#it is clear that i still only care about rendering faces

[gilded-glitter]

~ raised by wolves ~ shadowheart as princess mononoke aka the deer god's favorite princess

[lightseoul]

cw. gn!reader, worker!reader, prohero!katsuki, aged-up (25), pining (again, if you look extra closely), a lot of cussing (are we still surprised)

masterlist | part 1 (although ig this makes sense on its own), part 3 (i didn't plan this), part 4, part 5, part 6, part 7, part 8, part 9

“What.”

It’s less of a question and more of a statement—a statement sputtered in the typically demanding way characteristic of the one and only Bakugou Katsuki.

The Bakugou Katsuki who happens to be your boss for a good (debatable) three and a half years now, who you also have to spend overtime with until who knows what time to discuss what’s become rocky employee relations in the Ground Riot agency.

Your eyebrows furrow in confusion or irrational annoyance—both, really—before you quickly school your expression into a neutral one. You riffle through the documents rather absentmindedly, avoiding his gaze before shooting back with: “What do you mean what?”

“I meant,” he leans back on his office chair that you know he singlehandedly picked out for its superior ergonomic design because he’s meticulous like that, “what the fuck is wrong with your face.”

“Excuse me?”

Your retort is laced with more indignant anger than intended, but at this point in the night, you cannot for the life of you bring yourself to care about your tone. It’s been a long day, and you weren’t about to let your stupid boss make fun of your appearance, of all things.

Bakugou probably senses the significant change in your demeanor, because his eyes widen in surprise ever so slightly before he sits up and opens his mouth to explain himself.

“You’ve been looking like you accidentally drank spoiled milk for the past hour and the shit aftertaste isn’t going away.” He haughtily shakes his head, and it takes everything in you not to jump him and choke your boss.

To your disdain, however, he continues.

“It’s either you spit it out or I’m going to have to force you to tell me what’s wrong.”

You gape at him. Whatever you expected him to say, it wasn’t that.

As quickly as you can, however, you attempt to regain your bearings and at least try to seem nonchalant, clearing your throat as unbothered as possible to top it all off. “Well, working overtime to iron out office squabbles isn’t exactly my idea of a relaxing Friday night, thank you very much.”

He scoffs. “Bullshit.”

You almost get whiplash from how quickly you look at him. His brazen rudeness—which, right now, is worse than usual which is saying something, mind you—renders you incapable of saying anything aside from another winded: “Excuse me?”

He rolls his eyes. “Miss me with that bullshit, dumbass.”

You feel yourself heat up in irritation. “I thought I told you to stop calling me dumbass.”

“You’d rather I call you princess?”

At that, you break eye contact despite yourself, choosing to stare at his forehead instead. It’s still unnerving—looking at any part of his body, really—but it’s better than looking at him squarely and witnessing the smirk you know has taken over his unfairly handsome features.

Your voice is small, to your chagrin, when you reply. “That’s actually a lot worse.”

The man dares to bark out a laugh.

You continue to metaphorically choke him in your head.

“Okay then, dumbass,” he emphasizes the nickname and you are about 99% sure a pained expression is dancing across your face because Bakugou is observing you with even more amusement before his features settle into a look of seriousness.

“As I was saying before you missed the point entirely—I highly doubt you’re this bothered because of fucking overtime,” he eyes you cautiously before pressing on. “Something’s wrong.”

You don’t know if it’s the exhaustion of the week filled with workplace conflict, or the crushing news you received this morning in the mail, or the very fact that Bakugou, despite his roughness and the annoyingly persistent way he’s been poking at your mood like it’s an itchy scab, is looking at you with genuine concern—but you end up doing it.

You give in.

You feel the tears welling up in your eyes before you even get the chance to deny them permission to, and at the sight of them Bakugou sits up even straighter in alarm—and you don’t know what comes over you because you start laughing so hard, your hand shoots up to your stomach in an attempt to keep it from cramping.

“Oi.”

The expression on his face is so unbelievably baffled that you only end up cackling to yourself more.

It takes a few more minutes before the sillies are fully flushed out of your system and really, it only took you a glance at Bakugou to realize you probably looked demented just now.

Feeling self-conscious all of a sudden, you quickly wipe away the tears in your eyes and muster enough courage to flash him a genuine smile.

To your delight, he flashes you one right back, albeit tentatively—one that is boyish and charming under the rather dim lights of his corner office.

Although he seemingly reboots to his default state because it’s immediately replaced by a frown and followed by: “You’re so weird, you know that?”

You snort and, before you can stop yourself: “Not as weird as my ex.”

At that, Bakugou’s entire countenance changes—he visibly stiffens in his seat and his eyebrows furrow in what you believe is confusion at the sudden mention of your past lover.

Bakugou says nothing, however, and so you take that as a sign to continue.

“Remember that meeting we had last March with Chef Asahi about our collaboration with his restaurant where I was late and you gave me shit for it? And when you asked I told you it was because I just got dumped over the phone?”

He gives you a curt nod, lips tight.

“Well,” you chuckle nervously, feeling embarrassed at your upcoming revelation, “I just found out that that ex is getting married in two months, and I’m invited.”

Neither of you says anything for the next—what feels like—hour.

Until Bakugou takes a sharp inhale, leans forward on his desk, and stares you down straight in the eyes: “I’ll do it.”

“What?”

He scowls at you like you’ve got a pea for a brain. “Don’t make me say it twice, dumbass.”

You frown at his hostility, your own bewilderment chipping away at your already thinning patience. “You’re not saying anything.”

Bakugou sighs, and he looks like what he is about to say next physically pains him.

“I’ll be your fucking date to the wedding.”

tagging. @kitthepurplepotato @chelbyisbord @lovra974 @katsukis1wife @brunnetteiwik

special shoutout to @he3v4n for reading the prequel to this and following thereafter--inadvertently making me check out past writing and get inspired to write this <3

[hairmetal666]

Eddie's at a party, lunch box in tow, and he's making a fucking killing.

He sets up shop in the crowded kitchen, but that doesn't stop him from spotting King Steve in the living room. Harrington's face is still fucked up from the fight with Hargrove, and he's tipping a cup almost vertically into his mouth. He's not too surprised when--the next time he spots the jock--he has a can of beer in each fist.

More customers flood up to him, and he can't help but be a little grateful for the distraction. Harrington is one unrequited crush he just can't kick.

Lunch box cleaned out, Eddie heads outside for a smoke. He's fishing his cigarettes out of his jacket pocket when he hears a snuffling sort of shuffle that sends his heart racing.

He edges forward, just enough to make out the heap of a person half-heartedly sitting up against the house. A person in fitted blue jeans, tight polo, and Member's Only jacket; swoop of chestnut hair catching in the flash of fire from Eddie's Zippo.

"Harrington?"

The guy startles, stability wavering, eyes blinking too much. "Munson?"

"You alright, man?" He asks, though he can already tell that Steve is most definitely not.

Steve shrugs. "Why do you care?" It's not mean, sounds genuinely curious.

Eddie gets it. He has no reason on earth to show concern about King Steve. In answer, he taps his boot against Steve's sneaker, giving him a small smile. "Not sure. But I'm here, so..."

"Just needed some air. Clear my head."

"How much have you had to drink?" Eddie asks.

"One or two,"

"Dozen?"

Steve laughs. "You're funny. Has anyone ever told you that?"

"I've heard," Eddie says, can't help but laugh a little too. "Wanna talk about what's going on?"

Eddie thinks that'll be a "no," but then: "Nancy dumped me."

"Yeah, big news."

"Ugh, people are talking about it?" Steve whines. It's really cute and Eddie hates himself for noticing. Hates himself more when Steve loses his balance, tips onto Eddie's shoulder, and Eddie doesn't tip him back.

Eddie can tell that Steve isn't fully with him anymore. He's a little afraid to leave the guy alone, so Eddie talks about the latest Hellfire campaign. Sober Steve Harrington probably has no idea what dnd is, but the drunk version is kind of a rapt audience.

He's just explaining about owlbears when Steve's voice, soft and sad, says "I just want someone to love me, you know?"

The admission renders Eddie speechless for a second, his chest fucking aching for the jock. He says "Oh, Stevie," knows he sounds too sad, is sure of it when Steve's nose wrinkles (it's cute; it's so fucking cute. Eddie hates himself for noticing).

Before he can backtrack, Steve slumps over, body going limp as he passes out. "Jesus H Christ," Eddie barks.

With a heavy sigh, and way too much fondness, Eddie stands. "Let's get you home, sweetheart."

He gathers Harrington up in his arms--dude is heavy--and carries him around to his van.

---

Steve wakes up, head throbbing and tongue fuzzy, with no idea how he got home and into bed. Can't really recall anything after he stumbled outside, aside from talking to Eddie Munson. But maybe that was a dream? Either way, he's home, not really any worse for wear. It's enough to let him forget all about it; what's one drunken party in a life full of them?

That Wednesday, he opens his locker after the final bell, and a Hershey bar falls out. He picks it up, flipping it over to see a note on the foil wrapping, "thought you might need something sweet to cheer you up." It's not signed, and Steve slips it into his backpack, knowing he's got a silly smile on his handsome face.

The little gifts continue to show up once or twice a week. Candy, plastic vending machine toys, sketches of the school grounds, caricatures of classmates and teachers. Sometimes they even come with a note in handwriting he doesn't recognize.

Along with the little treats, he starts seeing Eddie Munson kind of everywhere. And it's not like Steve hadn't seen him before--guy was hard to miss--but he was never around this often. Wasn't around this often and he and Steve had never shared a smile, a quick bob of the head, a quiet hello.

It isn't long before they're talking. Nothing much, nothing serious. Complaining about teachers, about classmates; sharing weekend plans. Only now Steve can't pretend to not notice the way Eddie dimples up when he smiles, the subtle muscles that bunch under the sleeves of his Hellfire Club shirt, the long litheness of his legs. Steve knows he's attracted to other guys, it's just that he didn't realize he'd be attracted to Eddie.

The gifts keep coming. Once, he opens his locker to find a plastic ring fashioned into a golden crown and a note that says, "made me think of you, Stevie." There's something about the "Stevie" that catches deep in his brain, but he can't make it connect to anything.

A few months later, Steve opens his locker and pulls out a drawing. This one--it's of him. He's gazing out into space in a way that managers to be dreamy and wistful. The Steve in the drawing is lovely, and it makes something clench deep in his gut, that someone sees him like this.

Steve tries to be more aware of the people in his surroundings, to figure out who his admirer is. He's not very good at it, even as more sketches of him--all depicting him as a gorgeous, ethereal thing he definitely isn't--show up in his locker. Especially when, so often these days, the person he sees the most is Eddie.

---

The presents in his locker continue into April, and would probably last until the end of the school year, but Steve's got a migraine starting. He keeps aspirin in his locker, gets a hall pass out of English to get some.

When he reaches his locker, though, someone is already there, with the door open. Someone in ripped black jeans, heavy black boots, a black leather jacket, and patch covered denim vest.

"Munson?" He asks. His heart beats so hard it reverberates in his ears, making it hard to hear.

Eddie jumps back, hands fluttering, face flushing bright red. "Ste--Harrington! I--uh--," he's backing up, his hands held out from his body, like he's pushing Steve away even though they aren't touching.

"Were you--?" Steve tries to ask, but the words won't quite come. There's familiar warmth low in his stomach, a twisting that has nothing to do with his impending migraine.

"I wasn't doing anything, I swear," Eddie says. He's breathing hard, eyes too bright, and Steve thinks he might be about to cry, but then the metalhead is turning away, starting to run.

"Eddie, wait!" Steve calls, chasing after him without much thought. "Please!"

Eddie doesn't stop until after they've crashed out one of the side exits, are alone outside.

"It was you? Leaving the--?"

Eddie nods, presses his hands to his eyes. "Sorry, I'm sorry, Harrington. I just--"

"Don't be sorry," Steve begs. "It's been--I liked it."

"Even now that you know they're coming from the freak?" Eddie spits. He still hides his face behind his hands.

"It's sort of been the best part of my year, if I'm being honest."

Only now does the metalhead remove his hands, blink back at Steve, dark eyes wide with shock. "Really?"

"Yeah. It made me feel-- important, I guess? Like, maybe someone saw me as something more than King Steve."

Eddie smiles now, looks down at the pavement. "I just didn't want you to think that you weren't--" he stops then, presses his mouth tight.

"Didn't want me to think what?"

"That you weren't loved, Stevie."

The statement hangs between them, Eddie's face pinking again, as the words wrap their way around Steve's heart. Loved. That he's loved. It clenches at every part of him, and he surrounds himself with the truth of it, what all those little presents were saying without words.

"Eddie, I--" he's overwhelmed by the gesture, the meaning, the reciprocal buzz in his chest, because Eddie Munson, Eddie Munson, loves him, and this fact is turning Steve's world on it's head in the best way.

"I'm sorry, Steve, really. Please don't hate me, or--or--"

"It means so much to me," Steve says, his voice a little broken. He reaches a hand out, slow, telegraphing the movement. "Can I?" He whispers.

Eddie nods, and Steve strokes the skin of his face with his thumb. "Thank you."

The metalhead nods, leaning into Steve's touch, they shift close, until their foreheads meet, until they share the same air. They stand that way for a while, long enough that they hear the bell ringing, and only then does Steve break their quiet. "Eds?"

"Yeah, Stevie?"

"You wanna hangout some time?"

Eddie laughs. "Yeah. I really, really do, sweetheart."

[zoropookie]

SWEET MELODY

☆ chapter 21.5 — i'm sorry

The night remained sturdy.

The scent of damp asphalt and the commingle with the icy air didn’t help his senses come to. Kuni didn’t know where else to go that didn’t render less scrutiny of how he operated. Even if it meant he’d be withstanding a bitter bite of a nightly autumn. Mind twisted with the idea of even entertaining your presence, somehow a sickly sweet invitation.

But he didn't enjoy sweets very much. He stumbled out of his car, parking on the curb and holding onto the door. Wearing the remnants of a party that still had some awaiting people expecting him. He clutched the keys in his hand, cigarette smoke clinging to his skin like a ghost. His face, a mess of tear tracks and an old bruise that you gave him.

The purpling around his cheekbone was no problem compared to the letters that he found in his glove compartment that night. Years of hiding it, and handling it on his own, the letters were slightly worn from his lack of care for them. The ink smudged in the places where he was gripping onto them, hands trembling and his edges shabby.

There was a simpler time than this, and he was having a hard time remembering it himself. Mainly because he didn't want to remember it. Back when his former self only stayed a remnant in your head instead of an ugly reminder.

It was the same house he familiarized himself with, but this time, there was no sense of belonging he found. The once golden light he found with you and your family had died, there wasn’t any indication that you were even home other than his phone call to you. His desperate sounding phone call…he cringed.

Kuni hesitated before knocking, but immediately you swung the door open, a snugness immediately enveloping him with the scent of your home. Then it was you, who stood there with stress clouding your gaze, brows kitted together like you were coming across a newfound discovery. He wiped at his face, smudging the remnants of his tears as the bruise pulsates softly.

“Have you been crying..?” You asked in a small whisper, a weight of the things you couldn’t see him admitting anyway. There were freshly baked treats inside awaiting for him to entertain the idea. He didn’t want to be bothered.

“No.” He muttered in a heavy garble, his voice rough as he stared with dead eyes at you. Much like gravel that was kicked down the street.

His lies were smoke that refused to clear. You stared at him, unmoving, taking in his face. Perhaps a lot more adult than when you used to look at him. But while you were, he was also looking for something himself, trying to see anything that may give away your intentions.

You noticed the letters in his hand right away, your heart dropped to your stomach immediately. Something you had the displeasure of dealing with for a good while. Your words failed you, as he was still the same guy that you had the pleasure of falling for. Except this time? It felt bittersweet.

But you didn’t know what he wanted, which made you slump your shoulders. “Why are you here?” Your voice made out, fatigued, weary. The other could tell you were trying not to say anything out of line, but it was there, your exhaustion laced in your frustration.

“I don’t know.”

His own weak and vulnerable exterior he showed made him want to dig into you again and make you scream with him, but he couldn’t put up a front either for the sake of proving something to you. It didn’t mean anything worthwhile anymore. When faced in front of you this time, in his woozy and intoxicated stupor, he couldn’t find the strength to be cruel tonight.

You were about to step aside to let him in, but that wasn’t short of him entirely barreling over onto your body. Kuni’s body finally shut down on him, your hands instinctively wrapped around him while his legs gave out from beneath him. The ground felt swept away from you too, until your back hit the doorframe.

“Hey, come on—” You urgently tried to shake him awake with the strength you could muster, but to no avail. Heat radiated off of him, and you slowly dragged him in and to the couch. His scent thick alcohol, mingling with the piercing smell of cigarettes. His face buried in the crook of your neck, the shallow and quiet remnants of the tears he couldn’t leave unspoken for.

You knew he was awake, because of the soft mumbling you couldn’t hear. You shut the door behind you, awkwardly shifting your weight to the other foot. “I won’t give you anything you don’t want me to, but you have to work with me. You’re not even thinking straight…”

“You’re not fuckin— thinking straight. I don’t need you.” He jumbled, thick with his lessening defiance, even with no true conviction, his voice choked with his own weariness. “Things could have been different, you could have told me I was doing something wrong. Why didn’t you fucking tell me I was doing something wrong?”

You froze, your mind in a blur of what he could even possibly be talking about. You didn’t know what to tell him, other than what you knew, and that was the problem. “I don’t know.” Your voice choked, tears welling up.

“But you knew what she did. You knew why she was so stuck on you.” He let out a small, bitter laugh. “You knew I would never have what you did, not even with your mom.”

“Is that why you…hate me so much? You wanted what I have?”

He didn’t respond at first, blinking slowly. He stared at the ceiling to grasp on to the spins he took with a stronghold and kept tight of it. His eyes dull, face flushed with alcohol as his brain rendered murky and tangled. “I wanted to be you.”

You knew he was sobbing before he came here, but it looked different under the light of your home. Like something he kept locked away for a while and tucked into the recesses of his mind, an enigma that was searched for in anguish. His throat bobbing with the effort to hold his sorrows, muscles in his face twitch as he tried to calm himself down. You knew he wanted to say more, but his words were swallowed every chance he found.

Swallowing hard, you felt what impact he wanted to make on you. It settled into your chest, luring you into heartbreak and comfort that you couldn’t seem to shake yet. This was the love of your life at one point, he, who refuses to look in your eye. “Is he actually dead?”

You didn’t want to answer it, nor did you even want to be in the same room as the urn, but you consistently looked at every day. It was a reality that no longer served as a vacant possibility. You slowly nodded, tilting your head towards the shrine you created next to the antiques.

His shoulders slumped, face twisted in anguish as the venom from what he did to hurt you stayed hauntingly between the two of you. "How could you even fucking let me in after that?" His body curled inward, hoping to make the affliction he felt less tangible. Diminishing the palpable discern.

"Because I know you didn't mean it." You finally spoke, voice was light and filled with a quiet sympathy. He looked at you, despite how much your throat tightened, you still persevered. "You just...can't say that to me. Not right now." Your voice cracked. "Or maybe...ever? I don't know."

Kuni’s eyes narrowed as well to look at it, lips parting as if was going to answer, but hardly any words came out instead. His breath was uneven, eyes sliding towards you while staying dull and distant. “Come here.”

The things he says settled over you like a shroud, you defied what he initially said while keeping a stiffened demeanor. You felt your breath get stuck in your throat, a harsh and raw torment. “I should get you something to eat so you can head home…I don’t think you should be here right now—”

“I’m not going to tell you again.” He didn’t waver, and instead, his eyes softened.

