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fayes-fics · 8 months ago

Text

Textual Encounter

Pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x fem!reader, modern AU

Summary: Text fic. Wrong number meet-cute over text.

Warnings: none... this is fluff and humour.

Word Count: 1.4k

Summary: Fic request fill for Anon (HERE). I kept it fun and fluffy, but yeah, I can see a sequel where they sext. Thanks to @colettebronte for the read-through. Enjoy! <3

Y/N: Hey Liz, it’s y/n y/l/n. Kindle Spa gave me your mobile. Said you had moved to another salon. I don’t trust anyone else to wax me tbh. Big date this week, kwim 😉 Can I get an appt? I’ll come to you. Doesn’t matter where.

BB: Errr, I think you have the wrong number…

Y/N: Not Liz?

BB: Nope, Ben here.

Y/N: Not a waxer, I presume?

BB: I may have waxed lyrical in my time, may even have lit a few candles. Have not waxed anyone no - my own body or anyone else’s. Yet. But I’m game to try anything once...

Y/N: Lol.

BB: Big date, eh?

Y/N: ….Yeah. Not that it's any of your business, stranger Ben.

BB: Fair. BB: Does it hurt?

Y/N: ??

BB: Getting waxed.

Y/N: Oh. Yeah. Like a motherfucker. But you sorta get used to it, tbh. And it’s so much less itchy than shaving regrowth, especially in sensitive areas… Wait, why am I having this convo with a complete stranger?!

BB: We don’t have to be strangers. BB: I’m Ben, 33, London. BB: I have no strong opinions on hair removal methods.

Y/N: lol. K. I’m y/n, 28, also London. Y/N: I, as you can see, do have some opinions.

BB: Hi y/n 👋 BB: I hope you can find Liz. Or someone else to assist with your hair needs.

Y/N: I would like it stated, for the record, I’m not hairy like a troll. I just like to keep things neat.

BB: The lady doth protest too much…

Y/N: You are cheeky for a stranger.

BB: Hey, I thought we agreed. Not strangers. Me Ben. You hairy troll.

Y/N: BLOCK.

BB: Just typing it doesn't work, you know.

Y/N: You should work at the Apple Genius Bar.

BB: Hmm, possibly. I do look good in blue. Or so I've been told.

Y/N: Always glad to provide career counselling.

BB: 🫡

4 days later.

BB: How’d your date go?

Y/N: That's odd. I don’t see a Genius Bar appt in my calendar…?

BB: iCal is a lying bastard. BB: I also assume you now can move faster through water.

Y/N: ??

BB: Waxed smooth like a dolphin…?

Y/N: 😆 Y/N: Entirely none of your business, but yes, actually. Well mostly. I leave some. Why am I telling you this?! Y/N: The guy was such a dud tho, I didn't get to show it off 🙁

BB: Please don't stop on my account. This is just delightful. BB: I apologise on behalf of all men.

Y/N: For what?

BB: Having 4 sisters, I find the safest answer here is usually… everything, of course. BB: But specifically, your rubbish date.

Y/N: Apology conditionally accepted. Y/N: 4 sisters?!

BB: Only conditional? What do I gots to do to make it unconditional? BB: Yeah, I know… I’ve got 3 brothers too. My parents were really into each other.

Y/N: IDK, serve a mean martini? Y/N: Understatement.

BB: That could be arranged. I took an online mixology course during lockdown. BB: My sister El declared I'm better than Stanley Tucci. Admittedly, that was after 4 espresso martinis… but I'm taking it. She's opinionated but the best one. They are a weird bunch tho 🤔

Y/N: WOAH WOAH WOAH. That's a bold claim.

BB: Well, there’s only one way to dispute it: try one for yourself…

Y/N: Smooth, Genius Bar, smooth.

BB: I do my best 🤷

1 day later.

Y/N: I can't get my AirPods to work.

BB: You do realise I didn’t actually follow your career advice?

Y/N: Urgh. Inconvenient. What use are you then?

BB: As I said. Cocktails. I’ll try my hand at waxing if you want.

Y/N: Best stick to the day job. Which is…?

BB: Graphic design.

Y/N: Oh, that’s quite cool.

BB: It pays the bills. You?

Y/N: MI-5

BB: Wow, you're a shit spy.

Y/N: It could be an excellent double bluff…

BB:

Y/N: Oh, we’ve graduated to memes now, have we, Genius Bar?

BB: It was called for.

Y/N: I’ll take it. Purely cos it's a Hemsworth.

BB: I would too, tbh.

Y/N: Bi?

BB: For a Hemsworth? Always.

Y/N: Anyone else?

BB: I’ll keep you posted.

Y/N: I'm on the edge of my seat.

3 days later.

BB: Oscar Issac.

Y/N: Good non sequitur evening to you, too, Genius Bar Ben.

BB: For the bi thing.

Y/N: Ahh. Got it. I can respect that.

BB: This is me, btw: www.instagram.com/benbridgerdesign. BB: Figured you can decide for yourself if I'm a creeper.

Y/N: Appreciated.

3 minutes later.

Y/N: You paint?

BB: I dabble

Y/N: Modesty will only make me like you more.

BB: You like me?! 🥹

Y/N: You didn't mention you were handsome.

BB: There is no way to respond to that without me sounding like a twat.

BB: But thank you 😊

Y/N: This is me: www.instagram.com/ynhandle

7 minutes later.

BB: Oh, Amalfi is so beautiful, isn't it?

Y/N: Wow. That's a deep cut. How far did you scroll back??

BB: 👀

Y/N: Yeah, it's beautiful. Shame it's tainted for me now. Was there with an ex.

BB: I saw. Very handsome.

Y/N: Are you sure you're not just into men full-stop?

BB: 🤷 BB: You’re very pretty, too.

Y/N: I’d believe it if you didn't mention my “very handsome” ex first…

BB: I call it like I see it. BB: I have had 4 whiskeys, tho, so make of that what you will.

Y/N: On a school night?!

BB: It’s my brother Ant's birthday. This is like non-optional drunk, I’ll have you know.

Y/N: Happy birthday to him.

BB: He says thanks. He’s also told me to get off my fucking phone. Which is rich. He is texting his wife nonstop.

Y/N: Hah! Safe travels through Whiskeytown, BenBridger 🫡

BB: I kinda miss Genius Bar…. 😞

Y/N: I can't win…

2 days later.

BB: Settle an argument for me.

Y/N: 🍿

BB: Col, younger brother, never stops eating... He claims Katz Deli is overrated. I argue it's touristy but still good. You’ve been. Where do you sit on this matter?

Y/N: You really did go thru my Insta, didn't you?? Y/N: Thanks for the follow, BTW.

BB: It's a compliment, I assure you. BB: Welcome. And same.

Y/N: Not complaining. And yeah, I agree with you, actually.

BB: Hah! Excellent!!

Y/N: Wait… your older brother is Ant, and your younger brother is Col? You’re Ben. So, like ABC?

BB: … I already warned you my family was weird.

Y/N: You did. You did.

BB: Now, please excuse me while I go gloat.

Y/N: 👍

5 mins later.

BB: Hi. This is Col. You must be the famous y/n. Ben’s in the bogs, and the mug left his phone on the table unlocked, so this is on him. BB: He like really likes you. Like a lot. Will you go on a date with him pls?

Y/N: Err, ok, hi Col. Y/N: Umm, I think Ben should be the one to ask me that. Don’t you?

BB: He’s too scared you’ll say no.

Y/N: I won't…

BB: EXCELLENT.

2 minutes later.

BB: I am so SO sorry about that 😬 He’s such a shit. BB: But… do you mean it?

Y/N: Ask me properly…

BB: Would you, y/n, like to go on a date with me? Please?

Y/N: I would be delighted to Ben. 😀

BB: 🙏 BB: Are you free on Thursday? Could I take you to dinner?

Y/N: Sounds wonderful.

BB: 7pm? Meet at Picadilly Circus? By Brasserie Zedel?

Y/N: I’ll be there 😀

BB: 😀

10 days later.

BB: I think you should know… Liz is an artiste 😮‍💨

Y/N: Stop texting me from my bed, you dork. 😘 Y/N: How do you take your coffee?

BB: I'm like 10 meters away. Why not just ask me?

Y/N: You started this, Genius Bar…

BB: Come back to bed, Mostly Hairless Troll.

Y/N: I asked for that, didn't I? 🤦

Benedict taglist, pt 1: @makaylan @longingintheuniverse @iboopedyournose @aintnuthinbutahounddog @severewobblerlightdragon @writergirl-2001 @heeyyyou @enichole445 @enchantedbytomandhenry @ambitionspassionscoffee @chaoticcalzoneranchsports @nikaprincessofkattegat @baebee35 @crowleysqueenofhell @fiction-is-life @lilacbeesworld @broooookiecrisp @queen-of-the-misfit-toys @eleanor-bradstreet @divaanya @musicismyoxygen84 @miindfucked @sorryallonsy @cayt0123 @hottytoddyhistory @fictionalmenloversblog @zinzysstuff @malpalgalz @kinokomoonshine @causeimissu @delehosies @m-rae23 @last-sheep @panhoeofmanyfandoms @kmc1989 @desert-fern @corpseoftrees-queen @magical-spit @bunnyweasley23 @how-many-stars-in-the-sky @sya-skies

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mostlysignssomeportents · 1 year ago

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Housing is a labor issue

There's a reason Reagan declared war on unions before he declared war on everything else – environmental protection, health care, consumer rights, financial regulation. Unions are how working people fight for a better world for all of us. They're how everyday people come together to resist oligarchy, extraction and exploitation.

Take the 2019 LA teachers' strike. As Jane McAlevey writes in A Collective Bargain, the LA teachers didn't just win higher pay for their members! They also demanded (and got) an end to immigration sweeps of parents waiting for their kids at the school gate; a guarantee of green space near every public school in the city; and on-site immigration counselors in LA schools:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/04/23/a-collective-bargain/

Unionization is enjoying an historic renaissance. The Hot Labor Summer transitioned to an Eternal Labor September, and it's still going strong, with UAW president Shawn Fain celebrating his members victory over the Big Three automakers by calling for a 2028 general strike:

https://www.teenvogue.com/story/uaw-general-strike-no-class

The rising labor movement has powerful allies in the Biden Administration. NLRB general counsel Jennifer Abruzzo is systematically gutting the "union avoidance" playbook. She's banned the use of temp-work app blacklists that force workers to cross picket lines:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/07/30/computer-says-scab/#instawork

She's changed the penalty for bosses who violate labor law during union drives. It used to be the boss would pay a fine, which was an easy price to pay in exchange for killing your workers' union. Now, the penalty is automatic recognition of the union:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/09/06/goons-ginks-and-company-finks/#if-blood-be-the-price-of-your-cursed-wealth

And while the law doesn't allow Abruzzo to impose a contract on companies that refuse to bargain their unions, she's set to force those companies to honor other employers' union contracts until they agree to a contract with their own workers:

https://onlabor.org/gc-abruzzo-just-asked-the-nlrb-to-overturn-ex-cell-o-heres-why-that-matters/

She's also nuking TRAPs, the deals that force workers to repay their employers for their "training expenses" if they have the audacity to quit and get a better job somewhere else:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/09/14/prop-22-never-again/#norms-code-laws-markets

(As with every aspect of the Biden White House, its labor policy is contradictory and self-defeating, with other Biden appointees working to smash worker power, including when Biden broke the railworkers' strike:)

https://pluralistic.net/2023/09/18/co-determination/#now-make-me-do-it

A surging labor movement opens up all kinds of possibilities for a better world. Writing for the Law and Political Economy Project, UNITE Here attorney Zoe Tucker makes the case for unions as a way out of America's brutal housing crisis:

https://lpeproject.org/blog/why-unions-should-join-the-housing-fight/

She describes how low-waged LA hotel workers have been pushed out of neighborhoods close to their jobs, with UNITE Here members commuting three hours in each direction, starting their work-days at 3AM in order to clock in on time:

https://twitter.com/MorePerfectUS/status/1669088899769987079

UNITE Here members are striking against 50 hotels in LA and Orange County, and their demands include significant cost-of-living raises. But more money won't give them back the time they give up to those bruising daily commutes. For that, unions need to make housing itself a demand.

As Tucker writes, most workers are tenants and vice-versa. What's more, bad landlords are apt to be bad bosses, too. Stepan Kazaryan, the same guy who owns the strip club whose conditions were so bad that it prompted the creation of Equity Strippers NoHo, the first strippers' union in a generation, is also a shitty landlord whose tenants went on a rent-strike:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/05/20/the-missing-links/#plunderphonics

So it was only natural that Kazaryan's tenants walked the picket line with the Equity Stripper Noho workers:

https://twitter.com/glendaletenants/status/1733290276599570736?s=46

While scumbag bosses/evil landlords like Kazaryan deal out misery retail, one apartment building at a time, the wholesale destruction of workers' lives comes from private equity giants who are the most prolific source of TRAPs, robo-scabbing apps, illegal union busting, and indefinite contract delays – and these are the very same PE firms that are buying up millions of single-family homes and turning them into slums:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/02/08/wall-street-landlords/#the-new-slumlords

Tucker's point is that when a worker clocks out of their bad job, commutes home for three hours, and gets back to their black-mold-saturated, overpriced apartment to find a notice of a new junk fee (like a surcharge for paying your rent in cash, by check, or by direct payment), they're fighting the very same corporations.

