#i cannot imagine my dad treating me like that

[mistress-light]

My aunt invited my mother's family for lunch. Me preparing for the inevitable family drama:

[daisies-on-a-cup]

i've always been fascinated by those who have "best friend" relationships with their parents. how do you joke around with them so care-free? does the authority of them being your parent and you being their child not hold as much weight? where is the line drawn with casualness and politeness? how is it that you can treat them as you would a "friend" but still hold them in the structure of "parent"? it's very hard for me to comprehend such a dynamic

[pseudowho]

Grandpapamin

(help me find the Nanami artist in the banner, for crediting and thanks/permission!)

When Nanami Kento becomes a grandfather...

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Kento thought the happiest day of his life was when he became a father...but then, his baby had a baby.

It was like love...squared.

He and you dutifully took care of your daughter's house while she was in labour. Kento pruned the plants, and baked, and paced, and paced, and paced.

While Kento knew in his heart his daughter was being well cared-for, he felt stunningly unable to protect her while she went through the biggest day of her life.

In the night, you woke, and your hand brushed out across the sheets for Kento...only to find him not there.

You creep through the house, and find him sat in the armchair by lamplight, his eyes glistening with tears as he goes through an old box, full of photographs of his baby, little onesies, a handprint in clay, a decoration she made at school, her first drawings and handwriting.

You sit with him, in front of the fire, warm and reminiscent, of those long-short years when your babies were babies.

"...she'll be alright?" He worries aloud.

"She'll be more than alright. She'll be amazing," you reassure, kissing his greying temples, stroking crow's feet.

You lead him back to bed, his hand dry, like soft warm leather, and you hold each other with the earnest familiarity of an aged love.

When Kento's phone rings at 7:37 in the morning, a time he never forgets, he is out of bed with a lithe hop, answering, desperate for news.

A sweet, swooping joy, an excited wake-up, an embrace and relief; his grandchild is born, and everyone is safe.

Kento has a grandson; his daughter is resplendent, pink-cheeked, exhausted and proud. Kento holds her close, shedding tears into her hair as she cradles his new grandson; "I'm so proud of you, darling. I always have been. You deserve him."

He drives his daughter and her partner home, knowing they are exhausted.

Kento and you never overstay your welcome; you ensure the new family is comfortable, give kisses and hasty reassurances that you are both just a phone call away, and go home.

Kento cannot stop jiggling his leg in delight on the way home. He is imagining all the wonderful things he wants to do with his new grandson.

Kento calls everyone-- Gojo, Yuuji, Ino, Higuruma. Everyone is delighted. Everyone secretly wants him to be their grandfather.

It is only when Kento and you have gone, that your partner opens the freezer-- "Oh my god!" They exclaim, laughing, "I think your dad has cooked enough to last us a month!" Kento has, obviously. He believes in being organised.

Kento spends the next few years of his life being a thoroughly naughty responsible grandfather.

Visiting Grandpapamin? Oh, only the finest will do.

While Kento always plans wonderful meals with you, his daughter turns her back for just one minute, and returns to find her son with a treat in his hand.

Kento pleads ignorance as he slides the biscuit tin back into the cupboard, a glint in his eye.

Wickedly good at hide and seek. Teaches his grandson all the tricks.

Takes his grandson down to the river, Kento in some waders, his grandson in shorts and rubber boots up to his knees, with little nets, glass jars on strings.

Kento has a reference book for everything; birds, fish, flowers, trees...he and his grandson catch minnows, his grandson splashing, holding his little round cheeks in joy.

Kento thinks his heart might burst, retaliating playfully when his grandson splashes him, giggling.

Kento's grandson is well-versed on the flora and fauna by the little river, by the time he is a grown man. All he wanted to inherit from his grandfather was the old reference books they pored over together.

His grandson inherits Kento's Cursed-sight too, a truth which Kento feels deeply responsible for, as he did when it passed down to his daughter. He fears for his grandson and the terrifying visions he will see in the world.

One day, you catch Kento teaching himself little magic tricks. He curses as he gets tangled in long colourful handkerchiefs; you laugh and blush as he pulls garish flowers out of his sleeve for you. He shows them to his grandson like he has known how to do magic his whole life.

After long sunny days in the garden and by the river, you often find Kento asleep with his snoozing grandson drooling on his chest. You take a photo, every single time, put a blanket over them and leave them in peace.

Kento, who tucks you under his arm on the sofa when they've all gone home, your evenings as intimate as they have always been.

Kento would rather his daughter didn't spend all of her hard-earned money on daycare. Instead, Grandpapamin arrives at her house at 7:30am sharp, ready to babysit ahead of the workday.

The days are silly, wholesome. Tears and tantrums are swiftly, calmly de-escalated. Kento can and will persuade and bribe at mealtimes.

Kento who is just disappointed when his grandson behaves badly-- and that is so much worse than angry.

Kento who takes such good care of his and your health, determined to spend as many healthy years with his family as possible. His old scars ache and creak though; he longs for the sun and sea.

The next year, his grandson is big enough to carry Kento's birthday cake to him, and Kento grumbles, pink-eared as he mulishly accepts a chorus of "Happy birthday". There is an envelope with the cake.

"What's this?" He grumbles again, shooting his daughter a chastising look, "I told you you didn't have to get me anything." She smiles at him, lovely brown eyes twinkling. Kento looks inside-- tickets. Flight tickets. He looks up in surprise, eyebrows raised.

"Kuantan?" He presses, excited despite his earlier chastisement.

"I thought we could all go. Together."

Though his blade hangs up on the wall, proud and displayed, at your insistence, Kento feels like he has been bestowed with the luck of the gods, to have dodged every bullet to get here.

His old scarred burns tingle and prickle, his eyepatch is old and worn, but his grandchildren never feared him; he is just Grandpapamin. He bakes. He takes them to the river. He teaches them how to whittle. He gives the best advice. He wears the softest cardigans.

Kento, who spends the golden years of his life with you, his world, the one who hung the stars.

[dontbesoweirdkira]

can you write about a rebel being bothered by invincible who joined his dad and took over the planet?

i'd imagine mark would see himself as a god because of how much stronger he is. So it's funny to him to see the rebel character resist when they both know she lives at his mercy. he'd take her to dates she didn't want, being her clothes, do sweet relationship stuff meanwhile the character is fuming everytime she sees him.

although some comments gets to him and spirals him into a converstion about how she is nothing compared to him to cope.

(LOVED your batsib x yandere!mark grayson thing btw ❤️)

A/N: Oh my gosh yes? I swear some of ya'lls minds are insane. Mark with an insufferable "god" complex is the best yandere Mark. I loved that the variants of him showed just how fucked up he truly can be. Can you tell which mark is my favorite based on how I wrote this lolll? Sorry this has taken forever to come out. I've been dealing with a lot this past year...forgive me.

Warnings: Dead Dove Don't Eat | yandere!mark, threats, violent descriptions, degradation, and abuse relationship dynamic.

Here's the funny thing about this scenario, Mark is convinced that he's such a good boy for "preserving" you. He doesn't seem to understand why you are so turned off to him when you got the best possible outcome a useless being such as yourself could get. He could've easily killed you or made you into some slave for Viltrumites to use and abuse, but no. You should be kissing his feet and worshiping the very ground he walks on for taking you as his personal..pet *cough* lover.

You hate who he has become. Mark is far from the sweet boy who used to walk you to class and pull all-nighters with. The old mark would never put his hands or you or treat you like some subhuman who should be blessed by his presence. Your heart breaks all over again whenever you wake up next to him, knowing that this isn't all some bad dream and he would probably never return to his old self.. I can't really blame you at all for your rebellion.

Mark tries to convince you that deep down he's always been like this and you need to get over it. The Viltrum way is the only right way to live, that's why humans die off so easily.. can't you see everything is so much better now?

In Mark's defense, he does *try* to retain some of his humanity for you and only you. Well...his own twisted sense of humanity that is. I agree with you that Mark would still take his darling on dates, use cute pet names and do human gushy ushy stuff.. that on paper you should be loving. He thinks that by doing the things you used to love to do with him, he can manipulate you into loving him again. It never really works because it ends with him not knowing how to act right. From forcing intimacy upon you to letting his violent tendencies towards others, especially humans, get the best of him. He'll rip someone's spine out of their body during a date simply because they glanced in your direction then go back to drooling over you like nothing even happened.

Not sure about you, but i'd be a little shit and bite the hell out of his lip whenever he tries to make-out with me. He'd definitely do a dry chuckle, then bite back, drawing blood because you hurt his ego a bit. (the type of man that tries to play it off by sexily sucking your lip and continuing with the kiss. I want to choke him out)

Mark's idea of cuddling is basically just strangling you while he goes on and on about himself or the plans he has for the both of you. Dear Lord, please save us. You can use all you might to push him off of you but he is rather unfazed by this and keeps talking.

Can you imagine Mark trying to be sweet by bringing you a pretty outfit since you mentioned how bland the clothes are that Viltrumites wear are, not expecting to be met with a negative reaction from you? You cannot tell me that he wouldn't be set off by that. He personally took precious time out of his day to get this custom made for you, it's your taste down to a t and he even had it GIFT WRAPPED for you----yet you couldn't be bothered to open it before you tossing it. Madness, he thinks.

He'd grab your hand and force you to fish through the garbage disposal and pick it up, then hold you down while he manhandled you into the outfit. (you have bruises and scratches all over you after that) The entire time he's spewing all sorts of degrading things at you, making sure he's hitting real deep just to make you cry at this point. Oh and you're only wearing that for the next couple of weeks since you're ungrateful, he doesn't care. How dare you disrespect him.

You're right, though. It is hilarious to him when you try fighting him back or acting tough, he's a king and you're his jester. I can see him egging you on at some points for him amusement. You know what he's doing and it only gets you more heated which in turn makes him poke fun at you more.

Tossing you around, pining you down and scaring you are sources of fun for him too. Likes when you get so fed up that you slap him too,,it's so cute and it feels like a tickle to him ..

"You're so damn pathetic, babe. This is why I keep you around, other humans aren't as adorable as you are.."

His very big yet very fragile ego is so on point tho too. He can take you fighting back and acting tough...but do not say shit about leaving him and do not attempt to.

The last time you did, and it genuinely seemed like you meant it to him, he flipped the fuck out. Like you always knew that Mark was batshit, but the way his eyes shifted into something sinister before dangling you by your ankle thousands of miles in the air, threatening to drop you and let the birds eat up your splattered guts...yeah, i'm good on that. You think you are going to just leave and have a better life without him? No way, baby. Death is the only way out of his *loving*chokehold.

Another way to cause him to act out is mentioning something about him being weak or not as great as he thinks he is. Bonus points if you compare him to someone else. You might think you're just getting under his skin as retaliation for whatever he did to upset you, but you are unleashing something you shouldn't..

"----You're nothing. A piece of gum stuck to the sidewalk has far more purpose in this world than you ever could. You could live a million lives, and never amount to me. You wanna do comparisons, huh? I'll show you how weak I am when I snap their fuckin' neck, they're not shit to me and neither are you--- so don't think I won't---"

Yeah he's talking all of this shit while you're trying not to black out from his hands that are tightly constricting your airflow.

I do think he's that much of a pussy that he would have this same reaction without even doing anything, really. He could see someone that he feels insecure about and he's so deluded that he convinces himself that you are somehow now in love with that person, even though you've never met them before...and now he's destroying the house when he comes home.

Once he comes down from his ego trip and realizes he almost just killed you and could've lost you for good over his immaturity, he's very very apologetic. Like the way he acts is the closest to his former self that you're going to get. His touch is suddenly gentle, and his head is thrown into your lap, begging you to forgive him. He goes on about how he is so stupid and he just wants you to love him blah blah "I didn't mean it sweetie" blah blah... yeah fuck you mark. He'd be soft until you're better and finally forgive him (just so he can stfu honestly) then he's back to his shenanigans.