You didn’t move, squeezing your eyes as you felt your breath shake this time. You moved closer to him, his lingering desperation transforming into a volatile breach of your boundaries. If you could even recall having any with him at this point.

You quietly sat there in front of him, his body lying there almost still and you remained on the floor. The letters rested on the floor that you flinched at seeing again. He kept them with him, but you hid away the reminders he gave you. A phantom of adoration you shared tucked inside one of the boxes in your storage, the guilt all arose again as you stared deeper into his eyes.

He was the delicate one you always fawned over, doubling over on yourself whenever you saw him. You wondered how it was possible for things to get this screwed up for you. You didn’t want to fight him anymore, you didn’t want to even be on a thin rope with him. Your chest heaved softly, your throat full as you fought your tears, but they fell immediately as a raindrop on glass. Your dam broke, resolve being shattered while your sobs presented itself in uneven gasps.

Kuni didn’t smile at your sobbing this time, though, his hand missing the mark a few times trying to touch your cheek. He grazed your cheek gently, the cool and dark metal band on his middle touching your skin. “Did you mean what you said in those letters?”

You knew what he wanted from you. He wasn’t asking for help, nor forgiveness, but to bear the same distance again. You were heartbroken. “We shouldn't talk about that…”

“Then, admit you did write them, and I’ll leave it alone.” He lulled, tilting his head back a little.

“I did.” You proclaimed weakly. “I said I would be there for you. You were suffering for longer than I have, and a few years later I hear you’re doing amazing for yourself and I was given that opportunity to reconnect without actually facing it. I wanted to take it…I meant every word I said to you in those letters. And I’m sorry.”

“I was suffering for longer?” He repeated, quietly processing before scoffing and retracting his hand back. “My family’s still alive. You sat in here for years, letting everyone’s dust collect, in silence waiting for them to come back. You came back home after everything. You couldn’t do anything else but that, all you had were those two evil witches.”

Your lip trembled, the corners of your mouth pulling down while you put your face in your hands. A storm built behind your eyes. “And you.” You sobbed, “You meant so much to me.”

His eyes narrowed slowly, something indescribable crossing his expression. He watched you unravel, not exactly comfortable with shrugging it off, but unsure to confront you about it. “Yeah,” His voice came out groggy. “That’s the sad part.”

“You can’t say that to me,” More tears spilled over you. “You’re not a bad person for wanting what I got, it’s me for taking advantage of it.”

“You were never a bad person, (Y/N).” He sighed, his body screaming at him to turn away from you. Watching you cry was seething, but with that frustration bleeding him dry, it was obvious he was tired of pleading with you through hostile speech. “Sleep easier at night knowing that.”

“Then why did you leave me?” You choked out, wiping your face with your shaky hands. “Why did you shut me out so bad? I needed you, too.”

His eyes grew heavier, feeling an eventual loss of his former alertness. Even if it wasn’t the same home with the once two other people who lived here, he still could smell the same smells of the past he kept at the back of his mind. “You didn’t even have yourself, what did you need me for?”

And he was right. The amount of energy you put in everything around was indicator of that. Paying attention to how everything else was so you kept the quality of what you put together solid, and then giving little to no effort in finding a life away from finding your brother was practically nonexistent. You were the one person you didn’t love, while loving everyone else with open arms.

You lowered your head to the letters he dropped on the floor again, feeling your heart sink again. “I’m sorry, Zushi,” You wailed. “I’m really sorry.”

Your tears were hot and relentless, to which he couldn’t stand the sight of anymore. He reached his hand to the back of your head and pulled you down to his chest, an awkward gesture of his own comfort, but he stayed with you like this. The swirling of his vision slowly fading as he fought sleep.

“We can’t try again.” He bit out, through struggling resilience. “I promised myself back then, if I ever were to do this to you, that it will be the last chance I have. You need to move on, and I'm sorry that...I have to be the one to tell you that.”

"...Were you just forcing yourself that entire time to love me, then?" You whispered to him between snivels, your voice hardly even heard. The tears clung to your lashed, trembling there for a moment before leaving damp tracks on your skin.

"Don't delude yourself," He sighed, losing the battle with staying awake. "You were the only one I could love."

His voice faded, his eyes struggling to stay open, but the position he was in when he pushed your head down remained. You didn’t have the heart to wake him up, so you sat there all night, your head against his chest while your tears ran down endlessly, giving yourself quiet and abrupt chances to breathe. His truth pierced you like daggers, but you may have been too optimistic.

You didn’t know how you ended up sleeping in that position for so long, but by the next day, he was gone. Checking the time, it was seven in the morning. He left in the middle of the night.

previous ☆ masterlist ☆ next

THERE ARE not many things that can sway your interest ever since the "incident", but in spite of that, you pushed forward. you are now the owner of the biggest bakery chain in your city, consistently seeing couples and catering to them as such. you've been a big host at weddings, events for celebrities, and even a big support for your friends and family. you've even earned yourself a niche following as well by how sweet you are to everybody around you. but, even with your kindness, you don't have a particular spark that keeps you going anymore these days. that is until one of your employees starts suggesting you write love letters to customers who request your services. at first you thought it was a horrible idea that could easily turn into trouble, but that was until you were tasked with writing one to your own (very very famous) ex-boyfriend.

taglist ☆ — @seternic @chemiru @coquettemaiden @1kio0o @emiixuu

@agaygothicmushroom @yomishen @jingyuan-wife-real @toruscorpse @whoooismkeee

@sketcheeee @st4r4ngel @xionri @scaradooche @lightyagamifan

@pwushizz @alatusorrow @eutopiastar @magica-ren @slu7

@vaxmpi @theyluvkatt @kyon-cherri @suzydarling @mimi3lover

@auroratumbles @heusalettle @yourfavoritefreakyhan @kunimylovee

@czerwka @little-honey-the-third @featuredtofu @simonisferal @peachystea

@liuaneee @skyoverkill1 @mellowberrie @lalalaloveallmydays @mostlymoth

@mtndewbajablasted @vernith @lovekeychains @danhenglovebot @elizshade

@balladeersflower @kazumiku @bananasquash @neversore @yevurin

@franaby @vicslz @kamiboo @thegalaxyisunfolding @morgyyyyyyy

@feikyuu @tamikahoshiko @kissingkzuha @bbysatoruuu @rvoulte

@kinvasions @kukikoooo @adriannauodi @pumpkincitrus @usagiarchive

@eunseok-s @state-of-grac3 @ariesloves @trulyylee @lyzeivr

@suniika @animeobsessed56 @kamisstufff @samyayaya @scarawiki

@mywillt0live @lxkeeeee @sundays-prince @imnotyizhuo @js-a-silly-little-guy

@dontmindtheevie @mywillt0live

[neiptune]

it’s valentine’s day, you clown

cw: 1.2k wc, blank blogs don't interact, something something your volleyball superstar boyfriend tooru flies home to surprise you only to pass out on your bed, this is my first ever hq fic and it's a complete coincidence that it's about him please be nice and don't make any assumptions

thank you @moondust-lore for reading this 🤍

His breathing stays regular and quiet as you crawl onto the mattress. Your bed is still somehow comically small and far from ideal to accomodate that unique ensemble of long limbs, sturdy muscles and swooping brown hair. Yet his sleep is serene, features relaxed that fill your chest with warmth that almost prompts your fingers to run through smooth locks. How have they not been rendered thicker or dry by the sea salt yet?

You’re careful as you snuggle closer to his broad back, not really wanting to wake him up. A small smile creeps onto your lips at the thought of how tired he must’ve been, couldn’t even bother to properly slip underneath the covers, knocked out in seconds. Flying all the way to Japan, travelling for almost 24 full hours to surprise someone must do that to a person.

The shock has worn out, the sensation of your heart being one second from bursting and exploding into a million golden confetti has dimmed. Now your head feels clear enough for your mind to be focusing on the important stuff, the mundane thoughts you didn’t have the luxury of dwelling on for months are a messy but colorful vortex. Would he like the usual for dinner? Does the uniform or any shirts need some ironing? Yes, yes, Tooru favors dry cleaners because they’re practical and he’s rich but you desperately want to contribute. You want proof that he’s home, actually home. With his big designer suitcases and wrinkled shirts and ridiculously expensive glasses and a smile that still shifts your world’s axis.

You allow yourself to scoot closer, until your nose brushes against his shoulder. He radiates a comforting  warmth and smells nice as always. Of sunscreen, beaches, the cologne you have bought for his birthday. As you shut your eyes, memories from the previous night start slowly blurring the edges of your consciousness and lull you to sleep.

“Shit! Fuck!” you jolt awake at the unexpected profanities, the last thing you remember dreaming about including tanned skin and a much more peaceful scenery made of rolling waves and golden, powdery sand.

“What… what’s wrong?!”

Oikawa Tooru is looking at your with what could be only defined as a glare. Eyes squinted, accusatory worry lines and all.

“You let me sleep? Why were you sleeping too instead of waking me up? It’s late!” his pitch gets higher with each word and by the end of the fully formed sentence you’re grimacing. The awfully old digital alarm clock on your nighstand flashes a red 11:05 PM.

“I’m sorry!” you panic “I didn’t mean to fall asleep! I know it’s late but I can probably put something together for dinner anyway? Are you that hungry? Wait, actually, let me get something delivered and…”

Now he’s staring with an openly outraged look on his pretty face, which makes you think finishing the thought probably isn’t the smartest idea.

“You… don’t want me to order in? I mean, fine, you can pick any local restaurant or takeaway, I don’t really ca-”

“Are you stupid?”

Ok, well. That feels unfair.

“I already apologized for falling asleep, no need to be a jerk” now you’re squinting your eyes at him. One eye. The other is being relentlessly rubbed.

“You’re right” he sighs and his massive shoulders slump, head hanging low like a wounded animal “it’s not your fault. I’m the dumb one. Couldn’t even set an alarm”

“I think you’re blowing this out of proportion, we can still eat something. If you’re worrying about your sleep schedule, I’m sure I can find some sleeping pills or…”

Oikawa looks at you, exasperated.

“That’s definitely not what I’m worried about”

“What the hell are you worried about, then?”

“It’s valentine’s day, you clown”

You blink back your surprise, his fond eye roll not easing the heat that takes over your face as realization finally dawns on you. “That’s… that’s why you flew here?”

Tooru leans forward to lightly flick your forehead. A car passes down the street, the light bleeding through your shades brightens the room for a moment and you catch the sincere amusement in his eyes.

“Yes, darling dearest. That’s exactly why I flew here. I was also supposed to make plans, take you out on a proper date, rob a flower shop from the inside out instead of passing out and drooling on your favorite duvet”

You stare back at his comical frown for a few seconds more before falling back into your pillows with a chuckle.

“Glad you think this is funny and not irredeemably gross. Stop giggling, let me think. I’m gonna go buy the most expensive champagne bottle and pick dandelions along the fucking sidewalk if I have to, and then-”

“Tooru”

“What?” he’s already swinging one leg over the edge of the bed “I’ll be quick”

“You’re here”

Oikawa snorts.

“Yes, I’m still here. Now, if you could kindly let go of my shirt…”

“I don’t want any of those things. You know I don’t want them”

He huffs and air comes out of his nose. “Yeah, I know. But I wanted it to be special” his tone is petulant but you recognize the real thing vibrating underneath, the genuine disappointment.

“It’s already special because you’re here. The only thing that could make it extra special is you filling this cold, empty spot next to me” you pat the covers with a lenient smile and Oikawa allows himself three seconds, three entire seconds to sulk and flash you those big, wet, sopping eyes with a pout that makes him less of a volleyball superstar and more of a kicked labrador puppy.

You welcome his painfully heavy body on top of yours, sharp angles and hard muscles that somehow melt perfectly in your embrace. He’s holding you so tight, head buried in the crook of your neck, soft hair tickling your cheek.

“I’m sorry” Tooru murmurs the apology quietly and seals it into your skin. You know he truly is, devastated as he always gets when something doesn’t go according to the plan. Always one for grandiose gestures and loud displays of affection, chasing whatever it takes to validate how he feels just in case the other person needs proof, always additional proof heaven forbid they feel neglected or get bored. His confidence wavering, his mind always running 100 miles an hour. Am I doing enough? Am I still enough?

“I love you” you reply for good measure and his arms tighten around your body.

But do I deserve it?

“Thank you for flying across the planet to get to me” you smile into his hair before kissing the side of his head “I missed you”

“I’d fly across the solar system to get to you” he’s smiling too, it’s in his voice.

“Corny” with a grin, you pinch his cheek until he looks up with an exaggerated, pained groan. But before he has the chance to protest, you take his disgustingly pretty face in your hands. 

“Wherever you fly from, I’ll be there to welcome you home”

Tooru smiles into the kiss, chases your lips when you relax back into the pillows.

And I’ll spend my life trying to deserve it.

Good thing he has at least five different Havanna Alfajores variety boxes somewhere in one of those suitcases. And two tickets to fly back to Argentina.

[anangelwhodidntfall]

Good Enough: Dad!Jake Sully

Avatar Masterlist 

word count: 1k

description: Once your father’s world, you start acting out when he starts ignoring you and only your father can figure out what is going on

Jake and Neytiri were at loss, especially Jake he didn't understand what was going on with you lately and why you were acting out so much.  All you ever did anymore was talk back and argue with them, and they couldn't figure out why, usually Lo'ak was the problem child, not you. Today was the final straw when you snuck out to join the war party after Jake specifically told you to stay behind and watch Tuk and help with the wounded, something you clearly didn't agree with.

"Jesus, I let you two geniuses fly a mission and you disobey direct orders," he sighed. "Not to mention you almost got your sister killed!" He said to Neteyam and Lo'ak who you felt bad for, your dad was always so hard on them.

"I came on my own." You said rolling your eyes and making Jake whip his head in your direction.

"What did you say?" He asked.

"I said I.came.on.my.own. and that these two tried to get me to return home and I didn't listen to them, so if it's anyone's fault, it's mine." You said looking in dead in the eye as Jake was rendered speechless at you.

"I'll deal with you later." He said tiredly running a hand down his face.

"Yeah, it's always later with you." You mumbled as you left the tent and went to go see your grandmother so she could look at you.

After getting looked at by your grandma, you headed back to your tent hoping to get some sleep, making sure to avoid your father and how much he couldn't see how much you were hurting and that you were acting out to get his attention. You had been laying there silently crying when you heard your parents talking, probably assuming you were asleep.

"I don't know what I'm gonna do with her, I can't keep doing this." Your father said.

"Jake she's just going through something...l can try and talk to her." Your mother offered.

"I know she is....but why can't she be more like Neteyam or Kiri, you know?" He said breaking your heart as you realized you were never gonna be good enough for him.

"Ma Jake, don't talk like that...she is perfect just the way she is, sure her attitude could use some fixing but I still love her as the day she was born and so should you." Your mother said to him but it was too late as you knew how he truly felt.

You waited until everyone was asleep and decided to go for a night-time flight to clear your head and think about everything. You walked over to your Ikran and climbed on top of her before taking off.  After flying for a bit, you landed in a pasture and just relaxed trying to calm your thoughts wondering if one day you would be good enough for your father.

Jake was restless that night, hating that yours and his relationship were so strained, there used to be a day when you weren't seen without him and now you were practically strangers. He got up and went to check on you when he saw your tent empty making him worry as you and ikran were gone. He climbed on top of his and circled around looking for you or Ikran until he saw you both which he let out a sigh of relief.

"If you have come to yell at me or lecture me more, please go." You said not even looking at him which broke his heart.

"I haven't. Baby girl I just wanna figure out what's been going on with us lately?" He said taking a seat next to you.

"Why? It's not actually like you care." You said turning away from him and making him frown at your words.

"Hey talk to me. Where is this coming from?" He asked gently and even more worried.

"I heard what you said to mom about how you wish I was more like Kiri or Neteyam..Do you realize I've been acting out to get your attention because I don't feel good enough for you! You the one who trained me and yet you don't let me go out on missions but you'll tell Lo'ak of all people?? How am I supposed to feel when I'm told to sit here and take care of others when I know I could be out there helping you and mom?  You don't talk to me or have any time for me and I hate that so much, it's always later baby girl, or not now baby girl. I miss our relationship but it doesn't seem like you do." You said breaking down into tears as Jake sat there in shock at your words before moving towards you and gathering in his arms.

Jake held you in his arms gently rocking you as he tried to calm you down while he also processed your words, he never meant to make you feel that way, that you weren't good enough for him because you were if any of his children were a carbon copy of him, it was you. Once your breathing was back to normal he decided to speak.

"You are good enough for me more than...I never meant to make you feel like you weren't and I'm sorry that I did...when I have to stay back here with your sister and the others it's not because I don't believe in your abilities as a warrior, trust me I do...it's because I know that if something was to happen, they would have you to protect and defend them...I'm sorry I made you think I was doubting you or didn't believe in you because I do so much. I didn't realize that I had gotten so wrapped in the war party stuff and your brothers that I ignored you, it was never my intention. I hope you can forgive me, baby girl." He said.

"As long as you can forgive me for the way I've been acting." You said looking at him.

"Of course, what do you say tomorrow we spend the day together like we used to do?" He offered you.

"I would love that. I love you, dad." You said to him.

"I love you too baby girl." He said pressing a kiss to your forehead.

[operator-report]

In middle school, I read a short story for English class called Flowers for Algernon. Maybe you’ve read it, too. In the story, a disabled man named Charlie is given a medicine that cures his disability. Over the course of the story, he comes to realize that his “cure” is temporary and that he will “regress” into being disabled again. The story makes it clear that this is a tragedy. As a disabled teenager when I first read it, the story affected me deeply.

I’d like to talk about David and Noelle. 

Content warnings for discussion of suicide, self-harm, ableism and eating disorders below the cut. Spoilers for Worm through arc 27. 

When I was first reading arc 18, one of the things that stuck out to me is how much time the story spends on Eidolon. For me, it was the first time I paid much attention to him - prior to that, Eidolon was just an extremely powerful background character to me. But in arc 18, we learn that (1) Eidolon is losing his powers and (2) he believes that fighting Echidna will allow him to tap into some sort of reservoir to bring them back.

We find this out, of course, through Tattletale exposing him, which is always an extremely embarrassing event for Tattletale’s target. It makes it extremely clear that what Eidolon is doing is pathetic. He is going to kill a teenage girl so he can feel something. 

Which would be messed up enough, right? We don’t need to make this even worse, right? Wrong. Because Wildblow has spent the last several thousand words building up the Case 53s as X-Men style metaphors for oppressed groups, and one of the forms of oppression that Wildblow generally writes well is ableism. I think you can consider most, if not all of the Case 53s as disabled in some way. I think the link is extremely clear with Noelle.

Noelle doesn’t get her powers from traditional Cauldron human experimentation - at least, not directly. Instead, she and Krouse are facing what is, to them, a no-win scenario. They’re quarantined with limited access to medical care. Breaching this quarantine would permanently render them criminals. If Noelle survives her surgery, which is a pretty big if, she’ll become disabled, in a way that both Krouse and Noelle agree is ugly and undesirable. She won’t be able to do “boyfriend-girlfriend stuff” because she won’t be “any good to look at, after.” 

Krouse and Noelle are terrified of death, yes, but they’re also terrified of disability. They are desperate for control over Noelle’s body, control that, as of that moment, only the state has. (Remember the quarantine?) Krouse pressures Noelle into drinking the vial. Noelle is cured. 

