

warnings: yandere themes, mention of kidnapping, enhypen being obsessed, obsessive love, dark love and abuse of power & money. (let me know if i missed some)

note: this is jay’s entry for our yandere mini series. next part that will be posted is probably limerence (heeseung’s) part two. anyway, i hope you enjoy this one. replies and reblogs are highly encouraged. please please please! thank you so much, ily and stay safe!

fic moodboard › here

eeunoia 2024 © all rights reserved.

“Where’s Mom and Dad?” Jay asks while walking down the stairs. Some of their family helpers awaits him by the end of their long grand staircase.

“They left for a business trip, young master.” their head maid was the one who answered him. Jay sighs in dismay and gradually headed towards the main door of their mansion.

“Young master, how about breakfast?”

He rolled his eyes as his driver almost stumble to catch up on his pace. “I don’t want to eat all alone.” he spat coldly then heads to his service car without saying another word.

His drive towards their school is quiet. He tried to look out to the car’s window to divert his attention and ease his upset mood. This isn’t a great way to start his week. If he lets this affect him too much, his whole week is already ruined.

As their car parks right at the vacant slot on their school’s parking lot, his phone rang. He picks it up without checking who it was.

“What?”

“Where you at, dude? We’re here by the field.” it was one of his friends, Jake.

He sighs, “I just arrived the school. I’ll be there in five.” he lazily says.

“Okay, hurry up!” and he ended the call.

Jay rolls his eyes and his driver opens the car door for him. He went out and hangs one of his bag’s strap to his shoulder before walking to the direction of the field. He was planning to stop by the locker’s but since his friends demands him to go meet them, he have no other choice.

If people will be asked to describe Park Jongseong—also known as Jay, they will surely say that he probably have everything. Money, good looks, talent and influence. But that’s just what people see. They’re actually right. He’s handsome and the only heir to his parents' successful travel agency that have a lot of branches around the world.

There’s only one problem. For some reasons, despite having all these things and powers, Jay seems to feel empty. Like there’s a part of him that is missing that no other things can fulfill.

He already found a solution for that problem tho... And he will do everything in order to have it— more like her.

“Took you long enough.” Sunghoon stated as he walk closer to where they’re sat. Heeseung’s by the corner, eyes fixated at his phone screen. Jake’s in front of them and Jungwon’s beside him.

“What’s so important that we’re gathering here early in the morning?” he asks lazily then yawned. Sunoo rolls his eyes before focusing on Jake once again.

“Sunghoon will be executing our plan next week.” Jake announced that instantly drains Jay’s sleepiness. His senses starting to be more active as his friend walk them through the whole plan once again. Just to make sure everything will go smoothly.

“Oh yeah? Do you need help with anything?” Jay glances to Sunghoon’s side and he saw his friend’s relaxed look on his face.

He shakes his head, “Everything’s ready.”

He nods his head and continued listening to what Jake's saying. His friends are all quiet and just made sure they’re taking notes of the things he was asking to check before next week.

“There you are!” their heads snapped at the side when one voice interrupts. Jay’s brows raised at the same time at your familiar pretty face as you slightly pants after making at the bench where they’re gathered.

You sent Jay glares before glancing to the two boys standing near you, “I’m so sorry to interrupt you, Jake and Jungwon.” palms resting at your hips while panting to catch your breath.

“It’s fine, y/n. What’s up?” Jake smiles warmly.

You raised your hand and directed your pointer finger towards Jay.

“Him. I need him to come with me.” your words rings through Jay’s mind, almost making him space out completely. Some of his friends snickers chuckle secretly at how funny his reaction was.

“Jay?” Jake astounded tone made you glance at his direction. His eyes big and confused.

“He has detention and he skipped it yesterday.” you announced that made Yang Jungwon— the student council president sigh in disbelief.

Jay shrugs his shoulders off and eyed you with a small grin on his face. Your glares turned sharper as you think of many ways to end him today. He’s seriously giving you a hard time. You joined the student council for the extra points and stress is what you’re getting lately because of him.

“All right, he’s all yours.” Jungwon says and even laid his hand to the air, indicating that he’s letting you take his friend.

Jay snorted and stood up voluntarily. A playful grin plays through his sexy thin lips, “You heard the man. I’m all yours.” and he even sent you a wink.

Your cheeks blushed instantly, but you don’t make it too obvious. Instead of thinking about it too much, you swat his arm then drag him to your building. He chuckles, totally unbothered and didn’t even complained about it.

“Just admit it, y/n. You like me, don’t you?” his taunting tone made you halt your steps, ears turning red.

“Do you think I’m crazy? I don’t like you!” you hissed at him.

His smirk fell that caught you off-guard. Your face turned pale when you saw a glimpse of his eyes cold while staring at you. It was very odd. Jay’s always mischievous and always the one teasing you. He’s never been like this.

“You sure about that?” his serious tone sent direct chills to your spine, making you nervous.

“H-Huh? What’s with you...” you stuttered.

He stared at you silently for a bit more before he suddenly burst out laughing, making you furrow your brows. You stayed silent, not saying anything. You’re stunned and confuse to what’s happening.

“Did I scare you?” he continued laughing, even folding while holding his stomach that seems to start hurting from laughing so much.

Your face turned red out of anger and your hand quickly hit him by his arm. He groaned and caress it gently, eyes shooting glares at you.

“You’ve been hitting me too much lately.” he commented that you tried to ignore and started walking ahead of him.

Jay chuckles again and tried to catch up which you responded by acting like as if he’s not there. His grin grew wider at how you’re acting. He reaches for your arm and you tries to shove it off. He fails to grab you on the first two tries, then the third one his grip is tight.

“What?” tone sounding a bit annoyed.

“I thought you’re taking me to detention?”

“Your detention is later after class. I fetch you to help me grab our textbooks at the faculty room.” you cannot keep your stares that made him grin even more.

“Do I make you nervous?” he asks.

You pursed your lips and looked at him with a flashing guilt in your eyes. He suppress himself from laughing loud to prevent making you feel more embarrassed. He sighs and licks his lips.

“Let’s go, I’ll ignore it for you.” and he slide both of his hands inside his trouser’s pocket before walking towards the direction of the faculty.

Your gaze bore onto the back of his head, mind slowly spacing out. People around you often says how you two can never get along with each other. It is true. Most of the times, you two are arguing. But what other people doesn't know is that you secretly likes the bad boy, Park Jongseong.

“Saw you with Jay a while ago.” you sighed and looks at (friend name) smiling meaningfully at you.

“Don’t even start...”

She laughed, “Come on! I seriously think he likes you back. Why not confess?”

She rests her back at the railings of the corridor while you stand facing it, watching the field beneath you filled with students either playing soccer or trying to kill time until their next classes.

“It’s not that easy.” that’s true. Jay live through the days knowing that always you despise him. With how stingy you act around him, he probably have no clue. He will surely tease you to death once he knew his feelings for you. That’s honestly the last thing you wanted.

“Hmm, I know.” and your friend let out a heavy sigh.

This time, you smirked and raised an eyebrow at her.

“You basically indirectly confessed to Park Sunghoon. Almost everyone in the school knows about your feelings.”

She lets out a strained sigh and threw her head back to stare at the blue clear sky. Her pretty face is so admirable, something you can’t just miss if walking pass by her. Just like what you said, its not really a secret that she likes ‘thee’ Park Sunghoon. He’s one of Jay’s good friends and very popular with the girls as well.

“Yes. That’s so awkward.”

You stared right at her, “Why do you like Sunghoon so much?”

She glances at you, “Hey, what do you mean by that?” and she push your shoulder jokingly.

You made face, “It's just Park Sunghoon is so cold. He seems so mysterious.”

She chuckles, agreeing.

“And mysterious guys often have many secrets. You never really know.” its not that you’re being a bad friend of trying to be a kill joy. This is just you looking out for your friend, your best friend.

“That’s what I love about him.” she says bluntly, like a natural response.

It made you roll your eyes and act disgusted by it. She fights back with rolling her eyes as well that made you both giggling. Your vacant hours are perfectly spent talking about nonsense stuff, jumping from one topic to another.

Everything’s going smoothly, not until one morning. You woke up into the noise of your phone continuously ringing. When you stir from your sleep, leaving your dreamland completely, and glances at the wall clock. It’s just 4 am in the morning.

“Hello?” you answered your phone half-asleep, still dozing off a bit.

The muffled cries from the other line was like a slap that strips away the sleepiness. You momentarily pulls your phone away and checked the caller’s id. Seeing your friend’s mother’s contact instantly made you sat up from your bed.

“Auntie? What’s wrong?” you asked worriedly and reaches for the lamp beside the bed.

“Y/n...” she starts. Her heavy breaths and nonstop sniffing made you aware of how she’s crying so hard. Her strained voice is very obvious as well.

“(Friend name) is missing.” the line was clear and her words, despite being a little off, were clear. What doesn’t register to your system is what she’s trying to say.

“What do you mean missing? Hold on, Auntie.” you stood up and quickly grabbed your jacket to keep yourself from freezing then hurriedly head out.

“She didn’t come home last night! And I called your mom to check if she’s there, she said she didn’t came to your place.”

Your brows narrowed down and you saw your Mother on the phone, talking to somebody. When her eyes caught you, she signalled that she’s talking to someone important.

“Ah yes, she said her daughter didn’t come home last night... Yes, officer.”

“Mom is calling the police, Auntie. We’re going there, okay? Please calm down. I’m sure she’s all right. She probably just went somewhere and forgot to inform us.” you tried to console her while your head started to unconsciously list down places that you can go to.

After the calls to some of your Mom’s friends and the police, the two of you headed to her home to comfort her. A police car was already parked outside of the house and one officer is by the door, talking to your friend’s Mom.

Her tear stained eyes darted at you and quickly, you embraced her.

“Shh, Auntie. It’s going to be okay.” you whispered as your Mom continued talking to the officer because your friend's Mom are currently at her best state to talk.

“I’m so scared, y/n! What if she’s in trouble?” she cries hard on your shoulder that breaks your heart.

You tried to act strong in order not to make her feel down even more. She trembles in between your hug and you caress her back to somehow make her feel better.

“I'm sure she will show up. We will find her.”

Only, you didn’t. It’s been a whole week ever since your friend disappeared. Day by day its getting worst for her Mom and for you. She’s your best friend. You cherish her and she’s like a sister already. Not having her around made you feel so empty.

“Hey,” your head lifts when someone approaches your table.

It was Jay.

Usually he will have his mischievous grin, but not now. He have this soft, worried gaze while looking on you. He kept his stares, watching closely as you try so hard to pull a smile for him.

“Hi.” you greeted shortly.

He licked his lips, “I’m so sorry about (friend name).” he says that you answered with a nod.

He gestures the vacant chair beside you, asking if he can sit down and accompany you. Normally, you would decline and curse at him but a part of you wanted his presence so you nodded. He sat down quietly, eyes still darted at you.

“Any updates?” he asks.

Your eyes dropped at the stacks of missing posters in front of you, sitting at the table. A beautiful smiling picture of (friend name) printed on it and a big red ‘MISSING’ below.

“No. The police only have one person as their witness and its totally not helping.” your tone sounding so down, hopeless.

Jay sighs and rested his large hands on your back to caress it. Your eyes instantly waters, the tears you’ve been holding back starting to show. With lips slightly shaking you glanced back at him.

“J-Jay, I’m scared...” you admit, first time showing him a vulnerable side.

He was speechless, but you can see through his eyes that he’s so worried for you. He’s been noticing how you’ve been neglecting yourself ever since your friend disappeared. And its making him so sad.

“I’m so worried for her. What if something bad happened to h-her?” your voice cracks and eyes brimming with tears.

Jay was quick to console you.

“Hey,” he whispered with his softest tone then cupped your face, making you face him. “We will find her, okay?” those familiar words are the same ones you’ve been repeating to your friend's mom ever since she disappeared. Constantly repeating it to convince her and also to convince yourself.

Jay pulled your body closer to him, caging you into a tight, warm hug. Something you really needed at the moment. You cannot put into words how grateful you are that he’s there for you.

Ever since your friend vanished, things started to get messy. She’s been your comfort person and with her missing, its like you’re losing your mind.

You felt Jay’s lips on your forehead as he whispered comforting words.

“We’ll find her?” Jay stares right to his reflection at the bathroom’s mirror. He scoffs to himself, muttering low curses while washing his hand.

“How can we find someone who is not even really missing?” he mumbles and his gaze lifts as one of the bathroom stalls opened, revealing one of his close friends.

“Jay, man.” Jake and walks near the sinks to wash his own hand.

“You need to stop talking to yourself. People will think you’re crazy.” he grins teasingly at Jay and he just frowns.

Another stall opens and Sunghoon walks out from it, eyeing their direction.

“He is really crazy, tho?” he commented that earned a bark of laughter from Jake.

Jay clicked his tongue, “That’s big words from somebody who kidnaps a girl because he likes her so much?”

Sunghoon seems unbothered about his statement. Not just because it was true, but because he thinks its nonsense to argue with it. He just shrugged it off and smirked at his friend.

“You’re going to do it soon too, tho?” and starts washing his hands as well.

“Yeah, Sunghoon’s right.” Jake commented.

Jay whips his head and diverted his attention to his other friend. “Actually, you’re the crazier one.”

Sunghoon’s grin grew wider and just listens to his friends that are starting to bicker like little children. Jake complains, totally disagreeing about what Jay said.

“What? No, I’m not!”

Jay scoffed, “Really? Is it not crazy to put his girl inside a psych ward just because he learned that she’s leaving him?”

Sunghoon whistles, “I have to agree on that one, dude.”

Jake glances at Sunghoon, a hint of betrayal flashes through his eyes.

“For the record,” he starts and they look at him with eyebrows raising while waiting for his defence. Jake licks his lips as he tries to come up with a good comeback to what Jay fired at him.

“Fine!” he hissed, “And so what if I put her in ward? At least I’m sure she won’t be able to leave me, even if she wants to.” the smug smirk on his face is wide.

“Should I put mine in the ward too? Do you have a vacant room?” Sunghoon chuckles while asking that question to Jake.

“Yeah, we have vacant room for you as well.”

Jay laughed and watch how Sunghoon swat Jake’s arm. They soon decided to walk back to class. His eyes darted at your direction right away and Jay’s heart cracked at the sight of your sad face.

After class, Jay offered to help you with the missing posters and you’re very thankful for him. Their group of friends has been doing a lot and you couldn’t be more greatful. As far as you remember, none of them are personally close to you or your friend, but still with big hearts they offered to help.

While heading back to the building to get your things, your eyes unconsciously darted at one of the bulletin boards. From a distance, multiple papers are pinned to it. But one stands out the most, at least for you.

Your eyes trailed over to the tall figure that stands in front of it, staring right at the missing posters of your friend that you’ve placed their a few days ago.

The boy is very familiar to you. His fair complexion, uniform looking so neat and face looking so blank. You slowly head his direction and stood a few feet away.

“Terrifying isn’t it?” you said that caught his attention. From the corner of your eyes, you saw that he whips his head to the side and look at you.

“Do they have a lead?” he asks, almost sounding like a monotone.

That’s the first time you and him talked. Being in the same school together for years, this was the first interaction.

“Yeah, they said someone saw her being taken on her way home.” you answered.

An emotion flickers through his eyes for a split second, but it was impossible to tell what it was. He kept his blank face, eyes icy cold.

“I hope she will be found soon.” he stated.

His words are nice. It's the words you wanted to hear from most of them and you’ve heard that a lot of times already. But for some reasons, Sunghoon’s words felt empty. It slightly caught your attention. Then you realized that he’s always like that. Quiet and reserved. He’s not called the ice prince just for nothing. And so, you tried to just shrug it off and thanked him silently.