Unions who defend their workers' right to shelter do every tenant a service. A coalition of LA unions succeeded in passing Measure ULA, which uses a surcharge on real estate transactions over $5m to fund "the largest municipal housing program in the country":

https://unitedtohousela.com/app/uploads/2022/05/LA_City_Affordable_Housing_Petition_H.pdf

LA unions are fighting for rules to limit Airbnbs and other platforms that transform the city's rental stock into illegal, unlicensed hotels:

https://upgo.lab.mcgill.ca/publication/strs-in-los-angeles-2022/Wachsmuth_LA_2022.pdf

And the hotel workers organized under UNITE Here are fighting their own employers: the hoteliers who are aggressively buying up residences, evicting their long-term tenants, tearing down the building and putting up a luxury hotel. They got LA council to pass a law requiring hotels to build new housing to replace any residences they displace:

https://www.latimes.com/california/story/2023-11-28/airbnb-operators-would-need-police-permit-in-l-a-under-proposed-law

UNITE Here is bargaining for a per-room hotel surcharge to fund housing specifically for hotel workers, so the people who change the sheets and clean the toilets don't have to waste six hours a day commuting to do so.

Labor unions and tenant unions have a long history of collaboration in the USA. NYC's first housing coop was midwifed by the Amalgamated Clothing Workers of America in 1927. The Penn South coop was created by the International Ladies Garment Workers’ Union. The 1949 Federal Housing Act passed after American unions pushed hard for it:

http://www.peterdreier.com/wp-content/uploads/2014/07/Labors-Love-Lost.pdf

It goes both ways. Strong unions can create sound housing – and precarious housing makes unions weaker. Remember during the Hollywood writers' strike, when an anonymous studio ghoul told the press the plans was to "allow things to drag on until union members start losing their apartments and losing their houses?"

Vienna has the most successful housing in any major city in the world. It's the city where people of every income and background live in comfort without being rent-burdened and without worry about eviction, mold, or leaks. That's the legacy of Red Vienna, the Austrian period of Social Democratic Workers' Party rule and built vast tracts of high-quality public housing. The system was so robust that it rebounded after World War II and continues to this day:

https://www.politico.eu/article/vienna-social-housing-architecture-austria-stigma/

Today, the rest of the world is mired in a terrible housing crisis. It's not merely that the rent's too damned high (though it is) – housing precarity is driving dangerous political instability:

https://pluralistic.net/2021/06/06/the-rents-too-damned-high/

Turning the human necessity of shelter into a market commodity is a failure. The economic orthodoxy that insists that public housing, rent control, and high-density zoning will lead to less housing has failed. rent control works:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/05/16/mortgages-are-rent-control/#housing-is-a-human-right-not-an-asset

Leaving housing to the market only produces losers. If you have the bad luck to invest everything you have into a home in a city that contracts, you're wiped out. If you have the bad luck into invest everything into a home in a "superstar city" where prices go up, you also lose, because your city becomes uninhabitable and your children can't afford to live there:

https://pluralistic.net/2021/09/27/lethal-dysfunction/#yimby

A strong labor movement is the best chance we have for breaking the housing deadlock. And housing is just for starters. Labor is the key to opening every frozen-in-place dysfunction. Take care work: the aging, increasingly chronically ill American population is being tortured and murdered by private equity hospices, long-term care facilities and health services that have been rolled up by the same private equity firms that destroyed work and housing:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/04/26/death-panels/#what-the-heck-is-going-on-with-CMS

In her interview with Capital & Main's Jessica Goodheart, National Domestic Workers Alliance president Ai-jen Poo describes how making things better for care workers will make things better for everyone:

https://prospect.org/labor/2023-12-13-labor-leader-ai-jen-poo-interview/

Care work is a "triple dignity investment": first, it makes life better for the worker (most often a woman of color), then, it allows family members of people who need care to move into higher paid work; and of course, it makes life better for people who need care: "It delivers human potential and agency. It delivers a future workforce. It delivers quality of life."

The failure to fund care work is a massive driver of inequality. America's sole federal public provision for care is Medicaid, which only kicks in after a family it totally impoverished. Funding care with tax increases polls high with both Democrats and Republicans, making it good politics:

https://www.dataforprogress.org/blog/2021/4/7/voters-support-investing-in-the-care-economy

Congress stripped many of the care provisions from Build Back Better, missing a chance for an "unprecedented, transformational investment in care." But the administrative agencies picked up where Congress failed, following a detailed executive order that identifies existing, previously unused powers to improve care in America. The EO "expands access to care, supports family caregivers and improves wages and conditions for the workforce":

https://www.whitehouse.gov/briefing-room/presidential-actions/2023/04/18/executive-order-on-increasing-access-to-high-quality-care-and-supporting-caregivers/

States are also filling the void. Washington just created a long-term care benefit:

https://apnews.com/article/washington-long-term-care-tax-disability-cb54b04b025223dbdba7199db1d254e4

New Mexicans passed a ballot initiative that establishes permanent funding for child care:

https://www.cwla.org/new-mexico-votes-for-child-care/

New York care workers won a $3/hour across the board raise:

https://inequality.org/great-divide/new-york-budget-fair-pay-home-care/

The fight is being led by women of color, and they're kicking ass – and they're doing it through their unions. Worker power is the foundation that we build a better world upon, and it's surging.

If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/12/13/i-want-a-roof-over-my-head/#and-bread-on-the-table

#pluralistic #labor #hot labor summer #eternal labor september #jane mcalevey #los angeles #weaponized shelter #housing #airbnb #equity strip noho #tenants unions #red vienna #jennifer abruzzo #nlrb #the rent's too damned high

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amjustagirl · 10 months ago

Text

title: to rebuild a home pairing: kuroo x f! reader genre: angst / fluff, post timeskip! wc: 6.8k m.list

a/n: companion piece to the original love knows not its depth, from kuroo's perspective.

Kuroo Tetsuro is doing alright.

He’s deftly juggling the roles life has handed him. His tenth wedding anniversary is coming up. He’s gotten a nice pair of earrings and a reservation at Tokyo’s hottest omakase for you to celebrate. The girls are doing nicely at school - Aiko’s grades are excellent, and Fumiko’s not gotten into any schoolyard fights unlike Bokuto’s trio of sons. His bosses seem happy with him too, paving the way for him to climb the corporate ladder rung by rung. He’s earned each promotion by burning days in the office, nights in the izakayas schmoozing with his bosses, but it’s worth it, even if it admittedly comes at the expense of being with you and the girls.

It’s a sacrifice he has to make so he can provide you with the fairytale life he’s always promised you. Not that you’ve ever complained about the trade-off.

“She’s the best wife and mom I could’ve asked for”, he tells Kenma, when the former setter asks about you. “I don’t know how she does it.”

Kenma frowns. “You make her sound like a video game character.”

“That’s cos she’s amazing -”

“Kinda sucks that she pretty much has to juggle a full time job and the kids on her own most of the time.”

“She manages perfectly well”, Kuroo enthuses, oblivious to the barb in his friend’s words. “By the time I get home, the girls are in bed, the house is clean, and there’s even a lunch box packed for me each day. She’s a rockstar at work too - should be up for a promotion next financial year.”

“Huh”, Kenma sniffs. “I wonder when she gets a break.”

Kuroo’s too distracted by the round of beers that’s delivered to his table to think deeply about his best friend’s apprehension. When he stumbles through the front door that night, he finds you crouched over the coffee table, frantically typing at your laptop. As expected, the girls are in bed, there’s nothing out of place.

“All good?” he asks you in passing, his mind already filing the tasks on his plate for tomorrow - organising a publicity event jointly held by the JVA and Bouncing Ball Corporation to introduce new national team members, reviewing the proposed budget for this year’s international competitions, popping by the under-19 team to see if there are indeed any promising candidates - he’s already one foot in the bedroom, ready to call it a night.

He doesn’t notice the violets blooming under your eyes.

“Mm.” You don’t look up. “Have a good night.”

Kruoo Tetsuro thinks he’s doing alright.

Bokuto Kotaro, for some reason, doesn’t think so. “Mitsuki said you’re lucky you’re not married to her cos she’ll skin you alive”, he informs him, as if Kuroo shares his love for women capable of chomping his head off in one bite.

Maybe the Bokutos operate on a different metric - because yes, they’re the model of egalitarianism with Mitsuki the high powered general counsel for Kenma’s Bouncing Ball Corporation (based on his referral, he likes to add, cos’ it’s funny to watch Mitsuki growl) and Kotaro the part time coach, full time stay at home dad to his wolfpack of sons, but that doesn’t mean his marriage is on the rocks.

As a child, he was the unwitting witness to his parents’ fights, which culminated in his mother walking out of the door, his father crying over a thick stack of divorce papers. His grandparents took him in, gave him stability and love and comfort but he swore to himself he’s never going to put his daughters through that.

Sure, it’s been a while since you’ve had a night to yourself. The last time he remembers you taking time away from the girls was to go out for dinner with him to celebrate his latest promotion - his conscience stings a little that he can’t remember the last time you’ve taken a break from everything you’ve been doing for him and the girls, but he’ll make it up to you once he has time. You always understand.

Still, just to be sure, he checks in on you again.

“You alright?”, he reaches for your hand, when he climbs into bed that night.

You’re lying in bed. He should find it odd that you’re still awake at this time of the night, staring up at the ceiling as if there’s something to be found there, but he falls asleep in the slow seconds, doesn't hear your response. When he wakes, you’ve already taken the girls to school. He gets himself ready for work, loops his tie around his neck, grabs his briefcase and the bento you’ve so lovingly packed for him, and hops on the train. He runs through his routine like clockwork, but there’s a niggling feeling that he’s missed something important, possibly something to do with you.

Did you say something to him last night?

It doesn’t matter. He makes a mental note to purchase a spa day for you - but that’s promptly forgotten when he’s greeted by a flood of emails and an invitation from his boss to go out for drinks that night.

Kuroo still thinks he’s doing alright.

“You’re lucky”, his boss toasts him. “Your wife doesn’t complain like mine when I go out drinking, even though I tell her I need to do it for work.”

“She’s an angel”, Kuroo replies, quietly bursting with pride. “Never complains.”

“Lucky man”, his boss says. “My wife is such a nag.”

He misses the last train home that night, drops you a text not to wait up and stumbles around Shibuya trying to find a cab. It must be a busy night because by the time he manages to flag down one, it’s three a.m. and his head is pounding from the excess of alcohol and lack of solid food and water. He fumbles with his keys, almost falls through his front door when the lock gives way. “Tadaima”, he says out of habit, too-loudly, before his stomach lurches and he has to make a mad dash for the kitchen sink.

“Tetsuro?”

He wants to respond, but he’s too busy emptying out the contents of his stomach. He shouldn’t have woken you up. He shouldn’t greet you with a mess for you to clean up. He shouldn’t lean so heavily on you that you stagger beneath his weight.

He shouldn’t do all of that yet he does so anyway. You tuck him, a grown man, into bed.

Tomorrow, he’ll apologise. Tomorrow, he’ll make it up to you.

Tomorrow comes. He wakes up.

You’re gone.

Kuroo Tetsuro is not alright.

He’s ashamed to admit that he doesn’t even notice you’ve taken off until it’s way past lunch when your mother drops him a text to ask if he’s picking up the girls or if he intends to leave them with her overnight.

“What d’you mean?” he texts her, confused.

His heart stops when your mother responds to say you dropped off the girls at her place without much of an explanation, an overnight bag slung over your shoulder. You don’t pick up your phones, his calls going straight to voicemail. For the first time in forever, he sheepishly asks his boss for urgent leave from work so he can rush home to figure out what’s going on.

You always take your laptop with you, but it’s sitting at home. He knows it’s an invasion of privacy, but he types in your password (his birthday), and your web browser reveals a booking for a ryokan in Hakone, where the both of you honeymooned almost a decade ago. It’s an hour away by train, far too much time for him to sit and stew in his thoughts. He wonders if you’ve become sick of your life with him, whether you’ve found someone new, and by the time he’s reached the ryokan and charmed the receptionist to let him into your room, he’s teetering on the edge of giving into his frustration, entertaining thoughts about yelling at you for being so goddamned irresponsible, cos how could you just walk out on him and the girls -

Until you walk in, thankfully alone.

It strikes him that it’s the most refreshed he’s seen you look in a very, very long time. Your cheeks are glowing, your eyes sparkle, and there’s a spring in your step that he hasn’t seen since you’ve had the girls.

Still, he can’t help but remain a little peeved. “I’ve been calling you all afternoon”, he informs you. “I was worried.”

He immediately regrets his words as he watches the light die in your eyes.

“Were you?”, you ask, as if you were addressing a stranger. “Really?”

“Of course”, he frowns, slowly getting up to approach you, concerned when you start to sway. “You’re my wife and the mother of our girls, of course I care.”

Laughter spills from your lips, an undercurrent of bitterness and contempt that’s threatening to drag you under before his very eyes. “If you really cared, you’d have noticed that your wife is broken”, you tell him between gasps, your shoulders caving in. “I tried fixing myself with a break, but you can’t even give me that.”

He’s starting to realise that things aren’t alright at all. You flinch when he takes a step towards you, an action which stabs him clean through his heart because he’s your husband, your Tetsuro, your person. Tea, then, a neutral offering that manages to calm you down enough to take a seat, even if you’re still shaking, falling to pieces while laughing, laughing -

“Tell me what’s wrong”, he begs. “Tell me what I can do to fix you.”

You take a sip of tea. It’s hot enough to burn you, but you don’t seem to notice.

“I can’t do this anymore, Tetsuro.”

“Don’t say that”, he snaps, his inner child recoiling because he can’t bear to have his girls go through what he went through, wondering if it was his fault, his very existence that caused his parents to split up. “The girls and I need you -”

You don’t seem to hear him.

“Princess”, he falls back on his pet name for you, rusty from lack of use. “Come back to me.”

You’re unmoved, your eyes unseeing, deaf to his pleas. Sip after sip, you gulp down scalding tea, each action jerky, mechanical. Frozen, in an impenetrable placidness that he can’t read. You’re sitting right in front of him but you’re not really there at all.

“Let’s talk when you’re back home”, he finally says. “Have a good break.”

The immature little boy that still lives in his psyche is still unconvinced that it’s a bad idea to drag you back home with him posthaste, but you asked for a break, and it’s the least he can give to you.