There's so much I could write for this but I don't wanna go too far off of the request lmaoo. Please send in more for daddy Mark with an inflated ego. I need himmmm

[eviesaurusrex]

Harry Styles x High School Sweetheart!Reader (x Wife!Reader)

summary: Harry and YN were high school sweethearts and are celebrating their 15th anniversary.

faceclaim: Selena Gomez

warnings: none, pure fluff, not entirely proofread because it's late over here and I wanted to finish this before bed

author’s note: My first smau in a very long time. Please bear with me ;_; Disclaimer: The used manips are not mine, and I have not created them—the credits go to the creators (the creators’ names are on some of them). The reader is a classical music composer. Enjoy!

CelebrityStoryWatcher harrystyles just uploaded a new story of him and yourinstagram cooking at their family home in London, England, before deleting it again.

2,318,991 likes | 665,001 comments

ynfan1 How can she be so stunning???

ynandharold the way he made her laugh. "you sure you don't try to feed an entire army, love? who is supposed to eat all of that??" in that over-dramatic tone of his ;_; <3

hsfangirl Who still wants to be YN even after all these years?

Liked by 362 people.

yngirlboss Exfuckingcuse me while I try to process this. I'll be forever grateful for Harry because he makes her so bloody happy

hsfan2 i'm pretty sure this video was meant for his finster :x

↳ ynfan2 oh, definitely. It was gone so fucking fast, I barely could click on it lol

harryisdaddy He's such a simp for his wife. If he could, he would spam Instagram with her pretty face, can't tell me otherwise

ynismommy i love how cozy they both are at home. you can see how comfortable they are around each other ;_;

↳ hs_fineart that just comes naturally when you've been besties since 14, a couple since 16, and married since 26 <3

styles_spotter They have their anniversary tomorrow, don't they???????

annetwist Today, we celebrate your special day. Thank you for making my son the happiest boy ever since the day you two met. Happy anniversary, my loves ♡

978,351 likes | 35,227 comments

hsfan1 not anne making me cry in the early morning hours ;_; look at these two cuties going strong for 15 years! happy anniversary mom and dad!!!!

hs_ynfandom Happy anniversary!

ynfan1 Anne shipped them from the very first day, YOU CANNOT CHANGE MY MIND

hsfan2 my single-heart cries in both happiness and envy. how does someone find their soulmate??? yn really need to write a guide for all those singles out here

harry_and_yn Power couple since day 1!

yourinstagram Thank you so much, Anne <3 It's easy when your son is a literal angel walking this earth

Liked by harrystyles, pillowpersonpp, and 12,886 others.

↳ annetwist You helped turn him into the man he is today ♡

yn_and_harry_haven The way they both started as cuties and grew into the most handsome/gorgeous people on this planet is INSANE. We, as a society, are not ready for their daughter to grow up.

gemmastyles MY FAVORITE SISTER IN LAW. I am forever thankful for having you as my sister—perhaps not by blood, but we are as close as they come. Happy anniversary, lovies! Make him treat you like a queen today

↳ harrystyles I obviously treat her like a queen every single day she walks on this earth.

↳ yourinstagram G ;_; ♡ I love you so much! And he really does <3 I love you too, H

Liked by annetwist, gemmastyles, and 5,209 others.

harrystyles_fangirl this family loves each other so much, i want what they have.

hanszimmer In our years working together, I not only had the pleasure of getting to know yourinstagram both creatively and personally, but harrystyles as well. In those years, I witnessed their love grow in the most beautiful of ways, and not just once have they been my inspiration for certain pieces. I wish you all the happiness for the next 15 years. Happy anniversary to our music power couple!

948,990 likes | 45,628 comments

ynfan1 Being besties with this century's mastermind of film music composition (because he taught you everything) is certainly a flex

yn_fandom imagine mr hans zimmer congratulates you on your anniversary because he grew so fond of you during all the years you were his protégé. AND he likes your husband. my life would be completed. happy anniversary, yn and harry!

hsfan1 Hans Zimmer likes Harry. Love that for our music king!

harrystyles Your words mean so much to me—to us. Thank you! I hope we can dive back into our discussions someday soon. I know YN would love to see you again. x H.

↳ yourinstagram I only can agree with my husband, Hans. Thank you for your wonderful and loving words—and for every moment you gave your all when it came to my training and education. Without you, I wouldn't be where I am today. You're always welcome in England!

↳ hanszimmer I'll never say No to a Styles invitation x

ynismommy for everyone who doesn't know: mr zimmer is the godfather of their daughter! that's how close they are. it's insane when you think about it. this girl (and any future children) will grow up with so much music and love and talent in their genes, they'll conquer the world.

↳ harry_and_yn And their children will probably the loveliest human beings because their parents are (I once met them on a stroll through London and they were THE NICEST, I still think about their kindness)

↳ ynismommy they definitely will! and truuuue, i only met yn, but she's such an angel. harry is probably the exact same because i can't see her being with someone unkind and uncaring

Liked by harry_and_yn, ynfan3, hsfan5, and 56 others.

ludovico_einaudi No one has ever spoken truer words, my friend. Happy anniversary, YN and Harry! May the next 15 years be as wonderful as the last.

↳ yourinstagram Why is everyone trying to make me cry today? ;_; Thank you so incredibly much, Ludovico

Liked by ludovico_einaudi, hanszimmer, and 4,815 others.

harrystyles My best friend. My wife. The mother of my sunshine. My darling love. You have collected so many titles in our time together, but either way, you will be, first and foremost, the love of my life. My soulmate. My muse. The essence of my happiness. You are the light of my life, the sun around which I orbit, the center of my universe, and the guiding star I look for in the sky in moments I am lost. I will forever be grateful for every second of your attention you grant me, for every tired I love you whispered in the darkness before drifting off into sleep, for making me a father and giving me something I have always wished and hoped for.

Thank you for the past 15 years, my love. Happy anniversary. x H.

4,686,998 likes | 1,329,750 comments

hsfan1 The way I am sitting on my couch now, contemplating this post, and knowing I will cry myself to sleep tonight.

yn_stylesforever no one has won in life as much as YN LN-Styles <3

ynfan1 Uhm... A NEVER BEFORE SEEN YN PHOTO?! She looks so happy T_T <3

↳ yn_and_harry my thoughts??????? Harry is feeding us

gemmastyles You, my beloved brother, are absolutely and entirely gone for this woman (and I don't want it any other way). Happy anniversary, baby brother. You deserve nothing less.

↳ harrystyles Don't make me cry, Gemma. YN will never stop teasing me about it. I can feel her watching. x

↳ yourinstagram Oh, you mean like I never forget to mention your tears at our wedding? <33

↳ harrystyles Exactly. xx

↳ gemmastyles To be quiet honest, you weren't any better that day, YNN. And why do I only get one kiss?!

↳ yourinstagram I don't know what you mean.

↳ styles_spotter these three are literally everything ;_;

mitchrowland Congratulations, H. And YNN, of course!! A life without your love can't be imagined ♡

jefezoff Congrats to my dream couple and one true shipping! To more beautiful children and wonderful years

↳ yourinstagram Not too many and not too soon, mind you. Or do you want to babysit Darcy? She loves to keep you awake for the majority of the night :3

↳ jefezoff ... I appreciate my sleep.

↳ hsfan2 poor babies ;_; but we need more beautiful styles babies!

ynfan2 Not me sobbing over those pictures and the fact how fast little Darcy is growing T_T

yourinstagram I love you more than life itself, H.

↳ ynfansite after all this time <33

pillowpersonpp Happy anniversary to my favorite singer and favorite composer!

yourinstagram Harry. Ever since the day Mrs. Merryweather put me on the seat next to you, I knew it was destiny. I knew you'd be my best friend; I knew you'd be my love if I had the courage to act on my feelings, and I knew I'd marry you someday. I just knew. And I was right. You gave me more than I could have ever hoped for; you loved me more than I could have ever hoped for. You, my love, are the best thing that could have ever happened to me, and I thank the universe every single day for allowing me to love you—and be loved by you. Thank you for making me a mother, being the incredible father you are, and raising our children together—with love and kindness.

Happy anniversary, H. To more love, more anniversaries, more happiness ♡

2,701,632 likes | 998,582 comments

annetwist I am so proud of you both for being such wonderful parents to Darcy and always supporting each other ♡

ynfan1 Gosh, today is an emotional day.

↳ gemmastyles My thoughts exactly

↳ hsfan1 Gemma is here D:

harry_and_yn i love how much they love each other

hsfan2 Both treat us with never before seen pictures of each other and I can't handle it. Mustache!Harry still is a sight to behold lol

harrystyles Oh, my love xx

↳ yourinstagram Come upstairs as soon as that call is over. I want to kiss my husband

↳ harryisdaddy YN decided to see the internet burn

ramindjawadi_official Happy anniversary to my favorite composer! Please bring little Darcy and your husband to our next meeting

↳ yourinstagram <3 Will do!

↳ ynfan2 Everyone loves Baby Styles so much

taylorswift I hope Harry is taking over some of those night shifts! Happy anniversary, you two, and let me play auntie as soon as you both need some time alone <3

ynfan3 Seeing them kiss still makes me blush because even on pictures, you always feel their burning chemistry ;_;

harry_and_yn_fandom On the anniversary of our favorite couple, we need to have a throwback to YN's Instagram story of their road trip to Italy a few years ago.

2,681 likes | 548 comments

hsfan1 I was so freaking anxious because I didn't know who was driving holy shit

↳ hsfan2 lol same. Until I realized they were stuck in a traffic jam at the Swiss border xD

Liked by hsfan1 and 21 others.

ynfandom The way her eyes always softened when looking at him <33

hsfan3 Harry felt the playlist on that day—and YN was just happy to be in his presence :3

yn_and_harry to be honest, her story made me realize they would be together forever and ever. Until death do us part and all that

↳ harry_is_fineart Definitely. And the way he took her hand after his solo of Another One Bites The Dust and how he asked her if everything was okay and if she was happy. He's the stuff women write about in romance novels.

ynfan1 Fun fact: I met Harry at a Subway right after the Italian border because YN got hungry and craved a sub and a cookie (and he was pretty tired and wanted a coffee). He stood in line while YN snuck to the driver's seat to drive their remaining route. It was so cute seeing him stand on the driver's side, sighing with a head shake, and submitting to his woman's decisions :D

↳ hsfan4 no way! That's so cute T_T

harrystylesfangirl "You know, I always get to hear you sing without paying for concert tickets." - "I'll always sing for you, my love. Doesn't matter where and when. You're my favorite audience." - "And you are mine, H." Heart eyes ensuing. This video and their conversation lives rent free in my head :D <3

↳ ynismommy I'm sure they are each other's first listeners, even before the crew and their labels.

↳ pillowpersonpp They are. Always.

;

As always: Thank you so much for reading and enjoying my silly little writing. Please consider leaving a like, a comment, and a reblog! <3

[gloomwitchwrites]

Tattoo Artist Simon "Ghost" Riley x Female Reader

Chapter Specific Warnings: swearing, trauma, therapy, unprotected piv, oral sex (female receiving)

Word Count: 4k

A/N: Part Twenty-Eight of Ink & Needle

The aftermath of Kit’s actions influences your daily life. You proposition Simon with the hope of moving forward.

Chapter Twenty-Seven // Chapter Twenty-Nine

ao3 // main masterlist // ink & needle masterlist

Three Months Later

Healing isn’t linear. It is not kind or forgiving. The strangeness of therapy is how it resembles a spiderweb, beautiful at a glance but a lie. There is nothing beautiful in facing what you wish to leave behind. Sticky and lethal and pure carnage rehashed over and over again until talking it out becomes a numbing dullness.

Hope therapy goes well today. Love you.