He was about to leave when you grabbed his hand. He turns his head to look at you and it made you feel on edge. His eyes are so intimidating.

“Here, in case you see her.” and you handed him a poster.

It maybe a bit stupid knowing he probably have a copy already since its been distributed to the whole school. He accepted it without any word then left. Your eyes lingers to him and watch how he walks away.

A small smile spreads across your face. “Come back now, (friend name). I can’t wait to tell you about how Sunghoon seem to worry for you.”

“So what did the detective said? Any updates?” your hand halts from holding your chopsticks because of Jay’s question.

It’s been a month ever since your friend disappeared and you grew closer with Jay. All the time, he was there to support you and comfort you.

“What?” you asked, glancing at him whose now enjoying his food. He slurps over his soup before throwing you a short glance.

“About that new detective (friend name)’s mom hired.” he repeated himself.

You stared at him without saying any word. That same emotion that you’ve been pushing at the back of your mind for weeks now. Jay’s been very nice ever since the disappearance of your friend and he fills the absence for the mean time, making sure you aren’t being too hard on yourself.

But it may sound nonsense, lately you’ve been noticing odd behavior from his friend group. Or you can say you’re sensing this weird vibe from them.

It may appear because they’re a different league that’s why, and that’s whay you try to convince yourself with. But something really doesn’t sit right for you.

Example for that is this...

How did Jay even knew about that detective your friend’s Mom secretly hired recently?

“Why are you looking at me like I’ve killed someone?” Jay chuckles awkwardly while placing an opened bottle of water in front of you.

“How did you even knew about it?” your tone sounded really curious that caught him off-guard.

He curses inside his mind, quickly thinking of a good escape to this mistake. Despite the slight panic, he tried hard to compose himself in order not to be too suspicious..

He scoffed, “What do you mean how did I know? Of course, through you.” he kept his stares to your eyes.

It made your brows narrowed, head tilting over to the side.

“Me? I told you about it?” you sound unsure about it, recalling and backtracking any past events where you might’ve mentioned it to him.

“Yes, baby.” he laughs, relieved that it shaken up the tension a bit. “What’s up with you? Seems like you are really stressing yourself too much.”

You stayed silent for a while before smiling.

“I guess you’re right. It might have slipped off my mind.”

He nods and slides a new side dish near you, “You should eat more.” he diverted the topic smoothly.

The tension dissipate and just like normally, you two went on your day. He kept talking about this place he’s been with his parents and how much he wanted to take you there this weekend to help you relax a bit. You tried so hard to listen, dismissing that negative thought off of your mind.

But it didn’t. Instead, it made you more observant over his group of friends. Giving meanings to every normal or little things they do.

“I’m on my way home now.” you said through the phone while going out from the bookstore.

Jay’s on the other line, calling to check on you after hanging out with his friends. According to him, practice ended earlier so they decided to go have fun.

“All right. I’m also near my house. Call me once you’re home?” he says softly.

“Hmm, take care.” you hummed.

“You too baby, i love you.”

Your heart races, mixed of emotions occupies you. These days, after being suspicious of him, your feeling starts to get shaken a bit. It made you realize how much you still don’t know about Jay.

After spending a lot of times together, you still barely know him. Except for the fact that he’s Park Jongseong, the rich bad boy from your school who happens to have feelings for you all this time.

“Y/n?” he calls you lightly that snaps you back to reality.

“Y-Yeah?”

“I said I love you.”

You gulped, “I l-love you too.”

The other line went silent for a while before you heard Jay’s gentle hum. He always does that whenever he’s satisfied hearing you say those words to him.

Before its also felt so good whenever you say it to him. You meant it with all your heart, but right now, you aren’t sure anymode. You still love him, after all you’ve been interested to him for a long time. It’s just, a mix of fear envelops those feelings.

Your eyes then caught the person you’ve been waiting for hours already.

Park Sunghoon.

“I’ll call you later, Jay.”

“Okay, stay safe.” he says in a low tone and ended the call.

Today, you made a bold decision to tail Park Sunghoon. He’s on your top list of suspicious people that are potentially involve to your friend’s disappearance.

He walks towards the bus stop and you can tell from the way his shoulder’s hanging low, he’s dead tired. Probably because of practice and hanging out with his friends.

You tried not to be too suspicious, making sure your presence is not noticeable. But Sunghoon usually don’t care about his surroundings. He just mind his own business and go on with his life. If he’s not involve or any of people he’s close with, he does not care.

As you approach him closer, you noticed him pulling out something from his pocket. At first, its so hard to tell what it is. But once you get a clear view, your stomach drops and heart felt like it stopped beating. Head empty as your feet moves on its own.

“W-Why do you have that?” you couldn’t help but to stutter and fear consumed you when he whips his head at your direction.

Sunghoon’s face remained emotionless. He doesn’t even look guilty at all or caught off-guard by your presence. It was like he was expecting it, like he knew you were there, following him.

“This is mine.” were his words.

Your eyes remained looking at him with such horror, tears brimming. With trembling lips you shake your head.

“N-No... that’s (friend name)’s! I gave it to her! My granda made that.”

You can’t be wrong. It’s impossible to have the exact same handkerchief. Your granda personally made that for you and your friend.

He took a step closer that made you instantly step back in fear. You roamed your eyes around and her heart fell at the sight of the bus stop being totally isolated. It is already a bit late and so there are a few people here. It's just the two of you.

The thought of being here with the possible reason why (friend name) went missing scared you to death.

“W-What did you do to her?” your tone sounded so accusing as your fist balls to prevent it from shaking. With clenched jaw, you gather all the courage to look over his deadpanned face.

He was just caught red handed but he seemed unbothered at all. He approached and caught (bestfriend’s name) off guard. She hit him with her bag and he was stunned for a moment.

You just caught him red handed, but he seemed so unbothered. He took a step closer that caught you off-guard and made you hit him with your bag. Something got caught with his gym bag and when you look down, your favorite keychain lays beneath his feet.

“Where is y/n?! Give her back!” you tried screaming through your lungs, hoping that someone may hear and help you.

And someone did. That person slowly and quietly looms closer, taking advantage of your full attention being on Sunghoon to take action.

Sunghoon turned his head towards you and you can’t describe what you felt when you met his cold dark eyes, “You will never find her, no one will.” and with that, he advanced making you scream in fear.

“Quiet, baby.” from your back, an arm hold you still, tugging your body closer to theirs. His free hand then went towards your face to cover you with a cloth, that slowly took your consciousness away.

Even before you can react and try freeing yourself, Jay’s familiar face came into your view.

“Shh, its all right. I’m here.” his whispers are muffled as everything slowly became black.

Sunghoon slid his hands inside his pockets while watching Jay fixed his hold on you. Eventually, a familiar black SUV parked near where they’re at then one of Jay’s men went outside to assist him.

He carries your unconscious body easily then carefully placed it inside the SUV. Sunghoon was just there, silently watching. His eyes roams around to check if there’s anybody to witness what they’re doing.

“Perfect.” Jay whispers and pants with a smile.

He closes the door to their car and glances at Hoon, still standing by the bus stop. He nods his head with a thumbs up that his friend only nonchalantly responded with a nod.

After Jay went inside the car and drove off along with you. Sunghoon trudges towards the bench when he stepped on something. He looked down and saw your keychain that fell off a while ago.

He sighs and picked it up. He stared at it for a while and realized that (friend name) had the exact same keychain. A small smile appears across his face, remembering you. His head perks up after hearing the arrival of the bus and as he walks towards it, he unconsciously slides the keychain inside his pocket.

permanent tag-list:

@rubyanne @map-of-border @hwangjangmi @13tter @candewlsy @simpforniki @classicroyalty @hime98 @moonsclassyslore @ddeonubaby @yeoungie @acciomylove @mymeloem19 @jvngw0n @dreamjerky @minamoons @clar-iii @herasalvatore @nyfwyeonjun @rcveribin @yizhoutv @one16core @soobin-chois @kyutiepeachy @chareadingpurposes @hwalllllllelujah @solelyenha @90sni-ki @nourhan-8 @nikipedia07 @yangbreads @drunkjazed @axartia @all4haru @sta-rie @purplepuppychild @iceeee @wtfhyuck @tobiosbbyghorl @nikililmj @ayayiiie @aeyeree @heeseung-min @in-somnias-world @psh-pjh @hveanlyanqelic @woocury

[ittsybittsybunny]

ATLA Live Action Series Review:

The Good

Aesthetically this show felt right. Sure sometimes the outfits didn't quite feel lived in, but I always felt like I was watching a fantasy world with decent effects and interesting design. Also, I really enjoyed the sets!

Bending: Yes some of the fights feel very quick, but the bending looks cool. It is certainly better than 10 benders lifting one big rock. I can honestly say the opening bending fight scene gave me so much hope for this show.

Kyoshi Warriors: I loved seeing them in live action, and I thought Suki's performance was great!

Omashu: I think the mashup of the mechanist made sense since that is an important character overall and I would hate to see him cut. However, both Jet & the secret tunnels felt sloppily thrown in.

Northern Water Tribe: I really loved the way it looked, and appreciated the two episodes we spent here. I think Yue gained more agency in this interpretation, and why shouldn't the moon spirit be a waterbender. Also, episode seven felt the most in tune with the original show's spirit.

Zuko: I think he was one of the most fleshed-out and best parts of the show! Dallas Liu really captured Zuko's spirit, and the scene between him and Aang in episode 6 was wonderful!

Soundtrack: Hearing the original soundtrack bits is always great, and when I first heard the ending music I was so excited.

Is the show perfect, no - but I wouldn't mind a season 2.

The Bad

Pacing: Turning 20 episodes into 8 was bound to lead to some cuts...but oftentimes times things felt too quick or disjointed. I think there were editing problems contributing to this for sure, but sometimes things skipped around too much without a clear purpose as to why. Also, why bring in plots from later seasons when you barely have enough time already?

Writing: This show definitely suffered from exposition dumping, though it did get better as time went on. I think the biggest example of this is actually opening in the past rather than the present. We do not get to learn along with Aang that the world has changed, instead, we get to learn that 100 years have passed....which doesn't hold the same tension or worldbuilding.

Clunky Dialogue: Along with exposition, clunky dialogue is another example of bad writing. I think sometimes I felt like the acting was kind of meh in the beginning, but then over time I began to realize it had far more to do with the lines characters were trying to deliver. The actors themselves are not bad, just cursed with awkward writing and lines that feel out of touch with the setting they're in.

Main Trio: I don't entirely know that I believe Katara, Sokka, and Aang are friends as opposed to 3 people stuck together to save the world. Aang feels a little too somber for a young kid running away from his responsibilities, Sokka is protective, but not exactly the heart of the team, and Katara is sort of just there until the last two episodes. Where is her struggle, her desire to learn so strong she steals from pirates? Also, while Gordon Cormier did a great job, Aang does zero waterbending on his own, is overly serious, and tells Katara not to fight. Where is his desperation to protect his friends? It feels like they all lost emotional depth.

Tension: Bringing Ozai, Azula, and Zhao out in the beginning immediately causes us to lose the realization there is an even bigger bad. Part of why Ozai is so terrifying is he is a primarily silent villain until the third season when we finally see the face of the "big bad evil guy" behind it all. Yes, they add to Zuko's backstory, but again, they are revealing the villains too early. Azula is the antagonist of season 2 and one of my favorite characters, so I hope they do more with her in the future. Finally, Zhao is supposed to be an example of the uncontrollable nature of fire unrestrained, instead, he comes off as vaguely threatening with the supposed true power being Azula.

Characterization: While all characters are bound to lose something in a shorter show, it still felt like certain characters were more mutilated than others. I am sure there are 100 different opinions on who, but I think the biggest victim was Katara.

Katara: Katara manages to go from a complete novice to a bending master in what feels like a matter of days. The journey feels short, and that makes the results feel largely unearned. Katara is one of the strongest personalities in the show, determined, kind, and fiery. In many ways, she is the unpredictability of water - equally dangerous as it is necessary to live. She is the child of a war who lost her mother, forced to grow up too soon, and even raised her older brother. Yes, Katara often gets stereotyped as the mom friend, but overall she feels underutilized in this show. We really don't see enough of her journey until the very end.

Iroh: Iroh was always comedic but most importantly wise. Even when Zuko is trying to give himself advice, he mimics Iroh. Instead, he seems to be used more as comedic relief without the underlying experience. He just doesn't feel right. Also, he kills Zhao instead of Zhao getting himself killed - which is less about Iroh and more about the writing than anything.

Ozai is weirdly a little too nice. Yes, he burned Zuko and pits his kids against each other, but he feels toned down in a show claiming to be more mature than the original cartoon.

Azula is perhaps more realistically worried about losing her status as the golden child, but she is also missing the cruelty she and her father share. I understand worrying about making your character cartoonishly evil, but the Fire Nation is currently a deeply nationalistic empire trying to control the world. Where is the deep-seated belief that they are better than other people, not just trying to bring balance to the world? There is a line between creating complexity and toning down the very real evil inherent in this plan.

Roku: I can only say what the fuck was that. He was barely there, and not the serious master to Aang's youthful exuberance.

The Ugly

Show, Don't Tell: The show's single biggest issue seems to be speeding through story parts by simply stating things. Instead of allowing the audience to discover, trusting that we are smart enough to understand, let's just blatantly say things like Zuko is the only reason the 41st division is alive to their faces. Even though in the context of the story Ozai literally already said that.... it's the division, the division for Zuko, Zuko's division.

Thematic Misunderstandings: I think this show makes several minor changes with major implications, such as airbenders actively fighting the firebenders, when airbenders are known for their pacifist nature and the lie of an Airbender fighting force is actively propaganda. Similarly, Aang very quickly accepts his role as the avatar and doesn't even run away in the beginning. Without this conflict between his desire to be a carefree child and the fact that the world needs him - the show loses a key aspect of Aang's character. Also, the obsession with downplaying the avatar state as something dangerous feels like a disservice to the tradition, connection, and strength of the avatar, which can be permanently destroyed as the trade-off for that kind of power. It's dangerous for the balance of the entire world, not just because it's powerful!

The Agni Kai: Zuko's fight against his father is one of the defining moments of Ozai's cruelty, not just because he is willing to fight his child, but because Zuko tried to do everything right. Zuko shows deference to his father, apologizes, and most importantly refuses to fight! The determination not to upset his father and still be grievously injured and banished is a hugely important theme for the fire nation and Zuko's life as a whole. He tries to do everything he is supposed to and only regains his father's acceptance after he "kills" Aang. Zuko's struggle between moral vs. social right and wrong in contrast to his family is hugely important to his character.

-----

TLDR: ATLA was a fantastical animated television show that was never afraid to show character development and flaws. When you turn 20 episodes into 8, you are bound to lose something. You hollowed out the middle, leaving the shell of important moments and events without ever wondering if all the times in between formed the true spirit of the show.

Rating: 6.5/10 It's perfectly fine and worth a watch. Not a disaster, but certainly falls flat of the original.