You allow him to roll out your futon for you, to swaddle you in layers of blankets as if that would keep you from falling apart any further. As he kisses your forehead to bid you goodnight and goodbye, he feels the brittleness of your bones, the thinness of your skin beneath his palms and he spends the hour-long train ride home wondering how he managed to look away long enough for you to turn into a shadow of your past self.

He goes straight to your mother’s house to retrieve the girls. As penance, he stands at the front door, head bowed, letting your mother yell at him in front of the neighbours for being a useless husband and an irresponsible father. After all, he deserves every word she flings in his face. He’s just thankful that she doesn’t ream him out in front of the girls.

“Where’s mama?” Fumiko mumbles half asleep into his neck. “Want mama.”

He cradles her closer. “She’ll be home tomorrow”, he tells her, hoping with every fibre of his being that that does not turn out to be a lie. Aiko, older and wiser, just stays quiet, so he forces a smile on his face for her sake.

Kuroo Tetsuro is far from okay.

The strain of the day wears on him and he’s sure there are burning emails in his inbox for him to firefight, but there’s a long list of chores to be done in your absence. The girls’ school bags need to be packed (in the case of five year old Fumiko) or checked (for ten year old Aiko), their uniforms to be laid out, the laundry sorted and folded. He barely gets any sleep before he has to hop out of bed to throw together a cold breakfast of milk and cereal that makes Fumiko burst into tears and Aiko’s face droops. By the time he shuffles his two cranky children out of the house and into their respective schools, he’s late for work.

He meets Bokuto and Kenma for lunch since there’s no lunch bento waiting for him in the fridge, though he regrets the decision to leave the refuge of his work desk for the boardroom of Bouncing Ball Corporation when Mitsuki joins them and, sharp-eyed as ever, sinks her talons into him.

“You look like shit”, she says to him as a greeting.

“Thanks”, he grounds out. The girls demanded he work their hair into the neat braids they insisted you always do, so bedhead would have to do for him today.

“I’ve never seen you without hair gel before”, Bokuto marvels. “You look weird.”

“I had a crap morning, okay”, he snaps, biting the head off the karaage fish in his store bought bento, which he resents for tasting worse than those you usually make for him. “So I’m sorry if I look slightly less than presentable -”

“You look like a man whose wife just left him - “

Mitsuki’s just stepped right on the wound he’s tried to keep hidden, festering and bleeding beneath his skin, so like an animal lashing out when it’s hurt, Kuroo slaps the table with both palms and snarls.

“Don’t - don’t fucking say that, okay? She’s just taking a break. She’ll come home.”

He can’t stand to see the shock and pity on his closest friends’ faces. “She’s coming home today”, he repeats softly, almost to himself, as if he’s little Fumiko in need of reassurance that the person she needs most in the world hasn’t just abandoned her. “It’s gonna be okay.”

Perhaps it’s the maturity that comes with fatherhood, because Bokuto is the first to react. “That’s right, you’re gonna be okay”, he soothes, pulling Kuroo into his seat. “Kenma’s gonna call your boss and tell him that you’re gonna spend the rest of the afternoon here to plan some event - “

“Sponsorship for the Under-19 team, done”, Kenma snaps his phone shut.

“Guys, I’m fine - ”

“Pretending everything’s okay isn’t going to help.”

Kuroo deflates. “Thanks, Kenma.”

Shelving his worthless pride to lay bare the situation he’s found himself in, that by neglecting his duties as a husband and father, he’s forced you to the brink of a mental breakdown, bad enough that you’ve left him - temporarily, he hopes. In the span of a few hours, he’s already found himself at his wit’s end, struggling to handle both the demands of the kids and his job, something that he realises he’s left you to bear, alone.

“But I can’t figure out why she didn’t just tell me she was feeling overwhelmed”, he says, pulling at a fraying thread in his shirt. “I would’ve listened. I would’ve done better.”

“She shouldn’t have to tell you to do your part”, Mitsuki waves away Bokuto’s desperate gesture for her not to kick a man when he’s already down.

“But I didn’t know -”

“Y’know, I really can’t stand men like you. You guys are amazing at work, able to anticipate your bosses’ and clients’ needs. At this point, you don’t even need to be told by your bosses to jump, you don’t even ask your clients ‘how high’ - yet, for some reason, you manage to turn off your brain the minute you walk in through the front door at home.”

“Maybe I should ask her for a list of things I can help her with -”

Bokuto claps his hand over Mitsuki’s mouth. “Ehhh..you might not wanna finish your sentence or Mitsuki might really bite your head off.”

Kuroo winces, snapping his mouth shut.

“Maybe you can think of it in a different way”, Bokuto says. “Instead of ‘helping’ her - cos that’s just placing the mental burden on her - at least, I think that’s the term Mitsuki-chan used when she explained it to me -” the affronted lawyer nods begrudgingly, and beaming, he continues - “you gotta do your half of the work!”

“Level up”, Kenma provides, rather unhelpfully.

“Open your eyes and use your brain”, Mitsuki says bluntly, rolling her eyes, though her tone is less sharp.

“Where do I start?” Kuroo asks.

Step one.

He picks the girls up from his mother in law’s place, bears with the lecture that’s awaiting him, and sheepishly asks them what their mama usually feeds them for dinner and breakfast, making a mental note of it. Tonight, he’ll cheat by feeding them gyudon at Sukiya, but he drops by the supermarket to procure the ingredients he needs for tomorrow’s breakfast and a bouquet of pink roses, even though he knows it’s probably too little, too late. He counts himself lucky that Fumiko loves bathtime, only needing supervision to wash and dry her hair, and Aiko’s responsible enough to work through her homework without prompting, but he’s still exhausted by the time they both head to bed.

His job doesn’t end there. Running through the checklist Mitsuki begrudgingly allowed Bokuto to give him, he surveys the apartment, comparing it against the mental image of how everything was before you left it. Toys scattered, to be put back in place. Dust on floor, to be vacuumed up. A heap of laundry in the basket, to be hung, dried, ironed.

Just as he finishes all these tasks, the front door swing opens.

“Tadaima”, you call out, voice hushed.

He nearly trips over his feet in his haste to relieve you of your luggage, usher you into a seat by the kitchen counter. “Okaerie”, he breathes,

“The girls?” you ask.

He’ll buy Bokuto lunch next time. “I picked them up from your mom”, he responds. “Don’t wake them up, I just put them to bed.”

You peek into their rooms nonetheless. “Thanks”, you say, heading next to the fridge. “By the way, I’ll pay you back for the hotel room from my own money, don’t worry.”

That’s the last thing on his mind. Besides, his sin is being a neglectful husband, not a miser. “It’s fine, I’ll cover it”, he scratches his head, embarrassed that you’re even bringing it up. “I should’ve realised you needed a break.”

That makes you frown, but you accept anyway. He watches you stack bread, eggs, ham, cheese, and it strikes him that you’re already worrying about the girls’ breakfast when you look as if you haven’t even had your own dinner.

“You haven’t had dinner?” he asks.

You reply carelessly that you’ve had a bento on the train back. You don’t even bother to look at him.

“I’ll take the girls in the mornings from now”, he tells you. “Sleep in and take a break.”

That gets your attention.

“Really?”

He plasters a confident smirk on his face to reassure you that he’s got it all in hand.

“Oh”, you’re adorable when you’re confused, but he hates that he’s given you reason to doubt him. “Wake me up if you need my help?”

“I won’t”, he promises.

It’s time for him to level up.

Step two.

He’s not going to lie to himself that he finds it difficult to do even half of what you used to do. Taking over the responsibility of wrangling the girls out of bed and into school, coming home early enough for dinner with you, that requires him to have hard conversations with his boss about not being able to go out for drinks or come in early anymore which probably hurts his chances for his next promotion, forces him to give up an hour or two of sleep, but it’s worth it if it allows you to heal.

“Don’t expect a gold star for your efforts”, Mitsuki warned him. “It’s just what you should’ve been doing before, so it’s time for you to go above and beyond.”

He takes her words to heart. You deserve to go to work well-rested, to wind down at night with a hot bath. He’ll buy a robot vacuum and pour over its manual that’s thicker than a textbook, do laundry loads while hopping on and off conference calls, wrestle the iron to press down his own shirts.

You seem baffled by the sudden shift in the winds, but he just pretends everything is normal. Business as usual. Things are just as they should’ve been.

In his next push to right his wrongs, he organises a Saturday dinner date with you. The girls are packed off with your mother, he makes the reservation, books the cab, compliments your dress. He asks you about your work (tiring), your boss (a micro-manager), the books you’ve read recently (nada, zilch). In the uphill battle to keep the conversation from being stilted, he makes a fatal mistake.

“We can make it work if you want to quit your job and stay home full time with the children.”

In his mind, that was a reasonable suggestion to make since you seem to hate your job and boss with a fiery passion. But you stare at him wide-eyed, your initial confusion hardening into anger.

“Did the guys at work tell you it’s easier to have a housewife instead of a working wife? Are you saying this because you don’t think I’m a good enough mother to our girls?”

You don’t give him a chance to backpedal, shooting a sarcastic apology for being selfish enough to refuse to be reliant on him, so he just slumps back in his chair in defeat.

“I just want you to be happy”, he murmurs. “Forget I ever said that.”

Step three.

To figure out step three, he schedules an emergency lunch meeting on Monday. The troops convene in Kenma’s boardroom to listen to his sorry tale with Mitsuki in charge of the post–battle analysis.

“And remind me again, where did you two meet?”

His face lights up at the memory of his first meeting with you. “Finance 102”, he replies. “We used to be academic rivals turned teammates after I convinced her I was smart enough for her to work with on projects.”

“What made you fall in love with her?”

“As much as I hate it, I have to admit she’s probably smarter than me”, he says, though the fond smile that creeps onto his face betrays the fact that he loves that about you. “She’s just - her, she’s headstrong and funny. Did I tell you how she tried to stab me with her fork when I stole food off her plate -”

“Only a million times”, Kenma interjects.

“She’s always been independent and ambitious, with big dreams and an even bigger heart.”

“Well”, Mitsuki says, adopting the mildest tone she’s used on him this month. “Does that sound like a woman who’d choose to stay home and depend on her husband? Not that there’s anything wrong with being a stay-at-home parent - Koutaro makes my career possible, and I’m the luckiest woman in the world to have him as my husband.”

“Babyyyyy.” Bokuto bawls, looking at MItsuki as if she hangs the moon in the sky.

Gross. Kenma seems to agree. “Let’s get back to Kuroo’s failing marriage”,

“So I shouldn’t bring up the suggestion that she quit her job again?”

His three person council shake their heads in unison. “Just keep what you’re doing”, Bokuto pipes up. “Sounds like you’re already doing the right things! Just gotta keep making sure she’s not holding up the sky herself.”

He can do that.

“And maybe talk to her?”, Kenma offers.

That’s the suggestion that he wants to dismiss right off the bat because he’s too much of a coward to even face the possibility that you might leave him. He doesn’t want to become his dad so he resolves to keep his head down and continue pushing ahead with his efforts to prove to you that he can be the husband you deserve, so you won’t wake up one day and decide to walk out on him again.

But his subconscious fears force his nightmares into overdrive. Dreams of packed bags and stacks of divorce papers makes him yelp loud enough for you to roll over and shake him awake. He’s a terrible husband for disturbing your sleep, but in his sleep-dazed state of confusion he just sinks back into the pillow, exhaling a sigh of relief.

“Thank the gods you haven’t left.”

“Why would I leave?”, you mumble, turning away again. “It’s my home, isn’t it.”

He sits up, rubs the nightmares away from his eyes. “I was afraid you left me.”

The silence nearly suffocates him. The sudden need to know exactly where you stand eats away at him and he crawls towards you. “Are you going to leave me”, he asks, praying to all the gods in the universe that you’ll reassure him otherwise.

His heart breaks anew when he hears a small sob, buried in the bedclothes. “I don’t know, Tetsuro”, you finally say. “I’m tired of being alone in a marriage when it’s supposed to be us working together.”

“I’m sorry.” There’s nothing much he can say.

A broken whisper. “I’m tired”, you exhale. “I think I deserve better.”

“I’ll make it better”, he promises.

He will. He will.

Kuroo Tetsuro is trying his best.

He takes a cooking class on the weekends to learn how to prepare bento boxes that are nutritious and easy on the wallet. He takes over the ferrying of Fumiko to her swimming lessons, work on Aiko’s art projects with her. He hires a part time cleaner to pick up the deep cleaning, so you and he have time to take the girls out on weekend outings instead of spending all day on a week’s worth of cumulated chores. A dishwasher appears in the house. He makes it a game for he and the girls to load and unload dishware each night.

“There’s a networking wine night for finance next Wednesday”, he tells you casually. “I’ll make sure to be home so you can go, if you want.”

You goggle at him.

“Go schmooze so the world knows you’re as amazing as I know you are.”

You trust him enough to leave the girls behind in his care and go. He counts that as a win.

Some nights he still can’t get home in time for dinner, but he always makes sure he’s home in time for a bedtime story and a goodnight kiss. Aiko avers that at the grand old age of ten, she doesn’t need her papa to tuck her to bed anymore, but she sidles into Fumiko’s room everynight and sits in the corner of her little sister’s bed as the littler girl listens to his tall tales.

“I met a princess when I was eighteen”, he says with a grin when he notices you listening in. “Instead of a crown, she armed herself with a fork, ready to cut down anyone who’d cross her.”

His heart skips a beat when he hears your voice from the doorway. “Don’t be dramatic”, you interrupt, a small smile growing on your face. “You were trying to steal my food and didn’t stop ‘til I stabbed you.”

Fumiko huffs, unhappy that her story’s being interrupted, but he can’t seem to tear his gaze away from you. “You left it on the table, princess. I consider that fair game.”

“Let ‘to-san tell the story, ka’san.” Aiko grumbles.

He savours your laughter. It tastes better than the finest wine.

“I can’t believe I have to fly all the way to Italy just to meet Kageyama-kun”, he huffs. “At least Hinata is meeting us there, I’ll revolt if I had to go up to Brazil as well.”