Noelle’s cure does not last. In attempting to assert control, her body becomes uncontrollable. Her body is her trauma and her eating disorder made literal. She still needs care.

Worm would be bad if this is why her life sucks. But Worm does something better, instead. Noelle goes through hell, not just due to the sheer difficulty of having her power, but because of the way her teammates and Coil treat her. They talk about Noelle like she’s already dead. They’re ashamed of bringing her the food she needs. When Krouse “includes” Noelle in a discussion in arc 12, it’s mostly perfunctory. They do not believe Noelle is human any longer. They lock her away.

Noelle doesn’t want to be put in a cage. Noelle doesn’t want to be dehumanized. In interlude 18, when we get insight into Noelle’s thoughts, we learn that what Noelle is angry about is the fact that Krouse locked her in a concrete bunker and placated her. When she tells people not to look at her, there’s a coda to that sentence that she doesn’t get to verbalize: don’t look at me like that. 

This is the person who Eidolon is going to kill. 

Via the Simurgh, this is a person Eidolon has unknowingly created.

A few thousand words of Worm go by. It’s Gold Morning. Eidolon is fighting Scion. Now, at the end of the book, we finally get substantial insight into David, the man behind the mask. 

David takes a Cauldron vial to cure his disability. David sees this as the only way out, after an unsuccessful application to join the military, and then, an unsuccessful suicide attempt. David is bearing an immense amount of shame and internalized ableism. David is worried that father’s friends are watching him. (Don’t look at me.) David cleaves the world into two kinds of people: those who can have jobs, who are liked and respected because they are useful; and people like him, who are useless.

It’s a terrible way to think. Without that worldview, how could a person not take the vial? David wants to be used, because David wants to be useful. He never gets the independence he craves – not when he’s in that level of debt to Cauldron – but he gets to be useful, and that’s one of the best things you can be.

Like Noelle’s, like Charlie’s in Flowers, David’s cure doesn’t work. His abilities are wearing off. He is essentially told, when Doctor Mother administers his booster shots, that his medicine is too expensive. 

Cauldron creates Noelle. David, as Cauldron’s soldier, has a role to play in her creation. David knows exactly what he is doing to Noelle. It happened to him. Worm fandom talks a lot about David being a father. He’s a father in more ways than one. (David’s father is always watching him.) (Don’t look at me.)

Cauldron never cures David’s ableism. In his world, you can be useful, or you can die. David asks Noelle if she wants to win. Noelle tells him no. You can have a job, or you can kill yourself. When David tries to kill Noelle to help himself, isn’t that a mercy?

Of course it isn’t. It goes without saying that all of this is extremely fucked up. When it comes to disability, “cure” is a complicated concept. I’m not going to get into all the ways it can be treated; this post is already a thousand words long. But I do think that Worm, through Noelle and David and the concept of the Cauldron vial, provides an extremely vivid picture of the problems with cure. 

Under ableist logic, when you have a disability, a cure is something you’re expected to want. Without it, the story goes, you can’t be useful. You can’t do boyfriend-girlfriend stuff. The expectation is social, like the act of staring. Your desire for it should drive how you organize your life – it is control, like a quarantine. David is crushed by that expectation. He throws his lot in with Cauldron, the cure-makers. The expectation is passed along to Noelle, and even though David can recognize that inheritance, he cannot imagine any other way to respond to it other than attempted murder.

At the beginning of this post, I mentioned that Flowers for Algernon is a tragedy. The reason that story has stuck with me so long is that I keep going back and forth as to why. Is it a tragedy because Charlie goes back to being disabled? There’s a good chance that’s what the author intended. I don’t know. It would be a pretty shitty story if that were the case. Is it a tragedy because people only treat Charlie well when he’s “cured,” and when that stops, he’ll go back to abuse? Seems plausible. I don’t think there’s one right answer. Regardless, when you’re disabled, there’s an immense pressure to seek out a cure, and a cognizable loss when it is withheld. The fact that Worm captures that social pressure and social loss so well is extremely compelling for me, and I’m going to be thinking about these characters for a long time.

[kurishiri]

both ends clear . . . “ a convenient, happy ‘reality’ ”

꒰ ִ ֺ ⊹ @ notice ⊹ ֺ ִ ꒱ this translation may not be 100% accurate or contain creative liberties due to characterization or narrative flow purposes. if you enjoy, please consider reblogging, but don’t repost these or claim these as your own!

— 🤍 both ends cleared story for alfons. this is all told in his point of view.

— cw: alcohol consumption, invasion of personal space, awkwardly translated smut; you know the drill!

—— Alfons’ POV ——

—— Flashback ——

Having thought it would be infinitely better to die on the roadside, I had left the orphanage. And on that day,

a cat was crying in an alley.

That day, my lips got cut after a beating, so I still had dried bread that was handed to me in my pocket...

Alfons: ...Want some?

When I offered the bread, the cat slowly crept toward me, and then nibbled on the bread.

Alfons: ...You want to live that much?

A: Even though this reality isn’t even kind to you...

The kitten didn’t utter a sound, only continuing to eat.

Albeit foolishly and miserably so, it tried its very hardest to live.

Alfons: And if you want to live that badly... I guess I better help you then.

—— End flashback ——

Kate: I-I overslept again——!

Alfons: Ahha! First thing in the morning and you’re in ever high spirits, I see.

Still nude, Kate’s complexion paled as soon as she woke up. At this point, I’ve seen this so often one hand was hardly enough to count.

Alfons: Now now, why so bent on this? It’s not as though you are going to die.

A: I’m more than positive that if you apologize with all your heart, you’ll be let off the hook.

Kate: Wh—you do know this is your fault, don’t you!?

K: I even told you yesterday that I had a promise to keep so I needed to get up early today, and yet...

Alfons: And yet we did such naughty things, and it escalated to the point you ended up crying out, no?

Kate: ...!

Rendered speechless, she turned away and got off the bed,

and she pulled her clothes, standing ready in this room’s closet, and began to change.

Alfons: Goodness, what a cruel one you are, Kate, leaving your lover behind on the bed for a promise you made with another man.

A: Since when have you become so wicked, I wonder?

While sprawled on the bed, I placed my elbow on the pillow and looked on at Kate, whose lips were in a pout.

Kate: Well, I promised I was going to go and get the photo I took of you before,

K: so there’s really nothing going on I would feel guilty about.

Alfons: Hehe... there’s no need to deny it so vehemently; I assure you I know. After all, you——

Kate: ...I what?

Alfons: ——Well, your body just can’t bear it unless it’s with me, you see.

Kate: ...I was a fool to even ask in earnest. I’ll be going now.

Alfons: Yes, yes, have a good time. Ahh, and I think I will be coming back late.

Kate: Ah——that’s right, today... you have a mission, don’t you? Be careful and come back safely, alright?

Alfons: Worry not, for unlike a certain someone I am quite faithful.

Kate: That’s not what I meant...

K: If you go out of your way to get hurt and whatnot, I’ll... I’ll punish you...!

Kate’s face reddened as she declared this before turning and leaving the room.

(...‘Punish,’ she says...) (O_O)

Alfons: Pfft, ahahaha!

A: Ahh... dear me, what darling words.

A: Indeed, why are Kate’s parting threats always so cute like this, I wonder.

(Like how alcohol and staying up late was bad for the body, or how if I got hurt she would punish me...)

For threats those words were much too kind, and it was quite amusing to say the least.

The reason she was going out, and her worry, I knew they were all for my sake.

And yet, that heroic side of her, as astounding as it was, was so cute, I couldn’t help but be a little mean and tease her a bit: call it a bad habit of mine.

(Such a troublesome way of caring, and yet it’s the only way I know how. And perhaps, I may someday run out of love.)

My heart, long used to throwing away any notion of hope, still whispered to ‘let it become that way.’

But every time that happened, I would hear Kate’s voice in my mind.

——It won’t turn out that way!

(The Kate in my mind would never leave me behind.)

That was my convenient delusion.

And, to me, my happy illusion.

—— Time skip ——

(Now then... what sort of interesting things is the little robin up to now?)

When I had returned to the castle after the mission, I was told by Elbie that Kate had gone to the pub.

—— Flashback ——

Alfons: Why again, so late at night?

Elbert: Because when your missions end late, you often go to the pub.

E: So, Kate said that she would wait there...

—— End flashback ——

(There is no such person in that pub who would leave a woman there so late at night alone.)

I went down the familiar staircase and slipped into the lively pub——and as expected, Kate was being pressed by a ‘friend.’

Black-haired young man: Don’t be so stuck up now. How about we two lonely people get along and have a drink?

Kate: I’ll pass. Besides, I’m not really lonely.

Like a prideful cat, she had her face turned,

but perhaps in an effort to swallow her displeasure and fear, Kate’s hold on her glass tightened.

Black-haired young man: You waitin’ for Al? Not like you made any promise with him, right?

Black-haired young man: Leave him be. He’s a good-for-nothing who doesn’t have an ounce of love in him, you know?

(A good-for-nothing without an ounce of love... indeed, if one were to ask about me at this pub,)

(not a single person would answer with something other than that, I reckon.)

While I counted the words in the repertoire of words that were used as insults against me in my mind——

Kate, for the first time, turned toward the ‘friend’ at last.

Kate: I won’t deny that Alfons is the lowest of the low, with no morals or ethics to speak of, and a good-for-nothing,

K: but he does have much more than an ounce of love.

(...) (O_O)

Black-haired young man: Pfft, hahaha! A woman who’s so easily fooled like you doesn’t come around every day either. ...But in all seriousness, you really should let him go.

Black-haired young man: He’ll make a mess of your life, and it’ll be too late to regret anything after you’ve been through it.

My ‘friend’——Craig looked at Kate with narrowed eyes, slightly saddened, as though he was seeing someone else in her,

and he quietly reached out for those shoulders.

Alfons: You sure like getting hands on with others, don’t you.

Craig: Whoa—!?

Just before his hands touched her shoulder, I stopped him with my palm,

and Craig practically flew out of his counter chair.

Kate: Alfons!?

Craig: W-what the... what’s the big deal? Not like you ever had a special someone before.

C: So this time wouldn’t be any different from a whim of a relationship before fading right out, right?

Kate: ...

For a moment, Kate’s expression wavered with a bit of sadness.

Seeing that left a bad taste in me, and before I could think, my mouth moved first.

Alfons: ——Why, I beg to differ?

A: She’s such a darling toy, one I could hardly leave behind. After all, I very much am one with much more than an ounce of love.

Kate: ...!

Alfons: But putting that aside, Craig,

Craig: ...What is it?

Alfons: At least on the anniversary of your wife’s passing, I hope you may spend the rest of this night in a good mood.

I removed his gloves, and then gently touched the back of his neck.

Alfons: ——Tonight, shut yourself out those self-condemning notions, and go to sleep back home after another drink.

A: “And perhaps, you may see a nostalgic dream, rivaled by none other.”

—— Time skip: night city ——

Alfons: Goodness, to think you would go out to play at night and seduce another man... you naughty one, you.

Kate: No, it’s not that! I was thinking you might come by here, so I was waiting for you.

K: Like, maybe you would come for a drink after a mission so you wouldn’t feel as weary and whatnot.

K: And I wanted to be there too, if possible...

Alfons: None the more noble, I see,

A: as your partner is a man who gets told things like how ‘this is on a whim before fading right out.’

Kate: But I don’t think that.

Alfons: Even though you seemed rather saddened for a moment back there?

Kate: That... is because, I thought how even among your friend circle, there are those that misunderstand you.

Alfons: Aha, but it’s not a misunderstanding? I really am someone who will turn down nobody who comes to me, nor will I chase after anyone who leaves.

A: For you see, I’m but a piece of trash who would fade right out if things become troublesome.

Kate: But the people you spend time with are always those that are suffering, right?

K: So, even when you ‘fade right out,’ that is also for other people’s sake, isn’t it?

K: I can’t think of that as loveless. After all...

K: What else could the feeling of wanting to help others be called, if not love?

Alfons: ......... (O_O)

—— Flashback ——

Alfons: And if you want to live that badly... I guess I better help you then.

—— End flashback ——

If her words really were true...

Then what I had felt at that time was ‘love’——at least, that may be the case.

A single word from her was enough to make such a convenient interpretation feel like reality.

Kate: Before, I was really happy. When you said straight up how you wouldn’t leave me.

K: And the fact how, after that, you showed Craig an illusion...

K: In the end, I really do love you, Alfons.

Instead of falling out of love, she said such a thing with a casual smile.

(...To think that, more than this happy illusion in my mind and whatnot,)

(the Kate in reality is so much more convenient to me...)

Alfons: ...You are just full of surprises, aren’t you.

Kate: Huh? What was that?

Alfons: Goodness, you weren’t listening?

A: I said that tonight we’re going to do so many naughty things you won’t know what’s what anymore.

—— Time skip: Alfons’ room ——

Kate: Ahh...

Like a cat, Kate’s waist was lifted as she lied face down on the bed,

and when I pulled away from her, she jumped a little.

After climaxing again, she shivered at the lingering sound of her wet entrance.

When I inserted a finger in that stirred up area, she lowered her hips as though becoming frightened.

Kate: N-no more...

Alfons: Really? Because the inside of you seems to think otherwise around my fingers. ...See.

Kate: no, I—ah, ahh——

While kneading the swollen bud with my thumb, I moved my two fingers inside.

I went for the place she loved the most, where she squeezed my fingers, and together with a lewd sound, she squirted.

Alfons: Hehe... to think teasing you just a little was enough to make you come, your body has become quite the naughty thing, hasn’t it.

Kate: I... I wanted to look at the photo... together with you though...

The envelope she received, which contained the photo that had just been processed,

was left unopened on the side table.

Alfons: You can look at photos at any time... so how about looking at the real me here?

Kate: ...ngh... uh...?

I took her limp wrists and pulled her up,

And Kate, her eyes seeming to melt with intoxication, went along with being pulled.

(As usual, she’s quite defenseless, isn’t she...)

When would she realize that shaking her head the moment she finally realized that the place she was taken to was in front of the mirror

would have the opposite effect, I wonder?

My hand made its way behind her knee before lifting her leg up.

Kate: no... ah...

Alfons: See now, look here, won’t you. ...So that you won’t ever forget.

Kate: ...!

When I murmured those words, Kate tried to bear any sense of shame she had.

Alfons: How lewd it feels with my cock in your mouth.

Kate: hah... haa... ah, ahh——

Alfons: ...And also,

A: in what ways I love you.

Not wanting to forget me even after I died, she would record me,

and look straight forward while pushing down her embarrassment, engraving them into her memory.

(Kate, truly, what a pitiable, darling soul you are.)

(All that effort, even when I have no intention of dying before you.)

But, I had no intention of saying that to her either. In all likeliness, it would remain my secret for the rest of this lifetime.

(After all, seeing how your mind is filled to the brim with me, and how hard-working you are, brings me no end of amusement.)

(And, even if you were to find out this secret of mine——)

(I’m sure you would be exasperated and angry, but still you would love me after that.)

This may not necessarily amount to a convenient delusion,

but those teary eyes that looked at me through the mirror let me think that.

After we indeed felt so good we didn’t know what was what anymore,

Kate fell asleep, with me holding her. And suddenly, I felt a nostalgic rush from the silence of the night.

I remembered that very night, when I had fallen asleep while holding a small warmth I had found in an alley.

That was the first night I had ever felt such serenity in the silence.

masterlist🪞 ╱ ko-fi ☕️

NOTE: thank you to everyone who has kept up with this translation and supported me (especially those who have commented or reblogged)! it means the world to me and makes these more-than-two-months worth it if you enjoyed it 🥹🫶 i plan to translate his side stories as well if i can, though they may be out of order.

꒰ ִ ֺ ⊹ @ tags🏷️ ⊹ ֺ ִ ꒱ @drachonia @.comment, send an ask off anon, or dm to be added or removed!

[majestyeverlasting]

A Sure and Steady Thing

Pairing: Eddie Munson x Reader

Summary: A rainy evening in Hawkins sets your lake plans awry, but brings you closer together back at his place through a confession you didn't quite see coming.

Word Count: 2k

Features kissing and big feelings.

Relaxing into the passenger seat, you close your eyes and listen to the pattering rain. With how clear and blue the sky had been, doubting the weatherman hadn’t seemed so bad. He’d been wrong before, speaking of storms that never reared their heads. Except this evening, as dark clouds settled over Hawkins, that was far from the case. 

Eddie can’t keep up with all of the fat droplets rushing down the window but he sure does make a game out of it like when he was a kid. 

He doesn’t stop until he feels the gentle pull of you wrapping one of his curls around your finger. Wash day was two nights ago, so it’s still soft as silk. Curiosity glimmers in his eyes as he directs his gaze to your careful movements. 

You smile at him. “Remember when I used to do this in Mrs. O'Donnell's?” 

Halfway through senior year, the guy who sat behind him dropped out and you took his seat. Eddie had seen you around before, but only enough to offer nods of acknowledgement. The day you finally gave into the urge to play with his hair he didn’t tell you to stop. 

“You were in that class with me?” A smirk pulls at his lips. 

“Yeah,” you play along. “Had a big, fat crush that took you about five hundred years to see.” 

Chuckling, he looks down and begins turning one of his rings. 

Touching his hair expanded to drawing shapes on his back to passing cutesy notes. Somehow he’d still convinced himself that it was all some trick of the fluorescent lights. It wasn’t until you admitted your feelings straight to his face that he stopped holding back from expressing his. 

“I got there in the end, though,” he says as you uncurl your finger. 

Looking out the windshield, you can barely make out the line of trees before you. Let alone the trail that leads down a small hill to the lakefront. The rain showed no immediate sign of letting up, and there was only so much to do bound to a couple seats. 

“Maybe we should plan for another day,” you suggest.

“If you’re tired of sitting here with me, you could just say so.” If it wasn’t for the lilt in his voice you would’ve believed his sincerity.  

There’s fondness in your eyes as you meet his gaze. “When did I say that, hmm? Just don’t wanna be cramped in a van, is all.” 

His eyes flit down to your lips when you offer a sweet smile that’s convincing enough. The console creaks as he braces a forearm arm on it to lean closer to you. 

You melt a little when he presses his lips to yours. Your first kiss had gone something like this, just moments before he’d pulled out of the bustling school parking lot to drive you home. It was over before it began, rendering you both silent and grinning like fools under the spell of love. 

It was nothing like the kiss you shared now that was as sure and steady as the falling rain. 

There’s a tender depth to his eyes when you part. Like you’re staring straight through to an unbarred part of him that was just for you. 

“We take the long way home if you want,” you say. 

He smiles at that word. Home. 

With how often you found yourself at his trailer, it was just as much yours. Any place was capable of feeling like home when there was love within its walls. He found that out for himself the day his mom dropped him off at Wayne’s trailer with a trash bag, a suitcase, and wide eyes. He eventually wanted to go off and grow into another home with you. 

“What’s that look for?” You tilt your head. 

Instead of answering, he gives your chin a gentle pinch between his thumb and forefinger before starting up the engine again. 

•••

The streets of Hawkins are quiet and empty. Even more so than they usually are. By the time he pulls into Forest Hills trailer park, your hand has long been grasped in his. He gives it a gentle squeeze as he comes to a stop in front of his place. 

“On my count?” 

You nod, grabbing onto the door handle. 

“Three…two…one!” 

Both of you hop out of the van at the same time, weaving towards the front door. Warm raindrops immediately begin darkening your clothes and wetting your skin. Muddier parts of the ground give under your footsteps, but you’re careful not to tread too heavily. The wind picks up, thick with the sweet scent of the earth. 