[astronomodome]

In terms of c!martyn lore in rats 2 it’s too early to make any definite conclusions but I feel like there are a few things that are connected:

• At the end of Pirates, Martyn is stranded between worlds and cut off from his usual means of transporting himself between them (I think, it’s been a while since I watched his finale and I frankly wasn’t paying much attention.) …I think it’s also interesting to note that Martyn freely talks about his time on Pirates (in character, during rp, I mean) as though the characters of Rats would know what he’s talking about. Surely he must know he’s not in the same universe anymore? Because rat…? Anyway

• He also famously bears scars in the same places his fragments were broken off of his soul or something each life series. The one from third life is located directly under his eye and was the result of him crying when Ren died. He has retained these scars into Pirates and then on onto Rats 2

• In Rats 2, Martyn wears an eyepatch over the same eye his fragment scar is under. He’s been avoiding talking about it, so we don’t know what (if anything) happened to his eye (but I would guess it’s important.) Given that he appears to keep scars between worlds, losing an eye would probably be a bit of a problem (unless it’s a steven universe type situation and scars represent emotional baggage more than anything physical, which is come to think of it kind of like what fragment scars are except not really at all)

• Unless he’s bluffing, Martyn arrived to the Rats world unconscious in the middle of the ocean (contrast this with his entrance to Pirates, in which he was pretty much ready to go, briefed, and in close proximity to his target), and (despite being in the middle of the ocean) was immediately found by Ren.

So what I’m getting from this is his re-entry to Rats was very unplanned after being lost between worlds. This landing takes place not near his target (which he appears to have, somehow, though we don’t know what it is) but instead near Ren specifically. He also mysteriously has Something going on with his eye in the same area of his face where he has a piece of his soul missing… a piece of his soul directly related to Ren. Not Rats Ren, but still, a Ren.

What does this mean? I don’t know. But this information taken together gives me a few ideas about what exactly might be going on here.

The working idea is that, while lost between worlds, Martyn (unintentionally? unconsciously?) used something related to his fragment to navigate him towards A. a familiar world or B. the nearest version of Ren. This process likely messed up his eye as well.

What do you guys think? 🐀

[chrollogy]

iv. NEW YEAR BLUES

miya atsumu x f!reader

── next: v. Misunderstandings | series masterlist

synopsis: After sending a risky text to Atsumu, you avoid your phone the next morning like a ticking time bomb until curiosity gnaws at your skin but it doesn’t take long before you cave. Thus, with a bated breath, you brace yourself for his response.

chapter content warning: college au, angst heh, shrine visit (poor depiction), implied alcohol use, tipsy reader (maybe a dumbass too), miya atsumu is an even bigger dumbass, hinata mention LMAO, mutual pining, slow burn, requited unrequited love, miscommunication (it just got even worse. rip.), not beta read.

word count: 4.1k

notes: divider: cafekitsune. woweeee one more chapter and then we’re done ehehehehe >:)

It was quarter to two.

The mellow hum of Hyōgo’s early winter morning settled into Atsumu’s bones like a pair of invisible shackles, holding him hostage between the borders of sleep, and sobriety. On other nights, it lulled him to slumber without any problem but not tonight, not when his mind was plagued with thoughts of you.

Out of all times, his brain decided to recount every single moment with you from the trip. First, it was the happy, mellow memories of the first day—stolen glances full of yearning, his crimson-tinged cheeks, and fluttering heartbeats, and then came the uncomfortable haze that drove a wedge between the two of you. God, Atsumu didn’t even want to think about that moment on the boat.

Atsumu was fully aware that you knew his response was a complete lie but could you really blame him? What difference would it have made if he said ‘yes’? At the end of the day, what he felt for you was one-sided, nothing was going to change the fact that you only viewed him as a friend.

In fact, maybe this wall between the two of you was the cure to his yearning heart—a space to help him move on, and forget the familiarity of loving you.

As Atsumu’s caramel gaze bore into the ceiling above, tracing the moonlit glow that seeped from the window, his phone illuminated the dark room for a brief second, a tinge of blue catching his attention.

Mindlessly reaching for his device that lay on the wooden nightstand, he let out a tired sigh, honeyed eyes squinting at the sudden brightness that invaded his vision. Letting his eyes adjust, Atsumu carefully read the notification banner on the lock screen.

It was a message from you. His heart violently stuttered. Thank goodness for the tight grip he had or else his face would’ve been aching from his phone falling on it.

As if on instinct, Atsumu sat up, clearly sobered up from the fact that you texted him at almost 2 AM. Were you perhaps also having trouble sleeping? Atsumu wondered if your mind was also filled with thoughts the past few days—thoughts of him. He could only fantasise.

The blonde positioned himself against his headboard before clicking onto your message with a shaky digit, and a thundering heartbeat.

It was an absurdly long paragraph.

‘hey. i know you’re asleep right now, and you’ll probably see this in the morning but whatever :) . .’

Atsumu swallowed thickly. For some reason, he felt oddly nervous about this message but at the same time, anticipated the context behind it. Maybe you were trying to salvage whatever was left of the friendship? Or maybe you just wanted to cuss him out with a long, detailed message.

Nonetheless, Atsumu kept reading,

‘. . . i’m not going to beat around the bush or anything so i’ll get straight to the point. i like you. i’ve had feelings for you since highschool and i know it’s cowardly of me to confess over text but i don’t mind being called one.

god, i cannot even remember the feeling of my heart acting normal around you. my heart is so painfully familiar to yearning for you that it hurts. whenever i see you, i just can’t seem to act right. i hate how my heart stutters, how my cheeks heat, how my body suddenly doesn’t know how to act normally. it’s bittersweet because i feel guilty for falling in love with a close friend but also i’m not ashamed of it because you’re so amazing, and caring.

i cherish you a lot, tsumu, i really do and i know you do too but i don’t think it's in the way i want you to. i’m not pressuring you for an answer or anything because i already know you don’t like me back but that’s okay. i don’t know what will happen after this but just know that i really admire our friendship.

like i said before, you don’t have to reply to this. i just really needed to get all the pent up feelings out of my chest so i can finally move on :) just give me some time to be myself again.’

One word. Speechless. Miya Atsumu was speechless.

There were so many goddamn emotions that ran through every single fibre of his body to the point where his brain couldn’t process it all. Atsumu didn’t know whether to be ecstatic with the fact that—holy shit—you reciprocated his feeling, or to be frustrated with the fact that you thought it was one-sided.

His heart hammered against his chest, the pounding of it reaching his very ears. He was so fucking nervous that he breathed through his parted lips, honeyed eyes re-reading every single word you typed. The winter chill that filled his room went awfully warm, mirroring the crimson tinge that painted his cheeks.

So he was the one you were talking about back then; that drunken confession where you told him you had feelings for a certain someone.

Atsumu didn’t know what to do—didn’t know what to respond.

In all honesty, you put him in a very tough spot. How was he supposed to respond after confessing your feelings but also stating that you did not, in fact, sought an answer. Not to mention how you practically put words in his mouth.

Who were you to decide if Atsumu reciprocated your feelings or not?

The blonde took a deep, shaky breath, palms sweating as he gripped the device. Atsumu knew he needed to respond with a calculated mind—as tempting as it was, he wasn’t going to let his heart lead this time.

Not when his mind painfully reminded him of the conversation you two had,

“I don’t even think I’m ready for a relationship.” “So . . yer jus’ gonna confess for the sake of movin’ on? Even if he likes ya back?”

He vividly remembered the way you solemnly nodded to his question, a sad, subtle smile lingering on your lips as if to reassure yourself that you’ll be okay.

Atsumu closed his eyes, letting the sounds of crickets chirping outside consume him. The gears in his head turned, and turned, working overtime to come up with a response. He had to be sensible, whatever he replied was surely going to change the course of your bond, forever.

Though, there was only one thing he knew—to respect your decision.

The morning came rather quickly, early rays peeked through your window, mellow hues of yellow, and orange painted the ivory walls of your room to cast a warm, inviting glow—a reminder of the impending day ahead.

As you reached for your device to check the time, you were greeted with a black, unlit screen, your sleepy reflection staring back. Oh, that’s right. You had turned it off right after sending that risky text message to Atsumu, wanting nothing to do with it.

Vivid memories of last night came flooding in, filling every corner of your mind. All the words you typed down, the feelings that came with it, the hammering of your heart—it came back to you, and now, you were twice as nervous. You wondered if Atsumu had already read your message, even more curious about his response—if he did send one back.

Just thinking about it made your head dizzy. There was a ray of hope tucked neatly at the bottom of your heart, it wasn’t big but you held onto it like it was the most precious thing.

You let out a sigh, and tossed the device on your bed before getting ready to brave the winter day ahead. There were four more days before the new year rolled around—how you were going to spend the last two days heavily depended on Atsumu’s response.

It was inevitable. Every now, and then, your eyes mindlessly wandered to the device that lifelessly lay atop your sheets, its blackened screen inviting you to turn it on. You turned your room upside down for anything to distract you from the silent beckoning of your device—from re-reading your favourite manga to blankly staring at the ceiling above.

There was even an urge to read a syllabus from one of your new classes this coming semester.

Four hours. You lasted four dreadful hours before curiosity settled into your skin like a painful bite—no matter how much you ignored it, it seemed to worsen.

And with a hammering heartbeat, and sweaty palms, you turned it on. Patiently waiting, you watched as it displayed the brand logo, and then a few seconds before it loaded your lock screen. A heartbeat passed as the device showed several notifications from last night, and this morning. Disregarding them, you scrolled straight down until Atsumu’s message notification came into view.

You sucked in a breath.

The thread of messages between you two quickly popped up as you clicked on the notification. Bracing yourself, your eyes wander down to the start of his response—god, it was equally as long.

It was sent at 2 AM. It made you even more nervous after realising that Atsumu was indeed still awake when you had sent the message.

‘hey :) first of all, i’m very thankful that you had the courage to bring this up to me so please don’t call yourself a coward, i know how hard it is to try and confess to someone. i find it admirable, really. i think it’s brave of you to decide something like this.

secondly, i am over the moon after finding out you have feelings for me. it feels such an honour to be loved by a close friend so thank you again for letting me know. like you said, i, too, cherish our friendship. i don’t know what will become of our bond after this but just know that i am very glad to be friends with you.

thirdly, as you’ve mentioned in your message, i don’t feel the same way. .’

You stopped reading to stare at the ceiling above, a foolish smile plastered upon your lips—it conveyed anything but happiness.

Oh.

Oh.

So, you were right. Atsumu didn’t feel the same way.

That little bundle of hope deep inside your heart disappeared, dissolving into nothing but what seemed like distant memories—memories of your saccharine moments together.

God, you already had a feeling he didn’t like you back but why did it feel like a hard slap on the face? As if reeling you back into dull reality after a haze of fantasy. This was what you wanted, right? To confess with rejection in mind so you could finally move on. But now that the answer lay right before you on a silver platter, why didn’t you want to move on?

You mustered every single bit of your strength to read the rest of his message, vision becoming blurry as tears slowly formed.

‘. . . you’re such a great friend. don’t get me wrong, you’re beautiful both inside and out but my feelings for you are just platonic. i’m really sorry that i don’t reciprocate your feelings. i don’t know how much this will affect you but just know that if you want me to stay away, i will. it’s the least i can do to help you move on.

you’re an amazing person, and there are a lot of other guys out there who deserve you so much but i am not one of them. again, thanks for letting me know.’

You didn’t even realise hot tears started rolling down your cheeks until it hit the screen with a soft sound, one by one, droplets of tears scattered the surface of your device as if to wash away all of Atsumu’s words

A weird feeling blossomed in your chest, extending its sharp roots down to your stomach where it painfully planted itself. The grip on your phone tightened, other hand clutching—clawing—at your heavy heart, wanting to take it out from the confines of your ribcage and mend it with your own shaky hands.

Everything felt completely still, birds that hummed their usual morning song were no more, mellow sounds of the city became distant as you let yourself wallow in complete sadness.

It was odd, you felt nothing, and everything at the same time—the ugly feeling in your chest, the sting behind your eyes, the impending headache from your stuffy nose. Atsumu’s words repeated inside your mind, plagued it like an invasive plant which invited more pain to your strained heart.

‘I don’t feel the same way. My feelings for you are just platonic.’

It wasn’t just cupid’s stupid arrow agonisingly digging into the core of your heart, no, it also felt like he had wrung your heart dry with his bare hands, and he was laughing about it.

You felt like a fucking fool. Especially for hoping that somewhere down the line, Atsumu felt the same way.

The last two remaining days of the year were a complete haze, navigating through the last moments with a clouded mind, and an unmendable heart while putting on a brave face. And as the clock struck midnight on the 31st, you put on the happiest smile you could muster in front of your parents, and welcomed the new year with uncertainty. You tried not to think about Atsumu’s words but they were seared into your mind, a mocking reminder of your unreciprocated feelings.

It wasn’t long before the first morning of the new year greeted you with clear skies, and warm rays, paired with an early call from Suna. You already knew the reason for his call—of course, one cannot celebrate the new year without hatsumōde.

“It’s a surprise you picked up my call, you haven’t been answering my texts. Anyway, the twins, and I are visiting the shrine, coming?”

“How about Kita?” You asked. “He’s going with his grandmother tomorrow.”

With a sigh, you hesitantly agreed. It's only been two days since the confession, and you could already feel the awkwardness, and pain seeping into your bones. You knew you weren’t even ready to face Atsumu yet but you’ve never turned down a shrine visit from your friends, especially on new years.

Before you knew it, the crisp winter air engulfed your body. Clad in thick layers of clothes, you walked the quiet footpath to the local shrine, heart hammering against your chest with every step taken closer to your friends—to Atsumu.

His flaxen locks were easy to spot, standing out amongst the crowd of people with raven strands. Your heart violently stuttered but you kept your eyes on Suna, putting on a bright smile to greet them. They stood just before the grand torii gate which led straight to the shrine itself.

“Glad ya could make it.” Osamu greeted you with a hug, followed by Suna.

Throughout the whole exchange with the two men, you could feel Atsumu’s burning gaze on the side of your face, and god, was it an extreme sport to ignore it. The two didn’t notice the way you, and Atsumu awkwardly greeted one another—a tight-lipped smile, and a brief eye contact. You felt small, and naked under his honeyed gaze but it wasn’t anything intimate, you guessed this was the consequences of baring the contents of your heart two nights ago.

Tugging at the neckline of your clothes, you began to grow uncomfortable at the awkwardness that made itself known.

You weren’t going to lie, Atsumu looked devastatingly handsome as ever, and it pained your heart even more. Though, he had this familiar expression painted on his face—the one he always wore whenever he was upset about something. It was subtle but you noticed the way his bottom lip jutted out ever so slightly, the light crease between his thick brows.

It was hard not to wonder what Atsumu was upset about.

After showing respect by bowing at the torii gate, the four of you fell into a step. Since it was the first day of the new year, the shrine was packed with families, friends, couples and people alike; some were at the chōzuya—water purification pavilion—to purify their body & mind while others were already lined up to pay respects at the main shrine building.

Keeping to the sides of the main path, You, Suna, and Osamu fell into a mellow conversation—talking about the new year ahead, and the upcoming semester. Surprisingly, Atsumu didn’t join in the conversation, hands tucked deep inside the pockets of his jacket, he stared hard at the concrete beneath.

It shouldn’t bother him but it did.

You were the one who got rejected so why was he more upset about the situation? Why were you able to easily slip into a cheerful conversation with Osamu, and Suna while acting like nothing happened two nights ago? Atsumu half expected you to not even turn up today, he had to practically stop himself from overreacting after the brunette stated you’d come.

Well, it was good that you were already moving on but whatever. Atsumu decided shoving away the weird feeling in his chest was the best option.

After doing the ceremonial purification rite at the chōzuya, the four of you headed at the back of the line for the main shrine. It didn’t take too long until it was your turn, Suna, and Osamu went ahead first which left you, and Atsumu to pair up.

Watching as your two friends prayed at the shrine, you dug your nails into the plush of your palms, awkwardness eating away at you. It felt like everyone’s eyes were burning holes on both your’s, and Atsumu’s backs—as if they all knew what happened between the two of you a couple of nights back; it also didn’t help how you could practically feel Atsumu’s not-so-subtle stares from the side.