“You know it can’t be helped”, you reply. “The promotional activities planned need your presence, and it’s only for a week.”

“Will you be okay when I’m gone?”

His fears melt away when you hand him his suitcase, a flask of his favourite tea. “I’ve always managed fine. Nothing’s changed.”

His little monsters, realising that he’s about to leave, decide to launch a synchronised attack on him. Aiko throws herself at him in a bear hug. Fumiko yanks at his sleeve demanding a thousand kisses.

“Yes, well. I’ll be home soon. Please wait for me” he says to you when the girls finally release him. The expression on your face is unreadable, but you don’t pull away when he takes the liberty of taking your hand in his.

He feels your heartbeat accelerates. You glance up at him, almost shy. “I’ll see you soon.”

He’s so tempted to call his boss and pretend that he’s too ill to get on that damned flight, but he’s pretty sure that would get him fired. Instead, he calls you and the girls every day, and brings home a luggage full of presents for all of you.

When he’s home, he celebrates by putting on the frilliest pink apron he’s ever seen (courtesy of Yaku, who sent it to him all the way from Moscow as a joke) and throwing an elaborate takoyaki party, replete with customised toppings - octopus, cheese and shrimp, which the girls enjoyed even if he burnt the first batch and had to call Fukunaga frantically for tips to rescue the rest. It turns out to be such a success that he makes it a weekly event. Okonomiyaki is next, which he flips with expert confidence on a hot plate to the applause of you and the girls.

“Itadakimasu”, you clap your hands together. “It tastes good.”

He nearly melts into his pan. “Thank you”, he replies. “It means a lot, coming from you.”

His nights are still plagued by nightmares.

Things are better with you, he likes to think. The violets beneath your eyes are replaced by roses in your cheeks. He hears you humming about the house again. You pick up reading again, the shelves in the house start to groan under the weight of books belonging to the girls and you. You’re as eager as the girls to go on the next adventure, whether it be a summer night out in the park with sparklers, or a nerf gun battle at home on rainy days.

Still, he doesn’t know for sure what he’s doing is enough for you and he’s too much of a coward to check. So he’ll wake up almost every night, fumble in the dark just to make sure you’re there.

You’re there, until you aren’t.

It’s three in the morning. The space beside him is cold and empty.

He throws off the blankets, trips on his bed slippers. He crashes through into the living room and oh, there you are - sitting at the dining table, typing furiously at your laptop while mouthing off to yourself about the ridiculous demands your client makes.

“What’s wrong?” you frown.

He walks towards you, trying to discern that you’re real, you’re there, not some trick of the light..

“You’re - you’re still here.”

You nod slowly, eyeing him strangely. “My boss called and asked me to send out an urgent email. I was just about to go back to bed.”

He exhales, tries to force his trembling heart back into his chest. He thinks he’s doing a good job trying to act nonchalant, smoothing back his frazzled mane of hair, but you see right through him as you always do.

“Tetsuro”, you say slowly. “Is everything alright?

The truth tumbles out of his mouth. “I thought you were gone.”

Then he hangs his head, looks at his feet, afraid that he’ll only see rejection in your eyes. He’s a pathetic failure of a husband who has a decade’s worth of sins to make up for, and there’s no justification for him to selfishly to seek your absolution.

It comes anyway, in the form of soft hands pulling him forward.

“I’m here”, you say, pulling him into your embrace, letting him rest his heavy head in your lap.

He doesn’t allow himself to sink into your warmth. “Are you happier now? Are things better for you?”

“Yes”, he hears you say. The tension he’s been carrying around these few months lifts. “Thank you, Tetsuro. I appreciate it. I really do. You don’t have to work yourself to death - that’s never what I was asking for. If you’re tired -”

He shakes his head at your suggestion. He’s got a long way yet before he earns any reprieve.

“Tetsuro -”

He sits up abruptly, takes your hands in his.

“Promise you won’t leave me”, he pleads. “I know you’ve had to carry what must’ve felt like the weight of the entire world on your own, and I don’t have any excuse for that.”

“You don’t”, you agree.

He accepts the blow but he takes comfort that you don’t pull away. “I know that now. I know now how fucking hard it was to do it all alone.”

“It was hard. It was so, so hard, Tetsuro. I became numb to the pain. I don’t think I was functioning, I haven’t been for a while. For a long, long while.”

“I’m sorry”, his voice cracks.

“I know.” You cup his face in your hands, offers him comfort he doesn’t deserve. “That’s a chapter of our marriage that’s past, that can’t be unwritten. But the past few months have been different. You’ve shown me that you’ve changed.”

The first glimmer of sunlight after a long, dark winter. Hope blooms with your smile.

“I think”, you say. “I think we can make this work again.”

He stares at you, dumbstruck. Then the fact that you’re giving him another chance dawns upon him, and he crashes forward to rest his head on your shoulder, unashamed to cry tears of relief.

“Thank you”, he exhales brokenly. “I won’t fuck this up again, I promise.”

You press a kiss to his forehead, curl up trustingly in his arms. “Don’t thank me”, you laugh. “Thank yourself for making me believe in you.”

He drinks up each drop of your affection, falls asleep in the cradle of your arms.

“Is this what flirting is like?”

He wakes up to Aiko’s impertinent question, her hands on hips looking distinctly unimpressed at finding her parents asleep on the sofa, entwined together.

“Who taught you that word?” Kuroo asks, aghast that his ten year old daughter even recognises the existence of the opposite gender.

Aiko sticks her tongue at him, and he’s too distracted by Fumiko taking a flying leap onto the sofa with them, chattering a thousand miles an hour about what’s for breakfast and whether they can go to the zoo this afternoon - though he pins his suspicions on Bokuto’s trio of sons.

“Monsters”, he says. “Can’t even give your to-san a break to snuggle up to your pretty ka’san.”

The girls shriek in dismay - Aiko, at being a witness to further gross displays of affection between her parents, Fumiko, at being called a monster despite being a self-proclaimed princess. You prod at the soft flesh between his ribs.

“Don’t be mean”, you admonish him.

He sniffs, taking the chance to draw you closer. “I’m cranky in the mornings unless I get a morning kiss.”

You snort, swatting at him. “You make it sound as if kisses contain caffeine.”

The girls giggle, but he protests.

“Full of nonsense”, you tease, but you kiss him, again and again and again.

Things settle into a steady, sustainable pace.

You refuse to allow him to bear the weight of the household on his back alone. There are frank conversations to be had about what each of you can realistically handle without burning out. He leads the charge in the mornings, whipping up breakfast with the aid of his two sous chefs, building an expertise in braiding and french twists that could possibly allow him to moonlight as a hairstylist. You, on the other hand, take charge of evening pick-ups, cooking dinners, supervising homework and art projects until he comes home and tags you out.

Chores are evenly split. He doesn’t allow you to assume the mental load of organising the household by yourself. “We both have a degree in business management”, he likes to remind you, because he now knows that remembering to run errands, scheduling appointments - all of this is work too.

You force him to take breaks. If you get to relax with your friends, so should he. “If you get too stressed, you’ll lose your hair and we can’t have that.” He yelps when he imagines himself bald and obediently complies when you call Kenma up, talk him into getting him and Bokuto and Akaashi (when he’s feeling less morose about his singlehood) to go for a round of pick up volleyball. “I’m glad you enjoyed yourself”, you note wryly when he returns home crowing about how he stuffed an Olympic player with a kill block.

“I did”, he replies, catching your hips to pull you in, cheekily ignoring your complaints that he’s sweaty. “But I enjoy coming home to you even more.”

“Gross”, you grumble, but you seem content to remain in his arms.

It’s another small moment he treasures. Life, he learns, is made of moments, both big and small. He’d made the mistake of only focusing on the big ones - graduation, playing at nationals, the day he was lucky enough to marry you, each of his daughter’s birthdays. Now, though, he cherishes each moment, each second he has with you and the girls, no matter how little, no matter how small.

He likes to come into the bathroom each night, leaning his elbow on the edge of the bathtub as you chat to him about your day, luxuriating in the bath he drew for you. You and he take turns to complain about life’s inconveniences as you clear emails once the girls have gone off to bed- colleagues who shirk their work, bosses who nitpick overmuch, washing everything down with steaming cups of herbal tea.

“Are you happy?”, he asks you, night after night.

“Mm”, you say with an impish grin. “I’d be happier if you let me put my toes on your calves.”

“They’re freezing”, he groans but scoots over anyway. “Better?”

“Much better”, you hum, content. “Life is good.”

He’s not remiss in planning the big moments too.

A year passes quickly to your wedding anniversary. He packs your suitcase, books the train tickets and whisks you back to the ryokan in Hakone, though this time he upgrades you both to their largest suite. “I feel like a princess!” you exclaim, twirling about the room.

Your happiness is worth every yen he spent.

You spend the day strolling down avenues lined with cherry blossoms, Mount Fuji looming in the backdrop, the evening exchanging heated kisses in the private onsen he booked. You’re older now, with laughter lines creased into your forehead, grey streaks in your hair, but you’re still the same girl he fell in love with all those years ago.

“And you couldn’t wait ‘til we got back to our room?” you smack him.

He also loves how there’s fire burning bright in your eyes, the way it always used to. “You kissed me first!”

“You kissed me second!”

“I don’t hear you complaining”, he cackles.

You try to shush him, to no avail, as he draws the attention of everyone around him.

“What a happy couple”, an obaa-san remarks out loud. “They must be newlyweds.”

Well, she’s not wrong. You’re as radiant as you were fifteen years ago, his spring bride, but he’s an old man doddering on, hopefully with his edges sanded off with time. “Just your regular old, married couple”, he chortles when you’re safely back in the room.

“A happily married couple”, you reply, serenely sipping your tea. “That obaa-san definitely got that part right.”

There’s a lump in his throat that he can’t swallow. “Are you happy?” he manages to ask anyway.

“With you?” Your smile is warm, bright. Always.”

Both of you are doing alright.

a/n: it's been a while, hasn't it. i've been alright - how are you guys doing?

#kuroo x you #kuroo x reader #kuroo testuro #haikyuu angst #haikyuu fluff

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comfortless · 10 months ago

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Everything you write leaves me breathless <333

Sorry in advance for my English

I was thinking about König, (maybe in an ancient rome/Greek settling) being so alone and desperate for connection that he turns to religion: one day he's walking in the woods, deep in thought, when he finds an abandoned temple. The inside is small but lavish, with a life sized statue of what must be its goddess. He sees this lovely sculpture, abandoned and alone and sees himself in her. He becomes a dedicated, fanatic and soso lovestruck worshipper. Unknownly to him his goddess, woken by his prayers, has been watching him and listening to him. One day while he's praying in front of her her statue moves and talks and now his deity is in front of him. Looks like he has an opportunity to worship her like she deserves ;)

granting you ten million kissies for this prompt and your sweet words! your English is perfect, little wisp! <3 also… giving me an excuse to write more loner/loner and mutual worship?! you have spoken to my heart…

content/warnings: 18+. minors do not interact. historical/myth au; vague time period, brief mentions of violence, fluff, pining, not very explicit smut, mutual worship.

The spirit of the temple feels disorienting, though the architecture is a still, white marble, the floor riddled with leaves and dirt, creeping up the sides of the building as if river water had washed the entire thing ashore… Something feels very alive here, feathered out on the air, a pulse of thunder, the breeze beneath dove’s wings, enthused and yawning. Hungry.

It only becomes more apparent the closer he steps to the statue.

She is unlike any he has ever seen before, carved with the same skill, but so much smaller than the other statues in their temples, so much more lifelike that he almost thinks to greet her. She’s been painted unlike most, a perfect vision bathed in color where she stands out amidst the sea of white and green surrounding her. The temple has not been stained with blood, no offering strewn before her bare feet, left for the rot or dragged away by the dainty hands of this very goddess. No maidens sit in prayer, no men lower there swords to her…

There’s nothing to tell him just who she is, either.

Despite his better judgment, his hand does find her side, a swift draw up from the vision of her thigh peeking from her robe upward to curl over her hip. Her beauty is unmatched, impossible to describe and the call seems almost tangible, shrieking at him in whispers to bend a knee and let her in. So, he does. He prays to her in the silence, alternating between whispers and his own thoughts.

He tells her of his struggles: a soldier brought in from a small tribe up north, robbed from his parents as a boy, how all he knew now were the Roman ways yet could rarely comprehend their customs and deities. Maybe she could offer him some counsel or solace…? Make the weight of his blade feel less heavy as he struck down men that could very well be his own brothers? Give him something to return to when old wounds reopened and he bled, hurt with no one but himself to tend to his heart or his injuries.

The goddess only blesses him with silence: the wind does not pick up outside, there is no disembodied laughter, no sudden thought of an offering or new words to speak to her. She is void of an answer just as the very temple she waits inside is empty of all else.

This does not dissuade him from returning.

Returning to the city after another battle some months later, his first thought is to return to her, to leave the things he’s taken from dead men at her feet, to paint the temple with the blood lingering on his weapon. There is honey, wine, meat and jewelry made of stones from the sea. There is brittle, dried flakes of blood polished from his blade and left to settle onto the floor like the leaves of late autumn. He presents these things to her with a grin, thinking that assuredly this goddess would call back to him then, grant him with a love so consuming that all of the evasion and emptiness cursed upon him would be untwined.

He kneels before her statue, presses his cheek to her thigh, sighs content at the feel of cold marble against the ever-burning of his flesh, gazes up at her like an adoring dog.

Assuredly, if this temple were built for a being that did exist at all she would know just how she was all that this lonesome soldier had, would know the way that he loved her and waited with bated breath and heartstrings pulled taut for her to love him in turn. A greedy, begging muzzle that utters his prayers, words he’s never spoken to anyone whether deity or mortal, only to her in the quiet of the forest.