Evie’s text stares up at you from the phone screen. She’s been a good friend through all of this, giving you space yet standing by your side. How the roles have reversed, become opposite from where it all started.

Bravo’s wet nose pushes into your palm, forcing your attention away from the phone screen.

“Hello, Bravo,” you croon softly, scratching the underside of his chin. “You good boy. Best boy!” His tail whips around in a circle, kicking up a breeze.

Simon’s dog has attended every therapy session with you. At first, you thought is strange that Simon insisted on it, but now you can’t imagine not having the German Shepherd there. Nearly all of your appointments occur during 141 Ink’s business hours. Simon cannot join you in person, but he can send a piece of himself along.

“Where’s your dad?” you tease. “Do you see him?”

Bravo stretches his neck, glancing around for Simon. It lasts only a moment. He is clearly far more interested in the attention you’re giving him.

“He is right here.”

Simon’s voice wraps around like a warm hug. You went without it for so long that now it’s a treat every time you hear him speak.

Bravo pivots out of your touch, taking a step forward to situate himself between you and Simon.

Simon’s eyebrows rise slightly as he crosses his arms over his chest. The body language stands in stark contrast to his massive grin. “Protecting her, are you? Even from me?” Bravo half-whines, half-barks. Simon chuckles. “That’s my boy.”

He gives Bravo a quick pat on the head before stepping around the dog. You immediately lean into Simon, one hand pressing into his chest as he cups the side of your neck, his thumb resting on the front of your throat. There is a protective, nearly primal quality to the way Simon’s features shift as his attention turns to you

“Am I late?” he asks.

You shake your head. “No.” Presenting your mouth, Simon descends slowly, meeting you with a serenely sensual kiss.

All the quiet, simmering anxiety that sits in the back of your mind melts away like a last snow, leaving behind a plethora of green grass that reaches for the sun. Simon is your beacon in the dark, the candle flame that lights your way.

One kiss is not enough. You need a second. A third.

The old flame of desire snakes upward, slithering between your bones to settle in your chest. It is asking for the thing you’ve denied yourself the last three months—an intimacy you had with Simon before everything happened.

A fourth kiss. A fifth. Desire tightens its languid body, constricting until your breath catches.

“Get a room!”

The voice of a passing stranger breaks the enchantment, the building desire retreating to hide amongst brown leaves and sticks.

Your cheeks grow hot just as a scowl appears on Simon’s face. Shoulder’s straightening, Simon is gearing to tell the interloper off, but you grab at Simon’s hand the second he begins to turn. A light tug is all it takes. Just your touch, and Simon’s scowl recedes to a soft smile that he only ever gives to you.

With a quick shrug of his shoulders, Simon clears his throat and takes Bravo’s offered leash, wrapping it around his tattooed knuckles. He places his hand low on your back, ushering you toward his parked car.

“How was therapy?”

Simon asks every time—a loaded question.

You exhale through your nostrils, briefly glancing away from him because telling the truth is fucking hard, especially when it involves him. You settle on a half-lie.

“Fine,” you reply. “Productive.”

Fine? Yes. Productive? No.

Simon’s head tilts slightly, gaze assessing like he doesn’t entirely believe you. “Up for company today?”

This you can appreciate it. Simon may always ask how therapy went but he never pushes further than you’re willing to give.

“Not really,” you answer, this time truthfully.

Evie’s unanswered text is as much a reminder as Simon’s questions. Things are different now. Normal cannot be what it once was. There are fractures you hold in your heart, memories that you wish you could erase with a quick snap of the fingers.

Simon nods, apparently content with your answer. “Then we’ll go home.”

It’s a short walk to the car, but you savor every second, leaning against Simon with each step. He talks your ear off about nothing, filling the air with what he did at the shop today, and the customers he had even as he helps you into the car.

It’s a lovely distraction. Which is why Simon is doing it at all. He knows. He understands. Simon is not a chatty person, he’s usually blunt with his words, more to the point than anything else. He prefers fewer words than long-winded nothings, and him keeping you distracted like this goes against everything he’s comfortable with.

But Simon doesn’t know what you talk about in those sessions with the therapist, and you refuse to share it with him. He also doesn’t ask, and for that, you’re fucking grateful. You’re still coming to terms with it yourself, shuffling through the two and a half months you were gone.

Sometimes, you think things would be easier if Kit had just hurt you. That’s the expected thing, to be mutilated in unforgiveable ways. You think about his choices often, what was going through his head, and why he never raised a single hand to you. The silence you received instead is almost worse somehow. Kit refused to speak with you, and the only other person who saw was the man that brought you your meal. He refused to say anything to you—refused to even glance in your direction. It wasn’t until the coffin that you heard the first human voice other than your own in two months.

And the voice was Simon’s. Not Kit’s. Simon’s.

Today, you talked about the coffin.

Not that you actually remember it. You only saw it after you were released from the hospital. Simon took you to some military base because Captain Price thought that seeing it in person might trigger a memory. He was firmly against it, insisted that you didn’t have to do this, but you pushed back, wanting to see what that monster put you in. Simon backed down, but setting your gaze on the thing that you nearly died in turned your limbs to stone and your mind to smeared jelly.

Simon was fucking furious. You’ve seen him upset—and you thought you knew what anger looked like on him. How wrong you were. Kyle stepped in and escorted you out of the room. You might have been on the other side of the wall but it only damped the screaming match that happened. Their words were heated, the exchange loud, and though you didn’t catch all of it, you picked up pieces.

Don’t involve her again.

This is my price to pay.

She’s suffered enough.

Kyle, while leaning against the wall next to you and fidgeting with his watch, had given you a solemn smile, an attempt to reassure but only left you feeling hollow.

“Don’t fret over it,” he had said. “Simon loves you is all. Price knows that.”

“They’re screaming at each other,” you murmured.

Kyle shrugged, the smile becoming more sincere and genuine. “Price will hug him after he’s done yelling. Simon will grunt.” He winked. “All good, love. Promise.”

Simon never brought you to another military base or anything to do with what happened again. If anyone reached out to him to insist, you never heard about it.

But of what you do remember, it’s of what happened before the coffin, how Kit smiled when he brought you your meal. You didn’t know it was drugged then. He hid it well, disguising the taste and texture. You should have known something was wrong when Kit sat on the floor across from you and watched you gobble up every bite. But you had been hungry, and having another person near felt so comforting in the moment.

“Movie sound good?”

You inhale sharply, turning toward Simon’s voice. He’s standing next to you, passenger door open, the middle of the brow creased with concern by your reaction. The two of you are already home.

“I’m sorry,” you murmur. “What did you ask?”

The corners of his lips turn downward. You’ve slipped off again—left reality for a bit.

“A movie,” repeats Simon. “After dinner. Thought we could stay in tonight.”

Bravo shoves his face between the front passenger seat and the interior of the car. His dark eyes dart between the two of you, impatience clear in the way his tail thump thump thumps against the backseat.

“Great,” you reply, slipping out of the car.

Simon’s gaze remains impassive, but he doesn’t say anything. Instead, he takes your hand, Bravo trotting along behind the two of you.

Inside, Simon takes your coat, hanging it up next to his before heading into the kitchen to start the kettle. It’s April now, but the weather is still chilly on occasion, and you could go for a tea.

“The new visa should arrive soon,” says Simon, flipping the tap on the electric kettle. “Price made a few calls.” Grabbing two mugs from the cupboard, he sets them down on the counter before turning around to face you. “Could get you a different one. A longer stay.” He pauses, a hopefulness twinkling in his eye. “Citizenship even.”

With everything that’s happened, Simon still wants you here, with him. Hands clasped in front of you, you meander into the kitchen, almost sauntering in the way you approach him. Simon’s eyelids grow heavy, that earlier desire forming in his gaze. The two of you have touched and kissed, but the few times any further intimacy has been initiated, it’s been by Simon. You weren’t committed then, still confused and dripping with a sense of being unclean.

When you’re ready. No rush.

Respect for you outweighs his desire. Simon made you aware in other ways—subtle glances and touches, gentle compliments—but never pushed, never made you feel like sex is an expectation. He handed you the ball and bat with the only request that you swing when ready.

“Is that what you want, Simon? For me to stay?”

As you draw closer, Simon’s hands instinctually reach out to you. You do not shy away but step into his embrace. Those large, tattooed hands of his clutch your waist, pulling you closer until you’re nearly flush against him.

“There are few things I want more.”

“Only a few?” you tease, and you’re greeted with a warm smile.

“Nothing, then.”

The kettle starts to boil, but Simon ignores his, all of his attention focused on you.

“I don’t want to watch a movie. Think I’d like to do something else.”

Simon shrugs. “Course, love. Whatever you want.” He shifts slightly to plop a teabag into each mug and then carefully pours the water over the top. “We can watch the next episode of that show—”

“No,” you interject, and Simon sets the kettle down. “I mean—” You lick your lips, unsure of how you want to approach this. “I want to…try.”

Simon blinks. “Try,” he says slowly. “Try…what?”

It takes every ounce of control to not laugh at Simon’s confusion. Placing your hand on his chest, you slide it lower, and lower still until the confusion on his face melts away and realization dawns. Without breaking eye contact, Simon grasps your wrist and draws your hand away as it falls dangerously close to brushing against his groin.

“Only if you’re ready,” he murmurs, though you hear the hunger. “Don’t do it on my account.”

“I miss you.”

“I’m right here, love.”

As you press into him, Simon’s resolve splinters. Your face is upturned, lips slightly parted in offer, and Simon’s mouth is just shy of connection. You breathe him in just as he does you. There is nothing you want more, to be consumed by him, to reconnect in the one way you’ve been without.

Simon lightly grasps the bottom-half of your face. “After dinner,” he says, and the curling need pooling low in your belly squirms with discontent.

“Now,” you breathe, a demand.

Simon’s eyelids flutter. Close. He takes a deep, steadying breath before opening them again. “If I sink inside you right now, I won’t last.”

The admission only enflames the already burning embers. You desperately need to cross this hurdle, to find this intimacy with Simon again. With one hand free, you gently cup him through his jeans, rubbing, finding him hard and wanton.

Simon growls, and then you’re being lifted. He shoves everything out of the way, hot water spilling into the sink and onto the floor. The tea is forgotten, the bags briefly floating in the sink before the water disappears down the drain.

“I’m not taking you like this,” says Simon, forehead pressing against yours. “We’re having tea. Dinner. And only after will I indulge you.”

“Think the tea is ruined, Simon.”

“Fucking hell,” he mutters, closing the distance to seize you in a fierce kiss.

Everything about it is honey-drenched. Sticky. Slightly sweet. You open for him, and he goes for a taste, his hand on your throat like a collar. This is the passion you remember; the wanton need you crave.

It is not gone. Only buried.

As your hands roam, the kissing only becomes more desperate. Your thighs trap his waist, but he makes no move to retreat. Not like you could stop him. He’s far stronger than you, and even in that strength he’s aware of it, not grasping too tightly.

Fingers delve, and in seconds you have the front of Simon’s jeans open, slipping your hand inside to find his warmth. As your fingers brush his skin, Simon breaks the kiss, nearly choking on his next breath as he draws back.

“Dinner first,” he groans, grabbing your wrist and forcing your hand from his pants. “Food first.”

“You’re a tease, Simon Riley,” you whimper.

He chuckles, low and knowing. “Like making you squirm.”

Dinner is a much longer affair than you’d like, as if Simon has an eternity to feed you. Every time you try to help, he shoos you off, telling you to relax and enjoy your cuppa. You eventually give up, curling up with Bravo on the sofa watching reality television as Simon putters about.

When he finally hands you your plate, you scarf it down in record time, promptly setting it aside to stare at Simon longingly.

“After,” he repeats.

“Buzzkill.”

Simon reaches over and squeezes your thigh, returning to his meal, gaze locked on the television. You try to refocus, but your mind is locked on a singular goal like you’re a man thinking with his dick and not his brain.