You stop behind as Eddie as he pushes the key into the lockhole—or so you thought. They fall out of his grip and clink to the wooden steps as he curses. The first streak of lighting lights the sky, followed by a low rumbling of thunder.  

He snickers as he tries again. “Take two.” 

Both of you clamber inside this time around. Thankfully, it’s warm and you aren’t met with the chill of the AC against your wet skin. There’s an intimate promise in being back. Everything is just as you left it, your belongings mixed in with his and Wayne’s and almost blending in. You take off your shoes and leave them on the mat by the door. 

“I’ll bring everything in later,” Eddie says as he rubs the moisture on his arms. 

The shrill ring of the landline interrupts his next thought. 

“Hello?” he says upon answering. “Hey, Jess, what’s up?” There’s a curious furrow between your brows as you walk over to hug him from behind. 

When he peeks back at you, you kiss his shoulder. 

“And he just told you this today?...Yeah, no, I’ll be able to come in then.” You perk up in interest. 

“Really, it’s no problem, man. Shit happens.” Eddie looks down at your fingers as you slip them under the hem of his shirt, gracing over old scars. 

“Alright, see you tomorrow.” 

When he puts the phone back on the base, you make an inquisitive sound. 

“I gotta go into the shop early,” he tells you. 

Humming, you splay your fingers over the warmth of his stomach. “No staying up late then.”

A hard feat when he was with you. There were always more conversations to have, more kisses to share, another movie to watch. Time always escaped from you, if you ever had a grip at all. 

As Eddie turns around in your hold, you wrap your arms around his neck. 

“What now?” Your question is light. 

“I dunno,” he murmurs, drawn in again by your nearness and the sweet scent of your perfume. “I mean, I’ve got a couple ideas…”

You smile against his lips when they meet yours. 

It’s a feeling you get lost in, letting yourself sink and then rise up again. There’s a warmth that builds and builds, and because there is no place for it to overflow you have to contain it all. It’s the only type of burning that’s ever felt good. 

Eddie pulls away just long enough to lead you over to the couch. After he sinks down into the plush cushions, you straddle his thighs like they’re the best seat in the house. The weight of your body makes his head spin, and the way your chest brushes his as you lean in again makes him thirst like he’s gone without.

So he drinks and drinks and drinks more of you in.

For the longest time he swore the universe kept the sweetest things in life tucked away from him. Somehow you’d slipped through the cracks and found your way to him against the odds. 

A sudden gust of wind blows, and the trailer walls creek in a way that makes you pull away. As you take a look around, you realize the warm glow of the lights have disappeared. All that’s left is the soft natural light pouring in. 

Eddie watches the skin of your neck as you look everywhere but him. 

“Power’s out,” you note, voice thick. “Should we turn on the radio in case they’re saying anything important?” 

His hands squeeze your waist in what you assume to be an acknowledgement of your words. But it's really because you’re sitting so pretty with bright eyes and dewy lips. Turning back around to the sight of him staring so intently makes warmth rise to your cheeks. 

“There’s that look again,” you softly accuse. “What’s going on up here?” You tap your index finger against his temple before trailing it down under his chin, making him shiver. 

He purses his lips and shrugs.   

“Try me.” 

He squeezes your waist tighter, this time to stay grounded to earth. Outside, the storm begins to wane as if the universe is setting the stage for him. 

“You’re it for me,” he finally says. “There’s a bunch of stuff I haven’t done and a bunch of stuff I still need to learn, but I’m sure about you.”  

It feels like a garden begins to bloom within you, right down to the bone. 

Being sure about anything was a risk. It took the type of faith that asked you to walk blindly into the future, relying only on what you knew in the now. If he didn’t know anything else, he knew that life without you wouldn’t be half as worth living. The happiness you drew out of him was immeasurable day after day. He’d stopped trying to make sense of it. 

Wayne had warned him about a love like this one evening as they were looking through pictures of his late wife when Eddie was still a boy. He’d told him that one day somebody would come along and knock him off his feet in a way that made him question everything he thought he knew about himself—but in the best possible way. 

It sounded obscure at the time. Eddie didn’t want to fall or be forced to rethink anything. At eleven-years-old, he swore all he needed for the rest of his life was his guitar. Wayne had laughed at his nephew’s confidence, but still made him promise that when that type of love came around, he didn’t run from it no matter how much it terrified him. 

Eddie found himself running from a lot thereafter. All he seemed to do was run, and run, and run. It wasn’t until he officially met you in Mrs. O'Donnell's English class that he slammed on the brakes for one of the few times in his life. 

You lean forward until your forehead touches his. “I love you so much it hurts sometimes,” you whisper. 

Eddie laughs a little, overwhelmed. “Good to know we’re in the same boat.” 

He takes hold of your left hand and blindly runs his thumb over your ring finger. 

You were a couple of kids from Hawkins, Indiana, who’d seen the impossible, falling in love and drunk on the thought of forever—the world would’ve never thought. 

The storm has rolled out by the time the sun begins to set, and fleeting daylight cuts through the clouds in defined golden streaks. It looks like heaven has been cracked open over Hawkins. As the two of you take it all in from the front porch, you can’t help but suppose it has. 

Come the next weekend as you’re sitting beside Eddie on the shore of Lover’s Lake, you can’t take your eyes off the way your engagement ring marvelously catches the light. 

-

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[tokoyamisstuff]

Fragments Pt. 3/3

Homelander / GN! Reader

Summary: Before he'd be able to meet you again, Homelander has a realization.

Warnings: None.

A/N: Let's be fr he would not fucking say that, but let's pretend he's self-aware. Not proofread and pretty messy.

“I care not for his sanity. I care for his happiness. I care for his soul. Let him be mad if mad is what he needs.” - Queen Charlotte (Bridgerton)

Homelander fit seamlessly into his old life - or rather role.

There wasn't any time to process what had happened, since a throughoutly investigation was quickly followed by bland boring routine again.

Vought almost immediately released a statement concerning Homelanders abscence, something about a secret mission that required him to be undercover. They're even planning to make a movie about this fake bullshit already, unbelievable.

The physical examination that followed was the worst part, at least if you asked him. He loathed hospitals for obvious reasons, their bright white enterior reminding him just a tad bit too much of the Bad Room. Yet in the end they were unable to find any residue of the drug, poison or whatever depowered him in his system.

And while yes, the threat of an unknown enemy having the basis to one day potentially render all supes human again sure was concerning - but the fact that the short time Homelander spent without his powers was the happiest he's ever been left a bitter aftertaste.

You on the other hand had been released after a brief interrogation and background-check. Even now they still worried you might leak top-secret information to the public, but they feared Homelander's fury even more - and he made it absolutely clear that anyone daring to lay just a finger on you would meet a terrifying end.

Both of you had never spoken a word about what else happened between you back in the arctic, but that was none of their business either way.

After all, you were no one.

Your whole existence was insignificant compared to his greatness, there's no way you could ever become a threat to him. Simply live your measly little life and stay out of his one...

...easier said than done when you've practically ingrained yourself into his heart, still consuming his every waking moment.

For the people at Vought somehow a quiet Homelander was even more unsettling than his usual, duplicitous benignity.

They are used to randomly fall victim to his whims, constantly being on edge around him. Basically anything could happen at any time, to anyone and without even so much as a warning.

But as of late...

"Homelander?" Maeve was the only one bold enough to wave in front of his face, making him break the reminiscing. "You there?"

"Hmm?" The man looked around, seeing all eyes on him - business as usual. Ashley was standing in front of the Seven, yet whatever she was babbling about went on deaf ears with her superior.

It was like this ever since his return, this nagging feeling as if he was only physically present. He heard people talk and go about their day but everything was so far away...most of the time he just dozed off into the distance, eyes staring right through until he lost focus of his surroundings.

One corner of his mouth begins to twitch, feeling even more irritated by those oppressing trifles than ever before. He takes a moment to collect himself, hands folded neatly on the table. "Do what you want, I couldn't care less" was his firm answer, even though he didn't know the question - or if he was even asked one. "Excuse me."

"The fuck is his deal lately?" A-Train dared adressing the elephant in the room, albeit still being in super-hearing range, pointing over his shoulder to the door their leader had just rushed out of.

The Deep shrugged, tension leaving his shoulders now that Homelander's overwhelming presence was gone. "Beats me. Let's just hope it stays this way for a while."

He would make a quick getaway, his firm, aggravated steps audible before the man itself came into one's field of view. Anyone who had the misfortune to run into him in this state lowered their heads in hope they wouldn't meet an untimely end just for him to let off some steam.

There's a stench of fear lingering in the air, in every corner of this damn building.

"Vermin" he clenched his jaw as he turned around the corner, slamming the door to his penthouse with so much force that the frame breaks. "Every single one of them."

Ordinary humans were so pathetic-fucking weak, and yet they dictated simply everything. It shouldn't be this way! They should worship the ground he walked - or floated - on, build monuments in his name, but instead what?!

The masses idolized him of course, but that fact came at the extend of his own dignity. He had to perform in order to put on this perfect disguise, always smile and say his lines like a damn puppet...with Vought pulling all of the strings.

Was that really the only thing he was good for? So many abilities, all this potential and yet there he was, doing nothing substantial.

Right now he had everything: The greatest power in the world, wealth he could never fully spent even if he tried and influence beyond one's imagination - and yet he felt as empty as never before.

What a fucking joke.

Employees at Vought knew about his true wicked nature, so he had to rely on fear to control them. It was all he ever knew and felt comfortable with, after all...

...until you came along and willingly chose him. You had peeked into a part of himself he swore to never let anyone too close to - and embraced it. Saw him at his lowest, hell, even got hurt in the process and chose to stay at his side nevertheless.

Even though you missed the whole picture among fragments of himself, he was sure you'd be the only one worthy to know his story.

What he had with you may have been make-believe, but still way realer than anything about his corrupted existence.

Was his heart really nothing but a bottomless pit that could never stop aching?

Homelander's suit had always been like a metaphorical armor - functioning against inconsensual touches of fans as well as sort of a disguise, so people would always only see the hero and never the broken shell of a man beneath it.

But now it felt as if the fabric was burning into his skin, eating away what's left of him. Feeling as if suffocating, he curses beneath heavy breaths as he tossed it away.

It wasn't even the same suit you had repaired for him back then - and right now he painfully regretted having Ashley get rid of it.

There was still the oversized shirt he had worn when he left you, though your scent was only faintly lingering now, even to his keen nose. Well hidden under his pillow to lull him to sleep, he now puts it on as he feverishly tried to imagine the sensation of your warm embrace encoating him like a safety west.

That night, he was woken by an eerie realistic dream. No nightmare for a change, no - and yet it was leaving him just as exasperated.

A memory, about that one time you had convinced him to travel to that small village near your ecological research station. Apparently a bunch of savages were holding a festival to celebrate the returning of daylight, and opposite to his expectations it was actually quite enjoyable - mostly thanks to your presence, of course.

He could still hear echoes of your laughter spinning in his head, goosebumps rising where you had touched him as you danced in the cold streets. Snowflakes were entangled in your hair, making it shimmer ever so slightly as you took his hands, trying to steady yourself on the ice. Your breath was visible as white mist, holding onto him for dear life.

Just when he had mustered up the courage to bend down to your height, maybe steal a kiss or two, even if it was only at the crown of your head, both of you lost balance and fell right on your asses.

Homelander heard his own boisterous laughter mixing with yours, remembered how absolutely flabbergasted he was when you suddenly tackle hugged and started kissing him senseless.

"Shit. Shit!"

"Yeah, sure is." Oh for fuck's sake, not this again. But the voices kept returning, it's not like he had a say in the matter of his own mental illness. He never really has a say in anything, not even regarding his own life. "What are you so upset about?"

Well, it's not like he'd be able to fall back asleep anytime soon either way, so he followed the sound of his own voice back to the great mirror across the room.

"You're new" he states the obvious, seeing a reflection that doesn't resemble his current state at all. The man in the mirror was unkempt, with a scruffy beard and greyed strands standing out from his blonde scalp...

...and yet he seemed as happy as Homelander could only hope to one day comprehend. "Did we really look this shitty back in the Arctic?"

"Well, there's not exactly a stylist in the middle of nowhere" his counterpart shrugged, smugly adding "And Y/N liked it."

Homelander exaggeratedly rolled with his eyes, but the verbal jab had hit his weak spot. "You're just a farce, a cheap excuse of me, the real deal!"

"Nope" his amnesic alter ego scoffed at the insult, his smile never faltering. "I'm everything you always wished to be! What you could still become" he adds, his remark yet another fatal blow to Homelander's fragile ego. "You've got all the means to find her, so what's holding you back?"

"Because this is beneath me!" he roars so loudly, it's good that his apartment is big enough that no one could eavesdrop. "Why the fuck would I miss playing house with some nobody?"

However John is not accepting this bullshit for an answer, waving a scolding index finger. "Nah-ah, the real reason. Say. It."

With more force than necessary, Homelander scatters the mirror - would be too easy if that'd make them shut up, though.

"You know we don't just disappear." Several copies of himself are now talking, a medley of misery from each shard, reopening gaping wounds that never had the chance to heal.

"You think Y/N was just nice out of basic human decency. You think the kiss and everything else only happened because of the isolation before you came to that doorstep."

"You're afraid you won't live up to the John Y/N met. The ideal version of yourself that doesn't exist."

"That Y/N will find out what a freak you really are and runs away scared and disgusted, just like they all do eventually."

"You'll get bored of this at some point. Why bother?"

"Y/N will break under the pressure of this burden. It'd be selfish to do this. You can't expect this from anybody."

"Maybe you're even afraid of her coming in harms way because you know exactly what you're capable of."

"You already managed to destroy her life even without being your true self, just imagine what could happen. Stay away, at least for Y/N's sake."

"This whole farce just weakened you, and will continue to do so. We should just get rid of-"

"Shut. Up!" Homelander warns the last one, menacingly calm. "Don't you dare implying I could ever hurt Y/N. I-I'd rather fly myself into the fucking sun!"

"Oh boo-hoo. Someone gives you breadcrumbs of affection and you wag your tail like a dog in heat" the more depraved materialization of himself mocks, "Fucking pathetic, as always. Did you forget that people only exist for our fickle amusement?!"

"Don't listen to them, John." The only shard still attached to the wall was what he'd like to believe is his good aspects. "Listen to me: This is the one and only chance to get what you've always craved for - a real, loving home. Try it, at least. Remember Y/N's words - you deserve happiness."

There was no use in trying to catch up with sleeping. In fact it took all of his patience to wait the few hours until sunrise to wait for this confrontation...

...not with you, however.

Of course Madelyn would come to work this early. Typical. But Homelander was already expecting her - not waiting in front of her door to avoid seeming desperate, but a safe distance away, his glare seeping through the walls.

As soon as she appeared at the tower, he let himself into her office like so many times before. She was pouring herself a cup of coffee, and at the sight of him adds some liquor to it. Hard to believe she was bothered because of something important. "This early? Seriously?"

"You know what's funny?" he didn't really acknowledge her question as he jumped onto the sofa, picking up a decorative snow globe to fidget with. "I thought the enemy had somehow deactivated my transponder...but a quick visit at the tech department later, I found out it worked just fine. This whole time."

Madelyn quirked a brow at the hero, tentatively leaning forwards over her desk. Showing some cleavage usually never failed to soothe his nerves, but not today. "If you want to imply that we're the ones behind all this, I can assure you tha-"

"No" he raised a warning hand, softly shaking the snow globe before putting it down again. "Nonono, I'm sure if you had the means to threaten me, you would've long since done it by now."

Homelander then leapt to his feet, strolling through the room filled with countless photographs of himself - but right now, it was like looking at a person he doesn't recognize anymore.

"Here's another interesting thing I found out: Not even a full week after my disappearance, you made the pathetic attempt to replace me with Black Noir. It wasn't until the public and your sponsors demanded answers to my whereabouts that you gave in and started actively searching for me. Isn't that correct?"

Checkpoint.

"Hey, I've been gone so long, I need to make up for all our missed conversations, don't I?" he huffed bitterly, viewing a snapshot of him and her without being able to feel anything but nauseous. "I've lived among...inferior people for the first time in my life. No fans, no people of Vought, just...Y/N and I. Living the life I only ever knew from textbooks or scripts. And it made me have a realization, wanna hear?"

The vice president closed her eyes in negative anticipation, taking in a deep breath but not being able to bring out a single word before being interjected again. Homelander knew her ways of manipulation and the effect he could have on her if he let her talk too much.

This time it was his turn, and he'd be heard.

The woman in front of of him crosses her arms in defense, giving an approving hum as she knew denying him was never an option.

"Let me tell you my theory first, you're gonna love this: So a boy of sixteen years is finally released from the laboratory he was raised in. Despite all the horrible things he had to endure there, he wanted to use his powers for good, so no one has to suffer like he did. He knows nothing about the real world, let alone care about profit or any of that bullshit. And then he meets this aspiring woman who sees her chance to be influental through him. Can you follow me until now?"

She nods and nothing more, her expression unreadable. "Good, very good. So the boy is now kept around the most rotten, selfish and greedy people on the planet. He was never inheritly evil, he simply adapted to his environment, as clueless as he was thinking this is how the world operates. And at the time any of you realized you had created a monster it was too late. You regretted it - but not out of moral concerns, no. Simply because you knew you couldn't possibly control him forever."

The silence was so loud that it was deafening, automatically answering everything.

"Even if that person was your most valuable asset, your figurehead, you'd be damned if you didn't use the lucky coincidence of him disappearing, no questions asked. Right? Right?!"

Madelyn Stillwell was a lot, but not a liar - at least not in the easy definition. She knew how to twist words, to withheld information just enough to get through with whatever she wanted. But she'd never lie so openly, so blatantly. Especially if it served no purpose, like right now that there was no use anyway. "We'd be damned if we didn't."

"So then why do you keep acting like any of this is right?" He looks deep into her, quite literally for his abilities wouldn't tolerate deceit. "Look, we've located you and the dot was moving. We knew you were alive. I do care about you, Jo-"

"Don't call me by that name. You don't deserve it." His jaw tightens into an almost-snarl, slapping Stillwell's hand away at her disgusting attempt to distract him through seduction. "Don't you dare touching me, and don't fucking lie to me again! Ive been lied to all my life...I'm so, so sick of this shit!"

Homelander's eyes turned from cold coal into glistening embers, threatening to destroy everything in their path shall the answer not be to his satisfaction. "Say. It!" he orders, his hands slamming on the table punctuating every word.

"Goddamnit, I'm afraid of you!"

"...what?" His voice was barely audible, laced with a hurt that surprised him - since deep down he knew the truth for a long time already.

"I'm afraid of you" she repeats, voice shaky at first but then practically yelling as if she knew it could be her last words. "I am fucking afraid of you, John! We all are! Everyone was relieved when you were finally gone, because no money is worth being subjected to you!"

"You- Vought...destroyed me for fucking nothing" he practically whines, his face running through various expressions at once as the last remains of his sanity crumbled. "I was robbed of any chance at normalcry and then tossed away like a broken weapon, and you seriously expected me to not return for a vengeance?!"

Countless possibilities rushed through his brain, one atrocious act more vile than the other - about how he could make the responsible pay the price for their wrongdoings, with Madelyn being the first one...

...but all his fury vanished when for the fraction of a second, his mind wandered back to you, who was still out there somewhere.

Maybe it was not too late for him after all.

All his life Homelander was comfortable trapping himself in a cage that was never locked, fearing whatever awaited outside could be even worse - but you, without even trying, had given him the hope to set himself free.