It’s not madness that provokes him, but the gentleness of her face and the tender look in her eyes, an expression that no other had ever offered to him, no one but this little forgotten goddess. Whether pitying or loving, he did not know. It was only enough to keep him returning: for many days, his path from the city led straight to her feet, even some nights were spent lying upon her floor, finding peace finally being able to sleep next to something apart from lonely walls.

The sun rises and sets each day where he sits and speaks to her as though she were a living, breathing woman. Occasionally he reads aloud to her in the stillness, cheekily tells her when another goddess’ name is brought up within the lines of poetry that they could never hope to compare.

It’s ridiculous when he does not even know what purpose she serves, but this silent figure is his only companion, the only thing that sets his heart ablaze and mind focused in battle because above all else, he has to return to her. Though she can not share his words, he knows somehow that she shares in his loneliness.

Finally, he thinks to ask her the question that has been burning at the tip of his tongue for weeks and months. One, that he has tried to hold back, display a patience that he lacks. It’s after a night of sleeping on cold marble, an ache in his neck from its hardness and his own refraining from bringing a cushion from his own home in his desperation to return to her.

“Why won’t you speak?,” he asks, somber as he makes his way to leave the temple, only halting in place to cast her a fragile look from over his shoulder. He has read the epics, heard the stories and seen the blessings of other deities… Yet no matter what he does or how often he tethers himself to her leg and dotes upon her, she still meets his devotion with nothing but her silence in return.

König is left with the thought that his gifts are not enough, that he, himself, is not enough, even as her sole devotee. To keep his mind preoccupied, he keeps to the city for a time. The bed is cold, the people still see him as a barbaric outsider, and the horrible coil wound around his heart only seems to tighten its grip further. He feels as though he has left a part of himself out there in the forest within the four chalked walls of her temple.

This loneliness does not feel like one he is forced to swallow down, it feels like a vicious sort of ache, the twisting of a dagger beneath ribs to sink in and steal away what little of a life he does have.

He returns to her the following night, with a furrowed brow and a grave look upon his face. There’s an intent to demand she free him of her, that this longing finally pass, but as his sandals reach the entrance to the temple, those thoughts fall away from his mind like droplets of rain, a cool drizzle that begins to fall outside the very moment he is sheltered.

The statue— the goddess moves.

She tilts her head and inspects him fondly, the perfect mouth he has envisioned speaking to him so many times prior tilts upward in the gentlest smile as her bare feet move to carry her body forward.

“A test,” she explains as though answering his question from only the past day, almost saddened by her own words as her gaze lowers to the space between them.

König’s heart does not roar then, it only melts with the knowledge that someone like her has been left alone for so, so very long that she felt the need to prove to herself that he would return to her side. He would. Time and time again he would. When she raises her head to look him in the eye, her own clouded and misty, he only silently prays that she could see such a vow upon his face.

“I am worthy then?,” he questions, forcing himself to remain rigidly in place despite the call- the urge, to circle her, just once, drop at her feet to then feel her pulse beneath his fingertips. Anything. Even an assurance would be reward enough, but there is always a greed in the hearts of men, one he feels burning a hole through his very being even now.

Her lips press to a line and her gaze seems faraway, lost in her own thoughts that must be as mighty as Olympus itself. After a time, she only answers in a soft whisper, “It is I who am unworthy of you.”

All discordance in his chest pulls to a halt at this, all apprehension and sadness are whisked away when she instead comes to kneel before him. She curls her arms around his leg, presses her cheek to his thigh as he had done so many times before. The goddess gazes up at him with not just affection… but reverence, as though he were the strongest warrior of myth, deserving of even the love of something only as ethereal and sweet as she could provide.

His breath catches for a mere moment before he lowers himself at her side. The stares exchanged from both are full of an unspoken wonderment, all of the things that words alone would fail to speak in truth.

He waits out the rain there, sat beside her with the air surrounding them charged with such a great and unspoken affection that even Venus would taste a bitter envy on her tongue should she pass by to see.

She tells him she can not recall what she was the goddess of… or if she was ever truly any goddess at all. The marble surrounding her was put up for a purpose, but she’s never seen the Elysian Fields or climbed Olympus on her own. Her memories are scattered blurs, and she confesses that she feels tired when she tries to parse things together in a way that he will understand.

He listens while he tends to her by offering the honey and dried meat left in offering for her here, then fetches fresh water from the stream that brooks several yards away and returns to her side with a face both damp and flushed.

König tells her of his life too, how during every battle since stumbling upon this sacred place he has kept her in mind; he has no wife to return to, no other women to bed, that since their meeting his life has become hers. He confesses he had the intention of returning only to force a curse upon this madness that had enveloped him, but… he could never have brought himself to do so, even if she had not appeared to him warm and breathing.

Her laugh then could have prompted waves of flowers to bloom and birds to sing in tune, whimsical and so precious he only begins to feel himself fall, truly. Not out of sheer desperation, but with genuine affection.

When her exhaustion does take her, she does not mind the way his arm curls around her middle to tuck her body closer to his own. The goddess has no fury within her, only mirrors his own feelings with a fluttering of lashes and a soft sigh.

So she sleeps, pulled close to him like a lover rather than a stranger. When dawn breaks, when König knows he’s to be called back to train and fight with the other soldiers, have dull talks about what land to cross and take for their own next, she tells him she will wait there for his return.

He can not concentrate as well on his training this day. The plans for future wars and battles do not send flurries, hot excitement through him. The world is an endless gray, reflected above with darkened clouds threatening further rain. There is only one place he wishes to be, one that yearns for him more than his own home or the women waiting on the street for coins the other men readily supply. When one, a native Roman, does ask him why he does not just venture to the brothel to put himself in better spirits, König only grits his teeth to still his hand from quieting him eternally. These men knew nothing of the love he feels, and certainly they didn’t deserve to.

The temple is no different from how he found it the night prior. The goddess sits with her hands curled in her lap, smiling just as fondly at him as she had before. His heart shatters at the thought that she had sat there waiting for him in such a way all day. He swears to her that he will have a proper bed made for her, bring her the softest of furs and cushions stuffed with downy feathers to lie upon. For now his offering is only fruit and wine, things that she shares with him while she shushes his concerns with quiet words and gratitude that he had returned.

She lowers herself again before him after pulling her robe free and lying it upon the floor. It is no proper bedding at all, but she swears that it is enough, that his own warmth is just enough for her to be sated and comfortable. His head swims when she kisses his thigh, drags her lips up from his knee to rest there with that reverent look in her eye. Mortals coupling with deities was not unheard of, but to think it could happen to him…

She is a goddess. How is he supposed to… How could he ever dirty her with himself? He thinks to refuse her before she tugs away the barrier of fabric between them and takes him into her mouth. Stunned, he only watches her, feels her in a way he has never felt a woman before until he finds his voice again.

“Lie down,” he breathes, shaky and tentative as he rests his hand upon her cheek. She complies, giddy and content when she’s splayed out on the white robe beneath her, legs parting immediately and her arms reaching upward to invite him into her hold.

There’s no tact when he lies atop her, feels the warmth of her thighs around him and her arms curled over his neck. His forehead is pressed to her own when togetherness is found, and when she sighs so soft as she envelops him in full, his mouth descends upon her own.

She doesn’t praise him, doesn’t need to in words, because the muffled sounds and cries that leave her lips are more than enough to spear him onward. König, however… he babbles ceaselessly, overwhelmed and overcome by such a profound joy, he can not keep himself from reciting every word that comes to mind, whether vile or pure.

“My goddess,” he whispers into her hair, eyes half-lidded and dazed with each shallow thrust. “We could have had this for a season… you have made me wait so long, hm?”

The way she feels is unmatched, he thinks, when her breathing shudders and she only seems to constrict him further. To think he could bring a goddess to ruin… the grin that crosses his face when he pushes his head against her neck is bordering on both ecstatic and cruel.

“I will give you a demigod,” he hisses against her throat, not at all subtle about just how far he was willing to go to keep her here. With him. More than Olympus, she belonged beneath him, and the tremor that wracks her form then is all of the confirmation he would need.

She sobs his name when the tension becomes too much to bear, fingernails graze the flesh of his shoulders as she shudders, falls into such bliss that her words of praise come incoherent and weak. He follows her to a saccharine abyss with a guttural groan.

The aftermath is softer than any other moment he has shared with her. There are an abundance of kisses pressed between them, littered across her flesh and his own with whispers that leave his mind cloudy. Her worship is subtle by comparison to his own, coming in honeyed stares and such words he would never dare to repeat, no lowly poet deserved to ever hear them, their voices could never compare to her own.

The goddess holds him close, bumps his nose with her own and makes a promise; she tells him for as long as he shall live that this temple was as much his home as it were his own. That even when this body of his does die, she will seek him out in the Elysian Fields, lie at his feet as he had done her own; that no matter what may come, they will never be apart.

#könig x reader #konig x reader #storing your other request for now angel! <3 #someone kick me and make me write! so sorry to anyone who has sent something in that i have not gotten around to just yet #i see them and i promise i am working through them! my heart soars any time i am entrusted with a König prompt!

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harveybwabbit92 · 7 months ago

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Grocery girl: Ken Sato x Reader pt. 4

You were a delivery girl who was frequently dispatched to famous baseball player's Ken Sato residence, you were a nobody that anyone hardly paid attention to, until you found the legendary baseball passed out on his front steps looking like hell, being a bit of worry wart you help him inside and that things took a HUGE turn when you find yourself playing mommy for a giant baby dragon….

Part 1, Part 2,Part3

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The thing about being new parents is they go into it not thinking how much it'll change their life. as they build a routine around the baby's care that they often forget that they're still people, and need to take of themselves and each other wise over time the stress will start to boil over. And Ken had reached that boiling point as he came home from the game furious cos he got chewed out by the coach and he took his frustrations out on R/n as soon as he walked through the door.

The aftermath of the argument that ensued left Kenji with a sore cheek and even more bruised ego as R/n stormed out of the house in tears her parting words being "You have no right coming at me like, Sato! I'm not who took in giant baby and forced a stranger to uproot her life, because he's too proud admit that he bit off more than he could chew." Kenji made his way downstairs and felt his legs shake as he made his way towards the baby's containment chamber feeling even more frustrated.

He finally breaks down crying grieving over the stress and trials that came with parenting and driving off the only person that had been trying to help him and what was worst...even if he did go after R/n, he wouldn't know where she would go! in the month that they've lived together; never once had they ever sat down and just have a real conversation that didn't involve the baby. That, and he hadn't exactly been the nicest guy since she moved in with him either.

Mina asked if Ken would like to hit some balls as that usually helps him feel better and started up a simulation of the dodger stadium. Unfortunately Ken's frustrations seem to grow as he missed every pitch thrown his way, Baby watched him curiously and started giggling thinking he was being silly; He eventually got sick of everything and retreated to his room.

He kicked the mini fridge in his couch open finding a single can of coconut water. Ken snorted tried to kick the drawer shut but it was being stubborn after the fourth kick it finally locked and Ken buried his head into his hands. Mina approached him concerned, she explained that Kenji was experiencing a breakdown due to stress, no surprises there. She asked if he would like to participate in a counseling session simulation. Ken didn't want that.

"I need to talk to someone, not something...offense Mina."

"Then perhaps you should call someone, a friend? "

"A friend...Well I just chased out the closest person I could call a...."

"Ken?"

Ken had an idea who to call he ended up calling Ami Wakita for help hopefully she can help him sort his head out and maybe help fix things with R/n, but first he had to come off as subtle as possible so the reporter doesn't suspect his current living situation. Ken waited a rings for Ami answer. "Miss Wakita,. It's Ken, Ken Sato, I need to talk to you." Ami panicked a little thinking Ken calling to complain about her most recent article she'd done on him. "Oh, Mr. Sato. If this is about what I wrote, I'm sorry but I solely write based on what I see-" Ken interrupted her assuring that the reason for him calling had nothing to do with her article, he just needed a minute to talk.

Ami cut him a deal; five minutes of talking and he gives her an exclusive interview, Ken reluctantly agreed her her terms and began talking. He wanted to know how she does make it work? How does she juggle her job while also caring for her family at the same time? "I mean, how did you did not lose it on your partner or resist the urge to throw your kid out a window?" There was a slight pause on the other end and Ken was worried he said too much before Ami spoke. "Ken, do you have a secret wife and child? cos that would make one heck of a story.~" Ken felt his cheeks burn as he firmly denied it Ami snickered assuring him that she was joking.

She told him that parenting was difficult even with two people but it's a rewarding journey and though it can seem bleak and stressful at times, but there's always that awe that comes with these little lives are relying on imperfect you to guide them through it all, even teaching you a few things along the way the feeling you get from experiencing it is... "Incredible..." Ken said in awe as he watched the baby trying to copy him from watching some of his old games.

He asked Mina to lower the kaiju's containment field and managed to get a hold of a giant baseball bat he just randomly had lying around and handed it off to the baby. "...And your five minutes are up!" Amy stated Ken hadn't heard her right away as he was trying to Baby how to swing her bat. "Ken, are you still there?" The baseball players eyes widened as remembered her was on call with her. "Oh, yeah. thanks!" Ami said his thanks can be the exclusive interview he promised. "Ah, right. Let's meet tomorrow at Tonkatsu Tonki in Meguro, around 7?" He hung up before Ami agreed and Ken returned to teaching Baby how to play baseball he had Mina bring up a simulation a baseball field from his childhood complete with his mom cheering him on front the stands.

Ken showed the baby how to hold her bat and went to pitchers mound the first try didn't go so well as Ken had accidentally nailed her in the forehead causing baby to started crying; Ken went to calm her down and reassure her. "It's okay, it happens. We'll try again. this time keep your eye on the ball." Ken went to pitch again and this time baby hit a homerun! Ken and Mina cheered and ran up to the kaiju. "C'mon girl, time to run your bases!" the the baby laughed and chirped giddily as she followed her daddy.