With a final scrape of his fork across his plate, Simon clears it, sighing with contentment. Reaching for your plate, he starts cleaning up, still insisting that you don’t move from the couch at all. This time, you don’t put up a fight, deciding it is better to snuggle with Bravo.

“Bed, Bravo,” snaps Simon. The German Shepherd grumbles as he lifts his head from your lap and dramatically slides off the couch. “To think you used to sniff out bombs,” mutters Simon, shaking his head. “Off with you.”

Bravo disappears down the hall, and then Simon is turning to you, holding out a hand in offering. “Come here to me.”

The delivery in his voice leaves no room for denial. Pushing off from the couch and reaching for his hand is easy. You want this—need this.

Simon’s arms go around you, holding you close. That soft smile returns and you answer it with one of your own.

“Still want to do this?”

“I’m sure.”

Simon’s thumb lightly grazes the line of your jaw. “Tell me if you want to stop. Promise me.”

“Promise,” you murmur.

“That’s my girl.”

With your hand in his, Simon walks backward into the bedroom. He pulls you in as he shuts the door, teasing a kiss but not giving it to you. You try to steal one anyway, but Simon knows you too well, leaning away at the last second as he slips his hand from yours.

There is no mask. No anymore. Haven’t seen it at all unless he’s at the shop, working. His sweatshirt goes, followed by his shirt, leaving him bare from the waist up. Even in the dark with a just a hint of moonlight, you can glimpse him.

Corded muscle. Endless tattoos.

Your hands copy his movements, removing an article of clothing one at a time. All this time you’ve been rushing, and now that you’re here, the undressing is slow. Languid. Simon is done before you, and even in the dark you notice the way his hands clench and unclench with the anticipation of touching you.

You barely have your socks and pants off before Simon is grasping for you, hands groping ass and hip, mouth coming down on yours with desperation. In this, you feel utterly wanted, as if there is nothing he requires more than to be one with you.

Simon’s erection presses into your lower stomach, an insistent thing that both of you ignore. His kisses are your favorite, you want them forever, and that is all you can focus on even as your grow slicker between the thighs.

You drape your arms over his shoulders and then connect them behind his neck, clinging like he’ll disappear if you don’t. Simon’s hands slide over your back and down to your ass, filling his hands as squeezing. Angling your hips up a bit, he rubs himself against you, a low groan leaving him as the base of his erection brushes the side of your clit.

Forget slow. Forget the fact that Simon admitted he wouldn’t last.

Unlocking your arms from around his neck, you reach back and grab one of Simon’s groping hands. Bringing it between your bodies, you guide his fingers to your pussy, desperately needing him to touch you. His thick fingers slide easily over your sex, your arousal apparent.

You shiver from the contact, but Simon? Simon growls, low and feral, and utterly primal. Flattening three fingers against your sex, Simon parts you, the middle finger teasing your entrance with a soft caress. It hovers, and then starts to slide in.

Simon’s lips move away from your mouth and to your chin, then to your jaw, and then your throat. More of his finger enters.

“I missed you,” you whimper as he settles to the knuckle. Simon’s teeth graze your neck as his finger begins to slide back out. “Every. Day.”

Simon adds a second finger, pumping both in perfect rhythm. “I’m here now, love. Right here. Not going anywhere.”

“Oh, fuck,” you gasp as Simon’s palm rubs against your clit. “I—love—”

“Love, what?” coaxes Simon.

“You. I love you.”

Simon’s teeth no longer graze but they don’t bite down. They trace a line up your throat before taking a nip at your bottom lip. His fingers begin to retreat again but you grasp the back of his hand, pressing, urging him back inside.

“Don’t be gentle with me,” you murmur, rocking your hips, fucking yourself on his fingers. “Fuck me the way you want to. Please.”

Simon’s head tilts to the side. “You sure about that, love?”

You whimper, nodding, pussy clenching around his fingers as his palm lightly rubs against your clit again. It’s lovely—slowly building that orgasm you so desperately crave. But then Simon’s fingers are gone and in his mouth, sucking them clean.

Your brain short circuits, unable to comprehend the change until Simon is guiding you onto all fours on the bed. He places a hand on your upper back, urging your front into the mattress as your ass stays up in the air. Guiding your legs apart, you expect him to settle between, to mount you and rut.

His mouth finds you instead, tongue parting your pussy from clit to opening then back again. You press back against his mouth and Simon makes a feast of you. The orgasm is a slap in the face. It doesn’t arrive slowly but as a thunderous force, nearly smashing you over the head with its intensity.

Thighs quiver. Legs shake. You cry out so loud you think Simon might stop. He doesn’t. He only continues through the ordeal, urging toward another and yet another until there are tears in your eyes. Only then does he draw back, wettened lips kissing the backs of your thighs and the curve of your ass.

His strong hands rub up and down the length of your back. Soothing and comforting at first, but then demanding, helping you turn until you’re facing him. Limbs like jelly, you allow Simon to draw you into his lap, to ease your legs to fall on either side of him, to help guide you to and then onto his cock.

“Want me to stop?” he asks, voice gruff.

You vehemently shake your head. “No. Want you. Always.”

With a final effort, Simon rocks his hips up just as he presses down on your hips. Every inch is inside of you, stretching, filling. You’re full of him, but it’s not enough. You need him to move.

“Simon,” you beg.

Shifting his arms, he supports you with his hands and forearms as well as his thighs. It forces your legs up and open, ankles and feet dangling. A slice of moonlight cuts through the room, highlighting the space where your bodies meet. With your forehead resting against his cheek, you watch as Simon guides you up and down his length, disappearing and then reappearing with a shine.

Keeping one arm hooked behind his neck, you reach between your bodies, fingers finding your clit. You create a v with index and middle finger, parting your pussy to open you up more, to capture the place where Simon’s cock penetrates you.

He’s hardly keeping it together as you tease the base of his cock with a fingernail Simon’s whimper instinctually has your pussy tightening around him.

“I want you to come inside me,” you whisper, breath brushing over his cheek. Simon’s hands tighten, fingers digging into your flesh as he ceases sliding and starts thrusting. “Please,” you add with a hint of longing.

He cannot say no. Simon never does.

In seconds, Simon has you on your back, flattening you against the bed. With one hand above your head, fisting the sheets, he rests the other on the inner thigh of your left leg, holding it wide and open for a better angle.

Simon’s first thrust is brutal. He buries his face against your neck, and doesn’t fucking stop. Every time your bodies connect, he grunts loudly. The muscles in his back bulge beneath your palms.

This is not healing. This is carnage. This is a burial.

Simon is digging your grave but not to leave you to rot. You are to be wholly submerged, wholly undone in the dark, to be thread unspooled. You will linger in this grave, in Simon’s arm, to know only of him. And then, only then, will you be unearthed from the dirt.

In the morning, with the light, there will be a calmness that smothers all. A closing of a door that will never be reopened. There is no definition in past, only a resounding future, and you must take it—seek it.

“I love you,” groans Simon.

His words are what does it, that breaks the flood, and shows you the way forward.

“You’re mine.”

These words are not a groan, more a plea. You’re mine because he wants it so, and all you need to do is agree.

Mine.

Mine.

“Love you.”

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[canideformed]

I keep seeing this post going around about how autistic people “understand hierarchies” and just don’t respect them.

That is not representative of all autistic people.

I am literally incapable of understanding hierarchies. I can understand that social rules say person 1 is above person 2 in an abstract sense, but, when it comes down the the actual way that happens IRL, when it comes down to understanding that dynamic, how I’m supposed to act in that dynamic, why that dynamic exists, etc., I literally do not and have never understood. And years of abuse partially resulting from that lack of understanding being seen as “defiance” didn’t help.

I do not understand how these hierarchies function.

Earlier this year my parents got mad at me because I kept asking the flight attendant questions about why they were making us power off our devices (automated fog landing). From my perspective, I was just curious. My mom had to explain to me that I was supposed to just listen to them without asking questions. I did not understand that either. She had to break it down by telling me it probably just wasn’t the best time to be asking and that it was probably seen as me arguing or talking back or whatever.

You might think ok, now I understand. But no. I don’t know how to describe it but to say a gear just stops turning—I ask myself “am I supposed to ask this? Is this the way I’m supposed to behave?” and the answer my brain gives is… silence. A lot of things just make sense to me intuitively. I love science, especially physics, and did very well at math (not involving arithmetic, thanks probably-dyscalculia diagnosed-arithmetic-impairment). But for some reason this stuff just does. Not. Follow. And I will try my best, and maybe I will happen to act correctly a few times, but, in the end, my fundamental lack of understanding will cause me to be perceived as “defiant” or “disrespectful.” I’m going to try to be better on flights but to be honest I can very easily picture myself doing something similar if the situation were to be slightly different.

I don’t think a lot of people get how hard it is to really internalise hierarchies, even hierarchies people have explained to you, if you don’t actually understand them. Like yeah my mom explained that I was expected not to ask the questions I did, but let enough time pass and I forget that extremely specific interaction and I’m back at square 1 just because I can’t think “wait mom said that I’m not supposed to do that last time.”

The reason the post I described above bothers me is because that exact expectation has had a direct hand in my abuse. I was treated like a problem child. Like I was defiant. My dad secretly believed I had ODD. Imagine being a kid and freaking out because, to you, you were acting very normally and then the other person got mad. Crying because you don’t understand why they’re mad at you. And then your caregivers punish you even more. Imagine being a kid who is hurt and scared because you don’t understand what you did wrong and having your caregivers respond by taking you to your room, pulling down your pants, spanking you, and telling you you’re being bad or “eres un necio/travieso/mocoso.” * And now imagine that your brain is wired in such a way that, despite all of that, you cannot, you are incapable of ever “learning” to understand this stuff.

You can see why it might strike a nerve to hear people say that, actually, we do understand hierarchies and are choosing to not respect them!

Please try to stop making sweeping statements about what autistic people “do” or “don’t” understand. We’re individuals. And claiming that we “actually do” understand something without clarifying it’s only some of us only leaves behind those of us who can’t.

* I put this in untranslated because it’s a little bit different in Spanish. It translates to “you’re a fool/naughty (person)/brat,” but basically gets used to mean “you’re being foolish/naughty/bratty.” Imo that double meaning definitely impacted how I saw myself, especially as an autistic kid taking everything very literally, so. Wanted that to be accurate. My parents never directly called me a “bad kid” but overall it’s definitely something I internalised.

[moeswriting]

good morning, miller | mine one-shot

this is a part of my series Mine. i highly suggest reading that first to make sense of the little things in this fic. takes place between chapters three and four.

pairing: mine!Joel Miller x f!reader

summary: mornings with the millers,

or sarah’s first day of kindergarten

warnings: doesn’t really make complete sense unless you’ve read Mine, unbelievable amounts of fluff, joel miller is a grumpy boy without his coffee :(, sarah miller doesn’t need coffee– she’s hoarded all the energy (what the fuck, she just stole mine– SARAH GIVE IT BACK!!!!), reader needs some iced tea and a nap, mention of breakfast food (bacon, eggs, that kinda stuff), reader is wearing  Joel’s shirt (described as “fitting you well”, no other description), some subtle hints to Sarah having some really intense ADHD but it’s never said explicitly

word count: 2k

a/n: a little treat for all y’all who waited so long for chapter three <3

series masterlist | read on ao3

✦ ✦ ✦

August 14th, 1995

“DADDY!” With a scream, something light flops down onto his chest, startling him awake.

“Daddy. Daddy. Daddy. DAD!” Sarah emphasizes each word with a bounce, pushing the air out of his lungs.

When he creaks his eyes open, dust piled in the corners of them, it’s bright– sun shining through the window on the side of his bed and warming his bare back. He would give anything for another hour in bed.

“Dad,” she draws out, grabbing the sides of his face and pushing his cheeks together, “It’s my first day of school. You need to get up! Sugar is making breakfast, so you need to get up.”