"Thanks for finally being honest with me." John shakes his head as if to cast all his violent impulses off, musing "I allowed you to use me because I never knew anything else...but that stops right now."

He breaks one of the windows with ease, grossed out by past memories when she dares taking ahold of his wrist. "Wha- where do you think you're going?" She looks sickishly pale, dreading that this would be the day he would go on a murderous rampage all those decades of madness had inevitably caused.

"I'm the Homelander, and I can do whatever the fuck I want." He rose into the air, not biding her another last look. "If anyone of Vought even tries to come near me again, I swear to god I'll end every single one of you."

___

Being in the US for the first time since your childhood made you realize: Damn, you didn't miss this shit a bit. Nostalgia is a real phenomenom, as it seems.

And even in this small town your...is it right to call him 'ex'? Anyways, his face is plastered on every square centimeter you'd fix your eyes on. Posters, screens, even goddamn groceries!

Hard to heal from something you couldn't even label, especially when basically everything reminds you of the love your heart still holds for John - or rather an illusion of a man that never actually existed.

You currently sat in front of your laptop, several tabs opened that made you feel pathetically nosy - but hey, there was hope that harvesting information about the real Homelander would help you overcome those silly, irrational emotions.

Then it should be good for you that everything you found out about him was freaking disappointing.

Vought...you were sure you had heard that name before. Typical monopolist corporate with a finger in every pie, unethical practices and too much influence on politics. It was as obvious as it was enraging, and yet no one cared enough to act against them - not that you were any better. To their defense, supes can be pretty scary so you get the sentiment of not wanting any beef with their bosses...especially after seeing John go apeshit in the past.

But as they all did, Vought still cared about their public image, and so they did a lot of charity to appear ethical. Not that it actually helped to cover any of their crimes up - this was more like an unofficial etiquette, a rule to behave like they're actually the good guys.

A few years ago you had applied for sponsoring your cause, and of course they denied the request. Vought couldn't give two shits about the environment, and if you didn't know any better they'd even go so far as destroying it themselves if the cause - profit, in this case - justifies the means.

Interesting enough, shortly after your return to society an official letter of the company magically appeared at your new address: A pledge of secrecy in return for money, summed up.

No thank you, metaphorically selling your soul to the devil wasn't your kind of thing.

A walking incarnate product, you thought as you closed the interview. No civil life, always performing. And that fabricated all-american backstory...ugh.

And about Homelander...

All videos you sporadically saw of him were kind of unsettling. His eyes were just as empty as his words, movements robotic and fake as if he had only learned to mimick normal behavior. Seeing him like this made you wonder if he even had a soul, or if Vought had sucked all humanity out of him decades ago.

How comes no one seems to notice...or do people simply don't want to acknowledge the truth about their heroes and the ones that lead them?

You sound like a dang conspiracy-theorist for someone that just got dumped by a supe in the most humiliating way possible. It's possibly just a coping mechanism to cover up the hurt caused by the indeniable truth: Someone like you was inadequate to the infamous Homelander in every single way.

The display of your old laptop almost snapped as you closed it in sadness and frustration, turning your attention to building that stubborn IKEA shelf again.

Wanting to regain an objective view on the situation at hand, you remind yourself that the two of you led fundamentally different lives that could never work out together. You hate modern civilization, you hate being the center of attention, you hate events and big cities...

...but you don't hate him. And maybe with him, for him, you could have endured.

Funny, isn't it? You've been alone ever since the death of your parents, keeping to yourself even while pursuing your education. Never able to form any close bonds, even if you tried. Ironically, you were exactly as lonely as him - not made to be among others just the same.

"Still a horrible taste for furniture, I see."

That familiar voice made your blood run cold, collecting yourself impossible as the blue-reddish silhouette belonging to it came into your field of view just seconds after.

All questions and accusations died on your tongue when you reminded yourself just who was standing in your living room right now. Homelander could find you no matter where, and literally tear away the roof of your house without anyone ever daring to object.

"You look great" he cannot help but notice, but you grimace as you see your own reflection in the window: grey sweatpants, a messy bun and an old T-shirt of his. Sure.

"Well, in case you forgot: I'm still in tremendous debt, so I'm not exactly drowning in luxury" you scoff, face fixated on the clash of wood and screws. John narrows his eyes in confusion, stating "Vought was supposed to recompensate you."

"Financially? Well, not without a catch." For a moment he thinks loudly, talking about 'ripping Ashley's head off', which made you finally turn to look at him. "Metaphorically" he added, raising his hands in a placating manner.

"Oh, yeah...Ashley." The name only forcedly escaped your throat, which did not go unnoticed by Homelander. "Your girlfriend and I had a long talk back then. She explained your outburst was caused by PTSD. So no worries."

"My wha-" John made a dramatical gagging sound, crinkling his nose at you. His fists were on his hips, expression grim ike always when he was about to rant about something, making your lips twitch as you resisted smiling at the adorable sight. "Gosh, no. Ew. She's everything but that."

You had almost forgotten how cute he could be when one pushed his buttons - good to know it's still this way. "So, what brings you here all of a sudden?"

"Well, I-" He opened and closed his mouth several times in an attempt to come up with something, anything, but it sure took him a while. "Y-You didn't publish anything."

"I searched for your article. You've been talking about it nonstop back then." He dared stepping closer, making himself as small as humanly possible. "Actually I hoped to be mentioned and showered in praise as your assistant."

"Huh?" You narrow your eyes at him, and his tension is barely veiled. Great, just great Mr. Charming.

Okay, that one made you laugh. You had almost forgotten how refreshing those little exchanges were. "Well well well...I had to start from scratch after a certain someone wrecked my laboratory." He nervously rubs the back of his head, unintelligibly chuckling "Right...sorry about that."

"It's alright" you dismiss the guilt in his voice with a cheerful remark, "I'm teaching at a university temporarily, until I got enough money for another try." He knew. All this time he never lost track of you, craving to walk this path together with you but too cowardly to ask for your permission to join. "Seriously, Homel-"

"John" he corrects you, showing no ill intend. "Please, just call me John." Oh, how he missed the way his name sounded in your voice: Neither shallow, nor demanding or afraid - just John, no strings attached.

"Oh. Oh. Okay, John. But..." you intertwine your fingers to keep them from trembling, biting the inside of your cheek. "Really, you don't owe me anythi-"

"I owe you every-fucking-thing!" John blurts out, his insistance showing as he softly grabbed your shoulders. "Y/N, you helped me despite gaining nothing from it. If that isn't heroic, I don't know what is. I mean, without you I'd be a fucking icicle right now."

How often did he say this corny trademark quote 'You are the real hero(es)' before? This is the first time that it felt genuine - after all, you had saved him in more ways than just one.

You cackle shortly, more out of attachment to the man than his joke actually being funny. But the longer his hands remained stubbornly on your body, the harder it became to act like acquaintances merely sharing a crazy story that's long in the past.

"But you can't give me what I want..." You don't know what moved you to speak from the heart, but after all that had happened you deserved to drown in some self-pity. John's forehead wrinkled in an attempt to make sense out of you, insisting "C'mon, let me indulge you a little. For old time's sake."

Nothing to lose after already having everything taken away from you, right?

"It's my fault, honestly" you try to keep it together, but you knew there was no hiding your choked sobs from his senses either way. "I fell for something fake. And I know, I know it's stupid, but-"

"Not everything was fake" you rudely got interrupted again, but the content of his rambling made you forgive him easily. "My feelings weren't."

It took you a while to have John's confession actually dawn on you, releasing a breath you didn't even realize you were holding. "Your...what?"

"Took me long enough to realize" he snickered as he pulled you into a long-due hug, pressing a wet kiss into your hair out of habit. "I've tried to continue my old life, I really did. But fuck it...this whole time all my thoughts revolved around you."

He could barely hear over the sound of his own fastened heartbeat, but clearly your pulse was racing as well - not out of fear, that much he could tell.

And yet as much as the shared sentiment partially relieved you, there was something else laying heavy on your chest.

"I- don't know what to say, John" you try to wring yourself out of his embrace, but he stubbornly narrows the space between you, making you gasp in surprise.

Homelander was not someone taking no for an answer, used to always get what he wants no matter how. And people not acting like he anticipated was like hitting the bulls eye of his fragile psyche.

He'd be damned to just accept his loss after everything he put at risk.

"Hey big guy...look at me."

Your voice alone made him snap out of a downward-spiral that usually was an unstoppable force, always ending in tragedy. As he met your eyes he detected the plea in them, a vulnerability he had yet to allow himself.

"I have very strong feelings for you, John." Good. Then where's the fucking problem?! "But I've spent a lot of time thinking about" you pause, awkwardly gesticulating between the two of you. "This. You and me, us...John, you were talking in your sleep a lot back then. If you were not busy screaming your lungs out, I mean. About burning, drowning or being cut up alive..."

Your eyes begin to water at the memory, clawing a fistful of blue fabric from his suit. "Just...tell me the truth, and not that fancy propaganda bullshit. If we continue this, then I want to know you inside and out."

"What if..." John's voice cracks, only notices he'd been crying as he feelsbthe salt of his own tears prickle on his lips. He fucking hates this weakness, this sickness of his, especially if he cannot hide behind a facade. "What if the truth if so much more horribe than you could ever imagine?" His hands squeeze yours now, as if he fears you'd disappear if he let go off of this emotional anchor you had become.

John was about to pull back, bracing himself for the rejection. His only solace was the thought that it's probably the best for you.

If you'd know this relationship would eventually turn you into the moral support of a malignant narcissist and subsequent homicidal maniac, there was no way on earth you'd still voluntarily be a part of his life.

"Then I guess we've got to figure it out."

Whatever the extend of his pain, you are aware it's going to put a huge toll onto you as well. He most likely can't live normally, let alone love.

You cradle his face in your hands and he subconsciously leans into the touch, whining at his own neediness. "I can't say that my love is going to erase your hurt, but I can promise to be at your side through all of it."

"That's about the best fucking thing someone has ever said to me" he half-cries, half-laughs when you finally pull the man on his collar down to your height, sealing your promise with a kiss.

"And now get out of that costume" you tease, pinching one of the pads on his chest. "Looks even more hilarious now that I know you're not all that muscular underneath."

"Well, to my defense, other clothes aren't really fit for breaking sonic speed." He twirls you around skillfully, embracing you from behind as close as humanly possible. "And besides, that makes me the perfect candidate for a long-distance relationship, don't you think? You stay in this boring chaff, hell even the end of the world if you want to, and I could still visit you everyday. Or I'll just kidnap you to wherever you want."

Seems like he had already planned it all out. Not the most concerning action of his, though. Almost sweet, if you want to see it this way.

Won't be the last time, surely.

"But what do you want?" The question was so simple, so downright basic that not knowing the answer left him empty inside. His wishes? Does he even have any dreams or aspirations?

There was never a 'John' - the boy with this name died in that lab so Homelander could rise. For so long he had existed for the sole purpose of others that he completely forgot he was in charge of his own fate...

He leans to kiss you again, more tender this time as he savours the way your tears mix with his."I want to enjoy this until I can give you a proper answer one day."

...until you opened his eyes, through sheer kindness and willpower.

Maybe humans aren't so weak after all.

Finally, he smiles. It's the kind of smile that reaches up to his ears, making his whole face crinkly. One that matches with his eyes, genuine and radiant just like back when you first met.

"There you are...welcome home, John."

[imrllytootiredforthis]

can you write about afab beomgyu who’s a squirter? thank u!

Eating out Beomgyu~

summary: eating beomgyu's pussy basically

word count: too lazy to check, i'll fill in later

warnings: dom reader, sub gyu, pussy-eating, squirting, fingering, maybe more

a/n: it's the middle of the night, so ignore spelling mistakes or anything that sounds a bit funny. it didn't mean for this to be this long but are you complaining?

just thinking abt afab gyu in general

who sits still with legs open like a good girl. with his hand covering his mouth, trying not to be loud as his pretty thighs quake around your head.

all pretty in his thigh-highs and skirt, pulled up around his hips to present himself to you.

he's shaking like a leaf, unable to contain himself...and you haven't even touched him yet.

all you've done is kiss over his inner thighs, his skin covered in marks that you're sure to make last for awhile, already turning to a pretty pinkish purple hue.

but the way your breath ghosts over him, making him clench desperately around nothing-he wants you inside of him so bad, he needs it.

and you know it.

and you continue to only tease him, purposely blowing over his clit, tongue reaching out and just brushing over him.

"please-!" he gasps, his free hand clenching in your hair. "please, stop teasing!"

"hmm," he's shaking. so cute~ "dunno gyu..." he's so wet it's dripping onto the sheets, drooling down his folds, enticing you to lean in and just give him what he wants. "do you think you deserve it?"

but he still has to act tough even when he writhes against you, body moving subconsciously, spreading his feet apart to make more room for you. “just shut up, shut up, just-”

not the response you want. he knows this.

your lips press right beside where he needs you. so close, so fucking close he thinks he could lose his mind. "please! i'll be good-i'll be so fucking good, just touch me-lick me! i don't care, i just wan' you!"

fuck, he looks so pretty begging.

you've never been able to resist him for long...

"language," you warn, gathering the saliva on your tongue before slowly letting it drip from your mouth, coating his pussy. "be a good girl and you'll get what you want~"

he can never help the way the praise goes to his head. the way he whines, hole fluttering. "ah! wai-" his voice breaks as you stick your tongue out. such a perfect way to shut off his brain.

"so sensitive," you tsk, his legs twitching lightly as his eyes roll back. licking a long stripe up his cunt, moaning at his taste, at his slick covering your tongue. "don't tell me you're gonna cum already. haven't even gone inside you yet, gonna ruin all the fun gyu..." you pout.

but he is. he's so close already. from your teasing and your biting and just watching you sit between his legs so perfectly composed while he falls apart.

"'m not gonna-" famous last words. you drag your tongue up to his clit, making sure he feels every second of what you're doing with a swirl of your tongue around it. actions that render him speechless and dumb.

"huh? what'd you say pretty?" your name rings out loud and clear in a pathetic, strained tone when your lips enclose around the little bud, sucking on it softly until his legs clamp down around your head.

you press them open just as quick, hands pushing them down against the sheets on either side. "you gonna cum on my tongue, make a mess all over my face and the sheets?"

you ask it like it's really his decision. like he really has a choice. like he isn't nodding furiously, wanting nothing more than to be dumbed down to a babbling slut with your tongue and fingers. you've spent too many hours like this for him to believe anything otherwise.

hours spent between his legs, tongue buried deep inside his wet heat, ripping orgasm after orgasm from his spent body until his voice is hoarse and his poor clit is swollen and throbbing.

hours spent completely at your mercy, just the way he likes it. with his hand in your hair, trying to pull you away as you overstimulate him over and over again, eyes pricking with tears as he begs for you to stop.

but he doesn't want you to stop. he never really wants for you to stop. and you know him well enough to know that.

you hum, "greedy slut." he really can't help how his back arches up off the bed when you press inside of him. it's just so fucking good, it's so much, so overwhelming.

"yes! p-please, yes!" he sobs, walls clamping so hard around you it's hard to even move.

he can't handle this.

"fuck!" forgetting all his manners, his leg hooking over your shoulder in an attempt to pull you in closer.

he needs this.

"more~" greedy and selfish and too cute, grinding down against your face, mouth open, tongue sticking out as he tries to fuck himself on your tongue.

"i'm close-'m so close!" with his nails dragging over your shoulder hard enough to break the skin. your moans are muffled in his pussy, the vibrations sending waves of heat, licking every part of his body, so very close to the edge.

"lemme cum on your face!"

who are you to deny your pretty little slut? looking so properly fucked up nodding hastily, blush spreading across his cheeks, hips unable to stay in place. whines and moans filling the room, free hand groping for a pillow to cover his face to find none-hidden by your's truly

how could you let such pretty noises be put to waste.

"i'll be good, i'll be so good! i promise, just lemme cum, lemme-"

all it really takes is the look in your eye: mean and dark, a warning that he has to choose whether to heed or ignore. well, and your fingers, replacing your tongue so deep inside him he sees stars swimming in his vision. licking at his clit in lazy little circles, looking him right in the eye.

before he can't hold it in anymore, desperately humping your fingers as he searches for release. with every breath he takes, letting out whiny "please"'s and 'need it!'.

he's gonna regret it but it doesn't matter. not now. maybe tomorrow when he feels so raw and sore he'll have to call in sick but not now with your fingers pressing against that one spot inside of him and your mouth enveloping his clit in it's warmth, sucking and sucking until he feels he's going mad.

he's your good girl~

thighs clench around your head as his muscles tense up, his cunt clamping down on your fingers like he wants to keep you inside of him forever. he's always been loud when he cums and now is no exception as he throws his head back with a scream, cumming on your fingers and tongue.

and to no surprise, you feel a gush of liquid spill down your hand, arousal coating your fingers and the sheets in a sticky mess. his whole body shudders with the final release, spasming and tightening around you one last time before relaxing.

you leave a soft, almost sweet kiss on his sensitive clit. so out of character for your next words.

"did i tell you that you could cum gyu?"

--

a/n: i'll add my taglist tmrw, so if you're on my taglist and have read this, you're prolly gonna get tagged still

[reiding-writing]

Hi. I was just wondering if you would write a One shot about Spencer and a male reader as a married couple (they are gay, pretty obviously) with an adopted 4-year-old daughter (they adopted her as a baby). Just a domestic fluff One Shot, I mean. If you are going to accept this request, thank you.

early mornings [ s.r ]

Summary:

Spencer Reid has spent the last twelve years with the love of his life, 7 of those years married, and 4 with his beautiful daughter. Now it’s time for her first day of school; And Spencer is excited if not a little overwhelmed

WARNINGS: n/a

pairing: dad!husband!spencer x male!reader

genre: pure fluff

wc: 2.1k

masterlist!!

a/n: i feel like i’ve been uploading a lot recently

i am not a dude in any way shape or form so i hope this comes off alright 😭

thanks for the request <33

The jarring blare of Spencer’s alarm clock forced the two of you awake, and Spencer groaned softly into your neck, his arms tightening around your torso as a clear rebuttal to having to wake up.

It was pretty much the same every morning; Spencer having to get up early to go to the office, refusing to get up when his alarm tells him to, and instead leaving you to practically drag him out of bed under the threat of withholding your body heat for him to curl himself into every night. “Spence, baby, you gotta wake up,”

You weren’t complaining, you could spend, hours, days even, holding Spencer in your arms, his head resting soundly against your chest as you ran your fingers through his curls. But he had to get up. And not just because he had work today.

Spencer muffles a refusal against the dip of your neck, his head shaking as much as he is able through his drowsiness, and you swear you melt at the sight. Twelve years, and he still manages to turn you into a puddle of emotions just by existing.

“We’ve gotta get up, it’s Dee’s first day of school today remember?” You don’t have to say anything else before Spencer is ripping himself from your arms, and you can’t help the soft groan of dissatisfaction as the chilled air hits your body.

“Of course it’s her first day of school today-” Spencer mutters to himself as he clambers out of bed, running his hand through his flattened curls as he pulls his work clothes out of his wardrobe to get changed.

He’d been preparing for this day for weeks, but apparently the mixed power of drowsiness and the comfort of lying in your arms had rendered his mind completely blank.

“Hey, calm, what do we do when we’re feeling anxious?” Your arms snake around Spencer’s from behind, and you place a chaste kiss just in front of his ear.

“Breathe slowly…” Spencer closes his eyes, taking a deep breath in as he replies to you and exhaling through his nose as he relaxes slightly into your embrace.