Sighing, you spoke to him for the first time since that moment at the boat, “If you’re uncomfortable with me, I’m more than happy to do it alone.”

You didn’t dare look at him, even when he fully turned to face you. It was dangerous, one look into his gaze, and you’d be a sobbing mess.

“It’s not that. It’s just . .”

Atsumu’s sentence trailed off as he noticed you walking up to the shrine. He closed his lips and silently followed, heart weighing heavy with every unspoken word that plagued his mind.

The two of you did the customs as usual: ringing the bell, tossing a 5 yen coin into the wooden saisen-bako, bowing twice, and clapping twice before praying. You, and Atsumu stayed still for a moment, eyes closed, and palms glued together to wish for good luck in the new year ahead. Ending the prayer with another bow, the two of you joined Osamu, and Suna.

“I saw ‘em distributin’ amazake. Wanna go grab some?” The younger twin pointed a thumb over his shoulder. His brother, and Suna agreed rather quickly, their throats bobbing at the mention of the sweet treat.

Feigning a yawn, you spoke up, “I think I’ll head home now. I didn’t really get much sleep last night.” This earned a unison of disgruntled sounds from Suna, and Osamu whereas Atsumu wordlessly looked over your way.

It wasn’t like you were lying, you really didn’t get much sleep, especially after waiting for the clock to strike midnight but it wasn’t like lack of sleep bothered you, no, it was the growing feeling in your chest the longer you spent time in Atsumu’s presence.

Bidding your friends a good bye, you headed home, each step taken away from Atsumu somewhat eased the strain in your heart.

Never in a million years would your old self believe that the feeling of being away from Atsumu brought a sense of comfort, a tranquillity in your heart. Albeit, not easy—nothing ever was when you’re taming a yearning heart—there were days where the urge to bask in his presence were strong, and there were days where you felt fine without Atsumu around.

Safe to say, your year started with the much dreaded new year blues.

Ever since the new semester started, you’ve busied yourself with assignments, weekly quizzes, and whatever else that allowed you to make several excuses just to not see Atsumu—whether it be movie nights at the twins’ apartment, afternoon library sessions, or simply just coffee runs with the group, you had an excuse

Before you knew it, it had already been a little over two weeks since you’ve confessed—two weeks since you last saw Atsumu at the shrine. Two weeks, and your feelings never wavered for him, not even once, that was the stubbornness you were dealing with.

“Whatever, I’ll come by your place tonight, and drag you out if I have to.”

You groaned, “Suna.” He said your name with an equally serious tone, his dulcet voice spilling from the speakers of your phone.

“You’ve been holed up in your room since forever, and we haven’t seen you that much. I miss you, the twins miss you, and Kita misses you. It’s just a few hours to let loose.”

“Isn’t it a bit too early in the semester to party? Also, Kita’s coming?” You tried your best to ignore the fact that your heart stuttered at the mention of the twins missing you. Atsumu missed you? Before you could pick Suna’s words apart, he spoke into the line,

“It’s not a party, just a small gathering with some familiar faces. And, no, he isn’t. He needed to work on an assignment.”

“I do, as well!” “Bullshit. I’ll see you at eight.” With that, he ended the call.

And that’s how you ended up in the twins’ apartment, lazily sloshing the alcoholic contents of your plastic cup. You don’t recall the amount of drinks you’ve drank but it sure was enough to have your head spinning.

There were familiar faces here, and there—which you took time to greet every single one—and some foreign faces. You assumed most of the people here were Atsumu’s teammates from the university team with how close they were with the blonde.

In all honesty, you had absolutely no idea as to why the twins were even hosting this gathering, it was so out of the blue. Though, you did hear an orange-haired male loudly exclaim to Atsumu at how much of a genius he was for organising a gathering this early into the semester.

So, it was Atsumu’s idea all along.

“Y’know, you can just talk to him, right?”

Suna’s slurred voice unceremoniously pulled you out of your trance, shifting your attention over to him. “What do you mean?” You coughed, cheeks heating, trying to hide the fact that Suna just caught you shamelessly staring at Atsumu who conversed with the orange-haired male. He sat beside you, body far back into the couch, narrow eyes fighting the sleep that slowly overtook him.

You didn’t like how your mind instantly agreed with his sentence.

The brunette let out a humourless chuckle but didn’t elaborate further, instead, he pulled out his phone to mindlessly scroll on it. Narrowing your eyes at him for a brief moment, you shifted your gaze back to the blonde, he had a big smile on his face, a tinge of crimson across his cheeks.

God, even under the shitty lighting of their apartment, Miya Atsumu still looked handsome as ever.

You stared at him for a moment, heart hammering against your chest, limbs tingling at the sudden urge to walk up to him. Oh, this was a very dangerous game you were playing, especially with the alcohol in your system. Your mind yelled go, go, go but you knew better than to play with fire, right?

Wrong.

In a heartbeat, you were on your feet, taking slow strides over to Atsumu. The sober part of your mind screamed at you to turn around, and sit back down but the tipsy part of your mind was stubborn—you wondered if it took after your heart.

The sudden urge to talk to Atsumu was fuelled by nothing but liquid courage—all the worries in your mind were magically solved; the weight that pulled your heart down was gone, and suddenly, it didn’t seem like a bad idea to even talk to him.

Deep down, you knew you were playing a very dangerous game right now but you couldn’t care less. Not when your heart pulled you closer to him.

As you neared, Atsumu cut the conversation short with his friend, and stared at you with expectant eyes, brows sky high in surprise. He sucked in a breath as you looked up at him through your lashes, the corners of your lips subtly turned upwards. Heart pounding, he shifted his weight from one leg to another as he waited for you to speak first,

“‘Tsumu, can we talk?”

Atsumu’s knees almost gave out upon hearing his nickname roll off your tongue, an icy shiver running up his spine.

—

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© chrollogy 2024 | don't plagiarise, repost or steal my header.

[maximotts]

firm hand, gentle touch ⁘ w. maximoff

based off of an ask from @leolionsblog that was supposed to be a short response, but turned into a full fic.. Also, I know it's been a little bit since I've written for Wanda and Doll, but quick reminder that it's a dark AU so pls heed warnings and expect the morally gray 🩶 warnings are clearly labeled, please don't add community filters

Doll House! AU. masterlist || main masterlist :: Thinking is a dangerous game; thinking you know better than Wanda... that's asking for pure trouble wc. 2.2k . cw: 18+ only, minors DNI. mommy!Wanda and doll!reader. imposed routines. piss play (coerced bedwetting). dumbification. general teasing. subtle manipulation. series typical pet names and squishy times. Wanda who is trying her best to be gentle and patient and not use her powers to control you as much as she had.

Imagine it's early on in Wanda's little hex; Doll's so rarely allowed to go anywhere without Wanda and most often, she doesn't have the desire to anyways. Still new to the privilege of talking, you don’t find it much of a problem -Wanda always knows what you need- until you want something Wanda doesn't want to acknowledge.

Wanda loves holding you at all times, whether it's your hand while on an afternoon walk or pulling you close as you fall asleep, once she lets that boundary down there’s hardly a moment you have to reach out too far to her. And bedtime is a new exception.

In the beginning, the brunette was firm with putting to your bed on your own, staying long enough to tuck you in before retiring to her separate room for the night. She’d reasoned to herself it was good to have time apart, to prove to herself both that she could trust you to stay put and her to establish a routine. Night after night of dragging you back up the hall to your room and dealing with your sleepy cries had worn her down— now you slept in either of your bedrooms, together.

Your shared days now ended with an abundance of gentle intimacy, a new routine created to account for the unexpected closeness. Despite the gray circumstances bringing you together, a secret, less confident piece of Wanda expected you to resent her and keep distance whenever you could the more free will she gave, but you continued to surprise her.

Unbeknown to you, he genuine devotion only seemed stoked her need to control.

Standard practice meant Wanda always asked if you had to use the bathroom after your evening bath, but tonight you'd refused, impatient to get into bed and snuggle with your mommy. There was gentle suggestion that you at least try, but when you looked seconds from stomping your foot, Wanda relented, not wanting to fight over something so simple.

Now though, you paid the price, squirming as as you struggled to find the most comfortable position, something that typically wasn’t so hard when Wanda was stroking your skin and telling you a story. Typically perfectly intuitive, you assumed she’d stop speaking and lead you to the bathroom, having expecting some gentle admonishment while she sat you tired form on the toilet, but Wanda ignored all your hints at discomfort.

Eventually the pressure was too much and guessed your punishment must be the confusion of being left to your own devices. Alas you guessed wrong and the moment you twisted to sit up, Wanda held you back.

"Lay still and close your eyes, dolly. It's time for bed." Playing dumb was cruel when Wanda so clearly knew what was wrong, skirting a hand under your sleep shirt before pressing lightly on your sensitive belly. Wanda liked to call them your wigglies, called them so whenever they cropped up, quickly inquiring which problem possessed you; a telltale sign she needed to check in. Tonight, she remained willfully ignorant.

You whined into her neck, hips rolling into her thigh as you shuffled clumsily atop her, hoping if you burrowed deeper she wouldn't be able to make it worse. It proved to be a false hope once that same devious thigh bent between yours. "Wanna get up.."

“Why’s that? Does your tummy hurt?” The shy nod was as far as you were willing to confirm, lifting your hips to keep away from her teasing. You were still sparing with your words, much more used to actions or motions to communicate, but as soon as Wanda started letting you speak she expected proper response when disciplining you. “Tell me what’s wrong, baby.”

Resting on your knees gave Wanda just enough space to splay her hand over your stomach as she did when it ached, but for your current plight the warmth of her palm atop your bladder felt too taunting. “Can I go pee, mommy? I’ll be quick!”

A speedy return was far from Wanda’s concerns; watching your struggle set off a new lightbulb within and exhausted as she was, she deferred to her curiosity.

Wanda’s subsequent too tight squeeze left you clamping your legs about her waist, focusing on holding that heavy, full feeling inside. If she’d stopped there you’d surely run as fast as your legs would let you, would surely think twice before stubbornly rejecting Wanda’s suggestions, but the basic behavior of minding her in the future wasn’t sating her interest. "You told me twice you didn't need to go; either you lied or you didn't know any better.”

You so rarely second guessed her, a quick scan of your thoughts earlier confirmed you only did so tonight in the name of skipping to another nightly cuddle… Poor thing, you really did always mean well, but sadistically, she longed to impose more memorable consequences. “From now on you're going to listen to me, aren't you?"

The resulting agreement was expected, your deference was almost always automatic particularly in quest to get what you wanted faster. Wanda would give it just, not how you imagined. "Go ahead then, sweetheart, you don’t have to get up. Let go and we can go to sleep."

Almost.

"But that's messy…" Surely she was joking; the messes you left on the floor or at the dinner table were the primary reasons you found yourself in trouble. Brain already stretched dozens of ways, you could only imagine she was waiting for you to slip up. There was the occasional time where your mommy would give you the opportunity to prove yourself, one choice she’d guided you towards once or twice and one obvious misstep you still sometimes mindlessly fell for.

Worriedly pouting lips betrayed your conflict, trapped body twisting more sloppily as the seconds ticked on. Admittedly, she acted a bit out of character in accessing how much progress she’d made with her new toy. Slowly the witch had been relinquishing her hold on your will, hoping it’d been long enough you’d bend to hers without struggle. At the very least, tonight was now an exercise in how far you’d come.

New freedoms aside, she didn’t want you to think, certainly not hard enough to debate her commands. “Did I ask you about the mess?”

Silence wasn’t enough, Wanda’s free hand tugging the ponytail she’d lovingly tied in your hair just over an hour ago. The swirling red tendrils forming in her irises signaled she meant business; whether Wanda’s eyes changed on purpose or not was a question you had yet to ask aloud, but you knew well enough she’d reached the end of her patience. “Speak up when I ask you a question.”

Combined physical and mental pressure was too intense to bear, pitiful whimpers catching in your throat. “N-no, you didn’t…”

“Then don’t worry your silly head.” Her fingers were so soft on your cheek, petting your rapidly heating cheeks and saying nothing of the tiny spot of wet that spilled atop her thigh as you faded into her— before you caught yourself. Either the missteps weren’t obvious enough or Wanda hadn’t done proper work on your hesitation. Wanda laughed at your panic, holding your jaw until you finally understood you needed to stop fighting her.

“I don’t have to go anymore,” The whisper was such a blatant lie, one Wanda nearly slapped you across the face for… but she’d resolved early on to never scare you so terribly again. Gentle things often did best with equally gentle punishments.

Your mommy took in the pathetic sight of her doll, stuck swimming in her struggling thoughts, and oh she felt bad. It’d be nothing to whisk thoughts thoughts away, to leave you again as nothing but a dumb thing without a care for any perceived standards. She feared you’d never learn if you didn’t do so for yourself and so, agitated as you were, Wanda decided to let you drown if you insisted on it.

“No? Such a fuss for only having to go a tiny bit,” she chided, loosening her grip despite your continued clinging. Guiding your lower half down alongside her leg, Wanda’s demeanor turned around, once brutal and probing now lighter than a feather and you felt as though you were suffering from severe whiplash.

It was obvious she didn’t believe you -you didn’t even convince yourself, legs still clenched desperately about Wanda- but she played pretend, shutting off the lone bedside lamp and shifting so you both laid down. “If you’re really all done then it’s past your bedtime. Shut your eyes and rest.”

And that was all she said. No goodnights or further affection, just lights out and quiet. You’d be a fool to think Wanda would let you slip away to the bathroom now, her only given solution hanging pendulous above your too fuzzy head. The longer you lay there, the more confusing refusing it seemed.

You didn’t know what tiny voice in your brain convinced you to suffer and think, but as the minutes ticked by in the dark, you grew to hate that sound. Whatever it was wasn’t your mommy, the only person you ever wanted to please. Listening to it only got you an awful tummy ache and distance between you and her, having spoiled your cozy moments with Wanda.

Letting Wanda decide was easier, much less work than the headaches resulting from making any right choice. Mind made up, your abdomen was the only thing nagging you now, but you were still bashful. “Mama?”

“What is it, little one?”

Her voice was the calm to your inner storm, tone sweet and oh so loving. “…maybe I have to pee more…”

“Be a good girl and do as mommy said.” A simple kiss sealed your fate, relinquishing the last bits of hesitancy in favor of your mommy’s soft lips on your forehead.

Gratefully she allows you to burrow into the crook of her neck, still a little too embarrassed to face Wanda as you relaxed, freeing your pent-up belly with a slow stream, spreading warmth growing on her hip. She praises you through it, comforting hands stroking the small of your back, distracting your overexerted brain from your damp underwear.

“There you go, now doesn’t that feel better?”

A subtle excitement lingered between your thighs, one you’d ask to explore another time when you had the energy. “It feels icky..”

Wanda cooed at your exhausted observation, patting your backside in an effort to keep you calm and quiet. “I meant for your poor tummy, but I’ll fix that too.”

Her favorite parts were always the consequence and the aftermath, savoring what an honor it was to take care of you long after you’d be able to care for yourself. That was her job, after all, tending to your needs and protecting you, even if sometimes it was from yourself. “I’ll clean you up in a bit, I promise.”

Your hazy gaze searched the brunette’s face with unfiltered confusion, desperate to be back under Wanda’s tender care. It was true; she always left every aspect seamless, never asked you to think about anything— so why were you? No more questioning her, you promised yourself for a final time, right then and there. “Are you mad at me, mommy? Did I mess up badly?”

“Oh, no no,” she soothed, rubbing your bare shoulders before tightening the plush comforter around them. “You did such a good job, sweet pea! I’m so proud of you.”