She’s already dressed and ready to go– hair puffy, but pushed out of her face with her favorite pink butterfly clips, a pink shirt with a few Care Bears on it and jean overalls with little strawberries on the front pocket. It’s very clear to him that you’ve done this since everything looks coordinated and doesn’t clash like it usually does when he dresses her and it isn’t her princess dress, which is what Sarah would’ve put on if she had dressed herself. He wishes you were still in bed with him– he can feel your absence like a missing limb, like a vital part of him is gone. 

His voice comes out muffled, since she’s squishing his cheeks, when he replies, “O’ay, ‘m up.”

She lets out a yelp of excitement, jumps off him, and slides off his tall bed and onto the floor. The only part of her that he can see as she runs out of the room is the top of her hair as it bounces around the bed and out of the door.

When his feet hit the hardwood floor, he shivers. It’s cold, much too cold without you next to him.

He pulls a pair of jeans off the floor and slips them on. Where’s that stupid shirt he threw last night? Whatever– he’ll put a shirt on later.

Stepping out of his room is heavenly. It smells like the diner, but so, so much better and it’s warmer, so much warmer.

He follows the scent into the kitchen, shuffling his tired feet through the hallway and to the entryway to the kitchen, leaning on the wall.

There you are, humming along with the buzzy radio attached to the bottom of the cabinet and pushing scrambled eggs around a pan. You’re wearing gray sweatpants and a blue shirt that fits you well– that’s where his shirt went. 

He thinks it’s a Madonna song playing, but he can’t really tell through Sarah’s rambling she’s spewing at you from the kitchen table.

“Maddie from preschool is going to the same school as me. I think that’s really cool. I wonder if she’ll play princesses with me. Do you think she’ll play princesses with me?”

You turn to look at her over your shoulder and nod, “Yeah, baby. I bet she does. Just make sure you ask, okay?”

“Okay– I think she will too. Remember to ask, remember to ask.” She pushes a finger into the middle of her forehead, as if to force her thoughts to the forefront of her mind.

You nod again, “You’ll remember– just be patient with yourself.”

Sarah starts mumbling to herself and counting her fingers– he cannot even begin to imagine what is going on in her big brain.

While turning your face back to the stove, you catch his eye and a smile takes over your face.

God, what he wouldn’t do to see that smile everyday. He can’t believe that the sight of him makes you look so damn beautiful.

“Good morning, Miller.”

He can’t find it within himself to put effort into forming words with his mouth. Too much energy. He grumbles nonsense instead.

You huff out a breath of amusement, “Come on, grump– I made coffee for you.”

Coffee. That’s what he needs: coffee.

He shuffles further into the kitchen. He feels like a fucking zombie. He’d bet a million bucks he looks like one too.

Without even looking, you hold out a mug of coffee towards him, the other hand pulling the eggs off the heat. He mumbles a thanks and takes it out of your hand.

Oh, he’s so glad you know just how to make his coffee. It’s heaven on his taste buds. Black, not too hot, not too cold. He can already feel the caffeine kick starting his brain.

Placing his mug down, the green one that proudly displays “World’s Best Dad” (something his brother had bought him as a joke when he first found out about Amanda being pregnant– it hadn’t been funny at the time, but he really liked the mug now), he grabs your waist from behind and snuggles his nose into your neck. His eyes slip closed at the comfort he feels being near you.

“G’mornin’.”

You turn your head and press a kiss into his bed-mussed hair, “Morning, baby.”

“Thank you for gettin’ Guppy ready for school.”

You shuffle around in his arms. He’s clearly in the way of you moving around efficiently, but you don’t say anything and neither does he.

“It’s no problem. I woke up earlier than usual and I figured you should sleep in a little. You haven’t gotten enough sleep lately.”

You’re right. You’re always right. Because Tommy’s been gone for two months now, he’s had to pick up the slack with their contracting stuff. He can’t stop doing it, it’s the only way he can afford to feed Sarah and register her for school and keep up with rent. His income from the diner isn’t enough anymore.

It’s fine though. He’ll do it. Anything to keep Sarah happy, healthy, and fed.

But it’s taking quite the toll on his body. He’s way too young to be feeling this damn old.

All he does in response to you is nod into your shoulder and sigh.

“Go sit. I made you a plate.”

He lets go of you, instantly feeling the loss, before he flops down onto the chair next to Sarah.

“Good morning, Guppy,” he mumbles through a sleepy smile, “What’re you doin’?”

She doesn’t even look up to respond to him, still intensely staring down at her fingers, “Counting.”

“Countin’ what?”

You place his forgotten coffee mug and a plate in front of him. It’s filled with bacon, scrambled eggs, and a handful of cut strawberries. You’ve been getting on his ass about being a good example with his eating habits– “You need to eat more fruit and vegetables or Sarah’s going to think that what you normally eat is an acceptable diet.”

He ate them because you asked him to. He knew you were beyond stressed lately, what with starting your senior year of college and getting ready for student teaching next semester. You didn’t need another thing like what he ate to stress you out even more.

“How many friends from preschool I have in my class. Three.”

He takes another sip of his coffee, “I bet that number goes up a lot by the end of today.”

She smiles up at him as he sticks a strawberry in his mouth, “I hope so.”

You chime in, sliding into the chair across from Sarah, “I know so. You’ll have to tell me all about school and how super cool it is when I come over on Wednesday.”

“Wednesday?! You’re not coming back until Wednesday,” she shrieks, throwing her hands up in the air.

He thinks that if he didn’t know that sometimes you needed to be by yourself in your own space and this was the first time you’d told him you weren’t coming back for two days, he would be reacting the same way Sarah was.

You look freaked out for a second with your eyebrows raised and your eyes wide, before your expression cools, “I got school too, Guppy.”

“But– how I supposed remember all the stuff happens today so I can tell you on Wednesday?” She forgets a few words in her need to get out what she wants to say quickly, a common occurrence with his five-year-old.

You shake your head at her, “It’s okay if you forget. That big brain of yours is gonna keep it all stashed in there, you just might need a little reminder to jog your memory.”

Joel butts in, hopefully to take some of the heat off you, “We could write it all down, just in case.”

She takes a minute to think about it, finger pressed into her temple. You both watch as she comes to a conclusion and nods her head definitively. “Okay. But we have to write it down right after school, Daddy. I don’t wanna forget.”

He mimics her nod, “Of course, Guppy.”

You spend the rest of the time that he spends finishing his breakfast singing whatever songs come on the radio and leading Sarah in an uncoordinated dance around the kitchen as she throws her head back with the force of her giggles.

He wishes everyday could be like this. Waking up to you in his apartment. In bed or greeting him in the kitchen– it didn’t matter to him. As long as you were here, he was happy and so was his little girl.

He throws a shirt on (not the one you stole, he insists you keep that one on) and guides his girls out of the second-story apartment and down onto the street. It’s bustling with activity as people come to the busy downtown street to get to work and get errands done.

Sarah’s already hopping down the street, her pink Elmo backpack being jostled up and down with her as she bounces, while he locks the door behind them.

“Sarah,” you call for her, gesturing with the hand you don’t have placed on his lower back for her to come back.

She obeys, but she does so reluctantly. Her hands wrap around her backpack straps and her head faces the concrete below her.

“You gotta hold Daddy’s hand, remember?” He holds a hand out for her to take when she’s standing next to him again. He’s been trying to really hammer this point home to her for years now, to get her to remember, but she has a harder time focusing when she’s really excited. He doesn’t mind– she just needs to be reminded.

“Yes…” She slaps her palm into his and clamps down her tiny fingers in between his thumb and his pointer finger.

“Thank you, baby.”

You start your trek down the street. Sarah was going to the grade school that was on your college campus, the one that the education students helped teach at occasionally. You assured him that you knew a lot of the people that would be interacting with Sarah and that they were all fantastic. It just made him nervous sometimes, but he trusted you.

“Can I hold Sugar’s hand too?”

You beam down at her, “Of course.”

When you give her your hand, she insists that you both swing her, which, of course you do because you both are wrapped around her comically small pinkie finger.

He successfully drops her off with no tears, which he doesn’t know how he managed considering he had cried to you the previous night about how weird it was that his little girl was going to school now and that she wouldn’t have any family around her there like she always did. You had assured him that going to school would be a fun new adventure for her. Sarah was such a social butterfly that she could fit in anywhere. He just didn’t want her to grow up.

He takes you to your dorm room and says good morning to Elaine, who’s snuggled deep in Robin’s chest and barely acknowledges his existence. You give him a long kiss and tell him that you’ll see him on Wednesday. Wednesday could not come sooner.

When he punches his timecard at work later that morning, he sighs in disbelief at how big his little girl was growing– at how much he would give for another morning just like this one. Maybe someday.

series masterlist | masterlist of all masterlists 🌼 | eras masterlist 🌻

[lild00td00t]

Bringing an animal home without their permission series: Marine Admirals

Characters: Akainu, Kizaru, Fujitora

No Aokiji for this one 😔 But Akainu would have SUCH a soft spot for puppies, you cannot tell me he wouldn’t-

Akainu | Sakazuki

• Yknow the dads that “hates” the pets you get ? That’s him

• that dog/cat is his. Sorry, I don’t make the rules but the animal will LOVE him. The second he gets home from work and sits down the animal is by his side.

• They wake up together, eat together, and sleep together, he simply “ tolerates” the animals presence

• Buys them treats and toys and pretends it’s just “simple pet care “, he really does love them.

• He’s a dog person hands down

A permanent scowl was etched on Akainus face as he trudged his way home, the echoes of his steps as harsh as the expression he wore. He had a particularly challenging day. Akainu simply wished to go home, tend to his bonsai and have a nice dinner with you.

As he dug into his pockets for his keys he couldn’t help but cherish the sound of your laughter from inside your home. His gaze softened and he couldn’t deny the relief he felt from finally being home with you.

Once he unlocked the door and opened it he removed his hat, kneeling to slip his shoes off. He noted you went silent the moment he stepped in the door, and before he could call out to you a puppy ran across the living room and directly for him.

His face went blank and he pulled his hands away, watching as the shiba puppy went for the laces of his shoes. Without a word he gingerly grasped its scuff to pull it away, watching as you peeked from the doorway, sheepishly blinking.

“ ..… Can I keep it ? “

“ No. “

“ But Sakazuki she loves you ! And I already named her and got her a bed beside ours and- “

You stopped talking when he handled the puppy with both hands, watching as it’s tail wagged faster, licking at his nose and cheeks. He couldn’t help but barely lift the corners of his lips, almost invisible except to the trained eye as he set the puppy down and watched it scamper over to you.

“ Are..… Are you smiling?! Does this mean we can keep it ? “

“ .. If it’s good. “

From that point on, you had a new puppy and a secretly happy dog loving husband. <3

Kizaru | Borsalino

• Much like Akainu, that pet will immediately bond to Kizaru

• He naps just as much as the cat I would imagine him having, and they both really appreciate laying in the sun unbothered so it’s a win win!

• Totally a cat person, he loves the purring and meowing, he LOVES cats periodt 💅

Kizaru normally worked late into the evening, coming home without eating dinner and sometimes falling asleep with his uniform on the couch as not to disturb you. This particular evening however, he found himself getting off early and couldn’t wait to suprise you.

He hummed lowly to a tune that had been stuck in his head, distracted by the bouquet of flowers he was currently fiddling with, making sure they looked perfect for you. Much to his suprise, the door was unlocked when he climbed the steps. As he slipped his shoes off he crept in, his signature lazy smile curling upwards as he silently stalked towards you, busy washing what he presumed to be vegetables in the sink.

“ What are we having for dinner tonight my dear ? “

“ Borsalino! You’re - home early !! “ You exclaimed as you looked over your shoulders with wide eyes. You couldn’t help but momentarily swoon over the flowers he bought, watching as he meandered to the cabinet to get a flower vase.