“It’s only 7:00, we’ve got an hour yet before you need to leave for work and an hour before I’ve got to drop off Dee, we’ve got plenty of time.” Your words are soft, whispered against his ear as your hands trace small circles into his torso.

“Your right, i’m just overthinking, sorry,” Spencer rubs the palm of his hand down his face. He just wanted everything to go well. He really did.

Diana was his whole world. it’d taken so long for the two of you to find an adoption agency that accepted same-sex couples, and even longer to find a child ready to be adopted. He was sure that Diana was a miracle, a four-month-old baby anonymously left in a hospital and left under the care of the agency you were working with.

He remembers how he cried when he first saw her, how her weight felt in his arms when he held her for the first time. Diana was everything, and he wanted to make sure that her school experience was the complete opposite of his, the best that it possibly could be.

“You should wake her up,” You ghost a kiss against the nape of his neck. “I’ll get breakfast started,”

“Mmm, okay…” He mourns the loss of your body heat the minute you remove him from your arms, and you place one final kiss against the bridge of his nose before vacating to the kitchen.

Spencer edges Diana’s bedroom door open as carefully as he can, careful to spill as little light into the room as possible as he enters, kneeling down beside her bedside and taking a second to adore her sleeping face.

He brushes the wisps of hair that barely constitute a fringe from her forehead before planting a kiss on her hairline, causing her to stir awake almost immediately. “Daddy..?”

Her voice his barely audible, slurred from sleep and quiet as she fumbles to rub her hand over her eyes.

“Morning angel,” Spencer almost chuckles at the display, helping Diana sit as he tries in vain to do it herself, her arms not yet as awake as her brain. “Do you remember what today is?”

Diana responds to his question with a blank stare and a few blinks. Apparently her brain wasn’t very awake either.

“It’s your first day of school today,” Spencer tucks some of Diana’s hair behind her ear as he answers his own question, and Diana’s expression seems to brighten at the revelation.

For an almost 5 year old, Diana seemed to be way more excited to start school than most, unafraid of leaving her parents’ presence for the few hours to spend her time in a new environment with people her own age.

“Shall we pick something to wear?” Diana nods immediately at the question, scrambling out of her bed and running over to the mini wardrobe on the other side of the room, pulling open both of doors wide open.

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

“Well well, don’t you look fancy this morning,” You give Diana a faux bow as she runs into the kitchen with Spencer trailing behind her, fit in a white dress with a fluffy tulle skirt decorated with flowers. “Your majesty,”

Diana giggles at your display, taking advantage of your bent over position to grip her hands at the collar of your t-shirt with the insistence of you picking her up, which you gladly oblige to as you hoist her into your arms, leaning her against your left side. “Daddy helped me pick!”

You can practically feel the enthusiasm radiating off of her, aided by the smile painting her face. “Oh he did huh?”

You glance over at Spencer, who flashes the two of you an adoring smile as he leans against the door frame into the kitchen. “Well, your daddy’s got good taste,”

You give her a kiss on her nose before setting her back down on the floor, and she takes her freedom of movement as an invitation to take a seat on the pulled out chair at the kitchen table, kneeling on the pillow laid on top of the chair.

Spencer follows close behind, walking behind you to give you a kiss on your temple before also sitting down.

The second you place the plate in front of Diana she practically squeals in excitement. “Pancakes and strawberries?”

“It’s a special day, you should have a special breakfast,” You place a kiss to the crown of her head as you place a similar plate in front of Spencer and the seat space for yourself, not forgetting Spencer’s insanely sugary coffee nor your much more acceptable one as you finally take a seat yourself.

“Thanks papa!” She practically dives head first into her pancakes as she begins eating, and Spencer has to remind her to slow down as he puts a hand on her shoulder.

“Ah, careful, remember what happens when we eat too fast?” Diana has to take a few seconds to think before she pipes up, a beaming smile on her face. “Oh! Our heart can get sick!”

The two of you share a chuckle at her answer, something she’d learned after asking Spencer to tell her facts before she goes to sleep instead of a typical bed time story.

“That’s right angel, so you’ve gotta eat slowly okay?” She responds with an enthusiastic nod as she continues to excitedly eat her pancakes, albeit more slowly than before.

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

Once breakfast is finished, you send Diana on a mission to retrieve her backpack, and Spencer fills up her water bottle whilst you finish packing up her lunch box. “I can’t believe she’s going to school already,”

Spencer sounds genuinely flabbergasted at the idea, and you can’t help but laugh softly at his bewilderment. “Time flies,”

“You can say that again…” Spencer walks over to you from behind once the bottle is full, snaking his arms around you and placing the bottle on the table besides her now fully packed lunchbox. “It’s crazy,”

Spencer’s voice muffles against the nape of your neck. “It feels like yesterday that we got married, and now our daughter’s off to school,” He sighs against your neck, the warmth sending small tingles down your spine, and you swore you could hear his voice hitch with emotion.

“Hey,” You turn around, your back leaning against the kitchen counter as you take Spencer’s face in your hands, leaning it up to look at you. “Dee’s supposed to be the one crying about her first day of school, not you,” You chuckle softly, rubbing your thumbs over the apples of his cheeks.

“I know, I know, I just-” Spencer sighs softly, leaning the weight of his head into your hands. “I never thought i’d get to live a life like this, and sometimes it just all comes back to me you know?” His eyes glisten as they look into yours, surely glassed over with tears. “I’m so lucky to have the both of you…”

“Spence…” You sigh softly, your face softening at the authenticity of his words, matched in the pure gratitude of his expression.

“Sorry-” He pulls his head out of your hands, taking a deep breath and wiping the back of his hand over his eyes.

“Hey-” you cup his cheek in your hand once more, closing the space between you once more. “I love you, you know that right?”

Spencer breathes out a small laugh, looking into your eyes with a small nod. “Yeah, I love you too.. so much…”

You bridge the remaining distance with a kiss, one which Spencer readily accepts, and you can feel his smile against your mouth as he returns your affection.

“Ewwww,” Diana’s voice calls out from the kitchen door, an animated expression on her face. “Daddy and papa are kissing,”

“You can get in on some kisses too you menace,” You playfully chase Diana around the kitchen table as she laughs, running away from you with her rocket ship backpack planted securely on her shoulders, and once you close the gap you scoop her up into your arms, planting kisses all over her face whilst he tries to wriggle out of your grasp.

“Daddy help me!” Her pleas go unfounded, Spencer joining in on the smothering, leaving Diana out of breath from her giggling.

Diana remains securely in your arms as Spencer, packs her bag with her water and her lunch, zipping the bag closed with another kiss to the side of her face.

“Are you coming too daddy?” Diana’s eyes twinkle as she asks the question, as if silently pleading Spencer to join you in dropping her off for her first day.

“Of course I am angel,” He places another kiss to the tip of her nose that elicits another giggle from her mouth and an excited wave of her arms in celebration.

“Are you sure?” You give Spencer a knowing glance. His job was important, and whilst Diana didn’t quite know just how important, she’d had enough experience with him going on ‘holidays with work’ to not be too disappointed if he couldn’t make it.

“Of course I am,” Spencer tucks some of Diana’s hair behind her ear, her smile only amplifying as he double-confirms that he’s joining them. “It’s my angel’s first day of school, I wouldn’t miss it for the world,”

[penvisions]

garnish {chapter 9}

Pairing: Chef! Joel Miller x Bartender! Reader

Summary: Life is weird. Human connection is weird. But you finally are in a spot to listen to what Joel has to say, even if your mind is already made up.

Word Count: 5.4k

Warnings: canon typical language, restaurant lingo, talk of food, consumption of food, smoking, references of nicotine addiction, nicotine, cigarettes, drinking, references to alcoholism, insinuations of infidelity, complicated relationship dynamics, reader feels a lot of anxiety, sexual content, p in v smut, unprotected p in v, cream pie

A/N: this was a hard one to sit down and get done, i feel so removed from this story for some reason. it's turned into something i didn't expect and i love it, do not get me wrong. but it's just a hard dynamic for me write about at the moment. hope y'all like this one, only one more to go!

ao3 link || series masterlist || main masterlist || ko-fi

Your boxes were in the living room, bathed in easy early morning light when you turned the handle of the front door. Joel was a still figure on the couch, head hanging between his legs and cradled in his hands. Hair mused and frizzy from the endless brushing of his fingers through the thick locks.

He must’ve dosed off, you thought, as you quietly closed the door behind you. But when you turned back around, he was standing next to the boxes with a haggard look about him. Clothes disheveled and showing the wrinkles of his endless pacing and fidgeting throughout the night. You jumped, not having heard him move up from his spot and closer to you.

“Figured we could unpack today…if that’s somethin’ you would want.” His words were clear, but you could sense the hesitancy behind them, the uncertainty of where you were at and what you wanted obvious in his every muscle.

“I want to know why.” You regretted the crack rough quality of your voice, of the faint lingering haze of nicotine from the cigarette you had smoked on the porch before building up the courage to cross the threshold. Distant worry that you would find the woman from the night before asleep on the couch or the guest room downstairs. That they would be enjoying a nuclear family breakfast, Sarah having been called to come down and help Joel deal with what was an obvious issue with the girl’s mother. It was foolish to spend energy on the what if’s but that’s what your brain did, every second of every day since you were a small girl yourself. Endlessly tiring and anxiety inducing.

But this was a situation where you believe it was warranted. Any relationship has a person whose name could be brought up and instantly cause problems. And not for lack of understanding and an abundance of care for each other. But society has but such a strict label on what is appropriate behavior for friends and what isn’t. The same for people in a romantic relationship. It was all bullshit, but anything other was looked at with discontent and judgement born of nothing but devotion to those strict labels that had no impact on genuine human connection.

This was a situation you had never anticipating being smack dab in the middle of, between two distant co-parents to a biological daughter only a few years younger than you and an adopted one even younger than that. The what ifs were endless.

They rendered you silent for a moment, moving through the space toward the kitchen. He followed you, his own thoughts scrambled as he tried to find an honest answer to give you. You could feel his eyes follow you as you moved about the kitchen, knowing the space as well as your own. Coffee. You were making coffee. A bit of cinnamon on the grounds before turning the pot on and turning to face the man once again, arms coming up as a makeshift shield around your ribcage.

Joel heaved a sigh, hands clenching at his sides in that nervous tick of his. Exhausted eyes with dark color encircling them watched you as you crossed your arms around yourself to try and make yourself small. A thing he’s seen you do a lot when overwhelmed.

“I didn’t do anythin’ after that morning in your kitchen. I swear to you.”

“But the day before?”

“…yes.” His head hung slightly, like the weight of his answer was too heavy for him to bear. Too much of a give away of how he thought of himself, how he felt about the decisions he’s made in his life.

“Joel, that’s….that’s really confusing.” You admitted quietly, knees weakening as the image of him with someone else flashed in your mind. The thought of him with someone he had a connection with, a history with. A child with, grew up with, the same age as him. Close. Important. A part of his life for most of his life.

“I know, this whole damn thing is confusing. I didn’t- I never thought about it past the instances of what would happen. Didn’t dwell on it.” He sighed, shuffling closer and reaching out a hand to you in a silent request. You gently shook your head, not wanting to be touched right now. Unable to resist the warmth and strength of his hands coming around you and holding you tight. One breath against his chest would be your downfall. You needed to stay strong, for now. For as long as you could.

“I shouldn’t have let it go on for as long as it did. Every time she had a bad date or something ended or she was overwhelmed with trying to reconnect with Sarah…it would just happen. And I know that’s not a good enough reason to keep it from everyone. Hell, I don’t even think Tommy knows. But, sweet girl, please, it’s done. I-I-I had her admitted to an in-patient facility to help her with everything she’s struggling with, she wanted to go. The alcohol, the smoking, those habits I picked up from her, but they have such a stronger hold on her than they ever did on me. She’s going to get better with the understanding that I have love for her, for all that she’s been to me. But also that we are no longer going to engage in that way, that she is someone who is family and boundaries were made. I told her about you, really told her about you.”

His heart was bleeding and bare, offered to you in a way you weren’t sure you could handle.

Turning from him, you poured two cups of coffee and took them over to the table, taking a seat before your knees did betray you and no longer support your weight. He followed, leaving space between you lest he spook you. Lest you feel the need to run from him. You didn’t know if you would and could see the same worry in him.

“Okay,” Was all you could say, unsure of how to handle such transparency so early in the morning. It had been a long night, up late with Nia as she told you of all the good things going on in her life. Trying to be supportive despite showing up on her doorstep with dried tear tracks and a hollow feeling in your chest.

You hadn’t told her, had just spent time with her and watched lame movies that wouldn’t be able to pass today’s critics. Stupid, cliché comedies about sororities, about ice skaters who hated each other, about a damn dodge ball competition. Easy to consume media that helped to get you out of your head long enough to laugh at the ridiculous antics until you dozed off with each other on the couch surrounded by candy wrappers and bowls of snacks.

“I’m processing, it’s…it’s not okay, Joel, but I’m accepting what you’re telling me.”

“I was honest when I said I didn’t know how to-“

“Ding dong bitches,” Ellie’s voice sounded as she burst into the room with a duffle bag hanging from her hand and a crooked smile. She paused for the briefest of seconds at the scene of you and Joel on opposite sides of the dining table. A vulnerability shining in both your eyes. A heavy feel to the air of the kitchen surrounding you both. “…everything okay?”

“We’ve had a rough couple of days.” You felt your mood lighten the face of direct interaction with someone other than Joel. Ellie being such a comfort in all her genuine comfortability in herself, in the way Joel’s eyes were bright when he cracked jokes with her or groaned out at one of her less than clever puns. “But we’re okay, promise.”

“Okay, cool. I didn’t wanna be the jackass who waltzed in on like a really tense moment when I’m so excited to be home.” Her smile didn’t quite reach her eyes, knowing that that was exactly what she did and you were both faking it.

“You didn’t, baby girl, promise.” Joel reached out to squeeze your hands laid out on the table with his own but thought better of it at the last second before he stood up and moved around the kitchen.

“Dad, hey, so like the food on the plane sucked and-“

“Already got the stuff to make omelets, give me about fifteen minutes.”

“You rock! Gonna go shower and then we can head to the campus, yeah?”

“Austin?”

“Yeah!” Ellie turned to you, eyes taking in the way you were moving slowly and your eyes hadn’t quite yet cleared. “I’m applying for a graduate program for spring! I graduated earlier this year but being a teacher assistant isn’t exactly racking in the dough, ya know?”

“I warned you,” You joked with her as she came over to give you a side hug from her standing position, a delayed greeting you returned that had Joel turning quickly away from you both.

“Shuuuuut up, I know.” She grumbled. “We can’t all be really good at being fake nice to people and mix drinks, okay? Buuuuuut maybe I could-“

“No.”

“You don’t even know what I was gonna say, ya old dinosaur.”

“You-“ He pointed a mixing spoon in her direction, bowl of cracked eggs in front of him. “Are not coming to work in the restaurant. You know the rules, you live here and go to school full time and everything else is taken care of.”

“Yeah, yeah, you’re the best, okay? We get it.” She stuck her tongue out at him as she walked backwards out of the room, her steps heavy on the stairs as she made her way to her room.

“You really are, Joel.” You said more to the contents of your mug than the man himself. Eyes downcast and thoughts overwhelming.

All you could think about was Joel. All you could feel around you was Joel. He was enthralling, his body moving against you in deep, hard thrusts. His voice was in your ear, grunting your name every so often, his voice traveling down the length of your body and right to your core. He had moved to lay your back against the floor, one of his hands supporting himself by your head while the other was fastened right on your hip. You were trying not to make a keening noise as the head of his cock hit that glorious spot deep inside you over and over again, but you weren’t too confident when his eyes snapped up to try and capture yours where you had been staring at the way sweat was trickling down the column of his neck, pooling at the collar of his white undershirt.

“You’re takin’ me so well.” Your legs clenched tighter around him, your core squeezing his length sinfully tights, at his words. He stilled as he bottomed out on his next thrust, circling his hips to grind down on that spot inside you that had a coiling feeling building up and about to snap in your stomach. Your fingers dug into the curve of his shoulders, trying to urge him to move but when he didn’t, you moved your hips around him, his next words coming out in a low growl. “But you gotta reign in those sounds, darlin’.”

“I’m tryin’.” You panted, throwing your head back as you felt your stomach tighten, you felt so hot, so tense, you were so close. Your voice was wrecked, dripping honey sweet to his ears, the sounds you were making made him think how much more he could get out of you if there was no background worry of waking anyone or drawing attention. Taking his time and dragging out your orgasm as long as he felt fit, making you beg for it. He closed his eyes at the thought, beginning to thrust again. “But it just feels so good, you fill me so well.”

He could feel the tightening deep in his stomach, he wanted to make sure you came before he did. He wanted to take care of you, make sure you got what you needed, just as he felt so desperate himself to chase that high. He straightened up a bit, body no longer caging yours. He put both of his hands on your hips and patted them, the give of your skin so plush and soft under his fingers. “On your knees.”

The command had you positioned on your knees, resting most of your weight on your elbows in ten seconds flat. You looked back at him over your shoulder, seeing the way his eyes were roaming over the curves of your body, his hand lazily pumping himself as he watched you wiggle into place. He choked out a strangled noise when you bumped back into him, slick heat catching the head of his cock. With a growl, he lined up and slammed into you without preamble, hands coming to grip your hips for leverage. You jolted forward, his length hot and hard overwhelming in the best way possible.

He angled his hips, searching for that spot inside you again and he knew he found it when your breath began to hitch with every thrust. He pulled your hips back with every forward thrust, you were clenching so tight around him and he was so close. He just needed to feel you unravel around him. You felt him throb inside you, the feeling overwhelming. You began to push your hips back, chasing that tightening feeling. The long line of him inside you was hot, sending shockwaves through your entire body, you were sweating, pleasure making you clench your eyes shut.

His tip was merciless, hitting that spot just right inside you, you felt small waves of pleasure wash over you. Your legs began to shake, and you bit into your arm when the waves crested and overtook you. You could feel yourself clench around Joel, the man moaning low at the feeling of your orgasm overtaking you. He ground his hips flush against yours, helping to draw it out a little. You went slack below him, shaking legs barely able to hold your hips up for him, once, twice, three times more and he was quickly removing himself and waves of pleasure overtook him as well. You could feel the hot ribbons of his release on your backside, some of it dripping down your folds and earning Joel a filthy moan.

The sound of your panting filled the bedroom as you pushed yourself into a kneeling position, knees spread below you. Behind you, Joel watched the way the moonlight from the window illuminated your body in front of him, the sight of his cum trailing down your ass making him throb where he held himself in his hand. You turned to look at him over your shoulder, your face flushed and eyes blown.

You glanced down to where his cock was barely visible in his large hand, fist tight over his tip as a drop of cum dribbled out. It jerked in his hand, his eyes watching the way you watched him.

The sticky release between your legs catching the moonlight had his heart hammering harder in his chest, heaving as he tried to catch his breath. It had been ages since he had been able to get worked up so immediately afterwards but you were something else, something inspiring, something desirable. From the position you kept in front of him, the glazed over, cock drunk appearance of your eyes. The way your plush bottom lip was taken between your teeth, the ropes of his release painted across your body. For him, just for him, you whispered as you finally locked eyes with him.

And he was pressing back into you, semi hard at just the sight of you. The stuttered gasp that punched from your throat was all the appraisal he needed as he began to move against you again, wanting to paint you completely, your insides this time.