Cut to an hour later the baby has fallen asleep though with some difficulty, Ken learned that R/n would sing to the infant kaiju; which was news to him(he was usually K.O.'d or fighting Kaiju while R/n was on duty.) According to Mina R/n has lovely singing voice. Lucky the teddy bear R/n got Baby combined some Music box melodies playing on the speakers was enough to calm the infant dragon down. Now Ken had different matter to attend to: Apologizing to R/n. it's been an hour or so and she still hasn't come back...

He did relax a little knowing they were on an island so she couldn't have gone far, she would've had to borrow one of his cars to leave (There was a Baby incident with R/n's car.)..."Mina did you give R/n a watch?" he asked in an anxious tone Mina confirmed that she had. "Bring her location up." Ken brows furrowed in concern as R/n location showed her off the shore in the ocean. "She probably walked onto a shoal path and got trapped on on a rock something when the tide came in." Mina theorized that didn't calm Ken's nerves as he told Mina to keep an eye on baby while he went to look for R/n he turned into Ultraman left for a swim out the airlock.

Meanwhile

R/n was cold, sore, wet and pissed off and worst off trapped on this rusty-ass buoy that she managed to grabbed onto as the current pulled her away from the shore, R/n scratched her arms and legs up from climbing onto to it as the ocean came more restless with each passing minute, and all she could do was sit there and berate herself. "Because you let it get to you, You let the stress and Ken get to you and that's you how you drowned in the sea...." R/n eyes widened horror as the realization dawns on her "Holy crap, I'm going to drown in the sea" Her complexion turned ashen as she last out a small gasp. "..Just like Meimei's card reading said." R/n said thinking back to her last shift.

*R/n was sitting in the DN6 break room eating lunch while Meimei sat across from her giving her a Tarot card reading with Digimon cards??? R/n looks at cards then at the teen skeptically. "...And how exactly would I drown in tea?" she asked while taking a bite of her sandwich.*

R/n thought it over for moment then shrugged "Eh, close enough..." And this was All be cause she just wanted a few minutes to herself and to be far away from Ken as possible! But being stuck out here made R/n realize she couldn't really blame him for lashing like that. He was stressed out they both were, neither of them haven't had a moment of peace in what seemed like forever! Hell they've barely spoke to each other since R/n moved in...One of them was bound to snap from the pressure eventually!

R/n looked across the pitch dark bay at the distance of the Ultrabase and wondered if she should risk it and try to swim back? The delivery girl looked down at her scrapped hand and legs then snorted. She'd never make it, R/n was by no means a profession swimmer and even if she was there was a risk of riptides; that with all the blood she was leaking she'd be inviting every predator in a near mile to a free dinner!

While was stressing over her current predicament she failed to noticed the two blue lights under the waters surface searching around until they looked up, they seem brightened up when they noticed her sitting at the water's edge, R/n let out a panicked yelp as tried to hang on to the buoy for dear life as the waves caused by the unknown entity crashed against it threatening to send R/n tumbling out to sea! *Oh, Great...now I'm gonna get eaten by a kaiju!* The delivery girl thought as the unknown creature broke the waters surface but what greeted R/n wasn't some aquatic monster wanting to eat her but instead the towering figure of Ultraman standing over her.

"R/n." He said with a relieved sigh as he leaned down to get better look at her. "Are you okay?" The delivery girl hugged the buoy tight as his movements caused the water to shift around. "I'd be happier if I was on land!" the delivery girl whined as the buoy shifted violently Ken reached out and held the buoy still while he held out his free hand out for R/n to climb on to. The tiny woman reluctantly hopped on and expected Ken to just walk them back to the base but instead he suddenly cupped his other hand over her. "Hey, take a deep breath for me, ok?" R/n looked up confused at what Ken was doing. "Hold my breath? what for-" her voiced echoed of into the distance as Ultraman suddenly flew off into the sky.

R/n felt like her stomach was yanked into her feet as Ultraman flew them somewhere when he finally stopped and set her down R/n needed a minute to get her bearings before looking around her eyes widened in awe as she took in the white sandy beach and untamed jungle in the distance. "Where is this?" she asked looking up at the silver giant who rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. "It's just a random island my dad used for training, it's small enough not show up on any maps and completely uninhabited." he explained as the [y/hc] woman looked out into surroundings she could see some parts of the the island were all kinds of torn up and in the pale moonlight she could see areas of the beach were glassed over like it had been hit by a lighting strike or say an alien energy beam...

"Why did you bring me here-....Are you going kill me?!" Ultraman looked at her startled "What the hell makes you think that?!" R/n goes on a rant on how she knows and seen too much, she could go to the press! Which she wouldn't actually... but still she's a liability to his life! "Would you calm down? I'm not gonna kill you...I brought you here to talk." Ken reassured as he sat down, it was kinda funny seeing Ultraman sitting so casually in that sand as R/n reluctantly joined him...

the two of them relaxed to the sound of the waves crashing on the beach and crickets chirping in distant the jungle as Ken finally spoke up. "I'm sorry freaked out at you like that, It's just this whole thing with the baby and my jobs-" His timer started blinking R/n put her hand on his thigh. "Hey, It's okay. I get it..." Ken didn't seemed too convinced.

"No, what you said earlier; about uprooting your life... I never thanked you once for that did I?" The giant asked looking down the human his eyes dimmed somberly as R/n removed her hand from his thigh and looked down at her lap. "It wouldn't hurt to hear it every now and then...." The giant moved his hand so it was rested behind R/n who leaned back against it. "Well thanks, for everything." he said as the two sat in silence for a few moments enjoying the silence before R/n spoke up.

"I'm curious why haven't you switched back to human, don't you have 3 minutes or something?" Ultraman looked down at her oddly. "Uh...What? I don't have time limit, why would you think that?" he asked with sight laugh R/n's mouth opened but closed again when she couldn't come up with an answer. "I'm not sure...maybe I read it somewhere?" Ken was curious now and went to press where she had read that from? but was interrupted by Mina calling informing that the baby was waking up soon and she won't be happy seeing both her parents gone.

"Welp, looks like break time over, let's go home" He held his hand out for R/n to hop onto this time delivery girl was ready for take off as Ultraman jumped up into the sky, when they got back to base Mina chewed Ken out for not bringing straight home to have her scrapes treated before the deciding to run away for an hour.

========================

{Ultraman didn't turn back into Ken cos he knew they weren't going to be staying on the island long.]

{Also: Did you catch the Archer reference?}

=========================

@mf-rockstar,@pattycakes2024,

@the-unhinged-raccoon,@karebears-klub,

@oh-kurva, @mashiromochi,

@boogiemansbitch, @ok-boke

@dap11

#tokusatsu #ultraman #ultraman rising #ken sato #emi #ken sato x reader #afab reader

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pacing-er · 3 months ago

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The Krakoa Era Reading List Cherik Version (PART 1):

(In order of timeline)

1. House of X/Powers of X

Tons of Cherik interactions with a lot of emphasis put onto their relationship. Moira/Charles is mentioned but very minor and in the end Charles chooses Erik over her. Highly recommend reading the whole thing since it establishes the universe and has a lot of ship bait.

2. Dawn of X

Some cute moments but overall they do not play a huge part in this series. A majority is dedicated to world building and other characters. Worth reading for the small parts they are in which are unfortunately dispersed throughout 15 volumes. I recommend skimming through it since the moments they are in are good but it is overall skippable.

(Highlights: Charles is assassinated and revived. There are a few angsty scenes with Magneto and their reunion is a little lackluster but sweet. Charles and Erik go to speak at an international meeting and it's cool. Logan gets Magneto drunk so he can steal his helmet, Magneto is a cute chatty drunk. I recommend reading that part at least bc I love it sooo much.)

3. X of Swords

Most of their appearances are in silent counsel meetings and Charles is shown several times in the resurrection chambers. Again they play a much smaller role in this series. The most noteworthy things to come from this series are the cute co-parenting moments between Erik and Charles. Since this one is much shorter (5 volumes as opposed to 15), I will include the moments I personally enjoyed. Aside from these moments I think this series is skippable.

Erik and Charles co-parenting an angsty Polaris (Magneto's daughter):

Erik and Charles being proud of their son Cyclops:

And I just really loved this scene XD Someone hatched from their egg mad as hell and Charles was NOT having it

I am planning to make a series of posts as I read through the Krakoa Era, so for now this is only Part 1. My memory isn't great and I pretty much just scroll until I see Erik or Charles and only read those parts so I'm missing some major context LMAO but I hope this is helpful to anyone

#xmen #krakoa #krakoa era reading list #cherik #Krakoa but only Cherik #x men #magneto #professor x #charles xavier #erik lehnsherr #polaris #marvel comics #marvel comics recs #part 1

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queenshelby · 6 months ago

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Our Little Secret (Part 59)

Pairing: Cillian Murphy x Reader

Warning: Infidelity, Age-Gap, Triggers, Smut

Her words lingered in your mind as you left the office, dazed, confused, and heartbroken. The short walk back to your car seemed like an eternity, as if the streets of Dublin had somehow elongated into a never-ending labyrinth of despair.

The moment you climbed into the driver's seat, the tears flowed freely, unleashing the torrent of emotions that had been mounting since your confrontation with Cillian.

This was a mess, for you and for Mara. You were determined to make things works for the sake of your daughter but felt at fault for now screwing it up by somehow leading Cillian to think that you were ready to forgive him.

You felt guilt for sleeping with him that night after a heated argument and now you had to deal with the consequences of his and your own emotional turmoil.

You cranked up the car and decided to head back to your mother's house for now, putting on a brave face to pick up Mara.

When you arrived at her house however, your mother immediately

noticed that something was wrong. She was a perceptive woman and knew you well enough to recognize when something was amiss. You tried to put on a smile and explain that everything was alright, but she wasn't convinced.

After a while, you finally decided to open up to her about what had happened with Cillian in counselling. You were hoping that she would have some words of wisdom to help you navigate this unexpected turn of events.

“He wants Mara three days a week and negotiate care during the times that he is away on an as needed basis through a mediator, prior to filming. This means Mara wouldn’t even have time with the both of us, together, as a family. This was what we have been working on so hard, just for him to throw it all away?” you told her, reading from his solicitor’s letter which explained, in detail, the proposed parenting plan and mediation document.

She listened quietly, then pulled you into a warm embrace. “He is hurting Y/N, but I have known him long enough to believe that he will come around again. He might just need some time and some distance from you ,” she whispered, rocking you gently.

You let out a heavy sigh, nodding in silent agreement. You knew she was right. Despite everything that had happened, you couldn't help but still care for him. You wanted nothing more than for the two of you to find a way to co-parent Mara peacefully and amicably, without the constant tension and hostility that had become the norm.

As mother and daughter released each other from their embrace, your mum placed a reassuring hand on your shoulder. “It will all work out and, until it does, just make sure Mara gets the one on one time with her father she needs. I made this mistake myself, alienating you from your father out of spite and anger, and I see how much it still affects you. Let's not repeat this. Mara will need her father and his love, as much as she needs you and yours, no matter what happens between the two of you.,” she said, her eyes filled with wisdom and understanding.

You looked at her, appreciating her words of wisdom more than ever. She was right. You needed to put your differences aside for the sake of Mara's well-being.

“I know and I have no problem with him spending time with her on his own, but I just wanted her to have a family union too rather than a mum at one house and a dad at another,” you explained, as you wiped away your tears.

“I know dear, but sometimes things don’t work out the way we want them to, and we need to find a way to make the best of it. It isn’t ideal, but it’s better than not having a relationship with her father at all,” she replied, soothingly.

After a few moments of silence, you composed yourself and prepared to leave with Mara as it was getting close to her bedtime already.

Surprisingly, she settled quiet easily that night even though your mother gave her more sweets than you would usually have approved of. Finding it hard to shake off thoughts of Cillian and the recent counseling session, you found yourself in Mara’s room, lying beside her, wishing for everything to be different.

As such, shortly after Mara went to sleep, you couldn’t help but pick up your phone and type a message to Cillian, hoping that he would change his mind.

The text read:

"Hey, I know you are angry with me but, can we talk about this please? I think it would be best if we could discuss everything openly and try to find a way to co-parent effectively without a mediator. It just seems sterile and I feel like the arrangement proposed by you is unsuitable for Mara."

It was a simple message, but you hoped it would convey the urgency you felt in finding an amicable solution, but Cillian’s response was sharp and to the point.

“I disagree, and I insist on mediation moving forward instead of counseling something that, clearly, cannot be fixed. I will pick Mara up at noon tomorrow as discussed,” he replied.

You pursed your lips, frustrated. He still remained firm on his decision despite your plea.

You sighed and let your fingers dance on the screen, “Alright then. Have it your way, but just remember that Mara is not a piece of possession to be traded from one house to another. She needs us both, working together and she is used to staying at my house overnight, so it will take some time to change this. She is still young Cillian.”

There was a pause, and you stared at the screen, praying for a reconsideration. But there was none.

Instead, Cillian replied with a single word. "Understood."

You sighed. It wasn't the response you were hoping for, but at least it was something. You knew that there was no point in trying to argue further and so, you decided to leave it at that. For now.

The next day, as promised, Cillian arrived at noon to pick up Mara. You both exchanged pleasantries but it was clear that the tension between you was still palpable.

Cillian's demeanour was distant, and his eyes barely met yours as he reached out to take Mara from your arms. You could feel the tears threatening to spill over again but fought them back, not wanting to create a scene in front of Mara.

With Mara, at least, he was genuinely warm and affectionate. He loved her more than life itself and she was excited to see him.

“Dada, Dada, Dada!” she exclaimed, her face lighting up as she caught sight of him. It tugged at your heartstrings to see how much she adored her father, even if the current situation was far from ideal.

As Cillian drove away with Mara, you found yourself alone in your house, feeling a mix of emotions but you kept yourself busy by cleaning and attending to various chores.

Then, before you knew it, it was dinner time and Cillian returned Mara to your care. Once she was settled in for the evening, you decided to take a long, hot shower to wash away the stress of the day.