“ I am.. did I surprise you ? I hope I did.. that’s what I was going for.. my love may I fill the vase - “

“ NO ! “ You shouted unintentionally, watching his brows raise and his head slightly tilt.

“ Er.. not.. right now I’m washing dishes !! “

Suddenly a shrill mewl filled the room, and he leaned past you to gander at the pitifully soaked orange kitten in your hands. His mouth formed an ‘O’ as he set the vase and flowers down, enthralled with what you had been hiding.

It was small and scruffy looking, and very angry due to being in the water. Kizaru couldn’t help but grab a dish towel to dry it, completely smitten with the kitten !

“ Soo cuuute, are you having a baaath ? Yes you aarree ! ~ “ He cooed at the kitten as you stared, enamored by his sudden liking to the scruffy animal.

“ So.. can I keep him ? “

“ Oh yes.. this is a fine gift indeed my love thank you. ~ “

“ Wait he’s mine too ! “ You called out as he coddled the kitten to his chest, completely flabbergasted that he took the kitten that YOU found. Oh well, atleast he said yes !

Fujitora | Issho

• He LOVES the kitten because of its constant purring, it’s so reassuring to him

• He would probably gift you one if you asked, but if you secretly brought one home he wouldn’t be mad either, I think he may be alittle upset that you snuck it by instead of asking him first since he’s usually lenient-

• But he spoils the LIFE out of that cat

On his way home, Fujitora passed a small ramen stand. The smell wafting from the small shop lingered in the air and tempted his heightened sense of smell over to the area. He stubbornly turned his head away, telling himself he must make it home first to get you, then come back out to enjoy dinner together.

Once he approached your shared dwelling he carefully climbed the steps and navigated cautiously into your home, the smile he wore slightly fading when he wasn’t greeted by your presence at the door. He could hear you faintly however, in the living room accompanied by the rustling of a blanket. As he rounded the corner he remained silent, listening to your steady breathing as you lay resting on the couch. He felt his heart twinge with guilt at the thought of waking you, but he knew you would appreciate the ramen just as much as he did.

“ My dear, let’s go get some ramen for dinner tonight, I passed by a place not too far from the house and it smelled delectable. “

He frowned at your lack of response, so he outstretched his hand to wake your sleeping form. Instead he was met by a small purring bundle that was curled atop of your chest, and making biscuits on the blanket that was pulled up to your chin.

The small tuxedo kitten perked up at his touch, greeting him in a shrill mewl while seeking Fujitoras hands out for more affection. A gruff chuckle rumbled in his chest as plucked the delicate kitten from your chest to hold it to his cheek and nuzzle it.

“ Oh my.. you’re not my spouse. Would you like to get ramen with me kitty ? “ He spoke gently to the kitten, chuckling as it mewled in response again. Fujitora couldn’t help but melt at purring that vibrated his hands, whisking the kitten away as he sat down beside you.

“ Let’s wait for them to wake up.. then we can all go get ramen. “

[makeitmingi]

The Cat and Dog Game [Chapter 33]

Genre: Romance, Fluff, Comedy

Pairing: Yunho x Reader (y/n)

Characters: Chef!Reader, RestaurantOwner!Yunho, MaitreD!Hongjoong, Waiter!Yeosang, Waiter!San, Waiter!Mingi, SousChef!Seonghwa, SousChef!Wooyoung, PrepChef!Jongho

Summary: Yunho's dream was to open and run his own restaurant. But he doesn't know anything when it comes to cooking. Until you came along and accepted the job, bringing with you a small crew. How will the black cat tame the energetic golden retriever?

Word count: 3.3K

"Yunho..." You raised your head from your pillow, slight hesitation and worry in your voice.

"Hmm?" He hummed, eyes focused on the game that he was playing on his phone. You and him were slowly growing accustomed to staying at each other's places. And tonight, Yunho was staying over at your place.

"Would you like to visit my mom?" You asked.

That's how you ended up in your position now. Yunho drove, worried that you were too distracted to drive. He was right, you couldn't focus on a single thought for more than 5 seconds.

"Thanks again for coming." You blurted out, hands dripping the material of the pants you were wearing.

"(y/n), there's no need to thank me. I should be thanking you for introducing me to her." He said, reaching over to place his hand on yours.

"I'm a littler nervous. Going there always sends me spiralling." You confessed. But it also acted as a warning to Yunho of the state that you will be in when you reach.

"It's okay, I'll be with you all the way, alright?" He squeezed your hand.

"You can tell me anything, I'll always listen." He added. You nodded with a hum, turning to look out the window but you never let go of Yunho's hand. Although the memories of your mother are fond, they always scared you. So Seonghwa made you promise that you'll never come here alone.

"When I think about my mother... She's an amazing person. Seeing her regress to the state she was in before she died... It still haunts me." You told him.

"I understand that, considering how close you were with her..." Yunho empatised.

"And on top of that, my father was detaching himself. I could tell, when she got sick, he just wasn't there." You sighed.

"He left your mom alone?" Yunho asked in disbelief.

"Yes and no. He was there but he didn't visit her room, buried himself in work... almost as if she was already gone from our lives. And right after she died, he got together with my stepmother." You sighed.

"It's like he didn't even care to mourn for her. I became invisible to him, just forgotten. The father that I knew and counted on growing up was gone. And I know a part of me still cannot reconcile with that." You said.

"I can't imagine you having to go through that all on your own, especially at that age." Yunho replied with a small shake of his head, he really didn't like your father.

"You know, I always wondered how different things would have been if my mother was still around." You chuckled bitterly.

"Or is this just his true colours?" You thought out loud.

Yunho didn't reply to that. He has never met your father and mother But he knew he hated your father and was angry with him for treating you that way when you were little and just lost your mother.

"That's the only good part. Your mother isn't around to see how your dad truly is." Yunho said. You hummed in agreement.

"For a long time, I thought maybe that's just his way of mourning. Maybe he just blames me for making my mother sick. He always said she started getting weaker after she gave birth to me. That's why I don't have a sibling. It made me believe my mother would still be alive if I wasn't born." You said.

"That's not true. It's not your fault and your dad shouldn't blame it on you, you're his kid." Yunho frowned.

"It didn't help my case that my stepmother and I hated each other from the start. He hated that I 'embarrassed him'." You scoffed.

"Was she mean to you as a kid?" Yunho probed a little more. He was glad that you found this opportunity to share more with him so he could learn more about you.

"She saw me as a threat so she tried to erase me from my father's life. Little did she know, my father already didn't care for me at that point. But she knows she'll never be my mother." You said.

"What about your stepbrother?" He asked.

"Oh, just as bad as her. But he was the perfect child, wanting to be a doctor, so of course my dad was fine with paying for everything."

"My mother was a respected woman. Everyone loved her, no one can come close to her. She was philantropic, humble and confident. Everyone knows my stepmother is only in it for the name and the money. She'll never replace my mother. Even Seonghwa's parents hate my father and stepmother now." You shrugged.

"What parent would just ignore their child like that...How could he just leave you to be on your own after your mother died." Yunho shook his head.

"It was hard and I barely survived it but that's a discussion for another time." You forced a smile, patting the back of his hand.

"Thank you for telling me all that."

"Nothing to thank me for. I never want it to happen but if you meet my father and stepmother some day, I just want you to be prepared for how they will be." You said.

"I hope I never run into them." Yunho clicked his tongue. You assumed it was because Yunho was afraid of your dad. But no, Yunho just knew he would not be able to fight to urge to punch your dad.

"Is this this place?" Yunho stopped the car and leaned forward to see the sign overhead.

"Yeah, you can go straight ahead and park there." You pointed. Yunho nodded and continued driving until you told him to stop and park the car. When you both stepped out, Yunho went to grab the offerings from the boot.

"Are you cold?" Yunho asked, seeing you wrap your arms around yourself as you waited. You shook your head with a small smile.

"I just... hate it here." You looked away. It was hard explaining all the emotions you felt when you came here. Yunho came forward, holding your hand to walk with you.

"It's okay." He kissed the back of your hand. Although Yunho walked in front, you guided him to where your mother was.

"There she is." You nodded to the headstone that was by the big plum blossom tree.

"Hi... mom..." It felt like there was a rock in your throat you just couldn't swallow. Yunho saw your apprehension but didn't point it out or rush you.

"I'll set up." He said softly, opening the picnic mat. He placed down the flowers, fruit, Korean rice cakes and alcohol. Thankfully, he called his mother to ask for help the night before. You watched, rooted to your spot as Yunho picked off the weeds and used a clean, damp cloth to wipe the headstone.

"Done." Yunho informed, carefully folding the cloth and setting it aside. He didn't greet your mother yet, wanting to let you go first. You gulped nervously, kneeling down on shaky hands.

"H-Hi, mom... I-It's been a while... I'm s-sorry about that." You stuttered as your brain refused to form coherant sentences.

"You go. I don't know what else to say." You said with a clenched jaw. Yunho nodded, patting your head.

"Nice to meet you, omonim. My name is Jeong Yunho, I am (y/n)'s boyfriend. (y/n) has told me a lot about you and she continues to do so." Yunho smiled, bowing deeply.

"I own the restaurant that she's currently working at. She's amazing, her and the whole crew. They saved my business." He continued.

"Thank you for leading her to me." He smiled.

You looked on at how Yunho spoke to your mum, tears slipping down your cheeks. Hearing his words, maybe he was right. Your mother led you to Yunho, knowing what a patient, kind and amazing person he would be in your life.

"He's a big eater, mom, just like Hwa is. You would have loved feeding him." You whispered. To which, Yunho grinned proudly, nodding in confirmation.

"I promise to take care of (y/n)." Yunho quickly added.

"You already take such good care of me, Yunho." You said. He turned to you, wiping your cheeks with his thumbs.

"I know that. And I'll continue to do it. I just have to reassure your mom that her daughter is in good hands, don't I?" He chuckled with a charming smile, reaching over to pinch your cheek.

"I don't really know what you like to eat but I hope fruits, sweet rice cake and the soju is okay. I'll bring more next time." Yunho said.

"She's not a picky eater. She'll be grateful no matter what." You informed with a soft smile. It made your heart swell when Yunho said 'next time'.

"Here, sit." Yunho brushed the mat for you to sit. You hesitated before taking a seat beside him with your mother's headstone opposite. It was a new feeling, you never wanted to stay here for too long. Seonghwa always had to convince you to stay a little longer before you ultimately rushed out of there.

"Can you believe how long it has been since you left, mom? I'm still not over it..." You sighed. Yunho reached over to hold your hand, rubbing the back with his thumb to comfort you.

"When you left, dad left too. Things have never been the same, our family is gone." Your tears fell into your lap.

"But it's okay, I'm okay. I have a new family of my own, a better one." You looked up at Yunho with a sad smile. He smiled back at you.

Yunho wrapped an arm around your shoulders, pulling you to his body and kissing the crown of your head. You wiped your tears with your sleeves.

Then it all happened, the same thing that always happened when you came, the flashbacks of memories of your mother. The happy ones and then the sour ones leading up to her death and after.

"Let's go." Pulling away from Yunho, you stood up and brushed your pants. Yunho looked at you in shock and confusion.

"Are you sure? There's no rush and-"

"Yunho, now. Please." You begged. Seeing your pleading eyes, Yunho nodded and stood up as well.

"Why don't you head to the car first? Start up the engine. I'll pack up and be with you." Yunho suggested kindly. You didn't need to be told twice. Taking the keys from him, you trudged down the small path and headed to the car.

"Forgive her, omonim. It's still hard on her..." Yunho bowed politely as he began to pack up. He pour the soju over the grass patch and put the fruit away then folded the blanket.

"Watch over her and protect her, please. She doesn't deserve all this. I'm sure you know that..." He sighed as he patted the headstone.