“Even though I lied?” Out of the corner of your eye, you caught Wanda unbuttoning her silk shirt and you wiggled down on instinct, ready to round out your bedtime routine. Preening under her affections was second nature, obedient and kept a state you were more than willing to accept.

“Yes, even then, but don’t do it again.” Wanda rewarded your eventual good behavior by guiding you down until wet lips captured her pert nipple. She knew her smart girl would come around sooner rather than later and as she studied your now fully unwound form, not a singular worry pecking at your cute head, the older woman basked in the genuine pride she held for her work. “I only want the best for you, my love. You’ve got the big job of telling me the truth so I can look after you properly, I know you can do that for me, can’t you?”

There was a muffled mhm from somewhere, much more preoccupied with the overwhelming comfort you basked in. You didn’t struggle to ignore anything now, head feeling lighter each second you melted further into your mommy, heavy lids fluttering closed under the gentle brush of stray hairs tucked behind your ear, her oh so soft hum of a melody that’s quickly become your favorite song…

Some time in the night you stirred, still heavily draped over Wanda’s sleeping form, and where you expected to feel sticky and uncomfortable, a shift of your thighs confirmed you were back to normal. You wore the same pajamas, woken in the exact position you’d dozed off in, and yet… it was as if nothing happened. Wanda’s lax cuddle wound around your midsection tighter, nurturing squeeze prompting your head to lay back onto her chest. “I told you mama will always take care of you, dolly. Now go back to sleep.”

[thetriumphantpanda]

two is better than one | joel & tommy miller

Summary | Frustrated that whatever you're trying to do still isn't working, you decide to give it one more try with Joel before cooling off for a while. Tommy is back to keep an eye on the both of you this time, but what happens when he starts to feel a little left out, watching his brother bring his girl over the edge more times than he cares to count?

Warnings | I swear I always start this the same way so here we go: Tommy getting cucked but also getting involved this time 👀, Joel being a fucking menace, dirty talk, oral sex (F&M receiving), face sitting, breeding kink, unprotected PiV sex, talk of infertility, no use of Y/N

Word Count | 3.8k

Authors Note | Whew. When I tell you this little threesome has been rotting my brain, I'm not lying. This is the only thing I can focus on, hence them being updated so fast! I just wanted to say a huge thank you to you all for the continued love you're giving this series - it honestly blows my mind every time that it's something you guys enjoy, that my writing reaches so many people and that they lap that shit up. I'm so grateful to everyone who has taken the time to comment, send me asks, reblogs and those who have slid into my DMs with all the love. I see you, I hear you, and I love you all - thank you. I hope you enjoy this next part just as much as the rest - it's a doozy. You know the drill, if you did like it, please consider reblogging, commenting or sending the love to my ask box, it's what keeps me going. And if you'd like to leave me a tip (of course no pressure!), then here's my Ko-Fi.

Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist

Another month and another fucking negative pregnancy test. You knew it was irrational, but you were starting to think that maybe you were also part of the problem now. You’d been doing everything right, following all the advice in the books you’d bought almost a year ago when Tommy and you had first started trying for a baby. You’d been exercising, eating as healthily as possible, tried to keep yourself a stress-free as possible. You’d been keeping a close eye on your cycle and still, nothing to show for it. 

When you clambered down the stairs, test in hand and flung it in Tommy’s direction, he already knew. He could see the heavy set of your shoulders, the quiet sniffling of you trying to hide the fact you were crying. Tommy had settled you on the couch, covered you in a blanket and made you some tea. Then he’d made your favourite meal for dinner, even driven to the store and picked up Diet Coke, emptied a can into a glass filled with ice and lime juice like you loved, but none of it really helped to soothe how upset you were. 

The TV was on low, and he had your head in his lap, slowly stroking the strands of your hair as you tried to calm yourself down. Remind yourself that even the most fertile of couples needed to try for months sometimes before they had their first baby. It was stupid to think you’d be any different. 

“You’re thinkin’ way too loud, sugar.” Tommy muses, letting his hand run up and down your arm instead. 

“Sorry,” You mumble, “Just thought it would be easier.” 

“I know,” He coos, “We can take a break for a while, if you want.” 

You turn so you’re led on your back, looking right up at him, “I just want a baby.” You feel a tear slip down your cheek to pool near your ear. 

Tommy uses his thumb to brush away the tears that have started to fall, bobbing his leg up and down gently to try and soothe you, “It’s still fresh,” He speaks softly, “Let’s give it a couple of days and see what you want to do, okay?” 

You nod in agreement, feeling the beginnings of a headache pooling behind your eyes. You push yourself up into a sitting position and turn around to press a soft kiss to his lips, “I’m gonna go to bed,” You announce, “Headache.” 

He lets you go, it’s still early and you know there’s the game highlights he wanted to watch. In bed, you can do nothing but toss and turn for a few hours. Every time you’d try to close your eyes, all you could see was vision of you and Joel, in all the different positions he’d put you in so far, and all for what? When the bedside clock hit 10:30, you head out to use the bathroom. As you near the door at the top of the stairs you can hear Tommy talking to someone, through the phone because his is the only voice you can hear. 

“I know, brother, she’s just really beat up about it,” You hear him say, “I don’t know how to make it better.” 

You lean against the closed bathroom door, wondering if perhaps you should leave Tommy to talk to Joel. There’s a pause where you can hear Tommy humming along to whatever Joel is saying on the other end of the phone. 

“I dunno man,” Tommy sighs, “You managed to knock Sarah’s mom up on a one-night stand, guess I thought it would be easier for you.” 

There’s another pause, then he’s speaking again. 

“No Joel, all of her tests came back perfect,” Another sigh, “I was always the problem.”

You’re about to push down the handle to go to the bathroom when Tommy speaks again, “I don’t know, maybe we should just cool it for a while, we’re all gonna work ourselves up otherwise.” 

You decide you don’t really want to hear the rest of the conversation. You sit on the toilet and let your face drop to your hands in frustration. Why couldn’t you just be normal? Why couldn’t you have been a nice, normal couple, having a baby in the most natural way possible? Why did this have to come along and fucking complicate everything? And why did Joel have to be so fucking good to you every time? 

You wash your hands under the tap, water as scalding as it could go, just in order to feel something that wasn’t frustration before you head to bed. There’s no longer the sound of voices as you pad back across the hall and get back into bed, shutting off the lights and curling onto one side, knees as close to your chest as you can manage to get them. It’s not long before you can hear Tommy shuffling around upstairs. He pushes open the bedroom door quietly, obviously thinking you’re already asleep. You can hear him undressing before he's slipping onto his side of the bed, pulling your body close to his under the covers as he spoons you. 

You let your own arm cover his over your waist as you lean back into the comfort of his chest, letting his breath fan across the skin of your shoulder as he presses a kiss to your skin. 

“I wanna try again,” You speak softly into the dark, feeling Tommy’s arm’s squeeze you tighter, “Once more and then we cool it for a while.” 

“You sure?” He asks into your ear, lips pressing to the sensitive skin behind your ear. 

“I’m sure.” You respond, turning around in his arms to capture his lips in yours. 

When the time comes to try again, it’s you who greets Joel at the door when he knocks. Tommy already upstairs and situated in the chair he had taken the first time you’d done this as a three. Joel leans down, lips just millimeters from your own, but instead of kissing your mouth, he places a soft kiss to your cheek instead. 

“Hello, darlin’.” 

You step up onto your tiptoes to press your own kiss to his face, just shy of the corner of his mouth – the kisses from last time still a secret between the two of you. 

“Evening handsome,” You smile, pulling away from him to close the door as he steps inside, “You ready?” 

“To give you what you want?” He smirks, “Always, pretty girl.” 

You feel that telltale heat flush across your cheeks as Joel pulls you into his side, hand dipping down to squeeze your ass over the fabric of the robe you’d thrown on moments ago. God, why did he have to be so fucking intoxicating around you?

You take hold of his hand in yours, leading him up the stairs behind you. Tommy was reading a book as you entered the room, folding the corner of the page before setting it down on the nightstand closest to the chair. You can’t help but snigger as you watch him and Joel give each other the typical male greeting of a curt nod of the head. 

You drag Joel by the arm to the foot of the bed, pushing his shoulders down so he sits on the edge. Then you take a step back and tug on the belt of your robe, letting it fall open and off your body to leave you completely naked in front of him. You watch his face as he trails those beautiful brown eyes over your body, letting out a low whistle of approval. 

“Beautiful as ever, darlin’,” He compliments, reaching out a hand for you to take, “But you’re worked up, ain’t ya? And not in the good way.” 

Your eyes flit to Tommy in the corner of the room, who has that smug ‘I told you so’ look on his face. You’d been itching for Tommy to arrange this since that ovulation test said you were in the zone, but Joel had been working away for the past two days, and now you were worried that if you didn’t hurry the fuck up, you’d miss your chance. 

Joel reaches out and puts his hands on the back of your thighs, pulling you into him, he’s looking up at you, pressing hot kisses to the skin of your tummy, “Gotta relax babygirl,” He moans, “I’m tryin’ my damned hardest, but you just gotta let nature take its course.” 

“Just frustrating.” You mumble. 

“I know baby, I know,” He’s got his hands palming your tits now, “Long as I need to, I’ll keep fillin’ you up, y’hear me?” 

Your breath catches in your throat and all you can do is nod as he moves himself back on the bed. 

Joel leans back on the bed, his head just shy of the pillows, “Sit on my face, pretty girl.” 

You’re almost embarrassed at how quickly you scramble yourself onto the bed, moving up to straddle his hips – even Tommy is chuckling from his chair. 

“Can’t get enough of Joel’s mouth on your pussy, can you, sugar?” He speaks in a low voice. 

Joel has his hands on your ass, guiding your naked body to hover over his face before his hands are slipping up to your hips to pull your cunt to his mouth. He wastes no time in getting straight to business, wide tongue licking stripes from your entrance, where he laps up your slick like a cat would cream, to those deliciously tight flicks of the tip of his tongue to your clit. You can hear him groaning into your pussy, your hand coming down to anchor itself into his hair to hold him still as you start grinding against his face. 

You can hear the obscene slurps that he’s making underneath you, it’s half the reason you think it takes you no time at all to reach the edge, because he fucking enjoys this just as much as you do, he loves tasting you, loves making you feel good and you can feel that, can feel it on his mouth. 

As you throw your head back as Joel’s tongue swipes perfectly across your clit, you catch Tommy in the corner of the room. He’s palming himself through his jeans as he watches you, your body writhing as his brother’s mouth brings you closer and closer to the edge. It wouldn’t hurt, would it? You think, if you asked if he wanted you to help him out. 

“You feeling left out baby?” You coo, reaching your hand out for Tommy to take, “Joel gets my pussy tonight,” You punctuate with a grind of your pussy down onto his mouth, “But I can help you, if you want.” 

He’s standing at the edge of the bed in minutes, his hand pressing into the back of your neck, not unlike how he tries to work the knots from there when you watch TV together. It’s soft and it’s loving and a complete juxtaposition to the vice grip that Joel’s fingers currently have on your hips. 

Your lips are impossibly close to Tommy’s, you could easily lean forward and kiss him, instead, you have a demand, “Take off your pants.” 

Tommy’s hands start to undo the belt holding his jeans up, so you turn your attention back to Joel between your thighs. He is expertly holding you right on the edge, you’re mewling and whining as he tongue works you to the edge, and then pulls away, moving down to gather more of your slick on his tongue. 

You drop your head and catch his eyes looking up at you, “You gonna tease me all night, Miller?” You ask, voice cracking as he makes a point to suckle on your clit, making you cry out, “Fuck, make me come, please Joel.” 

All of a sudden, Tommy’s hand is on your face, pulling your mouth to his own in a searing kiss as he guides your hand to his cock. You’re moaning, a combination of the fact that any second, Joel’s mouth is going to have you screaming and the fact that it’s Tommy kissing you, his cock you’re currently pumping through your fist. It’s delicious and it’s filthy and it should feel all shades of wrong, but it fucking doesn’t. 

You feel it in your legs first, the way they begin to shake and pulse and your thighs clamp around Joel’s face. Then you feel it in your abdomen, like a knot unfurling all at once as pleasure bursts over every inch of your skin. Your mouth detaching from Tommy’s, so you can cry out his brother’s name as you feel yourself almost collapse onto him. 

“Such a good girl,” Tommy breathes into your ear, your hand still firmly held around his cock, “So good when you come for us like that.” 

You feel Joel’s hands tapping at the cheeks of your ass, telling you to lift yourself off his face which you do, dragging yourself down enough so that you’re sat across his chest, not caring that your leaking pussy is dragging slick all over him. His face is covered, covered in you. He’s grinning up at you like the devil, tongue circling his mouth to clean your taste from wherever he can reach. 

“I gotta be inside you, pretty girl.” You can hear his gruff voice speak. 

Tommy immediately moves back from you so you can settle yourself down on the bed. You start on your back, but Joel moves you to lie on your side. He’s still fully clothed behind you, but when he presses himself up against you, you can feel his thick cock straining in his jeans. 

“Take your clothes off.” Is all you can manage to whine as Tommy settles on his knees on the space in front of you, taking the back of your head in the palm of his hand to bring your mouth to his cock. 

Joel shuffles away from you and you feel the mattress lighten as he gets off the bed to shed his clothes. You almost wish you could watch, there’s something about the way Joel reveals his body to you that drives you wild. The way he drags his shirt off to reveal his broad frame, chest peppered with hair, or the way his cock bounces when he finally pulls off his underwear. But right now, you’re focused on making your man feel good. 

You’re making sure that you’re doing it exactly as Tommy likes, almost telling him through the ministrations of your mouth how grateful you are for him, for this being his idea, for loving you enough and trusting you enough to let someone else give you what he cannot. You’re giving all the attention of your tongue to the head of Tommy’s weeping cock, tasting the salt and musk of his pre-cum, using one had to pump the base of his cock. 

You can feel Joel settle back behind you, pressing his entire body against your own, hard cock slipping through the slick folds of your cunt as he settles himself in the right position, then, he’s taking hold of your leg, hand in the crux of your knee to pull it up, baring his prize. He slowly inches his cock inside your tight heat and suddenly it’s all a little overwhelming. 

You’re giving the love of your life the kind of head you’ve only ever seen in porn, Tommy taking most of the control to thrust in and out of your mouth. You’re pretty sure the tears falling from your eyes are a mixture of his length hitting the back of your throat and the overwhelming emotion, love, and admiration you feel for both the men who are crowding your body, owning it, taking what they both want, one of them hopefully leaving you with what you want. 

You pull your face away from Tommy’s cock for a moment, still giving his length the attention it needs, but you let yourself lean into Joel behind you, his cock still moving languidly inside you. He’s got one of his arms snaked under your neck, your head leant against his arm like a pillow, his other hand holding your leg up so that every time his cock brushes inside you, it’s hitting that damn spot that makes you want to cry. 

“Look at you, lucky girl,” Joel growls into your ear as his lifts your leg up higher, pushing it almost to lie flat aagainst your side, “One cock in that pretty little pussy, another in your mouth,” You let a moan, muffled by the fact that Tommy is currently doing a slap-up job of fucking your throat, “He’s a lucky man,” Joel speaks again, “Bet that mouth feels divine.” 

“You ask nicely, she might oblige you, brother.” 

You feel him puff air through his nose in a chuckle, “I’m quite happy right where I am,” He speaks, pumping his cock so deep inside you that you actually think you can see stars, “You’re a lucky son-of-a-bitch gettin’ this for the rest of your life.” 

“She’s special, I’ll give you that.” 