You stood under the warm, pulsating water, letting it soothe your tense muscles and relax your mind. The silence was blissful, a brief respite from the chaos that had been your life as of late. As the water washed over you, your thoughts turned to Cillian, and you couldn't help but wonder what was going on in his mind.

What was he thinking?

Was he really okay with the mediator getting involved and handling all the communication between the two of you? It seemed so cold and emotionless to you, but you knew it was his way of coping with everything that had happened. You sighed, reaching for a towel to wrap around yourself as you stepped out of the shower.

You padded into your bedroom, your mind swirling with thoughts. You glanced at the clock and saw that it was already almost 10 pm. Mara would be waking up early again tomorrow, and you wanted to be well-rested for her.

So, you quickly dried off, slipped on your pajamas, and crawled into bed. As you closed your eyes, the day's events replayed through your mind.

The following morning, you woke up and scrolled your emails which is where it was, the first email from the mediator. It had been sent the day before but you never noticed.

In this email, he relayed that Cillian's solicitor had asked for Cillian to have Mara every Saturday, including nights, until filming was completed and seeing how he would fly home on a Friday afternoon and then fly back on Sundays, this wasn't entirely unreasonable.

Knowing it was best for Mara to see her father every week, you agreed to it and also proposed a weekly FaceTime call on Thursday nights, to facilitate communication and let Mara have some consistency in her schedule.

The mediator was pleased by your willingness to make this work and also proposed a weekly meeting, via Facetime, with you both to address any issues that may arise and to work on a parenting plan for when Cillian was back home.

You felt a small sense of relief as this arrangement seemed much better than what you had thought would happen, but you couldn't ignore the nagging feeling in the pit of your stomach. This all still felt like strangers stepping in and taking control of your lives, but you vowed to make it work for the sake of Mara.

The rest of the week was a blur. You spent your days focused on work, Mara, and your studies, avoiding any lingering thoughts about Cillian and Cillian did the same. He focused on work, filming the new Peaky Blinders movie and socializing with colleagues.

One of his colleagues was no other than Annabelle Wallis who had returned to play Grace Shelby, only ever present in Thomas Shelby's dreams and hallucinations. Cillian and her had a fair few scenes together and, unbeknownst to you, she had always taken a liking in him which ultimately was what led to numerous rumors of an affair between them while he was married to Danielle.

Annabelle was excited to work with Cillian again for reasons that were not just professional and throughout the entire week she would often initiate conversations with him, asking about you and Mara.

It was no secret on set that the relationship between you and Cillian was strained, especially not after the media fall out that came after the Oscars, and Annabelle was determined to take advantage of it.

As the days went by, Annabelle was always there, making sure she spent as much time as possible with Cillian, whether it was in front of the cameras or behind them. She would often make comments about your relationship, pretending to be there as a shoulder to lean on when he needed someone to talk, although mostly, Cillian remained silent when it came to his personal affairs.

"You know, if you ever need someone to vent to, I'm here, alright? I just went through a breakup myself and I know it can be hard," she said with a warm smile, placing a reassuring hand on his shoulder after they wrapped up filming for the day.

"Thanks, Annabelle, but I'm fine. We're just working things out and that takes time," Cillian replied, but he felt a pang of guilt in admitting this to Annabelle.

"Don't you think that, maybe, this ship has sailed?" Annabelle asked, eyeing him skeptically. "I mean, I've seen the news. I've read the tabloids and last night you were really pissed off with her. I've heard you talking to Steve about it and it's just, I don't know...," she trailed off, letting her words hang in the air before continuing the conversation into a different direction. "Do you want to go for a drink? No talking, just relaxing and listening to some live music? It might help you relax and unwind before the early start tomorrow," Annabelle continued, sensing that Cillian needed an escape from the constant stress of his personal life and work.

Cillian hesitated for a moment before agreeing. "Alright, let's go. I could do with a pint," he said with a chuckle and so they spent the evening at a popular pub in town, enjoying a few drinks and chatting about everything except the elephant in the room - his broken relationship with you.

Annabelle seemed to instinctively know when to change the subject and Cillian found himself appreciating her efforts. She was a good listener, too, and seemed genuinely interested in his thoughts and opinions.

As they talked, Cillian felt himself relaxing for the first time in ages. It was as if a heavy weight had been lifted off of his shoulders and he could breathe and think clearly again. For a few hours, at least, he was able to forget about his troubles and focus on something other than his strained relationship with you.

When they finally emerged from the pub, many hours later, they were both feeling quite tipsy as they walked back to the apartment building in which the cast was staying. It was like a hotel of some sort, but without a bar on site.

"Would you care for a nightcap at my place?" she asked, giving him a suggestive look and, again, Cillian hesitated for a moment, his thoughts immediately going to the obvious and unspoken boundaries between them.

Annabelle sensed his reluctance and decided to press the issue, softly placing her hand on his forearm and looking him in the eyes. "Hey, no pressure, just a drink and some good conversation. I promise," she said with a smile.

He knew he shouldn't do it, but some part of him wanted to simply have some company. Besides, what could it hurt? It was just a drink, right?

"Alright," he nodded, following her up to her apartment even as his conscience screamed at him to rethink his decision.

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#cillian murphy x y/n #cillian murphy x you #cillian murphy imagine #cillian murphy x reader #cillian murphy smut #cillian murphy #cillian murphy fic #cillianmurphy #annabelle wallis #cillian fanfic #cillian murphy fanfiction #cillian murphy fanfic

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ropebunnykant · 14 days ago

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Apologies for the incoming essay... Re. Kant and choices and him choosing to involve Style - look, nobody's out here trying to say Kant's eligible for best friend of the year! But there does seem to be a lot of retroactive woobifying of Style, attempts to exempt him from the current tangled web, etc., when, lest we forget, he agreed to try and seduce a man FOR A CAR. He then proceeded to stalk said man, and to disrupt and exploit a grief counselling session FOR A CAR. Of course Kant shouldn't have involved him (but when your options are limited and you're desperate, you're not always thinking straight), but it was Style's own a) automotive greed and b) bruised ego (after their vehicular run-in) that got him where he is today. It was a bargain that he himself suggested - it wasn't even Kant's idea! Let's be honest, he could've just said nah mate, you're alright, and what could Kant have done about it? Style is not untouched by the taint! And that's okay - let him be messy too (the fact that he'd already had a couple of fraught encounters with Fadel even before Kant introduced them was a deliberate decision on the writers' part)! He had his own agenda going into this which he'd need to apologise for regardless of the added assassin shenanigans, and once he's in the know, he becomes as responsible as Kant for what happens next - they're both faced with the same choice: confess in order to try and keep the brothers out of jail, or stay schtum, despite their misgivings, out of fear for their own lives. And they both chose the same path. All four of them have been lying to each other from the get-go, for multiple complex reasons, some maybe more valid or understandable than others, but point is that none of them are squeaky clean and ALL of them bear at least some responsibility for the colossal shitshow that they now find themselves in! And that's what makes it good TV!

(I'd also like to point out something I find interesting, which is that Kant's rhetoric with Style has always been about looking out for number one - he tells Style he's doing it to clear his record, get those charges off his back, outside the restaurant he talks about having to prioritise saving your own skin over everything else, even though that makes him sound a bit cold...but he's not doing it for himself, is he? He's doing it for Babe. He's doing it because of the repercussions that would fall on his little brother's head if anything were to happen to Kant, whether that be jail time or an early grave (though I'm not saying he'd be a-okay with either regardless!). Babe has been his driving force the entire show (as yours and others' beautiful meta has explored) - Kant does the OPPOSITE of prioritise himself, and has done so since his parents died, and that's why HE'S in this mess in the first place. But, to the best of my recollection, he never invokes Babe when he's trying to win over Style, and I can't decide if that's because it's a line he won't cross (though he did sort of cross it when using Babe as an excuse at karaoke, or does that not count cos it was a lie?), or because he truly doesn't see himself as self-sacrificing so wouldn't even think to frame it in those terms to someone else. Or a combo of both!)

I think part of the reason the Kant slander (by which I absolutely don't mean legit critical analysis or taking the well-earned piss out of him!) bothers me is because I'm conscious that First is, at least to a degree, aware of the negativity (and tagged into some of it because ppl suck), which is why every time I look online he seems to be apologising on his character's behalf. And yes, it is in jest, but, knowing he's an inveterate people pleaser, I also get the sneaking suspicion it's also partly genuine, which makes me sad.

yeah, aaaabsolutely agree with everything you’ve said here. like i think the argument about style has more merit too it, but at the same time im still sat here thinking, what was kant’s other option? because bison gives him this stipulation: if you want us to date, you have to find someone for fadel. and kant cant just cut his losses and say okay, then i guess we won’t date. he has to get close, he has to get this information. so he has to involve someone else, retroactively. and we can argue about if he should have told style the full truth from the beginning, but not only do we see the captain specifically tell him not to do that, but i think kant is well aware it would not have worked if he did. style would have blown the operation out of the water way too soon, if he even agreed in the first place which the odds of him doing without having some investment into fadel would have been very slim! like it sucks, but realistically, what else could kant have done that would have allowed him to do what he needed to? what other choice did he have?

and like you said, style is far from innocent! none of them are innocent in this! thats the whole point! and that’s the big thing, too, because it’s meant to be this complicated messy thing. they subbed in the women from taming in the shrew for assassins because it allows for this intense sort of courtship that was brought on by misogyny in the play, while also allowing us to understand that fadel and bison aren’t innocent, either. that they’re all fucked up and messy in their own ways.

and yeah, i think getting into the babe of it all just isn’t something kant is willing to do for the most part. i think he tries to keep babe out of it as much as possible, but using him as an excuse to get out of there was the most realistic thing he could do, especially when bison has already seen that protective brother side of him. and i also think that kant just doesn’t view himself highly in general. he doesn’t think of himself as selfless or self sacrificing because he knows the awful things hes had to do in order to keep babe safe and in his custody - and while maybe for other people knowing it’s for babe would help his case, he doesn’t feel that way. because obviously he wouldn’t change it, but it doesn’t mean he liked doing any of it, that he likes the lengths he’ll go. especially when i think he thinks if babe knew, he wouldn’t like any of it, either. babe already didn’t like just the lying to bison. can you imagine what he’d think if he knew kant had drugged him once? if he knew all of it was built on a false start? kant probably thinks babe would hate him for it all as much as he hates himself for it.

and as for the first of it all, i do hope despite the media literacy some people lack in it all that he knows he did a fucking incredible job with kant. i say this as someone who has been making detailed posts about first’s acting since the eclipse, but i genuinely think this is his strongest and most nuanced performance. hes made kant so, so clear and easy to understand if you’re paying attention, and i love him so dearly for it.

#kant and first own my heart fr #the heart killers #kant pattanawat #my analysis #mine #asks #nonnies

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nonexistentirl · 3 months ago

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Just finished the Academy speech arc. EAP translations are only upto 226. Should I stop here and let the chapters pile again? Instead of reading an ongoing chapter and getting confused, like the final 100 chapters of part 1, I think I'd rather come back to it when the Aipotu arc is fully translated.

I did, however, massively enjoy the last twenty or so chapters. Compared to Xiaolen, the Central Plains arc was longer. It was also a little hard to immerse yourself into in the earlier parts. But things started looking up when Heavenly Demon was introduced. From there right up until the defeat of Blood Demon and dealing with the formation and Tsunami, was so engaging.

The Dragon's Tear part was one of my favourites in the Central Plains arc aside from the two Tsunamis. Right from the point Cale and Choi Jung Soo went in and Lee Soo Hyuk and everyone let them be like give two lovers space was hilarious. The dead dragon Maxillienne and the info we got about Aipotu. Cale's Sky Eating Water getting an upgrade of 300%+ and getting three new attacks, as if she wasn't already the strongest of all of his ancient powers. The crown got an upgrade and we finally get the crown that was on the cover of part 2.

Xiaolen gave us the Fire of Destruction at 2500%. That was so iconic. It was a shorter arc in comparison but it gave us something absolutely unforgettable. Central Plains was lengthy and drawn-out at times but it gave us the Emperor of the Sea Kim Hae-il. I guess it's safe to say we came out of both with no regrets.

But from 200-211, these twelve chapters. They have all of my heart. Why?

Because

We are back in Roan! We're back home! It's been so long since we were last home! It was like a hundred and thirty chapters ago! We're reunited with family!

The children are so cute! Raon and Hong my cutie munchkins! Hong rushing out as soon as Cale and co arrived and him and Raon hugging and then spinning in circles. They really are just kids, no matter how vicious they are on the battlefield.

Lily is starting at the academy! And On will too once she decides which one she wants to go to! I wonder if she'll go to academy or end up deciding she's better off being home tutored like now. Regardless, I'm happy for them! (Hong and Lily are the same age, aren't they? I guess Hong will have to start thinking about it seriously soon too.)

Ahn Roh Man face reveal! And he looks like Alver! Except more of a nerd! (Cale's description not mine.) We ended up learning more of his backstory than about the Transparent bloods though. From what we've seen he seems cooperative and chill. But neither Cale nor Alver fully trust him yet. I hope he turns out to be an ally rather than an enemy.

Cale got scolded by his parents for having his head almost go boom boom! The parents are worried! It was hilarious that right after he told his siblings he'll have a chat with them regarding future counselling, Violan tells him he needs to get some life counselling from his parents first. And he felt so helpless that he thought dealing with the God of Balance was less scary sksksksk.

Cale threw Alver under the bus by having him play a video game, and in revenge Alver arranged for Cale to give a speech at the academy. Never piss off the crown prince of the country you yourself are a citizen of.

Him thinking back to the times he was invited to give speeches as Kim Rok Soo, I thought he'd have experience. But turns out all those times got cancelled due to something or another popping up, most often a monster attack. And it's suspicious as it is hilarious. Did that have something to do with the curse or is there more than meets the eye? Also, the way he just jinxed this speech by thinking about a possible terrorist attack. And it did happen afghhajekf

Alver and Sui Khan laughing their asses off at Cale walking up to the podium.