It was late, Joel snoring beside you as he laid out on his stomach with one arm crooked up and beneath his pillow, the other reached out to splay across your stomach. You had taken what he offered, breathing it in like a lifeline, revealing in the feelings that had flowed from him. His apologies, his transgressions, his regrets. All laid out bare for you to see, to pick up in your hands and smooth them over. To take for your own and to accept them. And you did.

He had been so tender as he washed you up in a hot bath, cradled you to his body in the tub of his en suite. Cried into your shoulder let you see him in all his remorse. And your heart ached for him, your soul, everything in you ached for him.

He would give you whatever you needed, he would try his best to help you. Without even a breath of an ask ghosting your lips. He was selfless in that way. Giving his all to those he deemed important and cared for. And that was too much to take from him. Even if he was willing.

But that didn’t change the way you felt.

The dark was a comfort, the sounds of an easy life you could have haunting you as you lay awake for what seemed like hours.

‘You drove all the way to your old apartment before you realized it wasn’t yours anymore. The keys having been handed over to the landlord earlier that month. Reliant on anything people in your close circle were willing to throw your way. Dependent on people once again and that was terrifying. You had sworn you would never be dependent on anyone again, give people the power over you in such a way.

Even if they didn’t have ill intentions.

Even if it was Joel.

The situation with your former professor, with his brother, with the asshole at work; all of them culminating and breaking you down.

Refusing to let anyone have that much of a sway over you, especially if it was a double edged sword.’

Your boxes were still in the living room the next morning, a mirror image of the day before. But in this moment, they didn’t bring you comfort. Seeing them there, waiting for large hands to help you unpack, they looked like a weight you didn’t have the strength to bare. You set the coffee mug in your hands atop the table,

“Was thinkin’ about unpacking this morning, head out and get some stuff you’ll need for around the house.” Joel sipped from his own mug. A bit of sugar added to it this morning, stolen from you before you poured the cream into the first cup. With a snort, you had just reached up to grab another. Breakfast hadn’t been started and with the way your stomach was twisting now, you knew that food wouldn’t even be a thought today. Joel had picked up on it and hadn’t offered to get something going.

“I, um, I don’t think that’s the best idea.” You spoke to the contents of your mug.

“No. No, you don’t get to do this, goin’ and makin’ decisions without hearing me out. Without giving me the chance to explain.” He was suddenly more awake than he had been just seconds ago.

“Joel, please, I’m….I’m so tired and I just…I don’t belong here, in this house where you raised your daughters, where you looked after your brother. Just another chapter of things you’ve given up for people who need lookin’ after. And I don’t wanna be the next one. Not with Ellie potentially moving back for school.”

“It’s not a burden, not if it’s you. It wasn’t with them, that’s…that’s what you do for family, for people you love.”

“You don’t love me.” Your breath carried the words, hands coming up to cover your face as you felt tears sting in the corners of your eyes. The sharp spear of an invisible blade sprouted in the middle of your chest. Once, twice, three times as you watched the emotions play out on his enamoring features.

“Darlin’, I do.” He was suddenly so close, his chair kicked out from the table, now kneeling in front of you with an open expression. His large, brown eyes catching the light and making your chest feel light when he took your hands from your face gently and held them over your knees. “But that’s why I’m gonna let you do what you think is best. I’ll help you find a place, help you with hours at work. Hell, I’d build you a whole damn house if that’s what you wanted, because I love you. I just want you to be happy, sweet girl. You deserve it so much and if I can help you get there: then I will do whatever it takes.”

You were silent, words stuck in your throat. The instinctive response on the tip of your tongue, the return of his sentiment. But it was blocked, drowned out by everything you had ever heard otherwise. Berated towards you and pressed into your very skin, something not so easily overcome if at all. The feeling of being a burden, of being too much, not enough thrummed inside your entire body, mind a cacophony of all the negative things you’ve ever been told.

“Loving someone doesn’t save them.”

He was quiet for a few breaths, watching you from his crouched position, face soft and concerned. His eyes lit up by more than just the morning light now. They were shining with unshed tears.

“Joel, please. Let me do this. Let me take back what I can from everything that’s happened. I-I don’t know if I’ll return to you but believe me when I say thank you.” Your nails dug into the backs of his hands as you gripped them tight, holding onto him with everything you had before you let him go.

The snick and hiss of a bottle being opened was loud in the empty townhome. The walls shining with the drying hues you had spent all day painting to cover the white applied by the rental company between tenants. Your stuff in the bed of three different trucks down on the curb in front of the building. You had found a place a few blocks from the campus, cheaper rent for those who qualified and had affiliation with the university. Joel had been insistent on getting Tommy to help load and move your things from his house.

They had just pulled up, after a quick text to let them know you were ready for them. Ready to fill this new space. Sweet Pea in the walk in closet upstairs with a temporary set up so she didn’t feel abandoned in the new space. It hurt to see that Joel had lined her kennel with a flannel shirt of his that smelled of you both, to help sooth the small cat during the transition from you old home, to his own, and now here.

You had cried over it for a long while before finally getting started on decorating your space with the colors you had picked out to make it feel more like a home.

Both men efficiently moved everything in and set it up where you had asked them too. Working well together and not letting you lift so much as a finger unless it was to point to where something should go.

The hammering of them putting up shelves and the bedframe for both the main bedroom and the guest room was a hum in the background as you busied yourself with making them a meal as a thank you.

The conversation was easy between all three of you. It had ended with Tommy leaving ahead of Joel, giving you both a little privacy. You weren’t sure what Joel had told him, but you kept your own answers with him vague. Not wanting to contradict anything his brother had already shared with him.

It had been slightly awkward, both of you shuffling your feet. You had asked for a hug, his arms coming around you completely for the last time. A kiss placed into your hair for the last time.

Over the next few months as the year began to transition through fall and into winter, you couldn’t bring yourself to keep in contact outside of work. Teaching and grading and working on your final program layout while still working at the restaurant in the evening was wearing you thin. Falling asleep at the desk in your downstairs office, the bed sitting up trying to cuddle with the cats, on the couch surrounded by piles of books and papers that needed to be attended to.

It had already been a month since you quietly requested to meet with Mary and turn in your resignation letter. She had listened to you, heard you out and agreed that should they need to hire anyone or replace anyone they could contact you first to see if you wanted the chance at hours. She had tried to get you to take a cut to them initially, but when you explained that you were going through some stuff that was taking a lot of emotional energy, she acquiesced.

Joel had called once and then left a voicemail marked only thirty seconds, but you hadn’t built up the courage to press play.

Crying yourself to sleep every night for a week afterwards, looking at his contact number made you feel pathetic, but you stood your ground. Stubborn and set on your decision, knowing his honeyed words would change your mind even if he didn’t ask you to come back.

One of the shining moments from the months that passed was that you did get the internship, had been working diligently through the end of the year to prove yourself. That’s what had been the tipping point for dropping the restaurant job that had been more than just a way to make fast, easy money. It was everything you had worked so hard for, and it was demanding. The other was that the board of your department wanted to soft launch a program you had created a mock up for in one of your summer semester courses. Needing to fill some time blocks left behind from your shitty professor. A blessing in disguise, your best friend had cheered out in a toast.

You were doing it, you were making a name for yourself in the academic world. But the cost was passing out in the late hours of the night only to be up and back at it in the early morning. No time for anything else, a distraction of the highest caliber. Joel a lingering thought every time you made dinner or smoked one too many cigarettes in a day. It was as comforting as it was devastating.

But the guilt of not having kept up contact weighed heavily on you, made it harder to send out a simple text or open his voicemail. So you didn’t and time continued to pass.

“Dad.” Ellie’s voice greeted him, still seated on the couch with a now warm beer in his hand, condensation trailing over his numb knuckles, the tv playing something he hadn’t been paying attention to. Her voice called to him again before he came back to himself. He leaned over to place the bottle atop the coffee table and rubbed his hands roughly over his face, trying to get some feeling back into it.

“Yeah, baby girl?”

“I, um, I was coming to check on you and to…ask if I could move back in?”

“What? Is everythin’ okay? I thought you liked your school set up out in Boston.” He was up on his tingling legs in a breath, worry seeping into his very soul at the hesitant expression on his little girl’s face as she stood at the end of the couch.

It was past the end of summer and well into the fall season, December just cresting over the horizon and settling in nicely. It was break for her, and she had shown up to help and keep him company since he had been working so much and things in the home fell by the wayside. He was sure there had been a conversation between his two girls about who would help him get back on track.

“Hey, woah, everything’s okay. It’s just that I was looking at programs to apply for since I’m done with my bachelor’s degree, and they didn’t have any that really jumped out at me. Figured I’d apply to the university here. There are a few classes I want to take and they have a really good applied arts program that they just announced.”

“There’s a new program, focused on how art influenced the cultural building blocks of different societies and how language developed from it. How art is the center of everything that we’ve become, made ourselves into and the juxtaposition of how it’s now viewed in a society that frowns upon the pursuit of it.”

“Why are you askin’ me, Ellie, you know you could’ve just started moving boxes in and I wouldn’t have batted an eye.” He thinks back to the two carry on suitcases she had brought along with her last week, and how she was talking of needing to find a new place since she needed to reapply for a new dorm or possibly find an apartment now that she was awaiting on news of her graduate application back there.

“Well, um, the program is headed by a…new professor.”

“What’re you talkin- oh.” Suddenly, the girls hands fidgeting and eyes shifting clicked everything into place. His heart soared with pride at the idea of you finally getting the position you had tirelessly worked for. All of the books and notes and papers, all of the hectic shifts, the shitty customers, the endless tickets springing forth from a printer with a chirp, every lost pen and empty bottle tossed into a recycling bin. You had been so distant at work leading up to your departure from the restaurant, eyes glazed over every time you weren’t interacting with anyone. Exhausted from everything you had been doing in the background, creating a foundation for yourself to prop up on.

You did it. You made it happen.

A wide, unfiltered smile broke out on his face, pulling his plush lips up in a moment of pure admiration and affection for you. Even if you weren’t here to see it, to know that he was in awe of you, your resilience, despite the way his messages remained unread and his calls unanswered.

“Yeah, dad, it’s her program. It starts in the spring and since I’m just a TA next semester, I figured I would give that up to someone intending to stay at that school.”

“She did it, she made it happen.” He gazed at the label on his abandoned beer bottle, something you picked out one of the first nights you both spent camped out on his couch with a movie, still getting to know each other outside of work. It was one of your favorites and he had been buying ever since, wanting whatever small part of you he could have now that you were gone and not responding to his attempts at conversation. Not that he had tried much after you left the restaurant, not wanting to make you feel like he was pushing himself on you.

“I have an interview with her today, she’s only taking like thirty students or something and there’s a lot of buzz around it. I just…wanted to check in and make sure it was like okay, that I do this.”

“Baby girl, of course it’s okay. If this is what you want to do, then you should go for it. I don’t think she would breech professionality because of who you are after everythin’ she faced the last year.”

“Yeah, she’s good like that.”

“Yeah, kid, she really is.” Joel smiled to himself, willing his heart to stop aching.  

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taglist: @jessthebaker @clevergirl74 @anavatazes @samiamproductions @76bookworm76 @tuquoquebrute

dividers by the lovely @saradika-graphics

[iamcautiouslyoptimistic]

Deja Vu ~ Russell Adler x Female Reader

{Author's Note} This was inspired by @alypink's recent Adler render where he's leaning against a muscle car AND HOO BOY that put tons of thoughts in my head about a younger Adler before he heads off to Vietnam. Reader in this story dated him before he went off to war and they got together again after the events of the Cold War game. I probably got some timeline stuff wrong but I did my research and tried to keep it consistent lol. A horrendous sinus infection has given me a short break from school as I start some medications to clear it up so that means more time for writing! Anyway, I hope y'all enjoy this! I've got plenty of ideas for a younger Adler x reader series so expect more in the future! And let me know if you'd like to be removed or added to the tag list🫶🏻 I don't know if I managed to include everyone that I wanted to so please let me know! AND YES I'm using a Robert Redford gif because they're basically the same person in my eyes LOL {Tag List} @littlemissclandestine @alypink @mctvsh @adlerboi @deadbranch @a-small-writer-in-a-big-world @ghostlythots @glitterypirateduck

Russell Adler x Female Reader

❌Content Warning: none❌

~ ~ ~

1965

“When are you leaving again?” 

Adler sends you a glance through dark shades as you pass him a bucket full of water. He takes it easily, hefting it with little issue while you had struggled to lift it only moments ago. 

“In a month,” he responds and splashes the bucket’s contents across the windshield of his car. “Higher ups are gettin’ worried about the increased communist presence in Vietnam so they’re sending in some troops. I’ll be going on behalf of the CIA to do some recon and see if we can figure out what’s happening over there.”

You knew that already. He’d told you half a dozen times before but he answered you anyway. He knew how worried you were about the threat of impending war, especially when he was being sent into the midst of it with little choice to refuse. 

All you can manage is a nod as you focus on sponging down the window opposite him. He notices your silence and rounds the car, drying his palms on his already damp tank top. 

“I’ll be fine, sweetheart,” he murmurs softly as he grasps your chin and guides your face to look at him. You blink back tears and he wipes away the few that manage to escape with gentle thumbs. 

“Just gotta make sure the Soviets aren’t meddling in things,” he continues. “It shouldn’t take long.”

You nod as he caresses the curves of your cheeks. “I just want you to be careful.” 

And come back alive, you think to yourself. Come back to me. 

He leans to press a kiss to the crown of your head. “I will. Promise.”

His lips meet yours in a tender kiss, one that makes you smile and clears the mist from your eyes. 

“Now, help me finish cleaning this thing before Sims gets here. He needs to see this baby in all her glory.”

You laugh, feeling your heart lighten as Russ turns up the radio. He bobs his head to The Beach Boys song flowing through the speakers and you promise yourself to commit this moment to memory. The glint of his shades in the sunlight, the shimmer of golden hair as he pushes it off his forehead, the movement of his arms and back as he leans over the hood of his car. The image is imprinted in your mind’s eye for years to come.

~ ~ ~

1982

Adler has changed, though your memories of him have not. He’s still stubborn as a mule with an envy-inducing sense of style and a love for muscle cars. He’s older now, quieter and less open, scarred both physically and mentally after his time in Vietnam. His most recent escapade involved a former Soviet agent who he refuses to talk about so you don’t push the topic. You’re just happy he’s come back to you.

“You gonna keep staring or help me clean this thing?” Russ says with a slight smile. His shades reflect the sun the same way they did all those years ago and you hurry to his side, upping the radio’s volume on the way.

Russ likes to talk about cars and so you let him, enjoying the sound of his voice as he guides you through the inner workings of the machinery before you. He's gentle and careful with his movements, and you notice the serenity in his features. It was one of the few times he was able to relax, a brief moment where he didn't carry the world on his shoulders. You know he's not perfect, far from it, but he deserves this temporary peace and you're thankful that you're present to enjoy it with him.

“Do you know that I love you?” you ask suddenly. The comment makes Russ pause in his work, gaze lifting to yours as he straightens.

"That so?"

You giggle. "You're supposed to say it back, you know," you tease, fully aware of his tendency to play coy with this sort of thing.

He brushes stray strands of hair from your face, the pads of his fingers delicately tracing your features. He was hesitant to touch you these days, fearing you'd be disgusted by his calloused hands, but you made it a point to remind him that such things were a sign that he had survived and kept his promise to you, even if it had taken longer than either of you had anticipated.

"I love you, too," he murmurs, his voice a low whisper, as if he were afraid to release the phrase into the world where it could be taken from him.

You grin and lean to press a kiss to his scarred cheek, hearing his contented sigh as his arms settle around your waist. You promise to commit this moment to memory, just as you had countless times before, adding it to the complicated collection of images and sensations that made up Russell Adler.

[mellowsadistic]

The Magician's Game - Chapter 3

Katherine ran down the corridor. It was well-furnished with little tables and vases and the occasional gorgeous painting on the wall, nicer even than Katherine’s own family home, but she didn’t have time to admire it. She’d slipped into her room at the same time as the others, pulled on her dress, which had magically appeared on her bed since she’d lost it during the challenge, and left immediately. One woman turned into a thumbsucker, another stripped of her stylish clothes and dressed up like a nursery schooler, and a third, worst of all, rendered permanently incontinent.

Katherine’s relief at not being in Becky’s place had quickly passed. It was pretty clear what sort of thing the Magician had in mind for them, and Katherine had no intention of ending up as some overgrown baby herself. There were still three challenges to go, not to mention whatever extra things the Magician might do to them if they were voted out. She couldn’t stand the thought of ending up like Becky, forced to spend the rest of her life in diapers. Diapers. A fashion statement that told the world you couldn’t even control your bladder and bowels, that you were no better than a two-year-old at keeping yourself clean and dry. The idea that a grown woman could be reduced to that was terrifying. She had to get out of here now.

Katherine ran as quietly as she could. She’d gone deeper into the mansion – there was no way she was going back through the hall when there was a chance Becky and the Magician were still there – but the place was like a labyrinth. Still, there had to be an exit, and sneaking out was clearly her best option. The man was obviously a real magician of some kind, but he surely couldn’t know everything. Katherine was more worried about coming across other people in the house, members of staff perhaps, maids or cooks or housekeepers, anyone who might alert the Magician to what she was doing.

She froze as she head the faint sounds of a soft, female voice coming from up ahead. There was a door on the right of the corridor just a few feet away that was slightly ajar. She’d have to be careful to sneak past without whoever was inside seeing her. She approached cautiously, and as she got closer, the words of the woman inside became clearer.

“There’s a good girl,” she cooed. “Drink it all up for Nanny now, that’s a good baby. Such a hungry girl, aren’t you? Someone’s getting her tum-tum nice and full, isn’t she?”

When she was right outside the door, Katherine peeked inside through the gap. What she saw made her freeze in place. There was a beautiful middle-aged woman sitting on a sofa. Her breasts, larger even than Katherine’s own, were out, and latched onto the nipple of one of them was a girl who seemed to be around Katherine’s age, naked but for the thick white nappy on her bottom. All Katherine could see of her head was her sleek brown hair, but there was no doubt she was nursing eagerly on the older woman’s breast.

“That’s it,” the woman crooned down at the girl laying across her lap. “Drink up all of Nanny’s milk like a good baby.”

Katherine was transfixed. It was like looking at a car crash – a girl her age reduced to the level of a nursing infant.

Quite suddenly, the older woman looked up, straight into Katherine’s eyes. A broad smile appeared on her face, maternal yet slightly sinister as well.

“Does someone else want a suckle?” she asked lightly.

Katherine squealed and fled as fast as she could down the corridor. She ran past other doors, trying not to think about what might be behind them. It was only until she came close to another open one, with a woman’s voice coming from it once again, this time stern and lecturing, that she hesitated.

“You naughty little thing! You do not take your nappy off, missy. I hope that red bottom will teach you a lesson. Come on, legs in, let’s get this over your nappy. You know what a little fountain you can be.”

Katherine couldn’t help herself. She stopped running to glance inside.

There was another Nanny in the room, and another girl. But this time the young lady was standing up, sniffling, her eyes red from crying, while her Nanny tugged a pair of plastic pants over her comically large diaper. She wasn’t wearing anything else. Her bare, womanly breasts, tight tummy, and slender legs clashed ridiculously with the bulky nappy on her bottom.

Just like before, as if she could somehow sense Katherine’s presence, the woman looked around suddenly, smirking. Katherine felt her stomach drop.

“Hang around sweetie, and Nanny will change you into a nappy and plastic pants of your own.”