It’s like you have to prove him right now. You can feel the walls of your pussy clenching around Joel as he picks up his pace. You can feel his balls slapping into your skin with every thrust, the power behind them causing your mouth to take Tommy cock deeper into your mouth every time. 

“Sugar, I ain’t gonna last much longer.” You hear him speak from above you. 

You pull off him, again letting your hand work him as you look up at his through your lashes, “You want me to swallow for you, baby?” You asked, wondering what you must look like when he looks down at you, fucked out from his brother, begging for him to come down your throat. 

“There’s an offer I cannot refuse,” Tommy grins, letting your mouth take him back inside the warmth, “Such a good girl.” 

He only lasts a few more seconds, cum hitting your tongue and seeping down your throat. You swallow down every drop, grinning up at Tommy. He leans down and plants a kiss to your lips, and now your focus is on Joel, thick and solid, pumping his cock in and out of you. 

“You focus on Joel now, sugar,” He croons, “I’m gonna sit back and watch you have fun.” 

As soon as Tommy has moved away from you, Joel is pulling his cock from your pussy, turning you onto your back before he’s crowding his frame over you, settling between your thighs. You’re pliant and you move easily when he hooks your legs over his shoulders, folding you back as he slips his cock back inside you. 

You’re gripping his arms as he fucks into you in earnest now, tip of his cock bruising your cervix with every thrust, you know he’ll have half-moon shaped marks on his arms come the morning, they’ll match the bruises he always leaves on your hips, the shape of his fingertips indented into your skin. 

“God fuckin’ damnit,” Joel groan, head falling to the column of your throat to graze teeth and lips over your delicate skin, “Gonna come so deep in this fuckin’ pussy it won’t have a choice but to take, you hear me, pretty girl?” 

“Fuck!” You exclaim, as he shifts just enough to change the angle that his cock is spearing into you, “Joel please.” 

“Please what?” He teases, “What do you want, babygirl?” 

“Inside,” You breath out, “Want you inside.” 

“Yeah, want me to make you a mama?” You can feel tears pooling in your eyes, “No need to cry, pretty girl,” He leans down, folding you in half even more, almost uncomfortable, to kiss away the tears, “Gonna give you what you need.” 

He thankfully moves back a little, stopping your bones from screaming at you for being folded so inhumanely, then his thumb is on your clit, “Only gonna make you a mama if you come with me,” Joel smirks, “Deal?” 

“Oh god – fuck – whatever you want,” You cry, “Please, give me what I want.” 

His thumb is relentless on your already sensitive clit, those tight circles have you clenching around him and when you look into his eyes you know he’s just as close as you are, “That’s it baby, you keep those big, beautiful eyes on me,” Joel’s hips are snapping into your with a force you didn’t know you could feel, it’s entirely too much and entirely too little all at the same time, “Can feel that tight little pussy suckin’ me in,” You cry out as his thumb falters and drags across your clit in a way that has that not threatening to unfurl yet again, “It’s alright baby, if you come, I’ll follow, yeah?” 

That’s exactly what happens. His thumb traces wet circles over your clit and you do exactly as he says. You keep your eyes wide open, staring directly into his own, as your mouth falls open with a screech as your vision clouds. Whatever happens, Joel is right behind you, his cock pounds into at most, twice more, before he’s growling your name through his teeth, cum painting every inch of your pussy. He drops your legs from his shoulders, and falls forward, letting his head rest in the crook of your neck as you both fight to catch your breath.

You wrap your arms around him but it’s all too soon before he’s pulling himself out of you, a kiss to your cheek as he does so. You’re spent and you’re aching and if you’re honest, a little overwhelmed. Joel dresses quickly, and you wish you could ask him to stay, wish he didn’t feel the need to run away, but you know it’s for the best. Tommy tells you he’ll see him out and come to bed, so you roll over and pull yourself under the sheets, trying to warm yourself from the cool air that’s spattering across the sweat of your skin. 

Tommy is back within minutes having seen Joel off. He shed his clothes and moves right up behind you, gathering you into his arms. He takes some time to press kisses into your neck and across your shoulders and for some reason, it sets your belly on fire. How have you been fucked so thoroughly by another man, this man’s own brother, and now you’re aching for this man behind you. 

“I love you so much, Tommy,” You whisper into the dark, clutching at his arms wrapped around you, “So fucking much.” 

“I love you too baby,” He whispers into your ear, stilling your hips as they grind back into him, “Enough of that, I’ll give you what you want tomorrow.” 

[holy-puckslibrary]

— 𝐯𝐚𝐫𝐬𝐢𝐭𝐲 𝐛𝐥𝐮𝐞𝐬.

pairing(s) — dilf!ERIK JOHNSON x ex-nanny!wife!reader (established); REESE JOHNSON (oc) x ex-nanny!stepmom!reader (platonic / familial)

wc — 4.7k synopsis — family weekend forces reese’s worlds to collide. results are… mixed note — i just really love reese. that's it :) and how dilfy does mr johnson look in that gif good lord

the nanny (series masterlist) | main masterlist

content warnings under the cut.

cw — age gap relationship (erik and the reader, established), vulgar college boys with no respect, busy-bodies who cannot mind their own beeswax, possessive!erik, pregnant!reader (not discussed in detail), sweet bby reese in peril :(

REESE JOHNSON has a problem.

It’s the sort of anxiety-trodden predicament that could’ve been soothed into nothingness had he spoken up sooner. He didn’t because he couldn’t. That was part of the problem. 

And now it’s too late—for solutions or comfort.

The teen, now a second-semester freshman at the University of Denver, had long since adjusted to the heightened scrutiny of his family in the early days of your relationship with his father. Everyone online had to throw in their two cents on the “illicit affair.” Even people who didn’t give a shit about hockey (evidenced by their inability to name a single team) felt they had a right to weasel their way in. While irritating and uncomfortable, the harsh reads didn’t bother him for too long because Reese knew the truth.

He also knew how unnecessarily ruthless people could be when they had a screen to hide behind. The son of a prominent figure in professional sports, Reese knew people stared at him through a very particular lens. It veered toward a rosy sheen every so often, but mostly it was smudged glass. Like a fish tank whose walls were muddy with the greasy impressions spectators left behind. Strangers offering commentary on his father’s life, and by extension his too, was part of the gig.

Frankly, the aftermath wasn’t much different than before. Only the subject matter changed. If it wasn’t thinly veiled insults about Erik’s waning career or his prior inability to keep a girlfriend, it was overly critical evaluations of Reese’s prowess or lack thereof and, unsurprisingly, comparisons between father and son. Without fail, the verbiage and tone implied competition, hinting that their healthy bond was only a bit of showmanship to hide the rocky resentment beneath.

This weekend is different. Sure, his teammates and friends had already gotten ample face-time with both of his parents, as well as his kid sister, but never all at once. Though they all did their best to coordinate, busy schedules rendered a revolving cheering section for Reese Johnson. 

This weekend—family weekend—will change that. By some stroke of luck (or a cruel twist of fate, the jury's still out on that one), everyone would be here… together. And that’s not to say he isn’t grateful for their effort or that he isn’t excited because he is. Reese is thrilled to share this new slice of life with his loved ones. It’s just that…

Reese knows how it looks when they venture out into the world.

Not that his dad is exactly old or even old-looking. In the same way you aren’t questionably young. Still, the age difference is noticeable. Before you were more than a nanny to the Johnsons (if you were ever just a nanny to begin with), it was easier for on-lookers to assess the dynamic, and still, albeit seldomly, they would drum up gossip. Things got remarkably more awkward, though, after his father finally plucked up the courage to propose, and increased tenfold once Erik had a gold band to match. It was as if the wedding ushered in the open season on Johnsons.

More times than he cared to count, Reese found himself cupping Josie’s ears to keep his little sister from hearing jeering crowds calling their dad an old pervert and you a shameless gold-digger. No one’s had to explain what a “sugar daddy” is (or why it's the first thing that auto-populates when you plug ‘Erik Johnson’ into Google), but the burden would’ve fallen on Reese if he hadn’t left her in the car while he ran in to grab a takeout order last summer.

But Erik’s eldest isn’t just worried about his family existing outside the warmth and safety of their insulated bubble. His sleepless nights are filled with fear. Fear of the pain and sadness he’ll undoubtedly feel about it all now that he sees you less as his friend and more as a maternal figure.

Reese’s always been protective; it's led to many a fight with his own father and, sometimes, his own sister. He’s the first to rush to your aid and the strongest force in your defense. The habit, however,  strengthened when his perspective shifted as swiftly as flipping a switch. 

Suddenly, you weren’t just his dad’s girlfriend or the person who made him pancakes in the morning. Or the savior who dropped off his English paper because he was in such a hurry he left it on the printer. You were a confidant, someone he called for when he was in a bad spot or when he wanted to see the latest mind-numbingly bad action flick. When he asked his date to prom, it was you he wanted help from. When Reese was sick, your home remedies worked better than anything store-bought or concocted by his dad. When practice ran over, he could count on you to wait up with his dinner hot and ready, the rest of the house already fast asleep. 

For the first time since he could remember, the Dad-shaped gap wasn’t devastating. It hurt like a bitch, but it was bearable because he had another adult—another parent—he could rely on. In every sense of the word, you were his mom.

And no one wants to hear disgusting lies about their mom.

However, Reese hasn’t called you that yet. At least, not to your face. In passing to his childhood friends or when referring to you with Josie, sure, and once or twice over the phone with Erik, but when he calls for you, he uses your first name like he's still your “nanny-kid.” But it's not for a lack of trying. It’s just that every time he thinks he’s worked up the nerve, the three letters catch in his throat like molasses, and he doesn’t know how to make it stop. 

Moments like those are the rare few he wishes he were Josie instead of himself. His jovial spitfire of a sister never missed a chance. During her lunch block with classmates, on the phone with their extended family, to strangers at Avs games, or on the sidewalk, the moniker slipped off Josie Johnson’s tongue like water down a slide. Their dad liked to poke fun, warning her to be careful so as not to wear it out from overuse.

Maybe it was the sister snuggled in your stomach that tightened his throat. The baby that could and would call you “Mom��� with little effort beyond mastering the string of sound. The baby that would grow up not knowing you as anything besides her mother. It was a shade of ownership Reese felt hesitant to touch. No matter how desperately he yearned to.

The closest he’s come is penning in the title beneath your name on the lanyard that’ll hang from your neck for upcoming festivities. It was a small gesture. Still, it felt like too much and not enough all at once.

Reese is caught between wanting to honor the bond and all you’ve done with the accurate label and the fear of explicitly acknowledging it stirs in his chest. At least in this limbo of sorts, as cumbersome as it's become, Reese can have what he’s always wanted and keep you in his life without risking capsizing the boat with an awkward declaration. It’s an uneasy compromise, but it's the devil he knows. At least he knows what and when to feed it.

Reese hates that he’s letting his worries dictate his life. It's just… hard. No one tells kids how to navigate gaining a new parent or any of the baggage that unique situation carries. No one tells kids how to trust the position’s new occupant not to follow in their predecessor’s footsteps. In his heart, Reese knows you won’t run. But knowing that doesn’t shut down the nagging voice in the back of his mind. The one that drones on like a broken record, telling him that the burden of the word, knotted with his expectations, will be his family’s unraveling.

He couldn’t do that to Josie. To his dad. Or to you and the little sister you’re carrying. 

So, he’ll stomach it. For how long, Reese isn’t sure. But, for now, he’ll stand on the outskirts of the minefield, bidding time.

"Johnson! Your whole family's coming, right?" Kody, a junior defenseman from Fort Collins, yanks Reese from his downward spiral.

The last place he wants to be right now is out in the world. The last thing he needs is to cannonball himself back into the fishbowl. Even if the phantom audience never spoke to him, sometimes their heavy attention pushing into his back was enough to send Reese reeling.

But he made a promise to make more of an effort. To be more social, to have more fun—to take life a little less seriously. 

In his mind, if he was at school to learn and play hockey, there was little room to wiggle. Sure, Reese has had his fair share of adolescent recklessness and could lean toward boyish immaturity at times, but at his core, he was a rule-follower. A responsibility fiend with a penchant for playing the white knight. A stickler for structure. When given the choice between a teenage dream and a full-grown reality, the freshman chose the latter nine times out of ten. 

Reese Johnson’s moral compass weighs down his back pocket; he feels most at peace when things fit neatly into their proper boxes. Good and bad, black and white. One or the other, never both.

Stress and anxiety exacerbate his mental rigidity. And he’s been so fucking far from zen lately.

Reese would’ve broken the stupid promise if it’d been made to anyone besides you. So, when a few of the upperclassmen on the team appeared at his dorm with an invitation to get pizza, he begrudgingly accepted.

It isn’t so bad. Far from awful this far. Definitely not the worst way to spend an evening. His teammates were alright enough guys, and their girlfriends weren’t as callous as he’d expected. Reese just found it hard to connect with them, a situation that couldn’t be more different than his previous team experience. 

With his childhood friends, it all clicked. Fell into place without much real effort from any of them. There was an awkward period, but it ended within the first month and, honestly, had more to do with prepubescent cringe than anything.

An entire semester came and went, and Reese still felt like an outsider. When he looked out onto the ice, he saw a sea of strangers. They had different interests, different priorities. Inside jokes he wasn’t in on. Ones he wasn’t sure he wanted to be in on. Even their sense of decorum was foreign. He was well-acquainted with profanity and vulgar jibes, but Reese’s neck still occasionally heats at their… colorful chirps.

But maybe this will be a good step, Reese thinks to himself as he clears the nerves from his throat, making room for an answer to Kody’s question.

“Uh, yeah. My parents and my little sister,” he nods. The blip of quiet that follows coaxes out further details. “They’re going to skip the mixer-campout thing tomorrow night because of the baby, but they’ll be at the student fair and our scrimmage the next day.”

It feels odd to talk about his family. The words, somehow both intensely personal and casual at the same time, taste funny on his tongue. Reese’s stomach clenches, suddenly too aware that he’s never really had to do this before, the small talk. Back home, everyone knows everyone. There’s little to talk about by way of mundane facts because there’s no need; it would be incredibly redundant. His friends from home wouldn’t think to ask if his family was coming, nor would they nudge him to share their schedule. They’d just know.

Reese is aware that this is a silly thing to get worked up over, or even care about at all. He knows it’s part of the process. Part of making new friends is letting them know you. Telling them about yourself and your life, and all the people in your life. Especially the ones you love. Offering up bits of yourself in exchange for bits of them. Still, it's unsettling. Like he’s inviting a group of strangers to pass judgment on his unconventional family. 

No one’s said anything, but Reese already feels defensive. 

And rightly so, he’d soon find.

"That was quick."

Lane, a senior forward from some beach town in California, draws first blood. The quip seems innocuous, but the shit-eating grin undermines any plausible deniability. Even without his smug expression, they probably would’ve understood the implication lurking below the surface anyway. 

It isn’t the isolated comment that burns the tips of Reese’s ears. It’s the fact that he’s never spoken about the circumstances or the timeline of your relationship with his father. Reese hasn’t tried to hide anything, but he certainly hasn’t been forthcoming either. For all they knew, you could’ve been Josie’s biological mother. A long shot, but feasible enough if you didn't know any better. 

But somehow, this kid from out of state knew. Knew that, by “traditional” standards, it was a little soon for his parents to be welcoming a new life.

"Can you blame him? Hot young thing at your beck and call?” Kent, a sophomore from outside of Toronto, cuts in before Reese can. 

The lecherous glint in the winger’s tone makes his skin crawl. He doesn’t need to look up from his half-eaten slice of Hawaiian to know his mouth matches Lane’s.