Right as we hypothesised the Five coloured bloods might be Wanderers, a wanderer shows up and warns Cale not to meddle more than he already has. Basically confirming the hypothesis.

The wanderer called Cale "child of the Thames". But was he talking about Cale Henituse or the soul within... I'm sorry I'm gonna be thinking about it A LOT.

Of course Cale pulled out his shield at a time of crisis and restored their faith in him. The arc is, after all, titled "Young Master Silver Shield, return of the legend"

Alver and Cale had a miscommunication and instead of stepping down and letting the crown prince handle it, Cale ended up saying something that gave both of them headaches.

Actually the whole time he was at the podium was legendary. "Nice to meet you" followed by "Fuck" i died laughing there. Then his "The shield will not break" to calm the crowds which he himself ended up cringing at afterwards. And then basically telling the masses that all the times recently he has been absent was because he was fighting the enemies aiming for, not just their kingdom, but their world, followed by congratulating the kids on starting at Academy, and then walking off all cool and charismatic.

This needed a special mention of its own. When he walked down the podium and undid the first button of his shirt as he walked away, and the administrators lowered their eyes. It wasn't mentioned but you know they were blushing.

I'm literally all over the place but I needed to make this list of everything I loved in this small arc.

I also see a pattern. At the end of part 1 Cale met God of Death, at the end of Xiaolen arc he met Fire of Purification, at the end of Central Plains arc he met God of Balance and God of Hope. Who's next? I really look forward to him meeting God of Protection, our very own Super Rock.

(One thing I'm confused about though, why is the owner of Dominating Aura talked about as if he isn't literally Choi Jung Gun?)

I'm so hyped for the Five coloured bloods and the King's successor reveals. I feel like they're gonna be harder to deal with. Especially the King's successor. That old man on Central Plains compared Cale to him except that guy carries much more despair inside him compared to Cale and that fucking says a lot.

#lout of count’s family #lcf #cale henituse #tcf novel #cale #trash of the count's family #kim rok soo #tcf #alver crossman #alberu crossman

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dullgecko · 3 months ago

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During senior year, Fabian’s mental health starts spiralling. His half-sibling is born and pretty much everyone steps in to help Hallariel and Gilear with whatever they need, and Fabian can see how loved this new baby is, and he just ends up wondering why he wasn’t ever worth that. For the first few months, the baby is all anyone wants to talk about, and there seems to be this expectation that Fabian will just drop whatever he’s doing to help out no matter what time it is, no matter what he had planned.

Fabian had thought that maybe Adaine would understand why he was struggling. After all, elven parents blatantly showing favourites, while utterly disregarding the existence/wellbeing of the other sibling probably would have resonated with her if she thought about it that way, but she didn’t. His life was great, right? She just kind of laughed that he was jealous of a baby, and of course they’re paying attention to it, babies need attention, and he was an adult and he would survive with a little less attention. He tried to tell himself that she didn’t mean it in a horrible way, and she probably didn’t, but it still hurt to hear. (He hadn’t forgotten how lonely he had been during junior year, using podcasts to make it sound like people were in the house with him, clinging to whatever pillows he could find as a substitute for actual contact with a person. And now there were so many people around for the baby and none of them had ever put that much effort into being there for him.)

Fig also really didn’t help, because the main reason she messaged Fabian was to ask for photos of the baby and he ended up blocking her for a bit because he just couldn’t deal with that. Kristen kept sharing little anecdotes from when her siblings were younger and even Gorgug kept asking Fabian what toys the baby might like. Riz was basically the only one who didn’t particularly care about the baby (sure, they were kinda cute, maybe, but he didn’t want kids regardless of whatever his complex feelings about relationships were) but he was completely overwhelmed by school and scholarship applications and extra cases which meant that he was hardly ever around.

At first, Fabian tried to get perfect grades in the hopes that maybe that would get him some attention from parents that had apparently forgotten all about him. When that didn’t work, he figured there wasn’t much point in trying, and he just stopped working, to the point that he was on the verge of failing the year. Jawbone picked up on it, but ended up making things worse by accident.

After that failed counselling session, Fabian had gone missing for three days (Riz didn’t sleep the entire time and trusted Jawbone even less than before). He eventually returned, showing up at Riz’s apartment, physically unharmed (somehow) but incredibly drunk and just sobbing about how he was the worst parts of both of his parents and how it finally made sense why no one wanted him around. Riz was a little offended that Fabian thought no one wanted him, and because words are hard but work is easy, Riz ended up talking Fabian through a clue board he’d been working on about how he could help Fabian.

Riz knew he looked like an absolute mess, hair disheveled and unwashed, clothes wrinkled, tie loose on his neck and shirt partially unbuttoned as he crossed another location off the map he had sprawled out over his kitchen table. Fabian had been gone for three days and compleatly uncontactable, even Adaines attempt to skry had been unsuccessful so it was likely he was either making an attempt not to be found or someone had taken him.

The others were all checking different locations in Elmville searching for information while Riz co-ordinated the search. He hadn't slept in days and the fact that they'd found nothing so far was not helping things. He'd checked most of the locations himself but was at such a disadvantage due to exhaustion that his friends had forced him to go home for a while.

The goblin ran his fingers through his hair, groaning and thunking his forehead against the table when he got a text from Gorgug. Riz only lifting his head to mark another location off the map since the half orc had found nothing. He took his glasses off, holding them by one arm as he laid his head back down and took a deep breath. Seriously contemplating getting his third coffee of the hour depite his heart beating at a dangerously fast pace because he was having an incredibly hard time thinking right now.

He jumped when there was a sudden loud pounding against his front door, nearly swiping his empty coffee cup onto the floor but managing to catch it at the last second. The goblin placing the cup more centraly on the table before getting up to go see who was waiting outside. He opened it with the safety chain still attached, just in case it was someone there to attack him given the violence of the banging, and immediatly slammed the door back shut. The goblin having to jump to disengage the chain before flinging the door back open and grab the person on the other side by the fabric of their pant leg.

Fabian looked almost as disheveled as he did, which was saying something, and stank of alcohol. Riz wrinkling his nose at the smell as he tried to drag his previously missing friend inside and check to make sure he was okay.

"Fabian holy fuck I've been looking for you everywhere are you okay?" The rogue had to tug and manouver the incredibly drunk half elf to sit down on his couch, leaving him there for just a second as he went to grab a first aid kit before coming back and checking him over properly. The fact he had tears streaming down his cheeks was incredibly concerning, on top of the fact he'd disappeared for three days and hadn't said a word yet was not doing much to put Riz at ease even though he was no longer missing.

#fantasy high #riz gukgak #bad kids #fabian seacaster

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gingiesworld · 1 year ago

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Family Is Forever

Chapter Three

Wanda Maximoff x GN! Reader

Warnings: Angst.

Taglist: @fxckmiup @ginnsbaker @gb12d @casquinhaa @angrywhisperslove @louxbloom @natashamaximoff-69 @wizardofstories @canvascoloredin

18+ MINORS DNI

The next day came around pretty fast, Y/N had already had the lawyers draw up the papers, not wanting to draw the divorce out any longer than it needed to.

"So, we're doing it here?" Wanda questioned as she sat on the sofa as Y/N stood before the mantel, looking over the pictures of the four of them.

"Yeah, I figured it won't be long." They told her honestly, picking up the picture of the two of them stood outside of Tony's cabin. "I love this photo, I always thought you were stunning even of you hated the wind in your hair."

"What are you doing?" Wanda snapped as Y/N put the picture back in it's place.

"I'm sorry if I made you uncomfortable. That was never my intention." They told her just as the doorbell rang, Wanda just huffed as she got up to answer it. Allowing the divorce lawyer inside as the three soon moved to the dining table. Both Wanda and Y/N sat opposite each other.

"So, what is the reason for this divorce, is it infidelity?" The lawyer questioned as the two shook their heads no.

"I guess we just drifted apart." Y/N told them as they looked away from Wanda. Wanda hummed in agreement as the lawyer sighed.

"We won't be able to get this divorce finalised as fast as you both would like." He told the two as he placed his pen down. "You will need to be separated for at least 6 months before a divorce can be filed. Even then it's a trial separation and marriage counselling is advised."

Both Y/N and Wanda shared a look before Wanda looked away, leaving Y/N with the talking.

"I don't think that counselling is an option." Y/N told him. "This decision by the two of us is set in stone."

"So it will be a trial separation, then in 6 months we can revisit the divorce. If that is what you both really want." He said as the two nodded. "I understand you both have a prenup and you have children, yes?"

"Yes." Wanda answered. "We are going to split the custody."

"And I am moving out so Wanda and the boys have the house." They spoke up. "Also I am still going to be paying for the boys, providing for them. Whatever they need."

"I do suggest going through the court for the child support, just incase of unforseen circumstances." He told the two.

"You mean like if I don't pay it one month?" Y/N questioned, Wanda could see that they were getting irritated by the insinuation.

"Y/N isn't like that, they never ever let the boys down." Wanda defended them. "This marriage is ending, not because we don't love each other."

"But because I haven't really had the time to split between work, Wanda and the boys." Y/N admitted as they looked at Wanda. "And I can't make a promise of something that isn't really in my control as I do travel for work sometimes, and Wanda deserves more than what I can give her." Y/N looked at the lawyer as Wanda's gaze remained on her soon to be ex. "We're going to co-parent the boys and Wanda has my schedule and she will get any changes made to it too." Y/N informed them both. "I have also just made appointment to sign a lease at an apartment nearby."

"What about belongings?" He questioned as Y/N sat up straight.

"I already took everything of my own." They told him.

"You only took your clothes." Wanda told them as Y/N nodded.

"I did take everything of my own." They repeated. "All of the furniture and electrical gadgets are all yours and the twins, I won't take anything more than what I already have."

"Ok." The lawyer hummed. "It seems you have everything under control with this separation." He packed away his papers before bidding the two good luck.

"So." Wanda started as Y/N stood up, pushing their chair back in it's place.

"I best be off." They told her. "I've got these reports from last week that areway behind."

"Ok." Wanda whispered. "Do you maybe want to have dinner tonight? I'm sure the twins would love to see you." Y/N inhaled shakily as they looked at the woman who will always have their heart.

"Yeah." They nodded. "I'll be here at the usual time."

"Thank you." Wanda told them as she walked them to the door.

"Why don't you open a book shop." Y/N suggested as Wanda looked taken aback. "It was always a dream you had and you have more than enough money in your account to do it."

"I don't know the first thing about running a business." Wanda admitted as Y/N gave her a tender smile.

"The community college has a business course that you could do." They told her. "You could learn everything you need to."

"But I have the twins." Wanda told them.

"I can always have them on the nights you have classes." They told her honestly. "I know you can do this Wanda so please just, make your dream come true. Do it for yourself."

"You really think I can do it?" She whispered as Y/N just nodded.

"I know you can." With that, they left her as she watched them drive away from the house. She started to wonder amidst all of the separation, she forgot about the dream she had before the twins were even a thought. Maybe because when she had that dream, Y/N would be by her side as she opened.

Once Y/N had finally made into the office, Tony greeted them as he dragged them into his own office. Gesturing for them to take a seat as he closed the door.

"I hear that you are having some trouble at home." He stated as Y/N sighed.

"Wanda and I are going through a separation." They stated calmly.

"So that's the reason for the recent splurge in absences." He stated as Y/N nodded.

"I've had to move out and well, I have an appointment for an apartment near the house so I am still there for the twins." They rambled as Tony held his hand up for them to stop.

"I understand Y/N but we can't be behind on weekly reports. It's not a good sight, especially on me." Tony told them. "Maybe you should step down from your senior position."

"No. I don't need to." Y/N told him. "I only have one appointment left and then the rest I am going to be doing in my own time. It's just this is hard right now and well."

"Maybe you should take a sebatical?" He suggested as Y/N shook their head no.

"That isn't an option." They stated. "I can assure you that this will not happen again Mr Stark. I just have a small appointment this week which I can take out of my lunch break. It's just signing a lease and picking up the keys for my new place."

"I am trusting your word Y/N." He told them sternly as Y/N thanked him before heading back to their own office to get to work. Time passed fairly quickly as they sent the late reports of and started on the new. They had also completely lost track of time, so they soon raced to the house just in time for dinner to be served.

"O'PA!!!" The twins yelled once they entered the house.

"Hey boys." They beamed as they hugged the twins, kissing the top of their heads before seeing Wanda stood in the doorway. "I'm sorry I'm late."

"You're here, that's all that matters." Wanda stated indifferently. Although the sight of the three of them made her heart swell, she still felt the heartbreak that this is only brief.

The two listened as Tommy was telling them about an upcoming game he has this weekend to which both Y/N and Wanda stated they wouldn't miss it. That was something that Wanda could trust with Y/N, they never missed a chance to cheer on the boys.

"When's the decathlon meet?" Y/N asked Billy who smiled shyly, something he gets from his mom.

"In 4 months." He told them. "We're just studying for the possible subjects and questions we could be asked."

"That's awesome Billy." Wanda beamed at him.

"Be sure to save me a ticket for it." Y/N told him as he just nodded. Once dinner was over, the boys had disappeared to do their homework as Y/N helped Wanda clean.

"You don't have to do this." Wanda told them.

"I know." They said as they put the dishes away. "I guess I, never mind." Wanda turned to face them, seeing them troubled was something she never liked to see.

"Are you ok?" She asked them as they gave her a tight lipped smile.

"Yeah, I'm fine." They told her, although she didn't buy it. "I guess I am going to go."

"Yeah." Wanda nodded as she watched Y/N disappear to say goodbye to the twins before Wanda met them at the door. "Be careful." She told them as they nodded, already making their way back to the office to get up to date on the work that has been piling up on their desk. Their head in their hands as they let the tears slip through, wiping them away faster than they would fall.

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