"We'll be back soon." He gave a final bow before leaving. You were already settled in the passenger seat.

"Hey." Yunho put the things in the boot and came to the driver's seat. Usually, he holds your hand but this time, you were so quick to grasp his hand, as if you would go crazy if you didn't.

"Hey, hey. It's okay..." His other hand came over to cup your cheek.

"Let's go home, hmm?" He smiled softly and you nodded. Yunho drove to your home, sensing that you would prefer the familiarity.

When Yunho arrived, you both went upstairs. Yunho placed the bag of fruits down on the counter and you immediately glued yourself to him, hugging his waist tightly and burying your face against his chest. Yunho hushed you, one hand on the back of your head and one on your back to hold you.

"It's okay, it's okay." He whispered as he felt your tears soak the front of his shirt. Yunho let you hold onto him for as long as you needed, he wasn't going to be the first to let you go.

"Sorry, let me shower." You mumbled.

"Don't be sorry." He patted your head. You shuffled to your bathroom to shower while he quickly showered in the other bathroom.

"Yunho, I'm sorry. I... I..." You struggled to find the words as you both sat on the bed after your showers. Yunho offered to help you dry your hair so you could sleep.

"Love, I told you, there's nothing to be sorry about." He told you, daringly trying the new affectionate nickname.

"I just have this whirlwind of emotions when it comes to her." While you didn't address it, you didn't react negatively so Yunho took that as a win.

"I understand, it's normal." Yunho said. When he was done, you combed your hair while he put the hair dryer back. He got under the covers and you scooted close to him so he could wrap his long arms around you securely. You felt safe with him.

"Yun, thank you." You murmured.

"You're very welcome." He smiled, brushing your hair away from your face, staring into your eyes.

Holding his bicep, you lifted yourself slightly to be on his eye level and pressed your lips to his. Yunho's eyes widened but kissed back, pulling your body closer to his. You pulled away first to breathe.

"Are you okay?" You chuckled, hand resting on his warm cheek. He grinned and pounced over, showering you in kisses.

"Argh! Yunho!" You yelled out as he placed multiple kisses all over your face like an excited puppy.

"That was amazing." Yunho grinned happily. You rolled your eyes jokingly, putting your face against his chest so he wouldn't see you all shy and embarrased.

"Go to sleep." You slapped his chest.

"I expect a wake up kiss later." He declared before returning to the original position as before. You let out an audible sigh then closed your eyes to sleep. Yunho let out a soft laugh, seeing you fall asleep to quickly. He was just teasing you but was glad that you took the first step and you shared your first kiss as a couple.

"Goodnight, my love." He rested his cheek against your head and joined you in dreamland.

"Oh, Seonghwa hyung." Yunho greeted, quickly adjusting his post-sleep hair when he saw that your best friend had arrived. He closed your bedroom door, not wanting to disturb you.

"Hey, thanks for contacting me." Seonghwa greeted Yunho with a brief hug.

"She's sleeping but I thought she might need you more than she needs me... to comfort her." Yunho rubbed the back of his neck.

"Yunho, you know that's not true. She needs you too, you've become such a big part of her life now, provided her protection and comfort." Seonghwa smiled softly.

"I'm guessing you both haven't eaten." Seonghwa raised an eyebrow. Yunho nodded his head shyly.

"It's early for dinner but considering it's your first meal of the day, I'll get started on cooking." Seonghwa informed. Before going to the kitchen to cook, Seonghwa went into the room just to be with you for a bit and see how you were.

"Let me help, hyung. I want to cook for her." Yunho said, standing in the kitchen, when Seonghwa came back out. Seonghwa chuckled as he nodded.

"I'll learn from you. I can't cook a full meal by myself but I can help." He said with determination.

"Sure, ask questions if you have any." The older began to look through your fridge, reading the labels on all the stuff.

"Put these on the counter for me?" Seonghwa requested. Yunho took the vegetables and deli containers, putting them on the kitchen island to be used later.

"Do you know what you're gonna cook right away?" Yunho asked.

"No. So I took out stock because you can always use stock in cooking. Then these vegetables look like they're going to spoil so I took them out too." Seonghwa explained, finding a knife.

"(y/n) removed you from knife duty, right? I don't want to face her wrath for disobeying her." Seonghwa teased.

"Ah, hyung~ Come on. I'm sure all of you got hurt in the kitchen before too! It was just a little cut but she doesn't let me near the knives anymore. I don't want to go back to weighing ingredients. That's so boring." Yunho whined. Seonghwa laughed and let Yunho use one of the spare chef knives.

"So we'll use the stock and braise the leeks. That's easily done in the stove then thrown into the oven. There's also some beef, we can do rice bowls." Seonghwa said.

"Okay, I'll follow your lead." Yunho began.

"Oh, let's make a quick pickle. Green papaya, radish and carrot. You can use this slicer. Use the guard though." He instructed.

"Alright, so to draw the water out, we put salt and let it sit for a bit. It's thinly sliced to it should be quite quick. In the meantime, we have prepare the pickling liquid." Seonghwa taught Yunho.

The two of them prepared the meal together, Yunho learning and remembering the little tips Seonghwa taught him.

"Yunho?" You woke up and found the bed empty. Groaning, you reached over to turn on the bedside lamp. After checking the time, you got out of bed and went to wash your face. You assumed Yunho had gone home.

"So you want to baste the steak to add flavour, grab the handle and tilt the pan like this." You peeked over to see Seonghwa teaching Yunho how to cook.

"What's going on here?" You blinked. The two men stopped and looked over at you.

"You're awake." Yunho bound over to you, putting his arms around you to wrap you in a big bear hug.

"Hey, Hwa." After hugging Yunho, you went to hug Seonghwa. He wrapped an arm around your waist while you took a a few seconds to rest your forehead on his shoulder.

"You okay, sweetheart?" He whispered. You didn't say anything, your silence was a sufficient response. He patted your back.

"Aren't you supposed to be off knife duty?" You raised an eyebrow, turning to Yunho.

"Aww, (y/n). Come on~ I was careful. Look, no cuts." Yunho wriggled his fingers to show you. You gave him a skeptical look and went to the fridge to pour yourself some cold coffee, wanting the taste and aroma to really help wake you up. Yunho reached over to steal a sip from you.

For the first time, you didn't cook, on insistence by Yunho and Seonghwa that they'll handle it. They only allowed you to sit by the counter to watch them.

"Shall I make you a bowl?" Seonghwa offered.

"Can you let me slice the steaks, at least?" You asked back. Seonghwa gave you a flat look but gave in easily.

"Alright, let me assemble my bowl." You laid the slices of steak over your rice, making a well in the middle to put a raw egg yolk and sauce. Yunho placed the pickles they made onto a sharing dish.

"Perilla leaf kimchi?" Seonghwa asked. You nodded and he went to put a plate of kimchi there.

"Thank you for cooking, you two." You said before digging into the food with them.

"This is so good! Seonghwa hyung is a great teacher." Yunho said between his chews, clearly impressed that he helped put together such a delicious dish.

"And I'm just chopped liver... Maybe next time, you should cook with Seonghwa and help him with his prep, since he's such an amazing teacher, you know?" You scoffed, feigning offense. Yunho's face fell as he tried to defend himself.

"You know that's not what I mean!"

~

Series masterlist

[littleluscinia]

aitsf spoilers on both games regarding sejima family

The thought of So trying to be more fatherly to Iris because his other neglected kids became serial killers is absolutely hilarious to me. Like "oh shit I was such a bad dad that my kids started killing people I cannot fuck up with my last (known) child" and checks in on her every now and then to make sure she's not plotting anything. He's probably sweating trying to recall other women he may have had children with. So far 2 out of 3 kids are killers and that is a very bad record for him.

Like he checks in on her stream and she gets a little bit too violent in Fortnite and he's like oh fuck I have to leave town she's going to get me next.

I do think she should do a little murder as a treat though.

It would actually be hilarious if So is a witness to a murder in the third game and the killer tries to silence him, but in doing so they are killed by Iris. I can just imagine the awkward tension between So and Iris.

Iris, looking between the body and So: " A-are you ok Mr. Sejima?! I don't know what happened, I just saw that you were in danger a-and my body moved on its own and —"

So, internally: why does this keep happening to me...

[ahli-stuff]

Radioapple could be better

Back in the old days radioapple was my fan favorite crack ship . How the times change

Before we got our official depiction of Lucifer as we have now, I imagined him to be condescending, sly, manipulative character who would go on to be Alastor’s foil. Now, the only thing of that remains is that he is Alastor’s foil but the subversion of the sexy and powerful Lucifer of pop culture into sad-awkward dad Lucifer is amazing and I’ve grown really fond of it.

But for how popular it is now, there’s still a big itch that fan content for radioapple (or maybe just Lucifer) fails to scratch for me. This isn’t an issue I have that’s exclusive to Lucifer either, I nearly lost my mind about it in Tv series Lucifer(2016) too.

it’s the fact that there’s barely anyone seems to depict Lucifer’s sheer knowledge. If we are going by the finale, 10,000 years ago is when Lucifer first fell. He is at least 10,000 years old.

10,000 years to learn from the millions of stories (in passing and directly) who have fallen into hell. The wars, the disasters, the movements, the people!!! Age does not equate to wisdom, but you cannot live that long and fail to pick up a certain degree of separation from petty grievances of people who have lived only a fraction of the time you have. That’s doesn’t mean you’re immune to doing irrational things or having childish flaws, but those should coexist with the sheer weight of your knowledge. There should be a certain novelty that an immortal feels in being grounded around very young people who treat them like they are human. Because the knowledge and experience that comes with being immortal can be very dehumanizing, and that is especially so for a figure who has been maybe the most demonized in myth and religion ever.

Give me a Lucifer who knows thousands of different writings, religions, traditions, languages. Give me a Lucifer who contemplates the cruelty of some of the most infamous sinners in real life that have fallen into hell. Give me a Lucifer who becomes lost in ancient levels of nostalgia—his halcyon days with Lilith when humanity began to rear up and he was still hopeful.

Give me an Alastor who, beyond his resentment and ego, is deathly curious how Lucifer works. As a kid who likely went to church every Sunday and listened to pastors caution against the devil so many times his ears may fall off, to meet the guy himself? To meet the entity whom the entirety of the god fearing south wanted to scare him to sleep with? To finally meet the dealmaker of dealmakers?

Give me a late night conversation between the two where they discuss the what alastor has heard about Lucifer topside, Lucifer’s genuine curiosity of Alastor’s morality as a human, and the overall smallness of their existences in the largeness of their myths.

[forg1313]

Headcannons for the family lives of each marauders (please be reminded these are my headcannons and any hate will cause an argument from me 🫶)

James: happy loving parents but not all the time, families always have flaws the potters are just better at hiding them. He would argue with his dad a lot over stupid things but James never hated his dad

Sirius + regulus: of course the abusive Walburga and Orion BUT I like to think that when they were younger Walburga was kinder to them but was then placed under the imperious curse by Orion to keep her in line, and to discipline there children better

Peter: BIG family, kind of an opposite Weasley family, five sister and Peter is the only boy. I like to headcannon on of his sisters was deaf and non magic so she was less loved by her family but her and Peter were reallly close. Peter is the middle child, three older, two younger. His father is not in the picture, left when Peter was 7.

Remus: farm family, literally grew up on a farm and had like two horses, cows and chickens. His dad worked all the time and his mum was stayed home and took care of the animals. Remus was closer to his mum because he barely saw his dad but in the 6th year she got six and the year after they graduated she passed.