“Fuck, dude. I would've knocked her up before she dragged me down the aisle. But, I've heard Viagra massacres your swimmers, so maybe that wasn’t in the cards for Ol’ Johnson.”

The group, crowded around a hodgepodge of tables, descends into a fit of snickers and profanity.

Reese contemplates leaving until a manicured hand gently squeezes his arm. Callahan Graham blinks up at him, a sweet smile tight on her rosy mouth. Callahan “Callie” Graham, Lane’s on-again-off-again girlfriend of three years. They’re “off” right now, if he’s remembering correctly. Not that it matters. She doesn’t say anything, but she doesn’t need to. Reese’s chin dips in gratitude.

From across the table, Callie’s roommate, Greer, pipes up over the commotion. “I hope I'm as cute as she is when I'm pregnant."

"Me too," Bree, one of the other girlfriends, sighs dreamily into her Diet Coke. "I couldn't believe how pretty she looked the last time she brought Josie to watch you play, Reese. If I was pregnant and holding down a two-kid fort by all by myself for most of the year, I know I'd look it. But I guess that’s just another perk of true love, isn’t it? Beauty in spite of it all.”

Kent snorts. “True love…right.”

Reese’s molars pinch together. Beneath the table, he picks at his nails. It hurts, but it's the distraction he needs right now.

"It's not like being a trophy wife is a real job anyway, so I'm sure that helps. Just lie back and spread those pretty—"

Reese’s fist finishes Lane’s sentence. As badly as he wants to put it through the douchebag’s face, he (thankfully) had the foresight to direct his anger downward. It was the succinct thwack! of his hand against the table that cut the lewd thought off prematurely. 

Reese is a striking juxtaposition; hardened jaw, sharp eyes, pinched mouth—silent. Only his chest moves. Shallowly, the accent on the exhalations.

For a moment, everything is still. It’s nice. While it lasts.

Kody is the one to crack the ill-fated stalemate. Trepidation peeking through the tiny cracks in his smooth confidence, he approaches like a hunter would an agitated deer, “Loosen up, Reese. We're just having fun. And, if anything, it's a compliment."

Reese openly glares, unconvinced.

Kody persists, deadset on being the one to subdue the beast. “Come on, even you have to admit your dad's locked down a fuckin’ tenner. A real win for Team Geriatric, I’d say. You should be proud of him, kid.”

This isn’t the first time someone’s prodded Reese about your physical appearance. He wasn’t blind. He knew you were attractive, but you’d never entered that part of his brain before. Ever. It's as if his subconscious preemptively locked you away in the same box as his dad and kid sister, or any other family member. But they weren’t asking if he thought you were pretty, not really.

The omnipresent “They” wanted to know if he thought you were attractive the way he thought Pedro Pascal or Olivia Rodrigo was attractive. They wanted to know if he felt the way his dad felt about you. They’re probing for a twisted scandal, a sick taboo love triangle. As if they weren’t already gorging themselves on the age difference or the boss/employee origin story. 

They wanted more. They always wanted more. They wanted to take one of the best parts about Reese’s life and fuck it up.

His teammates are proving themselves no different than the losers populating Twitter.

“She ever read to you a story before bed?” Lane again.

Then Kent, in quick succession. “Tuck you in nice and tight, and come running when you had a nightmare?”

There’s barely enough time between the two to squeeze in a meager answer. Though Reese surmises that’s by design. 

Innuendos are funnier when they have a single target in the audience to fly over. At least, to people with cheap senses of humor. Easy laughs are no accomplishment when they weaponize the feelings of an innocent bystander. Even in his anger, Reese wouldn’t have humored them with a doe-eyed reply of feigned ignorance. It wasn't earned. 

“If I got to spend all of high school being coddled by a rocket, I'd still be milking that shit. Maybe if you had, she would've fucked you instead of your dad."

Reese’s brow shrinks to a contemptuous pinch. It wouldn’t take much for him to be reacquainted with his dinner; it’s already halfway there. 

As he looks over at Kody, he loses what little hope he had that he’d find a place in this friend group. He hasn’t found his people yet, on the team or in general, but Reese is certain they’re not sitting around him tonight.

"How far along's your mom?" Callie seizes the conversation knowingly.

Briefly, her pale eyes slice pointedly in the direction of her… whatever Lane is to her, and then back to Reese, warmth restored.

"Uh, almost seven months? But Josie and I were both late, so Dad thinks we'll have to wait until the end of summer until she's here. Maybe they’ll share a birthday.”

"She?" one of the freshman girls squeals, clutching her companion’s forearm in excitement.

"Yeah," Reese says bashfully, head dipping to conceal the grin tugging the corners of his mouth. The meat of his cheeks ache with joy. “Two sisters."

"I give Johnson Sr. six months before he puts the moves on Nanny 2.0,” Lane’s whisper pierces the lukewarm calm that settled the table at his… Callie’s hand. 

She kicks his shin. Hard.

"You really think the old timer's game is that reliable?" Kent picks up the slack between open-mouth chews.

And Kody is not far behind, “He's decently famous and moderately rich. That was enough the first time, so why wouldn't it work for the second? Or, Junior, maybe this next one can be yours—if you pull your head out of your ass in time, that is."

Reese is done. Has met—no, exceeded his limit. He doesn’t have to sit here and take this. Yeah, it would be better for the locker-room culture if he stuck around, but a boost in morale wasn’t worth the decimation of his pride.

His goodbye is simple but effective. The deafening screeeeech! of his chair sliding back on the linoleum.

The sidewalk is blurry beneath his feet as he trudges back to safety. Whether it's the tears’ fault or how quickly he’s running, Reese can’t be sure. All he knows is that he needs to be as far away from them as possible.

He needs… he needs…

Reese’s fingers tremble defiantly while he fishes for his phone. He continues to fight with them, shoving his key into the door and pushing it open with the other as he scrolls through the call log. He slams the world out and hits the green icon.

“Reese? Are you okay?” your groggy, but no less sweet voice flits through his phone. 

Only two rings. 

Reese’s shoulders melt, comforted by the familiar warmth of what home sounds like. But his mouth remains frozen, stuck. 

You allow a few beats of silence to lapse, giving him ample space to answer if he is able and wants to before speaking again. “Do we need to come up tonight?”

He blinks, attempting to wash away the salty film over his eyes to read the clock above his desk. 1:37 AM, the angry red letters read. 

Guilt seeps into the mix of nasty emotions monopolizing his body. The acidic cocktail begins its ascent of his tender throat.

You shouldn’t be up right now. Not this late, not when his sister’s made you an insomniac for so much of your pregnancy. Not because someone was mean to him.

Reese feels like an asshole. An inconsiderate asshole bothering you with his problems in the middle of the night, knowing you’re already sacrificing your weekend for him.

“Fuck, I’m sorry for waking you and the baby, and probably Dad, too. I—It's nothing, really. It can wait. We can talk about it when it's not, y’know, the middle of the night.”

“Reese, no one sets off the alarm on my Bullshit Radar faster than you do. You wouldn’t have called if it wasn’t urgent. Talk to me, Reeses Pieces. You know I won’t be able to go back to sleep knowing you’re not alright.”

Reeses Pieces. The nickname, said with such casual affection, is like a magic wand.

“Uh— I-I, um… I had a, um, a r-really bad night… and I— and I just really needed to hear y-your voice, Mom.”

It slips out. Slips free. It just… slips into the mix with all the other words like it belongs there, too. And it does. It feels right. Reese feels a twinge of satisfaction. Regardless of the circumstances (and the night he’s had), it happened.

It finally happened.

The floor crumbles a little and gentle flames lick at Reese’s cheeks. His phone feels as though it's floating up and away from his clammy palm. He’s telling his fingers to tighten their grip, to hold on. They hesitate, and when they finally decide to obey, it only makes matters worse. He fumbles, nearly dropping his phone to the floor. The elephant easing down onto his chest is making it hard to focus, to think, to listen. 

“Reese? Did I lose you, bub?”

He blinks himself out of the daze. “Hmm? No, I—I, sorry. I’m here.”

“Oh, Reesey. I was just saying I was glad you called then. I mean, I always love it when you call. Even when it’s to tell me you sent your Airpods through the washing machine. Again.”

Reese barks out a phlegmy laugh.

Note to self: the rice hack only works the first time you let your electronics go for a swim.

Second note to self: this reaction—this non-reaction is better than any teary blubbering or callous rejection. Normalcy doesn’t require a reaction.

“You can always, always call me. Especially when you’re having a rough time. Even when it's the middle of the night. My main priority in life is making sure you’re safe and happy, you and JoJo. And the peanut sitting on my bladder. And the 6’4 blanket-hog snoring like a hacksaw beside me.”

“Maybe we should get Dad a sleep study coupon for his birthday,” Reese teases.

He feels better now. You, and finally being courageous enough to be vulnerable, was the medicine. Reese feels lighter than he has since you dropped him off in September.

You snort. “I’ll gladly pay to see your dad covered in wires. But, as much as I love laughing at his expense when he’s none-the-wiser, that's not why you called. Spill it.”

He does. The spiel tumbles out like an overdue avalanche, and Reese hardly realizes how quickly he’d been talking until he finishes with burning lungs. You listened patiently, letting him get it all out without interruption. You were good about that, knowing when someone needed room to rant more than they needed interjections with guidance or commentary. Reese usually fell in the first category, tonight being no exception.

“…I just don’t get why they found it so funny. Or why they even thought to say it in the first place. It's so...gross.”

He listens to you sigh and knows you’re doing it through your teeth. You’re probably massaging the waves of frustration between your eyebrows, nose scrunched. Josie calls it your ‘Dragon Face’ because of the way frustration contorts your features, but Reese adopted the term into his own lexicon because it almost always appeared when someone threatened the safety of your family. Like him, you’re generous with your protection. Fierce without delay. 

“Because you aren’t them, Reese. You’ve always had a strong sense of right and wrong, respectful and not. And you’re rarely swept up by group-think, if ever. Those things may feel like a curse right now, but I promise they’ll be superpowers one day.”

“I wish I could fast-forward to that day. This sucks,” he groans, tossing himself backward onto his twin bed.

“It does suck. Majorly. Still, even if you had time travel in your vast arsenal of powers, I’d tell you to stay put, Reese. Part of college is learning how to deal with immature people, building up a tolerance for their bullshit as you grow stronger and more confident in yourself.”

“But I’m not strong. I ran away crying like a little baby,” Reese croaks into his pillow. A warm saltiness tickles his eyelashes.

“You removed yourself from a bad situation, and you let yourself feel your feelings in the present tense. Those are both huge wins in my book,” you counter.

Your voice is louder now, stronger. Like coaxing Reese—coaxing your son out of a pit of self-pity breathed all the energy you lacked for the better part of a year back into you. The subtle shift whittles away some of his earlier guilt.

“It takes guts to do that, Reese. Most people spend years trying to learn what you did instinctively. Some people never learn to do it at all. And don’t tell anyone, but I’d put money on Kody, Lane, and Kent being some people.”

Reese snorts. “I know you’re right, but I think what’s actually bugging me is that you guys’ll be subjected to that shit this weekend. It’s one thing for them to say it to me, but it’s another to say it to you or in front of JoJo. I hate that people care so much about us and our business that they can’t keep their mouths shut. If you don’t feel comfortable coming now, I would totally understand. Fuck, if I were you, I’d never visit again. Maybe I could come home this weekend instead?”

“Reese, as sweet as that is, the only thing that’ll stop me from coming this weekend is early labor, not chauvinist pigs.”

“You shouldn’t even have to hear it, though. And besides, won’t smiting college kids stress the baby out?” Reese asks, worry tearing through his voice despite the lighter tone.

“Do you honestly think your dad will let them get more than a couple words out?” you ask through an airy chuckle.

For the second time tonight, someone else speaks before Reese can.

Erik’s voice is muffled and gravelly, but the protective bite—the very same one that took hold of Reese at dinner and you just moments ago—is loud, “They’ll keep their mouths shut if they want to keep whatever teeth they have left.”

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[penkura]

Special Gift

Summary: Zoro watches your kids while you're out for the day, making sure they don't sneak any peeks at their Christmas gifts under the tree.

Note: So this uses the kids from my OP Men as Dads series, but before the twins are born. Hope you guys enjoy! I'M SORRY IT'S SO LATE, I GOT SO BUSY TODAY.

“I just need you to watch them for a bit while I’m at the doctor, I’ll bring some dinner!”

Your request made Zoro sigh at the time, though he was joking around when he said ‘I guess’ with a roll of his eyes that made you laugh before kissing him. You’ve been together long enough that you know he’s kidding around, he doesn’t mind watching your kids, they’re always good for him and the day usually ends with all three of them taking a nap together. It’s also something you love coming home to, it gives you some quiet to work on a few things if you need to, especially now being pregnant and having to get your house ready for the newest member of your family.

Still though, watching your kids for a few hours is no problem for Zoro. If they need anything they go to him, they’ll convince him to play a game with them or read a children’s book to them, anything to spend any time with their dad. At six and four, Keitaro and Kuina are both bright and active, eagerly awaiting Christmas and the moment they get to open their gifts. You rarely have worry about them acting up bad enough to suggest calling Santa and telling him not to come by, the two are that well behaved for you.

No one believed that was possible with Zoro as their father, but you knew better when you first saw him with your son after he was born. More so when Kuina was born, she had him wrapped around her finger instantly and nothing she does could ever make Zoro upset with her. Keitaro is the same, he doesn’t ever want to get in trouble, he heard you yell once when someone cut you off in traffic and it was enough for him to not want to hear it again. Not like you’d ever yell at him or his sister, you spoil and dote on them too much anyway.

While you’re gone Zoro does what he can to take somethings off your plate, getting you’re kids involved with the laundry or sweeping floors, while he tries to knock out the dishes for you (Sanji never believes you when you tell him this is a common thing in your house). Eventually, he hears the sound of something being shaken from your living room, before little voices start talking and he has to keep himself from laughing too loud.

“Umm…I think it’s a puzzle?”

“A puzzle!”

“It’s yours, Kuina!”

She nearly squeals at the mention of it being her gift, Zoro walks in just in time to see her grab one and start shaking it, trying to figure out what it is by sound alone too. He’s sure they won’t start trying to open anything early, you trust them enough to leave the gifts out a few days before Christmas, but he’s going to watch then just to be safe. If anything they’ll just shake a gift that isn’t theirs and hopefully not break anything. They probably won’t even find the gifts you made to announce your pregnancy or just think it’s a random toy.

He still can’t believe there’s going to be a third one this time next year, even after you planned it all.

“Hey now,” they both almost jump hearing Zoro speak up, him smirking a bit since they were starting to get a little too close to looking in gift bags, “Don’t be peeking, you won’t have any surprises.”

“Daddy!”

Keitaro pouts a little but moves back to sitting on the floor while Kuina gets up and runs to Zoro, having him lift her up to his shoulders. Once she’s there and giggling, Zoro crouches down by Keitaro and ruffle this hair, making him whine.

“Looking for something?”

“No…”

“Mommy said there’s a special gift for us!”

“Kuina!”

She’s confused why Keitaro didn’t want her to say anything, but it just makes Zoro laugh a bit. You’re not giving them any more information than that, they’ll have to wait, but he can’t blame them for being curious. It’s only a couple more days until they learn what it is, he’s sure they’ll keep trying to sneak in and take a peek at their gifts until they figure it out themselves.

“Come on, leave the gifts alone for now, okay?” Zoro pats Keitaro’s head again before standing up and nodding to the kitchen, “Mom will be back soon, let’s get something to eat.”

They both complain a little, since they’re so curious about whatever this special gift is, but they still agree and go to the kitchen with Zoro.