Katherine fled again, breathing frantically. She had to get out of here! She had to! But as she ran, she began to feel an odd dizziness. She was slowing down, and her strides becoming more and more uncoordinated. Her gait widened, and she found herself lifting her feet too high off the ground, stomping the floor forcefully when they came down and putting her off-balance. She was toddling!

“No, no, no, no, no…” she muttered to herself, tears welling up in her eyes. She kept going. At the end of the corridor was a door. If she could just reach it…

Her knees gave out, and she fell to her hands and knees. She crawled desperately towards the door, tears spilling down her cheeks. She was so close! She didn’t even notice as her knee-length dress shortened, rising up her legs and over her backside, until her bare bum and pussy were on display. She’d been in such a hurry to escape that she hadn’t even bothered putting on underwear.

“Where are you off to, little one?” came the Magician’s deep, amused voice from right behind her. Katherine shrieked in fear and looked around, gazing up at the man standing above her with a wicked smile on his face.

“I… I… I was just…”

“It seems like you’ve been running all over the house, silly girl!” He reached down and patted her bare bottom. “That’s very naughty, sweetie. Daddy told you to get changed and meet back in the dining room. But it looks like a certain little lady was trying to escape! Did you think I wouldn’t know, Katherine? I brought you here with a snap of my fingers, remember? There’s no getting away.”

“I’m sorry!” Katherine sobbed, terror on her face. “Please don’t do anything to me!”

The Magician chuckled and, taking her by her hands, lifted Katherine to her feet. She was relieved that she was able to stand up again, even if her new shorter dress just barely covered her pussy.

“Don’t worry, sweetie. I’m not going to do anything too bad to you. But you do need to be punished.”

“Oh God no!” Katherine wailed. “Please!”

“Hush baby. You were very naughty for trying to run away, and I think I know a very fitting punishment for you.”

Still keeping a hold of her hand, he started leading her back down the corridor. With a horrible plummeting in her stomach, Katherine realised that she was still toddling. Her stance was still wide and awkward, her steps still heavy and uncoordinated.

“There won’t be any more running for you, little miss,” said the Magician, confirming her fears. “And no more elegant struts down the catwalk either.”

Katherine burst into tears as the Magician tugged her along behind him. She was going to be stuck like this! She’d always carried herself with such dignity and grace, and now she was supposed to stomp around everywhere like some stupid three-year-old?!

“I heard you saw a couple of the other girls staying in my house,” the Magician went on conversationally, ignoring Katherine’s sobbing. “Little Lizzy getting her afternoon feeding. She used to be a particularly scathing food critic, responsible for the shutdown of many lovely restaurants. She was quite the snob when it came to food. Now she’s on a diet of nothing but breastmilk.” He looked devilishly happy about it. “Of course, most of the guests I have get to go back to their lives – their new ones anyway – but sometimes there are special cases. Since I made her unable to eat or drink anything except breastmilk, I thought little Lizzy might as well stay here with one of the lovely Nannies I employ to be her wetnurse. Then you saw cute little Jemima too. Believe it or not, she was a hardened criminal once, getting involved in gangs and doing all sorts of nasty things. But now she spends her days toddling around in her nappies, playing with her toys, and getting spanked for the slightest bit of misbehaviour. Her attitude is so much better now!”

Finally, Katherine and the Magician were back in the hall. He led her, waddling absurdly and flashing her pussy with every awkward step, into the dining room where they’d had their baby-food lunch earlier that day. The rest of the girls were standing around nervously. They stared at Katherine with a mixture of curiosity and dread. Abby, Madelyn, and Susie were standing close together, but Becky was a little distance away, still wearing a stinky, heavily soiled nappy between her legs. Madelyn was still nursing her thumb, and Susie had apparently not found any adult clothes to change into in her room, because she was still dressed like a nursery schooler.

“Little Katie here tried to escape,” the Magician explained. “So now she toddles when she walks. Isn’t she just the cutest?”

Katherine blushed bright red and kept her eyes fixed on the floor.

“Now then,” the Magician went on, “it’s almost time to have our first vote.” He waved his hand and a ballot box appeared on the table in front of them. “But first, you can all have a little discussion. Talk to whoever you want, or don’t. It’s up to you. But in a couple of minutes, you’ll all be voting to kick one of your number out of the competition. Good luck!”

He vanished, leaving the five women standing there, unsure of what to do. Becky started to move closer to the other girls, but Abby and Madelyn looked disgusted, and Susie said “Ewww! No! Stay over there Becky!”

Becky didn’t know whether she wanted to burst into tears or start screaming in rage. The nappy sagging from her hips was disgusting, but this wasn’t her fault!

“Look, I’m sorry,” Susie said, turning to the others. “But do we really want to spend the rest of this ordeal with a woman who might poop her pants at any moment? I think we should vote out Becky.”

“No!” Becky squealed, looking around desperately. “Please don’t! I don’t want to go home like this! I don’t wanna be a big baby forever!” She looked utterly pathetic.

Abby almost felt a little sorry for her, but she agreed with Susie that spending however many more challenges around a yucky, smelly, pants-filling baby woman was disgusting. But on the other hand, sobbing and crying in her nappies, the eighteen-year-old Becky didn’t seem like she would be much of a threat…

Susie and Becky continued arguing while the others watched. Abby stared at Susie, thinking hard. If anything, Susie was far more likely to pose a threat to Abby in future rounds. She glanced at Madelyn, and noticed that she was also looking at Susie appraisingly, her brow furrowed. She might almost have looked calculating if it wasn’t for the thumb bobbing stupidly in her mouth. Abby might have considered voting out Madelyn – she’d seemed so confident and powerful at the beginning – but being turned into a thumbsucker seemed to have robbed her of some of her authority. Madelyn looked up, and their eyes met. A flash of understanding passed between them. Katherine was still sniffling, mourning her ability to walk like an adult. She wouldn’t be of any use, but hopefully it wouldn’t matter.

The Magician suddenly reappeared, and Susie and Becky’s argument broke off. “Are we all ready, girls?” he asked with that horrible smile. He passed out a piece of paper and a crayon to each of them. They all hurried away from one another and, covering their work like schoolchildren taking a test, they scribbled down a name. One by one, they walked up to the ballot box and placed their piece of paper into the slot. Then they all stood around fearfully while the Magician opened it up, and took them out to look at.

“Excellent!” he announced. “At three votes, we have a clear loser.” He looked around, his eyes glittering with light. There was tense silence but for the wet smacking sound of Madelyn’s thumbsucking. The magician’s gaze passed over each of them before coming to rest on Susie. “Miss Taylor,” he said. Susie felt her blood run cold. “I’m afraid you’re out of the competition.”

“No!” Susie cried. “It can’t be me! Count the votes again! I couldn’t… I won’t…”

But the Magician was walking up to her slowly, and her voice died. “Awww, don’t be scared, little one,” he cooed, tickling her under the chin. “I’m not going to throw you out to the cold. I know just the person to take care of you.” He gestured to the door. Susie looked over, and saw her mother standing in the doorway. She felt as though a bucket of ice had been poured over her.

“Hi Susie-wusie!” Mrs Taylor cooed, with a very Magician-like smile. “Are you reading to come back home?” Her voice was slow and patronising, like she was talking to a very young child.

Susie could only stare in horror. Then, when she realised what the Magician intended for her, she turned round and ran. She only made it a few steps before her mother’s voice said sternly, “Stay where you are, little girl!” and Susie felt her body freeze. “Now come back here right this instant. Come to Mummy, Susie-poo.”

Susie couldn’t stop herself from turning around and marching back over to her mother to stand submissively before her.

“W-what have you done to me?” she whispered.

“This lovely man’s sorted out everything,” Mrs Taylor said, tilting her head at the Magician. “He’s made it so you won’t be able to disobey me ever again. Anything I tell you to do, you’ll do it. Isn’t that wonderful? Mummy always did know what’s best for you, and now I’ll have full control of your life for good. You’ve been a very naughty girl, Susie. Running away from Mummy, going off to university, thinking you can be ‘mature’ and ‘independent’. You’ve been very, very naughty – and you know what that means, don’t you sweetie?”

Susie whimpered. She knew what her mother was going to say before she said it. Those horrible, terrifying, humiliating words from her childhood.

“It’s smacky bum-bum time, Susie.”

“No….” Susie sobbed, barely audibly. She hated those words more than anything in the world. It was all her mother’s strict discipline wrapped up in the most patronising, insultingly infantile language. It was every humiliating spanking she’d ever received, right up until the day she’d left home.

“Yes, baby,” her mother said, talking in that same slow, sweet, condescending voice. “Naughty girls need red tushies.” She reached under Susie’s skirt and hooked her fingers into the waistband of her cotton underpants. Then, agonizingly slowly, she drew them down to her daughter’s knees. “There we go. Now over my knee, Susie.”

Susie fought as hard she could to resist, but it was impossible. She draped herself over her mother’s lap obediently.

Mrs Taylor flipped up her daughter’s tiny skirt, exposing her pale bare bottom. She patted it gently, as if savouring the sight of her wayward daughter back over her knees once again, and then she started to rain down sharp, painful smacks.

Susie screwed up her face in pain and humiliation as her bottom quickly went from white to red. She wanted to stay in control of herself, to preserve whatever dignity she had left, but it was useless. Tears welled up in her eyes, and she started to cry. Her crying became louder and louder as her mother spanked her like a disobedient child, until she was wailing like a baby at the top of her lungs. “Dobbit Mummy!” she sobbed thickly. “P’ease dobbit! I don’t wanna be a little girl again! Waaaaaaaaah!”

The other girls watched with a combination of horror and morbid fascination, and in Becky’s case a tiny bit of satisfaction, as Susie got her bottom smacked like a little girl.

At last, Mrs Taylor finished. She helped Susie off her lap and got to her feet. Susie just stood there, crying her eyes out with her undies around her ankles and her bottom bright red.

“Thank you for everything,” Mrs Taylor said to the Magician. “I’m so glad to have my little girl back where she belongs. Do you think you could be so kind as to send us home? I think this little one needs to spend a few hours in time-out before bed.”

The Magician inclined his head graciously. “Of course.” He snapped his fingers, and Susie and her mother vanished.

[mins-fins]

don't call me again — [00z — 엔시티. ]

i.e one of isa's random nct wips conceived with no real thought | now playing ꕤ

it's just the slightest bit claustrophobic in here.

well actually it isn't; you're lying to yourself to try to feel better about your circumstances. the air of the room shoves against you, crawling up your chest and seizing your throat in an unyielding grip. you might die from just the squeezing sensation of the room as a whole, even if there isn't even a crowd around you.

"yooooo y/n!" you snap out midway through your daze, the clawing hand formerly clutching your throat now sliding downward, completely disappearing. "dude! i can't believe you made it!"

a strained smile is all you offer, a small squeak leaving your lips as mark pulls you into an abrupt embrace, practically crushing your ribs with his vice grip. "traffic was shitty, but i kept my promise".

mark finally lets go of you, his crushing grip still painting your shoulders even after his hands remove themselves from your shoulders. "good for you, dude! jaem almost thought you wouldn't show".

you pause. jaemin is here. of course jaemin is here. you really are an idiot.

maybe you can make up an excuse. you have a family thing going on! no, too obvious, you can't lie on your mother's behalf without feeling bile crawl up your throat. your cat is sick? you could never lie about something like that. maybe you should just do a fake out and pretend that you're about to vomit—

"yooooo y/n is that you? it's been forever man!"

johnny suh has clearly had one too many drinks, but it's nothing you haven't seen before. the taller is quick to snort at the expression on your face, poking your cheek. you only offer a small wave, not exactly trusting your voice at the current moment. "how's life been treating you?"

you respond with a small shrug as he throws an arm around your shoulder, being nudged forward by the planned movement. you almost want to stop and slip from his grip, but you retain such urges. "semi well".

"semi?"

"i consider me being alive to be an indication of that.." you mutter with pure indignation in your tone, but you assume the alcohol has rendered johnny clueless towards the conveyance you attempt to make clear. his corresponding chuckle makes it clear to you that he thought you were joking, so you refrain from explaining yourself further.

"maybe you should lay low on all that studying! medical school probably hurts someone's brain!"

"it's fine i've learned how to handle it" you place a theatric smile on your lips as you catch a standard look of worry from mark in your peripheral vision.

"hey! tonight you have a break so just.." johnny trails off and you grunt, pushed onto the soft cushions of a couch. "relax".

"y/n has never really been good at doing that".

well speak of the devil, na jaemin nestles himself right beside you, satisfactory smile playing on his lips as he sees your momentary look of irritation. you ruffle your own hair and suck a breath between your teeth, it shouldn't be such a problem to face him now. "hi jaemin".

"it's been almost two years! didn't you miss me?"

in your fucking dreams, would be your usual response if you had no composure and didn't care about causing a scene, but for the sake of your own peace, you let the words die down in your throat. "was too wrapped up in surgery to even really think about it.."

a small scowl is almost let out, but jaemin instead smiles, hand gracing your shoulder in a gentle enough fashion it isn't suspicious. "well you're here now, i heard jeno missed you dearly".

yeah he told me that you idiot.

again, you bite your tongue.

"assuming he didn't tell you.."

jaemin lets out a laugh so performed he may as well open curtains to reveal your on a stage, he pinches the connection between your shoulder and neck, yet another performative smile gracing his features. "you are so funny!"

he might murder you tonight,

assuming you don't get to him first, of course.

the one thing people always forget to mention about reunions is that you cannot have any privacy, no matter how many times you pretend you have to use the bathroom.

you haven't even drank any of the stuff they have lying around, yet you feel as if you're one poke away from puking your guts out on the floor. it would be a funny feat to imagine if it wasn't a result of your very clear anxiety.

"hey how come you haven't had a drink yet?"

the inquiry is posed out of the purity of guanheng's heart. god bless him, even if he is oblivious to most situations. the shake of your head is so erratic your afraid you'll snap your own neck in the process. "i'm driving myself home, can't drink".

the sigh he releases in response is full of disappointment. "that fucking sucks! you bury yourself in all this work and can't even get drunk?"

you decide shrugging is the best course response. "i don't even really want to drink anyway".

you are on a roll with these lies! no you are not sweating! or panicking! or can slowly feel your stomach twisting in very clear anxiety! your lips press into a thin line, a small hum being your next action.

"y/n! y/n!"

now here comes your worst nightmare personified.

that can't even be said with assurance, because liu yangyang's lips stretch up into a euphoric smile. he's happy to see you, and in a sense, you are too, you're also just the slightest bit terrified. "hi yangyang".

he narrows his eyes, as if looking through you, but his smile returns to it's usual manner in a split second. absolutely no animosity behind it at all.

so you're going crazy! alright! that's amazing!

he doesn't say anything more, instead grabs onto you and pulls you into yet another bone crushing hug (that has to be the theme with everyone here), but instead of the usual fear you thought you'd fear when one of them hugged you, you feel warmth, much more than you anticipated.

maybe all isn't that bad, yangyang is still one squeeze away from choking you to death but does that really matter when the hug is like sleeping on the worlds softest pillow?

"i missed you".

you almost miss the hint of irritation that laces his tone, just a small eye twitch being your indication that no, it all is that bad. god maybe you should've said a family thing came up, it'd be easier to deal with a scolding from your mother than this.

"i missed you too" you clear your throat as you mutter the phrase, just barely able to keep your composure as you watch him smile again, eyes closing in a manner that clearly displays his displeasure.

"jaemin told me you were feeling better compared to what happened last year".

you smile so hard you swear you're going to begin bleeding. "i didn't talk to jaemin last year".

yangyang feigns surprise at the revelation. he knows exactly what he's talking about. liar. he then pretends to think it over, snapping his fingers. "oh no! injunie told me!"

your smile quickly fades. renjun. he might be your only saving grace in this mess, considering you don't run into the other two first. you might puke right now. "renjun, right".

"he said he's been dying to see you, maybe you should go find him".

maybe. what a jerk. it's like he can sense your anxiety with the way he squeezes your hand. (though if there's a heat that spreads across your cheeks, you'd rather not admit that).

"well actually—"

"hey! let's go look for him together!" yangyang doesn't allow for you to finish, a small tug of your hand rendering you speechless. you mutter unintelligible curses under your breath as you again feel a squeeze against your hand, his warm fingers clashing against your cold ones.

together. how fun. you manage to keep up smiles as you greet your other friends, friends who had many questions, but didn't exactly ask. maybe you should've declined mark's offer, it would've been better to rot in your apartment compared to facing this.

"do you know where he is?"

"i'm just guessing".

you hate that it does, but the words earn a small smile from you.

sometimes you forget, even after all of this, their still your friends. friends just get weird on occasions, friends just.. have disagreements on occasions, this is on par for frien—

"well what do we have going on here?"

you grit your teeth as soon as you hear the voice, and a small chuckle reverberates from your other.. friend. "y/n! it's been a while!"

you're just barely able to place a smile on your face, glancing at, again.. your worst nightmare in human form. lee donghyuck only stifles a small giggle at the expression which graces your features, his arms crossed above his chest, grin full of teeth. "yeah.. hi hyu— donghyuck".

you catch yourself just in time, and donghyuck bites his tongue, insult heavy on his mind. he again presents a smile, finger beginning to map out the side of your face in a slow motion. "almost two years! it's nice to see you haven't changed".

what a bitch.

you manage to refrain such thoughts from escaping your lips, the last thing you need to do is start a fight with the one person you've already shared fists with. "were looking for renjun".

"oh! a search? can i join you two?" his hands clasp behind his back, smile seemingly permanent.

you almost open your mouth to respond, but you clamp it shut, so yangyang takes the liberty of responding. "sure!"

oh curse you for being so you yangyang.

donghyuck hums happily, seizing your other free hand as he intertwined your fingers. you freeze, shoulders tensing, now stuck between the two people you were not currently feeling fond of at the moment. donghyuck's hands are rough, sometimes you feel as if he forgets about lotion, but yangyang's are soft, uncharacteristically so.

you again feel bile begin crawling up your throat, anxiety practically written in bold letters across your forehead as you again mutter greetings to your friends who haven't seen you in a while, all completely oblivious to the inner turmoil you faced.

you almost feel your eyes begin watering, but donghyuck decides to cut in.

"how's surgery going?"

you have half a mind to punch him in the face, oh fuck him.

"it's fine.. i've gotten used to seeing people's brains".

donghyuck's lips turn up.

"ohhhh, surgery is what you're doing! seems like a very you thing".

"right? even with how queasy he gets".

you manage to hold in your glare, rolling your eyes. donghyuck again squeezes your hand, nudging your shoulder. "it's been a while, should i give you my new number?"

you again feel bile crawling up your throat. "no it's fine i'll just get it from—"

"don't be silly! let me give it to you!"

donghyuck stops, keeping a vice grip on your hand as he puts his number into your phone. you aren't going to text him, even if his glares ask you to.

you wiggle your way away from him, quickly taking your phone with you. "that's nice! you know i just remembered i have a.. thing! a thing going on!"

smooth going, y/n.

"a thing?"

you nod so rapidly it makes yangyang step back. "yeah i have a.. something else to d—"

lord maybe you should watch where you're going, because you bump into someone as you walk backward the other way. just your fucking luck.

"woah, at least don't trip y/n".

and at this point, should you even be surprised by whose standing behind you?

staring your ex kissing buddy face to face would be nice if huang renjun wasn't also behind him, waving gleefully at the sight of you. if this were any other time, almost fainting at the sight of lee jeno would be amusing, but you fear you might genuinely pass out any time now.

"you alright y/n?"

you force another smile. "of course, i'm great!"

you are not great, you might actually die any moment now.

you really shouldn't have accepted mark's stupid invite.