Marlene: child of divorce, (She jokes about it a lot) parents divorced on good terms but don’t keep them in the same room for long because they will argue. Has two older brothers that raised her when he parents were fighting

Mary: raised by her dad, only child, her mother passed away and severe complications during the pregnancy and birth. Her dad always would treat her like a princess but they did not grow up rich, her father balanced two jobs and taking care of Mary. He got a lot of help from grandma MacDonald

Lily: her and petunia were close, REALLY close and were all aware of them splitting apart after Lily was sent to Hogwarts. But I like to think they didn’t just, minimise contact. Petunia despised her so much that as soon as she could cut Lily out completely, that’s why she hated Harry so much. But deep down she still loved her sister,

Barty: absolutely despised his dad. (In a muggle au I enjoy him having severe religious trauma and that’s why he despised his dad so much, probs will write some short about this), his mum was completely corrupted by his dad and always listened and believed everything he said. Barty still loved his mum, he knew that she wasn’t really like that, it’s his dad’s fault.

Evan + Pandora: parents were very together but Pandora was raised as a princess, learning how to be a good housewife and a perfect mother, while Evan learned the “manlier stuff” (which I cannot think of right now so use your imagination). The Two grew up very differently from eachother, so they never had a strong relationship, but they learned bro be siblings over time

Dorcas: another child of divorce, probably why Marlene and her clicked so well. The only difference is that Dorcas parents divorced when she was really young while Marlene was older. Dorcas always favoured her dad over her mum but they both were severly flawed.

[ulysses-s-wishes]

The Titan's Curse is my favorite book in the series because it's so beautiful in spite of its severe dearth of my beloved girl Annabeth Chase, however, I will NEVER forgive that book for what it did to my girl and her absence is not even the actual problem.

My issue is that it essentially invalidated all her problems with her mortal family? and of all the flaws Riordan may have (many of which are valid, most of which seem good-faith errors including this one), it's really this one I personally cannot get over

And to a degree I can forgive Percy for his optimism because his mom loves him so much he can't imagine a parent sending the kid away not for their own good - but on the other hand he grew up thinking his dad was a mortal who abandoned him! He grew up with Gabe as a stepfather, and still takes Mrs. Chase at her word? He sees the Chase family move across the country moments after Annabeth has finally reunited with them - something severely dangerous to demigods, which they gave no consideration to - and is like "hey, they told me to tell you there's always a place for you with them" Excuse me, where?? They do not give her emotional space, they do not give her safety, this is shown, in her own words, time and again. Just because her actual father deigned to lend her friends his car doesn't mean he cares more about her than she's always said he has. Just because he showed up in a plane to help when she was kidnapped - he who can see monsters but not be hurt by immortal weapons - doesn't mean he understands or respects her struggles.

Percy goes from "it does not look like they just moved in, everyone seems so comfortable here" to responding to Mrs. Chase saying Annabeth always has a home there with "yeah, not a bad place at all" because he sees how at home everyone OTHER than Annabeth is there?

And sure, both Percy and Frederick get distracted from the topic at hand (and Thalia keeps them on track) but with Percy it's like, woah, this guy is so weird and interesting and with Frederick it's Wow, I just found out my eldest child is in danger and I'm going to talk about my special interest instead of asking follow-up questions

And that no one at camp bothered to inform him of Annabeth's disappearance even though it's been a week, and she's actually been at home recently and somehow he's like "oh, okay I'll help you" not like "Hey why did no one tell me my daughter was kidnapped?" (especially paralleling Sally's reaction to Percy going missing in tlh??)

And Mrs. Chase being like oh, I made snacks, oh you're so silly for losing your keys not like, hey, where's my stepdaughter. This might be a little petty but I'm pretty sure I'm right

"Oh, I feel comfortable going back to San Francisco even though it's dangerous for half-bloods because it means I can keep an eye on the danger" okay sure, volunteer for the scary mission, but don't act like that means your family ever acknowledged your very valid concerns about this new living situation. Don't forget that you'll need to restock your weapons supplies because your dad decided to use them as experimental scrap metal - not because he expected to fly into battle to rescue you, but rather because he's an academic maniac who cares more about battle reenactment than the fact that his own child is at war

I love that in Mark of Athena we get some more awful backstory about how Mrs. Chase treated Annabeth (with the spiders), not because it's good, but because it's literally the most validation she ever gets! Percy who grew up in an abusive household, who has so much empathy for people with all kinds of backgrounds being like "yeah actually your family seems nice" will never make sense and I will never be over it (and honestly Thalia seems pretty chill about it too, given that she knew seven-year-old-runaway Annabeth? though not as much as Percy)

Just closing this with some actual direct quotes:

"I know San Francisco is a dangerous place for you. But please remember, you always have a home with us. We will keep you safe." In what world!!!!!!

"You think I was lying about that?" It sounded like a challenge, but a pretty halfhearted one, like she was asking it of herself.

"I didn't say you were lying. It's just… he seems okay. Your stepmom, too. Maybe they've, uh, gotten cooler since you saw them last." - the gaslighting???!! - Hey, I'm not saying you lied, but maybe, you just didn't understand them and they actually aren't so bad that they drove you to run away at seven and then again a couple years later -what!!!

[dontbesoweirdkira]

Idk if it’s just me but this is how I see Yandere Mark with batsib.

Batsib who had a neglectful parent and needs to be obsessively loved

Mark Grayson who’s obsessively in love with them.

I also feel like batsib is also adopted but could be blood related to Damian. Oh I also feel like batsib and Mark were close friends before they started dating. I just like the premise of Mark and batsib being friends before dating because that’ll mean they batsib trusts him.

Also I feel like mark isn’t that bad of a boyfriend it’s just his obsessive tendencies and possessiveness. I feel like Mark would def take batsib out on dates and make sure there well taken care of. Idk I’m desperate

This is so late but I def agree. My last post was purely a joke post.

Don't get me wrong, I absolutely am a fiend for evil boy Mark. Evil Mark has my heart idc idc idc.

Mark is such a good boy he loves every single girl he's been with so much. Like he's such a family boy. ;-; his mama raised him right. He love Batsis more than anything and would do whatever makes her happy.

I think Mark would love being able to be an obsessive partner with batsis. Like you said it wouldn't even be in a bad way, he gets to be extremely over protective and keep you safe without ever worrying about being too much. If he ever did push a boundary he is so apologetic, he's so cuteee.

Even when he has to be away for a while doing hero stuff, he comes back and is treating you like you're the only girl in the world. How nice it'd be when he takes you on late night flights to where you wanna go. All the kisses and attention. He's great on sending you updates, you literally are all that matters.

Dates are great. Perfect teenage/young adults dream. You're always going on adventures together. I think his mom would love you and wouldn't care if you was constantly over. Like you can have that spare room.

There's tons of lazy days where Mark is holding you in his bed for hours while you guys eat junk and be bliss. He just never wants to be away from you.

Even when his dad is talking nonsense, he could never in a million years think about killing you. He doesn't care if he'll outlive you and still be young when you're old. To him, you're the only one that could ever fill that void within him. It's not years wasted to him, if it's spent with you. He'd love you as much as you need for the rest of your life..

but ughhh after Norman started being weird, can you just imagine how protective Mark would get. He's never leaving your side. He doesn't trust anyone or thing. You're his baby, he's willing to take any beating from his dad if that means you will be safe. He'll bounce back but you are so fragile...he cannot risk it. He's never abandoning you, not after you parents.

it would be funny though for him to have beef with some of the batsiblings tho, even if it's friendly. I think it'd just make sense, especially if the batsis are yanderes with too. Like come on Bruce would at least def hate him and Norman. Mark didn't even do anything wrong but he's still a threat.

[bloodmoon24]

Hello. Hope I am not a bother to you by ANY means whatsoever, but I just came here to vent about some vivzie stuff that is just so bothersome to me that I need to let it out. Just a heads-up for that the main trigger warning in this topic is about misogyny and sexual abuse/assault/rape.

I've been a Vivziepop fan as long as I can remember--I loved her webcomic Zoophobia along with her other works that I've always been familiar with. She was my favorite artist and she has always been an inspiration for me.

However, when it came to being one of her many beloved fans, you can't IMAGINE on what I had to witness in terms of the sheer amount of hatred that has been spat at Vivienne. Especially when it came down to her releasing Helluva Boss and Hazbin Hotel--and the amount of things "critics"/antis say about her is just downright insane and unreal.

During these past few weeks, after someone had leaked s2 of HH, all of the antis and critics watched it and began to ridicule Vivzie, saying that they lost hope and it has lost redeeming qualities of the show; including being so straight up hating her to the point that it feels like I was reading a blog of a person who was sexist to women publically. It honestly blows my mind completely that this is how people treat creators and their shows SO disrespectfully that it is just straight up hate. Not to mention the takes these antis have about Vivzie that is SUPER stupid.

Mind you, Vivziepop is a bisexual Latin-American woman--while I, myself, am a nonbinary (AFAB) mixed PoC fan. And the way antis are like "Hellaverse is racist/sexist/lgbtq-phobic!!" makes me SO made cuz they are erasing the fact that it was MADE by a woman who is a part of the queer community who is WoC. So saying that Hellaverse is an oppressive/prejudice show is WAAAAAY out of proportion.

Also, I still remember how after "Masquerade" was shown along with Stolas being revealed he is a victim of spousal/domestic abuse, a lot of people (and by people I mean antis/critics) were all hating on Angel Dust and Stolas and saying that Vivzie fetishicizes rape/abuse. But for Angel Dust, it was because he's "not an actual victim of SA" because he's a sex worker and because he's hypersexual along with other things; while people defend Stella (the abuser) and say Stolas deserves his abuse because he cheated on Stella. And I cannot tell you how much I had to force myself as to NOT throw up by this statement.

I am a victim of SA because of an ex-girlfriend and also my cousin's boyfriend forced himself on me; my dad divorced my ""mom"" because she would constantly beat him and verbally scream at him--a related mention, too, that my younger siblings are the results of my "egg donor" forcing herself on my dad (I love my siblings VERY much--and I only think of them as JUST my siblings and not by-products of rape). My best friend, Aaron, was assaulted by an older boy in a psychiatrict hospital. And I know other friends of mine who are hypersexual due to various reasons--with one of them being from sexual trauma.

It sickens me a lot that ppl can SAY stuff like that--when, a while back, Vivziepop LITERALLY stated she was a victim of abuse in a tweet of hers. And after the fourth episode of HH, Sam Haft (the guy who created our favorite music) also revealed, too, he is a victim. Many people, victims of assualt/rape, cope with their trauma in many ways--but it boggles me how others of SA will hate on other SA victims because of the way they cope differently than others. We all have different stories and different ways to comfort ourselves.

On a related topic, too, but it also just frustrates me that when Vivzie takes on the topic of abuse, its apparently "romanticizing" and "fetishicizing" when its LITERALLY not and she took this topic seriously. Also, as a reminder, but Family Guy did the same topic on this, too, but it was half-assed and victim-blamed. In the episode "Screams of Silence: The Story of Brenda Q.", it was about Quagmire finding out his sister was being abused by her boyfriend--however, when the main cast came to confront about how Jeff (the abusive boyfriend) was beating her, they said that it was HER fault she was getting abused. But did this episode receive backlash? Only little. But this honestly JUST says a lot about how treat creators--female and male. If Vivziepop was a dude, it would've been different.

Not to mention, too, that when I was seeing a bunch of hate to Helluva Boss, they were all blaming Vivziepop. Just Vivziepop, Vivziepop, Vivziepop EVERYWHERE. But what about Brandon Rogers, a gay PoC man who LITERALLY wrote Helluva Boss AND created Stolas, does HE receive hate?? Nope, just Vivzie. Its just misogyny--when a man does edgy jokes (and saying language that contains LOTS of cursing/swearing) its cool and funny, but when a woman does it she's being uncool and unfunny.

Whoof. Sorry about giving you a wall of text, I REALLY needed to let this out due to all of the hate I was seeing about Vivziepop after the season 2 leak. And feel free to add your two cents into this.

I’ve been getting a lot of rants in my askbox, don’t worry. And I agree with you 100%, and it’s fucking ridiculous on how society acts like this