A couple more days before things change, Zoro will enjoy these moments of having just two kids, before it turns to three and things get even more hectic than they already are. He’s looking forward to it though, he’s rather have a busy life than a boring one anyway.

[epicbuddieficrecs]

Weekly Recap | April 1st-7th 2024

MERRY WEEWOO EPISODE DAY!!! I had a fucking terrible stream so I feel like I missed like 90% of buddie's scenes.

No thoughts, head empty, so happy to FINALLY be done with this long ass recap 😆 my ao3 history is very much still fucked. Oh well. Also gonna have to make a separate post for the podfics cause the rec was getting too long, tumblr couldn't handle it 😂

There's a couple of new people in here and maybe some people who have changed URLs, so if you know someone who's not tagged, please tag them in the comments!

Love your tags, comments, reblogs, everything! <3 My ao3 inbox is being SUBMERGED with fics, it's the best problem to have 😂

Complete

I can finally breathe by wikiangela/ @wikiangela (S7E4 Coda, BuckTommy | <1K | General); Buck's oh moment when Tommy kisses him.

and with each one, i'm a little more free series by honestlydarkprincess/ @honestlydarkprincess (Post-S7E4, Coming Out):

oh, bi the way (<1K | General): Buck comes out to Maddie. whenever you're ready (<1K | General): Buck comes out to Bobby. welcome to the club (<1K | General): Buck comes out to Hen.

rebirth by renecdote/ @renecdote (S7E4 Coda | <1K | General): “Bisexual,” he says aloud, just to hear himself say it, to taste the way it feels on his tongue not just as a word but as an identity. It feels like an exhalation, trembling at the edges but not just with fear, or excitement, but with relief. Buck knows what it is like to be reborn, but he has never had a kiss make him feel like this before.

whenever you're ready by honestlydarkprincess (Post S7E4 Spec, Coming Out | <1K | General): Buck comes out to Bobby.

I won't tell no lie by lamardeuse/ @lamardeuse (Post S7E4 Spec, Tommy POV | 1K | Teen): Tommy can't exactly say he's surprised when he opens his door on a Sunday morning to see Hen Wilson standing there. He just wishes he'd thought to put on a cup first because he has a feeling he's about to get kicked in the nuts.

An End Has a Start by eirabach/ @eirabach (S7E4 Coda, Tommy POV, Tommy&Lucy | 1K | Teen): Tommy is one minute late. Hell of a minute, though.

tell me that i'm all you want (even when i break your heart) by diazchristopher/ @captain-hen (S7E4 Coda | 1K | General): “What’s going on?” “You tell me,” Eddie says, gently. “Buck mentioned you were being a little…odd.” To his surprise, Chris scowls. “I bet he did,” Chris mumbles, scoffing, half-under his breath. Eddie stares at him, taken aback. “Chris? What does that—” “I want you to tell him to leave.” or; buck, christopher and eddie in the aftermath of 7x04.

Sleepy Call by Tizniz/ @tizniz (Pre-Buddie, Fluff | 1K | General): OR: Eddie takes an early morning call.

to loosen his grip by glorious_spoon/ @glorious-spoon (S7E4 Spec | 1K | Teen): Eddie's not stupid, and Buck's about as subtle as a brick to the face on a good day. Speculation for 7x04: Buck, Bothered and Bewildered.

babbling brook to nowhere by fallingthorns/ @fallingthorns (S7E5 Spec | 1K | Teen): Eddie has not stopped talking since they left the restaurant. He thinks that he kind of blacked out during the actual dinner, because he’s not really sure what actually was discussed or how they even ended up sitting next to Buck and Tommy. But as soon as they got back into the truck, it was like the dam breaking loose. “I mean, it’s so great,” Eddie says once they’re back in his bedroom, as he takes his shirt off in the closet. He’s not even paying attention as Marisol perches on the edge of his bed. “They’re two of my friends, it’s awesome.” He’s happy for Buck, because Buck deserves to be with someone who gets him and will love him like he deserves. He just . . . “Is Tommy too tall for him?” Eddie asks. “Like, they’re the same height.”

my heart is working overtime by lecornergirl/ @clusterbuck (S7E4 Coda | 1K | Teen): He reaches for his phone again, then freezes halfway through his contacts when he realises he can’t call anyone to talk through this. Maddie would kill him for telling her something like this over the phone. For—coming out, he supposes, trying the words on for size. That’s something he does now. As— He hadn’t really stopped to consider it until now. Bisexual, he thinks, experimental, and it settles somewhere deep inside of him, like there’s been a space waiting for it all along.

“Pops, I’m bisexual.” “Hi bisexual, I’m Pops.” by Maximoff_Wanda (Post-S7E4, Coming Out | 1,4K | Not Rated): Or: Buck comes out to Bobby.

every little thing the sun shows, well it’s worth it by wafflesofdoom/ @capseycartwright (Post S7E4 | 1,6K | Not Rated): after his kiss with Tommy, Buck goes to Hen.

pythagoras made some points by crimsonclad (S7E4, BuckTommy | 1,6K | Not Rated): Look for the helpers! Sometimes they are all trying very hard to help each other be gay in the correct configurations and doing their best, mostly. Tommy takes Eddie to Urgent Care, takes him home, and carries a message elsewhere in the city of Los Angeles.

Buck's Boyfriends by Tizniz (Buck/Tommy/Eddie | 1,7K | Teen): He’s too drunk to figure out the logistics right now. “I think I’ve been dating both of you.” OR: The one where Buck realizes he's dating Tommy and Eddie.

smile at me like you smile at him by honestlydarkprincess/ @honestlydarkprincess (S7E4 Spec, Getting Together | 1,8K | Teen): Buck hadn’t planned on doing anything to show his displeasure at the sudden friendship between Eddie and Tommy, despite the fact that it sent hot, furious jealousy coursing through his veins. Really, he hadn’t. It’s just…well, he was just going for the ball during their basketball game…unfortunately Eddie happened to get pushed out of the way in order for Buck to get said ball.

only need the light when it's burning low by fallingthorns (Post-S7E4 | 2K | Teen): Buck blinks and realizes that he could love Tommy, if he didn't already love Eddie.

you've ruined my life (by not being mine) by ummrys (S7E4 Spec | 2K | Teen): Or, Buck gets a little (a lot) jealous of Eddie's blossoming friendship with Tommy Kinard, and makes some bad decisions about it.

detours by oklahoma/ @sunshinediaz (Post-S7E4, 2K | Teen): “Take a detour,” he says, instead. “There’s construction on Sunset.” “Maybe one of these days there won’t be,” Buck says, smiles, and takes his leave. - Eddie and Buck have a talk. They somehow say everything and nothing at all.

Every Night I Come to You by giselleslash/ @gigi-gigi (S5, Love Confessions | 2K | General): Eddie has another sleepless night, but Buck is there. He'll always be there.

Family Feud: First Responders by Princessfbi/ @princessfbi (Secret Relationship | 3K | General): The FireFam go on Family Feud.

Right In Front of Me by Princessfbi (S7E5 Spec, BuckTommy | 3K | General): Tommy’s brows knitted together as his mouth turned down with worry. “Evan,” he said and Buck wanted to hear him call his name so many more times. “What happened? Did someone choke you?” “That’s what I was trying to tell you,” Buck said, clearing his throat again when his voice gave an embarrassing squeak.

inescapable (i’m not even gonna try) by buddiebuddie/ @buddie-buddie (BuckTommy, PWP, Post-S7E4 | 3K | Explicit): From that first press of Tommy’s lips against his— the moment when the pieces slid into place and something bloomed in Buck’s chest and hummed in his veins— he felt good, and grounded, and settled in a way he never had before. It’s been a few weeks, and the newness has worn off but the excitement hasn’t. The hunger hasn’t.

I would be lying if I said I'm not dying to worship you by Daughter_of_Scotland (Post-S7E4 | 3K | Explicit): Buck and Tommy have their first date. This is how it ends. (It ends really, REALLY well)

somethin' tells me you know why i lie by lecornergirl/ @clusterbuck (Madney Wedding Spec, BuckTommy | 3K | Teen): OR: buck brings tommy to the madney wedding. eddie is absolutely, definitively not jealous.

Never Saw It Coming...Or Did He? by Tizniz (PWP, Daddy/Mommy Kink | 3K | Explicit): Unable to deny his boyfriend anything, Eddie does. And his jaw promptly falls to the floor. Because Buck is standing there with that goddamn basketball under his shirt again. The clothing is stretched tightly over the round of what Eddie’s mind pretends is Buck’s belly. Pregnant belly. OR: The one where Eddie is 'Daddy' and Buck is 'Mommy'

sunbeam that hits at three to noon by fleetinghearts/ @shitouttabuck (Madney Wedding, Getting Together | 3K | Teen): or, having multiple wedding reservations under the same name was an accident waiting to happen and buck’s just trying not to jumpscare his best friend with the rather intense bridal suite decor in their very platonically shared hotel room

as lucky as us by hammersmiths/ @bucktommys (S7E4, Ravi POV | 3K | General): One of the first things Ravi learned when joining the 118 was to, under no circumstances, think too hard about Buck and Eddie’s relationship. But brother, they could try make his job easier.

soothe the ache in me by honestlydarkprincess/ @honestlydarkprincess (S7E4 Spec | 3K | Teen): Or, the one where Buck gets a headache while trying to take care of Eddie and Chris after Eddie's injury.

i'm a fine baby mama (but you knew that though) by colonoscopys (S7E4 | 4K | Teen): Look—Buck’s not jealous, per say. He’s just a little confused as to how you can spend the past five years being best friends with someone, and then find someone new to replace him in the span of a couple of playdates.

You’re too Sweet For Me by Garden_Haunter (Buck Coming Out, Post S7E4 | 4K | Teen): Tommy kisses Buck, and it tastes like freedom. (Or: Buck comes out to different members of his family.)

Nightcap by Inell (S7E5 Spec, PWP | 4K | Explicit): After their first date goes a bit astray, Buck invites Tommy to his loft for a nightcap. 

some things fall when they're meant to fall by sibylsleaves/ @sibylsleaves (S7E5 Spec | 4K | Teen): or, Buck tells Eddie some news. Eddie has a realization and breaks up with his girlfriend. Not necessarily in that order.

before you painted all my nights by heartbeatdiaz/ @loserdiaz (Canon Divergent, Getting Together | 5K | Explicit): In hindsight, maybe jerking off to a LAFD Calendar when Eddie was well on his way to become a firefighter himself… might not have been the best idea. He never really thought about the possibility of actually crossing paths with the person that's been starring every wildest dream and filthy fantasy of his.

’til storm breaks loose by markofalover/ @markofalover (S7E4 Spec | 6K | Explicit): He squeezes Buck’s bare, sun warmed skin before he drops the contact, and strolls over to where Chim and Tommy are waiting. If he stands a little too close to his teammate, well. He’ll never admit it. Buck comes back into his line of vision, already back to looking like he’s a second away from stomping off the court. Eddie’s giddy with it. …or, how an elbow to the face changes everything.

the art of making love. by dylaesthetics (Rommates, Getting Together | 6K | Teen): OR Buck’s loft gets flooded, making him temporarily move in with Eddie, who’s out and about dating guys now, apparently, and Buck tries to figure out why the hell the thought makes him sick.

no more mistakes, no more empty starts. by dylaesthetics (S7E5 Spec, Feelings Realization | 7K | Teen): Throughout his life, Buck has felt that something’s been missing. Some integral part of who he is, outside firefighting, outside the family he has built for himself, outside the trauma that keeps on piling up and overburdening his shelves. He doesn’t expect to find it in the dimness of his loft’s kitchen one Tuesday evening, the taste of a man still on his lips and his cologne lingering in the air, sweet and honest and real.

ain't no lie (bi bi bi) by 42hrb/ @exhuastedpigeon (S7E4 Spec, Eddie/Tommy | 8K | Explicit): Eddie fools around with Tommy, Buck is jealous, Tommy's just trying to have a good time

skin/heat/hair in your mouth by fleetinghearts (Getting Together | 8K | Explicit): or, eddie’s bad at camping, buck’s trying to make sure he doesn’t get hypothermia, and naked huddling for warmth is only like the third gayest thing happening in the great outdoors

now our love lives in the radio by heartbeatdiaz / @loserdiaz (University AU | 9K | Explicit): buck is the host of a college radio show and eddie has a big fat crush on him, what else can i say? featuring cinderella references and a bunch of himbos from buck's football team. 

teach me how to dance with you by goodboybuck (prettyboybuckley)/ @prettyboybuckley (BuckTommy, PWP | 9K | Explicit): OR: Buck explores the wonders of gay sex (slowly, with a really patient, sweet Tommy guiding the way and while having a lot of fun)

the mouth is the thing that craves by Underhung_Aura (Established Buddie, PWP | 11K | Explicit): eddie loves buck and he really love buck's cock

when i think about you (i touch myself) by glorious_spoon/ @glorious-spoon (PWP, Getting Together | 12K | Explicit): Or: the one where Eddie stumbles across Buck's old amateur porn, prompting a series of belated realizations on both their parts.

honey, when you call my name by HungryHungryHippo/ @hippolotamus (Post S5E11 | 12K |Explicit): Eddie witnesses the Buck/Lucy kiss, has himself a little panic, and decides to do something about it when Buck does his Buck thing and won't stop pushing Eddie's buttons 

🔥 of men and of angels by extasiswings/ @extasiswings (Eddie Sexuality Crisis, Getting Together | 13K | Teen): Eddie Diaz learns a lot as a kid. Boys aren’t soft. Boys don’t cry. Boys don’t kiss boys. As he gets older, he realizes that everything has exceptions. Boys can be soft sometimes. Boys can cry sometimes. And some boys kiss other boys. But Eddie likes kissing girls. And since he likes kissing girls, that’s the end of the story. Isn’t it?

🔥 what humans do by brewrosemilk/ @gayhoediaz (Getting Together, PWP | 18K | Explicit): "…and the thought that she had just escaped death by such a narrow margin made me realize the intensity of my feelings toward her.” Eddie swallows. “‘What’s the matter?’ I couldn’t tell her, so I kissed her instead,” Buck goes on, and since Eddie’s eyes are focused on the page, they drift ahead a little bit, and the next few lines have him swallowing once again, taking his hand back to brace himself against the mattress as he slowly starts to push himself up to sit. “Kissing is what humans do when words have reached a place they can’t escape from. It is a switch to another language. The kiss was an act of defiance, maybe of war. You can’t touch us, is what the kiss said. ‘I love you,’ I told her, and as I smelled her skin, I knew I had never wanted anyone or anything more than I wanted her…” Buck trails off when Eddie reaches for the book, gently luring it out of his grasp. 

WIP

🔥 Any Other Way by Daisies_and_Briars/ @cal-daisies-and-briars (Canon Divergent, S2 | 6/18 | 37K | Mature): In a switcheroo alternate universe, Buck spends young adulthood in the military, while Eddie, who has no idea Christopher exists, spends his twenties messing around, finally enjoying freedom away from his family’s expectations. When they both end up in Los Angeles, at the 118, some things are different, and others will be the same in any universe.

Both Bermuda and Golden (Lost but Doing Just Fine) by letmetellyouaboutmyfeels/ @letmetellyouaboutmyfeels (PWP, Threesome, BuckTommyEddie | 4/6 | 20K | Explicit): In which everyone has two hands and two holes and is keeping their options fluid. (Or: a collection of threesome fics.)

Fifteen First Kisses by tinygiantsam/ @watchyourbuck (Getting Together | 2/15 | 3K | Mature): Why would you have only one first kiss when you could have fifteen This is a collection of 15 different first kisses between Buck and Eddie.